#or surgically removed from the show

[overobsessedfanboy23]

My Biggest Problem With VRAINS

Spoilers: It’s this guy:

And I know that’s not a particularly popular take but I’m sorry, Revolver pisses me off. I don’t know if I’d quite call him the worst character in all of Yugioh (he certainly has his moments) but he is the most frustrating. Because there was a good character buried somewhere in there that just… never came to fruition for me.

(This ended up being very long, as I expected. Honestly steer clear of this one if racism/bigotry/homophobia/transphobia or anything of that vein are triggering topics for you. The Ignis are a race and Revolver hates them all for existing, so I think my use of the word “racist” is justified and necessary for my explanations but I understand it’s a triggering topic.)

At first, Revolver was perfectly fine.

(As a character that is. That first avatar design was ugly as shit.)

He’s an effective first villain of the show, the leader of the Knights of Hanoi who were straight up terrorizing Link VRAINS, which only Playmaker had the strength/courage to fight against. He’s aided by Ai, a rare AI with free will (or an Ignis) that we learn later was created by Douchebag Kogami- oh, I mean Ryoken’s father to be the successor to humanity. Blah blah blah you guys know the history. This is where my problems with Revolver start. His father is clearly clearly in the wrong. He kidnapped and tortured six children for six months to create the six Ignis…

And then he fears that humanity will resent the Ignis and go to war with them. AND THEN GET THIS.

HE RESENTS THE IGNIS AND GOES TO WAR WITH THEM.

He’s evil and bad, no one in the show tries to say otherwise. Except Revolver.

He doesn’t justify torturing the kids thankfully. He was the one who put a stop to that and that landed his father in jail which… admittedly yes that would weigh on an eight year old and possibly screw them up for life. It doesn’t surprise me that Revolver ended up so messed up. It doesn’t excuse it but it does make sense and could’ve been really interesting if they’d bothered to explore that.

No, what pisses me off to no end with this character is that not only does he believe his father’s shitty “all the Ignis should die” rhetoric but how he never bends on that belief throughout the rest of the show, not once. It’s fine in season one, because he’s the villain. His actions against Link VRAINS and humanity are very clearly put in the wrong in that season, and by extension, so is his visceral hatred of the Ignis. It’s in season two when this becomes a problem. Because he didn't come back as a villain, he came back as an anti hero, or morally grey, whichever. So… he’s at least partially in the right now so him retaining this visceral hatred of the Ignis throughout every appearance he has in the show is presented as… a debatable topic. And this is the thing that makes me hate him. Because to put it simply, Revolver is a racist. He hates the entire Ignis race because of what they are and what he thinks they could do. It’s the very definition of bigotry:

Imagine some of Revolver’s quotes about how all Ignis are terrible and will lead to the end of humanity if they aren’t stopped only with the word “Ignis” were replaced by “gays” or something to that extent and you now have the slightest idea of the white hot rage that boils within me when I see this pathetic excuse for a man.

With all that being said, Revolver’s stubborn refusal to change his beliefs on the Ignis would honestly work.

IF HE WERE DEPICTED IN THE WRONG FOR IT.

The other characters (mainly Yusaku and Takeru) argue with him about it but the very narrative of the show itself only ever reinforces Revolver’s horrible backwards racist beliefs. There are plenty of moments throughout season two where his beliefs about the Ignis are proven wrong, moments that I thought were setting up him coming to realise he was wrong to generalise the Ignis as a species.

The moments:

-Ai, Flame, and Aqua vowing to fight for humanity at Revolver’s side despite Revolver saying to their faces that he would kill them all after

-Flame and Aqua straight up dying protecting humanity (which he definitely saw, they all did)

-HIM LEARNING THAT THOSE FUTURES HIS FATHER SAW WHERE THE IGNIS KILLED THEM ALL WERE ONLY CAUSED BY LIGHTNING. SOMETHING HE NOT ONLY FULLY UNDERSTANDS BUT WAS THE ONE TO EXPLAIN.

BUT WE JUST CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS CAN WE?! Because the very next time we see him after he comes back from being fucking dead, (BEFORE AI’S ATTACKS ON HUMANITY NEED I ADD) he says this insulting shit:

(This is right after the Bohman duel by the way. Poor Takeru basically just lost Flame and is having to deal with this shit)

And this is the scene that broke my fucking patience. He’s been given reason after reason to stop believing this crap but instead, he doubles down on it and refuses to change. Ever. And then what is this scene followed by?!

AN IGNIS ATTACKING HUMANITY AND PROVING HIS BELIEFS RIGHT. This show basically made a character racist, gave him plenty of reasons to stop being racist, had him refuse to stop being racist, and then proved that he was right to be racist all along. WHY THE ACTUAL FUCK IS THIS GUY A FAN FAVOURITE?!

Also, he repeatedly refers to the Ignis as “its”:

Even when the other characters start to use he/him pronouns (or she/her for Aqua) and it feels like he’s calling them objects or god forbid doing that thing trasphobes do to transgender people and OH MY GOD I WANT TO PUNCH HIM IN THE FACE.

So… as you can tell, my annoyance of this character is… very personal and emotionally charged. But there’s more. Oh boy there’s more. Because Revolver being a fucking piece of shit doesn’t just fuck with his character, it fucks with the very themes of this show. It doesn't completely ruin them but hear me out: Yusaku, our beloved main character, believes that there can be peace between AI and humans, that they can coexist. This show ends… with every AI with complete free will dead, which was Ryoken’s goal. Ryoken isn’t even punished in the end for all that he did (guarding Link VRAINS isn’t a punishment). He got exactly what he wanted and his bigoted views were never called into question or presented in the wrong after season one which is AWFUL.

I mentioned a while ago that if they permanently killed Ai, this is the message they would be sending:

And… yeah, they still kinda did. Not completely (Blood Shepherd, Queen, and Go Onizuka were never justified, that still stands) and I still absolutely love Ai’s villain arc and Yusaku and Ai’s final duel and all the emotions between them. Ai only ever fell to villainy because he was terrified he would eventually become the monster horrible fucks like Ryoken believed he would. Well, that and wanting to prevent Yusaku’s death. The show doesn’t say that all AI with free will are evil and want to take over humanity but it doesn’t say Ryoken is wrong to believe that either which is where my main problem arises. And this could’ve been fixed. Like I said, Ryoken seemed to be coming around a bit during his death. Why not just cut that scene in the season 3 premiere where he goes back on what little growth he showed? It wouldn’t completely fix everything but it would at least help.

So… Ryoken makes some of the themes of VRAINS a complete mess. Not all of them. For some reason, I really like some of his more… philosophical quotes. I don’t know why, I just think they’re cool:

That’s kind of a VRAINS thing in general but Revolver in particular has quite a few of these quotes. He’s even a character archetype I like. Trust me when I say I wanted to like this character, I was actually excited for his return in season 2 at first and gave him plenty of chances to be a developed character. And… yeah he did develop but… not in a way that mattered if I’m being honest. I have no idea why Yusaku cuts him as much slack as he does. I have never once understood their “bond,” Ryoken will not bend on his hatred of Yusaku’s partner and told Yusaku to his face he regretted saving his life and giving him hope. So by the time season 3 came along I just… fucking snapped.

But Ryoken had potential. I mentioned a while ago that I’m writing a post-VRAINS story and Ryoken’s in it… well… it’s not done yet, so I’ll just say now that hope I’m able to do this character justice.

#tw: racism #tw: transphobia mention #tw: homophobia mention #there ya go there's the essay #I had a burst of inspiration to finally do it #yugioh #ygo #yugioh vrains #ygo vrains #vrains #if revolver were written better #or surgically removed from the show #VRAINS would easily be my favourite YGO #as it stands now... #it's still my favourite #it's just tied with GX #don't make me choose between them #be honest with me guys #do you just like ryoken because he's pretty #are you all spectres :) #long post #essay #rant #analysis #anti revolver #anti ryoken kogami

[ohmyglobwhatthefrickamievendoing]

I will never be over how at its core OFMD is about queer hope and joy in finding the strength to change and grow, specially during a stage in life/age at which the majority will say that you should be settled with who you are and what you're doing

From Stede falling in love with a man and finally realising he's queer, and embracing that with all the overwhelming joy that he can possibly embody, after years stuck in an unhappy marriage trying to force himself into a role that didn't fit him

To Ed finally falling in love with someone and using that as a catalyst for change to find out for himself what he wants to do and who he wants to be, after years of feeling like he was stuck in one place and treading water

To Izzy finally finding a safe community where he can try out new things and find new ways to express himself, after years of being so tightly wound up and repressed

To Anne & Mary stuck in a rut and unhappy but scared they're too old to change, burning down their old life so they can move on forward together and try something new

To Buttons doing the impossible and changing into a fucking bird

Doesn't it give you hope?

Doesn't it make you overwhelmed?

That no matter what age you're at and no matter how scared you are and no matter how impossible it seems, you can still grow, you can still change, you can still find your people and you can still discover new things about yourself.

That you don't need to figure out everything about yourself in your 20s. That you don't need to fall in love and start the perfect life by your 30s. That you don't need to know exactly who you are and how you're expected to spend your life by your 40s.

That you don't need to remain stuck in the box you put yourself into because that's what people dictated or because that's what was safest.

That you can always grow and change and try something new and it's never too late

#specially if you're asian there's so much pressure to get everything settled for the rest of your life before you reach your 30s #and finding queer community early on is /much/ harder #it becomes very easy to feel like you're failing in life if you don't hit every single checkpoint expected of you before you reach your 30s #so seeing a show about older queer people reaching these checkpoints at an older age heals something in me #they fucked up izzy's personal arc tho BUT I also understand this show's about gentlebeard #& for that to happen they needed to surgically remove izzy from ed (or they could have made it into a polycule- WHO SAID THAT!?) #someone's probably already said this in a much more put together way but i'm currently having emotions about it so... #ofmd spoilers #ofmd #our flag means death #our flag means death spoilers #our flag means death season 2 #ofmd season 2 #ofmd s2 #our flag means death s2 #gentlebeard #blackbonnet #ofmd edward teach #ofmd ed teach #edward teach #ofmd stede #stede bonnet #ofmd izzy #izzy hands #ofmd buttons #nathaniel buttons #ofmd mary read #mary read #ofmd anne bonny #anne bonny

[explorerof-theunknown]

#bruce campbell #this is from the time he was in that show as the gay actor i think #awooooooga holy fuck #you would have to surgically remove me is all im saying

[parijpg]

what’s a birthday without you crying your eyes out over everything and nothing

#my art #the other day I was on the phone to my mother showing her a new dress I bought #it had floral print on it #and she was like oh I thought you didn’t like florals #and i realised that it’s what I’d said to her when I was still in high school #when I had a stupid I’m not like other girls I don’t like pink and flowers phase #and why did I cry my eyes out after I hung up #those versions of me still exist somewhere in the timeline I guess #or maybe just within me #anyway how do I surgically remove this chest constricting pain from myself #thanks and bye #pari you know you can write this stuff in your notes app right?

[senileswagger]

something tells me that medic would be like a parent that keeps their child's teeth in a box but like. with shit he surgically removed from the merc's bodies. he has boxes for each merc like scout which has his tonsils, his appendix and the teeth he keeps finding on the ground that he Knows came from that fast fucker, all in a cute handmade box. u will see my vision

#<3 tf2 #team fortress 2 #tf2 #tf2 scout #tf2 medic #he shows them to his birds and talks fondly of the time when he surgically removed lead from demoman's thigh

[lilium--bosniacum]

bijela stijena | remains of a medieval fortification in my mother’s village. my great-grandfather was the imam in this mosque and i was told he’s buried in it’s courtyard. 

#last time i went there i tried to find his grave with no luck bc i couldn't read the inscriptions on the gravestones #that remains a very special day in my memory though #in the morning my dad took me to a clinic to get a wisdom tooth surgically removed #this is in a different town to ours #since we were there we decided to visit my uncle. my mom's brother #it just so happened he was planning to have a lamb roast in the afternoon #my uncle makes his living from agriculture and selling livestock #they told us we have to stay and obviously we couldn't refuse lol #but in the meantime we went to this place #outside of the city walls there's another graveyard and in it are buried three of my siblings who died shortly after birth in 1993 #my dad showed me their grave. it had a little iron fence around it but he told me he wished he'd gotten them a proper gravestone #after my dad died i told this to my family and my grandma wouldn't rest until we fulfilled his wish #we stayed the whole day at my uncle's and went home after dark #my dad played šemsa suljaković zar za mene nema sreće in the car on the way home #and said #ima tih pjesama koje te ugrizu za džigeru #*there are those songs that sink their teeth into your liver* #p #bosnia

[ceilidho]

prompt: reader is hired as a live in house cleaner because ghost is always away and he only comes back on leave and he insists she stay in the guest room. Over time he increasingly acts like she’s his live in girlfriend or something. Very confusing for reader lmao.

-

The job comes at the exact right time. 

The way you stumble onto your new job is a bit dicey, if you’re being honest. You’ve been meaning to get out of the waitressing life for a while—the tips are shit and the number of times that you’ve had your backside pinched has slowly but steadily climbed into the double digits. You just haven’t had direction; somewhere to go. 

Your savior comes in the form of a six foot plus soldier. Oh, he doesn’t tell you that, but his body language speaks for itself. 

At first, even the sight of him makes your belly clench and palms sweat like when you watch rock climbing documentaries or parkour videos online (all moist and clammy and you have to wipe them on your jeans before shaking his hand). He’s a one-time customer at your little roadside diner that gradually becomes a repeat offender. 

He comes at odd times, sometimes disappearing for a month or two before he’s back to sitting in the booth at the back of the diner with his back against the wall. You smile shakily when you pour him coffee after coffee. He never eats. Always sits in the same booth, dressed in the same black hoodie that does nothing to hide the sheer size of him and a black surgical mask that he never removes. He has a sixth sense for when you’re watching him from behind the counter, waiting for him to take a sip.

You never do catch a glimpse of his face. Not completely anyway. You know him only by the faint smell of gunpowder and metal that clings to him like a second skin, and the feeling of his calloused hand against yours. 

Like ice slowly chipping off a glacier that one day cracks, a huge chunk splintering off and crashing into the sea, you know nothing about him until you’re suddenly in his house. Simon, he tells you, and the sound of his name awakens something in you. He needs a housekeeper and you need a reason to leave. 

You quit the diner; barely even put in a week’s notice. 

The day you drive up the long beaten road up to his property, a cabin deep in the English countryside, clear blue skies follow you. Clouds crisp, delicate even. Simon takes you through the house, showing you to the guest room where you’ll be staying while he’s away. He never directly confirms your suspicions, but the faint tightness around his eyes when he mentions his job tells you all you need to know. No wonder he needs someone to keep the house in order. Never around to do it himself.

Then he’s gone, swift as a ghost. You wake up in the guest room to a hastily scrawled note on your bedside table and a faint feeling of loss. 

You scrub tiles and dust the top bit of the fan that everyone always misses; you mow the lawn, clean the gutters, and sit under the shade of a poplar tree with a glass of lemonade in the early evenings. If you look up into the tree, you’ll see spiders and squirrel nests. It’s almost therapeutic. 

Weeks pass at a time. Simon reemerges like clear skies between periods of rain. Sometimes even before you wake up, you can feel the change like lighting sizzling in the air, crackling hot under your fingertips and then stumbling into the kitchen to find him leaning against the counter, coffee already brewing. You blush into an apology that he waves off.

Good soldier. Better boss. 

You fall into a routine, something of a cadence that is only interrupted by Simon’s hands on your hips when he moves you out of the way to grab a mug from the top shelf. His finger brushing over the curve of your cheekbone to wipe away flour smudged on your cheek. Then he’s gone again, passing through like a ghost. 

Perhaps he’s a more tactile man than you originally assumed. Something about the way he held himself in those first few weeks in the diner suggested otherwise, the way he seemed to radiate a latent hostility. Do not get close. You read this in the general slope of his eyebrows and the scars across his muscled forearms up until he reaches out to touch you, growing more and more comfortable with you around.

“You alright, love?” said into your ear on a warm night when Simon materializes onto the couch beside you, practically out of thin air. Your heart almost bursts in your chest. 

When you turn, he’s as beautiful as ever, honey burnt eyes staring out from behind a balaclava this time. Still dresses in his standard issue tactical pants, the faint smear of grime and gore around the ankles. There’s a lump in your throat when you smile. 

He smells richer now. Deeper, like the forest floor. Like crawling through mud and spider webs and a thick, cloying miasma of desperation. 

“Sorry—I didn’t know you’d be back,” you apologize, going to rise up to your feet. It feels wrong to commandeer his house when he’s on leave, even though you live here too.

A heavy hand on your shoulder pulls you down, settling you to his side. “Off your feet now—there you go, atta girl. No sense getting up; show’s not even done.” 

He angles you back to face the TV and tugs you into his lap almost effortlessly. You do not look back, even when you feel him slip the balaclava off, hot breath fanning over your neck. Not even when fingers play over the thin line of skin where your shirt rides up. You blink like your eyes are gummy and try not to shudder when his thumb dips underneath your shirt.

#cod mw2 #ghost cod #cod x reader #cod simon riley #simon ghost riley #simon riley #ghost/reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley x you #ceil writing #house cleaner au

[russellsppttemplates]

Part-time driver, part-time nurse (Charles Leclerc)

Charles spends his off season nursing you back to health

Note: english is not my first language. This is the opportunity to showcase all of my Grey's Anatomy knowledge 😅 jokes aside, this really is knowledge that I have from medical shows and a little research, so the accuracy might not be on point! It was inspired by this blurb!

Thank you so much to everyone who likes and reblogs, your feedback is appreciated 🤍 and I'm taking requests so if you have any ideas or concepts you want to share, feel free to do so as I'll try to get to them the best I can!

my masterlist

Cw: reader has a surgery (cholecystectomy), hospitals, medications, mild mention of sex

Tag list: @myloverjk-blog

"It's really painful, Charles", you groaned, finding a position in bed where you'd be a little bit more comfortable. You had a good pain tolerance and hated hospitals, so when he heard you say those words, he knew well enough that your pain had to be through the roof.

"Let's put this on and then we go to the hospital, okay amour?", he suggested soflty, prepared to gently force you in case you resisted. This was not an okay situation and even though you didn't like the setting, they would be the ones able to help you

"I need your help", you admitted, allowing Charles to lift your torso and dress you with one of his zip up hoodies, "Good, that's good, amour", he cooed, supporting your body on his as you walked out of the flat and into the garage.

"Am I hurting you?", he asked as he lowered your body into the passenger seat, "no, it comes and goes in waves, but it's still at the same place, right here", you winced as you showed him, pointing to your upper abdomen and then your back.

Charles drove to the hospital, his hand holding yours so you could squeeze anytime you needed, "you can park there already, I can walk to the door", you mumbled, "are you sure?", he checked, "yes, handsome", you smiled faintly.

The hospital wasn't too busy since visiting hours had ended a while ago, so Charles parked fairly close to the door, "up, gently, good", he helped you out and locked the car, looking at your face when he heard you laugh.

"We were so busy that I didn't even notice I have my slippers on still", you showed him the fluffy beige footwear, "I think it's trendy, you are going to set a new fashion", he said as you walked to the door of the emergency room.

After being escorted to a bed, a doctor came up to meet you, "Hi, I'm Dr. Richard and I'll be your doctor this evening", he said, greeting you and Charles, "Ms. Y/L/N, it says here you have pain in your abdomen", he stated as waited for your clarification.

"Yes, especially around here", you pointed to the upper right section, "at first it was just here, but then it spread to my back. I wouldn't have come in if it wasn't really impossible to go about my day with it", you sighed as the doctor typed away on his tablet.

"I'm going to do an ultrasound on you", he said as he pulled the kart with the machine closer to the bed, the nurse adjusting the drip he put in your arm with pain medication, "you seem to have cholecystitis, which is when your gallbladder is very inflamed and it causes pain. This ultrasound should let us know quickly if this is the case", he said as you lifted your top, wincing at the cold gel as the doctor moved the wand around.

"See this right here?", Dr. Richard pointed to the screen, "it's your gallbladder, and it is definitely inflamed. The course of treatment is surgically removing it", he explained, grabbing a towell to clean off the excess product from your skin.

"Surgery?", Charles questioned, worry sketched in his eyes, "yes, we do it laparascopically, just a few small incisions on your abdomen. It's very simple, you'll be able to go home tomorrow afternoon if we do the surgery in the morning", he said

"Okay, then. Sounds good", you spoke, "anything to take this pain away", you said, holding Charles' hand in your own.

"This is Dr. Pavard, she's one of my surgical interns", he said as a young woman approached your bed, greeting you, "she'll be the one to take you up to your room, she'll take some samples to make sure everything else is good for surgery and we'll do it tomorrow morning", he smiled, excusing himself as he was being paged to another case.

"Can I go with her?", Charles wondered, as the intern looked a little uneasy on her answer, "I'll have to talk to my superiors about it, but you can go up to the room until I figure it out. How does that sound?", she stated and you both nodded, your boyfriend grabbing your bag and walking behind her as she wheeled you along the corridor into the elevator, not missing the double checks some patients and hospital staff gave him.

After drawing the samples she needed, the intern left you and Charles in the room, "how are you feeling, amour?", he asked, holding your hand between his and kissing your fingertips, "I'm fine, the pain meds are working wonders", you sighed, "not my plans for the next few days to have surgery, but it's for the best", you reasoned.

"Do you think they'll let me stay with you?", Charles wondered, "I'm not sure, Charles. They have very strict rules. Joris said one of his cousins couldn't have anyone with her when she was admitted", you shrugged, "it would be nice having you here, but let's not get our hopes up", you attempted.

After telling you all your labs checked out and you'd be having surgery in the morning, Dr. Richard excused himself and spoke to the nurses outside of the room, "I'm going to the bathroom, and I don't need help", you looked at your boyfriend who looked like a puppy you had kicked out in the street.

When you came out, Charles was closing the door behind him, a smile on his lips as he looked at you, "where did you go? I didn't even take that long in there", you quirked an eyebrow at him, "Oh, they told you you have to leave?".

"I spoke to Dr. Richard", he said with a smirk on his lips, "I'm staying!".

"Charles!", you sterned, "you know you shouldn't pull the card at these things!", you reasoned despite feeling a little bit more at ease that you'd have him with you the whole time.

"I didn't pull any card or any strings!", Charles defended himself, "I went up to him and asked if there was a chance, because I'd be here first thing in the morning anyway, and he said he had already asked one of the nurses to get me a pillow and a blanket for that sofa, that apparently turns into a bed if I want it to", he shrugged his shoulders, "I wasn't going to say no".

Despite shaking your head at him, you were grateful that he also wanted to stay with you, "sometimes I forget that I'm dating the principality's pride child", you teased him, making room for him in your bed so he could envelop you in your arms, "thank you, though", you kissed his jaw.

"They also assured me that everyone that saw us wouldn't mention this to anyone, so you're safe", he mumbled, kissing your forehead, "now rest, amour, you'll need it before your surgery".

Early in the morning, the surgical team came to the room to take you, not before Charles kissed your lips, "I love you so much, Charles, I'll see you in a bit", you smiled, nodding to the interns who would be wheeling you to the operating room.

About halfway through the procedure, one of the interns came into the room to assure Charles everything was going as it was supposed to, "thank you for letting me know", he said, watching him leave before his phone rang, Pierre's contact name showing on the screen.

"Hey, man! How are you? Me and Francisca are in Monaco for a few days, do you and Y/N want to plan something?", the French man asked over the phone.

"Hey! Y/N's is actually having surgery right now - her gallbladder was giving her trouble so they're taking it out", Charles explained, "we should be going home this afternoon, hopefully, so if you guys don't mind hanging out at our place, it's fine".

"Oh, I hope everything goes well", Pierre said, saying something to who Charles assumed was his girlfriend, "let us know how it goes and we'll go from there, okay? We don't want to bother you even more".

After wishing everything would go well and requesting that Charles let's him know when you were awake, Pierre ended the call and your boyfriend took the opportunity to update your families.

"She's out of the operating room and she's starting to wake up, they will bring her up soon", one of the nurses smiled as Charles nodded, taking a sip from his coffee as he waited for you.

When they wheeled you back into the room, your eyes looked tired but you smiled when you saw him, "everything went as planned, there were no complications, so it should be a smooth recovery. They'll bring your breakfast in a bit and if you can tolerate that and walk just fine, we'll be able to discharge you when your labs come back good!", your surgeon said before excusing himself.

"Hey, bébé", he smiled, kissing your forehead, "how are you feeling?", he asked.

"I'm good, loopy from the meds, but I'm also quite hungry", you giggled, "I'm sorry I caused you to worry", you began.

"It's part of it", he shrugged his shoulders, kissing your hands, "all that matters is that it went well and you're feeling good. My mother says she dropped by our flat and arranged the place a little bit - it wasn't too messy, don't worry - and she also left a pasta bake; your parents are very happy and relieved it went well. Pierre and Kika are in town as well and I told them that if you weren't too tired, they could spend tomorrow with us, but only of you feel up to it!", he was quick to mention.

"That sounds nice!", you nodded, "I haven't seen them in a while", you recalled.

After eating breakfast and walking along the corridor a few times during the day, the doctors discharged you, prescribing the medications you would need and listing the signs you should look out for.

"Here, amour, careful", Charles said as he helped you up the small step to get into your flat, guiding you to the living room where the sofa was packed with blankets and pillows, "Careful, you don't want to hurt your tummy", he ushered as you sat down, kissing the top of your head.

"Charles, love, the incisions are very small, I have to be careful, yes, but if they said that I could come home, it's because I can move still", you giggled, appreciating his attention even though he was being a little over the top, not letting you get up to grab snacks from the kitchen.

"I have grapes for you", he smiled, coming back with a plate for you, "they're full of the good things you have to eat, so your body heals nicely and you feel better", he said, sitting next to you carefully as you took some to eat.

Later, when you wanted to get up, his hand carefully stopped you, "my love, I need to pee, and I'm not even going to let you think of a way to help. I'm just going to the bathroom and I'll be right back", you added.

"I carry you to the bathroom sometimes after we have sex and you can't do it on your own, I can do it now!", he suggested, almost getting up when you threateningly pointed your finger at him, "I'll be quick, Charles!", you smiled.

When you opened the door to get out, Charles was there, "did you wait outside for me?", you quirked your eyebrow, "I did! I didn't want something to happen to you!", he reasoned, "now you have to drink some water to make sure everything is functioning well, and your meds, too!".

Shaking your head at his worry and dedication, you couldn't help but smile, "I love you, Charles, and as much as I'm a little annoyed at the fact that you're my shadow, I must admit I love having you here with me everyday", you smiled, kissing his cheek and then his lips, "I love you, amour, I just want you to be well".

When the next morning came around, Charles guided you to the living room again, making breakfast for you as you sent a few work e-mails explaining what was happening and why you had to take a few days off when a text from Francisca popped up in your phone, saying they were at the door.

Texting her the code to enter the building, you got up to open the door, figuring you would take the same amount of time until they knocked.

"Hi! Quick, quick, quick, before Charles sees I'm up from the sofa", you ushered them to the living room right as Charles was coming out of the kitchen with your breakfast.

"I saw you, Y/N", he sterned as he shook his head, "you cannot stay still, can you, woman?", he teased, setting the tray on the coffee table and chasing you as you hid beside Pierre, "we've been friends for nearly as long a time as I've been Charles' friend, Gasly, don't gang up on me now!", you attempted as Charles picked you up gently, "hey!".

"You had surgery, Y/N", Pierre began, "if he didn't do it, I would do it myself", he snickered as you showed him the middle finger.

"How are you feeling, though?", Francisca asked once you were all sat on the big sofa, "comparing to the pain I had, I'm great, I swear I never felt pain like it", you answered, taking a sip from your tea and cutting the toast Charles made for you.

"You have a full on breakfast here", Pierre pointed out, "of course we have! Y/N needs to replenish and eat so she can heal", Charles stated.

"Anyone who hears him thinks I've had a whole things done to me and what I had it's pretty common", you giggled, "still, I don't mind the attention", you said as you kissed his cheek while Pierre pretend to barf on the side of your sofa.

#charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc fanfic #f1 imagine #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 fluff

[greenglowinspooks]

(DCxDP) Drowning in formaldehyde (Pt. 1)

—

Tw: one instance of canon-typical violence (DC), vivisection mention

Will be crossposted to AO3 eventually

(Prologue) - (Pt. 2)

(Subscription post/masterlist)

—

Danny has been working for Mr. Cobblepot for over a month now.

The first few weeks he was in the Penguin’s company, he couldn’t do much of anything. Instead, Mr. Cobblepot made sure that he was well-rested and beginning to recover.

Danny cried a lot in the first week that he was there.

He cried when he ate for the first time in years; the GiW had kept him on IVs and a feeding tube, so they wouldn’t have to move him from his surgical table.

He cried when he was given his own room to stay in, when he was brought clothes to wear, when he was given a bodyguard to protect him.

He cried when Mr. Cobblepot’s doctors told him that the damage to his vocal chords was likely permanent, and that he would never sound the same again. That he would find it hard to speak at any volume above a whisper.

Apparently, he had a lot more damage to him than he had thought.

The doctors said that the scarring in his brain stem suggested his entire brain had been removed and had regrown. Danny couldn’t really disprove that, and it did line up with a pretty substantial gap in his memory, but if that was the case then why couldn’t his voice recover too?

The scarring and incredibly new tissue that showed up in scans of several other parts of his body suggested that the GiW had done the same thing with most of his organs, as well as a few limbs, and all of the fingers on his right hand.

Danny could remember that. He just didn’t want to.

Perhaps it was the feeling of pity that kept Mr. Cobblepot so understanding of Danny’s slow recovery. That didn’t really matter much, though; Danny’s energy was focused on keeping his place here, ensuring that Mr. Cobblepot didn’t decide he was no longer worth the effort.

As it turned out, there was an easy enough solution to that.

Danny was the only one who knew how to properly operate and modify the weapons and inventions stolen from the GiW.

And so, Danny had a niche he could occupy. He could be useful, useful enough that Mr. Cobblepot couldn’t get rid of him, even if he wanted to.

And, as it turns out, Danny remembered quite a lot of the theories he heard while he was on the cutting board.

As soon as he had enough muscle control of his arms to do so, he was working away at the machinery created by the GiW and his parents.

No, not his parents.

Doctors Madeleine and Jack Fenton.

Regardless of their creators, he was able to understand them quite intimately.

Maybe it was because the ectoplasm flowing through the weaponry was his own, maybe it was because he had nothing to listen to for three years other than the excited chatter of his vivisectionists as they cut him open. Maybe it was because they were both simple weaponry without a purpose.

Danny found working on the machines soothing in a way that nothing else was.

The smell of oil and grease, the sounds of mechanical clanking and metal joints squealing, the feeling of cold steel beneath his fingertips.

The first thing he did to the machines was replacing the paint, from shiny white to a matte black. That way, they were recognizable as his own modified creations.

It was only a bonus that he didn’t catch his reflection in the metal surfaces this way.

Still, his reflection was starting to become more familiar to him. It was still strangely off-putting to see, but his face was beginning to plump out from consistent eating, and his skin was beginning to lose its unhealthy pale tone, going back to a more natural pinkish color.

His eyes still looked devoid of life, but that could be ignored as long as he didn’t look at himself for too long.

Danny sighed, leaning back in his chair as he wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. He was working on modifying the ectoblasters so that they could properly hit humans, as per Mr. Cobblepot’s orders.

He probably should feel some sort of moral conflict over it, but really, Danny couldn’t find it in him to care. Maybe it was some sort of deep internal flaw, or maybe it was because he knew that they wouldn’t be shot at anyone without blood on their hands. Either way, he didn’t have any qualms with what he was doing.

As Danny reconnected the circuitry within the gun, the indicator lights on the side of the muzzle blinked to life, a familiar neon green.

Danny would have to change that color too, he thought. Maybe red would be nice instead, or an icy blue?

He was pulled from his thoughts by the door to his temporary workshop opening. Danny looked up, and smiled when he saw that his bodyguard was the one standing in the doorway.

The man, known only as Derringer, was 6’2”, built like a tank, and known for his love of unusual firearms. He was also a big fan of card games, and had been teaching Danny how to play Blackjack during their meals.

He gently closed the door behind him, strolling into the workshop.

Danny hopped out of his seat, hugging the man tightly. Derringer laughed, patting Danny on the back as he clung to him like a koala.

“Good to see you too, kid,��� the man said, his deep voice rumbling in his chest, “you just about done in here?”

Danny nodded, letting go of the bodyguard. He picked up the gun on the desk, handing it to Derringer, and pointed to the target resting in the far corner of the room.

Derringer glanced down at Danny, shrugging before aiming the gun.

He pulled the trigger, and a large scorch mark appeared in the center of the target.

Derringer whistled appreciatively, walking over to inspect the damage.

There was a deep dent in the center of the metal target, around an inch in diameter, and a large scorch mark surrounding it. The metal of the dent was white-hot, and the area around it was somewhat warped.

“That’s real nice, kid,” Derringer said, “don’t know how you do it.”

Danny grinned, baring his teeth at the man. He smiled back, ruffling his hair.

“The boss is gonna go forward with the Arkham raid soon, so long as your guns are ready,” he said, “he’s eager to try them out for real. You think you’re up to talking to him?”

“Yes,” Danny signed, nodding to the man.

“Good,” Derringer signed back.

Mr. Cobblepot, not wanting Danny to be limited in his speech by the damage to his vocal chords, had ensured that all of the people who interacted with him knew at least the basics of ASL.

When he wasn’t working on the ectoblasters, Danny was practicing his ASL with a dedicated tutor, or with Derringer, who learned the language when his mother had gone deaf.

“Can I eat first?” Danny signed, “I forgot to.”

“You forgot, or you didn’t want to leave your work?” Derringer asked, signing as he spoke, the corners of his eyes crinkled with amusement, “and yeah, the boss wants to talk to you in thirty minutes. You’ve got plenty of time before then.”

“Thank you,” Danny signed, “let’s go.”

“Hey, just a sec,” Derringer said. His face had dropped into something unusually serious.

Danny nodded, tilting his head as he signed a quick “what’s wrong?”

“You’re a good kid. Even after what you’ve been through, you’re…you’re a really sweet kid,” Derringer said, looking away. “But you…you can’t keep being sweet to everyone. You gotta act tough, alright?”

“Why?”

“You just…” Derringer sighed, combing a hand through his thick, curly hair, “a lot of the guys think that you’re too weak to be here. They’re calling you the Penguin’s pet project, and the problem is that they’re not really wrong. You gotta be scarier to survive, alright? Gotham’ll eat you alive if you don’t. Just make up a persona and roll with it.”

Danny nodded slowly, processing his words for a moment.

“Like a mask?”

Derringer laughed, a bittersweet smile on his face.

“Yeah, like a mask. Just don’t start fighting crime while you’re at it.”

“Okay,” Danny signed, his movements slow. “I can do that.”

“Good on you, kid,” Derringer said, ruffling his hair once more, “now let’s go get lunch.”

The two of them ate quickly, Danny’s mind on Derringer’s advice the entire time.

He was right, and Danny knew it. He’d seen the way that some of Mr. Cobblepot’s men had looked at him.

He wasn’t anywhere near big enough to pull off the looming intimidating look that Derringer did; his doctors back in Amity had told him that he would grow to be over six foot, but his time in the GiW seemed to have stunted his growth significantly. He was only around 5’6”, and it seemed that he was going to stay that way.

In the same way, he wasn’t nearly frightening looking enough to pull off the terrifying stares of the smaller individuals working under Mr. Cobblepot. He just couldn’t get the glare right; his face would always fall back to a blank, dead stare.

Though, maybe if he played into that…

A few minutes before they had to leave, Danny excused himself to go to the restroom. He stared into the mirror, looking into his cold, dead eyes, and let his face drop.

When he adjusted his stance, and kept his eyes a bit wider than usual, he looked downright unnerving.

Danny had already noticed that most of his mannerisms were…unusual, after his stay at the GiW base. Put simply, he had forgotten what it was like to be a human.

He had noticed that most of the people around him would avoid being in his presence, and had begun mirroring their body language as much as he could to seem more normal.

Maybe, though, it would be better for him not to.

He could lean into the whole thing. An unstable young adult, experimented on by the government for years.

Danny looked into the mirror, and wide, icy eyes stared back at him.

Danny left the restroom. Derringer turned to greet him, jolting when he did. After a moment, he nodded.

“That your new look?”

“Yes. Is it good?”

“Yeah. Freaky. Gonna take some getting used to, but yeah. Now,” he said, getting up from his spot at the break room table, “let’s go see the boss.”

Danny felt anxiety bubbling up in his chest, his entire body beginning to twitch. If Mr. Cobblepot didn’t approve of the weaponry, or if he thought they were underwhelming, would he be thrown out? Would he be tortured again, or killed?

Danny shivered when they came to a stop in front of the door to Mr. Cobblepot’s office. Failure wasn’t an option. He had to make sure this went well.

“You’ll do great, kid,” Derringer whispered, pushing the door open.

Mr. Cobblepot had been talking with a few other people, but their conversation died out when Danny and Derringer entered the room. Danny’s skin crawled.

“Ah, Danny! Just the person I wanted to see,” Mr. Cobblepot said, a large smile on his face, “Do you have one of your guns with you?”

“Yes,” Danny signed, nodding.

“Wonderful. I was just telling my associates here about your work. Do you mind giving a demonstration?”

“Where should I shoot? Do you have a target?”

Derringer was quick to translate. Mr. Cobblepot nodded, gesturing for a hired hand in the corner of the room to pull out a small wooden board, holding it up in the air.

Danny paled. He would definitely burn the man’s hands if he hit the target, even if he aimed for the furthest corner of the board.

Still, he was more terrified of disappointing Mr. Cobblepot than he was empathetic towards the man, so he drew a blaster from the holster on his leg and aimed carefully.

The blast hit the center of the board. The man holding it howled in pain, dropping the target and drawing his hand close to his chest. The nauseating smell of burning flesh filled the room.

Danny breathed shakily, in and out.

Mr. Cobblepot, for what it was worth, looked like he couldn’t possibly be happier. He and the others inspected the board on the ground closely, ignoring the hired hand as he ran out of the room, still cradling his damaged hand.

A large hole had been blown into the board, and a good portion of it had been incinerated.

“Look at that, ladies and gentlemen! I told you that Danny would deliver, and deliver he did! Imagine if that had been a person instead! Danny, what would you say would happen?”

Danny paused, trying to wince when he realized that the question wasn’t hypothetical, and Mr. Cobblepot actually wanted an answer.

“It would give them S-E-V-E-R-E burns,” Danny finger spelled the word that he didn’t know the proper sign for, “mostly S-U-R-F-A-C-E. It can’t P-E-I-R-C-E, because there is no bullet, just energy.”

Derringer translated for him.

Mr. Cobblepot frowned, and Danny frantically continued, “but it can be L-E-T-H-A-L! Burns on the head kill fast. Burns on the body make S-H-O-C-K, and kill. Strong I-M-P-A-C-T, too.”

“So they do still kill, just not instantly?”

“Yes,” Danny signed, “they’re fast. They hurt bad. Bad way to die, hurts a lot.”

“Well,” one of the other men in the room piped up, “I guess he’s not completely hopeless.”

“Of course he isn’t,” Mr. Cobblepot replied, fixing a terrifying glare onto the man, “it was my idea to bring him in, after all.”

“Danny,” Mr. Cobblepot said, turning his attention back to him, “we’re going to be collaborating with these fine individuals in the future. I’m going to need twenty guns ready for use in a week. You can handle that, can’t you?”

Danny nodded frantically.

“What kind?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mr. Cobblepot said, waving his hand dismissively, “semi-automatic is preferable, but handguns and shotguns also work. Just make sure they work perfectly.”

The room was silent for a moment.

“Well, that’s all. You can leave now, and I’ll finish discussing the details with my associates.”

Danny nodded, signing him a quick “thank you, goodbye,” and slipped out of the room alongside Derringer.

They made their way back to Danny’s workshop in silence. Once they were inside, Derringer heaved a heavy sigh, running his fingers through his hair.

“You really think you can make that many guns that quickly, kid?”

“Yes,” Danny replied, “but I need your help.”

Derringer groaned, a smile on his face.

“Of course you’re putting me to work. I should’ve expected it. Now, what do you need me to do?”

“Well, first, hold this…”

—

#dcxdp #dc x dp #dp x dc #dpxdc #dp x dc crossover #dc x dp fic #vengeful danny #villain danny #btw Derringer is named after a type of gun #dw he isn’t the focus forever #I just felt like Danny could use like. a single person who isn’t trying to manipulate him #also I think he would get along very well with the goons :) #aside from. yknow. the whole target thing HDJDNDND #also there IS a lore related reason that his vocal chords can’t recover but the rest of his body can #you just gotta wait to see what it is >:3 #anyways. Arkham time next chapter #Awwawaw

[bangtanflirt]

(Un)natural Instincts (Part 3)

angst, fluff, smut

Pairings: OT7 x Fem Reader, Human CEO Reader, Human Assistant Yoongi, Wolf Hybrids Joon, Jin, Hobi, Jimin, Tae, and Kook.

Basic premise: You and your assistant end up rescuing six wolf hybrids. No part of the process is easy.

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4

General Warnings: Hybrid abuse and lab experimentation, hybrids as second-class citizens/owned property, future smut (Minors DNI, 18+ content)

Specific Warnings: torture collars, needles, surgical collar removal (implied not shown), drugs, one mention of euthanasia, misogyny in the workplace

____

Jungkook tries to hide behind you the second he walks into Dr. Gong’s office. The doctor greets both of you in a friendly manner, guiding Jungkook to the patient bed while you stand close by.

You can tell she wants to ask about the collar, but refrains. Even if she did, you’d have to make up some lie, as the product isn’t officially released yet. But you’re thankful she doesn’t. Dr. Gong is one of the top hybrid doctors in the country, and you’re sure her usual clientele expect her not to ask questions when it comes to their hybrids.

She wastes no time checking the wolf’s vitals and getting the needle ready.

Jungkook turns his head away when the blood is being drawn, choosing to look at your face instead. You make sure to tell him how good he’s doing every three seconds.

The receptionist comes in with an assortment of drinks and snacks as you wait for the results to come through. The second you give permission, Jungkook is diving his hands straight to the banana milk, making both you and the doctor chuckle.

“How did you do it Ms. Shin?”

“Do what?”

“Domesticate a 40% wolf hybrid? I mean, it’s remarkable. You two must have a really great bond.”

Yeah…a great bond.

You chuckle nervously, “We do.”

You and the doctor make more small-talk as Jungkook eats and drinks his way through every snack in front of him. When the results finally come in, the smile from Dr. Gong’s face drops immediately.

“What’s the matter? Is it severe? What’s the allergy?”

“It’s not severe, very mild actually…but the substance…”

“What is it Doctor?”

“Y/N, I need you to be completely honest with me, have you been giving Jungkook any substances lately?”

Substances? The hormones are in his bloodstream, but there couldn’t be anything sketchy in there when it’s been patented…could there?

“What substance did you find?”

“Fevocaine. To be specific, when I did an allergy test, fevocaine showed up. However, when I ran a secondary drug test specifically for fevocaine detection, the report was all clear. This is an advanced version of the drug that somehow goes undetected when tested for, I would have had no idea if not for the allergy test. You know how serious this is, don’t you? I’m going to need to get the police involved.”

Fevocaine? One of the most high-alert drugs on the government’s system? Oh…Kang was done for.

___

It’s not long after you, Dr. Gong, and Jungkook sit with the authorities that the Pet Paradise research facility gets raided. You guide the police there yourself, watching researchers scramble as their hormone development lab is found stashing copious amounts of the banned drug.

A special type of joy overtakes you when you see Kang Byung-hun grace the TV the next day, handcuffed and yelling over and over again about how he did nothing wrong. You know better than to think it’s over, as Kang’s lawyers are sure to put up a fight, but right now you just want to celebrate this moment. Jungkook watches alongside you, letting the question on the tip of his tongue drop at last.

“Does this mean I can see my pack again?”

“I don’t see why not. I’ll talk to the feds and figure it out.”

That’s the first time Jungkook hugs you, sobbing happy tears into your shoulder.

You have your schedule cleared for the next day, taking an emergency leave for the first time in your career.

“We really have to thank you once again for your cooperation, Ms. Shin. I know you’re a very busy woman.”

The head of the investigation, Special Agent Kwon, ushers you into a seat in his office.

“I’m just glad this is all sorted out. Fevocaine is no light matter.”

“It definitely is not. May I ask what brings you here today? If I remember correctly, we got all the statements we needed from you already.”

“I’m here to follow-up on what will happen to the hybrids. Jungkook is still under my care, and as you can imagine, he’s dying to be reunited with his pack.”

“Ah yes, I’m sure. Well, we’d love to reunite them. Thankfully, the fevocaine was given in doses too low to leave long-term impact, so the plan is to de-collar and give all the hybrids to the state.”

“To the state? Like an adoption center.”

“Precisely.”

“But they’re 40% wolf…they won’t ever be adopted once the collar wears off. Will they be released into the wild?”

Agent Kwon shifts uncomfortably in his seat.

“We can’t release lab-hybrids into the wild.”

“So then what?”

More uncomfortable shifting.

“If they can’t be adopted, the shelter will have to consider euthanasia.”

No. Absolutely the fuck not.

“Let me take them.”

“What?”

“You heard me. I’ll adopt all six right now.”

“Ms. Shin, I don’t think that’s—”

“Rational? Probably not. But it’s better than the alternative. You and I both know no state-funded rehab is going to make a difference. I can give them what the government can’t. I can give them an actual fair shot at life.”

There’s a pause as the agent mulls it over.

“If you’re that adamant about it, I’ll see if I can figure something out.”

You get a call later that day, telling you that you have clearance to go ahead with the adoption procedures. It’s the first time you initiate a hug with Jungkook, telling him the good news.

“Thank you Y/N. Thank you so much. I don’t know how we’ll ever repay the kindness you’ve shown us.”

He’s sobbing again, and you hold him steady in your arms.

___

It’s the next day and you can’t help but feel antsy about your driver taking Jungkook to Dr. Gong without you. You know he doesn’t like doctors, but he needs his collar off as soon as possible.

You’re in the office kitchen when you get a call to begin the adoption process. All the worrying over the hybrids has you completely forgetting where you are and how you’re seen here—because the next thing you know, gossip is running wild.

And now you’re seen as everything you didn’t want to be.

The men aren’t exactly subtle, making jabs about how you’ve been an emotional push-over this entire time and how the mask is finally slipping off. You try to ignore it, but you can’t escape.

“Maybe she’ll invest in the HoloPad if we give her a sob story for it. She’ll buy six versions herself, I bet.”

“You think she has some supercharged maternal instincts from bottling it down all these years? She sees the six as her little babies?”

“This is going to be really good for the company. Six hybrids mean six ways to get dicked down. Maybe she’ll finally stop being a frigid bitch!”

“This was supposed to be the investment that give us our bonuses, and she snitched to the police because she couldn’t handle seeing hybrids cry…not even people…but hybrids! How can anyone take her seriously?!”

You told yourself you’d never cry at work, no matter the countless times you’ve wanted to, but you can’t help the tears from falling today. You’re in your office with the blinds closed, but it still feels like you’ve broken the promise to yourself: the promise to not let the people here break you.

There’s a gentle knock at the door.

“One moment” you say, frantically reaching for the powder foundation to hide your crying face.

“It’s just me.”

You stop, breathing a sigh of relief.

“Come in.”

Yoongi enters tactfully, making sure the door isn’t open enough for anyone to see you.

He sets a mint tea on the table, as well as a packet of ginseng which he mixes into it in front of you.

“Try this, it’ll calm you down.”

You don’t question it. He pats your back as you down the drink, watching over with worry etched into his features. It takes a while for the tears to stop falling and your breathing to steady, but he patiently stays by your side.

“Is it true that you’re adopting all six?”

You nod, putting the now empty cup down.

“The collar effects are going to go down Y/N…it’s way too dangerous.”

“If they do end up clawing my face off, I really think I deserve it at this point.”

It’s your poor attempt at a joke, but Yoongi isn’t laughing.

“Let me move in.”

“Excuse me?”

“Let me move in for a while. I can’t let you live there alone with six wolf hybrids. I won’t.”

“Yoongi, I appreciate you looking out for me, but the last thing I need are additional rumors. The people here are going to have a field day with the sugar-mommy jabs if you move in.”

“Y/N, they’ve been calling me your sugar baby since the second week I’ve been here. They’ve never cared for the truth when it comes to you. We’ll keep it low-key, but if they find out then they find out. Your safety is the priority here.”

He’s got a point. How much could anyone say that hasn’t been said already? And, as much as you’re trying to keep it from showing, you are scared of what could happen once their natural instincts kick in.

“Fine. I’m picking them all up after work tomorrow. I’ll text you when we’re all back home and you can come.”

___

The second you open the door to the doctor’s office, you’re ambushed by a mop of brown hair in a hospital gown.

You peel him off to take in his new appearance, with white, blood-stained bandages replacing where the collar once was.

“He was asking for you every five minutes.” Dr. Gong comments from her desk.

“Thank you so much for letting him stay here while I was working.”

“It actually turned out for the good, gave me some time to monitor his vitals and behavior. This isn’t exactly a case I’m used to seeing. I should probably monitor the ones tomorrow too.”

You give Jungkook a sympathetic look as he tugs tightly onto the sleeve of your blouse.

“And I bet you were so good for Dr. Gong, weren’t you Jungkook?”

He looks over in the doctor’s direction, only feeling confident enough to respond once she gives a reassuring nod.

“I w-was. She told me I was really brave.”

“He was scared, but he followed directions really well.”

“I even got a reward! Apparently, these taste really good” He holds up an orange lollipop, only to realize that he’s half-crushed it in his fist. He looks so devastated that you feel bad for wanting to laugh.

“Doc, you don’t happen to have any more of those, do you? I think Jungkook forgot his strength for a second.”

Dr. Gong smiles before tossing another one in his direction.

Jungkook entertains himself on the sofa in the waiting room, watching “Extraordinary Attorney Woo”—aka his first assignment from you. You fondly watch through the window of the office as he pulls out a little notepad and pen, eager to jot down the key points.

You turn your attention back on the doctor, ready to be briefed on next steps.

“As far as I can tell, the collar removal process went as smoothly as possible. I’ll give you a wound care kit and instructions before you leave today, but the wounds should heal in the next twelve days. For the changes inside his body, the synthetic hormones will take around twenty days to fully leave his system. I have to advise you to be careful of your safety as this process occurs, because his high level of wolf can make him dangerous in as little as ten days.”

You let the weight of her words sink in, the whole situation becoming more and more tangible now.

“I’ll be careful.”

She gives a nod before continuing, “I understand the other five are coming for collar removal tomorrow as well. It will be the same for all of them. Oh and one more thing,”

She shuffles through a file before placing a piece of paper in front of you,

“This is a record of his last heat suppressant. He’s due for a shot next week. My guess is that the other five are too, so you can schedule that with the receptionist accordingly.”

You’d been meaning to ask Jungkook when his next heat would be and how to prepare, but you’d completely forgotten heat suppressant shots were a thing; most owners would rather not deal with the “inconvenience” of their hybrids in heat.

“Is it necessary to keep them on it? Their hormones have already been messed with enough.”

“I wouldn’t advise them to be taken off of it for at least the next month. Give some time until after removal of the collar since it’s best to keep everything else in their bodies as stable as we can right now. If you still feel this way after then, you can stop scheduling the shots.”

 You nod, “Thank you doctor. You’ve been such a great help throughout all of this.”

___

You wince as you undo the bandages and gauze, seeing the exposed wounds. He jumps the second you touch his skin with a cotton pad, applying the saline solution as gently as you know how, with the antibiotic cream right after.

“Here you go” you say, handing him his prescribed pain meds. “You have to take one every eight hours. It’s really important you don’t forget, or it will hurt really bad. Understand?”

He nods, making a face as he swallows the bitter pill. It’s not even one second after he swallows it that you’re holding the allergy one up in front of his face.

“Are you excited to see your pack tomorrow?”

His face goes from contorting in disgust to the biggest grin imaginable.

“I’m so excited! I missed them so much!”

“I can’t wait to get to know them. They’ll be getting their collars off in the morning, observed for a few hours like you were today, and I’ll pick them up right after work. My assistant will come a bit after, he’s staying over too. You were sleeping last time he was here, so I didn’t get a chance to introduce you.”

“Someone else will be staying too? For the night?”

“For a while actually. He’ll be helping me take care of all of you.”

You don’t dare say the real reason to the boy’s face.

“We won’t cause trouble, I promise! We’ll be really really well-behaved.”

“I bet you will be,” you chuckle, fluffing his hair, “but wound care for all of you is not easy for me to do alone. You’ll all love Yoongi, I promise.”

You aren’t completely lying; having Yoongi here is going to be a huge help in that regard, but the main reason is still because of how wrong all of this can go…because you can’t trust any of them yet…not even your sweet Jungkook.

____

Work is the last place you want to be right now, especially with the snickering and gossiping at an all-time high. It doesn’t help that you’re handing over your duties to the COO today, taking three weeks off to properly help all six of the hybrids. It’s the first time you’ve ever taken time off, and you’re paranoid about handing things over to someone else. It’s not like your COO, Hwang Minhyun, isn’t reliable or competent—quite the opposite, actually—but you’re just not used to giving someone control like this. Yoongi assures you he’ll stick by Minhyun’s side for the whole three weeks, reporting everything you need him to, and that makes you breathe a little lighter.

It feels like you’re taking a walk of shame when you leave work.

You know the latest whispers, people saying you’re taking time off because you got your feelings hurt…because you’re too sensitive…

It stings.

But you can’t let it show, and you certainly can’t break down when you have five hybrids waiting for you at Dr. Gong’s.

You drive with infinite worries in your head, almost running a red light on the way.

This time when you enter through the door, there is no hybrid running into your arms. It’s the exact opposite, with five bodies flinching and huddling together in fear—neck bandages matching Jungkook’s. They no doubt remember you as one of the many people ogling them at the facility.

There’s a social worker right by them, but he doesn’t look all too pleased to be there. Hybrid social work is considered the lowest position, and most don’t do it with much diligence.

Dr. Gong brushes past the group to welcome you, “Welcome back Ms. Shin. Happy to say all of the removal procedures went well.”

The social worker steps up,

“Hello Ms. Shin. I’m Jo, the social worker in charge of this case. I’m here to collect a few signatures and hand the hybrids off. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you as well” you say, meeting his handshake.

The hybrids’ ears stand straight on their heads at the mention of being handed off, you see their eyes widen in alarm, one of them—Jimin, you remember—squeaks.

“We-we’re going home with her?”

Jo shushes the wolf, glaring sternly before turning his attention back to you.

“Sorry about that.”

You raise a brow, “Why is he asking that? Surely, they know what’s happening right now?”

He gives a nonchalant shrug, “I don’t think anyone’s told them yet.”

“What do you mean? Why haven’t you told them?”

“With all due respect Ms. Shin, keeping them in the loop isn’t part of my job description. I just need to make sure they follow orders.”

The annoyance on his features makes your right hand itch to slap it off of him, but you take a deep breath, not wanting to make a scene in front of the terrified wolves. You need to be tactical and get them adopted as soon as possible.

“Of course, my apologies.” You deliver your signature tight-lipped smile.

Dr. Gong takes charge of the conversation, speed-running the post-surgery instructions as they are identical to yesterday’s. She tries to give them lollipops, but they start shaking harder and she quickly tucks them back into a drawer.

It’s not long before you’re signing the adoption papers, double checking to make sure Jungkook is included in the agreement as well. It baffles you that he doesn’t even need to be present for his adoption—a clear indicator of how much care the government gives towards hybrid autonomy.

“They’re all yours. I’ll schedule a house-visit in two weeks, to make sure they aren’t a danger to you. If we find anything alarming, the state will take them, as stated in the papers.”

It doesn’t go unnoticed that there’s no mention of whether or not the hybrids are safe. It breaks your heart knowing not even their own social worker cares about that.

“Thank you. I’ll take them off your hands now.”

___

The car ride gives you déjà vu, with four of the hybrids in the back, eyes trained on the floor. Namjoon takes the seat beside you, putting on his guard hybrid senses on display as he sits with his chin protruding in deep concentration. He’s the only one not looking down, but instead on the road.

“Sorry for springing all of this on you guys,” No one looks up, but you continue, “Jungkook is so excited to see everyone again.”

Suddenly, ten pairs of eyes are trained on you.

Namjoon speaks in an instant, forgetting to ask for permission in the haze of hearing his youngest packmate’s name “Jungkook? Our Koo?! He’s with you…he’s alive?!”

They really didn’t know a thing.

You can’t imagine how hard it must’ve been for them, seeing him get taken away and having no idea if he was even alive. You hope Kang Byung-hun and his researchers are having a great time rotting in their prison cells right now.

“He’s alive and well, got his collar taken off yesterday.” You give the warmest smile you know how.

You hear various sighs of relief, paired with low whispers that you can’t quite make out in the back.

____

A/N: I cannot believe how much positivity and love this series is receiving so far. THANK YOU GUYS SO MUCH! I love reading your thoughts and seeing you as invested in these characters as I am, and it gets me so excited to write future parts!

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#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hurt/comfort #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #unnatural instincts

[vintagexherry]

5 ways to say "I love you" without words.

Serial Killer!Miguel O'Hara x Reader

//Multiple Scenarios, Both reader and Miguel are unhinged, heavy Gore, blood, murder, torture, expirements, possessive themes, graphic depictions of wounds, Fluff, Suggestive themes

A/N: This is a collection of scenarios of you and Miguel's married life, heed the warnings

----

[Way #1: Gift Giving]

You exhaled a breath of relief once you enter your house, removing your shoes and replacing it with house slippers.

You sigh as you set down your bag and groceries on top of the kitchen counter.

Today's work wasn't that busy but the amount of meetings made you tired. Atleast that pesky co worker wasn't there to harass you to date him.

You look up to the clock seeing it's perfectly time for dinner and a few minutes till your husband comes back from his work. You can't wait to eat and sleep at the arms of your husband.

Gabriella was still at her friend's house, having a sleepover. You chuckled at the memory of her painting his dad's nails. You wonder if she's doing that with her other friends right now.

"Y/N? Are you home?" Miguel called from upstairs.

"You're home early today?" You watch as Miguel comes downstairs to greet you with a kiss while you hung up your coat.

"Yeah, leaked gas occured, and all of us got dismissed early today. How's yours?" Miguel asks as he unloads the ingredients of today's dinner to the counter.

"Well, wasn't that busy aside from meetings." You kissed his cheek as a thank you while you put on your apron.

Miguel smiled as he went back to the living room, wanting to check the news while he waits for dinner.

You nodded and headed to the fridge, but as you opened the fridge, you froze.

There sat a decapitated head of that one pesky co-worker you always told Miguel about, his head was inside a jar full of unknown liquid, his eyes wide open, almost making his eyeballs pop out and his jaw slacked open wide as if he was killed before he could even screamed.

"Miguel!" You called from the kitchen and Miguel arrives a second later.

"Si, Mi amor?"

"You shouldn't have~" You cooed

Miguel smirked at your reaction.

"Surprise" He went closer to you, kissing you on the forehead.

"No wonder my day at work is brighter than usual." You kissed him back on the lips.

"Cualquier cosa por ti mi amor" (Anything for you my love) Miguel smiled.

He's glad that you enjoyed the gift he got for you.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

[Way #2: Acts of Service]

Miguel was at work today while it's your day off today.

Not wanting to feel bored, you decided to clean the house since dust started to gather.

You changed the bedsheets in yours and Miguel's room, dusted the bookshelves, arranged the items of Miguel's home office table, and finally sanitized the kitchen counter.

All of these chores don't compare on what you're about to clean next. All of these chores didn't even made you drop a sweat.

But you know what will.

You prepared your mop, your cleaning chemicals, your mask, and elbow length gloves so you don't inhale or touch unnecessary bacteria.

You bring all these items downstairs until you reach your basement.

You hummed a tune while you opened the basement lights.

On the bed, you saw was a naked woman near your age. Her ankles and wrist were strapped by leather belts into a metallic bed table. Her body is covered in cuts, some dried and caked with blood, while others look like it's been stitched.

The basement got renovated to look like a hospital room, complete with a medical bed, cabinets of surgical equipment, a table by the side, and a bookshelf full of thick medical related books.

An IV was plugged into her arm, keeping her alive, while a monitor next to her shows her heartbeats.

She seemed to be awakened by the harsh bright light and her panicked wide eyes landed to your form.

"Pl-please, I do-I don't know... Who you are but please, help!" Her voice wheezed out, and you could just hear the dryness of her throat.

You ignored her pleas as you headed straight to the table next to the bed, arranged with medical tools like scapels, a kidney tray, and some forceps, but what caught your attention was a cup of empty Starbucks coffee.

You sigh. How many times have you told your husband that there's a trash can for a reason? For a medical type of expirements he's running he doesn't seem to know how to keep a station clean.

You grabbed the coffee cup and swayed it to the face of the lady.

"I swear! He never listened to me when I told him to throw his trashes properly. Husbands amiright?"

You chuckled at the end while you threw the cup away.

The woman seemed to be taken aback by your carefree attitude to the whole situation, talking as if it's just another Friday afternoon.

"Ple-please!" She tried begging again.

"You gott-a to he-help me!"

"'fraid can't do that hun, that's what you get for not teaching your child any manners."

You held yourself back from slapping her.

Miguel took the opportunity to kidnap her at the dead of night, when both of you found out during yesterday afternoon that Gabriella got reportedly bullied by some kid during soccer practice.

He left the kid sleeping on his bed, unaware that his mother was here bleeding out. He also tried to find the father, but found out they were divorced and the dad is living in another state and could only take his child during holidays due to custody reasons.

You and Miguel only met the dad a few times, but he seemed to be a better role model than the mom, so maybe taking her out of the picture will be better for the child.

You turn your back from the woman and decide to clean the floor, which you could see a few dried droppings of blood.

You started to hum again while you pour chemical solutions on the bucket and dipped your mop into it.

"Ple-please I-Im sorry!"

You still ignored her, continuing your moping duty.

Your thoughts start to drift off to what lunch you could make before Gabriella returns from school.

While you drag your mop on the floor, your eyes land on the wall of the basement where you can see framed pictures of your family, and so is a few drawings of Gabi.

Your heart always melts at the sight. How could you get so lucky with a man like that?

"I beg you ple-"

You groaned, getting tired of her incessant whining.

"Look, sweetie, my husband always tells me not to touch with his work, but you're making me break that rule." You said as you turned to face her.

She whimpered, You wonder if she could feel the pain of her wounds, but knowing Miguel, he probably didn't give her anesthetics.

Her hands started wiggling around the straps around her wrists.

"I suggest you stop doing that, Im not a doctor, but you might reopen some of those wounds." You suggested as you put back the mop on the bucket and turned to the wall so you could wipe the framed pictures.

While you back is turned, you didn't notice the straps on her wrist loosened. You didn't notice her sudden silence. You didn't notice her taking the scapel from the table. And you didn't notice her quiet steps towards you.

"You bitch!-" She shouted, and that gave you enough to turn around in surprise and move out of the way, but the scapel still grazed your cheek, leaving a bleeding cut on its way.

You wince from the sudden sharp pain on your face, but there's more important things to worry about, like a naked bleeding wounded lady coming at you with wobbly yet swift steps with a scapel.

You immediately stepped back and grabbed the forceps off the table.

"Fuck you! and your daugh-"

She didn't get to finish that sentence since you drove the sharp end of the forceps to her left eye.

Blood sprayed on you while she screamed loudly from her throat while stumbling back, holding her eye that's still has the forceps dangling from.

You quickly gathered your bearings and ran up to the lady, pulling out the forceps out of her, making more blood spray onto the floor and onto you.

"Don't you dare talk about my daughter!" You angrily spat. The nerve of this woman.

Both you and that woman started to go at each other's throat.

Literally.

You dodge the upcoming scapel that was aimed at your neck and she dodged the forceps too.

You gotta admit, for a heavily wounded woman this bitch got spirit.

"Fuck you!" the woman swung the scapel, cutting a tear from your dress. Dammit Miguel just brought this one for you.

While she moved desperately to kill you, her stitched wounds reopened one by one. Her movements started to become wobbly due to blood loss, but that didn't deter her from leaving another cut to your exposed forearm.

You swinged your forceps to her other neck.

This time you were successful.

You seemed to hit a vein since blood sprayed everywhere, some to your face up to your body.

Her screams sounded bloody while she started to choke on her blood, and her legs started to move backwards, making her trip on her own foot.

She fell backwards, and that seemed to deal with her enough. Her body started swimming with her own blood, and her one eye showed no light.

You started to breathe heavily, the smell of blood with chemicals made your head foggy, so as the event that transpired.

The straps on her wrists seemed to be loosened, and you hated yourself for not noticing it sooner, but right now, anger is still coursing through you. The fact that she tried to talk bad about Gabriella seemed to make you move automatically to her dead body.

dropping the forceps, you kneeled and took the scapel next to her and started stabbing her chest even more. Anger did nothing but blind you that you didn't notice Miguel coming down.

"....amor! I heard screaming what happe-"

You froze.

Shit.

You turned around and immediately stood up, dropping the scapel. You somehow forgot the words of Miguel about touching the expirements.

You looked at Miguel, who froze at the sight of the bloody scene, the while porcelein walls were covered with speckles of blood and the floor wasn't any better.

But his attention was mostly on you, covered with blood all around, especially the new dress he got for you. Your arm and cheek seemed to have cuts but weren't that deep.

Miguel's gaze made you nervous. This is the first time you have broken a rule. You felt nervous about what's to come. It grew more as he started approaching you.

"Mi-Mi-Miguel, Im-im so sorry, I know what you told m-me but-"

Your words were cut off when a pair of strong lips covered yours in a passionate deep kiss.

Your eyes widened at the action, taken a back, but his lips continued to lick and bite yours, the taste blood seemed to spur him on, and you felt something twitch between his legs.

He finally let go of your lips, his eyes looked at you with nothing but admiration, your name fell from hips in whispers, as if calling you like a mantra.

"Oh mi amor, mi amor....You...I...I love you." He breathed out while he smiled down upon you, his hands caressed your face lovingly, and you melt from his touch, relieved that he isn't mad.

Miguel froze at the sight of you since this was the first time he ever saw you covered in blood, he usually does the dirty work but seeing you all bloodied up with a corpse behind you just seems to do something to him.

"How... Did I ever get so lucky to marry you, huh?" His eyes seemed to be still in daze.

You were about to say something but was cut off when you yelp, seeing that he carried you over his shoulder, heading straight back up the stairs and to your bedroom.

Safe to say, that you had to clean both basement and bedroom all over again.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

[Way #3: Quality time]

You and Miguel have been busy with work and "other things" (depends on you how you interpret that.)

So when the weekend came, it was finally time to enjoy each other, especially with Gabriella.

Miguel couldn't wait to pick her up from school to finally bond more without distractions from work.

During the drive, Gabriella excitedly talked about her biology class.

"Oh?, and what did you learn?"

"The anatomy of human beings! Our teacher said we have this upcoming contest, and the best project gets to have their work displayed."

"Project? I can help with that."

"Thanks, Papa! And after that you and Mama have to come with me to see the winner."

Few hours has passed and Miguel and Gabriella were doing the project.

What he didn't expect was it's supposed to be clay.

After buying supplies and planning the entire thing out, Miguel didn't expect to work with clay to be harder than disecting a full-grown adult.

So he did the best thing he could think of.

Call for your help.

Now, all of you three are on the floor, moulding and sculpting organs of the human body. You mould the kidneys, Miguel moulds the heart and Gabi the lungs.

Having a husband that specializes in the human body, he made sure each organ looks the best they can be.

And both you and Gabi think it's too much. The way Miguel stares down at the model of the heart his creating, the way he moulds each aorta, and the way he mixes clay to get the right tone of red. Whatever he's making, it could pass enough to be the real thing, and you know for sure Miguel has experience with the real thing.

Time passes by, and after moulding the kidney, heart, lungs, and other organs you all need a human cutout to place and glue the clay models on.

And what better model for the cutout other than Miguel O' Hara himself.

You and Gabi giggle as Miguel spreads his body out on a flat piece of cardboard, and both of you start tracing an outline of body. After tracing and giggling in the process, Miguel took the responsibility to cut out the cardboard.

After molding more organs, tracing the model and cutting the cardboard. The three of you arranged it accordingly.

Once done, Miguel placed it upon the wall for all of you to see the final result.

"Woah...It looks real," Gabi admired the project.

"Maybe not real. We could put blood on it."

You chuckled at his words, you admired the finished product and the organs done by Miguel looked too real, making it stand out like a sore thumb.

"I'm sure it looks real enough." You mused.

But Gabi seemed to like the idea of blood on her project, you laughed.

Like father like daughter.

So with that, you took the food colouring off the kitchen shelf and gave it to Miguel, who coated the organs with as much red he could put, Gabi cheering him on the process.

The next day came by, and everyone was on school showing off their projects. Once you and Miguel arrived, Miguel puffed his chest in pride when he saw other projects don't compare to the ones you three made.

You were glad Miguel made (threatened) his job to give him a free day so he could attend. While the school staff displayed each work and judges picked the best, Gabi went off to find her friends while Miguel entertained you on criticising the other work done by others, and you can't help but be amused

"Psh, That liver isn't even big enough"

"Tsk, that one didn't even try on the brain."

"Someone get this person a proper reference. That kidney looks like it got murdered. And that's saying something from me." He whispered the last part to you, and you had to cover your mouth to hide your laugh.

Time passed by, and while Gabi sits with her friends, the parents sit at their designated chairs.

The announcer applauded everyone of their hard work (Miguel rolls his eyes) and proceeded to announce the winner.

Everyone applauded as Gabriella's name was announced first place, and you and Miguel excitedly stood up to give her the medal.

Miguel could admit he enjoyed the time he got to spend with both of his loved one.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

[Way #4: Physical Touch]

Miguel is fully aware that he isn't a people person.

Miguel is fully aware his mouth spits nothing but fire to his co workers.

Miguel is fully aware his eyes aren't meant for looking for affection, always set in a permanent glare to whoever looks his way.

Miguel is fully aware that his hands aren't meant for soft caressing and touches.

Yet here he is.

His mouth sings a soft lullaby for the newborn in his arms. Something that he once heard from his mother.

His eyes looked at admiration for your hard work to bring a new life to your and Miguel's already perfect life.

His hands cradled you and his daughter in his arms, his world in just the palm of his being.

He never thought how he would get to this, never thought he could be a better man. Never thought redemption was a thing until you came.

His calloused hand, rough from his work, rough from the murders he committed. As of right now, he used to feed the baby that babbles incoherently at him.

"Si, si mija. Here you go"

In one swoop of his hands, the spoon arrives at the destination of Gabi's mouth, and she babbled happily.

He finds himself smiling, something he thought he stopped doing since forever.

That night, Miguel and you put the baby to sleep, admiring her peacful face, her nose just like his father.

You two prepare for bed, but Miguel wants more time with you. The day has been hectic with work and duty to care for the baby.

During the bath, his hands scrubbed your body gently, contrasting the way he scrubs himself off the blood of his victims.

Miguel dries the both of you off, and after some persuassion, you let him choose your clothes for the night.

That should have been it.

But Miguel is a selfish man, always wanting to get what he wants whenever he wants to.

His hands looked for his phone and automatically played a soft and sensual music.

His hands lead you to dance with him while you chuckle at his invitation. The song progresses, and Miguel leads you to spin, to dip and to sway.

The song progresses even more to a romantic tone, but both of you didn't notice when the two of you were busy touching and caressing each other's naked body.

His hands roamed around yours, his lips kissing each scar and beauty mark he could find. He found all of them,for his eyes memorise the dips and curve and every inch of skin he could caress.

He thought he would never be close to a person this much, sure there were women who warmed his bed. But that's only temporary, temporary feelings and temporary touches that would soon be replaced by another.

This felt different, intimate even. The way you held his both in both your hands after an energy draining night felt different. And his glad its permanent this time.

He has someone to wake up to, look for, touch with and to talk to.

And with Gabi in the image?

He couldn't ask for more.

□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■□■

[Way #5: Words of Affirmation][this has inspiration from Corpse Bride]

Large church bells, a grand cathedral, bountiful amount of guests, a three layered cake.

And don't forget the Bride and Groom.

This day was the day you felt true happiness. You felt as if the world did revolve around you, at least just for this day.

People watch in awe as you walk down the aisle, a flower girl leading you in, leaving pink colored petals on the floor.

Your dress flows behind you eloquently. Your veil hides your face, but everyone knows you're the happiest you could be.

You look forward, and you see your soon-to-be husband, standing by the altar, watching you with awe more than the guest, and his eyes speak of emotions no great poetry could describe.

Everything that transpired that day felt like a blur.

You said your vows, and he said his

The priest declared both of you husband and wife, and Miguel didn't waste time holding your veil and gently yet swiftly put it behind you and kissing your lips.

Reception came in, and it was time for you and Miguel to have you a moment by dancing together and cutting the cake.

Miguel would sometimes mingle with other guests but would mostly stay by your side and you did the same.

You both had fun dancing, eating, talking, and throwing the bouquet as you and Miguel drove off to your honeymoon place.

That was a year ago, and now both you and Miguel are placing boxes on top of boxes in your new home. Where memories could grow.

After your honeymoon phase, Miguel surprised you with his own wedding gift, a house both of you could live in, three rooms, an island type kitchen, a backyard and a basement, You couldn't ask for more.

More years passed by, and you felt yourself living the dream.

But something feels off.

You would sometimes blame it on the passing of the honeymoon phase, but it feels bigger than that.

He would come home normal.

Tired but normal.

But instead of going to the bathroom to freshen up, he would head to the basement.

At first, you brush it off, thinking he was redecorating the basement to his liking of some sort. You asked him about it, but all he said was for you not to go down due to dangerous equipment.

But now you feel like as if you're missing something. Something that tells you that your husband isn't saying something to you.

You first feared that maybe he was cheating, but after making sure, he doesn't go home late, and if he does, he would tell you, second, there's no foreign smell of perfume or a stray lipstick mark. Third, you trust him, perhaps as deep as the pacific ocean and he trusts you too.

You decided maybe he's still renovating the basement and doesn't want you to see and wanting it to be a surprise.

Headaches start to form when you think about it deeply so once again you brushed it off.

Until one night.

You and Miguel were sleeping in your bedroom.

Until you thought Miguel was sleeping.

Your body jerked away when you heard a distant scream of a woman downstairs.

It was loud and sounded desperate.

You felt scared and it increased more when you didn't see your husband next to you.

The screams would continue, and you got concerned. You put on a robe to cover yourself and head downstairs cautiously. You quickly head to the kitchen to grab a knife in case something bad happened.

You start to notice the screaming would continue down to the basement and you hesitated.

Your husband isn't with you, there's a woman screaming and he told you not to go down.

But more pressing matters made you ignore that rule and went downstairs, clutching the knife tightly.

You winced at the volume of the screams, and the more you descend, the more the screams sounded choked.

But all that attention to the sound was immediately thrown out the window when the sight in front of made you freeze.

There stood Miguel slicing and cutting a woman alive, her torso covered in so much bloof you don't know which cut it orignated from. Her eyes are bloodshot and wide, and her throat sounds choked from the screaming.

The basement seemed messy with empty boxes scattered and the walls covered in dirt, grime, and dried blood. The odour didn't help much since all you could smell was iron and rotting bodies.

He seemed to be focused on what he's doing, and you didn't realize that the woman was an ex of Miguel who started bad mouthing you when she found out you two got married.

"te mereces esto perra" (you deserve this you bitch) you hear him murmur himself over the choking woman.

Yet your focus was still straight to your husband, who seemed to not notice your presence. His face held anger you had never seen, his eyebrows turned down, and his mouth formed a deep frown.

The woman seemed to die when her screams suddenly went to a full volume to wet chokes, and then finally nothing. Yet you felt no remorse for some reason, no guilt when you realized your husband killed a person.

"Mi-Miguel?" You stammered, testing the waters.

Miguel's body jerked up as if he got electrocuted. His body turned immediately to face you, and he froze.

"Mi-mi-Vida...." He stammered, his body shaking in horror as if he was the one who found you killing someone instead of him.

"Miguel...I-"

"Kill me."

"Wha-what?"

You paused, taking in his words. You realized his eyes were set on the knife you were grasping.

"No I-"

"I... You...Mi Vida, you weren't supposed to see this, I..."

"Mi amor if it makes you feel better, please." He shouted, and you froze, confusion set in on you when he demands for you to kill him.

You waited for him to finish.

"Listen, I-I know you're confused, but por favor...." He seemed to be holding back tears

"Don't leave me, please... You can kill me, report me to the police but please don't leave me mi amor.."

You didn't say anything, but your feet find themselves walking straight to Miguel.

Miguel's eyes seemed to beg you. He never wanted you to find this side of him, and if you did, he swore to never forgive himself. You were the best thing to ever happen to him. You accepted his perfection so as his flaws, but he fears you will never accept this. He can handle being killed by hands, thrown behind bars by your order, but you leaving him? He couldn't bring himself to accept that.

"I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, mi vida, just please kil-"

His words were interrupted when he felt a pair of lips pressing onto him, your hands on each side of his face. Feelings and promises seemed to fill out from that kiss, and he couldn't help but melt.

After a while, you paced back a bit letting go his lips, and he held himself back from grabbing you again.

"Do you... Do you remember our vows?" You asked as you grasp both of his large hands on your palm and carresed the wedding ring. The knife long forgotten on the floor.

He seemed to pause for a while. You don't seem to be scared nor hesitant to talk to him. Which is good.(?)

"Y-yea..."

You chuckled.

"Well...Do you remember when I said."

"I, Y/N L/N will promise to take all weaknesess and make them your strengths, I promise to take your soul either be it perfect...."

"....or flawed." Miguel finished the sentence for you. His eyes seemed to glisten with tears. And you smiled. it seems like he remembered

Everything felt as if it's your wedding all over again. This time, it was in a basement with a dead body. But just like your wedding, both of you only focused on each other and nothing else. His eyes find yours, although a bit blurry from the tears his holding back he still looks at you, and you look at him.

"Y/N...." His eyes bore into you with a longing gaze, His hand took your hand with the ring.

He paused for a while, seeming to take in everything, and you watched him with tears already flowing down.

"With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup shall never empty for I will be your wine...." He paused for a moment. He felt a tear coming down while yours started streaming slowly but surely.

".....With this candle, I will light your way to darkness...."

"With this ring... I ask you to be mine."

His hand lifted yours to kiss your ring, after, he lifted his head,awaiting your answer.

Your words are choked due to the tears flowing down, and Miguel smiled widely at you.

"I-I do.." You continue to cry happily.

Miguel didn't waste time lifting you up to his height and kissed your lips as deeply as he can, both of you closed your eyes, and tears were streaming down. Everything felt like your wedding day, except this one felt lighter, even better. A weight on his shoulder has been lifted with you.

The two of you always find different ways to say "I love you" without words.

The End

#atsv miguel #miguel o'hara #miguel spiderverse #miguel x reader #miguel spiderman #miguel x you #spiderman 2099 #yandere miguel o'hara #tw blo0d #tw bl0od #tw murder #cw: gore #wedding #miguel fluff #spiderman fluff #across the spiderverse #possessive #tw possessive behavior #tw possessiveness #suggestive #cw torture

[farfromsugafanfic]

Stray kids reaction to seeing surgery scars on their s/o

Anon 🐻‍❄️

SKZ Reaction To Seeing Surgery Scars On Their S/O

Genre: fluff, suggestions of smut

Warnings: mentions of surgery, body insecurity, cancer, mention of disease and injuries

A/N: My first anon 🥹 thank you so much and I hope you enjoy it. Also, thank you for 1,000 followers 🥺

Chan:

Chan knew about your appendectomy scar and how it was one of your complexes, but you'd always managed to keep it hidden from him. He tried to express that it was perfectly normal to have surgical scars and that it wouldn't change how he felt about you, but it still took you time to show it to him.

Pulling up your shirt, you winced as the keloid scar became visible. Chan stayed quiet before gently running the softest part of his fingertips over the rough scar.

"Does it hurt?" he asked.

"Sometimes," you said. "But not too much anymore."

He nodded in understanding and reached down to intertwine your fingers.

Minho:

Minho understood why you were scared for him to see your scoliosis surgery scar because he too had a surgery scar that he felt self-conscious of. While he'd sometimes caught a small glimpse of it, you always tried to keep it hidden. Eventually, though, it became impossible to deny the intimacy growing between the two of you.

"I'll show you mine if you show me yours," he said, trying to lighten the mood with some light sarcasm. It seemed to work since you laughed and some of the tension in your body. When you finally threw your shirt aside, his breath hitched at the long vertical scar down your spine. It lined up with the curves of your body linearly, making your body look like two butterfly wings sprouting from the scar.

"Fuck, you're so gorgeous."

Changbin:

Changbin knew you had a tumor removed from your kidney as a kid, but it never crossed his mind that you might have a scar. While you sometimes even forget about it, there are times you get reminded. Someone looks a little too hard at your abdomen when wearing a crop top, or someone was bold enough to ask what happened.

You'd long put your childhood brush with cancer behind you, but when Changbin first noticed your scar, your body filled with dread. Would it be the last straw and he would finally find you completely unattractive and dump you?

However, Changbin didn't say a word and just placed his palm over it. He'd continue to do this, sometimes without even thinking about it, just reminding you that he loved every part of you, even the parts you sometimes wanted to hide.

Hyunjin:

Hyunjin noticed that you always wore long sleeves. At first, he didn't think much about it, until there was an especially hot day when you refused to take off your long-sleeved shirt. When he questioned it, he saw the panicked look in your eyes and knew something was wrong.

After a bit of soft prodding, you eventually explained that you'd broken your arm as a kid and had had surgery, leaving you with a scar. Hyunjin was silent for a few moments.

"Is that all? You thought I would mind that?"

"Well, I mean, you're so gorgeous."

"I still have scars, babe." He chuckled and reached for your sleeve, gently pulling it up and rubbing the pad of his thumb over the scar. He didn't say anything else, but gently leaned down and kissed the scar.

Jisung:

When Jisung first met you, it was at a large event where you'd had your makeup professionally done. But, the next time he saw you, it was a late night at the convenience store where the scar from a skin graft surgery you'd had after getting a burn on one side of your face. Compared to what it could look like, it was relatively minor, but the scar was visible and you'd only just got used to doing small errands like this without covering it up.

Jisung can't lie and say it didn't catch him off guard, but it only made him more interested in you. He bought you a pudding and chatted with you, deciding not to mention anything unless you did. This surprised you because most people couldn't help but ask for the sob story of the car accident that resulted in major burns to your face.

Eventually, you did tell Jisung what happened though it took time and getting over some insecurities. But, Jisung's openness about his insecurities and your insistence that they didn't matter to him helped you come to realize how enamored he actually was with you.

Felix:

You and Felix were both very open about your insecurities and who you are. However, you could never get yourself to show your biopsy scar. The scar was small, but noticeable. So, you kept it covered. As you and Felix became more intimate, you knew he would eventually see your scar.

Felix was a sweetheart. You knew he wouldn’t care and that such a small flaw would not affect how he felt about you. Yet, still, there was a nagging worry. When Felix does see the scar and notice the way your body tenses when his eyes graze over it, he takes your hand and kisses the back of it gently.

“It looks beautiful on you,” he said, as if he were looking at you trying on a dress and not gazing at your scar. His hand brought yours to his cheek.

Seungmin:

On the outside, it wasn't obvious that you had lupus, but Seungmin had begun to notice that you never drank—not even beer or wine. He didn't mind but found it a bit curious since it was not something he was used to with people around his age. Still, he didn't ask questions. That was until he was staying the night at your apartment and caught a glimpse of the hockey stick shaped scar on the right side of your abdomen from having a kidney transplant.

His eyes widened as he began to put it all together. He didn't flip out but did ask if you were okay. After you explained, he felt better but also felt bad that you felt like you needed to hide such a major part of yourself from him. From then on, he would sometimes find himself absentmindedly running his fingers over the scar when you lie together.

Jeongin:

Jeongin knew you'd had knee surgery a few years ago after tearing your meniscus. But, he'd never seen the scar. Of course, he was never actively looking for it but realized that you never showed your knees at all. When asked about it, he could tell it was a touchy subject, but a few sweet words and reassuring touches calmed you.

Rolling up your pant leg, you showed him the scar. It was larger than most other similar scars because your injury had been extensive. The scar—at least in Jeongin's eyes—wasn't too visible, but he made sure to give you a cute peck on the nose and encourage you to wear what you wanted since surgery scars were nothing to be ashamed of.

#stray kids #skz #skz reactions #stray kids fanfic #stray kids reactions #skz fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #farfromsuga #skz fluff #stray kids fluff #skz scenarios #skz preferences #stray kids scenarios #stray kids preferences #stray kids x reader #stray kids imagine #skz imagine #skz imagines #stray kids imagines #kpop imagines #kpop fanfic #kpop fluff #kpop fanfiction #kpop fic #skz fic #stray kids fic #stray kids requests #stray kids fanfiction

[queers-gambit]

Tears in the Rain

prompt: feelings are confessed and a decision is made; the only thing left to do is heal and be okay.

pairing: Eddie Munson x female!reader

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 8.4k

note: Eddie's 19, reader's 18+, and Chrissy's 17-18 years old. and yes - The Book of Unholy Mischief was published in 2008, but i still use a quote from it, oh well - roll with it!

warnings: Hanahaki Disease AU, cursing, unrequited love, y'all know the drill - angst! hospitals, and minor description of surgical procedure. again - angst! please proceed with maturity and caution. is this a happy ending? depends on your mental state idk anymore. ✅ no spoilers

other Eddie Munson Hanahaki Disease fics: Cherry Blossom Colored Kisses Gone with the Sin

It started in the 8th grade, spitting out bits of petals and scraping them off your tongue when nobody was looking; subtly wiping your hands on your jeans and pretending you hadn't. Your child's mind was overwhelmed and confused by the sight but figured it had to be normal, never asking any questions, because who would ever believe your symptoms?

You kept this secret to yourself like you did many others, never sharing with anyone the pain that was slowly creeping through your veins. You didn't even tell him - the boy who made your heart race and palms get sweaty. The boy who made your mind go blank and simultaneously race with thought. He's been your friend since the 1st grade, best friend since 3rd, you thought you could share anything, but after the talent show in 7th grade and you saw the way he was held hostage in his seat while watching Chrissy Cunningham do her cheer routine, you knew things couldn't stay the same.

His eyes were wide, his mouth slightly agape, and it was the first of many star-struck looks Eddie would give the strawberry blonde. A look you'll come to understand would never be directed at you.

Everything around you was changing but you refused to be left behind, so, you changed with the times; you changed with your friend. Your hair was cropped short as his grew out in unruly curls; you wore black almost everyday (like he did), you might've even learned how to play guitar so you two could have another bonding experience, and you even joined his stupid fucking Hellfire Club because you thought you could impress him with your Dungeons and Dragons knowledge that you didn't spend all summer studying over.

When you got to high school, your symptoms changed - just like you did. It wasn't fair, but you never tried to fix what was wrong; Nancy Wheeler spending hours with you in the library as you feigned a personal project you needed to research, searching for any solution. Your friend didn't know you found answers the summer before high school, the summer puberty hit you like a bullet train; the summer everything changed.

You knew something was terribly and fatally wrong yet never bothered to fix it, because why bother putting forth effort into an inevitable end? Your options were limited and neither sounded better than the last.

Option One: you succumb to your symptoms and suffocate. Two: you got a surgery to remove the blooms growing in your lungs - but it would in turn take away all known thought and memory of your beloved. And Option Three: confess your feelings and pray to any and every known God, Goddess, Deity that he would return them.

However, you worried that if he did return your affections - whether he verbalized them or not - you wouldn't be in this predicament to begin with. So, you sucked it up and kept quiet because having him as just a friend was better than forgetting him, or losing his friendship. You were never good being alone but found being alone with him was better than being by yourself. You chose to remain strong and silent, despite the way you withered away inside; you chose to stay close, even though his proximity made your heart crack. You chose to borderline torture yourself because you knew walking away would take more bravery than sticking around.

But in the words of Ellie Newmark, "Unrequited love does not die; it's only beaten down to a secret place where it hides, curled and wounded. For some unfortunates, it turns bitter and mean, and those who come after pay the price for the hurt done by the one who came before."

You positively refused to turn "bitter and mean", so, you plastered a smile on your face and never gave anyone reason to think anything could be wrong. You never thought there'd be anyone after him, because you were enamored with everything he did and the very idea of being in love with anyone except him drove your heart into your throat. The idea was unimaginable.

The first semester of high school, your chest got heavier with meat but also pressure, causing a terrible tightness that left you feeling as if you were breathing through a sauna; your lungs constricted with tendrils of prickling pain, and soon, those bits of petals were fully intact, giving you first sight to what was being hacked out of your body - white chrysanthemums.

After a bit of research, you discovered these particular flowers were used in European funeral bouquets - but not many others. You discovered white chrysanthemums were a symbol of death, grief, and mourning in some Asian cultures, and it did little to quell the worry in your chest.

Yet, how oddly beautiful to suffer through this; where your own body betrayed you but produce something pure, innocent even, despite being slathered with a halo of tacky blood.

However, you feared life without him and even if it meant your heart would permanently weep, you would sign yourself up for a lifetime of pain if it meant he stayed close. If it meant he stayed in your life. If his hand would continue to hold yours. If his smile would grace your sight, if those pillowy lips would form precious nicknames that always made you feel on top of the world.

You'd mourn yourself, in order to preserve and celebrate all he was.

For years, you persevered through the unimaginable pain in body and mind, and for years, you and he grew closer than ever before. In the 10th grade, things changed again - but this was only because you caught yourself about to confess your feelings for Edward Munson. Panic-inducing fear halted the words before they could slip out, and instead, it caused a violent coughing attack.

One so intense that it made you turn away from Eddie and get back in your father's car, driving away from his trailer as your palm was slathered in a slick, sticky mixture of blood and limp white petals.

You felt immense guilt when you glanced in the rearview mirror, Eddie's shocked, confused, and concerned figure standing on his porch - watching you drive away, and wondering what had gone wrong. You two had been smoking, sure, but Eddie often thought that you could smoke him under any table, any day. Maybe he had indulged you too much, and maybe your lungs and throat were going raw from it all - spurring a bud of guilt to sprout in Eddie's gut.

He didn't let you smoke going forward.

You accepted the new limitation because you couldn't handle telling him the truth. You chose to suffer for him, you chose to remain close and depend on him more than you should've. It became increasingly painful to live through your days, and to your heart-stopping fear, the pain was tenfold when you were nearest Eddie.

Eddie, who was oblivious to your pain.

Eddie, who couldn't pick up a fucking hint.

Eddie, who you've been in love with since you were a kid.

Eddie, who you spent every birthday and holiday with.

Eddie, who only ever wanted the pretty, popular head cheerleader... And not you.

Still, his friendship was better than nothing at all and you dealt with the staggering pain that soon left your limbs weak. Surely, the pain of losing him wouldn't match the pain you had now, so, you stuck it out.

You and Eddie hung out every weekend. You went to his shows at The Hideout, you helped him do his homework and study. You defended him against bullies, you'd wipe his tears, hold his hand through tattoos, you brought him new customers to up-charge his drug sales. You loved him, and you did what you could to show that without needing to verbalize it.

You laughed with him, cried, watched movies; went to concerts, checked out books in the library on how to fix automobiles to help him tune up his van. You remembered his Uncle Wayne's birthday and got him a new mug each year, you taught Eddie how to bake, you both would raid the music store and spend his drug money - and he'd always buy you a new record, even if it "wasn't real music".

Because that's what best friends did - they loved each other unconditionally.

And for years, you'd watch him stare after the pretty captain of the cheer team; her oblivious to his staring and him oblivious to yours. It was like a never-ending circle, watching the three of you idiots tiptoe around feelings and truth. Yet Eddie was focused on what was in front of him in the form of Chrissy, never bothering to ever check to see what was behind him - in the form of you.

Because you were always there. A constant presence tethered to his soul, forever being a safety net during the times he pushes himself too far.

The stake in your heart drove deeper when he'd ask your opinion on his hair - wondering if Chrissy would notice the trimmed dead ends (like you did). He'd ask you what flower was your favorite, because he wanted to impress the pretty strawberry blonde with a pretty bouquet. He asked you for a mixtape of your favorite love songs - learning a few of them on his guitar in the hopes of serenading the girl who you'd never be.

Thing was, Eddie was the only constant in your life and you felt it was impossible to walk away from him; some kind of chain keeping you from ever wondering too far. He was there from Day One, never leaving your side, and always knowing when something was wrong - until now.

When your symptoms graduated to coughing out blood daily, he didn't notice. When your chest was ready to cave in, making your breaths ragged and wheezy, he didn't notice. When your eyes became dull and lifeless due to the consistent pain that didn't let you rest through the night, he didn't notice.

What he did notice, was how Chrissy Cunningham was paying him slightly more attention since she and Jason Carver broke up. He noticed when her hair was different, he'd rave about how good she looked in the color green, gush to you in excitement when Mr. Lang had assigned them as project partners, and how Chrissy told him how funny she thought he was.

And the first day they decided to hang out together outside of educational purposes was the day you coughed out a full bloom. Floating on the surface of the water plugged in your bathroom sink was a white chrysanthemum, speckled in bright red blood; a string of red-stained saliva dripping from your mouth as you stared in shock. The face scrub popped lightly on your cheeks and fingertips, but your skincare routine was forgotten as you registered the newest symptom change.

This was new, this was much more painful. The usually beautiful flowers slowly grew in your lungs, sprouting thorns the longer you fought against your feels - refusing to admit defeat, and confess your deepest, longest kept secret.

For the following days, you were excusing yourself every single class period to retch into a toilet bowl, the blooms now sopping wet from your blood due to the shredded rawness of your throat and lungs.

Eddie didn't notice because Chrissy's perfume was still in his nostrils. Her swaying ponytail still behind his eyes. Her beaming smile painted in his mind, and fingers tingling from the ghostly memory of her hand in his.

Thorns sliced your throat, stabbed your tongue, and shredded the inside of your cheeks when you tried to spit them out as quick as possible. It was like your blood was made of glue, keeping the blooms and thorns stuck to your mouth and lips - no matter how your river of tears tried to wash them away. Or how your sobbing breath tried to force them out into the toilet - they just wouldn't budge.

Petals and flowers and thorns stuck to you, like your love for Eddie.

And Eddie didn't notice because Chrissy was wearing that skirt today, and he was telling you all about how beautiful she was instead of focusing on spending quality time with you; instead of noticing how you visibly shrunk into yourself in an effort to quell the pain throbbing in your chest and head, in an effort to block out the pain of hearing the boy you love gush about the girl he loves.

Breathing became harder, as if something were blocking your lungs. Blocking the passageway air needed to travel; blocking you out of your life. It took a physical toll; color of your eyes dulling, hair drying of any moisture, bones protruding from the harsh symptoms that refused to ease in severity. You felt fear for the first time since the 8th grade and this had all first started; trying to weigh your options over what to do.

Three options...

Eddie didn't notice your turmoil to make a decision because Chrissy agreed to a date with him.

Before you know it - years have passed since your first indication of symptoms. You prayed for deliverance, but God couldn't hear you through your gargled cries; coughing petals and blooms out between blobs of thick clots. Your pillow cases were all soiled, yet you couldn't replace them - it was futile with the way blood shot from your mouth and nose. You ran through tissues more than tampons, and your bedroom became something akin to a hospice room.

Eddie didn't notice when you dulled of life.

Being as you were now seniors, you figured showing up at Eddie's trailer in the middle of the night wasn't totally weird. After all, you both had sought refuge with the other since before you really understood what friendship meant. With worry and fear dropping your heart to your feet from the weight of your panic, you hopped in your beat up Toyota and drove through town to reach Eddie's home; used tissues scattered across the passenger seat - all saturated with blooming drops of blood.

You had no idea how to explain what was happening, but you needed to tell him. You needed help, and if there was a chance all of this could be over if you just told him the truth, you were willing to let down your walls. Eddie had always told you he'd do anything to help you, and you just banged your hands on the steering wheel as you tried to rid the idea from your mind that that, too, had changed.

When you got to Eddie's front door, the lights were on and you prayed he'd answer despite the late hour. You knocked, waited; knocked again, waited some more. After 4 minutes, you were pounding at his front door until it was shoved open - forcing you back a step - and to your horror, there stood Chrissy Cunningham... In Eddie's favorite Metallica shirt.

And only his shirt.

"Oh, hey," Chrissy smiles awkwardly, shifting her weight over her feet. Her shining strawberry blonde hair is strung off her neck in a messy bun that makes her look fucking ethereal. "Um, Eddie's in the shower... Do you want me to go get him for you?"

But the small blemish poking out from the collar of the shirt she wore made you shake your head through tears; trying to offer a small smile. "No, oh, my God, I'm so sorry, I-I didn't mean to interrupt. Shit, my bad, Chrissy," you backed away down the stairs, needing to use the railing to save yourself from falling over.

"You weren't," she assured. "We were, um... Done. H-He's in the shower, why don't you come in?" Her brows pulled together as if a string was threaded between them, offering sweetly, "I was gonna make some tea, do you want some? We could, um, hang out? Until he's out of the shower, i-if you want?"

FUCK! You knew Eddie didn't have fucking tea, so, the sweetheart must've brought it with her and now, she's offering to make you some? God damn it. Why'd she have to be so nice!?

"Oh, yeah, um, no, no thanks, Chrissy, that's really nice of you, but it's really nothing. I should just get going, I'll talk to him later, um... H-Have a nice weekend, and I'm sorry, again."

"Are you sure? You look kinda upset - I don't think you should drive right now."

Eddie didn't notice - but one look from Chrissy Cunningham and she had. If your heart wasn't broken before, it was now.

You nodded despite the pain swelling in your chest, "Yeah, no, no I'm fine - I should've just called. It's not a big deal, I'm sorry again, um, good night, Chrissy, um, yeah - just, yeah, have a nice night."

She nodded, "You, too. I hope you feel better, I'll tell Eddie you stopped by."

You trusted that she would, returning home and with petals still sticking to your tongue, charged into your mother's room. She sat up in her bed in shock - late night shifts taking their toll and leaving her sleep deprived. This was her first weekend off in months, and you felt terrible for interrupting her, but you couldn't hold it in anymore.

You needed your mother. You needed her more than ever before because your fear was tangible, and you weren't ready to die.

See, thing is, your mother was borderline your best friend (besides Eddie, that is). She and your father had been high school sweethearts, married, and he died in a tragic car accident on the night your mother was going to tell him she was pregnant on their first wedding anniversary. She never dated, she never brought a man home, she only focused on you. When you got older, she figured she could work more and you were happy to support her; taking up more house chores to save her from any unnecessary stress.

It was just you and your mother... Until Eddie, then, he was a constant presences at your dinner table. He had his own Christmas stocking your mother knitted. His favorite snacks kept in a stocked up supply for whenever he chooses to visit. And you and your mother would spend an entire day baking a cake for his birthday before hosting a full meal for him and his Uncle Wayne.

Your mother never had an issue with doing any of that because she was grateful for Eddie being in your life. It made her feel as if you'd never be alone.

However, you now felt like a burden, but the moment your mother clocked your tears and trembling hands clutching bloody tissues, she was beckoning you to her chest and begging you to tell her what was wrong as she rocked you soothingly.

So, you confessed. Everything.

From that night in 7th grade when you saw Eddie mesmerized by Chrissy Cunningham for the first time. That being the night you coughed out petals... And how everything changed and got worse from there on, and you didn't understand what was wrong, why you were suffering.

You told her about how you were now coughing out the full thorny blooms, how the bleeding wouldn't stop; how the pain was festering, spreading, and suffocating your heart, mind, and soul.

You told her about tonight... What you saw... How nice the cheerleader had been, how you couldn't find it in your heart to hate her, and how you didn't know what to do anymore.

You told her how Eddie didn't notice anymore - he couldn't see you - because he could only see Chrissy, and it was slowly killing you.

It took all night to explain, and your mother sat you at the kitchen table. She made you hot tea and plated a few cookies - talking well through the night and into the morning. She wanted to understand everything and as the sun breached the horizon, she was encouraging you to tell Eddie how you felt after reading the same book you had that explained the disease you suffered from.

You told her she was crazy, but she begged you to at least try. She validated that you had the right idea in going to his trailer; she thought that you and Eddie had always been cute, that you'd make a great couple; and though your sense of style had changed again (after it didn't get Eddie's attention, like you'd hoped), she still thought you two complimented each other well. "You balance each other, my dove," she whispered. "Tell him. Please, for your own sake."

So, you bucked up the courage to tell him on Monday. You'd see him at school and couldn't back down, leaving it neutral grounds for you both to be honest and open in. Or, so you hoped.

That morning, you caught Eddie before he could enter the school and asked to talk to him. "Shit, I meant to call you, doll," he breathed, looking at you with concern. "Chrissy said you were upset and showed up at my door - are you okay? What was wrong? I'm sorry I wasn't there."

So, when Chrissy points it out, he pays attention. Instead, you just answered, "It's okay, I'm okay. Um, c-can we go talk? Privately?"

"Of course, yeah, c'mon," he agreed, leading you to the lesser-populated hallway to slip into the old drama classroom that now posed as the Hellfire Club room. Eddie sat on his throne but leaned forward on his knees to hold your hands as you took time to think over in your mind what you wanted to say.

"Eddie," you whispered. "I-I just really need to tell you something, and you have to promise not to hate me after."

He nodded, "I could never hate you, pretty girl, and you know you can tell me anything."

"Right," you sniffled. "Well, um, listen, I just want you to know that I-I value this friendship more than anything, and never want to jeopardize it..."

"Okay, now you're scaring me," Eddie chuckled. His hands squeezed yours, encouraging, "C'mon, sweetheart, what's going on in that pretty little head of yours?"

You nodded, blurting, "I'm in love with you."

Only the silence stretched between you two like an oversized bubble of Hubba Bubba - popping as your words registered in his mind. His eyes just shot between both of yours, mouth opening to form a word before sighing and shaking his head. Panic and fear gripped your heart, lungs, and mind in a tighter vice than the white chrysanthemums' roots.

"You can't be," he finally whispered brokenly.

A record scratched in your head, "What?"

"You can't be in love with me," his head shook as he repeated his statement. "No, no, you - you can't be."

"Why can't I be? Is it that hard to imagine?"

"Because you're my best friend - you're supposed to be my best friend!" He looked spooked, startled, unsure, and like he was going to have an anxiety attack. "You can't be in love with me, you're just - no!"

"Well, I didn't exactly plan it."

"Just - stop!"

"Stop what?"

"Stop loving me!"

"You don't think I've tried!?"

"Try harder!"

"For fuck's sake, Eddie! You don't think this is hard enough?"

"Well, it'd be easier if you had some kind of restraint!" He snipped, wiping a hand down his mouth. "Shit, I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do about this?"

"I-I don't know!"

"Well, why tell me?"

You gulped, fearing telling him the truth now. Instead, you just whispered, "I-I take it you don't feel the same?"

"Shit, sweetheart," he sniffled, shaking his head, "y-you know I love you but... But no, I-I'm not in love with you."

You nod slowly, blinking even slower, "No?"

"I'm so sorry - fuck, God damn it."

"It's not your fault," you promised. "I-I didn't mean for this to happen, okay? I swear, I didn't want to do this, I never wanted things to change between us."

He nodded sadly, "I get that, I do, but I think I need time to think."

"Wait, what? Think about what, Eddie? L-Like - you need to think about us? You need time to think about us?" You squeaked, panic swelling. You started to cough lightly, that sticky feeling clogging your throat again.

"Yeah," he whispered. "Because I'm with Chrissy and I don't think she would like... This."

Now you understood... "So, because you're dating Chrissy, you can't be friends with me? We've been friends forever, Eddie, why does this have to change things?"

"Because you're in love with me! I didn't want you to be, you were supposed to be my friend. Just my friend!"

"I'm sorry it happened, but why does this mean we can't still be friends? I've dealt with it this long, I can go longer - "

"Because I'm in love with Chrissy, and can't do this to her! For fuck's sake, why'd you have to do this, huh? Why'd you have to fall in love with me right when I got a girlfriend - "

"It didn't just happen, Eddie, I've been in-love with you since middle school! But notice how we stayed friends! Please - please, we can stay friends, this doesn't have to change anything."

He shook his head, standing abruptly, "It changes everything. I gotta go - I just can't be here, I'm sorry."

"Eddie! Please! Wait, just wait, please, let me explain!" You begged, watching him flee the room; the door slamming in an echo around you and forcing the tears teetering in your waterline to fall pathetically. You felt your heart nailing you to the floor, tears falling numbly down your cheeks; hands shaking and coughing getting worse. Your hands finally found feeling again and rose, covering your mouth and nose to catch the splatter.

You hacked as your lungs shriveled to expel whatever clogged them, falling to your knees and needed to use two fingers to reach in the back of your throat to pull a full floral bloom out; blood dripping off of it and from your mouth to soak into the old, dingy carpet. The thorns pierced your finger pads when you rolled the short stem between them, the flower falling into the puddle of blood you'd spat out.

Stumbling to your feet, you kept a tissue in hand and covering your mouth; the material slowly saturating as you punched your mother's number in the outside payphone.

"Mom?" You begged into the receiver, wheezing and sobbing through the pain. Everything had changed, again. "I-I need you to take me to the hospital. Please, Mommy, i-it's hurts. 'S blood everywhere, an-and the pain - Mommy, please, it hurts so bad."

Your mother was pulling up in a skidding halt within 6 minutes. Her rubber tires burned over the pavement, slight smoke wafting into the air to indicate not just her speed, but her harsh stop when she saw your body bolting towards her.

From the side of the school, moments before the first bell rang, Robin Buckley and Nancy Wheeler watched you fully sprint for the car and how fast your mother pulled off, sharing an uneasy look before darting for the same payphone and calling Steve Harrington.

But they couldn't find you all over town, opting to wait at your house instead. They only waited for about an hour before your mother's car was pulling into the driveway.

"You gonna tell them?" Your mom muttered, smiling and waving at the three teenagers.

"Yeah," you whispered. "Doctors said keeping it a secret doesn't make it easier, right?"

She nodded, "For whatever it's worth, my dove, I think you're making the right decision. This took a lot of bravery, but you're going to get better, and you're going to feel better, too."

"I know," you whispered with a watery smile. "Just gonna suck until Thursday."

"I'll call the school, you're gonna be out for recovery for at least 2 weeks."

"Don't forget my post-op appointment," you nodded.

"Right," she agreed, opening her door and triggering you to follow suit. "Hey, kids," she beamed at your worried friends.

They greeted her politely (but enthusiastically) before she was excusing herself and heading for the house. It left you to stand before the three people, who, up until a few years ago, you wouldn't have imagined being real friends with.

Technically, you and Nancy Wheeler had been friends since before Eddie; Robin and Steve coming into your life through inter-dimensional circumstances before choosing to stick around.

"Are you okay?" Nancy asked first, looking the most worried. "We saw you running from school and thought something was wrong."

"So, you blew off school to stalk my house?" you teased lightly, trying to alleviate the pain settling on your heart after leaving the hospital.

"Exactly," Robin crossed her arms. "You ran like something was chasing you - we knew something was wrong. What is it? A-Are you okay? I mean, you looked pretty spooked, we were afraid something else came back - you know - "

"Okay, Robin, yeah," you chuckled lightly, interrupting her rapid words. "Um, I appreciate the concern, but it could've waited."

"Not when you've been acting funny for months now," Nancy shook her head. "Don't think we haven't noticed; you're skinnier, you look like you haven't slept in weeks, you carry tissues around like you're paid for it... What's up with you?"

"And I've clocked the constant nose bleeds," Steve nodded, arms folding against his chest. "Look, if something's going on, you're going to need friends through it, and we're willing to take on the job."

Your heart swelled slightly and you nodded, blinking quickly to keep the tears down. "Um, yeah... Yeah," you sniffled, looking up at them as the emotion couldn't be kept out of your voice, "something's going on, and um... I-I think I would like to tell you guys about it. Do you mind waiting in the backyard? I've gotta grab a book from inside, trust me, it can explain some things better than I can."

Nancy looked nervous as her fingers twisted together; Robin nodding before nudging her along. Steve shifted on his feet and dropped his arms, clearing his throat, "You sure?"

"Yeah," you nodded with a whisper. "Just hang tight."

He nodded with crinkled brows of concern, heading off behind the two girls as you bolted for the front door. Your mother was heard in her room, on the phone, and you dropped your school bag on your bed, snatched up the library book you checked out every year, and made for your backyard.

As kids, you and Nancy loved hanging out here because it was spacious, and your mother had a beautiful garden with patio furniture nestled amongst the greenery. At the white-washed table, Steve, Nancy, and Robin waited together, muttering quietly, and left you to take your seat.

Sighing, you opened the book and slid it forward; Nancy's hands darting to pick it up and read swiftly as you began your tale. After voicing everything to your mother, you had a better idea of how to word it all; starting with when you realized you had a crush on Eddie in the 5th grade, how it festered in middle school, and when you realized you'd only be friends - so, you kept it that way.

You told them about the tiny bits of torn up petals, then how they became intact. Next, you explained how things got worse for you; blooms being coughed out with blood, how Eddie crushed majorly on Chrissy, and then to how everything hit rock bottom.

You explained the petals changed into full blooms, sprouting thorns as you stuffed your feelings deeper inside your cracked heart. You explained the constant pain, the confusion, the sleeplessness, showed them the cuts on your lips and in your mouth; even picking a leftover petal from the inside of your cheek to prove your point.

Steve's hand deftly reached out to examine it.

You explained the mental anguish of loving someone who couldn't love you back; the anguish of being so close - yet so far; and the anguish of knowing you were being killed from the inside, out because you couldn't let go of your overwhelming feelings for Eddie 'the Freak' Munson.

Then... You told them about Chrissy and Eddie at his trailer when you went to tell him the truth. How you confided in your mother for the first time in years. How you were encouraged to tell Eddie - and how it royally backfired, which lead you to today.

To your decision.

To your appointment at the hospital that your mother bullied administration into giving you last minute.

To meeting the cardiothoracic surgeon that diagnosed you with, as the library book highlighted, Hanahaki Disease.

Steve had tears in his eyes; elbows bent on the tabletop to keep his folded hands in front of his mouth, like he was physically suppressing his emotion with the petal laid to the table. Robin stared at you the whole time, never once making you feel as if you were talking to thin air; brows crinkled and perked at appropriate moments, never interrupting.

Nancy had read the entire passage before slamming the book down and letting her tears fall. She listened intently as you explained to the three that you had to choose one of three options, and immediately after that, you told them you had come to a decision.

You'd made the appointment and you were to under the knife that Thursday before returning in two weeks for a post-op check-up that would ensure all of the blooms were cleared from your lungs. And after today, you had discovered the plants were creeping up your esophagus and if you waited, soon, it would kill you.

"Well, why're you upset?" Robin asked gently, reaching for your hand. "This is good, right? Y-You'll be cured!"

You nodded in agreement, but it was Nancy voicing, "She'll forget Eddie completely."

"What?" Steve asked, looking between you and Nancy urgently. "Are you serious?"

"It's the only contingency in exchange for my life," you nodded.

"You've been friends forever," he shook his head, leaning back. "No, I just - I can't believe him. He doesn't love you back? That's just bullshit - c'mon!"

"Steve - "

"No, seriously!" he cut Robin off, her hand tightening in mine. "We've all seen how he looks at you, how he behaves! It doesn't make sense, it's not possible. He's just scared," his head shook still, looking angry with pinched brows. "He's scared and he's not thinking."

"No, Stevie," you whispered, "he understands, and trust me, he doesn't feel the same. It's okay."

"You'll forget your best friend," Steve shook his head. "That's not okay."

"It's a small price to pay, right?"

Nancy nodded, "If it means you're out of pain, and you won't die, yeah, I'd say it's a reasonable price to pay."

You agreed, "It's gonna be okay, but I'll be in recovery until the surgeon okay's me to return to school and normal activity."

"Will you remember why you need the surgery?" Robin wondered.

"Apparently not," you shrugged.

For the next few days, you remained at home and prepared for your operation. Your mother worked extra shifts because she was taking Thursday through TBD in order to take care of you, and your friends visited you everyday.

Nobody spoke of Eddie, who had asked Robin that Wednesday where you were - only to receive a fierce glare and slammed locker in his face. Chrissy's brows furrowed at the aggression, worrying something was wrong with you if your friends were shunning Eddie. She reminded him of how upset you'd been when you showed up at his trailer, his mind flashing to when he found a bloodied white chrysanthemum in the Hellfire room after he left you when you confessed your feelings for him.

He knew that was why you showed up at his trailer that night, and his heart constricted as he grew cold in your absence. He had to admit, if you've had these feelings since middle school, you never let it interfere with your friendship and he was a fool for blowing up at you.

Could it really be that hard to love you? Was the idea that far fetched?

The day of your surgery, your mother and you pushed out of your front door at 4 am to make it to the hospital for pre-op; blood work; all the standard procedures that needed done before you were sliced open and roots carved out of your lungs. And to your honest shock? Steve Harrington was waiting on the street, leaning on his car, dressed in a pair of jeans and an old hoodie.

"What're you doing here?" You wondered, oblivious to your mother's knowing smirk.

Steve shrugged lightly, "Figured you'd want a familiar face around, and Nance and Robin have tests in school today - otherwise, they'd be here, too."

"'Too'?" You repeated with a soft smile.

"Yeah, well, I-I'd still be here," he nodded. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah," you breathed, nodding with a soft smile. "I think I'd really appreciate the, um..."

"Support? Comfort? Seeing my pretty face when you wake up from anesthesia?" He grinned.

"All of the above, Harrington, c'mon," you chuckled, waving him with you. In your mother's car, she kept conversation light as a distraction when your nerves flared the closer you drove to the hospital; the boy in the back doing his best to chime in charmingly. Steve was allowed to stay with you once in the pre-op procedure room (again, your mother bullied hospital admin into letting him stay), and cracked a few really poor jokes while needles were poked into your skin.

Medicine was administered, your hair stuffed into a surgical cap, vitals taken for a final time - and then it was time to go.

When you were wheeled away, Steve squeezed your hand and your mother kissed your forehead; both wishing you luck, reminding you of your brave decision, and sent you down the sterile hallway. While staring up at the blinding, florescent lights of the operating room, a gas mask was placed over your mouth and the anesthesiologist instructing you to count backward from ten... And your heart begged you to change your mind.

Begged you not to erase Eddie. Begged you to jump off that table.

But your mind told only your tongue to move, and you counted, "Ten."

Eddie's soft hair through your fingers, "Nine."

Eddie's stupid grin when he's showing you a new guitar riff he'd mastered, "Eight."

Eddie's laugh, "Seven."

The warmth of Eddie's hugs, "Six."

His hands holding your cheeks, thumbs sweeping to clear your tears as he would coo to you, trying to calm you down, "...Five..."

"She's out," the doctors nodded to one another; scalpels clinking over the sterile table, machines beeping to indicate vital readings, and rubber gloves snapped into place as your hospital gown was peeled away, and disinfecting betadine squirted over your skin.

Across town, in the hallways of Hawkins High, Eddie was pacing by your locker. He looked disheveled, not himself; confused and scared, by what Robin could judge.

"What're you doing here?" she shot venomously, using her hand to push his chest and force him back a step from your locker.

"Where is she?" he begged. "Please, Robin, I know she's hurt - I know I hurt her, but I have to talk to her an-and she hasn't been at school all week. Please - I have to talk to her."

She used your combination to open your locker and set the packet of missed work inside for her to pick up at the end of the day, sneering, "It's too late."

"No, it's not - "

"No, seriously, Eddie," she snapped, the locker slamming in an echo. "It's too late for you. She's let you go, time for you to do the same."

For two weeks, Eddie repeated the last words he'd said to you, how broken you looked when he said he didn't love you. The words you said to him, then how you weren't seen again, to that bloody flower he found, and how Robin, Nancy, and Steve were all giving him the cold shoulder. He thought over what went wrong and every single way he was going to make it up to you, because while he might be in love with Chrissy Cunningham, there was never replacing you - and he needed you.

Eddie needed you.

And his heart sunk to his stomach as he realized how bitter he's turned; shunning Chrissy, becoming testy, canceling Hellfire, and missing you to the point he was tugging his hair out of his scalp and chain smoking cigarettes.

Loving you was easy and maybe he's loved you longer than he's known - longer than he ever wanted to admit. But missing you was hard, and Eddie wasn't accustomed to it.

It was supposed to be easy between you two, but when you confessed your feelings, Eddie felt everything become messy and change. Eddie Munson wasn't very good with change. He missed your laugh, he missed your comfort, a few times he'd even looked up to his bed when he mastered a new guitar riff - and feeling his heart sink in disappointment when he only saw Chrissy.

Granted, she was smiling at him, but it wasn't your smile. Tears filled his eyes when he realized he spent every Friday with Chrissy, finding new ways to impress the cheerleader, and feeling crushed when he remembered he never needed to impress you. You were always proud of him, you always encouraged him, and with a single look, you could say more than ever opening your mouth.

Eddie needed you, and he had ruined any chance of loving you properly. But Edward Munson was stubborn and not willing to give up, not until you were beating him off with a stick. The two of you had been friends forever and he knew you had some fights, but one way or another, someone was always apologizing and together, you could move past the issue. So, until you were telling him to fuck off, he was going to try - because you had never given up on him.

Two weeks of nothing. Two weeks of your home's voicemail. Two weeks of nobody answering the front door. Two weeks of confusion, heartache, and stress. Two weeks of smoking packs of cigarettes, of snapping at Chrissy, of praying to a God he's never prayed to before.

When he saw you that Friday, Eddie's heart leapt into his throat and he gave a strangled gasp before sprinting across the carpark to make it to your side. You were surrounded by Nancy Wheeler and Robin Buckley, all three piling out of Steve Harrington's car - who now leaned on his driver's door, mid-conversation - and he thought you looked more beautiful than ever.

The weight you've lost had slowly built back up now that you weren't constantly vomiting. Your head had cleared, your heart feeling lighter than ever before, your veins racing with helium, and the bags under your eyes had cleared. In fact, your eyes looked clearer than they ever had, and your skin was practically glowing.

God did you look good.

Eddie panted your name, coming to a skidding halt as Steve pushed off his car and looked at you with worry.

Why would Harrington need to worry about you?

"Oh, uh, hi there?" you nodded at him, tugging your binder closer to your chest and sending a cautious look to Robin.

But Eddie's heart was in his throat, "I-I need to talk to you, please."

To his horror, you shook your head, "Um, I don't think we actually have anything to talk about."

"What? No, we have so much to discuss, please, I know I was a jackass and you don't deserve that - "

"Wait, hang on, I-I'm sorry. You don't understand, we don't have anything to talk about," you chuckled weakly, "because I don't know you."

Ice shot into Eddie's veins, stuttering, "W-What? Th-That's not funny, doll, don't joke like that."

You looked at Nancy for support, whispering in a small, panicked voice, "I don't know him, do I, Nance? I don't think I know him."

"No, honey," Nancy assured, smiling softly at you before glaring at Eddie. "He's just a classmate."

Eddie knew Nancy was protective of you but what the hell was going on? What kind of a sick prank was this? Look, Eddie knew he's pulled some mean jokes in his life but this? This wasn't mean, it was cruel, and he didn't find it funny in the least bit.

"What? No - what the hell are you guys talking about?" Eddie begged, looking between the four teenagers. "Sweetheart, it's me - it's Eddie. It's your Eddie, please, what do you mean you don't know me - what's going on? This isn't funny, sweetheart, please, okay? Look, we've known each other a decade, right, how can you - how can you not know me?"

"I'm really sorry, um... Eddie? Was it Eddie?"

His heart shattered, shards stinging as they were pumped through the rest of his body. "Sweetheart, no, please, I just... I'm so sorry, but this isn't funny - "

"Look, I'm really sorry, but this isn't a joke, I really don't know you," your head shook. "And I would remember someone I've known a decade - right?" You asked Nancy again, looking nervous. "I-I don't know him, but he knows me. Nancy, I-I don't understand, I don't know what's wrong. Is something wrong with me?"

"No, honey," she rushed to speak, sending Steve a pointed look when stress made your eyes shine. "You're okay, you're okay, it's okay."

"Okay, hey, hey, hey, okay," Steve stepped in, pushing Eddie back a few steps. "You need to back off, you're upsetting her."

"I'm upsetting her?" he repeated, tears collecting as his feet tried to plant against Steve's force. "She doesn't remember me - "

"Back off, dude," Steve warned.

"I'm really sorry," you called to him, genuine look of distorted pain over your face. "I'm sorry," you repeated to Robin and Nancy, "I-I don't know him, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. I-I don't know what's wrong, I'm sorry - "

"Hey, hey, breathe, okay? It's all fine, it's all good, you're okay, I promise, just try to focus on breathing," Robin assured, hand rubbing circles over your back.

"No! Baby! You do know me!" Eddie begged over Steve's shoulder as Nancy turned you away. "Please! No! You know me, baby! Don't do this, please, please, I need you! Sweetheart - please! I need you, and I'm so sorry for what I said! Don't do this! No, please, I-I'm sorry!"

His heart glued itself back together just to shatter once again when Robin took your books to let your hands slap over your ears to block him out as Nancy directed you away - Steve still pushing Eddie back.

"Dude!" Steve snapped with anger coloring his iris' a darker shade, "You're fucking upsetting her!"

"Steve, please - "

"No," Steve shook his head. "You had your chance, and it's too late. Okay? Leave her alone, she doesn't remember and doesn't need you trying to 'remind' her when it's already done, dude. Okay? It's done."

"What the hell does that mean? Please, Steve, I need her - she's my best friend and I can fix this," Eddie begged.

Steve felt fleeting compassion for the other boy, seeing the distress and heartbreak over his face. Steve sighed, glancing back to see you being spoken to softly by Nancy and Robin, assuring you it was okay not to remember the boy with long hair, before turning to look into the eyes that had broken your heart on too many occasions.

"She doesn't remember because you were removed from her memory, Ed, you were just... All of you was removed from her, okay?" Steve sighed finally. "Look, it's hard to explain, but do yourself and her a favor?"

"Anything."

"Go to the library and look this up," he pulled a torn piece of paper from his pocket, handing it over. "It'll explain what was wrong, and you should hopefully be able to piece together why she can't remember you. Don't make this harder, all right? She's finally okay, and you were so sure you didn't want her that it's time for you to be okay without her, too. Don't do this to her, man, you get me?"

"What did I do?" Eddie whispered.

Steve gulped, shaking his head, "You couldn't love her back."

Eddie stood there, piece of paper clutched in his fingertips like the petal of a flower, as Steve turned and headed for you three girls. He lifted his arm to bring you in for a side hug, assuring you that it was okay not to remember - while Eddie stood there, like you had so many times, watching with tears and heartbreak in his eyes.

He didn't go to classes, he obsessively searched books for the Hanahaki Disease Steve told him about; finding his answers, and never finding peace. He had to live everyday watching you really bloom into your own person; becoming more radiant by the passing second, realizing he was draining you of your life before, and how there wouldn't ever be room for him with you now.

When you graduated with an acceptance to your first choice college, you returned home in your cap and gown with a giggling Robin and Nancy; planning on changing and getting ready to hit a few grad parties already. The girls were so excited that you were feeling (and looking) better now that they didn't want to waste anymore time and insisted you all hit a few parties. However, before you could hop up the stairs to your room, a large bouquet of flowers caught your attention.

Sat on your kitchen counter was a thick bouquet of white chrysanthemums. There was no note, no signature, but something in your gut twisted with knowledge. Your fingers reached out to gently stroke the petals before smiling lightly, leaning in to sniff them, and then turn for the stairs to rush up to your bedroom.

All the while across town, a long haired metalhead in a matching green cap and gown, tipped a bottle of Irish whiskey to his lips; a single stemmed white chrysanthemum rolled between his fingers; old polaroid photos scattered around his body on the floor, tears sliding down his cheeks, and regret echoing across his mind.

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson drabble #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson angst #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson fic #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things 4 #stranger things season 4 #requests open

[samd1o1]

The Disability Coding Of Aphelios

Hey everyone! Today I thought I'd write a little post about my comfort character Aphelios; The Weapon Of The Faithful from League Of Legends!

Specifically I wanted to talk about the disability coding of Aphelios. For those who don't know; coding means the character is written to be an allegory for a life experience. It's about the closest you can get to canon without being necessarily canon. Many stories in magical fantasy universes use this technique. The most common reasons are for hiding from censorship and backlash, and creativity. I personally find coding way more interesting because of all the ways people can think to use magic as an allegory. But I also understand the importance of canon representation. Luckily, Aphelios does both!

So let's start with base main universe Runeterra Aphelios. To be able to talk to his sister and access her weapons he has to drink a special moon flower poison. This poison causes him immense constant pain. It also renders him mute. Obviously he isn't technically disabled. He can choose to not drink the flower (though that would be a dumb decision). But the fact he *must* drink it to save his people and it leaves him to chronic pain and muteness to the point of becoming numb to the world. That screams chronic illness's that cause pain.

Now many League lore nerds are always quick to do an "uhm actually" when you call Aphelios mute. But they're not thinking of the coding of it. Like I said earlier; fantasy stories using coding is very common for many types of minorities, not just disabled people.

My favorite example of disability coding is Hunter from The Owl House. Hunter lives in a world full of witches but he has no magic. He struggles at times but is able to find a way to navigate the world. He uses his palisman as a disability aid and makes do.

Now I'd understand some people not seeing this or just denying it. But what they did with HEARTSTEEL Aphelios basically confirms to me the disability coding was intentional (or at the very least something they're sticking with).

HEARTSTEEL is a boy band in the League musicverse. If there was ever a time to make Aphelios speak, it would be a boy band that sings. But no they didn't do that. In fact they understood the music verse is a more grounded universe (hinted to be our own even) so they made him CANONICALLY disabled.

When Aphelios was younger he had nodes in his vocal cords and they had to be surgically removed. Aphelios never fully recovered and lost his singing voice and the majority of his normal voice. He can't really speak above a whisper. In interviews he whispers to his sister Alune and she answers for him. (Someone teach this poor man sign language).

Another thing I find cool about HEARTSTEEL Aphelios is how he copes. Aphelios is the lyricist of the band. Kayn and Sett's verses are very in character for themselves but K'sante's fits Aphelios as a character way better.

"They wanna kiss me long good night with a rose

Hoping that the Eiffel falls, of course

You don't understand the life we chose

(On life support, life goes)

I need my silence, my privacy so I can heal

And even rockstars got feelings that they feel

In reality, this just repeats like a drill

Always"

This verse shows Aphelios struggle with being disabled. He didn't choose this life, but life goes on. The best part of this verse is that his friends are his voice. The fact K'sante sung his lyrics is very powerful. Shown in the music video, his friends metaphorically (and literally) saved him from drowning.

I can speak from experience that friends are very important. They really can help you through the toughest times and save you from drowning.

(I also feel it is important to mention; that while it's beautiful that someone sung Apehlios thoughts for him. It is suspicious they chose the ONE black champion in the band. The other two who sang solo verses got to have screen time all to themselves for their verses. K'sante isn't present at all for his verse and it is instead Aphelios and Yone.)

Anyway that was a little infodump about Aphelios and why I love his disability coding. I really appreciate that Riot are keeping him mute in all universes so far. (My worst fear is a legendary skin where he speaks.) Riot has stated that while champions are different people with different life experiences in the alternate universes that the champions will keep their core identities. They were mainly referring to LGBTQ champs in this statement, but disability is also a major part of identity. I'm sure it applies here too. Sona has also stayed mute in all universes as far as I know (she just uses aids like telepathy and text to speech).

Anyway see you all later on the rift where I will OTP HEARTSTEEL Aphelios and maybe some Sett support because I'm gay.

#Aphelios #HEARTSTEEL #Settphel #Kinda? #Disabled #Aphelios The Weapon Of The Faithful #Aphelios League Of Legends #League Of Legends #LoL #Legends Of Runeterra #LOR

[madtomedgar]

Since fools are hand-wringing about (cis) women (and afab trans people) "mutilating" themselves by getting hysterectomies because it """harms""" their bodies and shows an alienation with the body:

The uterus has no hormonal or sexual function (according to my drs). It is a bag to grow a baby in. If you get rid of it, and not the ovaries, you can expect such horrrors as:

A mild and temporary mood drop from hormone fluctuation, especially if you had an IUD that was removed with the uterus.

Some minor temporary intestinal problems as your organs readjust to the gap.

A few months of sexual dysfunction while the body readjusts itself. It went away entirely on its own within 6 months of surgery.

Some mild confusion once a month when you feel like killing or crying about everything but because you no longer menstruate you get no advanced warning or bloody reminder that this is only the standard hormonal fluctuation and not a new type of insanity hitherto unbeknownst to science.

That's it.

Insisting that there are other treatment methods for things like endometriosis and PCOS is actively harmful. I promise you we have tried them all, whether we wanted them or not, whether they worked or not, whether they made things worse or not. It is pretty much impossible to get a doctor to agree to a surgical solution until you are 30 and have tried everything else for at least a year per alternative treatment. Some of these alternative treatments, like lupron, can have awful, permanent consequences for your body, like irreparable loss of bone density, while only working in about 1/3 of patients, and then only temporarily. You can't be on it long term because it will destroy your bones. Most of these treatments involve preventing menstruation, since that's when the symptoms are the worst. For context, I've recovered from surgery without painkillers, I've broken bones, and neither one of those was anywhere near as bad as peak endometriosis symptoms. Heavy bleeding and hemorrhaging, which also occur in these disorders, cause other issues for you body, including but not limited to chronic anaemia.

I get wanting to rehab the uterus' image. I get concerns, given the history of medicine, over a misogynistic society just cutting women up to their detriment rather than treating them holistically and effectively. I get wanting to keep your own uterus. But panic doesn't help here, and neither does insisting this organ is special and necessary and it's function is special and necessary.

If you want to freak out about women being pushed to harmful, unnecessary surgery, gastric bypass and other weight loss surgery is right there y'all.

#menstruation #endometriosis #also you only ~need~ a period if you have a uterus #and even then you dont ~need~ it every month

[burbur-49]

Scarred Love: Chapter Two: Need To Know

A/n: Here's chapter two! chapter three will be posted anytime this week as it's not the weekend anymore and I have school, so please keep that in mind! I've also given reader's friend a name: Eve!

word count: 1,114

Cw: somewhat insecure reader, Ghoap x f!reader, soulmates, talk about scars

Ch1, Ch2, Ch3, Ch4, Ch5, Ch6, Ch7~ Masterlist

“Yes! Yes! Go! Go talk to them!” She says excitedly.

“What would I even say to them?” You reply, your voice a mixture of caution and want.

Your friend clasps your hands and looks at you with the most serious expression you’ve ever seen on her face. She looks at you with the determination you wish you could have. Her determination is somewhat giving you some determination of your own.

“Girl, I’ve known you for so long now. You’ve never liked the idea of having a soulmate, but the look in your eyes when you look at them is something I’ve never seen from you before. You’re looking at them with want and need. Go talk to them.” Eve says with the most loving and understanding look in her eyes.

You advert your eyes from her gaze in self-doubt. “But what if they think I’m just screwing with them…I’ve never heard of a person having two soulmates so I doubt they have either…”

Eve scoffs and rolls her eyes. “Dear, I don’t think they’d think that. I think they might find it strange that they have another soulmate and didn’t know about it. If you really think they’d doubt you with only being able to see the scars on your face, then take off your jacket. They’ll recognize the scars as their own. Recognize you as their own.”

You know she’s right, but you still can’t help but feel insecure.

“But still…They already have each other…What they decide that they don’t need or want me?” You sigh weakly.

Eve sighs disapointedly. “Sweetheart, if they decide that they don’t want you even though you might be their soulmate. Just know, I’ll personally beat their asses no matter how much bigger or stronger they are than me.”

She pulls you into a deep, strong hug. One that always grounds you and calms your nerves. You hug her back, knowing that she means it, even if it’s unlikely that she’d actually physically fight them. You take a deep breath, thank her, and walk towards the group of men. Once you’re within a couple of feet of the men you make yourself known.

“Uhm… Hello?” You say in a semi-quiet but confident voice.

One of the men, one with a blue cap with a British flag on it turns around at the sound of your voice. He looks you up and down and then smiles and holds out his hand.

“Hey there little lass, name’s Kyle.” He says sweetly with a toothy smile.

“Hi… Uhm, I kind of wanted to speak to your friends over there.” You say with a hand gesture to the two whom you think are your soulmates. A tall blonde man with a black surgical mask on, and a brunette man with a short mohawk who’s a tad bit shorter than the blonde man.

“Oh? You want to speak with Johnny and Simon? If you’re looking for a fun night, sorry but they’ve already found their soulmate; each other.” He says gently as if trying not to let you down.

“No, no, you don’t understand; I think I’m also their soulmate.” You say as you remove your jacket showing Kyle the scars that decorate your arms.

He takes a look at your arms and his expression turns to one of shock and his mouth makes a perfect little ‘o’ shape.

“Oh….Oh! Holy shit!” He immediately recognizes the scars as the ones he’s seen on Johnny and Simon’s arms a million times. “Simon! Johnny! Come here for a second!”

Johnny and Simon walk over to where you and Kyle are standing. Even though you’ve made up your mind to speak to them, you can’t help but want to walk away and forget for fear of rejection.

“What do y’need Garrick?” The blonde says in a gruff voice as if he’s annoyed to be called away from what he was doing.

“Simon, don’t be like that, Kyle’s got a bonnie girl with ‘em. Maybe he wants to introduce us to his Lassie.” The brunette jokes, which earns a scoff from Simon.

Your hands tremble a bit, and you clasp them behind your back nervously as you try to find the right words to speak. What if they laugh at me? What if they think I’m playing some sick prank? Any and every situation of what could go wrong played through your head, but you still went through with it.

“Actually, I’m here for you guys…” You say nervously as you look at the two men in front of you. The lights behind them have been somewhat engulfed by Simon’s large frame, so they can’t exactly see the scars on your face that match theirs.

“What do you mean ‘here for us’, Lass?” Johnny asks curiously with a raised eyebrow. Simon gives you an equally curious look.

“I-I believe I may be your soulmate.” You do this with all the confidence and courage you can muster. Your response to his question makes both Johnny and Simon laugh, not at you, but at the idea of having another soulmate.

“Lassie, I don’t think that's right. You can’t have two soulmates.” Johnny says with a light chuckle still present in his voice.

You sigh, a tad disappointed and upset. Disappointed because, even though you didn’t expect them to believe you they didn’t. And upset because you think they’re laughing at you.

“Look…I know it’s absurd. It sounds insane even to me.” You think for a moment on the way to ‘prove’ it to them and you settle for removing your jacket. You remove your jacket, but then you realize that Simon is blocking the light. “Hey, uh, could you move over a bit, you’re blocking the light.”

“Oh, sorry.” Simon huffs before moving over and letting the light shine onto you.

Once the light shines on you, the scars on your face, neck, arms, and shoulders are visible to your eyes. Their eyes trail from each little scar, a trail they’ve followed on each other’s bodies a million times.

“Holy shit…” They mumble in unison. 

“I-I….” At this point, all the words you wanted to say have left you. You’re left waiting for whatever the two men in front of you are going to do next.

Simon and Johnny look at each other, and then back at you, and then back at each other. They give each other a nod before looking at you and reaching out their hands.

“Come with us.” Johnny says with a bit of urgency in his voice. 

You’re stuck in your own mind. Do you take their hands and follow them or do you refuse them and say you want to talk here?

Taglist: @under-the-dirt @littlebluespoon

#ghoap x reader #soulmates #ghost x reader #ghost x soap #ghost x soap x reader #soap x reader #soap x fem reader #ghost x female reader #Scarred Love