#still not all the way there but its a process

[snowyh2o]

Just a random thought about how Alastor and Vox must’ve been really good friends before everything fell apart. Because Alastor knows how to make a video ad, he knows how to set things up for a movie/video shoot, things that had nothing to do with his medium, that he probably learned how to do because of Vox, because he was willing to try and learn from or for Vox. And Vox literally welcomes Alastor back home when he finds out he’s returned, has literally counted the years Alastor’s been missing when no one else seemed to know, and fashioned his clothing style to match Alastor’s (assuming it’s not just a case of everyone gets a pinstripe suit!), uses the same techniques Alastor taught Charlie about how smiling can be a tool to keep you ahead of the game.

And how it all fell apart and it wasn’t just Vox that was hurt in the process. Because you can’t tell me the man who hates TVs and modern tech due to its association with Vox doesn’t feel anything for what friendship they had and lost. Who snarls at the mere sight of him on a screen (admittedly while also dissing Alastor), who went straight back to his radio tower to diss Vox right back (and absolutely crush him lol), before threatening him against taking action, privately, twice. Alastor’s just better at hiding how much it’s affected him, and doesn’t let the bitterness of what used to be consume his every waking thought.

And maybe that’s the difference between how they view their old relationship and how the fandom seems to view it. Alastor’s upset about it, sure. He’s bitter now about Vox and everything Vox represents because he’s a past friendship that failed, but he’s also moved on with his life. Vox hasn’t. Vox still obsesses over Alastor, in the way he dresses, the way he talks, how he presents himself. It’s all reminiscent of Alastor. And when he finds out Alastor’s returned, the first thing he does is draw attention to how Alastor’s back! Talk in a roundabout way about how much he’s missed him! Has wondered where he’s been? Sends a spy into the hotel to, well, spy on Alastor! And when that doesn’t work, Vox continues to stalk Alastor through his drones instead. (And then gets off on seeing Alastor get beat up.)

Vox very much has not moved on from whatever friendship they’d had before. He hasn’t moved on from Alastor. (Or from his heavily implied obsessive crush).

We don’t know what happened between them, aside that it’s complicated and sad, that they were friends, and now they’re very much not, and that maybe part of the reason why is because Alastor rejected Vox’s request to join his team (upend his entire life to partner with Vox, assuming Alastor always worked solo and what the Vees currently have is what Vox had wanted with Alastor with his request). We can assume maybe part of why they fell apart was because Vox wanted something more from his relationship with Alastor, something Alastor could not and did not want to give him. Or maybe they just grew apart, grew distant. Vox constantly upgrading and changing and keeping up with the newest trends, chasing whatever new Thing that’ll keep him relevant, while Alastor remained set in his ways because he’s not looking for the approval of the masses.

Anyways, all this to say: when I, and I assume most other OneWayBroadcast fans talk about one-sided radiostatic, it is specifically about how Vox has a one-sided romantic/sexual attraction/crush on Alastor, that Alastor does not return, that has now turned into a one-sided obsession over Alastor. Not that their entire friendship was completely one-sided. I think saying that Vox was the only one who was ever invested in their relationship is a rather bad faith interpretation of Alastor’s character, but also does not do their relationship justice at all. It minimizes Vox’s responsibility in the fallout of their friendship, and puts the blame only on Alastor. It takes away all the juicy complexities of Vox’s character, how he’s bad person who’s done and is doing bad things, and paints him as an innocent victim to “Alastor’s manipulation”.

That’s not to say Alastor was completely innocent in the fallout either. But I hear a lot more about how the fandom woobifies Vox in their relationship than I do Alastor.

#hazbin hotel #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor #Vox #vox hazbin hotel #Alastor analysis #Alastor meta #hazbin hotel analysis #hazbin hotel meta #radiostatic #onesided radiostatic #onewaybroadcast #<- tagging those because it’s mentioned though the post isn’t about the ship #Aroace alastor #aromantic alastor #asexual Alastor #<- mentioned #am I vagueing something I saw in the Aroace Alastor tag? maybe #but this is something I’ve seen and heard from other people elsewhere #about how only Vox cared and Alastor was just ‘manipulating’ him #and other bad faith interpretations of Alastor’s character #I’m sorry if someone moving on from past relationships makes them an irredeemable monster to you #but Vox’s feelings are not Alastor’s responsibility #it’s on Vox and Vox alone to deal with it #that he’s chosen to obsess over it instead of moving on and getting together with Val #is alllllll Vox

[fushigurro]

𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙈𝙊𝙍𝙏𝙀𝙈 / 𝙋𝙊𝙎𝙏𝙋𝘼𝙍𝙏𝙐𝙈.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗢𝗥𝗨 𝗚𝗢𝗝𝗢 𝗫 𝗚𝗡!𝗥𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗘𝗥. ��� sfw, but minors dni (potential for nsfw continuations) / jjk manga spoilers / this is my version of "came back wrong" gojo inspired by recent events, but it turned out somewhat softer than i expected / what happens when satoru is brought back and suddenly finds himself deeply attached to you of all people?

yandere!gojo / he's also slightly higher-needs disabled coded… idk i tried to approach it as best as i could. it's an unfamiliar thing for reader and they're trying to process it / i very well may try to continue this because it is rotting my brain!! / 1.7k words

“Satoru… you need to eat.”

A full bowl of soup sits on the table before him untouched, his hands resting unoccupied in his lap and eyes trained on your figure as you circle around to stand near him. That piercing blue gaze is ridden with innocence, lips parted like those of a quizzical child, but they turn upwards into a pleased grin when you take a seat in the chair next to him.

You’d prepared a rather simple dish, something you figured might be easy for him to consume and digest given his… peculiar state, but Satoru apparently had yet to pay any interest to it. He instead sat obediently in his chair just as you had commanded several minutes ago, unable to initiate the task of feeding himself, for he was much more intrigued from afar by your every move as you tidied the kitchen. It was as though he couldn’t find the drive to function unless you were within an overwhelmingly short distance of him.

Satoru’s heart thumps now that you’re close, a burst of satisfaction rushing through his brain. Dopey yet stimulating chemicals. You are Pavlov’s ringing bell. 

He is reminiscent of a child picked up from school by their beloved parent, or a puppy being reunited with its owner after a day at the vet, overcome with joy and unable to properly contain it. He leans forward and presses his lips to your neck as though that is the appropriate response to his elation, the crossed wires in his brain telling him that this is the sort of affection that will please you and is therefore the sort of affection he most desperately wants to give.

His condition was difficult to understand, and you wouldn’t call yourself properly equipped to deal with it, but there was simply no other option but to try; Gojo wouldn’t let anyone else try, the horrible rattling in his skull consuming him when deprived of your presence for too long. Yuuta had described the look in his eyes as “frenzied and lost.” You were told that the infirmary still needed repairs.

Once he returned to this world, Satoru had been stripped down to his essence, bare bones, a creature of instinct, reduced to something quite simple yet difficult for the average person to understand. But you had to understand, or try at the very least. This was the new burden placed upon your shoulders; it was either soothe this new version of Satoru Gojo for the sake of the world, or find a way to send him back into the icy arms of death. You were often caught between which option sounded worse.

However, when met with the sweetest and most earnest of his smiles, your bones were frosted with guilt, and you regretted ever entertaining the idea of letting him go again.

You stumble over getting him to perform necessary tasks and be further than 5 feet away from you at any given time, because it seems that, upon his revival, Satoru equates you and only you with everything of importance in his life. It’s more than a little unnerving given the fact that you’d never so much as even kissed prior to the loss of him, and now his neurons only fire off every happy memory he’s ever had of you, every positive thing he’s ever felt, no matter how stifled. You are his entire world now, and he can’t even verbalize it, but as each day passes following his awakening, you’re starting to gather that much on your own. You can’t be frustrated for long, however, because his cheerfulness is contagious, his enthusiasm making you feel loved even if it is somewhat smothering.

Is this selfish of you? 

The man's lips travel slowly across your skin, pacified by your presence, your taste, and ignoring the grumble in his stomach. How does one differentiate the types of hunger? You don’t attempt to fight him off, but rather exhale a defeated sigh in response. It hasn’t been long since you’ve been tasked with this responsibility, but it feels as though you’re frequently fighting a losing battle and failing him all the same. It’s so peculiar, so very unnatural… but still, you have to try.

“Satoru, please…” you beg, voice light in his ear and a hand settling at his nape. His nerve endings come alive every time his name leaves your lips. The bell. “Just one bite? For me?”

That seems to do the trick, as you’ve gathered. Satoru pulls himself back, hyper-aware of the tone in your voice and suddenly willing to comply. He’s more than eager to accept the spoon into his mouth when you offer it, placing your fingers beneath his chin and carefully bringing the soup up to his lips. He swallows it with ease, the task literally more palatable now that you’ve reminded him of how badly you would like him to complete it. Anything for you.

“There,” you say, satisfied and offering a faint, exhausted smile. He grins widely in response and hums, no longer capable of words of his own, but his simple noise expresses his glee with efficacy. Satoru decides to punctuate it by pressing the tip of his nose to yours for good measure.

It feels wrong to enjoy these subtle moments of intimacy with someone who doesn’t appear to be in his right mind, but who are you to say whether he is or not? There’s still an agency he possesses, a heart full of emotions, and a mind teeming with thoughts that you wish you could be privy to. He might be different now, but part of you wants to say with certainty that the old Satoru is still here with you somehow—you can sense it. He chuckles at particular images that flash across the TV and still gets a kick out of teasing you to some degree. To diminish that seems like a disservice to him.

You’re unable to deprive him of the happiness your closeness provides nonetheless; in fact, it’s obviously rather dangerous for you to even try and do so. Satoru’s conscious recollections are filled primarily with you, but his body is still more or less the same as it always was—the vessel of his clan’s power, the strongest sorcerer on earth. You’re not sure to what extent he remembers how to control these abilities, but part of you doesn’t wish to find out. For now, you care for him, placate him, re-learn him. Nothing is certain about the situation other than the fact that he apparently needs you now more than ever.

Your eyes soften at the warmth he exudes, and you wonder if he really remembers who you even are—or were—to him. It’s not worth pondering over for now, however. He needs to eat.

“Another?” you ask, testing to see how willing he is to fulfill your wishes. Satoru often easily complies once you’ve expressed satisfaction in him doing so, but all of this is still so new and experimental; you never know when he might decide to switch gears.

However, still smiling, he nods, and you bring another spoonful of soup up to his lips for him to swallow. It pleases you to see him finally getting something into his stomach, and he can sense it, taking it upon himself to further your agenda and simultaneously realizing just how gratifying it is to fill his belly.

“Good,” you say, and he feels rewarded. He is crowned by your praise. Exalted. You take him to the greatest heights with the simplest of words.

You place the spoon back in the bowl and Satoru takes it in his grasp, feeding himself without quarrel while you observe. Most of his motor skills appear to be intact as far as you’ve seen despite the cognitive and behavioral changes, and if someone were to look upon him from afar, you’re fairly certain they would never know the difference. But you’re still trying to put the pieces of the puzzle together little by little, deciphering each bit of information and also determining just how deep his severe attachment to you really goes.

Why did it end up being you? Why do you suddenly seem to be the only thing that makes sense to him in this entire universe?

You can’t answer that, he can’t answer that, it’s just the way it is. Satoru doesn’t need to know why you nearly consume his every thought, he just knows that you make him happy, and that’s truly all that counts in his version of the world. He’ll chase it on instinct until death decides to take him again; he’ll tear down anything that stands in his or your way, for you alone are all that he thinks he has left to cling to. Never matter the others that show concern for him—they’re nice enough, earning a small smile or even the privilege to touch before he shakes them off and seeks you out again. It’s nothing personal. It’s simply pathological.

Leaning an elbow on the table, you turn the possibilities over in your mind as you silently watch him eat. A life has been restored, but yours has been turned upside down, and you have to figure out just exactly what you’re going to do about it. You suppose that taking baby steps ought to be the best way to make progress, but how do you make space for someone like this out of the blue? You’ll have to give it your best shot.

Satoru finishes drinking down the remaining broth of his soup, and you pose a question. “Would you like to go for a walk with me today?”

He sits the bowl down and looks over at you, eyes assessing your features and mind processing what you’ve asked. He hasn’t been out much in the days following his return, but you don’t see any reason to keep him cooped up inside if he happens to respond well to a casual outing with you. Taking him for a stroll outside seems like a decent way to test the waters.

Satoru smiles and nods, recalling memories of how your hair looked when touched by the wind. He’d be glad to accompany you outside if it meant he could see you glow in the sun, radiant and warm. The center of his universe.

“I think it’ll be nice,” you remark with a grin, an ounce or two of weight being lifted from your shoulders at the positive shift in outlook. Baby steps.

Reaching out to take your hand, Satoru squeezes it in his own to convey his agreement. It’s as if he’s trying to say, “everything is nice when I’m with you.”

#satoru gojo x reader #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #dividers by @saradika #my writing. #re: satoru gojo

[everythingne]

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚ ➛ one and two, chapter two (ls2)

logan sargeant x first daughter!reader // fc: yasmin barbieri

Forced to move in together, you and Logan slowly fall into an easy routine. It's not hard to act like you love someone when you do, even if they don't believe it, but you'll show him.

warnings/notes: a bit of low self esteem at the end, drinking and cursing, i tried to keep this as fluffy as possible. sorry for the long wait, i made this pretty long to make up for that <3

Apparently, according to your father, the best thing for you and Logan would be to move in together. Which... isn't a terrible thought process if you are in an arranged marriage, but you'd met Logan less than a week ago and now half of your stuff was being shipped overseas without as much as a question.

It felt... weirdly demeaning.

Despite the tension raising with your father, living with Logan is quite easy. He's late to bed, an early riser, your seperate rooms down the hall give you both space that's your own while leaving the kitchen and living room for moments where its okay to be together.

Plus, it makes it easier for you to fix your sleep schedule. The difference between London and Washington, d.c. isn’t that big, but it still throws you off for a few weeks.

And because of that, you don’t travel with Logan until the Spanish GP.

By then you’ve settled into life in London and planned your fashion shows and such around his schedule because it was more concrete than any schedule you'd make yourself.

Life in London was wonderful to you, because you able to keep a lower profile than in the states. It was nice to be able to take yourself out for coffee, or to go to your cycling class, or yoga, or pilates—or whatever you’re feeling, without too many cameras.

And you settle into life with Logan quickly.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, potus, and 987k others...

ynfdotus: cannot believe i let a blonde guy convince me to move from the heart of the states to a bit outside london 🩵

potus: big adventures await!

user1: shut UPPPP THIS IS SO CUTE??

user2: nah bc who convinced her.

lilymhe: yayy!!!! ur so close now!!!!! girls day.

⤷ yn.fdotus: only if @ lilyzneimer joins this time

⤷ lilyzneimer: oh babes im down 🩷

user3: wasn't she at the williams paddock for miami.... and her hug with logan after the race?? ive connected the dots.

⤷ user4: you haven't connected shit.

⤷ user3: i connected them !!

"I'm home!" Logan shouts down the hall of the flat as the door clicks shut behind him, his hand automatically reaching to lock it. You call back a greeting as you check over his meal plan notes once more to ensure you've cooked the food correctly before turning back to look at him as you turn off the burner you're using.

"You had lunch today right?" He asks as he comes around the corner and you nod softly, standing on your toes to grab some dishes out of the top of the cabinet. When your fingers miss the edge of the bowl, Logan's hand comes to your back to keep you still while he reaches up and grabs them for you, before settling them in your hands and kissing your cheek. And eyeing the dinner you're making with a bit of curiosity over your shoulder.

The quick kisses were another thing to help settle into the way you had to act for media. But honestly, they ended up being more of a habit now. But Logan would kiss anywhere but your lips, which sucked, because kissing Logan was like being shocked with electricity. It made you blush, it made your heart stutter, all you wanted was to be with him.

Logan moves back to the counter as you set down the dishes by the stove, and you turn fully to actually take him in now. He's in a hoodie and jeans, having changed after going to the gym, and you smile at him when your eyes meet, then you gasp.

"Oh! Flowers!" You exclaim as he sets down a few bags of groceries and other items you'd asked him to go run out to grab.

"I bought them for you." He smiles, genuinely real, crinkling at the corners of his eyes as you turn around to grab a spoon to get a little bit of the dish for Logan to taste before you plated it.

"Oh, what's the occasion?" You ask as you hold the spoon out to him, and he happily bites the salmon off the spoon with a content hum.

He raises his hand to his mouth and says, "There has to be an occasion? I just noticed the other flowers you have in the house are dying and these were pretty. Also, you cook this shit way better than I ever could."

You laugh out a thank you, and agree the flowers were dying as you turn to plate the food. Logan makes himself busy swapping out the flowers and getting all your little mood lights up so he doesn't have to turn the big light on when the sun finally sets. The big bay windows of your apartment letting in the last fleeting rays of golden sun, and he stands behind you for a moment to admire the way it curls on your skin.

"Hey, after dinner..." You turn, making eye contact with him and pausing at the way the golden glow lights up his eyes. The two of you just pause, sort of staring and taking in the moment before you clear your throat and you somehow manage to pull your eyes away to go set down the food.

"After dinner?" He prompts softly and you turn over your shoulder as he brushes behind you, one hand gently sliding across your back so you know he's there.

"Do you wanna walk to get ice cream? This little gelato place opened around the corner." You say softly, blinking at him with a sort of... awestruck, love filled expression. It makes his cheeks warm as he leans down to press a kiss to your hairline.

"Sure, just don't tell anyone I'm going off my meal plan."

You chuckle softly, moving to sit down next to him at the table, facing the window so you can watch the city around you moving around. Lights flickering on as the night closes in, the silence of the apartment is very soft and welcoming. Dinner is finished pretty quickly and soon you find yourself tugging on a hoodie while Logan finishes up the dishes, and then you both head out.

Walking down the busy but slightly quieter London streets, you wander towards the roadside to look at a flyer. Logan watches as you return to his side, and after a moment of walking on his left, you feel his hand gently take your wrist and bring you to the inside of the sidewalk.

You watch his face soften a little as he takes your hand in his and at a crosswalk, pops a soft kiss to the back of your hand.

And in the moment, you forget all about the gelato, all about London, all about the world around you. In the moment, it's just the warmth of his hands against yours.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, cambridgeuniversity, potus, and 912k others...

yn.fdotus: got to teach a wonderful group of sustainable fashion designers at @ cambridgeuniversity this morning. while I'm hitching a train ride to barcelona, i'm full of love for all the creatives.

my next teaching event will land me back in the states at @ SCADFASH in savannah during september ! you can book tickets at: scad.edu/yn.fdotus.visit !s

cambridgeuniversity: it was wonderful having you! see you soon!

user1: pls tell me shes going to barcelona for the gp

logansargeant: see u soon miss america :)

⤷ yn.fdotus: you too, captain america 🩵

⤷ user2: SHUT UPPPP????

Coming into the garage, you can feel the tension across the entire building. You glance to your side, taking in Logan's half the garage, before passing over with no hesitance. Dipping through some of the larger groups of workers, you find solace in the drivers rooms. Knocking twice, you hear Logan call for you to come in, and you pop open the door before shutting it behind you.

"Hey." You breathe softly and Logan smiles as he tugs his sleeves on, coming over to press a kiss to your cheek, "good luck out there."

After a few disappointing races, you knew Logan wanted nothing more than to finally smoke out his competition. And he'd been qualifying better and better, but was having an almost George Russel level weekend luck. You figured he might be the next Mr. Saturday.

You'd missed the past two days, busy with your own work, and you note how Logan is clearly at much more ease now that you're by his side.

"Thanks, baby." He murmurs softly, pulling you into a tight hug. You reciprocate without hesitance, pressing a soft kiss to his cheek as you do. But theres something stiff that makes you step back, taking his head in your hands and pressing your foreheads together.

"What's a matter?" You hum, rubbing your thumbs under his eyes and hoping and he'll tell you whats up with him. Finally, he sighs and crumbles into your hold.

"I didn't tell you on the phone," Logan murmurs, closing his eyes as he leans into your touch, "I was having steering issues yesterday, they haven't been able to figure out the source of it."

You hum softly, leaning down to peck his nose before settling your foreheads together again, "how bad was it?"

"Not the worst I've dealt with, just some understeering."

"I don't know much about these cars, only what you've babbled at me before," You start with, earning a curious look from Logan as he opens his eyes, "but could it have something to do with your like... what is it, downforce? Isn't understeer or whatever affected by that? Like DRS?"

Logan blinks, then gasps, capturing your lips quickly before whispering, "you're a genius, I didn't even think of that."

And he drags you with him into the garage as he goes to ask about a million questions about his car, you're just happy to tag along with a bounce to your step and your hands intertwined. Alex and Lily are also in the main garage area, making some sort of Tik Tok together, and you suction to Logan's side as he speaks with his engineers.

The answer ends up being something with--not the rear wing but the front wing, or at least they find another issue that might kinda fix the steering issues with some shit like downforce or something... so you count it as a success.

Logan happily pops a kiss to your cheek in thanks as his head engineer gives you a fist bump for thinking of something they'd overlooked, you say its a lot like fashion, how one wrong stitch can ruin a whole dress.

Alex goes on to call you Elle Woods, and you feel like a nickname is cementing in Williams.

Logan goes on to place P6, his highest ranking of the season, which you determine calls for getting absolutely fucked up at the club. Your plan is surprisingly well accepted by the team, and you rent out a little back private room of some club blasting songs from any and everywhere as you drag Lily with you onto the dancefloor.

You're not sure how long you're out there before Logan and Alex are pulling you both back to reality, settling you at the back corner of the bar where you can watch Lando and Oscar betting over something Max and Charles are doing a few feet away. George trying to get Alex to try some sort of liquor, and Fernando chipping in a few bucks to the bet that Alex will like it.

"How much water have you both had?" Logan asks, a beer in hand as he leans on the bar behind you.

"I had two glasses, I think?" Lily says, "I can feel I need more though."

"I'll need more water." You smile, trying to hide the fact you don't remember if you've had water at all tonight. Logan nods, and whisks off to where Yuki has flagged a bartender down.

"You two are so cute." Lily gushes once Logan's out of earshot. Alex coming to stand beside her as he now nurses whatever liquor George was trying to get him to try in an Old Fashioned glass.

"I would've never expected the First Daughter to be dating a dude from Florida." Alex deadpans, offering Lily a sip of his drink, and she's also surprised by how good the drink is.

You laugh softly, tequila on your tongue letting the truth slip, "It's a Public Relations thing."

"What?!" Alex gasps and Lily nearly spits out her second sip of Alex's drink.

"Wait, seriously?!" Lily echoes, "But how? You two are so perfect!"

"And Logan's a shit actor." Alex adds with a tiny laugh. You feel an arm slide around you, and peek to see Logan as he hands Lily a water bottle, and then hands you one as well.

"Well," Logan chimes, "It's more of a like... arranged marriage kinda deal, rather than PR."

"You got in an arranged marriage? What, are you mormon?!"

"Mormon's don't do arranged marriages actually." You hum into your bottle before taking a sip, "And it's because of my father. He thinks, because my brother was a big party guy in his mid-twenties, that I'm gonna be the same way. Which is stupid, because yeah, I'll go and get drunk, but I won't blackout and flirt with a professor."

"Did your brother do that?" Lily snorts as you nod with a loud sigh, leaning into Logan.

"So, we're arranged." You shrug, "Doesn't mean I can't still like the guy. My parents were arranged too, and they literally are sickeningly in love with each other."

"Can vouch for that." Logan laughs softly as you smile up at him and take another big gulp of your water bottle. With Alex and Lily now in on the secret, you feel a bit more at ease, not having to play anything up as much with them.

But the night drags on far longer than it should, with Logan's arm around your shoulders between the hours when the clubgets too busy to really move.

The drivers all plan their escapes around three in the morning, and it's sobering for you to have to literally lean on Logan so you don't fall and die in the halls as you make it back to your hotel room.

"Christ. I didn't know you were worse of a lightweight than me." Logan hoists you up, one arm secure around your waist so you stay cemented to his side as he fiddles with the key to unlock the door. As you both get in, he helps you settle on the bed, taking off your heels for you and letting you curl up in one of the throe blankets you'd brought. He stands, moving back from you to the dresser with a soft yawn.

"Lo, baby," You hum softly and he turns, nodding as you reach out to him.

"It's okay, darling," He says softly, moving back over to kiss your forehead as you cling to his arm, "I'm just gonna get changed and grab you something to wear that isn't... a mini dress."

"Okay." You whisper, tired from the long night, and release him as much as you don't want to. Logan works around you for a moment, getting himself ready for bed before he leans down in front of you and helps you to your feet.

"C'mon. Let's get you ready for bed before you knock out."

Logan takes your hands as he leads you to the bathroom, sitting you on the toilet while he roots through your bag. You clear up which is which product, what order, and how to use them.

Logan takes the oil cleanser, pouring a little bit out and applying it to your face. The only spot he has you do is by your eyes, before he uses a wet rag to wipe it off. While he works you keep trying to wrap your arms around him.

He laughs softly, letting you cling to his side as he tries--bless him, to apply another cleanser to your face to properly clean your face now. Eventually, and after a bit of fighting with you to let go of his torso, he manages to get all of your makeup cleaned off, and skin... semi-properly washed.

"C'mon, pretty girl," he croons softly, brushing a hand across your jaw to tilt your head to face him, "Let's get you in bed, yeah?"

And even though the hotel has two beds, you coax Logan to cuddle with you in your drunk state. And you don't mind being wrapped up by his warm arms when you wake the next morning.

yn.fdotus

liked by logansargeant, alexalbon, oscarpiastri, and 978k others...

yn.fdotus: so. about last night... i don't remember much after the twentieth tequila shot... <3

logansargeant: its ok you have great dance skills

oscarpiastri: thanks for letting me win 20 in that bet

yn.fdotus: oscar. ur on thin ice.

user1: U WENT CLUBBING W THE DRIVERS???

lilymhe: my favorite lightweight <3

After Barcelona, the next race you go to is Silverstone. You've been biting your nails for weeks about this, the upgrades Williams is planning on bringing don't seem to be very... solidified. Logan tries his hardest to seem confident, but it's clear he's more worried than you are.

You do the track walk in Barcelona with Williams, idly tagging along last moment with Lily. It's more for PR, as the cameras snap photos of the four of you (Alex, Logan, Lily, and yourself) dicking around as you walk.

But theres a damper to the mood.

Sure, the weight problems in the Williams car is 'fixed' but it seems like something was taken away... something helpful.

You and Lily settle in the little watch area in the garage, you pulling out your laptop to get some emails sent out before the race, while Lily posts something on her Instagram.

Logan appears with his helmet on, wrapping an arm around you and saying, "Any last words before I get in the car?"

You look over, and pop a kiss to the little part of his helmet covering his lips--leaving a little smudge of lipstick behind as you knock three times on the side of his helmet, "Don't worry about the upgrades. You'll be fine, Lo."

"Thanks, baby." He almost grumbles, eyes squishing from his smile under the helmet. You send him on his way, and Alex scoffs from besides you where Lily is fixing his glove.

"I still don't get how you two claim you're 'just arranged.' Like, I just watched a cute couple moment." He laments, making Lily laugh as she leans back on the couch next to you.

"I'm just a great actress," You shrug, but can't deny the heat that rushes to your cheeks. You and Logan had an undeniable spark, and you acted way too romantic to be platonic even behind closed doors. But you had always just chalked it up to being for the bit, being for the media.

But... had you even done any of this for the media?

Alex bids farewell and you, with a bit of stammer and a blushing face, retire to Logan's drivers room. It's just practice today, so you find your able to get somewhat comfy, turning on the TV to show you highlights as you work in quiet solitude.

You're not sure when you doze off, but when you come back, theres something plush under your head. Blinking, you look up to see Logan, idly scrolling on his phone... with your head on his lap. Your arms are wrapped around one of his legs like you'd snuggled in, and he's thrown his jacket over your legs.

So you close your eyes and move to wrap your arms around his waist instead, and he chuffs out a soft laugh, murmuring, "c'mon, baby."

He hoists you up as he slides down to lay on his side, shifting until he's inna comfortable position. Then he slowly shifts you back into place, your head coming to his lay on his bicep as you bink your eyes open.

"Hi, sleepy." He whispers to you, "Don't worry, I saved your email drafts before shutting your laptop."

"How was practice?" You whisper and he shrugs, kissing your temple as you wrap your arm around his waist and slot your knee between his as usual. Or, your new usual since Silverstone.

"P10. Not terrible." He hums, "you were right about the adjustments. I just wasn't used to the car yet, it made me lag behind."

"You'll do better tomorrow." You murmur through a yawn and Logan draws you into his chest a bit more, firm arm around your shoulder as he lifts his chin to tuck your head under it.

"We have a bit to nap, get some rest." He whispers and you hum back a yes, the warmth of your arranged husband and the soft whir of the world outside pulling you into another nap.

You find later that night that Logan's being overly self-ciritical once again. You do all you can to coax him to at least apathy, but lay awake with his head on your chest (the hotel room now with one bed), thinking.

The next day you sneak down to a corner store to buy a tiny notebook, tape, and glitter pens, and employ both Alex and Benny to help you with your task.

You scrawl the notebook full of reassurances, word even getting to engineers, media workers, analysts, who all take turns writing little notes for Logan (and some for Alex you give to Lily)

And then you spend the time Benny distracts Logan with training to sprinkle them around his drivers room and gear. A tiny smile on your face as the stupid little idea tickles you so much. Even writing one and taping it to his water bottle.

You manage to miss Logan before qualifying, but he drives exceptionally well and ends in Q2. And when he comes back, you have a cold water bottle in hand, something Benny had started giving you to encourage Logan to drink more water.

Cameras follow him into the garage, but cut before he gets to you. His helmet is long since discarded as he leans down to peck your cheek in thanks for the water, taking a few gulps as you ask about the race.

"The race was good, it was... I felt more confident with the car." He swallows another sip of water, "I think we have a good chance tomorrow. Must be thanks to your notes."

You beam when he says that, his hand firm on your back as he holds you close. There's an air around you both for a moment, and you wish the feeling could stay forever.

If only.

He ends up getting track limits on his qualifying run, bumping him back on the starting grid by a hefty amount. You literally cannot determine where he breaks limits, but even with Williams challenging it, the penalty stays. Logan tries to brush it off, to pretend it doesn't hurt him, but you can see the stress in his eyes.

Another night you fall asleep thinking. But other than the notes you already placed, you didn't have any more ideas.

And then he places out of points when Alex snags a podium, in a stroke of luck and a safety car. Logan doesn't take the cold water you offer him, barely greeting you as he slips by to his drivers room, and you try not to feel distraught.

Benny gives him space, as does everyone else, so you follow suit and walk to the paddocks. Which is where you and Logan are finally reunited after the race.

"Hey, baby." You murmur as he walks over, slumping into your hands as you let his face be molded by their grasp, "You drove well."

"I couldn't get around Lewis." Logan murmurs in complaint, and you can feel the pant up anger starting to burn in his cheeks, "if I hadn't been such a fucking dumbass."

"Hey." you chastise, squishing his face before he pulls himself away, "You're not a dumbass, you had a shitty penalty. Lewis is a really good driver, sometimes it's hard--"

"But I can be better." Logan interrupts you, and you go to speak again before he says, "You deserve better."

"What the hell are you talking about? Deserve better?" You ask, stepping towards Logan as he tries to retreat from you.

Logan groans, turning back sharp enough you step back to avoid his shoulder colliding with your outstretched hand. Gritting his teeth, he hisses out, "You can back out of this little arranged thing, stop being so cutesy and so kind and so loving to me, because I don't deserve it. You deserve someone who wins. Because you're so fucking amazing, and I'm just... whatever the hell this is."

You are genuinely shell shocked, but Logan just continues before you squeak out a very soft,

"But I love you. Like I... I genuinely do."

And then Logan goes to backtrack, claiming you're lying and that there no way you actually do. You watch him sputter, scraping for excuses and reasons you're lying and theres only one idea that pops in your mind. Damn the cameras, damn the people around you.

"I am hard to love and you're just gonna hurt yourself trying--" Logan says as you cup his jaw before you press up on your toes enough to lock your lips to his. There's a moment of hesitation before his arm slides around your waist as he breaks to reconnect you properly.

And when you pull back, your cheeks burn as you whisper, "I do love you. And I'd crawl with bleeding knees and palms for years if it meant one day, one day, I can make you see yourself the way I do."

Logan is just staring and you stammer again, "Sorry, was that too much?"

"No." He answers quick, "No, that was what I needed. Do it again."

And you laugh, tossing your arms around his neck to pull him into a proper kiss this time. The scattering of camera flashes like the fireworks you feel in your gut.

yn.fdotus

liked by alexalbon, flotus, williamsracing, and 998k others...

yn.fdotus: all because I really like this boy 🩵

tagged: logansargeant

oscarpiastri: finally you guys have the guts to be public

⤷ alexalbon: now everyone can see how disgustingly in love they are

⤷ yn.fdotus: oh you are one to talk, alex.

flotus: so cute !!

user1: HOW DID LOGAN PULL HER?

⤷ yn.fdotus: @ logansargeant idk how did you?

⤷ logansargeant: my american charm obviously

user2: sobbing. my parents.

taglist (thank you all so much <3!!)

@stinkyjax @kroissant-content @samantha-chicago @jpg3 @mickf1loverf2too

@nixisracing @h34rts4maisey @heartsfromtaeyong @a-beaverhausen

@purplephantomwolf @insanedeathwish @llando4norris @formulaonebuff

@vicurious28 @lady1505 @lozzamez3 @kqliie @barbsschumacher

#f1 fanfic #f1 smau #f1 x reader #formula one fanfiction #formula one fic #logan sargeant x reader #logan sargeant fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fic #formula one fanfic #formula 1 fanfic #logan sargeant x you #logan sargeant x y/n #ls2 fanfiction #ls2 x you #ls2 fanfic #ls2 fic #ls2 x reader

[77dekiru]

MHA 423: Breakdown + Speculation

(MANGA SPOILERS.)

I would like to start this off by saying that there was a lot set up with the OFA realm that never got used (if this is the true conclusion.)

Nothing further came from Katsuki entering the OFA realm. (I think that it’s obvious that Katsuki came back being able to tap into OFA, but that was never actually confirmed.)

Nothing came from Toshinori and his vestige syncing...

Nothing came from Star’s vestige reappearing. (Star originally gave up her chance to kill Tomura/AFO, because she saw Tenko still inside the vestige realm… this is all very interesting timing.)

“Master… I found a sad child. He’s right there.”

(This literally happened only 10 chapters ago. It’s not like these were older events that were suddenly written out as being relevant.)

All of this was done for a purpose, all foreshadowing for something more. It would be horrifically bad writing if quite literally nothing came from it.

How Tenko Will Survive:

“I have no doubt All For One was absorbed and stopped existing.”

Izuku questioned how AFO was able to come back, even stressing how he was sure that AFO had been fully absorbed (this literally happened 2 chapters ago…) and ceased to exist.

All For One isn’t the only character this has happened to either!!

Yoichi (+ the other vestiges) came back as well. AFO was certain that Yoichi’s vestige had been shattered and destroyed.

“How dare you destroy my One For All… My Yoichi…”

“When I heard the sound of Yoichi being shattered to pieces… my whole world turned grey.”

Even Star’s vestige reappearing is an example of this happening… the fact that we have gotten no explanation for any of this is so weird.

There is definitely something more going on here that hasn’t been revealed yet.

((I personally think that this is gearing up for All For One (quirk) reaching the point of singularity… OFA has already reached that point, but AFO has not. I feel like it’s somewhat inevitable, imo.))

I can see Tomura’s “soul” (his sense of self, IMO) being saved by whatever had originally brought back the other vestiges, and his body being saved by the Overhaul quirk he possesses.

Tomura believes that his only purpose (the reason that he was even born) is to destroy. He literally mourns the fact that he wasn’t able to destroy Izuku’s arms, not because it was something that he enjoyed, but because destruction is the only thing that Tomura believes he’s capable of…

Overhaul gives Tomura the ability to CREATE and not just destroy. Tomura didn’t even have a chance to process the idea that he could possibly do that. It didn’t even seem to register for him at all.

I think that Tomura referring to himself (“Shigaraki Tomura”) in quotations is gearing up for a “death of Shigaraki Tomura, rebirth of Shimura Tenko” type deal.

I also want to add that we never actually saw Izuku use One For All on Tomura.

We didn’t see Tomura’s body cease to exist, we saw his vestige be destroyed.

Izuku and Tomura do not actually need to be near each other in person to interact within the vestige realm!! (I truly wouldn’t be surprised if some Kurogiri portal fuckery is going on here as well.)

Speculation:

Alright. I’m trying not to be delusional about this, but there was definitely something off about this chapter. Not in a poorly written way, but in a “there is some fuckery going on here” type way.

This seemed like a purposefully manufactured “end” to One For All and All For One… A performance more than anything. (This could be the result of a rushed ending, but I’m going to be optimistic about all of this.) Izuku referring to All Might as “the Eighth” was so odd.

The scene of AFO speaking to Yoichi’s “embers” was also very strange to me. The entire conversation between Yoichi and AFO felt off, as if Yoichi was just a distraction. Also the fact that all of the vestiges were able to hold their full forms, except for Yoichi is such a red flag… (Even AFO’s vestige was able to revert back to its pre-injured self.) Especially since Izuku had held onto OFA the most out of all of the past users quirks… OFA is special to Izuku, not for its power but because it had been a gift from All Might.

Izuku is not incapable of being selfish.

I can definitely see him trying to hold onto something from One For All…

The reason that AFO’s “soul” was finally shattered is that the idea that Yoichi was truly gone left him with nothing else… AFO no longer cared about ruling over others, finding it pointless without him.

If there is even the smallest bit of OFA left, I can very much see AFO coming back again (😭) I genuinely think that he wouldn’t give up if there was even an ember of Yoichi left…

All For One definitely will not be getting any sort of redemption by the end of the series, but I do think that he will possibly get some sort of closure for Yoichi's death... which will be what finally stops the cycle.

[End of meta, beginning of rant:]

If there is nothing more after this, that was probably the worst conclusion to a plot line that we have ever had in the entire series.

I am of the firm belief that what happened this chapter would've been fine (minus, Tomura's possible conclusion) if it had been spaced out between even 2-3 chapters instead of a single one. It felt rushed and this "climax" fell flat.

I don’t think that Tenko is dead (or at least will stay dead) but the idea that that was the conclusion of the OFA/AFO plotline is making me feel insane.

There is so much important shit that still needs to be resolved, and the idea that it's gonna happen AFTER the climax in some post-war bullshit is also making me feel just a little bit crazy. ngl.

It's all just gonna feel so anticlimactic. Unless something changes drastically in the next chapter, I just know the ending will be disappointing on some level if things stay as they currently are…

(Even if this is not the conclusion of the OFA/AFO plotline, this chapter could do so much possible damage if things are not handled properly, I really don’t know if whatever is being planned next could even fully salvage it…)

Izuku’s actions:

I’ll be honest, I’m not particularly surprised with how Izuku acted this chapter. His view of Tomura has always been flawed, and that had been shown time and time again throughout this battle…

(I’m working on a longer post about this. It’s been something that I have kept to myself for a while now, and I think now is a good time to post my thoughts on it.)

Izuku never wanted to save Shigaraki Tomura, he wanted to save Shimura Tenko.

I think that this chapter perfectly displayed that particular flaw to readers… I really don’t think that this is the result of poor writing, but was a flaw purposefully given to Izuku.

(A flaw that he has yet to overcome… I do hope that this will be something that is resolved by the end of the series.)

The Fandom Response:

I’m seeing a lot of people say things like “Tenko can rest now.” or “Well, I guess Tenko’s heart was saved in the end.” when that is simply not true.

Tomura did not have any sort of revelation about AFO’s grooming. He still believed that he was born to destroy, that did not change in the slightest.

Tomura did not get any closure for the death of his family. He practically learns that he and his family were doomed from the start, and then just accepted it.

Tomura did not die “happy” or even at peace.

The idea that the only way for Tomura to be stopped was for him to be killed is just simply not true. He literally gave up a few chapters prior. It’s not like he was “too far gone” or on a rampage and needed to be put down.

…I have a lot more thoughts on this chapter that I won’t be sharing (yet) but I just can’t accept that it ends there. I cannot accept the idea that the main plotline of the series was so horrifically fumbled after all this time.

If Tomura truly died like that, it quite literally threw out 5+ years of development.

Tomura was humanized over and over again. For nothing?

It all just seems very… cruel.

#mha #my hero academia #mha spoilers #mha 423 #bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha spoilers #bnha 423 #midoriya izuku #shigaraki tomura #all for one #meta #long post #rant #I have been sorta tweaking out since the chapter leaks originally dropped but I have been trying to be level headed about everything… #so here are my overall thoughts… I will be making a few other posts explaining myself further at some point as well…

[lazywrites]

Heyaaa i have a request of a Kurt x reader about a reader who's kind of a punk but has a soft spot for him

You are one lucky anon, i had something like that in the drafts already, she's not a punk, she's a total villain but still.

Nemesis

Kurt wagner x fem!reader (3.5k) Meet cute, reader is a villain

You were not looking for any forgiveness or any friends, your only purpose in Genosha was rebuilding and serving your fellow mutants, few are brave enough to look you in the eye, until one man takes the day to challenge you.

The budding region of genosha was still a work in progress, after the X-men and their lot left the island it was up to all the mutants on the region to simply find their own way to rebuild and organize as always, you came to the island only after you were sure they had left, no need to be getting caught up on their affairs, they would not be pleased with your presence around them either.

You relationship with the X-men and humans in general was shaky to say the least, it was very clear to you that after the last battle you had fought alongside Magneto, and against them no less, you would not be welcomed with open arms.

You had been severely disappointed in both Magnus and Xavier after the whole fiasco involving asteroid M, it was utterly ridiculous letting Magneto simply rope you into helping raise the asteroid only for him to drop it back into the sea anyways, it seemed like there was no safe place for mutants after that, not that you would have been welcomed by anyone, you were not even welcome in Genosha for a while until you proved that your gift would be suitable for rebuilding and moving the structures as the appointed leaders desired.

More than a normal outcast, you were labeled a terrorist and feared even by other mutants for simply refusing to beg and plead for humanity’s sympathy, if fighting for the liberation of your people was terrorism the sure, terrorist, villain, it doesn’t matter.

There was no denying your reputation was intimidading, but your control over gravity was the building crew’s best asset if they wished to finish this rail link system by the end of the week, you stood above the tunnel you were helping the workers to dig, right at the Apex of a crane and far away from the reach of anyone else, you looked down at the work site and tried to visualize what it would look like in a few hours, perhaps you could find a way to speed up the process even more. But then, you’d have to go down and speak to those pesky engineers, no matter, best to just stick to the outline they gave you, that’s what you were thinking until a peculiar noise sounded behind you.

You turn back only to see some kind of dark cloud, slowly dissipating, and there stood a stranger grasping onto the metal bars to keep steady, perhaps he hadn’t considered the height before impulsively coming up to talk to you, he steadies himself with both hands and feet and lifts his head to stare up at you with intense yellow eyes.

“Oh my, oh, this is high, Mein Gott, i did not consider the Wind either” Its not that you were startled by him in any way, but the way he came up so high only to speak to you was slightly intimidating if you had to admit, and you were not exactly in the mood to talk, so taking a step back was only natural.

It would have been a bad move if it were anyone else, but still you let yourself fall back a little, if only to teach this nosy stranger a little lesson.

He lunges foward while still trying to keep himself steady in the bars “No, no no, hold on, be careful my friend” He stops reaching and waving at you once he realizes you feet are not touching the bars at all, you had been floating all along “Oh, that’s good, umm...” He bends over again to get a grip on the bars.

“And you are?” You arch your eyebrow and speak in a rushed tone, wanting to shoo him away as fast as possible so you can go back to contemplating the massive tunnels you had yet to help dig on the ground.

He steadies himself once more, the Wind is blowing particularly Strong today “Kurt Wagner, at your service, you are very famous around here” that sure surprises you, you’ll admit.

 “Oh, am i now?”

After many years playing the villain you could confidently say you were never nervous around anyone, but his intense and bright eyes felt like they were studying your every expression, practically glued to your face since the first moment you locked eyes with this man, this time it takes a conscious effort not to shy away.

“Yes, i’ve heard all sorts of things, that you were involved in most of the construction around here, truly impressive” it’s getting harder and harder not to break away from his stare, you try to match it’s intensity, even if his eyes hold no malice there is no way for you to know about his intentions, he continues.

“I’ve just joined the council” he finally breaks the eye contact and you hold back a sigh of relief “Was surprised then, when they spoke of you, how you helped build the very room they were standing on”

“so?”

He smiles up at you, you have to admit he has an endearing smile, a wholesome sort for sure, definely not Hellfire club, you could tell they wouldn’t hire someone like him to try and recruit you.

“Haha” His laugh is not humorous, its more awkward than anything, now it seems that your stare is burning a whole through him “I simply wanted to see if for myself, from what i had known of you before this is unexpected, miss Nemesis.” So he even knows your alias, that earns him a smirk from you.

“Let me guess, you’re with the X-men?” his eyes widen just a fraction “Here to arrest me, hero?” You can see him trying to keep up the smile but now it’s more awkward than anything, you enjoy seeing him squirm.

His tail, which was mostly curved down behind his back to aid with balance swishes back and fourth in a gesture you can only assume is slightly nervous and he nods his head enough for you to understand. But you don’t exactly feel like fighting anyone especially at this time of the day “Don’t worry, i am here simply to contribute.”

He shakes off the awkward air pretty well, but the tail still betrays that he is nervous around you “Well, i simply wanted to see for myself, don’t worry, i am not so judgmental.” He tilts his head to think for a moment “Still i must say my friend, this is a very unsafe place to work, perhaps we can chat somewhere else?”

For the first time in this day, perhaps in the whole month, you try to be nice to someone you’re talking to, making an effort to smile down at Kurt, and he smiles back “Fine, i’ll get you down”

You know that the man has at the very least some very good mobility and could get himself down even if it took some time, but he’s one of the X-men it seems, and if you’re not going to fight him you will at least mess with him a little, before he can properly answer you fly towards him and wrap both of your arms around his torso “Ready?” you say it right next to his pointy ear and feel his body shudder, it seems cruel but making people squirm is your favorite pastime.

“Ah, Miss Nemesis i could get us down as well, you-“ you cut him off before he can suggest anything “Nonsense, i won’t let you fall, hero.” He squirms again in your embrace “and a member of the council deserves preferential treatment, yes?”

And then you fall, you both fall.

But of course you can fly, no sane person would climb up 95 meters without being able to fly, hopefully Kurt also had that notion in his head.

You expected him to be screaming and clinging onto you terrified like the other poor souls you have subjected to this before, but he seems to be enjoying himself, much to your surprise he even lets go of your back to feel the Wind in his hand and smiles wide at you, you can’t help but smile with him, but only for a moment, you have an image to mantain.

Before you can both reach the floor by a few meters or so you gently float down and nudge him towards the ground so he can step down first, he’s still chuckling softly under his breath when he looks up at you “While i disagree that council members should receive better treatment, i can’t truly say that it isn’t fun.” And that earns him another smirk from you.

“So, now that things are as you desired, will you tell me what you really want, Mr.Wagner?”

He’s awkward again, seems not even a moment of levity is enough to loosen his tongue, he clears his throat and runs a hand through his now disheveled hair, which seems to be perpetually in shadow.

“Ah, yes, i am here for the communities of Faith and thought to invite you, you know...” You don’t know, while you had a few encounters with religion, Human religion, you were never faithful or pious and in the times you’ve tried to be, it never ended well for you. That piques your curiosity more than anything he’s said or done so far, you and Faith in the same phrase.

“Invite me where?” You sharply question, to you it seems like he’s going to turn around and mock you at any moment, and you ready yourself for it.

“To our first gathering i hope, it might seem strange to you my friend but your work is greatly appreciated by, well, by most of us here.” and as angry as you’d like to be, as much as you thought you would have to threaten to crush his head you can’t bring himself to, that endearing fanged smile is back on his face and his eyes are once again burning a whole through you.

“And you want me join your sermon or something?” you scoff at him

“Precisely!”

“wait, are you the actual priest?” You arch your eyebrow, the sermon comment was more ironic than anything.

“Well, in certain ways, its more complicated than Worth explaining my friend.” You can tell that your curiosity is contributing to his expectation, he really seems to want you to go for some reason, you try to think of a way to shut him down without being so rough.

“Well that won’t work, joining in with a crowd of pious fools won’t be enough to get me into heaven, hero.”

He raises his head even more and looks you right in the eye, his smile is now tight lipped as if in defiance of you. “The only fools are the ones unwilling to listen miss Nemesis, anyone can be redeemed, they only have to work for it.” And you know he is talking about you.

“Now i know what you will try to say, but you have always cared for your people haven’t you?”

That softens you somewhat, few truly acknowledge all you’ve done for mutantkind, save for perhaps Magneto, and that is why you were willing to aid him in his schemes, even if they rarely pay off.

“I have? I-“He interrupts you once more.

“So you will see, that all the hard work you’ve put in this city is paying off, we’ll meet on that empty building right beside the fountain, it would be great if you... you know” And you sincerely consider it, perhaps it would not be so bad, if only to see this strange man again.

“At 8PM, you’ll know it when you see it.”

“A little late isn’t it?” You question, only to divert his attention from the fact you don’t have anything clever to say.

“It’s the villain special” he narrows his eyes and his smile turns smug after saying that, and then he’s gone in a purple cloud that looks surprisingly beautiful, but with a somewhat unpleasant smell, leaving you stunned.

What a little shit.

You do end up going, and not going at the same time. The rail link takes so much work that when you reach the fountain his ‘sermon’ is almost over.

From what you’ve deduced it was mostly an introduction from him as the new neighbourhood friend or something, you recognize one of the buildings you’ve helped lay the foundation to, well lit with candles and full of pious fools just like you had imagined. You wouldn’t dare going in, with your current uniform that made you look intimidating and powerful now dirty and opaque from all the soot you had to raise up, this was a hard day of work, a few others passing by the fountain stop to look at you as you float down and approach one of the building’s windows.

You press your hands against the glass and peer inside, there are so many different mutants in there, all seem to be engaging in friendly conversations with one another, they seem at Peace, it’s... curious.

Kurt is there too, surrounded by people, they seem to be paying attention to what he’s saying, every word, just like you did earlier today when he called you a fool, he seems to truly have a way with words. The weight of the day’s work seems to finally catch up to you and you decide to give in and finally sit, leaning your back against the window until you are under it sitting against the wall, and for that moment you understand the fools inside, the athmosphere is peaceful and it makes you almost drowsy.

You close your eyes and listen to the gentle murmurs inside until you lose track of time. When you finally come to they are all walking out, or were, the first few that have walked out stop dead in their tracks to point at you and whisper among themselves “Is that Nemesis?” ,”i had no idea people like her even believe in God.”, “Don’t say it like that, she’s done a lot of good.” “Done a lot of bad too”.

Even under their scrutiny you don’t bend, better to just lift your head and look them in the eyes fearless as always. You built the sidewalk and you’ll sleep on it if you want Dammit, that is until Kurt comes out.

“And Meine Freunde you all can come talk to me any time and-“ he cuts himself off when realizing no one is paying attention to him “Oh” he looks at you with wide eyes, as if he had forgotten he asked you to come, or was surprised you did.

Perhaps its all the work but you find that at that moment his stare is almost unbearable, the longer he stands and looks at you with all the others the worse you feel, this was definely a mistake, should you have simply strolled in as you would any other place? Or maybe you shouldn’t have come at all.

This kind of place, these kind of people, they’re not for you. So you take off and fly away

And away, until you can no longer see the glow of the candles, you land at a random rooftop next to a clearing and face the city, the city you helped build, the same city that wouldn’t really accept you, maybe if you had been more outspoken they’d understand where you’re coming from, but there are some things you will always be unable to change, you sit at the edge and stare for a few minutes.

That same pesky noise and smell from earlier today flood your senses, and you simply sigh.

“Come to get me down like i’m a cat in a tree?”

“If anything, you were the one getting me down from high places, Meine Liebe.” And you know exactly what he just called you, when you risk a glance at him he almost blends in with the night sky except for the eyes, and he sits down at the edge with you.

“I must admit, you are pretty good at your job, they seemed happy.” You don’t look at him anymore, you just say it and look down at your muddy boots.

“My-Uh, Thank you, i thought you weren’t there, thought that perhaps my finishing line wasn’t very enticing to you.”

You almost laugh at that.

“No, it was exactly when i was sold, maybe start with that next time” You can tell that he’s turned to look at you by the faint yellow glow his eyes emit, he’s staring again, what’s with him and your face?

“So...”

“So?”

“Why didn’t you come in?” He asks like it would have been the easiest thing in the world and you just have to scoff at that again.

“That would have been something, should i have let you baptize me as well?” as much as you would hate to admit it out loud, you do enjoy the back and fourth with him, even if its not the most interesting conversation you two could be having.

He’s still just staring at you, waiting for the confession as if you presence at his little event had been a promise, you are not a pious woman and have never been, you don’t need forgiveness.

Never asked for it.

“You heard them, that sort of thing is not for me, this is the path i’ve taken in my life, i will not lament now.” You open your eyes after just realizing you had closed them “it was nice, seeing them all together, back in my brotherhood times i heard so many complaints, about how they didn’t fit in, how the humans would just-“acknowledging this leaves a bitter taste in your mouth, and it’s not your place to complain anymore, that was a long time ago “I don’t know, treat us like we’re the demons.”

You can feel the faint glow of his eyes pointed somewhere else, so now it’s your turn to look at him, and his turn to face his feet “They’d stare at me too” and you can imagine that, in your eyes he’s incredibly handsome but to a human? They have no taste anyway.

“And you managed to forgive them?” He looks up again, now you’re both face to face.

“Who?”

“Humans, you’re one of the ‘good’ guys after all” and he smiles at you once again, when you look for long enough you find that his smile is almost catlike in a way you cannot yet define. “They must have been hard on you”

“Ah, that they were” he pauses for a moment “Judge not, and you will not be judged, condemn not, and you will not be condemned, forgive, and you will be forgiven.”

He’s managed to soften your heart for the second time this day.

“So, it’s their loss i guess” you sigh and continue “I can’t say i have much forgiveness in my heart for them”

“Are you open to it?” And you sigh again, not knowing if it’s because of him or not.

“Someday i might be, i have a reputation to keep up with you know” And he’s still smiling at you even now, his face is so endearing it makes your lips quirk up as well.

“I’m getting the impression your reputation is changing, at least around this city, miss Nemesis.”

“It sure will change if i keep sleeping on sidewalks and attending sermons” Now you start feeling playful, swinging your legs back and fourth in the air “How did you find me anyway?”

He leans back and reaches for something behind him, smiling at you with his fangs in full display, almost childlike and shows you a pair of binoculars, You simply scoff and turn away from him “unbelievable.” and again for good measure "ridiculous."

“It was quite difficult to keep up with you as well, Nemesis.”

“Y/N.” your turn to him once again

“Huh, y-yes, miss Y/N.” His eyes have widened again making the light even more intense right on you, they seem like two lanterns in the night.

“Can’t have you just calling me that all the time, it’s losing the edge, you know.”

You try and look up at the stars but his eyes are still on you, distracting you, making you nervous.

“And i quite prefer your real name, it suits you much better if you ask me” He seems to be very pleased just from learning something that simple, maybe he thinks he’s fixing you, you’ll let him dream for now.

“Will you be there next time?” he questions

“Nemesis won’t, but maybe Y/N will.” He laughs at that, more from contentment than amusement.

“I’ll be waiting at the door, we should definely get down, i think someone lives up here, meine liebe.” You shouldn’t let him get away with it, usually you’d threaten any random man who tried to refer to you like that, but he is far from ordinary or random.

“What? You want me to fly you down again?” You ask, not really expecting him to agree.

“Yes!”

You turn towards him and let your face betray that you are somewhat bewildered, he’s looking at you like your childhood puppy when you offered it a walk. Logically he only came up there to 'comfort you' at least in his mind, you knew it wasn't like that, but it would be of no use ruining the moment for him.

“I-You-Ugh, fine, I guess you are up here for me after all” and you stand up, waiting for him to follow you, you float upwards and lower your hand for him.

He grasps your hand firmly, his hand almost fully encompassing yours, and it is also surprisingly warm, must be the chill of the night air.

You think.

I'll definely write more villain reader, if anyone has any headcanon requests for a villain with Kurt i'm all ears.

#kurt wagner x reader #nightcrawler x reader #x men x reader #x men headcannons #nightcrawler #Lazy writes #marvel x reader

[handweavers]

i have come such a long way with my social anxiety/phobia like i cannot stress enough how bad it used to be, when I was 10-15 i couldn't leave my bed let alone my house because the thought of being seen by people and interacting with them would cause severe panic attacks . couldn't talk in public could barely talk in private couldn't be witnessed would literally sleep during the day and stay up all night just because i couldn't bear being awake when other people were because interacting with others gave me such bad panic attacks (and it wasn't because my family was abusive, but it was worse when i was around my abusive father to the point where i physically could not move or speak because i was so scared) and i haven't been that bad in a very long time. but i never recovered from spending so many years essentially in isolation and that deep anxiety and fear will never truly leave me, and it sneaks up on me still in ways that literally ruin my life

and it's not even due to like harmful thought processes anymore or whatever CBT stuff, i dealt with all of that back then, it's solely a physical reaction now and it still gets me sometimes so badly like full blown panic attacks can't move can't speak drenched in sweat and dizzy and internally im just desperately trying to get myself to calm down and speak because it's not that serious but my body doesn't cooperate. and it's really frustrating because no matter how many years of work i do to grow past this i've been in therapy since i was 12 yrs old for it and i'm in my late 20s now and its still a constant battle. and i really resent the reputation that social anxiety has where it's viewed as juvenile or pathetic or something easily overcome, maybe some people develop it later in life and are able to overcome it but i've had it my entire life and it ruined my childhood and teenage years and still ruins my ability to function in the world. it's fucking humiliating and talking about it is humiliating because i don't want to be this way and i've been trying for so many years and no matter what i do its always here

[allaboutsturns]

ɪ ᴡɪꜱʜ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇꜱᴛ (ꜰɪɴᴀʟᴇ)

matthew sturniolo x reader

content/warnings: fluff, mentions of healing process, mentions of hospital, mentions of injuries.

summary: it’s been about two months since you got released from the hospital after the incident and you’re closer with the triplets than ever, especially your boyfriend, matt who did everything in his power to fix the mistakes he made.

it’s been around two months since you were released from the hospital and were now home. the healing journey obtained many ups and downs along the way.

there were points during the process where you’d wake up from a nap and stand up out of bed, immediately hit with a wave of pain the moment your feet hit the floor. you’d have to run to the bathroom as quickly as you could because the pain coursing through you hurt so bad it made you physically ill. most of the time when this happened, matt was present and ready, taking your hair in his hands and holding it gently out of your face to make sure none of the vomit dispelling out of you would infect your soft hair.

you were so grateful to have him. while yes, your relationship had its ups and downs, the ups were much more prominent and meaningful.

matt to this day felt guilty about that night, the night that the incident occurred. you and the boys referred to that night as ‘the incident’ because calling it anything else made your hearts ache with the memories.

you still had a difficult time with walking, attending weekly physical therapy to help regain full control. due to your weak muscles and injuries, matt would take care of you, making you breakfast and dinner in bed.

because you now struggled with being able to pleasure yourself, he took it upon himself to do it for you on the nights that you longed for it the most. he did everything for you. he felt as though he needed to, as though he owed it to you.

you constantly reassured him and told him that it was okay, that he didn’t have to do everything he was doing for you, but he ignored it. to him, everything he was doing, you deserved. he never wanted to experience almost losing you again, it was too much for him to handle.

some nights he would come home after filming a video with his brothers, flowers and chocolates in hand. he would light a candle and present the gifts to you with the sweetest smile on his face. he had a newfound love for doing all of this stuff for you, he appreciated being able to more, now that he experienced almost losing you.

a couple days ago, matt made the decision to propose, and of course you said yes. the two of you didn’t plan on holding the wedding anytime soon, or even plan on finalizing the marriage soon, he just wanted to be able to say he was engaged to you, it made his heart flutter with joy.

on the rougher nights, matt would wake up in a cold sweat, his chest heaving and his mind racing after an awful nightmare about that night.

his frantic, short breaths would wake you from your light sleep and you would hold him, letting him rest his head on your chest, which allowed him to hear your calm breaths and gentle heartbeat, reminding him that you were still there. sometimes you guys would lay like that, awake, for a couple hours. other times you guys would fall back asleep almost immediately.

because of your near death experience, you spent more time with nick and chris as well, not wanting to spend any time away from any of the three of them. they were your home, your lighthouse, and you were theirs.

-

you were laying in bed with matt, his head gently resting on your chest, one arm tucked under his body and the other stretched across your stomach.

“i love you, y/n,” he whispered, sleep taunting each word.

“i love you, matt,” you replied with a small smile. he shook his head slightly, “no, i love you. and i am so grateful that you’re mine and i am yours and that we are together,” he paused for a moment before continuing, turning his head so that he could look into your eyes, “you are my everything, my reason, my power, my inspiration, my motivation. you are my everything.” he cooed, reaching a hand up to your face, his thumb brushing away a grateful tear that had managed to escape your waterline.

“you’re my everything, love,” you said with a slight sniffle. he smiled at you gently, that same beautiful smile you had come to love, and you didn’t hesitate to smile back.

he nuzzled his head further into your chest, pulling you as closely as he could, not wanting any distance between the two of you. you giggled to yourself, unable to hide the adoration you had for him.

your eyes grew heavy as did his, and you both allowed sleep to carry you away, your breathing in sync.

divider by: @/Kafekitsune

hey guys!! i know this is a shorter one but i struggled with writing this SO MUCH, i had no ideas at all BUT needed to get it out to u guys. hopefully nothing is confusing because i don’t proofread my work like… at all.

anyways! this is the finale, i hope u guys enjoyed!! i am so grateful for the support and thank u guys so much for 100 followers! i love u

- ace <3

taglist: @whoisabbyysblog @mattyblover07 @b2cute @samandcolbyfan22 @h3arts4harry @nickgetsmewetter

#Spotify #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #sturniolo triplets #allaboutsturns #matthew sturniolo #matt stuniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo x reader #matt sturniolo fluff

[sisterofficerlucychen]

so i hadn't been able to watch the elevator scene in its entirety until rn because my stream cut off but oh my god.

i personally found that scene so beautiful and what eric and melissa had initially said about where it left them makes so much more sense ♡

for starters, the location — the elevator. at first, their "spot" in mid-wilshire was the garage, then the parking lot, and now the elevator which i think is a really cool metaphor? elevators go up and they go down, which i think is where they're headed because they have a long journey ahead of them to find their way back to one another (and it won't be easy). it's also where they shared that hug in the last episode and it was something both of them needed so much so it was nice to see this kind of continue.

i loved the intentionally behind the blocking that melissa described in their latest interview. there's something about the way how she's behind him literally tucked away in the corner, how they're not facing each other to when he finally turns to face her.

the song selection ♡

at first there's like this inkling of normalcy with tim saying that she probably saved his life and lucy saying that he had the guy — for some reason it took me back to when she gave him the audiobook and teased him about training for the rematch with nico.

and then he turns to her ... while it wasn't the adult conversation or a heart to heart necessarily, it was such an impactful moment because it's the first time he's acknowledged to her face how badly he messed up and the impact of her still being there for him because he wasn't okay until she reached out and we saw how the weight of everything he was carrying melted away as soon as she pulled him into an embrace.

"[...] and i will spend the rest of my life trying to pay it back in whatever small doses you allow" the choice of words here was something i found really interesting and also what it's tied to? because it has nothing to do with the break up but rather paying back the kindness she showed him when he didn't deserve it.

i had to sit with this for a second but ultimately i think the reason why it's better that those words don't have anything to do with the break up is because it wouldn't have been the right time or place (imo he's not ready to give lucy the answers she deserves) but how she's always been there for him. that kindness goes back to the very beginning and plays such a pivotal part in the foundation of their relationship because it was through that kindness that he was able to come back from a really dark place — along the way she became a voice of reason, comfort, and safe place.

just like she set the boundary of checking in on him even though she was still mad at him, he keeps that boundary by acknowledging that she has the control and autonomy here and it's her decision to accept or reject him trying to pay it back. also the "rest of my life" and "small doses" because of the implication of how this is something that will take time, a lot of time and effort.

lastly, lucy's reaction; how she takes it all in and there's this flicker in her eyes as he says that. she could have easily shut him down all things considered but instead she stays silent. that tentative first step as they both leave the elevator, how she continues to process what that could mean as she walks out too. it's not a no and it's not a yes but it's a start, it's hope.

#the rookie #chenford #the rookie spoilers #it is almost midnight and i should be asleep instead of rambling lmao

[fortheloveofwonderland]

Rusty | Chapter 14 | S.R

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

A/N - filler chapter of sorts I suppose. I needed this build up to the next chapter which I guess will be the kinda pinnacle of their relationship. It’s also one of the more angsty chapters, please proceed with caution.

Summary - Another trip to the hospital does not get Spencer’s birthday off on the right foot. You try to push past your anger and frustration towards him in order to still help him celebrate.

Pairing - Spencer Reid / Fem! Reader

Category - strangers to friends to lovers | angst | smut minors DNI

Warnings - mentions of past abuse, unhealthy coping mechanisms, blood, self harm, hospital, dissociative suicidal ideals, swearing, medication, tears, arguing, mentions of Maeve, vague mentions of age gap.

WC - 6k

Chapter 14 - Even Cowgirls Get the Blues

There was a place in your mind you’d been forced to carve out, a small, dark recess for which you’d been obligated to create. 

It was a special place you visited when things became too much, the burden of your stepfather's abuse and later the hardships that came from being on your own at such a young age. 

It was your own way of distancing yourself from life’s fundamentally unrelenting wave of trauma. No point letting it bring you down or you may never get out of bed in the morning. 

When you suffered, you stuffed it down in the cavern of your mind. Don’t dwell, don’t allow yourself to feel. Box it up and send it on its way. 

It wasn’t a healthy coping mechanism, for that you were acutely aware. But it staved off the emotions, allowed you to get up with the dawn of each new day and carry on. 

It was a fail safe, your own way of shrouding yourself from the horrors of the world. 

But the day you opened the door to Spencer’s lodge and found him unconscious in a sea of red, would leave you forever changed. 

This was one too substantial to quantify. There was no hiding this away. You were sure for the rest of your life you would never shake that image from your mind. 

When you’d taken your revenge on Leon there had been a lot of blood. It wasn’t until later when you were being processed by the cops that you realised some of it was on your own clothes too.

But you were calm, unperturbed. He’d deserved to bleed that way, the sticky substance pooling from the holes you’d shot into him didn’t phase you. 

This was different. This was one atrocity you would never be able to stow away. 

It all seemed like a dream, albeit a terrifying one. The images were blurry but no less nauseating. Somehow you’d managed to jump into action without letting yourself become bogged down in the weight of it all. 

You’d tried to stem the bleeding whilst calling the ambulance, followed behind in your car while they took him to the hospital. You’d done everything right, not allowed yourself to crumble before you saved his life. 

But now it was hitting you like a tsunami. As you sat in the waiting area of the hospital, staring catatonically at the opposite wall, you couldn’t stop seeing the scene you’d walked in on when you’d arrived back from town. 

Spencer slumped on the couch, eyes closed and barely breathing. Head forward, chin on his chest. A razor blade still held limply in his right hand and a seemingly endless stream of blood flowing from his left arm. 

Somehow he’d gotten his cast off, the remnants of plaster and purple fibreglass strips you found on the floor from the kitchen to the couch where you’d found him. He’d taken the razor and cut a vertical laceration from the crook of his arm to his wrist. 

The doctor had told you he’d incised an old scar you hadn’t known existed on his forearm. The damage was extensive, he lost a lot of blood. That much you knew, you’d seen it. 

The floor and the couch and Spencer’s clothes had been covered in the claret. In an attempt to try and stop the bleeding you yourself were covered in it. 

Your hands were still stained light red despite the scrubbing. The sleeves of your shirt were caked in it. You knew exactly how much blood he’d lost. 

You didn’t know the full extent of what was going on as you tried to tune it out. He’d had his wound stitched up, some imaging to ensure he hadn’t caused any kind of permanent nerve damage. He was pumped with fluids and had regained consciousness. 

The doctor informed you that you could see him but you didn’t move from the waiting room chair. They were waiting on a psychological evaluation to determine if he was a danger to himself. 

You would argue that he most certainly was. 

You were gone an hour at most. If you’d come back even a minute later, Spencer most likely would have bled to death. 

Perhaps that had been his intention. Maybe he hadn’t wanted saving. What if you’d betrayed him by letting him live?

Eventually the doctor came back once the shrink had visited with Spencer. They’d reviewed his medical history, spoken to Doctor Ortega and determined he wasn’t outwardly suicidal. 

He’d gone on to explain that his dissociative disorder caused a shift in normal behaviour. There was a part of Spencer, one that lived deep within in his fractured psyche that harboured these kinds of thoughts but it only presented itself when he fell into one of these states. 

Their main concern was trying to stem the dissociations, and aid him in experiencing them less frequently. The doctor was confident that when he wasn’t dissociating he wasn’t a threat to himself. But the stronger dosage of his med was yet to fully kick in, they hoped that when it did he would experience them less. 

You’d listened and stored the information but it all went a little over your head. Your brain was sheathed in a thick fog, still ruminating on the sight of the blood, on Spencer’s unconscious body. 

Before leaving the doctor told you that Spencer was asking to see you. 

The emotions that swirled within you when you finally got up from the chair were nearly overwhelming. You experienced them all at once, a tornado of feelings all begging to be felt. 

You were terrified, you were sad. You were grateful he was alive but so fucking angry at him for putting you in this position. 

You found him in the hospital bed, his entire forearm bandaged in a thick gauze and set with a splint as his arm was still broken. 

He had an IV attached to the back of his hand and a thin sheet draped over his lower half. His expression as you entered the room was unreadable. 

You shuffled further into the room, closer to his bedside but didn’t come too close for fear you might slap him for his stupidity. 

His eyes were hooded, his lips dry and chapped and pulled into a thin, tight line. His hair was damp and stuck to his forehead. 

He wouldn’t make eye contact with you, instead stared down at the drip in his hand, flexing his fingers and watching the way the movement caused his vein to throb. 

“You could have died.” Your voice was rough and scratchy, you hadn’t had anything to drink since you’d been here. “I thought you were dead.” 

“There’s really not much point in me explaining myself.” He huffed out a breath. “We all know what happened. I dissociated, I cut myself. There’s no use me sitting here and telling you I didn’t mean to do, because I guess there’s a part of me that did. But the conscious part of my brain, the dominant part, didn’t mean to do it. I’m not suicidal, I don’t want to die.” 

“You scared the shit out of me.” You wrapped your arms around your waist although it was too late to protect yourself now. 

It couldn’t be unseen, the blood would never wash away from your memory.

He heard the trembling of your voice and he looked up at you now. You looked so tiny and fragile at that moment. 

“In my defence,” he shrugged meekly. “I did ask you not to leave me alone.”

The way your eyes widened in disbelief wasn’t a surprise to him. He could feel the anger radiating off of you from his words.

“So this is my fault?” 

“I didn’t say-”

“I can just never leave you alone for fear you’re going to do something like this?” You spat. “I can’t live like that! I was gone for a fucking hour, Spencer! And I come home to find you covered in blood, unconscious! I can’t live like that. I lost both of my parents Spencer, I can’t lose another person I love!” 

He shrunk back against the pillows, rolling his lip between his teeth. 

“I can’t change this about myself, Y/N.” He whispered. “I wish I could, trust me when I say there is no one who wants me to get better more than I do. Maybe you’d be best to leave. I’m no good for you, I’m no good for anyone.” 

“Don’t start that self deprecating BS again. You’re not going to get rid of me so easily. But you have to let me help you. If you’d told me the reason you didn’t want me to leave was because you were scared this would happen I would have stayed. I thought you were just being needy.” You started angry but as you talked your voice softened, more sounding fed up by the time you reached the end.

Spencer was toying with the IV, not trying to remove it, just gently fiddling with it to distract himself. 

“I know. I knew as soon as you walked out of the door that I should have said something. The stronger dosage of my meds hasn’t taken effect yet, I guess. But asking for help is a really big thing for me. In my whole life I’ve never really had anyone I could depend on, only myself. Even after prison, I pushed Luke away because I was adamant I could handle things on my own.” He sulked, pouting his bottom lip.

“Yeah, and look how well that worked out for you.” You sighed with a roll of your eyes. 

“I…I know I said it would be best for you to walk away but…please don’t? I know I’m a lot, I know I’m fucked up. But you’re just about the best thing that has ever happened to me and I can’t lose you.” A few tears crept from his eyes and your chest constricted.

You shuffled closer to the hospital bed and perched on a small empty space next to Spencer’s ribs. He immediately took hold of your hand, you were careful not to disturb his IV as you curled your fingers around it. 

“I told you, you’re not getting rid of me so easily. But you have to try Spencer, you have to talk to me if you think you’re at risk of dissociating or something. I might not be able to stop it happening but I can at the very least stop you from hurting yourself while you’re out. You have to involve me.” Your voice still held a hint of sternness, wanting him to know that you meant what you were saying.

“I promise I will try.” He nodded, offering you a tired smile. 

It was understandable that he was drained, and you gave his hand a soft squeeze before letting it and sliding off the bed. 

“You should rest.” You told him, his eyes already growing heavier. 

“Hmm, rest would be nice.” He agreed. 

“I’m going to go back to the ranch and clean up but I'll be back I’ll a few hours okay?” 

Spencer looked at you now, brows pinched and noticing for the first time that your shirt was covered in blood. His stomach coiled and he grimaced. 

“Oh gosh, I’m so sorry.” He whined. 

“It’s okay.” You shrugged. “Just try and get some sleep, I’ll be back in a little while.” 

Spencer nodded, shuffling himself down the pillows and tangling his good hand in the bedsheets. He didn’t speak again and neither did you, choosing to silently retreat from the room instead. 

You barely had it closed behind you before Spencer started to violently sob out of nowhere. Tears broke free in heavy waves and his body started to wrack under the weight of it all. 

He should not have dragged you into his messed up life. Maybe it would have been better all around if you’d left him to die on the side of the road. 

***

Before you bothered to shower and change out of your blood stained clothes, you set about cleaning Spencer’s lodge so he didn’t have to return home to this mess. 

You tried to ignore the metallic smell of the dried blood as you got on your knees and scrubbed the tarnished floorboards. The hardest part was getting it out from the cracks between them but you were thankful the floor was dark and it was hardly noticeable. 

You were glad for Spencer having a leather couch as at least it hadn’t seeped deep within porous fibres. Still though, you couldn’t get it completely clean and the arm of the couch would forever be marked. If you let yourself pretend, you could imagine it was simply a red wine stain. 

Surveying your work you didn’t feel satisfied like you’d hoped. You could still see the blood in your mind, maybe you always would. Perhaps you would never be able to shake the image of Spencer half dead in a pool of his own blood. 

You had tears in your eyes by the time you were finished cleaning and dragging yourself to the bathroom. You didn’t look at your clothes as you stripped them off, planning to dispose of them later. 

It was only once you were in the shower that you let your tears fall. They mixed with the water coursing over you as you cried quietly into your hands. 

You hoped that once his stronger dosage kicked in it would help stem his dissociative episodes. Even if it didn’t get rid of them entirely, they had to at least make them less frequent. 

You’d told Spencer he would never have a normal life with you, forever looking over his shoulder. But it was apparent you would also never have a normal life with him. And there might come a day where you are just too late to save his life. 

***

You returned to the hospital to find Spencer sleeping peacefully and you couldn’t help the way it angered you that he could be so relaxed. You weren’t sure you’d ever have a decent night sleep again. 

When Spencer woke up he made small talk to fill the void which was normally something you took the mantle of, but you found you didn’t have much to say. 

It was morning by the time Spencer was discharged and you were physically and mentally drained. 

The doctors didn’t re-cast his arm as he needed to be able to let his new wound heal, instead they left him in the removable split. He was told he needed to take it off for at least a few hours a day to allow his stitched cut to breathe but to exercise extreme caution as his broken bones weren’t yet fully healed. When he wasn’t wearing the splint he still needed to wear a sling to keep his arm stabilised and reduce motion. 

The drive back to his ranch was spent in stifled silence. By the time you arrived back you couldn’t wait to curl up in bed and try to put this ordeal behind you. 

You went to pass him as he hovered near the car, straight up to your own lodge but he gently reached out and circled his fingers around your wrist. 

“Where are you going?” He asked, voice croaky and unsure. 

“To sleep. I’m exhausted.” You snatched your arm out of his grip. 

He looked wounded by your words, like they caused him physical pain. You always slept in his bed, he’d grown accustomed to falling asleep next you, waking up and your face being the first thing he saw. 

For years he’d hated sharing his personal space like that but he’d quickly gotten used to you being there. 

“Can’t you, uh, you usually sleep in there?” He nodded his head towards his own lodge. 

You huffed out a deep breath, scratching the back of your neck in discomfort. 

“I just want to be alone right now, Spencer.” You shrugged, turning away from him. 

You got a few steps before his voice caught your attention again. 

“Sorry that my dissociative suicide attempt has pissed you off.” He spat harshly. 

You immediately tensed, turning back to look at him. His eyes were dark with his anger and you imagined yours were much the same. 

“Is that supposed to be fucking funny?” You folded your arms across your chest.

“Not in the slightest.” He mirrored your position despite how hard it was with his splint. 

“While you were resting up in the hospital, I was scrubbing blood out of your floorboards.” You scowled at him.

“Thought you’d be used to large amounts of blood.” He scoffed. 

“Wow,” You shook your head. “Just fucking wow.”

You spun away from him again and started storming towards the spare lodge. The rage filled every pore, every nerve ending. If you didn’t leave you would surely say something you would regret. But Spencer wouldn’t let it lie.

“I’m sorry this has been an inconvenience to you but it hasn’t exactly been a walk in the park for me either.” He raised his voice and you heard the gravel crunching under foot as he followed you. “I could have died! And despite there clearly being some part of my brain that desired that outcome, for the most part I did not want that. And you’re treating me like this is my fault!” 

“Who else’s fault is it?” You spun once more, raising your voice. “No one made you cut your arm open Spencer.” 

“I’m sick.” He hissed. “I told you that day one. I told you I wasn’t well, that you shouldn’t get close to me but you did it anyway. I gave you fair warning that I am fucked up in the head so don’t act like this is new information. I’m sorry you had to witness it and I am sorry you had to clean up after my mess but you were warned.” 

“There’s fucked up and then there’s goddamn suicidal Spencer!” You yelled. “How many times will I have to clean your blood off of the floor? How many times before I find you actually dead? I love you, you idiot! I can’t watch you die.” 

Spencer softened a little, his eyes downturned and his arms falling back to his sides. He knew you had a point. As much as he couldn’t control his behaviour when he dissociated, he could take measures to stop the dissociation in the first place. He knew his grounding techniques, he knew it was possible. 

But he allowed himself to be consumed by it, threw himself over to it rather than trying to fight against it. And he could have very well died, you could have found his dead body. And he knew that wasn’t fair. 

He’d seen his share of corpses in his time with the BAU. It got easier over time, he distanced himself from it, grew hardened by it. But he never had a connection to those people, didn’t know them from Adam. 

Spencer remembered with startling clarity what it had been like to watch Maeve die. Having an eidetic memory meant he could recall every little detail of that day, watching the life snuff out behind her eyes, her body collapsing to the floor in a pool of hers and Diane Turner’s blood. 

It still haunted him from time to time, witnessing someone he loved be taken away from him in such a brutal way. He knew exactly what you meant then, and he would never want to put another person through what he had been through. 

“I, uh,” he swallowed. “Years ago, my girlfriend was murdered right in front of me.” He confessed, his chest tightening as he did so. Your expression softened as you looked at him, silently telling him to continue, so he did. “I will never forget it, not as long as I live. I don’t want to do that to you.” 

You inhaled sharply, completely thrown off by his sudden admittance. You felt the previous anger asusaging, but it didn’t vanish thoroughly. 

“I’m sorry you had to go through that.” You lowered your voice. “I still just need to be alone right now though, okay?” 

“Fine,” Spencer shook his head sadly.

“Try to sleep or something. I’ll see you later on.” You turned and this time he didn’t stop you. 

He watched you retreat towards the second lodge, arms wrapped around yourself as you went. He clenched and unclenched his jaw, a dull throb coursing down his arm. He stood still until you disappeared up the steps and let yourself into the cabin.

When he finally turned to his own lodge, tears were hindering his vision as he pathetically dragged his body towards the door, thinking to himself, happy fucking birthday you moron. 

***

You laid in bed for several hours staring at the ceiling but eventually must have fallen asleep as the next thing you knew it was past four pm. So much for throwing Spencer a birthday celebration.

You sat up in bed. You were on top of the covers and still fully dressed. Your bags of shopping from yesterday were sitting on the floor by the door and your stomach coiled. It was Spencer’s birthday and you didn’t want him to be alone, to believe no one cared. But you were also still a little frustrated at him. 

You pushed yourself up and stood, stretching your limbs as you did so. You knew inevitably that you would go through with your plan even if you were still angry at him. No one should have to celebrate their birthday alone. 

You showered for a long time, trying to re-energise yourself for the task ahead. You let the water caress your aching limbs for longer than was necessary and once you were done, took your time getting dressed. 

You picked out a dress from a store in town similar to the floral off the shoulder number Spencer had liked so much on you. It was a deep, royal purple in colour, you had assumed it to be a favourite of his and slipped on a pair of cheap black patent heels you’d also purchased on your trip to town. 

The dress was billowy and reminiscent of 1950s swing style dresses. It cinched you in at the waist, hugged your curves and showed off your legs. Looking at your reflection you had to admit it looked wonderful on you, but it did nothing to soothe your mood.

Regardless, you pressed on. You took your shopping bags and the cheap fold up craft table you’d bought and snuck out of the lodge, glancing left and then right to see if Spencer was lurking around. Hopefully he would be sleeping still or reading or something and not up at the stable. 

Thankfully the stable was empty, aside from the four horses who were all pleased to see you, although to varying degrees. Rusty was the most excited, making appeasing huffing sounds when she saw you. Willow and Franklin both made noises of greeting while Wilbur simply glanced at you briefly before returning to his trough of food. Clearly Spencer had been here at some point while you’d been resting as they’d been fed and groomed. 

You went about setting everything up. You unfolded the craft table and set it up far enough away from all four steeds that they wouldn't be able to reach the party food you then set up on it. You filled little paper bowls and plates with cocktail sausages, mini sausage rolls, bowls of chips and dips and several bottles of flavoured pop. 

The centrepiece was a large red velvet cake for which you stuck five candles in, having no idea how old Spencer turned today. You hung happy birthday banners and streams of bunting all around the stable before collecting the pile of gifts and cards left by Luke from your closet. You donned a party hat, and gave the stable a once over.

It looked like a slightly sad kids birthday celebration, certainly not what you’d had in mind but it was the best you could do at such short notice. You still had a pang of annoyance towards Spencer in your gut but you tried to push past it, at least just for today.

Once you were finished preparing, it was dark outside. You closed the barn doors and typed out a quick text to Spencer asking him to come to the stable before you stood awkwardly and waited. 

He could very well have been asleep still, or even if he wasn’t he didn’t always have his phone nearby. You could be waiting ages. But less than two minutes later you received a reply. 

📲 Spencer Reid: I just got out the shower, can you give me five minutes? Is everything okay? 

You responded to let him know everything was fine and made up a quick lie about needing him to check out a sore on Rusty’s back. And so you waited. According to your phone seven minutes passed between you sending the second text and the sound of footsteps heading up towards the stable.

You held your breath, instinctively wrapping your arms around yourself whilst rolling your lip between your teeth. You heard him getting closer and before long the large barn door creaked open and Spencer took a step inside.

He only made it one step before he stilled, eyes quickly flitting around the stable, from you and that dress, to the party hat on your head, to the decorations and to the table packed with food and gifts.

He looked back over at you, a questioning expression on his features. He was dressed in dark jeans and a red flannel shirt with the top few buttons undone. His hair was slightly damp on the ends from his shower and he wore his sling, arm cradled against his chest. He opened his mouth but the words got caught in his throat.

“Uh, Luke left you a bunch of gifts on your doorstep.” You shrugged. “He was talking through the door, thought you might have been in there and before he left I heard him say, Happy birthday for Friday.”

Spencer’s wide eyes once again wandered around the stable, taking it all in once more as though he couldn’t quite believe any of it was actually there. When they landed back on you, you could see the unshed tears causing his eyes to sparkle.

“It’s been…” he cleared his throat, eyebrows pinching together. “It’s been a long time since someone did something for my birthday.”

“You’re welcome?” You shrugged again. 

He took a few steps forward and picked up a party hat from the table, inspecting it in his hand as if he’d never seen one before. After a few long seconds, he raised it to his head and pulled the elastic under his chin to secure it, which looked particularly cumbersome with one hand but he managed it. 

“You did all this for me?” He croaked.

“I mean, it's not much.” You waved him off. 

“You were planning all of this for me and I…fuck…I am so sorry.” He shook his head.

“Don’t.” You shook yours too. “Not now. Just, uh, lets just enjoy this okay?” 

Spencer exhaled through his nose, stepping closer to you and raising his good hand to rest on your hip. His eyes grazed up and down the dress and the way it hugged your figure in the most sinfully perfect way.

“Was this for my benefit also?” His lip quipped at the corner. 

“It wasn’t for mine.” You rolled your eyes. “So what birthday are we celebrating, Doctor Reid?”

He shuddered at your use of his honorific the way you knew he would. 

“Uh, a big one I guess.” He sighed. “I turned forty today.” 

“Ohh old man.” You teased. 

“Wow, thanks for that.” He chuckled. “They say forty is the new thirty.” 

“Who says that?” You laughed as he edged his way closer until your bodies were flush together. 

“Me, I said that. And you know, you’re only as old as you feel?” He pulled a face. In reality he felt so much older than forty. 

“I think the term you’re looking for is that you’re only as old as the person you’re feeling.” You smirked devilishly at him and he shuddered again. 

“Well in that case, I’m in luck.” He chuckled, bowing his head and kissing you while his hand groped at the fabric of your dress. 

The kiss grew heated rapidly, his tongue hungrily exploring your mouth whilst all your previous anger towards him died on his lips. But before he could get too carried away, you pushed him lightly by his shoulder. 

“You have gifts to open. And cake to eat.” You chuckled at his eagerness. 

“I thought you were my gift?” He whined. 

“Not a chance, cowboy.” You stepped back from his hold. “You have to enjoy the world's most depressing birthday party first.” 

Spencer couldn’t hold back the laugh as he glanced back at the display of food and gifts. He nodded in agreement, knowing the chances were likely if the two of you started to get intimate he would back off and ruin the night. 

He didn’t want that. 

So instead he reluctantly picked at the food and eyes up the gifts and cards all adorned with several sets of handwriting he knew so well. 

He wished he could be grateful that his old friends still cared enough to send him gifts, but they only left him feeling disheartened. 

***

After stuffing his face with all manner of party food and two large slices of cake, he hesitantly started on the presents sent by the BAU team.

Garcia got him another horse plushie to match the grey one she’d sent to him a few months after he left Virginia. Rossi sent a new brown suede stetson which Spencer could tell was incredibly pricey. 

Tara and Emily gifted him a few flannel shirts and a t-shirt which somewhat cringingly proclaimed ‘Everything's Bigger in Texas.’ 

JJ sent him a book full of drawings Henry and Michael had done of Spencer and his horses, the first page of which, in JJ’s neat cursive read: ‘The Log of a Doctor turned Cowboy - the Spencer Reid Chronicles.’

Luke’s gift and card remained untouched. He stared at it for several long minutes before casting it aside, silently telling you he didn’t want it. The final gift was a small box for which you handed him shyly. He toyed with it in his hands and you chewed on your lip.

“It’s not much.” You shrugged. “I, uh, I didn’t know what to get you.” 

Spencer glanced up at you with a soft smile before focusing back on the box in his hand. He’d already removed his sling to allow him to open the gifts but under your very watchful eye to ensure he didn’t exacerbate his injuries. 

You had to go out to Pipe Creek for this specific gift as there was a wider range of shopping available. You were extremely lucky that you could get such a personalised gift on such short notice, paying extra for the blacksmith to craft this for you as quickly as possible. 

Spencer lifted the lid and you watched his brows furrow as he cautiously removed the item from inside the bed of shredded paper. He hooked it on his finger and raised it in front of his eyeline as he inspected every intricate detail of the small gift.

It was a keychain with several metal pendants hanging from the loop. Four silver names dangled from the centre loop, Willow, Wilbur, Franklin and Rusty. The focal point was a circular metal disk about the size of his old NA chip. It was mostly black, but embossed in silver was the shape of stars and constellations. 

Around the outside, curling with the curve of the disk were the engraved words ‘the night your star crossed with mine.’ He looked back at you, the unshed tears once again prominent behind his eyes, questioning without the use of words. 

“The night we met, when I came back here whilst you were in the hospital, I just sat on your porch and stared at the stars. It was the first time I’d ever really had the chance to see them properly. And every night since I look up at them and think how beautiful they are and how if it wasn’t for us meeting I may never have had the simple pleasure of looking at the stars in the sky.

“I found an image online of exactly what the sky over your ranch looked like that first night, the night our stars crossed. There's a blacksmith in Pipe Creek who is seriously under utilised because he made that in like a half hour. It was really impressive.” You babbled a little. 

Spencer looked back at the keyring then back at you several times in quick succession. When he finally settled on you, his tears escaped his eyes and started rolling down his cheeks.

“I think this might be…” He croaked. “The nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.” 

“Oh don’t say that, that’s just sad.” You chuckled with a shake of your head, making Spencer laugh too despite his tears. 

“That’s a maybe, but it's painfully true.” He stepped closer to you, setting the box back on the table but still holding the keychain. “I love you so, so much,Y/N.” 

“Happy birthday, stud.” You giggled as he kissed you once more. “Slow your horses, cowboy.”

“Mmm, do I have to?” He mumbled against your lips. 

“Yah huh, your birthday isn't over yet.” 

“Oh no, what else have you planned?” 

“We’re going to see some live music down at the Wildhorse Saloon. I thought it was kind of apt seeing as we met in part because of a wild horse.” You nodded your head in Rusty’s direction. 

“I think that sounds more fun for you than it does for me?” He frowned a little. 

“Probably,” you nodded. “But you really do need more fun in your life.”

“I have plenty of fun.” He scoffed, placing the keychain gently back inside the box. 

“Yeah, okay,” you rolled your eyes. “You might enjoy it, and besides, I didn’t get this dressed up to hang out in a horse stable all night.” 

“I thought it was for my benefit?” Spencer struggled with his sling and you came closer so you could help secure it around his neck.

“It was, mostly.” You shrugged. “But this dress demands to be seen.”

“Trust me when I say I am seeing it.” He hissed as you stepped back around to face him and his eyes grazed up and down the garment. 

“Humour me?” You tilted your head to the side. “I’d really like to just cut loose after, you know, everything.” 

Spencer exhaled loudly, knowing you were right. It might be his birthday but you had been through a lot with finding him hurt and having to clean up his blood. And honestly, Spencer had a hard time saying no to you. 

“Fine, okay.” He shrugged. “But if you plan on cutting loose we’ll probably be best to walk. I can’t drive or ride with my arm strapped in this thing.” 

“Deal.” You agreed with an almost smug smile, but Spencer didn’t reciprocate. “Oh come on, Doc, you might surprise yourself and actually have a good time.”

“I highly doubt that.” He huffed, watching you saunter past him to the door. “But I’ll be damned if I could ever deny you anything.”

“That’s the spirit.” You laughed, swinging the door open. 

“I am, however, not wearing this party hat.” He scrambled after you.

“I’ll allow it.” You clucked, continuing down the gravel path and hearing him latch the barn door closed before hurrying after you. 

As you headed away, a pang of anger let itself be known in the pit of your stomach. No matter how hard you tried to get past it you couldn’t stop picturing Spencer slumped in a pool of his own blood. 

You knew for a fact alcohol was only going to intensify that feeling. And you were sure the chances were that this night would end in disaster. But it didn’t stop you from going ahead with it anyway, despite your better judgement. 

@kalulakunundrum @katrina0-0 @bakugouswh0r3 @prettyboyandthefangirl @zooni92802 @babyspiderling

#spencer reid #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x fem! reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction

[mothwingwritings]

Basic Maintenance

F!Reader X Jack Hanma

Hello everyone! Back at it with a new (maybe old, as I started this forever ago lol) Jack piece! I suppose you could call this a personal piece, I began it purely as a way to vent as I myself REALLY fucking hate going to the gynecologist and I had a pending appointment at the time. So as any sane person would do when faced with having to do something they despise, I wrote this to cope! Who wouldn’t recreate a moment in time you despise, embellished to be much worse than it actually was by starring your favorite fictional characters being horrible so you can live out the whole ordeal all over again but ~sexier~?

Anyway, here it is! Hope you enjoy it!

No explicit sex, but due to the subject material this fic is 18+ please!

Warnings: LOTS of genitalia talk in this one, readers vag is truly the star of the show here. Also heavy talk about doctors and medical procedures, specifically a pap smear, so if that icks you please be mindful! Also within is noncon mentions/past noncon, unhealthy relationships, yandere themes, kidnapped reader, abused reader, spicy reader (you have a bit of a tude in this but honestly its warranted), some language.

“Do you really have to be in here for this?”

Your irritation grew as you glowered at the man leaning nonchalantly in the corner, looking completely at ease as his back rested against the sterile wall of the doctor’s office. Maybe ‘hunched’ was a more suitable way to describe his posture, his mass taking up so much space that his head grazed the ceiling of the compact room, forcing him into an unnatural position. Jack’s face was impassive, eyes tightly closed as his arms crossed loosely over his chest, waiting patiently with you for the doctor’s arrival. He was so still that if you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he had fallen asleep.

“Yes,” came his gruff reply, bronze eyes cracking open to lock on to yours, “Now stop asking. It will be over soon.”

You sighed heavily, kicking your feet lazily as they dangled off the medical bench. It was a battle you had lost before it even began, but that wasn’t going to stop you from voicing your complaints. Jack let you be alone for all your other medical appointments, so you didn’t understand why this one needed to be any different.

You were naked save for the baggy, dusty pink, medical gown that had been left for you to change into. While Jack had insisted on being in the room when you changed, he had shockingly granted you privacy while putting it on, turning his large body away the entire time you were undressed. It wasn’t as if you had anything left to hide from him (your nude form was something he had witnessed countless times before), but you had mentioned offhandedly that there was something particularly irksome about his unwavering stare in the confines of a hospital room, a place that was supposed to be private and confidential, that upset you-especially when you had to undress. He must have actually taken those words in to consideration, which was honestly more than you could have hoped for.

You grimaced when you accidentally rammed your fidgety legs into the unfolded feet stirrups that were lying in wait. Though it hurt you made no noise, only frowning at the uncomfortable reminder of the procedure that would be momentarily taking place. Glancing over at Jack amplified the pain, and you wished that at the very least he would grant you privacy for the intrusive process that was about to take place. But wishing amounted to nothing, and so you were left waiting in a heavy silence with Jack not too far off, the pit in your stomach threatening to swallow you whole.

The entirety of your life had become monitored by Jack, his ever present watchful eye making sure you were following the stringent rules he had set in place to keep you ‘safe.’ Safe from what you didn’t know, as you felt like little more than a prisoner the entire time you were in his care, locked in captivity with no means of interacting with the outside world other than what Jack deemed fit. Unsurprisingly, this turned out to be barely, if any, interaction at all. Due to this, your days had become a blur, each one resembling the next, melding into a mass of uniform discontent and boredom. All you had was Jack and the walls in which he had encapsulated you, all you had to look forward to was the hope that each day would somehow be a little less abysmal than the last.

However you had learned quickly that voicing too many complaints would only make things worse for you, leaving you to bite the bullet time and again in an effort to not set off this tyrant. If Jack was satiated, at least that meant you could achieve some normalcy in your daily life, even if it was just a crumb. Sacrificing your happiness and free-will had become the price you must pay to retain your sanity, to survive.

And now here you were, on one of his many forced check-ups that were scheduled far more frequently than was actually necessary. Your health had become his obsession, which you found rather peculiar given how much he seemed to disregard his own. Regardless, making sure you were fit and well was very important to him, much more so than looking after his own body. He poured himself into your maintenance with the gusto of a man whose life passion was fixing up old cars, making sure you were fine-tuned and running as you should, looking as pretty on the inside as the outside, it quickly became one of his greatest passions. After all, what was he to do if the love of his life fell ill with some mysterious wasting disease or ended up getting severely hurt? He refused to even entertain the thought of anything that could potentially end your life, and thus started going above and beyond to make sure you would be stuck with him for a very long time.

In all honesty, you usually didn’t mind the abundant health checks that much. It was a chance to get out of that god forsaken apartment he cooped you up in, and better yet, it offered rare moments where you could talk with other human beings without having Jack’s immense presence lingering over your shoulder.

But today was different. Today was the first time that you would be seen for something besides your normal check-up, instead partaking in a different kind of examination, one that was a bit more intimate than all the others previous.

Now that the two of you were sexually active (regardless of if that was something you had wanted and/or agreed to or not), Jack found it prudent that you start getting checkups that catered to those sexual proclivities. Thus, he wasted no time in setting up your first gynecological visit since he had taken you in, pleased with himself that he had the foresight to cover all of your medical bases. You guessed this new sudden fixation was his attempt to show you that in his own way he cared, that he wanted to do all he could to make sure you were healthy in every way you could be. But you also knew it was equally important to him to keep you in good physical condition from all the brutal fucking he had done to you, as you needed to be in one piece for when he continued to mercilessly ravage you in the future.

How thoughtful.

And when it came down to anything medical, Doctor Kureha seemed to be the only one Jack entrusted you with. It made sense to an extent, while Jack normally despised anyone but himself being in your presence, he was particularly adverse to people he didn’t already know. This went doubly for medical professionals that could very well be holding your life in their hands, he’d die before he let some unknown quack even breath in your general vicinity, let alone touch you.

But he knew Kureha and could personally vouch for his medical expertise, so in that regard making him your primary care physician was a no brainer. Deeper still, he could trust Kureha to not air his dirty laundry. The alarming signs of Jack’s passion that riddled your body would be a major red flag for any medical professional that saw them, and any outsider that spotted them would surely start asking questions the moment they laid eyes upon them. Only Kureha could be trusted to keep them mum, it was guaranteed. After all, if the good doctor even so much as made a suggestive comment to another person about the state you were in, Jack had more than enough dirt on the man to swiftly and efficiently end his career (and the muscle power to end his life, should it come to that).

Even with the questionable foundation of your relationship, you truly liked Kureha. You’d even go so far as to say that you considered him a friend, or at least as close to a friend as you can have under Jack’s suffocating surveillance. While going to a doctor’s office for any reason wasn’t particularly fun, you couldn’t help but begin to view the hospital where he worked as an oasis of sorts. It was clean, quiet, and within its glaringly white walls you could almost forget the nightmare your life had become, getting lost in the aseptic-ness of it all.

Kureha made pleasant company as well. You were weary of him at first, as it was hard not to be leery of any person Jack introduced to you. The fact that Jack willingly initiated an interaction between you and one of his associates was suspicious in and of itself, as prior to meeting Kureha he had never made any attempt to tell you about his friends, family, or anyone else that may be in his life.

When he explained that the person he wanted you to meet was a doctor, a specific image came to mind. Maybe they would be an older man, graying hair, kindly and smart. Picturing the mystery man as a fatherly type of figure made your heart hurt a bit, yearning for your own family that you had long since been exempt from seeing. These feelings also made you a bit eager to meet him, hoping to find comfort or camaraderie in this other person’s potentially trustworthy presence.

You certainly were not expecting the Adonis of a man who ended up greeting you.

The thing you recalled the most from your initial meeting with Kureha was how off-putting it was. His well-built, stocky body stood before you with an outstretched hand, his chiseled face framed in lusciously flowing auburn locks as his pouty, full lips offered a casual greeting. The polite smile that lit his criminally pretty face clashed heavily with the image you had pictured in your head, causing a brief moment of whiplash that left you speechless. The conflict between imagined and factual was so jarring in fact, that you nearly laughed out loud the moment you saw him, his strange presentation making you feel like you had wound up as the female lead of some kind of prime-time doctor drama. Appearance aside however, he was calm and mature, speaking to you like the intelligent adult you actually were, which was a breath of fresh air from the dismissive and childish treatment you typically received from Jack. Being in the presence of someone who treated you as an independent human had become a foreign feeling, but a welcome and celebrated one nonetheless.

As time passed and your visits to him grew more frequent, you began to see why Jack relied on Kureha so much. The doctor wasn’t just a pretty face, his medical prowess truly was top notch and he did an excellent job helping you monitor your health and kept you in good shape. His guidance and diagnosis were always spot on and easy to understand, and he had a way with words that made you comprehend his medical jargon without leaving you feeling like a dummy. It was by far the best medical assistance you had ever received, and you decided that should you one day be magically rid of Jack’s influence, it would be worth it to still seek out Kureha for any pending health concerns, even if it meant risking running into your brute of a captor.

But Doctor Kureha was not a gynecologist, and above all, he was a man. Why Jack, someone who was so painstakingly territorial of you, would pick a male to do this particular task was lost to you. Every OBGYN you had visited in the past had been a female doctor, and you honestly sort of preferred it that way. And though you voiced this to Jack, he remained adamant that since Kureha was already aware of your medical history, he was more than capable of taking care of this as well.

A nagging voice inside your brain kept telling you the REAL reason he was so bent on Kureha doing this procedure was to negate the risk it involved. Even if Kureha brought in another doctor who had reproductive health as their area of expertise, a doctor Kureha himself could vouch for that would keep their mouth shut, it was just too precarious of a situation for Jack’s liking. Any outside source that got up close and personal with your most abused area would realize instantly what Jack had been subjugating you to and their conscious could compel them to do something. The last thing Jack wanted was someone trying to play hero, and since Kureha had already seen the rest of the damage on your body and not said a word, it meant he was just as likely to stay silent when encountering the extent of defilement that had been inflicted on your more private areas.

You figured Jack and Kureha had some form of agreement between the two of them, that no matter how battered you came in to his office, nothing would be reported. You were not privy to the details of this agreement, nor did you know how formal it was. All you knew was that Kureha was always there to patch you up, keep you together, and offer a kind word or two, but he never made a move to try and remove you from the situation. No matter how perilous the aftermath appeared or how much your friendship progressed, he stayed in his lane and turned a blind eye to what mattered most.

So while you appreciated Kureha, you also realized you could never fully trust him.

“Well here we are again.”

Kureha’s entrance tore you from your thoughts, your eyes instantly darting to the stately man as he closed the door softly behind him. Looking as immaculate as ever, Kureha greeted Jack with a small nod before turning to you with a smile, which you reciprocated in kind. You couldn’t help but note the small scowl that sat upon Jacks lips, no doubt brought on by the familiarity the two of you shared.

“It’s good to see you again (Name),” he spoke as he made his way over to the seat beside you, waking up his computer so that he could access your medical records. “How long has it been? At least two days? That must be a new record.”

“Very funny,” Jack cut in, completely unamused by Kureha’s light teasing. He straightened his posture as much as the small room would allow, shooting the doctor a wry look. “We came here for a procedure, not your quips.”

Kureha sighed, “Of course, forgive me for trying to lighten the mood.” Turning his attentions back your way, he gave you another smile, “’Quips’ aside, how have you been feeling (name)? It really hasn’t been that long since our last appointment, was there anything particular that sparked the need for this visit today, or…?”

His voice trailed off, as he was already well aware this meeting was most likely not of your own choosing, but another of Jack’s heavy handed assertions. You squirmed on the medical chair, the protective paper beneath your rear irritating the bare flesh it came in contact with.

Before you could open your mouth to respond, Jack spoke on your behalf.

“She is fine,” his words were clipped and to the point, “As stated, we came here for a simple procedure as part of a routine check-up. I think we would both appreciate it if you just got on with it.”

“Yes, I am sure you would,” Kureha scoffed, slight irritation reflected in his voice, “But I was not addressing you Jack, I was asking (Name). And contrary to your beliefs, she will have a more accurate synapsis of what is going on with her own body than you will.”

Jack huffed, puffing up his chest in indignation. But he remained silent, promptly shut up by Kureha’s firm statement. For that alone you could kiss him.

“I’m feeling alright,” you respond simply, “the same as always, more or less... I don’t mean to be rude Dr. Shinogi, but this time Jack is right. I am kind of in a hurry to get this over with.” You frowned, repositioning yourself on the crinkly paper seat once more. “These kinds of visits aren’t my favorite.”

A blush crept on your cheeks as you spoke the words, embarrassed by your own admission. As if this whole ordeal wasn’t invasive enough, you also couldn’t avoid the fact that this was one of your least favorite medical procedures of all time.  Spreading yourself open for the whole world to see, perched on an uncomfortable chair while you awkwardly draped yourself across its stiff foamy surface, feet held back in stirrups as a doctor scraped away at your insides haphazardly, none of it was an enjoyable experience for you. The mere thought made you want to clamp your legs shut and scuttle out of the office, bee lining it straight back to the train station. You never thought you would long for the solitude of Jacks stuffy abode, but there was a first time for everything.

It also didn’t help that Jack refused to budge, adamant he stick around for the whole procedure. Knowing that he would be in the room, looming in the background as he bore witness to the whole excruciating ordeal, just made it THAT much worse.

Kureha acknowledged you with a hum, “Well if it’s any reassurance, I plan to make this as painless and as quick as possible. I can’t imagine that any of this is particularly pleasant for you, so I can understand where your reservations are coming from.”

He turned to Jack, shooting him a knowing look, “And though I am beyond confident in my doctoral abilities, I would like to remind the intrusive party in this room that this particular request is not my area of expertise. I will be efficient and gentle with miss (Name), but I may lack the accuracy of an expert in the field. Disclaimer aside, I would appreciate it if back seat commentary is kept to a minimum.”

“As long as you don’t waste any time and do the job well, you won’t be giving me a reason to voice any complaints,” Jack’s clipped voice threatened, “Now, can we begin please?”

Kureha’s eyes met yours, “Whenever you are ready, place our feet in the stirrups. We’ll proceed from there.”

Taking a deep breath to ground yourself, your shaky legs parted, granting Kureha access so that the procedure could begin. His large hands guided your legs into the holsters with ease, and he shot you one last reassuring smile before he grabbed his tools.

“I’d offer you a blanket for some privacy,” Kureha’s kept his voice low to keep the conversation between the two of you, “But our guest made it abundantly clear that he wanted to see what I am doing at all times. I apologize.”

You gave a curt nod, acknowledging his apology as earnest, but also realizing the good doctor had done nothing but enable Jack’s uncouth behavior this entire time. Not that it mattered at this point, all you could pray was that he at least remained true to his promise of speed and efficiency.

“Just hurry up. Please.”

With no further prodding, Kureha set to work. You cringed as you felt cold steel begin to spread you, your discomfort mounting when his tools entered shortly after. Jack pushed himself off the wall, stepping closer so that he could get a better view of what was being done to your body. Bending down so he could monitor Kureha’s actions accordingly, you squeezed your eyes tightly closed, refusing to add Jack’s beady, unwavering stare to your torment.

As warned, Kureha was not as skilled in this field as you would have liked. His typically nimble fingers seemed to fumble with the tools in hand, the prodding and clawing at your delicate insides causing tears to spring to your eyes. In an effort to keep from crying out you bit into your bottom lip, gnawing at the reddened flesh to quiet yourself. However squeaks of discomfort still managed to slip from your throat, sharp intakes of breath punctuating his hasty motions. Sweaty fists balled around the gaudy surgical gown, tugging it so roughly you could feel the fabric give under the strain. A particularly rough jerk of Kureha’s hand sent a wave of pain through you, your whimpers becoming a full on groan. Reflexively your legs tried to snap shut, your body subconsciously trying to push itself as far from the doctor as you could get, inching up the table in an effort to escape.

“You’re hurting her.

Jack’s growl cut through the air, an edge to it warning Kureha to watch himself. Kureha clicked his tongue, shooting a quick look over his shoulder.

“I wasn’t joking about the back seat commentary,” he retorted, “I’m aware of her irritation, hence why I am moving as fast as I can. I would advise against distracting me further to make the process as easy as possible for her,” he sighed deeply, fixing his attention back your way, “Besides, from the looks of things down here it’s clear she has suffered worse. I would even hazard the reason it hurts her so bad right now is in no small part your fault.”

Jack snarled, intense anger radiating from his presence as he leered over the doctor. It was obvious Kureha’s words had cut deep, the unspoken rule that he never judge Jack’s actions easily broken by his barbed statement. Finally turning your attention to Jack, you grimaced as your squinting eyes watched him open his mouth, primed to release a fiery retort.

“I’m fine,” your sharp voice interrupted their banter, words strained as they were forced from your clenched jaw, “Please, please, just hurry up.”

Kureha’s expression shifted, a softer look flitting across his features as your plea dragged him back to the matter at hand, “I apologize (Name), that was childish way to respond, please forgive me. We are nearly done. Please just hang in there a moment longer.”

True to his words, after a few quick swipes (all of which when executed brought about varying degrees of soreness), the procedure concluded.  You had never been happier to close your legs in your entire life (and given your life’s circumstances, that was saying something).

“And we’re done,” Kureha exhaled, quickly clearing his tools away. He shot you a quick smile as he got to his feet, “You did very well, (Name). I’m sorry my touch wasn’t the softest this go-around, but I appreciate what a good sport you were through the entire procedure. You may bleed for a bit afterwards, which is quite normal. Though it may be hard for the two of you, try and lay off any strenuous activity to the area for at least a day or two, alright?”

A bright blush illuminated your cheeks the moment the words left his lips. Whether he meant them to be or not, they felt mocking and derisive, and hearing them left you feeling as if you were both an ill-tempered child who no one expected to make it through such a procedure with so little fuss, and some manner of sex-crazed harlot that couldn’t go a day without getting any.

“You sure love to talk, don’t you?” Jacks gruff voice chided, making it apparent that Kureha’s loaded words still bothered him. The air between the two of them remained charged with a bristling, negative energy, but with the ordeal finally over with, Jack’s rage was slightly beginning to subside. No doubt he was just pleased that he could finally take you home and have you all to himself. “Are you such an accusatory smartass to all your patients?”

“Just the ones I really like,” Kureha shot him a smug grin, causing Jack’s jaw to clench, “but I am serious. Definitely no sexual activity tonight and tomorrow as well, if you can stand it.”

Kureha reached out his hand, placing it firmly atop your head, giving it a small scrub. “And I mean it when I said you did well. I couldn’t have asked for a better patient! If I had a lollipop or something to give you right now to congratulate you, I most certainly would.”

He laughed at his own joke, but the sound of it only caused your ego to suffer more.

Curling in on yourself to hide your vulnerable state, you shook your head to dispel Kureha’s unwanted attention. Your words came out icy as you shot the two men an equally chilling look. “I don’t need hollow praise, I just need some privacy so I can change back into my normal clothes.” When both men refused to budge, instead staring at you blankly with wide eyes suggesting your frosty demeanor shocked them, you sighed in annoyance, “Please?”

Kureha was the first to comply, turning on his heel to briskly head towards the exit. On his way out, he motioned towards jack, signaling him to follow. “Come on Jack, it’s rude to make a lady beg.”

Jack hesitated a moment before following suit, his hulking form stopping momentarily in the door way to address you one final time.

“Just be quick about it. I want to get you out of here and back home as quickly as possible.”

Hopping to your feet, you made your way over to your rumpled clothing that sat discarded on one of the uninviting metal waiting room chairs. You rolled your eyes as you snatched them up, impatiently waiting for Jack to step away so you could finally get out of the thin gown that covered you.

“You and me both,” you murmured under your breath, stuffing your lower half into your pants as fast as physically possible, “If I never have to go through this again, it would be too soon.”

~

You were thankful that the train was nearly empty when you boarded it, making it easy to find a space in the back that was far removed from other passengers. Though you would typically revel in this opportunity to be amongst other people, right now the only thing you wanted was to be left alone.

The office was not terribly far from where you lived, so Jack usually opted to walk to the hospital instead of taking any transport. But today’s trip had worn you out and left you feeling sore and irritable, so while  he wasn’t thrilled by the prospect of public transportation (too many eyes on you he’d say, even though it was his stature that drew the true attention), in an act of mercy he offered the train as a means of getting home. Of course he had offered to just carry you home first, but the look you gave him at the suggestion was enough to wise him up, bringing up the train as a happy alternative. Thankful to finally have a place to sit and enjoy some quiet for a moment, the tension in your body began to lessen, and you felt as if at least momentarily you could begin to relax.

… At least, you wished you could relax. Jack’s towering form, which was already a suffocating presence in and of itself, was even more smothering as he sat directly beside you. You were wedged in between him and the window, his broad shoulders and spread legs cramping your already limited space. If his bouncing leg and repeated exhales weren’t enough of a giveaway that something was bothering him, the muscled arms petulantly crossed over his chest and a deep set scowl on his face as he shot you numerous hurried glances really brought the fact home.

At first you tried to ignore him, but as the minutes ticked by it became clear to you he wasn’t going to bring up the issue himself, nor was he going to drop the matter and leave you be. This left you with no other choice besides confrontation.

“What is it,” the irritation was clear in your voice as you questioned him. “This whole adventure was your idea, and now it’s bothering you? If you hated the outcome so much, why make me go?”

“I didn’t hate the outcome,” he responded, shifting a bit in his seat as he cleared his throat, “It was a necessary procedure and I am glad we had it done. I’m pleased that you seem more or less healthy down there.”

You scoffed at Jack’s interpretation of Kureha’s assessment of the damage his ‘love’ had done to your body, a reaction he chose to ignore as he continued, “But still, I guess maybe I did have my concerns.”

“…Concerns?”

 You perked up, taken aback by his words. The way he spoke them sounded borderline remorseful,  as if being faced with the irrefutable proof of how violently he has treated you, witnessing firsthand the lasting injury his careless assaults have caused and the suffering that has come with it, began to open his eyes. Could he finally be feeling remorse? Could this day of suffering and embarrassment truly have ended up having such a silver lining?

Several agonizing seconds passed as you hung on baited breath, excited for the first time in a long time to hear what Jack had to say.

“It’s just…” His voice trailed off for moment, his expression contorting in a display of varying emotions, musing over how to word his response. After another brief moment of silence he continued with a sigh, tripping over his tense words awkwardly, as if he were embarrassed to speak them.

“It’s just that when he was working on you … Well, the expressions you made when he was going inside of you… They were the same ones you sometimes make when we are making love, so I was concerned maybe you were, you know… enjoying it.”

As you noted the barely perceptible blush that flushed Jacks cheeks throughout his explanation, you didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. Internally screaming, you chided yourself. What a fool you were, thinking you may actually be receiving an honest apology from this man.

Anger began to creep over you, causing your body to slightly quake. You grimaced as his words stewed in your head, the absurdity of his misconception causing your world to spin. Of course you would be making the same expression when he fucked you as you did at the doctors office- the extreme and unwanted discomfort from either act was one in the same. Only an idiot like Jack would come to the conclusion that your face was contorted in a look of ecstasy instead of the agony you were actually experiencing, lying there spread eagle on the doctors table while you were being chiseled away at.

“No Jack,” you spat at him, seething words to match the daggers shooting from your eyes, “I did not fucking get off at my gyno appointment when Kureha was shoving clamps and other utensils up inside my body, picking away at my innards so he could get tissue samples. Sorry to let you down, but it wasn’t really my idea of a sexy encounter, asshole.”

As you were about to boil over with barely contained rage, you mirrored Jack by crossing your arms, doing your best to hold yourself together as you averted your gaze from him. Keeping things civil was tremendously hard, but you were smart enough to realize causing a scene in public would in no way help you right now.

After several moments of silence had passed, your eyes flicked to Jack’s reflection in the mirror, hoping to gauge his emotional state after your tempestuous outburst. He typically didn’t take kindly to your attitude, especially when it was coupled with name calling. Surely the venom you spewed wouldn’t be taken sitting down, and while the thought of an angry Jack usually terrified you, today you couldn’t make yourself care. In fact, you hoped your small tantrum HAD upset him, wanting him to feel a smidge of the pain he forced you through daily. You may not be able to ever harm Jack physically, but if there was one thing you did have power over, it was his feelings. Despite his tough persona, you were acutely aware that any malice you directed his way wounded him, causing him more grief than he would ever willingly state. And you suspected that this display of your lividity was the perfect attack to take him down a few pegs.

But surprise took you when your eyes landed on his likeness, seeing that instead of an angry glower or wounded frown, a content smile sat upon his lips. His tensed shoulders had relaxed, his entire posture now much more poised and at ease as he sat next to you. He even lazily draped an arm over the back of your seat, his fingers idily stretching out to play with any rogue strands of your hair they brushed against.

“Good,” he spoke pleasantly, “Glad to know I have nothing to worry about. I’ll just have to work harder next time to make you really lose yourself, so you can show me expressions only I will ever see. That way there will be no confusion in the future.”

Your frown deepened as the shit eating grin spreading across his lips grew. It seemed that this time, as always, Jack had won.

“Of course we’ll have to wait a day or two for me to hone my skill, which is unfortunate. But look at the bright side baby, gives me time to come up with some new ideas that will really drive you wild, right?”

God you hated him.

#baki x reader #baki the grappler x reader #jack hanma x reader #jack hanma x y/n #yandere jack hanma #yandere jack hanma x y/n #yandere jack hanma x reader #yandere baki the grappler #yandere baki the grappler x reader #yandere baki the gappler x y/n #yandere x reader #yandere fic #yandere x y/n #dark fic #I need to write more for Kureha tbh #would certainly be a shame if the pretty doctor man took too much of a liking to Jack's gal #and began to make moves on her or something idk that would be horrible wouldnt it??? #tee hee #anyway thank you for reading sorry if it was weird I had a moment lul #love you all!!! thank you!!! mwah!!! #mothwingswritings

[unteriors-in-house-flipper-2]

Im so curious to know what your process is. Do you use math to map out the lengths of things from the image or do you just kinda feel it out?

at first i just eyeballed it, but for the past few 'builds' ive started putting more effort into matching the composition! its a lot of trial and error cause im an artist so i dont have a great way of exactly determining things, but this is how ive started recently:

i mostly slap the reference image on a canvas the same size/aspect ratio as my game window, then use the perspective ruler tool in Clip Studio Paint to trace the main structure of the room. i then deform grids (corresponding to the 20cm cubes that walls in hf2 are made of) onto the walls and floors to try and estimate the dimensions. i know that walls are usually around 2.5m tall and all doors in hf2 are 2m tall, so i make sure to match those to the grid and see how the rest lines up.

this process is very imprecise and small changes can make a huge difference cause i'm just extrapolating things. often i cant get the in-game grid to line up quite right with my "measurements" (because of lens distortion? rounding errors? the ruler tool doesn't guarantee perfect squares/cubes? still figuring it out) but i CAN use it to determine the height and approximate location in the room the picture was taken! from there i can start taking screenshots and overlaying them onto the reference image to trial-and-error my way to the closest FOV and to start making more precise adjustments to the size of the room and such

for example: in the littleton north carolina uh. anime den. the grid on the floor wasn't quite right, and i ended up having to make the room 1 block narrower on both sides. the doorway between the two rooms and the diagonal wall also needed some adjusting!

in the end i cant get it to be perfect, but i really enjoy trying to match the basic structure of the room as much as i can!

(also to make sure i take screenshots from the same space, i place down a kitchen cabinet for inner corners to back myself into, and then place a tiny clothing hook on the wall in the location my cursor has to be. i temporarily delete the hook to take screenshots and then just ctrl+z it when i'm done lol)

#not an interior #behind the scenes

[magpod-confessions]

i am enjoying tmagp so far but one criticism i have of it is how fast paced it is already. like SO MANY things are happening at once! i don’t mind character-driven stories and i obviously don’t expect tmagp to be exactly like tma but like.. please slow down a little, my brain is so tiny and it can only process so much information at once 😭

joking aside though, i do think it’s a genuine flaw. fast-paced stories can be done effectively but it should be done in a way where it doesn’t come off as overwhelming. already i feel like the fandom is forgetting quite a few things mentioned in some of the earlier episodes because of how much is going on in each episode. we got sam trying to uncover his past, celia possibly being from another dimension, sam and alice’s strained relationship, sam’s and celia’s new relationship, colin being paranoid as fuck and being put on mental health leave, the whole thing with gwen and lena and mr bonzo, concerns about employees being unable to effectively quit OIAR… and we’re only 14 episodes in!!

they just cram in new information every episode and while they are all very interesting INDIVIDUALLY, it’s really hard to keep up with everything, least of all the statements. two minutes into the episode, i’m unable to focus on the statement because my brain is still processing the conversations that happened prior to it.

maybe it’s just a me problem. i enjoyed tma so much because of its slow descent into horror and lore. because it took its sweet time doing the world building first while giving us bits of character information, before fully going into the character dynamics and interpersonal conflict. it felt a lot more compelling and a lot more easier to keep up with. (also i’m not too fond of the whole love triangle thing that’s going on currently in tmagp, but that’s definitely a subjective thing. i was never a fan of unnecessary drama when it comes to romance.) 🗣️

Yea I get this. I am so so lost and ik things will get answered eventually but oh boy its so hard to keep up with everything

#magpod #tmagp #the magnus protocol #magpod confession #🗣

[lunchtimebedamned1997]

Alastor Painting Experiment :3

(Timelapse and other stuff under the cut)

I'm really happy with this, all things considered! I gave myself a couple of little challenges when it came to this painting:

Try to make something unsettling! I usually go for - heh - less unsettling and more fluff (?) in my art (even my Radiosilence comic that is - not strictly... pleasant lmao - is still just more angst than creepy, yk?)

I wanted to keep things really loose! Focus more on vibes than 'rules'. Not worrying about if it has an internal 'logic' as to how i painted it (as opposed to sketch -> cleanup/lineart -> color)

To play more with non-traditional lighting like glowing eyes, teeth, and stitches; glitchy bg that doesn't contribute to the lighting on Al but still 'works' aesthetically, etc.

No deleting lines. I could paint over things, but I couldn't sit there finessing everything within an inch of its life. (This goes back to the keeping it loose thing)

I wanted this piece to be really experimental and outside of my usual process. I really like what I've been making lately, but especially towards the end of making my mini comic I felt so stiff. Moreso mentally than anything else. Trying to keep things that consistent was really hard for me XD Not to mention I feel like the best way I've found to improve, is fighting through the discomfort of new-ness and moving past the fear of something 'not turning out good' to just see what happens. That's something I've been embracing a lot this year, and I've seen more of an improvement in my art over the last six months than the six YEARS before that.

I'm not usually a horror fan (I like my horror Buffy-ified, pls and thank you! XD) (AKA: Mixed with other genres and not too graphic (for those who havent seen BtVS)) but something about how fucking unsettling Al is - is like... weirdly cathartic???? This whole fucking show is cathartic. I - yeah. Anyway Al's magic looks cool and I wanted to make art about it again bc I didn't get to play with it as much as I would have liked to in my comic bc I was so pressed for time.

Here's a closeup of the face bc I LOVE the details and textures here. I switched to CSP right before starting this tumblr, and I'm still just so blown away by how great the brushes are???? I had to fight so fucking hard to get anything to look good in Photoshop. These just??? Work as intended??? Like its intuitive????? Fucking lovely lmao

Anyways, here's the speedpaint! Mwah <3

#my art #digital art #fanart #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel fanart #hellaverse fanart #alastor #alastor fanart #hazbin hotel alastor #alastor the radio demon #speedpaint

[starfxkr]

Would you say jj is still somehow in love with kie but still feels resentful of how she did him ? Like he still has feelings for her but also lowkey hates her for what she did? And would tp reader get pissed at him because why are u sulking if ur not in love with her no more? This is how I think it would go down tbh

jj has a lot of unresolved feelings about their like 2 year marriage because she just up and left when he got arrested for her, in many ways he never moved on because nobody ever really let him? he was never allowed to go through the grieving process so yeah he does still have love for her but that resentment is always bubbling and a lot of that is why he was known for never committing to a relationship and not even letting women spend the night.

this makes your relationship hit like. its main point of contention like fuck everything else but the way he mopes and sulks when kie's back on the island is not the same intensity in which he moped and sulked for you (in your perspective anyways. the month you left he deadass didn't get off the couch, didn't eat and was sustained on nothing but beer and air. he didn't even shower). and jj tries telling you its different but he doesnt explain why. at the core of it what he feels about kie coming back is mostly anger and resentment, what he felt when you left was an overwhelming emptiness.

because when kie left there was literally nothing of her remaining, not even a sock in the hamper. when you left you were still all around him. that bred two completely different emotional responses but you don't quite understand that because all you saw whenever jj acted out over you was him fucking other women. kie's been gone for 2 decades and he's acting like she left last week.

#✨.txt #jj maybank prompt #trailer park!jj

[mariacallous]

For nearly a half-century, there was a single factor, a single raison d’être, at the heart of the entire Soviet project. But it wasn’t fanning communist revolution or even spreading Marxist Leninism itself. Rather, it was—as Sergey Radchenko argues in To Run the World, his new, more than 600-page doorstopper on the Soviet leaders’ views during the Cold War—something far simpler, and far more universal: prestige.

That is, instead of pursuing anti-capitalist ends or even pro-communist alliances, Soviet leadership found itself propelled primarily by the pursuit of status and stature, from late Stalinism all the way through Mikhail Gorbachev’s final days.

It’s a bold reformulation of the entire Soviet standoff, and one that would be nearly unrecognizable to most of those who lived through the Cold War. But Radchenko, a history professor at Johns Hopkins University specializing in Sino-Soviet history, at least recognizes the stakes of such a reformulation.

He admits at the outset of To Run the World that his argument is a “radical new interpretation of the underlying motivations of Soviet foreign policy”—a massive, almost encyclopedic effort to slog through the sloganeering about Leninism and class warfare to get to what, at heart, motivated Soviet leadership through the apocalyptic heights and sudden denouement of the Cold War. Moscow believed “that the Soviet Union for one reason or another deserved its high perch in the global order,” Radchenko writes. “Being recognized by others as legitimately occupying this perch was a central preoccupation of Soviet foreign policy from Stalin to Gorbachev.”

There’s certainly merit to the argument, as Radchenko unflinchingly details throughout the book. The product of a decade’s worth of work translating archival material in places such as Moscow and Beijing, Radchenko’s read provides unparalleled insights into the Soviet leadership’s decision-making processes. Not only has it surpassed anything yet written, but given the archival access that Radchenko obtained—and the fact that such access has disintegrated in the face of President Vladimir Putin’s return to a totalitarian Russia—this book will also likely be the standard-bearer for years, and potentially decades, to come.

And, in many ways, rightfully so—though not necessarily for the reasons that Radchenko argued. The book advances an argument about Soviet leaders’ political motivations. But if anything, it is Radchenko’s psychological excavation of figures including Nikita Khrushchev, Leonid Brezhnev, and Gorbachev himself—their intentions, their ignorance, their ignominies—that not only separates this book from any others assessing Soviet strategy during the Cold War, but also reframes the entire Cold War itself.

Indeed, it is these potted biographies of the Soviet premiers that provide Radchenko’s most successful interventions in how the West still understands the history of the Cold War. While all three leaders have flattened into two-dimensional characters over the past few decades—Khrushchev the screw-loose screamer, Brezhnev the mildewing statesman, Gorbachev the thwarted reformer—Radchenko recreates their worlds, looking especially at how their own psychological tics structured Soviet strategy overall.

There is, for instance, the groundbreaking work Radchenko has done on unearthing Khrushchev’s decision-making in the lead-up to the Cuban missile crisis. Instead of U.S. weakness providing an opening for Khrushchev to pepper Cuba with nuclear weapons, as is popularly remembered in the West, Radchenko traces Khrushchev’s moves to a fear of a renewed U.S. invasion of the island.

And understandably so; not only was the Bay of Pigs fiasco fresh in Moscow’s minds, but American influence and infiltration of the island also had, at that point, a decadeslong pedigree. In Khrushchev’s mind, shipping nuclear weapons to Cuba was never about pressing Soviet advantages in the Caribbean—but about impeding the United States’ pending reinvasion.

And in Khrushchev’s mind, the gambit arguably succeeded. Not only did the Americans refrain from any invasion redux, but Khrushchev convinced the White House to remove its Jupiter missiles from Turkey, restoring a semblance of parity to both superpowers’ nuclear capabilities. Khrushchev’s gamesmanship may have brought the world closer to a nuclear Armageddon than ever before (and potentially after)—but, in many ways, it was a gamble that redounded to Khrushchev’s benefit, at least in the short term. (Along the way, Radchenko also makes sure to reinforce Khrushchev’s colorful, even off-kilter communication, such as when he frothed to the Albanian defense minister, “You will be spat at in the Soviet Union and you will drown in spit!”)

Of course, Khrushchev’s blush with the apocalypse hardly assured others in the Kremlin that he was the stabilizing force required for the era. An internal putsch soon placed Brezhnev in power, and his so-called Brezhnev Doctrine brought a range of the Soviet Union’s most striking victories, not least in thwarting reforms in places such as Czechoslovakia.

But it is in widening the Cold War’s aperture—moving far beyond the checkpoints in Berlin or the tanks in Prague—that makes Radchenko’s work on Brezhnev stand out. Rather than the stale, staid leader of memory, Brezhnev’s nimbleness as Soviet premier shines through in his efforts in Asia, in relations with both Beijing and Hanoi. Radchenko’s beat-by-beat navigation of Brezhnev’s tactical decisions in the region, especially as the Vietnam War began splitting open, paints the Soviet premier in a far more flattering light than he’s otherwise been remembered.

Outflanking both China and the United States, Brezhnev saw arguably his greatest strategic victory on the beaches and battlefields of South Vietnam, at least in terms of expanding Soviet interests. (Not that the Americans necessarily made it difficult; as a perplexed Brezhnev once said, “I just can’t figure it out: have the Americans become so stupid that they can’t understand that bombs will not solve the Vietnamese problem?”)

Nor is it just Brezhnev’s strategic successes that Radchenko recovers. It’s also his rote racism—and how that racism, rampant among Soviet leadership, played a role in the Sino-Soviet split. “Brezhnev’s depictions of China and the Chinese were shockingly racist,” Radchenko writes, pointing to Brezhnev’s claims that the Chinese were “treacherous,” “exceptionally sly,” and brimming with “perfidy” and “hypocrisy.” At one point, Brezhnev—who freely claimed the Soviet Union was a “European” country—claimed that Europe has the “most civilized society” in the world. Small wonder that Chinese leader Mao Zedong, in whispers behind Brezhnev’s back, would complain of Moscow’s tsarist-era annexations of swaths of traditional Chinese territory. “We have yet to settle this bill with them,” Mao menaced.

Brezhnev, of course, eventually shriveled—both physically and mentally—while the Kremlin squandered what geopolitical advantages it may have gained by its bungling into Afghanistan. By the mid-1980s, it was clear that the Soviet project was failing both within and without. Hence, the rise and reforms of Gorbachev—and, within a few years’ time, the dissolution of not only the Soviet empire, but the Soviet Union itself.

But as Radchenko retraces Gorbachev’s faltering, he also presents as useful corrective to Western remembrances of Gorbachev’s leadership and his legacy. While the former Soviet premier is broadly remembered, even celebrated, for a supposed aversion to violence, Radchenko surfaces a wealth of evidence to the contrary. While Gorbachev may have refrained from siccing tanks on protesters in Warsaw or Bucharest, he nonetheless led bloodied crackdowns on the Soviet populace itself, from Kazakhstan to Lithuania to Georgia, all in the name of shoring up the crumbling Soviet edifice.

And while he never went as far as his Chinese counterparts—not least Deng Xiaoping, who oversaw the slaughter of thousands of protesters at Tiananmen Square—Gorbachev let any pacifist mask slip when speaking about the Chinese crackdown. As Radchenko writes, when “presented with the evidence that the [Chinese] army massacred 3,000 students in Beijing, Gorbachev privately remarked: ‘We must be realists. They, like us, have to hold on. Three thousand… So what?’”

Radchenko’s interventions, be they personal or political, are all welcome, deepening our understanding of both the psychological and geopolitical contours of the Cold War. But the question remains: Was prestige really at the heart of the Soviet Union’s entire postwar project? The answer—disappointingly both for us and the book—is: It depends.

There were, to be sure, myriad instances in which prestige propelled the Kremlin’s decisions. The search for stature, the almost pathetic pleading for respect as a superpower, laces decisions ranging from Brezhnev’s calls for a Soviet-American “condominium” overseeing global affairs to Gorbachev’s at-times-unilateral push for arms reductions. But as the single force—as the central factor around which Soviet officials organized their latticework of decisions—prestige falters.

Go back, for instance, to the Cuban missile crisis mentioned above. While prestige may have played a role in Khrushchev’s initial decisions—especially when it came to wanting to be seen as the protector of nascent communist regimes in places such as Cuba—the end of the crisis illustrated that security concerns would, in the end, always trump prestige. Khrushchev ended the crisis with a clear tactical success, forcing the Americans to stand down from housing nuclear weapons in Turkey, strengthening Soviet security that much more. But the secrecy of the deal’s details meant that Khrushchev’s supposed pursuit of prestige was fatally undermined. Even Khrushchev recognized as much, with the Soviet premier “acutely aware of the blow to his global prestige,” Radchenko notes.

Or fast-forward a few decades, as the walls closed in on a flailing Gorbachev. While the final Soviet leader may have initially seen prestige as a foreign-policy motivator, by his latter years he’d clearly transformed into a figure who gave equal, if not greater, weight to regime security Cracking down on anti-regime protesters in a number of colonies agitating for independence, Gorbachev revealed himself as a leader happy to resort to violence if the Soviet Union’s internal colonies ever agitated for independence, regardless of the cost to his prestige in the West.

Still, while prestige may not be the most important tether tying the entire Soviet project together, Radchenko’s book does restore it to its proper place as one of a basket of factors undergirding Soviet decision-making.

If anything, elevating that search for prestige points the way to a far more interesting book, buried underneath Radchenko’s granular psychoanalysis. As Radchenko aptly frames, the Cold War was never one thing, catapulting one bloc against another. It was never even something you could properly boil down to capitalism versus communism. Rather, as Radchenko outlines, it’s perhaps better understood as capitalism versus communisms, with regimes such as Beijing and even Havana charting their own courses, refracting Soviet designs to pursue their own paths—and undercutting Soviet demands for prestige, and for recognition of status, in the process.

After all, arguably the single greatest Western success of the entire Cold War period—the Nixon administration’s peeling-off of China, gutting any Soviet pretensions to hegemony in Asia in the process—came as a direct result of Moscow’s pursuits of both prestige and power. Without the Soviet demands that China, as Khrushchev said, recognize the Kremlin as the “first fiddle” of the communist world, and without concomitant tensions and outright violence playing out from the Sino-Soviet border all the way down to Vietnam, Beijing never would have considered entreaties from the Americans. Thanks directly to the Soviet pretensions of superpower status, Beijing dove directly into U.S. arms.

The Soviets were, naturally, aghast at China’s lurch toward the United States. But that did little to deter Moscow from continuing to pursue the same kinds of prestige and power elsewhere—all of which, whether in the wastelands of Afghanistan or the walls in Berlin, ended up decimating not only the Kremlin’s pretensions to global status, but imploding the Soviet Union as a whole.

Khrushchev may have believed, perhaps correctly, that the Chinese were “haunted restlessly by the mania of greatness.” But it was the Soviet Union that was haunted by a search for both prestige and power—and that, in the end, ended up with neither.

[fearlessword]

I’ll meet you in my dreams

You dreamed of the boy who played piano before you knew who he was. Humming the melodies you heard in your sleep brought BTS into your life and you thought it was just meant to be.When you finally have the chance to see him perform live, you realize that the dreams you have are more than a coincidence. You hope he dreams of you too.

Chapter 1

Wake up. Teach. Eat. Plan. Overthink. Cry. Sleep.

Repeat.

You didn’t know how your life turned out to be like this. You hated it. You hated the city streets were empty. You hated that the principal kept watching each lesson just to criticize your teaching.You hated teaching online and how burned out you were because of it. You hated not being able to see your friends, or what’s left of them. You hated that fucking virus that postponed all of your plans. You hated how much you missed your cheating ex and that traitor you once called best friend.

Everything sucks in 2020.

At first, it seemed like it was just for a while, which also meant a good break before the craziness that came with Spring and the end of the school year. Two months after the government announced the quarantine, you were burned out, rethinking life choices, crying yourself to sleep because of a break up you thought you had moved on from. Your roommate and coworker Camila was the only good thing. She became a nice friend who could relate to you. Both of you were just two tired teachers trying to survive in New York City during a pandemic. The growing friendship you had made it bearable. When nights were especially hard for you and you’d sob and cry at 3 am, your friend wouldn’t say a thing, only to greet you with open arms, a mug of hot coffee, and a silent promise of ice cream and movies after dinner. You didn’t deserve it, considering you were the reason she’d wake up in the middle of the night, but she didn’t hold it against you, and you were grateful for that.

If you were being honest with yourself, you knew you shouldn’t be crying for a relationship that finished two years ago. It was hard not to, especially now that there wasn’t much, besides work, to keep you busy. It was the last week of May, Summer was just around the corner and you yearned for the joy the season brings. At the same time, shaking off the feelings that came with the isolation was not an easy feat. He cheated on you with your best friend, after all! You tell yourself he doesn’t deserve your tears, but it takes time to erase things like that.

You are lonely and confused, angry to feel the way you felt. Grieving the youth you’re giving away while staying at home. So, on that night of May, you did what you should’ve done 2 years ago. You got your blue journal, a pencil, bursted your earbuds with the saddest songs you could find, and for the first time in what felt like an eternity, you wrote.

The words spilled from your mind to the paper, a letter addressed to the one who made you feel like this. How you met, how you became friends, the moment you realized you loved him. The memories you wanted to erase flowing so easily through your hands. The story was kept in your head for so long, suffocating you a little bit every day, it was like you could exhale for the first time. How you missed this!

You were so focused on revisiting all of the moments to write, that you didn’t check the time. It was late, so late. And you needed to sleep now if you wanted to have energy for the long day of teaching you had ahead of you.

You checked the amount of words you’ve written. Seven pages. It was still just the beginning. Your eyes were red and wet and you got yourself a headache. As cathartic as it was to write like this, it had left you with zero to no energy to keep going. As you were embraced by your sleep, you wished the part of your brain that processed traumatic experiences just did its job.

That night, you dream of a man and a piano.

Not exactly a piano, it was more like a keyboard.

All you could see was that he was making music.

The room was compact, so much it didn’t look like a room. “Maybe he’s camping”, you thought. There was a bunk bed and a tiny table underneath it, which was where he was working with a yellow notepad and pencil positioned close to the laptop. His pale skin was in contrast with the black straight hair covering part of his face. Still, you were able to see some of his facial expressions. He was so concentrated in his craft, long fingers testing notes in the mini keyboard connected to his laptop.

You wish you could listen to the melody he is so focused on, he was clearly showing signs of conflict, while listening to it on his headphones. He throws his head back and breathes loudly, like he needs a break, the hair moves out of his face and you can see his eyes now. Deep, dark, catlike eyes.

Oh God. He 's beautiful.

You could feel a pull, an inexplicable warmth inside of you… You were curious about him. You were curious about the circumstances. Why were you consciously dreaming about a man you have never seen in your life? Why aren’t you in this dream? How could he fascinate you so much in minutes?

A door opens and there’s light in the room. You hear a voice speaking a language you don’t understand. You hear a deep voice, his voice, replying in the same language. Then, everything goes black.

You were pulled out of the dream, eyes open, back in your room, but with remains of the comforting warmth inside of you.

It stayed with you the whole day, just like the memory of the boy making music.

That night, the crying is not that loud, your writing process still hard, but not unbearable.

You were still tired, still heartbroken. The routine was the same.

But there was that warm feeling in your chest. And as your head touches the pillow in the middle of the night, you hope to dream of him again.

>>> Next Chapter

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