#I feel like I might just cringe and click away from it tho

[transthatfag]

damnnn.. am I about to start watching the faggoty vampire show...

[woundlingus]

Sabriel in the 70s conversation pit (my second most recent reblogged post)

In news I’m sure will horrify you as requester and everyone else who knows me for my horny niche, I actually made fluff with feelings- they get a fade to black tho so know in your heart that they fuck gross and nasty

Short sabriel fluff, misunderstandings and feelings under the cut ❤️

“Welp, this is me.”

Sam hovered just behind as Gabriel slipped a key into a lock that looked like it was just about ready to rust and fall apart, sure he was going to have to kick the door in and give the neighbours all something to call the cops about, but by some miracle the key still turned within and clicked the old thing open, sending the door creaking itself open on uneven hinges.

“Make yourself… comfortable, I guess,” Gabriel told him, hovering in the doorway as he watched a world he no longer lived in come to life with the flick of the lights.

Faded orange carpet, green walls, a fucking disco ball. Movie posters on the wall for some obscenely sexualised horror movie with the final girl splayed out in the monsters arms, and a boxy tv on one of those rounded tables.

It was seventies in a way Sam had never been old enough or rich enough to experience firsthand, his encounter with it was mostly floral wallpapers in motels, and the playboy magazine that used to be Dean’s that he’d stolen, which might have even been John’s that Dean had stolen first, which was… a lot grosser now that he was old enough to think about it.

The tables were red, the counter tops were red, the chair seats were red- none of it worked together, which in its own gauche way seemed to work. If Sam had to conjure an image of where the trickster might reside, he might very well conjure this very image. It was enough to make him want to laugh, at the predictability, at the cliche, at the almost vulgar way Gabriel had set up an apartment to look like a set he could picture tall and tan oiled men pushing over blonde babysitters in what looked like a ‘sex pit’ of a living space sunken into the floor, all to the tune of Girls On Film.

It would be very funny, if that person still existed.

This had been a home, and yet Gabriel wandered around the furniture as though he were a stranger, afraid to touch any of it too much. He stuck out like a sore thumb in a space he would have blended in just a few years ago, instead he cringed away from the performance of fun and sexuality. Despite being a man of small stature Gabriel had always taken up a lot of space with a big presence, but here among relics of things he didn’t want or need anymore he just seemed so much more impossibly small; perhaps it was the way he refused to look up from his shoes, like if he raised his head to look at the world he used to fit into he might fall apart and he’d just managed to get himself together after so long, he’d only just gotten brave enough to let Sam drive him here and open up a time capsule from a life pre-hell.

“Thanks for doing this, by the way,” he called back to Sam as he wandered around barstools to get to the kitchen. “There shouldn’t be much to pack.”

“You want me to get started anywhere in particular-“ Sam started, watching Gabriel swing the fridge door open and then immediately slam it shut with absolute disgust. “We’re not bringing the fridge, huh?”

“Absolutely not, don’t open that if you value your life.”

He wandered off down toward a hallway, presumably where he’d find the bedroom and most of Gabriel’s personal possessions that he’d care about keeping, but the guy appeared right in front of him to cut him off from going any further.

“You uh, don’t wanna go in the bedroom until I clear some stuff out first either.”

Sam, with the roll of his eyes, “Gabriel, I’m a grown up. I don’t care if you have sex toys, just tell me which drawer and I’ll leave it alone.”

“It’s cute you think it’s a drawer. Don’t go in there.”

He didn’t know if it was better or worse not to know, not knowing saved him the potential trauma of seeing something he was not prepared to know about his only very recently offical boyfriend, but the not knowing left his mind running rampant with ideas that were probably a lot more dramatic than the reality hidden behind the door- he just thought he deserved a heads up beforehand if Gabriel needed to put him in a little cage with a tail in his ass in order to get off.

“Well, is there anything I can touch?”

He hadn’t meant to, but it had been a long drive and he was tired, and it left an air of shortness to his question. He was tired, Gabriel had asked him to come all the way out here and now he wasn’t even allowed to touch- it almost always felt like Gabriel didn’t want to make space for him, and that wasn’t entirely fair to say when he knew this was hard, but it was hard too to be guarded away from bubble wrapping lava lamps like it was all sacred ground of a better life before he was stuck with Sam.

“Please don’t be mad at me.”

And it’s all over just like that, before it can even start. With the mighty archangel Gabriel, pulling at his fingers, lip wobbling like he was waiting to be yelled at. Punished. Put in his place.

Again, frustrating, especially when neither of them were wrong, and neither of them could help it.

He throws his hands up in defeat, and follows the stairs down into the sunken lounge space to find a seat to bide his time, “Fine. Let me know when you’re done.”

“I don’t know what I did,” Gabriel said, following him down like a little mouse. “If I did something wrong you have to tell me.”

It felt silly trying to find the words to lay it out so bare and plain, that surrounded by gaudy riches Sam felt insecure. Insecure about the kind of life he could provide someone like Gabriel- something like Gabriel. An archangel; a god; a playboy. What could a poor man who was too scared of loud noises and had a bad back provide for the likes of him when what Gabriel enjoyed most was luxury in excess and being the center of a party? How many others had passed through the door, how many lovers had he shared a bedspace Sam wasn’t allowed to enter? What kind of a life was it for a social butterfly to live buried under the earth with Sam and his only friends- his older brother, and Gabriel’s brother; who were basically obligated to be his friend based on principle. Sam wasn’t fun, his idea of fun was being left alone for a solid fifteen hours to get a really good sleep and maybe jerk off without having to wonder if Dean was going to kick in the motel door at any moment. That’s who Gabriel was saddling himself with, a man who was thirty seven and still needed to sleep with his big brother in the room lest he have bad dreams, he couldn’t even give him a motel room to fuck in.

But Gabriel could do all those things if he really wanted to now that he’d gained a little more strength back, and if it’s what made him happy then it’s what would make Sam happy, because what really made him happy was Gabriel! But hadn’t, not even once, tried to allow Sam into any part of his life. It was all grand tales of mighty conquests and high speed chases, and none of the actual living- at least, not with Sam. Maybe Gabriel had another boyfriend, a better one that he saw on weekends when Sam was away hunting with Dean. One that was cool, and funny, and liked all of the things Gabriel liked…

Okay… now he’s just spinning out, so he has to say something before he creates a whole pretend man to get angry at.

“Why don’t you want me involved in your life?”

Gabriel stared at him hard for a good long minute, long enough for Sam to flush a deep shade of red with embarrassment.

“Never mind-“

“You are my life.”

Gabriel says it so matter of factly that it’s now Sam’s turn to sit there gobsmacked and staring, and while it makes his heart swell a little he isn’t quite sure he believes fully that Gabriel wasn’t saying that just to shut him up.

“I don’t think you understand what I’m saying-“ Sam stopped and gestured at all of Gabriel’s things, “-This. Your life. Who you are. You never let me be a part of it, you never let me in.”

“This isn’t my life,” Gabriel said, an echo of exhaustion to his tone and the way he slumped into the tacky printed pillows. “This was a thing I did. I don’t let you be a part of it because I’m embarrassed. For whatever reason you’ve decided that you see something of worth in me, and I don’t want you free roaming my past and remembering I’m some kind of scumbag.”

“I don’t care that you were… very… sexually active, Gabriel.”

“This is about more than just the sex- this isn’t me! This life isn’t something I want to associate with you!”

A line of tension forms in Sam’s jaw as he snaps his mouth shut, but before he can glare and storm out, Gabriel continues.

“I’m building something new, something better with you. All of this is buried under a mountain of shit with Loki and what happened that I don’t want to begin to unpack, I just want to go! I don’t want you in here becoming tangled up with everything that feels so bad when you’re the only good thing I’ve got!”

Well, now he just feels stupid.

The shame must be visible all over his face because Gabriel scoots across the lounge to drag him in close, closing the distance first for Sam to the be able to put his arm around him.

“Right… sorry.”

Gabriel shrugged, “I don’t know what there is to be insecure about, it’s not like any of this was ever real.”

“It was though, even if it’s all tainted and bad now this was your life, and I can- I want to help you pack what you still love and bring it home. Pretending it’s not real isn’t going to fix anything, let me help you do this right. Say goodbye.”

There was a deep sigh from under Sam’s arm as Gabriel relented, whether he believed Sam’s quack science or not was up in the air but he’d do it anyway.

“Fine. You want to say goodbye to the house? I feel like the only appropriate way to say goodbye is the same way I said hello. To bring it full circle.”

“Sure,” Sam agreed before he knew what that meant, because all he heard was what sounded like Gabriel making healthy choices, and it wasn’t until the angel had straddled his lap that he understood just how he’d christened the house. “How many people have you screwed on this couch?”

“I mean, they call it the conversation lounge for the great many guests you can have all at once… I don’t know that we were doing much talking though.”

“Oh god…” Sam sighed and scrunched his nose up, trying not to focus too hard on the couch and if he felt any stiff spots beneath where he was sitting.

“Oh no, Sam. God was definitely not in the room when that was happening.”

“Oh, shut up,” Sam groaned and leaned in to kiss Gabriel before he could open his mouth with another disgusting comment, grinning into Gabriel’s throat at the playful shriek out his mouth as Sam toppled them over into the pillows, to give Gabriel a touch of something sweet to remember a chunk of his life by.

[marblemoovt]

I (Absolutely) Do (not) - Mondo Owada/Reader

Masterlist

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: None, just good ol’ fluff and angst (happy ending)

Summary:

Today's the big day. Today you're finally going to marry your fiancé.

Note:

I am currently posting a few of my old works from Wattpad onto ao3, and now tumblr! Keep in mind that most of these are probably a couple of years old. And while they might make me cringe, as old writing tends to do, I don't think I'll ever rewrite any of them due to sheer laziness. I hope you enjoy reading these tho!

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

The chime of the church bells startles you out of your thoughts. Today's the big day! Today you're finally going to marry your fiancé! After being engaged for more years than you can count, they agreed to picking a day and hosting a ceremony. The setting wasn't ideal. At first, you proposed a simple wedding with a few friends and family, but your fiancé insisted on something grander and more extravagant. So here you are, in a church, having a wedding with barely anyone you know on the guestlist --most of your friends had cancelled due to conflicting schedules.

Your fingers fidget, and it becomes increasingly difficult to not scrunch up the fabric of your wedding attire in your hands. Instead, you drum your fingers on the table in an anxious fit. A knock on your door sends a jolt through your heart, and you nearly fall off your seat. Rising from the chair, you hastily make your way to the door, hoping it's your fiance sneaking away to see you.

"How's it goin', Soon-to-be partner of F/n?" a familiar voice says, throwing your hopes into the dumpster. (F/n stands for your fiancé's name. Forgive me for the awkward term usage. It's very difficult to find a gender-neutral term for relationships/marriage.)

"Mondo?" You open the door to reveal a dressed up Mondo in his snazzy white biker outfit. He never wears those clothes unless it's a special occasion or he's kicking some ass. "You certainly look fetching today, Mondo," you snicker to yourself.

"Hey! Don't laugh at me! I was told that ya gotta wear white to a wedding," he grumbles, refusing to admit to his blunder. You stare at him, waiting for some sort of punchline, but this is Mondo we're talking about, and he rarely jokes around.

"Traditionally, wearing white is something the bride does. Not to say that other people can't wear white, but often it's the bride who has to wear white."

"Oh..."

"But honestly! You look great in white! It really, um, accentuates your manliness?" You grin and shoot him a couple of finger guns in an attempt to wipe the unamused frown that's starting to settle on his face. He sighs and pinches the bridge of his nose.

"It's a miracle you're getting married, ya know that?" His words make you sputter, and you slap his shoulder half-heartedly.

"I know, I know. Someone like me settling down seems impossible-"

"No, dumbass. I'm talkin' 'bout how you're gettin' married after being engaged for so long. I thought I was gonna have to pummel some sense into that piece of shit." Mondo interrupts you to prevent any misunderstanding, flicking your forehead. You pout and ruffle his pompadour in retaliation. He clicks his tongue and tries to repair the damage while giving you a serious look. "Listen, ya gotta stop with that self depricatin' humour. It ain't funny, and it ain't true."

"It's my wedding day, and you're still going to badmouth my fiancé?" You try to steer the conversation away and ignore his last remark. He frowns at the change of subject but decides to drop it.

"I told ya since day one. I don't trust that snake. You told me that they slithered into someone else's bed while you were gone."

"That was different, Mondo! Our class was missing for two years; they thought I died!" You try to justify your fiancé's actions, choosing to believe in their love for you. Clearly, Mondo is annoyed at how blinded you are by your feelings.

"Ditch those fuckin' rose-tinted glasses, Y/n. It doesn't take a genius to see how shady it was when they asked you to marry 'em after not seein' you for two years! How long did it take for you to have this ceremony? How many times did you doubt whether you would actually get married to them?" He begins to poke holes in your beliefs. Turning your head away, you refuse to meet his eyes, not wanting to acknowledge the possibility you've been played. "Damn it, Y/n! Look at me! Look me in the fuckin' eyes and tell me that this is what you want! To get married to someone who continues to grow distant from you, who leaves you crying alone at 2 am! Cause it sure as hell ain't what I want for you."

You bite your lip, knowing that he's only trying to look out for you in his usual brash way. You hadn't noticed, but your knuckles had turned white from gripping your arms. Taking a shaky breath, you walk to the door and open it. "Please, I need to be alone right now."

"Y/n...."

"I know." He walks up to you, and you pat his arm. "I know you're only looking out for me... because I would do the same. But I really need to be alone right now, need to think for a bit and get my thoughts in order." You know how riled up the both of you get when a spat happens, so you decide it's for the best if you cool off before continuing the conversation. Mondo grimaces and nods his head.

"Well, ya better think hard. Cause there's somethin' important inside that head of yours that you're forgettin'."

"What do you mean? Is there something about my fiancé I'm supposed to recall?"

"No, it's not that. I would prefer if you forgot about the bastard entirely. Just... don't forget the celebration gift I gave ya. You did promise you'd wear it on your wedding day," he says bitterly, but he sees your confused expression and dismisses his words. "Nevermind, I'll be out near my hog if ya need me." He walks out the door, closing it behind him. The click of the door sends a wave of sadness to wash over you, leaving the room silent with only the periodic chimes of the church bells. Was this really what you wanted? Was it too much to expect your fiancé to still love you after going missing for two years? You begin to nervously chew on your nails, the glint of the engagement ring glimmering on your ring finger. Taking a brief pause, you slide the ring off your finger and stare at it intently. To disperse any feelings of doubt, you leave the room to search for your fiancé, hoping to strengthen your resolve over marriage.

Luckily for you, their dressing room is only down the hall. You quietly walk down the corridor, not wanting to attract any attention from the guests. Remembering that you also forgot your breakfast donut in their room when you were sneaking flowers for your fiancé, you make a mental note to eat it if your fiancé hasn't already found and ate it before you. You stop in front of the door. However, the door is slightly ajar. Out of curiosity, you decide to take a peek before knocking on the door, but to your horror, you see your fiancé kissing another person. Your fiancé is blocking the view of the other person, but things grow heated, and you watch as your fiancé hoists them up onto the table. You hold your breath. If they could just turn a little, you can catch a glimpse of the cheeky minx your fiancé is passionately making out with. They pull apart with giggles and lingering touches between them; it makes your heart feel queasy.

"We can't keep this up for long. The ceremony is in twenty minutes," a feminine voice says in a breathy tone. You freeze. There's something so familiar about that voice that it's unsettling.

"Darling, twenty minutes is all we need," your fiancé replies, launching an assault on the other party. Laughter erupts, and you feel your knees buckle. A strong pair of arms catch you before you hit the floor, turning you away from that horrid sight. You don't remember what happens next, only that you're picked up and carried outside to the hidden garden at the side of the church. Hands gripping the collar of a white trenchcoat, you numbly turn your head to see a familiar pompadour and those violet eyes that you've forgotten you adored.

".....Mondo?"

He turns to you, a furious expression on his face. "You saw nothin', ya got that? Wipe that disgusting memory from your mind!" His eyes soften when he notices that you're trembling. He tries to set you down on a bench, but you refuse to let him go, so he sighs and sits down with you in his arms. "Didn't I tell ya they're a real piece of shit?" You nod slowly, burying your face into his shoulder. He pats your back and says, "Look, if you wanna cry, I ain't gonna stop you. Let it all out so that we can go back inside and kick some ass."

You laugh, but your laughter turns into hiccuping, and your hiccuping turns into sobbing. Crying into his shoulder, Mondo strokes your back in comfort and waits for you to finish. "I was supposed to get married today," you sniffle.

"I know. At least you found out what kind of trash they really are."

"To think that they were cheating on me!"

"Yeah! how dare they!"

"On my wedding day!" you shout furiously.

"What a shitty person!" Mondo continues hyping you up.

"With my own mother!" you shriek.

"Ye-- wait, what?" He pauses in shock. "You're joking, right?" He looks at your tear-stained face, and his expression falls. "Oh shit, you're actually serious." Mondo ponders for a minute before mumbling, "I always knew they were a motherfucker." You gasp. Trying to laugh and a stuffy nose created the byproduct of a weird mating call that whales use. Mondo lets out a chuckle, the vibrations rumbling off his chest and sending tingles through your body.

"So much for getting married," you sigh, the disappointment clearly showing on your face.

"It's not like ya have to specifically marry them. Hell, you're sittin' on the lap of the hottest biker in the world." He tries to cheer you up, which works wonderfully as you giggle, the corners of your mouth twitching into a smile.

"You are wearing white... You can be my bride!" You chuckle, tears forming in your eyes at the thought of Mondo finding a veil big enough to cover his pompadour --or would he just cut a hole instead? Regardless, the image brought a blush to your cheeks.

"Fuck, you really have no idea what ya do to me." He gazes at you and brushes away some of your tears with his thumb. "C'mon, we got a wedding to crash and a fiancé to beat up!" He stands up, and you set your feet on the ground, taking his hand that he offered to you. You walk through the doors, and suddenly, a priest grabs your arm. You notice he's out of breath with sweat dripping down his forehead.

"Goodness me, child. Where have you been? Your fiancé and mother are worried sick. They couldn't find you anywhere. We must hurry; the ceremony is starting." The oblivious priest guides you to the grand double doors that lead to the alter. You frantically look behind you to see Mondo clenching his fists before storming outside. Disappointed, you let the priest guide you and begin walking down the aisle once the band starts playing the wedding march. You see your fiancé standing at the alter, but their eyes aren't focused on you; their eyes are focused on your mother. It feels nauseating to be the only person in the room who's aware of the adultery that was committed several minutes ago, which you don't even know when it started.

Reaching the alter, you feel relieved that you manage to maintain a neutral expression as your fiancé smiles at you and the vows are read.

"Do you, F/n, take Y/n as your wedded spouse, to have and to hold, for better, for worse, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death do you part?"

"Absolutely! I mean, I do," your fiancé stumbles, earning a few chuckles from the audience, but it left a foul taste in your mouth. The priest then reads the vows for you, and you take a deep breath before answering.

"I..." Your fiance gazes at you expectantly, but you notice their eyes shifting away from your face and glancing at the front row where your mother is seated.

"I absolutely do not!" You declare, shocking even the priest. Your mother quickly rises from her seat and tries to persuade you.

"Oh, Y/n. If it's cold feet you're having, don't worry! Marriage is great, and you love F/n." She tries to reassure you, but you brush her off.

"Why don't you marry them then! I saw you two practically fucking in the dressing room twenty minutes before the reception was supposed to start!" you shout at your mother. The crowd and even the priest gasps. Everyone is whispering amongst themselves, unsure of what's going on.

Your 'fiancé' butts in. "Now, Y/n. I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding. Are you sure that's what you saw?"

"I'm sure of what I saw. But maybe I should get my vision checked because I don't even know what I saw in you in the first place!"

Your fiancé feigns hurt and continues to remain ignorant in front of the many eyes watching them. "You can't just accuse me of something you have no proof of, Y/n. Honestly, I'm quite hurt that you think I would do something like that."

Your mother turns to calm down the audience when you notice a giant stain on the bottom of her dress.

"Boston cream..." you mumble.

"What? This isn't time to be thinking about food," your fiancé frowns.

"No! I left my donut in your room when I went to put flowers on your desk! I watched you and mother make out on top of the desk. That stain is proof that she was sitting on your desk! How else could she have gotten that distinct chocolate glaze and cream filling on her dress?!" Your fiancé flinches, and your mother swoops in to try and save them.

"I was checking the catering when a waiter ran into me."

"Bullshit," you retort.

"Y/n, it's really not a big deal. Why don't we continue with the ceremony? You won't meet another nice fiancé like F/n again."

"No! Marriage this and marriage that! It's always you insisting... that I get... married," you finish in a hushed tone. "I didn't survive the antics of a psychopathic bear for two years just to marry some trash I don't even like!" Your head throbs, and you bring a hand up to soothe the pain in your temple. "Holy shit," you mumble to yourself. "I-I never wanted this. Why did I agree to do this?" Furrowing your brows, you try to remember why you agreed to this engagement. You vaguely recall being engaged, but why wasn't it with F/n?

Your mother panics and grabs your hands. "I did this for your own good, Y/n. I couldn't have you marry a biker --a biker, Y/n!" She continues to ramble on, her eyes freaking you out. "We can share. It's no big deal. It was so lonely when you were gone, but F/n kept me company. We can keep each other company from now on." Her grip tightens to the point of it being painful, but you're unable to wriggle out of her iron hold over you. "Oh, you should have just eaten your donut like a good kid. If you had eaten it, none of this would have happened." You manage to wrench her hands off of you and shove her away. Your mother has clearly gone insane during the time you disappeared... has she been spiking your food?

You narrow your eyes at your ex-fiancé. "Were we ever dating?" You ask. Your memories are a jumbled mess currently, and you can no longer recall what happened when you came home after escaping Hope's Peak Academy.

"Only for a month or two before you went missing. I only dated you to get closer to your mom," they admit, to which you reply with a punch to their face. The audience cheers, and some even whistle, which makes you feel like a total badass. The sound of an engine revving catches everyone's attention, and a familiar figure comes blasting down the aisle on a motorcycle.

"Mondo!" You brighten up upon seeing him. With your back turned, you're unaware of the blow your ex-fiancé is about to deliver for that punch you gave them. A blur of white flashes past you and the shrieks of F/n echo in the room.

"You fucker!" You turn around to see Mondo lifting them up before smashing their face into the wedding cake that was conveniently placed near the altar. He dusts off his hands before confidently strutting towards you and carries you in his arms.

"Where have you been," you whisper, the blood rushing to your cheeks.

"Pickin' up some of your things. You're obviously movin' in with me after that shitshow." You notice that a duffel bag is sitting in the sidecar, presumably holding your belongings.

"You can't leave, Y/n! The ceremony isn't finished!" your mother wails, flinching when she sees your icy glare. Mondo sets you down on the bike before sitting in front of you. He kicks up the kickstand, and you flip your middle finger at your mother and her lover.

"Fuck both of you! I'm moving out!" you shout right before Mondo speeds out of the reception hall, leaving everyone in a state of confusion. You laugh and whoop in joy as the wind runs through your hair. Mondo glances back and smiles at your state of excitement. "Did you see the look on their faces?!"

"Yeah, the two of them looked 'bout ready to shit themselves. Ya did good, Y/n." You can feel the warmth radiating off his back as you tighten your hold around his waist. Suddenly, you remember the engagement ring on your finger. You had slipped it back on earlier, but now you have no use for it. You remove the jewel-encrusted band and watch the road. Once you pass by a bridge, you toss the ring. A finger on your right hand glimmers.

"Mondo, do you remember where I got this ring?" you ask, gazing intently at the purple gem in the center of the ring.

"Course I do. I was the one who gave it to ya." You knit your brows.

"Is this the present you gave to me to celebrate something?" When he doesn't respond, you crane your neck to catch a glimpse of his face, noticing that it's bright red.

"It was to celebrate our engagement," he finally answers.

You exclaim in surprise, "We're engaged?!"

He nods solemnly and begins to explain everything to you from his perspective. He recounts how the two of you fell in love at the academy, how he proposed when everyone escaped, how you started to ignore him the night after and suddenly became engaged to someone else. "The gang's gonna lose their shit when they see ya!" he happily states, rambling on about how everyone missed seeing you.

"What now?" you ask, still staring at the ring --which is now on your left ring finger.

"Well, you did promise me you'd wear it on your wedding day." He pulls up to his biker gang headquarters. The building is decorated crudely in flowers with a sloppy hand-painted banner of Mondo's name and yours. Tears well up in your eyes, and you try to blink them away.

"Did you plan for this to happen?"

"I sure as hell wasn't gonna let you marry anyone else but me," he huffs, stepping off the bike and extending his hand to you. "I was even ready to snatch ya away if things didn't go as planned."

"But who will officiate our wedding?"

"Of course, it's gotta be my bro, Taka. Who else? Man's so talented, he's gonna be my best bro and our officiant!" You laugh at his words, glad that his bromance with Taka is still going strong. "You're fuckin' beautiful when you laugh, ya know that?" He admires your crimson face and cheekily plants a kiss on the corner of your mouth. "You'll look even better with Owada as your last name." He tugs your hand and leads you to the entrance. You walk through the door together and see all of your old classmates.

"Y/n!" they all shout happily. You grin, practically glowing from all the attention. Your friends cancelled going to the first wedding because they were busy attending your wedding with Mondo.

This is it, this is the wedding you wanted. A wedding surrounded by close friends in a place you cherish.

Mondo squeezes your hand. The two of you walk down the aisle together, where Taka is waiting with a dictionary in his hands. You eye the book and let out a small laugh.

"It was the best I could do on such short notice!" he says, profusely defending himself.

You stare lovingly at the man standing in front of you, his eyes glimmering like the gem on your ring.

Today's the big day; today you're finally going to marry your fiancé.

─── ⋆ ｡ﾟ☆: *. ☽ .* :☆ﾟ｡⋆ ───

End Note:

Holy shit, I re-read this and fell in love with it all over again. This is one of my all-time favourite works that I've written and I hope you guys love it even half as much as I do.

I noticed while skimming that I used Y/n in this work. I have come to personally prefer not using/reading it, so any current or future works I write will not have it. Although I know it can be a bit difficult in this regard because of wedding vows. I would like to add I will probably also try to avoid anything like f/n (friend's name), y/e/c (your eye colour). etc. Mostly for immersion reasons and my brain hates auto-filling in words.

This work is based on a prompt: "Twenty minutes before you are about to get married, you find your mother and your fiancé kissing passionately."

Reblogs are appreciated!

[rindough]

Hi love!!

For the request, I would like to request a song fic for Gojo Satoru beloved :>

Set fire to the rain - Adele

Thinking of you - Katy Perry

Up to you love, fluff or angst, i love them the same!!!Happy writing sweets ❤️😆

betrayal to them, never his heart.

•  character(s).  gojo satoru

•  wc.  1,889

•  cw.  angst (fluff too! if you squint closely), mentions of violence, war, weapons, blood, gore? just in case!, subtle (maybe not so) hints of attempting suicide, language, featuring toji!, also prince!satoru ;)

•  notes.  GAHHH u had me tearing up at katy's song honey cuz that song always breaks my heart </3 but still very fic material tho 👀👀 also thank u for requesting hehe I LOVE YOU MUACCCKKKK okay lowkey i feel like it’s rushed for some reason... :/// hmmm I’ll let everyone be the judge! also excuse my grammars etc ><

•  master list!

it is all for you.

you peer out the window once again, the sun will rise up soon, and you need to make a move. glancing back at the piece before you, the rough breath fans your knuckle for the umpteenth time.

it is all for you.

your hand trails down to your collarbone to fiddle the string of silver. it’s cold, and so should your heart, except that it thumps and drains out any miscellaneous thoughts for now. the shining blade was on your table, and the heavy material was on your bed.

quickly, you slid into something more comfortable, one by one from your top to your bottoms. and each visit to your closet you cringe each time you made eye contact with the mirror (it only causes your guilt to grew).

it is all for you, father.

years of hard work, years of rendezvous, years of services, years of lingering gazes— the ten years of serving the house of gojo has gone to waste the moment you signed the contract with the house of zenin. all for the sake of saving your family, your debt, and his safety.

was it worth it? you could ask yourself again when the endgame is near. was it worth it just to earn a pat on the back from your ruthless father?

he’s put you in a path that was too suffocating to experience, yet you still loved him. thankfully with an offer given during one of the house meetings, you’ve earned a spot to work for the house of gojo — a assistant strategist.

what would you do, gojo satoru?

definitely you mustn’t think you’ve earned something from working as an assistant now. you might have your intimate moments with the prince. you might have earned the love of the king and queen. you might have sealed a deal with the house of gojo, but never with the heir himself.

you slid in the sword into your armor, the noise it made bring slight shivers down your body. the ‘click’ only emphasizing the purpose of your mission today.

“kill his men, y/n. kill someone precious to him, do we grant you the safety of your family and your lover.”

your forcefully held your gaze with the raven haired before you, his sly smirk near your face only tempting you to spit at him. not now — not when he has a spear by your throat. 

“you do not want words to get slipped out now, do you?”

“no, zenin.”

“fushiguro!” he pushes your head back, words seething through his gritted teeth. “do not bring my father’s name into this. i will and always be a fushiguro.”

“good deeds? their so-called good deeds...” toji rolls his eyes, “especially when they have this stupid connection with the house of gojo!”

“huh... ‘s so good to be an outcast sometimes, makes me wanna plot something like this.” he crosses his arms and leans against the table in front of you.

he leans away and rose back to his feet. “ya do that, and as promised, the ones mentioned will be safe.”

“and my debt?”

“free.” he whispers, face now closer to yours.

“it is all... free.”

warmness was starting to rise up as the sun is now setting. from the corner of the war to being the middle of it all, thankfully there wasn’t any slip up, no one noticed. you’ve poisoned many of gojo’s men who you knew were at the spots listed in your spare copy of the strategy map.

the kingdom belonged to a ruler centuries ago, now left abandoned with most of its walls tarnished due to one of history’s smallest yet greatest wars.

as you climbed up the sandy stairs of the building, you managed to knock out every one of his men down quietly, until you reached the floor where you’re supposed to be. no one will question your being here, now that the war is almost over. they would simply assume that the assistant strategist had to come and make sure things go to plan.

sure, it was clear that his house had won.

still things aren’t done yet.

you were a step away from falling into something deeper — something life changing — if and only if you managed to find his mother. it was heartbreaking, but you have to do what you got to do.

standing closer to the edge, you tuck the silver chain back in as you view the pools of blood and casualties scattered around the land before you. the tip of your fingers tingled at the cold metal, realizing that you are touching something precious from him with hands filthy of your own wrongdoings.

“i knew it was you!”

you turned around and face a familiar face, a face so familiar that you wished he hadn’t appear in your life — that you wished he would be somewhere far from you right now — especially when you know so darn well what you will do to him.

“ren, put the sword down.”

“not when i found out what you did to us.” he heaved, circling your frozen figure. “how dare you betray us like this, y/n?”

“ren-”

“how dare you do this to us when we treated you like family?” his voice remains calm, and you know what he felt was anything but that. “how dare you!”

“i have my reasons.” now you circle him back, sword in hand. usually it’d be hard to move around, considering there were bodies of men laying around you, though now it seems like the two of you already know your way around the odd clear spacings among the bodies.

“come on, finish me off like how you did to your other friends.”

“stop making this hard for me —”

“you are the one making things harder for us —”

“oh, shut up!” suddenly throwing your sword up, you charged at the blond. tackling him into a headlock before sending a hard, final blow to his neck. and as quick as it was you dug your tiny blade into his lymph node by his jaw, seeping the poison into his blood.

“i’m sorry, ren.” you whispered, carefully resting his body on the ground.

“y/n!”

you turn in the midst of chaos, to be met with his familiar gaze. gojo satoru had always held his gaze with a certain intensity, no matter when and who he is talking to.

the blue orbs of the heir glistens.

but not like it used to when he had you tongue-tied beneath the tree, his face inching closer to yours; not like it used to when his first instinct was to look past his comrades and over to you, whether he had won or lost the horse racing match.

his eyes glistens and you felt yourself grew number with each second you spent maintaining eye contact with him.

you feel disgusted with yourself.

“y/n...” you want to yank his hand away.

which you did, your heavy footsteps along the uneven pavement soon stopped by his vice grip.

“let go, satoru.” with force you pulled your arm back once more and walked away, your jaw clenching in anger.

“why did you do it?” he yells out, but you chose to pay more attention to the groans of his army of men below. “y/n!”

it was hard not to stop walking, he never spoke to you with such anger before, let alone growl out your name like that. it was understandable, considering your ‘true’ motives being on display now.

you’re far apart now, with him and with your dream of staying in the land of safe haven. your dream had gone to ruins, and so was your relationship — or friendship, you don’t know anymore at this point. flames scatter across the sky above you, small particles of sand and stones dust over your figure as you back off away from the approaching male. you have no idea where your family was, the plan had already backfire, and you’ve been caught red-handed, but it did not matter.

it all ends now.

“ah... early execution, huh?” you jokingly said, staring up at the cracking ceiling built from heavy rocks.

“shut up, y/n!” he scolds you, his figure growing closer, foot pace becoming faster.

yet not fast enough to stop you from falling down along with the debris.

do you catch onto something? do you fall to your death? do you keep your eyes open to see how the large block of cement above you is the one that will end you?

no. so, you closed your eyes, feeling the sand and fine stones sprinkle your face gently piece by piece as darkness engulfs you —

the sprinkle stops and you open your eyes carefully. a sigh fans your face, the heavy gravitational pull lightens now that he cradles your head, the other on your back.

“y/n-” he gasps as if he found a precious treasure, which — he did — you were alive, and safe thanks to his power. his hand on your back now brushing the sands and hair off your face.

“satoru-”

it was painful. with your lips trembling like this, with his cold hand shaking like this. no matter how many times your lips have perfectly molded against each other, your lips moved as if you’re sharing your first kiss — lips not perfectly mended into each other. 

it was painful to kiss him at a time like this.

“you’re alive.” he mutters, his gaze frantically searching into yours. “you’re fucking alive.”

“i am, satoru.” lips quivering, you let your gaze be blurred as you sobbed in his hold. “i’m sorry- i’m so sorry.”

the loud noise of bricks crashing and crumbling grew louder and you yelp the moment you slam into his chest, eyes squeezing shut as the final large block of cement comes dangerously close to your heads. cracking pathetically above his shield before falling apart to join the ruins below your feet.

your armors clank, neither of you cared when you’re desperate to feel something alive from each other — to at least feel something warm against two cold iron coated bodies. his breath remains uneven as his hand buries itself in the locks of your hair; you held in your breaths every now and then, both arms on his back simply to process whatever that has happened.

“you’re... alive.”

“i know.”

“i almost lost you.”

“you don’t have to mention that.”

he couldn’t feel it, but he could tell from your attempts to sooth him. your hands that rubbed his armor, and your soft whispers against his ragged ones.

“we still have things to talk about, y/n.”

“i’ll answer everything,” you held his shoulders instead, not daring to touch his face due to the remaining feel of disgrace within you. “truthfully. you can punish me, you can put me in a cell, you can kill me off-”

“god, can you shut up for a moment.” his nose flares, he holds your face firmly. not caring if raindrops have begun poking your skins. not when this time, your lips finally molded against each other perfectly. “we can talk this through over a table, no cells, nothing. just... you and me, y/n.”

satoru notices the confusion within your gaze but he knows that no matter what, you true intentions were never malicious.

you will never be this malicious.

©  2022 rindough, do not repost or plagiarize.

[unbreathable]

ride home  / S. Rogers

Summary : As a girl you were always told to never accept a ride from unknown men. You knew what could happen, you knew the dangers and heck, you`ve seen how it ruined some girls. But hey, he`s your teacher, nothing could happen. Right?

Pairing : Dark(soft)!teacher Steve Rogers x female Reader

Before you read, please understand that this is intended to be a dark fic. There will be noncon elements, rape, violence, manipulation and so much more. If you find any of these disturbing, please click away. 18+ only.

Warnings for this one shot : manipulation, noncon elements, rape, use of drugs, lost of virginity. This is some kind of au and Steve might be out of character a little.

Word count : 3.319

Credit : for the gif I used, the credit goes to its rightful creator.

Note : Don’t expect this to be any good. I came up with this over the course of a few hours and I’m still learning how to write one shots, as I find it much easier to write a series. Also I still suck at writing “smut”. I’m trying to perfect it, tho. Promise. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one shot till my mind would be satisfied with the way the next chapter of “The Magpie” turned out and would let me post it. :)) Also, please excuse any mistakes I made. Have a great day you guys!

                   Also, to all the writers from this platform : thank you !

Girl found wondering around without any memory of the last few days, claims she had been abducted and raped...

Your eyes narrowed as you stared at the case which has been all over the news for the past week. It was quite predictable, really. Young girl, too drunk for her own good woke up by herself in the middle of nowhere. You sighed. In a city as big as New York, cases like this happened almost every other day, but there was always something left behind. Fight marks, blood, hair. Anything that could help the police find the person who did it. This time though, there was nothing.

The poor girl. You couldn`t help but pity her. She must be terrified. All alone against a world that knows nothing better than to judge. You pinched your nose in exasperation.

Cases like this, it`s what made you choose to study law. You wanted to be able to help other women. To offer them a chance at justice. No one deserved to be told that it was their own fault for wondering alone at night or for wearing something more showing. No girl should feel like the law protects only the male population...

“ And what`s your opinion on this matter, miss I`m too busy scrolling on my phone to pay attention to class?”

You cursed in your head, as you put your phone away and lifted your eyes to meet your teacher.

Steve Rogers. America`s hero, savior of the world and an actual pain in your ass, was looking at you expectantly. You held his gaze as you forced your lips to form some kind of smile. Something about him always put you on edge and the way his eyes darkened as he stared at you, didn`t exactly help ease the feeling.

“I`m sorry, I was distracted.” you murmured, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he caught you unprepared. ”If you would be so kind...”

You looked at him as you raised one eyebrow. It was always like this. No matter what you did he`d always find something to pick at you. At first you took it as a form of banter between a teacher and his students, but with time it became clearly that he had a problem with you. Your grades didn`t reflect the hard work you always put in. Your extra work wouldn`t be considered. Every time you would as much as look at your watch he`d find something to jab at you. He would also have something to say about every paper you handed him. It was a miracle you even made the grade for his class.

You cringed as you remembered the comments he would make about your life outside his class. You seemed to bump into him on a daily. There was also something, in the way he watched your every move, that it made the hair at the back of your neck stay high on alert. You really couldn`t understand what you`ve done that America`s sweetheart despised you that much.

”The women rights...” he smirked down at you.

“Oh, yes. I strongly believe that women should have got their rights the same time men did.” you smiled when you realized that he wanted to add something else. “I mean we know that every society of this world was built around androcentrism, but if we`re real the women were the ones that kept everything from falling apart.” you drew in a short breath. “Oh, and I believe that 1920 was a bit late for our women to get their rights, since women all around the world fought for it since the 18th century.”

You smirked, as for once in your life the bell rang exactly when you needed it. Forcing a smile his way, you stood up gathering your notebooks. You were quite proud of yourself, not because your answer was the desired one, but because you got on professor Rogers nerves. While he didn`t seem to have a problem with women and feminists in general, he sure had a problem with the way you choose to speak on the matter. From the corner of your eye you saw his jaw twitch.

At first you were afraid to even say your opinion lest you would upset him, but now you enjoyed to see that vein on his forehead nearly pop. You held back a giggle. Oh well, at least you won`t have to see him for the next few weeks.

“Professor!” you rolled your eyes when you herd your bestfriend use her sweet voice. “I was wondering if you`d like to come to our party tonight.”

You stood straight, narrowing your eyes at the one that has been your friend since the first day you came to the city. What the hell was happening. You knew she had a crush on him, everyone did, but she wasn`t the one to just go and ask someone out, especially not him. You watched her in confusion as professor Rogers made his way to the front of the class.

“You know, with everything happening right now, the uni council would let us hold the party only if there was someone that could take care of us.”

“Oh!” you supposed that made sense, but even so why did it have to be him.

“Of course professor Barnes already said that he`ll be there, but we`d be thankful if you came too. Please!” your friend bated her eyelashes at him as you rolled your eyes.

Professor Rogers had a pleased smile as he moved his eyes from her to you. You held his gaze, even going as far as raising one eyebrow at him. He blinked, before turning his head towards the rest of the class.

“Since you asked so nicely.” he said after a short moment dismissively. ”`I`ll be there.”

There was something sinister in his eyes. Something that you failed to see as you made your way out of the lecture class.

“I can`t believe you invited him!” you playfully jabbed your friend in the shoulder as she walked next to you.

“Oh, come on! It’s just tonight, and I bet he won’t be able to stay up that late since he’s like... the same age as history?” she bit back a laugh, as she took your hand. “It will be fun, you`ll see.”

You hoped she was right since you were never a big fan of parties of any kind.

                                       _ _ _

This wasn`t fun. Not at all.

You knew you should have stayed home, yet you still wanted to enjoy the last night with your class mates before break. But this wasn`t it. The music was too loud and you couldn`t even hear what some people were saying. Also you`ve never really been a techno fan. The food was crap and you were sure everyone came just because there were free drinks.

It was well past midnight and you have been there since the beginning, but you were already dreading it. You smiled as your only joy came from watching drunk freshmen being rejected by some of your friends. The girls were ruthless and that made you proud.

“Hey girl!” your bestfriend came by your side, holding two glasses in her hands as her body danced along the rhythm of the music. “Look at was professor Rogers sent us.”

Her words were slurred and you could see that she drank already too much. That`s why at first you thought you didn`t hear her right. While it wasn`t unusual for men to send women drinks, getting a drink from your teacher was something you never thought could happen. It was wrong in a way.

“What?” your eyes widened as soon as the word left your mouth.

You eyed the glass she handed you. It seemed to be one of your favorites, and after the sour taste the beer left in your mouth, that would have been like a desert. Still something made you suspicious.

“Come on, take it!”  your friend pressed as she smiled broadly. “He must have realized that he’s been an ass all year and wants to make amends.”

She was giggling as her glossy eyes drifted around the room. She didn`t seem to be able to focus on anything, but somehow her shaky hands found yours and brought the glass you were holding closer to your mouth. You weren`t exactly sure what came over you, but you opened your mouth and let the liquid go down your throat. Involuntarily, your eyes wondered around till you saw the back of your least favorite teacher. He didn`t even seem to care about anything around him as he was engaged into a discussion with professor Barnes. That alone made you feel safe, even though the drink left a bitter taste in your mouth.

You were too quick to judge, you resonated. This was probably his way of saying: “Sorry I tormented you that much.” You suddenly giggled. It was shortly followed by your friend`s laughter. She threw the glass to the side and took your hand leading you to the dancefloor.

You weren`t that much of a dancer. You knew just some basics moves and that was it, but now you didn`t seem to care. You let your body move, and only chuckled when your legs started to feel like jelly. It was a strange feeling. You suddenly felt like were floating.

You furrowed your brows as you started to feel that your body didn`t exactly respond to your impulses. Everything around you happened in slow motion.

You cursed. Just how much did you drink? Moving one hand to your head, you tried to get your senses back, but you found it too hard to do. Your head buzzed. For a second you looked around trying to spot your friend among the sweaty bodies on the dancefloor, but it was like you couldn`t recognize anybody.

Fuck this. You had enough of this party already, and the way you felt made you decide that it was time to go home. You moved between the sea of bodies as fast as you could. Your coat and purse were the only thing you spent more than five minutes looking for, but as you found them you practically run out of there.

The bus stop wasn`t that far, but just the thought that you`ll have to go home by bus, made you want to throw up. You didn`t feel well and there was  dizziness that started to overcome you. As you watched the empty street, you cursed again. Of course you`ll have to wait till the next bus came. Damn it! You should really get your license.

The sound of a engine from behind you, made you turn your head. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the Range Rover slow down and actually stop right next to you. You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the tinted glass, but as a wave of nausea hit you, you moved your head to the side. You didn`t exactly pay attention when one of the windows went down. You didn`t really care. You felt sick, and all you wanted, was to get home.

“ I saw you left the party early.” the deep voice said. “Are you all right kitten?”

You hissed when you heard the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. What was he even doing here? Your heart skipped a beat as another wave hit. You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. Just ignore him and he`ll go away. You didn`t exactly knew why you choose to act like that but there was something in your head that told you it was for the best.

“Come on girl, I have to make sure everyone is safe and sound.” you heard his voice. “If you don`t feel fine, I can take you home.”

The idea of getting home sooner and in a nice car was looking really good right now. But still, you didn`t feel like it was the best for you. You choose to keep quiet for reasons not even you knew. You glossy eyes scanned the schedule of the bus that was right in front of you. Thirty minutes and you`ll go home.

You heard professor Rogers sigh.

“And here I thought you never shut your mouth.” there was a deep chuckle, fallowed by the sound of the engine coming to life. “Look kitten I can either get you home or I`ll go my merry way and let you here all alone... well not quite. But I`m not sure you`d want that kind of company.”

Confusion filled your mind. The sudden move you made to look at him, made you dizzy. You tried to focus your eyes, in time to see him pointing to somewhere behind you. You slowly turned.

A group of guys were eyeing you like a wolf would his prey. Your mouth fell open as they did obscene gestures at you. Your whole body freeze as fear took over you. You knew what could happen. Suddenly you were more sober that ever and as you heard the car start moving, you nearly threw yourself in front of it. On shaky legs you moved towards the door.

“Wait” you find it hard to speak. “Professor, I`m sorry I... please!”

You looked at him with pleading eyes, and didn`t even register the way he smirked as you got into the car. Everything was a haze. You only felt like you could breath when the car started to gain speed. You didn`t even remembered to give him your address or anything, but as the car rolled down various streets you were only thankful you were far away from them.

“It such a crazy world out there” professor Rogers voice made you move your head towards him, but as the fear was gone, you started to feel the dizziness again.

With unfocused eyes you watched him. America`s hero was giving you a ride home for free and you were acting like he was your biggest enemy. What was wrong with you?

“I have to say I`m impressed.” he suddenly said as the car started to slow down. “That was one of the strongest drugs that you drank, and you still have some of your conscious left. The other ones were down after a few minutes.”

You looked at him and simply blinked. You wondered if your mind was playing games with you. Surely, he hadn`t said what you think you heard. You must have imagined everything.

“E... excuse me?” you asked dully.

You drew in a shaky breath as your trembling hand went to the door. He chuckled darkly at your attempts to open it. You wanted to scream but as your movement became slower and slower you found that fear wasn`t enough to fuel your limp body.

The car came to a sudden stop. You closed your eyes as you felt hands pulling you back.

“Now, now honey.” you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Don`t waste your energy, you`ll need it.”

You turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes. Something in your head was screaming at you to fight, to run, to get away. You wanted to punch, scratch, hurt him in any way. But your body didn`t listen.

It happened too fast. In a matter of second your dress was ripped to shreds. And your found yourself pressed to the door. He was over you in an instant. Turning your head to the side so that he could stare into your eyes. He had a hungry look on his face. You`ve seen it many times but it never terrified you as much as now.

“Just as pretty as I imagined.” he said in a husky voice.

You squeezed your legs as you felt his hand moving around along your body. He tugged at your bra till the clasps snapped. Your nipples stood erect, you didn`t know if it was from the cold of the car or the heat that was inside you. One of his hands came forward at pinched at your nipples. You made to move, but as sensing your intention he tugged your head back by your hair.

“Don`t you even dare!” he growled as his thumb played with one of your nipples. “I waited a long time for this”.

He leaned forward kissing down your stretched neck. His mouth was hot against your skin. You gasped when you felt his tongue leaving wet traces along your collarbone. He tugged at your hair one more time before his hand went down.

“Always dressing like this world is your own runaway, always thinking that you know it all.” he let out a moan as he squeezed your ass. “Do you know what a face as pretty as yours and an attitude like that do to a man?”

You whimpered. You never meant to catch his attention in that way, you just wanted to feel good about yourself. You wanted to tell him that. To tell him that you were sorry, but your brain didn`t work anymore. There was no reaction even as he spanked you. You felt like you could pass out every second.

“Don`t even think about it!”

You closed your eyes when your panties were soon the same as your other clothes. Slick was going down your legs. Despite everything, you were aroused.

“So fucking wet already. Good girl!” he praised.

You felt his hand descend down to your very core, proding around. You bit your lips as tears filled your eyes.

“How many have been here before?” he gave a low chuckle the same time his fingers pinched your button.

“One?” he mocked as one of his long fingers entered you.

You held back a gasp. Non, no, no. This wasn`t happening. Nobody touched you like that before. Nobody even came close to it. That`s not how you wanted it not how you dreamt it would happen. You wanted dinner, roses, a man you loved... not him.

“Two?” he continued as another finger stretched you.

You felt your walls clench around his fingers, as he moved them in and out ou you, everything while his thumb circled your most sensitive part.

“Fuck... you`re tight!” his breath was ragged, it was like he couldn`t get enough.

There was a sudden pause. In a quick move you found yourself pressed to the door of the car, as he angled your body to have better access to your burning core. He drew in a breath.

“A virgin.” he moaned.

You closed your eyes as you herd him playing at his clothes. The sudden hardness you felt proding around your core, made you shiver. You didn`t dare to look back and see it. You were scared. It seemed too big. You were afraid it would split you in a half.

You screamed when he entered you. The pain blurred your vision. Your whole body ached and tears fell down your cheeks. No, no, no. You bit back a moan of pain when he started to move, not caring about you at all. His moves were rough, punishing.

“Shhh doll, I`ll take care of you.” he rasped. “You must have waited so long for this... saving yourself for me.”

Your body moved in rhythm with his. His cock dragged along your walls as every move sent a wave of pain through you. Soon though, you found the pain disappeared. A strange feeling took over you. It was almost pleasurable. You guessed you would have enjoyed it under any other circumstances. But now? Now you were just tired.

As you passed out, you failed to notice the feeling of something warm flowing through you.

                                          _ _ _

Steve smiled down at your sleeping form. So pretty, even after being used like that. You had a glow. Too bad you might not remember anything that happened. He chuckled. It`s a  good thing he planned to keep you. He`ll make sure you`ll never forget him.

You were his girl after all. The only reason he took that shitty job as a teacher.

[fanartfunart]

Fly Away

Episode 1: Paon Lilas (*Lilac Peacock)

Ao3 Link (If I actually continue this, check my Ao3 of the same name “Fanartfunart”.. Considering how much mental real estate it’s taking up, I probably will.)

An au in which Adrien didn't succeed in trying to 'sneak' into brick and mortar school and therefore also didn't get the Black Cat miraculous..... but he did find a pretty peacock. (It's in his house... I mean....) Ladybug and Féline Sombre (Who uses She/They. Black Cat hero name thanks to @broadwaytheanimatedseries) get some help from the mysterious peacock miraculous holder, but Ladybug isn’t sure he’s 100% doing this for good.

Warnings: Canon typical violence.... Not much else? Tell me if I need to add anything.

A/N because Brick and Mortar schoolers never know that’s what they are: "Brick and Mortar school" is a homeschool/online school method of reference to in-person schools before calling it “in-person” was a thing. I 100% think Adrien would use that phrasing. (if the writers knew it existed...Tho. Idk if there's a French equivalent)

-*-

Adrien knew he shouldn’t be doing this. This was a worse idea than trying to sneak his way into brick and mortar school. He’d only seen it by accident. He wasn’t even doing very good at committing to breaking into his father’s mysterious safe. This was the third time he’d come back down to find out what was behind that painting.... He should really not be doing this. But...a secret compartment behind his mother’s painting was just… too interesting to ignore. He unfurled an umbrella to cover himself from the cameras his father probably had in the room. Inching his way to the painting of his mother. 

...He had had far too much time to think about this. He only had to punch in the code once (his mother’s birthday- frankly, his father really needed a code harder to guess), for the safe to click and unlock.

The contents… were not what he anticipated. It looked like a keepsake box, not a super secret compartment. He ghosted a hand over the frame of his mother’s photo, blinking away the lingering sadness. ...A peacock brooch? He picked it up, tumbling it in his hand. It almost hummed with energy. He tilted his head, brow raised.

Footsteps.

Adrien frantically closed the hidden compartment and glancing for a hiding place. The umbrella closed over his head just as he dove for the curtain. That… might bruise. He flattened himself against the windowsill, going on his tip-toes on the barely-there window ledge. 

From the distinct clack of dress shoes on the floor, his father had entered the room. Adrien held his breath, hearing his father’s footsteps come closer. A strange whirr. Then silence. Adrien stood there for a long moment, feeling the edges of the peacock brooch dig into his clenched fist. Heart hammering. But father never called for Natalie, or his bodyguard, or moved, or anything. It was eerily quiet. The umbrella peaked out of the curtain. He popped open the umbrella to find… no one. 

"What?" Adrien whispered to himself. He frowned, and tiptoed out from the window, before racing out of the room, down the hall, and outside. Once safely in the garden, he dropped the umbrella. He slid down into the grass, taking deep breaths. 

The brooch vibrated.

Wait. The brooch vibrated? He opened his hand. He had to shield his face from the burst of light. He opened an eye to see… a tiny… hummingbird? No, it was a peacock. Why is a peacock… floating? And Tiny? And why isn’t he sneezing? Are miniature peacocks hypoallergenic? “What the...”

“Ooooo, hello!” The creature said cheerfully, “Lovely weather isn’t it? Beautiful flowers! Nice to be outdoors for once isn’t it? Are you my new miraculous wielder? You’re so cute! You look almost like…” tears welled up into the miniature peacock’s eyes. Adrien looked around frantically. It kept talking unintelligibly between sobs, gesturing vaguely.

“Are you… okay?”

“Noooooooo.”

“Right. Er-” Adrien frowned, clearly it wasn’t going to make sense if he asked what was wrong. He opted for distraction. “Do… you want something to eat?”

“Oh sure!” The tiny peacock’s tears cleared up immediately.

Adrien blinked at the sudden change in mood and nodded “Let’s… Let’s go get you something to eat… I guess. Er, what are you?”

"Oh I'm Duusu, a kwami, I can grant the power to hone emotions into constructs."

He tilted his head. The image of Ladybug summoning her Lucky Charm came to mind. "Like… a superhero? How?”

"Well you are transformed by a magic phrase, and once transformed, you can create a sentimonster out of vibrant emotions. Whoever holds the Amok, the item imbued with power, can control the sentimonster."

“Oh, cool!”

"It is! Do you have any mangoes? I love mango."

“We’ll see.” Adrien glanced at the peacock brooch and stuffed it into his pocket. He looked back at the door inside, then Duusu. “Actually, can you… hide? Just for now-”

“Oh yes! Don’t worry! I know the Kwami and our wielder's identities are a secret.” The kwami zipped into Adrien’s over-shirt inner pocket and settled there. It felt… almost natural. He smiled a bit to himself and went to find out if they had some good fruit for the tiny peacock. 

-

The TV played in the background while Duusu had another sudden breakdown about… something. Adrien still wasn’t sure what. He was starting to feel very out of his depth. 

“Duusu.... Duusu. D- Duusu, do you want to talk about it?” There was a pause before the tears flowed even harder. Adrien was reminded of a sprinkler.

His eyes were pulled to the TV, with a flash of red and black blurring on the screen. Followed by an Akuma. Ladybug and Féline Sombre. He glanced at the Kwami. “Duusu… you mentioned you can give me powers, right?”

“Mhm! You just have to say ‘Spread my feathers.’”

“Alright! Duusu-”

“OH! Wait I didn’t-”

“Spread my feathers!” The transformation felt so natural, like he was made to do this. He struck a pose and smiled behind the fan that materialized in his hand. “Alright, let’s go help Ladybug and Féline Sombre.”

He didn’t expect to start… feeling, seeing emotions. Although he supposed that made sense for the power set. They were everywhere- it was like being dropped into the deep end of a pool, surrounded and covered. Fear, worry, frustration, annoyance, determination. Stronger emotions felt… bigger, somehow. The world was full of colors and feelings he’d never expected. He lept across rooftops, feeling like he was flying. His own elation from the truest sense of freedom he’s ever had in… ever; a bright vibrant bubble. He stumbled to a stop as he spotted Ladybug.

Ladybug was determined… and scared? He didn’t expect that from Paris’s hero. She kept looking around, searching for a plan. The redhead cat hero dove in from above and smacked the Akuma with their baton. Her baton was then immediately captured and swallowed by the plants under the Akuma’s control. Féline Sombe pulled desperately before eventually giving up and vaulting towards Ladybug. She was scared too, he noticed, and frustrated.

The Akumatized person was angry. So so angry it was overwhelming. He almost couldn’t see the person behind their anger. “It’s only a matter of time before Chloé Bourgeois and the litterers of Paris pay!” The plant-covered Akuma cackled. 

Chloe?! Well that’s not good. One of his only friends is in danger?

“Bonzaniac is just gonna grow bigger if they go anywhere near the Eiffel. We need to prune this plant before it’s unmanageable.” Ladybug told Féline Sombre, wrapping her yo-yo around the Akuma’s legs, straining to control Bonzaniac’s movement.

Féline Sombre gestured widely, “If I touch them I’ll just become Cat-nip! How are we supposed to stop them?”

Ladybug called her Lucky Charm, ending up with a polka dotted fishing pole. “How’s that supposed to help?” 

The peacock hero frowned and… Chloé? What’s she doing here? Bonzaniac noticed her as well, it seemed, because the plant growth reached toward her. Chloé’s fear grew rapidly and immediately. He plucked a feather from the fan, imbuing it with power. He dove from his perch on the roof down towards Chloé and Bonzaniac. 

“Fly away, darling amok.” The feather fluttered into Chloé’s necklace. He grabbed a traffic cone and hurled it at the plant tendrils, keeping it from touching Chloé. Féline Sombre quickly took over the idea, batting away the tendrils with a trash can lid. (That made Chloé cringe.) A purplish mask of light illuminated Chloé’s and his own face. “Chloé, I am…er- Paon Lilas. I can sense your fear. Let me help you turn it into safety. I can grant you a construct to protect you.” 

“Then just do it already!” Chloé cried, “Please just don’t let it turn me into a sticky sappy gross tree!” A large golden bear materialized in front of Chloe. It roared and Chloé gasped. “Mr. Cuddles!”

Ladybug was... understandably confused. “What? Another Akuma?” She furrowed her brow and deepened her fighting stance.

“OH! No no no, uh, I’m Paon Lilas." He flourished his fan with a bow. "I’m here to help.”

Ladybug’s suspicion grew, but he didn’t have much of a chance to explain himself as Bonzaniac roared and turned on him, aiming their plant tendrils towards him. “Hey! I’m not really the roosting type of bird!” He dived for cover behind a car, patting himself down, “Come on, is the only weapon I get a fan? Why couldn’t I get a baton or something like that?”

The gold bear attacked Bonzaniac, knocking them down. Bonzaniac grappled the bear in plants, taking the plants away from protecting their back.

Ladybug gasped, "There! They only have so much plant matter! Féline, destroy as much plant matter as you can, Paon, distract Bonzaniac! I'm going Akuma fishing."

The two other heroes nodded. 

"Cataclysm!" Féline Sombre yelled, summoning black destructive energy around their hand. She ducked and weaved towards the center of Bonzaniac's plant mass, jumping out of the way of grasping tendrils. 

Paon Lilas whistled "Hey Bonzaniac, have you heard about Fast Fashion? I use all my outfits that way. Never worn the same shirt twice!"

The Akuma roared "All. That. WASTE!" They focused a massive amount of plant matter towards him. 

"Didn't think that'd work so effectively," he muttered under his breath. He lept out of the way, and back around the bend of the car. The plants wrapped up around the car. He whooped in triamph.

Féline Sombre finally managed to hit Bonzaniac, severely reducing the amount of plants in their control. Ladybug swung the fishing pole and caught a necklace from in the middle of the thicket of plant matter. She crushed it under foot and captured the purple butterfly that fluttered out. 

Mr Cuddly the sentibear sat on the Akuma victim. Paon frowned and glanced at Chloé. The gardener looked dazed and confused.

“Now who do you think you are?” Chloe said, crossing her arms.

The gardener smacked the side of the over large bear. “Wh- you! You littered in my garden! And refused to simply pick it up!”

“So what? That's not my job," Chloe huffed, crossing her arms. The sentibear huffed with her.

Paon snapped his fingers, pulling the amok from the necklace, the sentibear disappearing. Chloe gasped, pouting.

"Mademoiselle Chloe," Paon sighed softly, "How would you feel if someone threw trash into your beautiful hair and refused to help clean it up?" Chloe grabbed her hair, and Paon saw her horror at the concept. "Exactly. That garden takes just as much work, or more, as your hair. I suggest apologizing."

She pouted, "Fine, your garden was pretty or whatever, sorry I messed it up." She flicked her hair over her shoulder and rolled her eyes. "There. I apologized."

Féline Sombre and Ladybug chatted in the background. Féline grabbed their baton and with a light salute, she vaulted away. 

Paon's Miraculous beeped. That... meant something right?

"Birdy!" Ladybug called, walking toward him, her own Miraculous beeping. "Where did you get that Miraculous?"

"Oh… um…. Funny story-"

"I'm sorry, but you need to give it to me. It doesn't belong to you."

"What?" Paon took a step back, "Why?" 

"It's been lost. I'm going to take it back to the original owner."

Paon paled. Did Ladybug know his father? Or did his father find the lost miraculous without giving it back? Did his father know what it was? What would happen if his father found out he took it? The bubble of elated freedom popped. "That… sounds like a great, morally right thing to do… but… consider…” He took a soft step back, glancing up to find a path of escape, hands raised surrender. “I can't. Sorry, bye!" Paon ran, leaping up and away.

Ladybug moved to go after him, only for her miraculous to beep again. Sabrina had run in just in time to comfort Chloé, so Ladybug sighed and ran in the opposite direction.

Adrien tripped over himself as he detransformed in a back alley. His legs weak, and head dizzy. "Woah- is that normal?"

Duusu looked up at him with sad eyes. "I meant to tell you. The miraculous is broken... If you continue to use it... it will hurt you."

"... Does it hurt you?"

Duusu thought for a moment. "The transformation? No.... It is nice... to see another use it's power so kindly."

Adrien glanced down. He looked at the broach clipped to his overshirt. The lightness... the freedom. He nodded firmly. Unclipping it from his shirt and instead clipping it in his inside pocket. Hidden. "I'll be careful. Come on, let's get something to eat...” He rubbed his head, “I feel like we both need it."

-

Marinette just barely managed to make it to the bakery before the afternoon rush.

"Marinette! How was school?” Tom called, opening his arms for a hug. She happily took her place in her father’s arms.

"Not great.. Chloé caused another Akuma."

Tom sighed and shook his head, releasing her with a pat on the back. "At least we have Ladybug and Féline Sombre. Come on, if you can't learn in peace at school you can learn some more Dupain-Chang classics!"

Marinette chuckled and nodded, heading over to get ready to work behind the counter.

The door chimed, signaling the entrance of a young blond. She stared at him. He seemed oddly familiar. She started picturing him against all the blonds she knew, although her brain was still somewhat stuck on the Peacock Miraculous holder…. She really needed to talk to Master Fu about that. 

The boy stumbled. He was just about to faceplant into the counter before Marinette, intending to catch him- shoved him. He fell on his rear instead. 

“OH, I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” Marinette cried, moving to pull him up to his feet. He was surprisingly light, ohmy and now she just manhandled him like a human doll.

“It’s okay! You saved me from what was probably a worse fate.” He giggled awkwardly, "Thanks... I’ve been.. a bit dizzy today, I guess."

"Oh, I hope you feel better, anything I can do to help?"

"Heh, I was looking for food. Got some, er, fruity stuff?"

"Fruity, fruit. For sure, fruit." Marinette stared at him a bit longer. Finally the images and fashion magazine clippings clicked next to the boy’s face. She gasped "Adrien Agreste! You're Gabriel Agreste's son! He’s my favorite fashion designer!"

He laughed awkwardly. Rubbing the back of his head. "Yeah… That’s… that’s me."

"You probably hear that all the time, sorry! But! Fruit." She walked over to the counter and gestured at the prepared goods. "Macaroons are always good, and there's some a couple of fruit Eclairs, brioche and jam-"

He smiled somewhat stiffly, before frowning at the eclairs. He made a subtle 'come here' gesture. Marinette looked down at the eclairs herself, unsure what exactly made him frown.

He sighed, adjusting his overshirt. (Duusu settled nicely into the pocket again, glad to have been able to choose his treat.) "I think one of those is good.... Er... actually, I think two." 

He handed her the money, and she handed him the pastries. "Thank you."

She smiled, "Thank you! Come again soon. Just try not to trip, that's usually my thing."

He laughed. "Actually…” He takes a bite of his eclair, with a smile “I think I will definetly try to come in again."

"Oh! Okay, cool!"

He waved and walked out of the establishment with a small smile.

Tom leaned over as she watched him leave. "Flirting with the customers?"

Marinette gasped dramatically, "NoOo dad no. He's... just a friend."

Adrien leaned against a wall and sighed. Duusu floated up into view, taking a section of eclair. "Ah young love..."

He shook his head, "...She's just a friend..." He gasped, glancing back at the bakery with a smile, "A friend."

-

Marinette frowned, "Wait, Master Fu, do you think he could be working with Hawkmoth?"

"It is a possibility. I wouldn’t be surprised if the butterfly and the peacock had been nearby each other. If you can find out where he found it, it may help us find Hawkmoth.”

“Hm, he didn’t seem like he was with Hawkmoth. He was helpful... And he actually got Chloé to apologize?”  She was still bewildered about that. It wasn’t the best apology ever, but she still actually did it.

“The peacock wields the power of emotion, Peon Lilas will be able to sense emotion. He can very easily use that information to manipulate others into doing things for him. Even something as simple as an apology.”

She frowned, considering, “I think I understand.”

“Be careful, the peacock is not to be underestimated. Make sure you and Féline Sombre are prepared for what he might do next."

She nodded firmly. "I will be.”

-

Gabriel Agreste stared at the paused frame from the newscast on his newest enemy. Emile's painting ajar and missing a vital item. "Natalie... Where is the surveillance footage for this room?"

She silently pulled up the footage, scrolling through to find an umbrella blocking their view of their thief.

Gabriel growled under his breath and stood up. "Time to catch a runaway bird, it seems. See what you can find from the rest of the cameras in and out of the building. If there's anything or anyone out of place, you tell me immediately."

"What will you do sir?" Natalie asked, already scanning through footage on her tablet.

"Someone found and stole the peacock miraculous from right under our noses. I need to find a way to protect my identity and a lure for our heroic peafoul.”

[aalissy]

New York

Day 14 is officially finished!! And it’s a text fic which are one of my faves to write!! Plus, it’s based around the New York special which is my favorite special <3 <3. If you haven’t seen it yet, pleaseee go watch it because it’s amazing!!

AO3

Marinette collapsed back on the hotel bed with a faint giggle. She completely ignored the glare that Chloé shot her, instead choosing to focus on the rush of butterflies fluttering in her stomach. She had just slow-danced with Adrien ten feet in the air next to the moon. She allowed herself another quiet squeal, remembering the feel of his arms around her as she melted into his embrace. 

When Chloé huffed again, though, Marinette sucked in a deep breath of air. Trying to calm her racing heartbeat, she fanned her flaming cheeks. She had been doing so well before pretending to be just Adrien’s friend. How was it that one dance could bring everything flooding back so quickly?

A sudden rustle came from outside her room and Marinette quickly slammed her eyes shut. After a few more moments of silence, she slowly cracked her eyes open, hoping that it wasn’t Alya. The last time Marinette had seen her best friend, she was still dancing with Nino. Shifting rather nervously on the bed, she knew that Alya would demand answers and information that she didn’t know how to answer. Marinette wasn’t sure she was exactly ready to pretend that the dance meant nothing to her.

Breathing out in relief when no one entered, she relaxed once again. Slowly closing her eyes, Marinette yawned. She could prepare for her conversation with Alya tomorrow. Right now, it was time to sleep. 

Just before she drifted off, though, a vision of Adrien’s emerald green eyes sparkling back at her entered her dreams. Immediately, Marinette snapped back awake, blinking in shock as she sat up straight. Rubbing her eyes tightly, she scolded herself, Marinette, you need to calm down! You’re his friend, remember. Nothing more, nothing less.

With a quiet groan, she shot one last nervous glance at the door before rummaging through her purse and grabbing her phone. Content to scroll through social media until Alya came back or she got tired, Marinette turned on her phone. Just as she was about to click on an app, however, a quiet buzzing from the device made her squeak softly.

Adrien 💓: Hey Marinette! I’m just checking in to make certain that you got back to your room okay.

Her fingers trembled slightly as she held the phone in her hands. Rubbing her eyes, she double-checked to see if it really was Adrien texting her. When his name stayed the same, she gulped quietly. Nibbling on her lip, Marinette hovered over his name, debating on whether or not she should get rid of the heart. Before she could do anything, however, another quiet buzz interrupted the quiet.

Adrien 💓: You’re probably sleeping already, haha. Sweet dreams, Marinette 😄

Quickly, she scrambled to text him back. Her fingers smashed across the keys and she cringed internally when she accidentally sent it.

Marinette: akdkjfdikh

Marinette: hahaha sorry my fingers slipped 🙃

Marinette: i did make it back safe tho!!! thx for checking in

Running her fingers through her hair anxiously, she read her text messages over again. Surely they didn’t seem too awkward or eager. Gnawing on her lip, Marinette turned her phone off, certain that Adrien wouldn’t text back for the rest of the night. Proving her wrong, though, the device buzzed once again and her eyes quickly scanned the text message that came through.

Adrien 💓: Great! I made it back safe too. It was close though! Mlle. Mendeleiev almost caught me.

Marinette: omg im so glad you escaped! she might have kept you from going around new york with us! 

Adrien 💓: Yeah, that would have been the worst! Especially after all you did to let me come here.

Adrien 💓: Thank you so much again, Marinette. It means the world to me!

Marinette blushed shyly, holding her phone up to her chest as she giggled and squealed to herself. Adrien appreciated her! This was the second time today that he thanked her personally. Plus, this was their first real text conversation. Before they had just been about schoolwork and group hangouts. With another giddy sigh, Marinette went to text him back.

Marinette: it was no problem! besides i couldnt just let a friend down and it seemed like you really wanted to come 😊

Adrien 💓: Well, I know how hard it can be to convince my dad of anything so I needed you to know how grateful I was.

With her heart stumbling in her chest, Marinette stared down at that last text message. How exactly was she meant to get over him when he acted like this? Of course, she had to fall for one of the sweetest boys alive. 

Adrien 💓: And I had a really great time with you tonight too! I’m surprised our song followed us all the way to New York haha 😄

Did... did he just say our song? If Marinette’s heart had been stumbling before it was racing now. Our song! Our song! He thinks we have a song, she squealed to herself. A giant beam took over her face as a bright flush lit up her cheeks. Gasping in a breath of air, she texted him back.

Marinette: hahahaha yeah!! i didnt expect to hear that song either especially when i was floating away 😝

Adrien 💓: Those magical hotdogs were the coolest! But you were always fine, Marinette, I wouldn't have let you float away 😊

She choked out a surprised gasp when she saw that message. Quickly, she shot a glance at a snoring Chloé. Turning around, she muffled a short scream into her pillow. Why did he have to be so oblivious?! Couldn’t he see that she was trying to get over her crush on him?! 

Giving her head a quick shake, Marinette turned back to her phone. Blinking in surprise at the time, she winced at how late it already was. Knowing that she had a long day ahead of her tomorrow, she got ready to send a quick goodbye text to Adrien. Besides, she was almost positive that she wouldn’t be able to handle any more unconscious flirty texts from him.

Marinette: aww thank you so much!! 

Marinette: its getting kinda late tho so i think i might head to sleep now

Marinette: goodnight adrien! thanks for checking in on me!

Adrien 💓: Goodnight Marinette! I’ll see you tomorrow. Sweet dreams ❤️!

Before she could overanalyze the text he just sent, Marinette quickly shut her phone off. Turning onto her side, she slowly shut her eyes. This time, when a pair of sparkling green eyes entered her vision, she kept her eyes closed, falling into a deep sleep with a small smile across her face.

[cosmosrival]

Any NSFW KamaxMaster hcs, Riri? Bless us with your knowledge!

HMMMMMM..... I’VE BEEN THINKING ABOUT THIS FOR A LITTLE BIT and i don’t know if it’d count as master*servant ship headcanons but... TAKE EM!!

also jus to make sure and to get p*dos off my blog for good: these are milf/dilf kama headcanons ONLY !!! final ascension!!!!! my content aint for weirdos!!!

ok lets go!!!

kama as a lover would be... very interesting to say the least, bc since they’re the god of love, you’d expect them to play the part !!! but their kind of loving isn’t the romantic type. They’re the god of Carnal love so despite knowing everything there is to know about lust, i believe that they’d be genuinely embarrassed when talking about vanilla stuff and very very soft and tame topics. they’ll tell u about every single position u guys could do and if ure a beginner they’ll be more than happy to teach u everything they know! But ! going on dates and holding hands???? (kama voice) THATS CRINGE DUDE!!!!! GO ASK PARVATI HOW ABOUT THAT????? but they’ll come. they’ll have a bit of a breakdown if u hold their hand but they’ll be there. and they’ll be there on time

AND I THINK THAT THIS IS WHAT MAKES THEM CUTE !!!!! 

i headcanon kama as being a vers !!! but they top by default ! hell, i don’t see them being a pillow princess type, even when they’ll let you dominate them they’ll just be powerbottoming and praising you, i think they can’t hold back on being talkative during the act!! BUT THEY CAN ALSO VERY EASILY ADAPT TO THE PERSON THEY’RE WITH, so if you’re more of a beginner/shy/passive, they’ll be the one coming onto you in this... lazy way, gently Ordering you to show them more (oh yeah they’re very well aware that youre the master here but whats a master to a god? ha), reasurring you that it’ll be fine and that if you’d rather keep the lights off, you guys can do that. their hair glows and their limbs are constantly burning anyway so they’ll find you in the dark no problem. though if you’re more dominant/aggressive/comfortable then they’ll see you as a challenge, even a rival to be quite honest. they know for SURE that you’ll never be better than them, but might as well crush your hopes before they get too high ya know? so even if you have them pinned down they’ll just taunt you, ask if this is all that you’ve got. ask if you can hold on for a few more rounds. ego bruising is part of being horny !!!!!! so you better be ready !!!

kama’s buttons are overall easy to push i think, because if you choose to come onto them with vanilla little touches, cute smiles and cuddles, they won’t know how to react. THEY’RE EASY TO TEASE ONCE U’VE BROKEN PAST THIS... Strong Lusty Exterior, especially if you compliment them on anything else but their skills in bed. call em cute when they’re angry. this one is an instant kill because they’ll just... be stuck. if they get mad you’ll call them cute again. and if they don’t get mad then it’s your win. STUCK !!! and their face is RED 

hmmmm....... i think masc kama’s cum is galaxy liquid. its just regular old cum and tastes like it but it just has star/milky way patterns in it. yeah. dont ask me about this one. just take it.

i’ve also been thinking about masc kama having an apadravya piercing... even if kama themself does not have a link to the kamasutra since it’s a book about human pleasure, in chaldea they’re much closer to having the condition of a “human” since they’ve become a “pseudo-servant” (they also have a demon inside em aha! though they’re obviously still a God and should be treated as such) so despite knowing everything that’s said in the book, they’d love to boast about it. ITS NOT THEIRS BUT THEY LOVE ACTING LIKE IT IS!!! CAREFUL WHEN GOOGLING THAT PIERCING NAME THO !!! ITS A COCK PIERCING OOOPPPSSSS!!!!! tho of course, since they don’t technically have a body, they can remove this jewelry at will to satisfy you however u wish !!

my fem lean kama piercing headcanons are right here !!! same headcanon as above, they can remove em/make em disappear since they can shapeshift at will !! 

i don’t see them as the type to dress up.... first because it’s a little annoying and if their emotions go haywire the cloth might burn... but they can definitely see the appeal. their “body” is already perfect so if you have a kink for something in particular they’ll provide and make sure to hide the best parts so you’ll have to imagine the rest. (or take em off...? ;)

OH BUT YOU ? THEY’LL LOVE TO DRESS YOU UP especially if they’re topping. it’s all part of their sadistic little humiliation game so make sure to accept all of their love okay?

their relationship with masters can vary, since we’re all different aint we. Aha. but one thing will stay the same and it’s the fact that kama trusts you to teach them about soft romance. in their dialogs and bio, it says that they can’t stand dummy couples but i believe that it’s because they genuinely crave it more than anyone. (especially since Rati doesn’t seem to exist in the fgo timeline :( ) being your most favourite sex friend? they can do that. being your sole lover?? UH..... (SWEATS)

what else does ree have..... OH YEAH !! i believe that kama is overall extremely kinky and it’s hard to surprise them. but since they’re so lavish, quite elegant and have this... aura of luxury to them, i think that the Gross Kinks(u know the ones. Real bad stuff i wont mention here) are an absolute no on their list. being the god of carnal love is one thing but they have standards!!!! no i will not come back on this headcanon and if ppl try to debunk it, stay away from me blog !!

i like to think that they genuinely adore porn sites and see it all as a tribute for themself. once again, they stay off gross shit but the vanilla tag? THEY CANT CLICK IT. ITS TOO EMBARRASSING TO CLICK. help them out.... ;) (opportunity to tease +1)

they’re very good at giving massages but i think they’d prefer receiving them most of the time !! though, if you’re into them and they’re blowing ur back out/riding u, they’ll make em feel extra special just for you

i don’t know if they’d have a favourite position... they’re very versatile, so they’ll go along with your preferences

they’re very open about following what you’d like to do since they’re already good at everything!!!!! u pick !!! then they’ll dive in and eat you out/suck u off right there

they’re a big spoon by default. yep. BUT BEING THE LITTLE SPOON MAKES THEM VERY SHY AND EMBARRASSED AND ITS CUTE coax them into being a little spoon sometimes Please

i think that they’d consider everything remotely sexual a way of worshipping them, so they’ll gladly watch u masturbate even if they don’t have to actively participate

ITS HOT AS HELL DUDE... TAKE UR CLOTHES OFF

i picture them constantly wearing this... lazy, arrogant smile, especially if you’re topping. think you’re that good, huh ?

though it vanishes very quickly if you start treating them gently. tomato ! ONCE AGAIN: EASY BUTTONS TO PUSH !!!! 

they’d find toys very funny and practical. so they’re not above using those on you and they’re also into you using it on them. THEIR RANGE IS WIDE AND THEY’RE EAGER TO EXPLORE i love them so much theyre such a dreamboat

OH THIS GOT LONG SO IM GONNA STOP THERE BUT IF U MADE IT ALL THE WAY DOWN: THANK U FOR READING MY BRAINROT!!!

[yeenybeanies]

The Coliseum

i got this ask a bit ago & got to thinkin that i kinda dig this concept. so here we are! this isn’t set in ancient roman gladiator times ( tho that could be a cool story for another time :eyes: ) but set in modern, albeit more fantasy-like times i tweaked the prompt, but thanks for sending it in anon!!

ocs | abraham sun & grant summers

2,432 words

language warning; mild mentions of blood & violence

likes < reblogs!! feel free to leave comments in the tags!! thanks!! 

He's survived another day. Breath heavy, the giant collapses, knees slamming painfully onto the concrete floors of his cell. Steel cuffs and chains weigh down his arms, which hang limply at his sides. Everything hurts. Every muscle is sore. New cuts sting along his skin. His side in particular burns. That last blow he took feels like it might have cracked a rib. It hurts to breathe.

God, he’s hungry . . .. How many days has it been since his last meal? He can’t really remember. It was at least . . . four fights ago, but that’s no way to track time. 

How long has he been in this cage? This coliseum? The giant bows his head and sighs, eyes falling closed. The adrenaline rush is coming to an end, and the pain buffer along with it. It’s not the worst pain he’s felt since coming here, though. He should be able to sleep through it. Already he feels himself starting to fall forward, body ready to curl into a ball on the concrete floor and try to get some rest.

The chains rattle, giving him only a moment’s notice before they’re yanked back through the holes in the wall, pulling his arms along with them. He grits his teeth and grunts as he’s hoisted up, arms spread and body left to hang so he’s just barely able to stay on his knees. The giant looks to his restraints, to how the cruel metal presses into his skin, then turns his gaze to the cell door opposite of him.

Being held up like this usually means he’s being fed, or he’s being taken out and transported to the fighting ring. God, he prays for the former, though it wouldn’t be the first time he was forced to fight twice in one day . . ..

Even bound and gagged, the young man still fights, struggling with the two other, older men dragging him through the concrete corridors. Despite the cloth in his mouth, he still tries to shout and holler. He even tries to bite one of the men, but he can neither reach far enough, nor can he close his teeth around the fabric. It doesn’t stop him from trying, though. He is nothing if not a fighter.

“ Christ, ”  the left man––the one he tried to bite––groans,  “ this one’s feisty enough to throw out in the ring! Might last more n’ two seconds, eh? ”  His thick accent, some ugly, English-sounding prick, is difficult to understand.

“ Could be fun. ‘nfortunately, he’s got another destiny ahead, ”  says the right man. The boy glares up at the both of them. He can’t see their faces beyond the masks they wear, but he doesn’t recognize their voices. They’re just common thugs––grunts and henchmen. That doesn’t make him hate them any less, though. Whatever they plan to do with him, he doesn’t intend to make it easy for them. He digs his heels into the floor, but it only slows their pace for a moment. The left man snorts, hits him with a sharp uppercut to the diaphragm, and shoves him along while he coughs and holds back his tears.

The young man’s only just regained his breath when the men force him to turn, the three of them now facing a large, metal gate. The bars are thick. It’s a door, he realizes. It’s a large sliding door––a cell. And beyond the bars, held back up against the wall . . ..

Aw, and he’d just started to breathe normally again! But the sight before him makes the boy gasp, a new fear awake within him. The two men laugh and guffaw and make horrible noises, both holding onto the boy’s arms as he tries to kick and shove and break free. The left man gives him another punch to the gut, this one eliciting a sickening groan from him, and incapacitating him long enough for the right to type in the door code. It slides aside, clicking like any prison cell door would. The left man shoves the boy in with another ugly laugh, and the door closes behind him. Still cringing, the boy can only curl in on himself, helpless, and now trapped in a cage with a monster.

“ Enjoy your dinner, beastie, ”  one of the men yells. He can’t quite tell which one; they both sound the same. One word hits him hard, though––just as hard as both punches, and just as capable of stealing his breath: dinner. 

The two voices echo and start to fade. Slowly, still shaking, the boy pushes himself to sit, eyes wide and staring up at the . . .––at the giant man. The giant, blood-covered man.

And he’s dinner.

Confusion strikes the giant when the three figures stop at his door. Usually ten or more men come when he’s being taken out, and usually it’s only one man with a wheelbarrow that brings food. It’s never three people. The door’s opening doesn’t clear anything up either. Guards are a common sight in this hell hole, but the third one between them––that’s no guard. That’s . . . well, he looks like he’s just a normal human, snatched from the outside, much like the giant was. He grimaces as the stranger is struck and shoved in, but remains very much lost as the door closes again.

“ Enjoy your dinner, beastie. ”  

What? No. The giant furrows his brows and looks to the stranger, and then to the retreating guards. No. This has to be some sort of sick joke. It takes him several seconds to process this event, and several more to react. By the time the stranger’s seemingly caught some of his bearings, the giant finds his words again.

“ I don’t––hello? ”  He calls out, though he suspects it won’t do him any good. Still, he tries.  “ Giants don’t eat people! Hey! ” 

Silence. Of course. This is a sick joke. This whole thing is a sick joke. Giants and other creatures being captured and imprisoned and forced to fight in a gladiatorial ring? That’s a sick joke. This honestly shouldn’t be so shocking, but the giant is revolted all the same.

A whimper draws his attention back down to the stranger. Now that he’s looking up at him, the giant can better see his features. It strikes him that this stranger is a kid. He can’t be more than seventeen, eighteen years old! Oh, if he had anything in him right now, the giant would hurl in disgust. Instead, he can only sigh and stare back at him. The poor creature’s terrified of him. He doesn’t blame him. Fellow giants might be startled by his appearance; he can only imagine how a human feels seeing a fifty-foot-tall man covered in viscera.

“ Take out your gag, ”  he says finally. The boy doesn’t move. The giant opens his mouth to repeat it, but his chains suddenly go slack and pour from the walls, letting him fall heavily to his hands and knees with a grunt. That gets the boy moving, gets him scooting away desperately, as best he can with his arms bound. 

“ Ow. Easy, kid . . .. “  the giant croaks. He looks up to see him with his back against the cell bars. He could still reach him, now that his chains are loosened, but he doesn’t make any movements towards him. No need to frighten him more. Instead, the giant leans back onto his feet and rests his hands in his lap, keeping them visible.

“ I’m not going to hurt you. Like I said: giants don’t eat people. Humans included. ”  It’s an annoying misconception that the giant had faced even before this dreadful place.  “ Your gag, kid, ”  he says again, nodding his head towards the boy. It still takes him a few more moments to snap out of his stupor, but, once he does, he yanks at the gag and pulls it off over his head. Red lines run along his cheeks where the cloth had been digging into his skin. He stares up at the giant, still wordless. The giant assumes from all the gawking that the boy has never seen a giant before, or never been this close. Their kind don’t tend to interact too often.

“ Got a name? ”  It’s weird to speak. It’s weird to think that it’s weird to speak. That must mean that the giant has been here for longer than he thought. The only times he’d speak prior to now was when he’d shout and demand to be released, or yell in the ring. He’d run his voice ragged from all the noise he’d make, but still he cannot recall a single conversation he’s had with anyone here.

The boy is still quiet, still gawking up at him. He sighs and leans his head back, eyes closing. He’s so hungry . . .. Echoing his thoughts, his stomach growls rather noisily, but the giant has learned to ignore it. The boy, however, not so much. His soft gasp draws the giant’s attention back to him.

“ I’m not going to do it. Promise. ”  He doesn’t expect it to mean much to the boy, but he promises himself too. No matter how hungry he gets, he will not eat another person.  “ My name’s Abraham. I’m . . . really sorry you got drawn into this. If you can, you should try to find a way to escape. Probably easier for someone your size. ” 

Of all the things the boy expected to happen to him, being fed to a giant was not on the list. It wasn’t even within the realm of possibility. Yet, here he is, trapped in a cell with a giant. Oh, he’s a mean-looking one too. His bare torso is covered in scars and scabs and even a few open wounds––and blood. His eyes, though––the way they stare back into the boy––they don’t quite match the rest of the picture. The giant’s eyes look confused, concerned, sad. And his voice––once he’s stopped yelling at the guards and started talking directly to the boy, his voice is soft, like he’s actively trying not to scare him.

He still does scare him, but the fact that he’s ( presumably ) trying not to is . . . something. It provides some small comfort––about as small as the boy feels next to this massive being right now.

That growl, though––that growl coming from the giant’s stomach––dashes that modicum of comfort. He can’t help the gasp that leaves his now-freed mouth, though he immediately covers it with his hands.

Promises, promises.

Hell yeah, he should try to escape! The boy glances around the cell, seeing nothing but . . . cement. Cement walls and steel bars. There’s not even a proper bed in this thing. There’s only a flimsy blanket on one side and a hole in the floor on the other. The cell itself is too small for the giant; it doesn’t look like he wouldn’t be able to stretch his arms out fully in any direction, even without the chains. It’s a concrete box, is what it is, not fit for animals, let alone people, giant or not. With the giant in here, though, it feels all the more suffocating. No matter where the boy moves, he still looms over him.

That does raise another point of interest, though: if the giant really were intending to eat him ( at least right now ), well, he’s plenty capable of grabbing the boy. There is nowhere in this cell that he could go where he would be out of the giant’s reach now that his chains are loosened. 

Maybe this giant––Abraham ( kinda unexpected that a giant has a human name, though when was the last time someone named their kid Abraham? )––really doesn’t intend to eat him. For now.

The sense of danger isn’t gone, but it’s lessened enough for the boy to take his eyes off of Abraham for more than a moment. He turns his attention to the rope still binding his wrists together. It’s tight and uncomfortable, both in how it forces him to hold his arms, and in how it digs into his skin.

“ Want me to get that for you? ”  Fuck. That voice is soft, but the presence is still overwhelming. The boy tightens his jaw. Of course not. He doesn’t want the giant to be anywhere near him! But that’s . . . unavoidable. No matter how either of them move, so long as they are both in this cell, he is going to be uncomfortably close to the giant.

Slowly, tentatively, the boy lifts his arms, offering his bound wrists to the giant. Abraham momentarily looks surprised, like he hadn’t expected the boy to agree ( and he is, truthfully, just as surprised at his own cooperation ), but he says nothing. He reaches his massive hands forward––fuck. The boy flinches back.

“ It’s okay, ”  Abraham says.  “ Take your time. I know you’re scared. ” 

Fuck! He doesn’t like hearing it! It’s true––completely and entirely true––but the boy wrinkles his nose regardless. He takes a breath to steady himself, and tries again, lifting his arms to the giant. This time, though, he squeezes his eyes shut and keeps his head turned away, sparing himself from the frightening image of Abraham’s hands coming towards him. It has . . . relative success in easing him. He still flinches when he feels those big fingers brush his sleeves, when he feels them poke and prod and tug at the ropes, and snap them off like they’re cobwebs.

The relief is instantaneous, though. The boy releases his held breath and pulls his arms back, rubbing at his wrists. His skin is bruised with ligature marks, but overall it feels much better to have his mobility back.

“ Thanks . . . ”  the boy mumbles, still not looking up at the giant.  “ It’s, uh . . . it’s Grant. ” 

“ I’m sorry? ”  Geez. He’s going to have to get used to the giant speaking. There’s still something unnerving about a voice coming from so high up, yet still being so close.

“ My name. It’s Grant. ”

“ Ah. Okay. How old are you, Grant? “ 

Again, Grant crinkles his nose. What’s it to the giant?  “ ‘m not a kid. ” 

The giant huffs. It’s dry, almost a laugh.  “ You look young enough to be my kid, kid. ”

Grant returns the huff, indignant. Topic change.  “ Where are we? Why are you here? ” 

Abraham’s expression falters. Any sliver of humor he’d had is gone just as quickly as it came. He breathes a heavy sigh and looks up to the ceiling, too low for him to stand up in. 

“ You’re in an underground coliseum. Most people brought here are forced to fight. It’s kill or be killed. ”  His head falls.  “ They kidnapped me and made me a modern day gladiator. And you, apparently, have been reduced to food. ” 

[patchwork-panda]

If A Moment Is All We Are (Ch.1)

This is the Dazai x OC/”reader” with bits of Kunikida x OC/”reader” fic I created.

I’m just gonna post the entire text of first chapter below the cut bc even tho it’s at zero hits, I still feel there’s people out there who might want to read it...

OC is based off “The Story of Your Life” by Ted Chiang, the basis for the movie “Arrival” w Amy Adams.

Shout-out to @discoten for Beta-ing this first part :)

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

Pale gold. Rose red. Dusky purple.

My eyes traveled from one brightly colored glass panel to the next, finally landing upon the deep azure blue of the Virgin Mary’s veil. I kept my eyes trained on her face, trying to stay focused on the massive stained-glass windows, the beautiful art shining all around me, anything to pretend I was at this gallery under different circumstances. Shafts of colored light as bright as shattered gemstones danced across the floor in the late afternoon sun, flitting over the black-clad bodies of the two men who lay prone nearby, their silent forms looking unnaturally still against the vibrant carpet.

I swallowed uneasily, a familiar sort of nausea creeping up from the pit of my stomach as I watched the dark pool of liquid around them grow wider and wider, the smell of iron heavy in the air...

Squeezing my eyes shut momentarily, I wrenched my attention away from them, trying to go back to staring at the windows but found myself looking once again into a pair of steel-gray eyes. There, at the entrance of the gallery, standing so still he may was well be a statue himself, was the young man who’d slain the two security guards lying on the floor nearby. With his pale face, stark-white cravat, and torn black overcoat, he reminded me of a vampire, or maybe even a god of death—his very image called to mind a painting of the Grim Reaper I’d passed on my way into this room. If only I had heeded the warning...

If I had, then maybe I wouldn’t be staring into a pair of piercing red eyes right now—the eyes of a shadowy monster attached to the back of this man’s cloak. As if sensing my thoughts, the demonic creature bared its dagger-like fangs and growled, its bloody, gaping maw stretching wide.

I kept my hands in the air. My cold, sweaty palms trembled on either side of my face as I returned my attention to the stained-glass windows around me. I’d had my hands in the air for so long that my arms were getting tired but I couldn’t drop them—I didn’t want to think about what would happen next if I did. Then the headlines tomorrow would read: “Attack at the South Pier Art Gallery. Three dead: two curators and one visitor.” In perhaps a day or two, they’d identify my corpse as “Kusunoki Kyou, aged twenty, a college drop-out and local shut-in.” They wouldn’t be able to get a hold of my parents; they were overseas and I hadn’t seen the rest of my family in so long, I wasn’t even sure if they were still in Chiba any more. Maybe the reporters would interview one or two of my former classmates... But would they even be able to find anybody who still wanted to talk about me after I shut myself away so abruptly?

“Hey, how have you been? Akutagawa-kun?” the man behind me called out brightly, the lilting tenor of his voice jarring, given our current situation.

I kind of figured he was crazy from the moment we met, but not this crazy.

What kind of man tries to play catch up with a friend (acquaintance? I honestly had no idea how they knew each other) while holding a gun to somebody’s head—my head? Even though I couldn’t turn around to see his face, I could picture his cheerful smile, the twinkle in his intelligent brown eyes, the layers of bandages wrapped around his neck. I could practically hear the gears in his head turning behind me as he watched Akutagawa and calculated his next move, the tone of his voice giving absolutely nothing away.

There was a tiny click—the sound of the safety being shut off—and I grimaced as I felt the metallic chill of the handgun’s muzzle pressing more firmly against the back of my head. Akutagawa immediately shot a dirty glance over my head at the person holding me hostage. He spat out a single name:

“Dazai-san.”

I went back to staring at the windows.

I really shouldn’t have left my apartment this morning.

***

Ramen.

Instant ramen was the reason I decided to venture out of my glorified broom closet for the first time in probably weeks. Had I known that the craving for convenience store food would lead to my being shot to death in six hours’ time, I would’ve ignored the growling of my stomach and taken my chances with starving at home instead.

Maybe.

I’d stayed up far too late the night before binge-watching the latest season of a new anime I’d picked up and my best guess for when I’d finally fallen asleep at my computer was probably around three in the morning. When I finally woke up (sometime around noon), I had Pocky crumbs in my hair, my pajamas were sticking unpleasantly to my skin and my stomach was grumbling from the lack of real food in who knows how long. Unfortunately, my pantry was empty, so I did what any normal person in my situation would do: put off going outside for another couple hours by picking another anime to watch. I only realized I really needed to get going when I finally reached into my giant bag of snacks and found it empty.

Dread building in the pit of my stomach at the mere thought of going outside, I threw off the pink bunny pajamas that I hadn’t changed out of in a while and tossed them on the growing pile of clothes on the floor. I hadn’t done the laundry in weeks and it was anyone’s guess which pile was “clean” and which was “dirty” (I’d lost track of which was which days ago). However, I didn’t have a real need to distinguish between the two until today... I stepped into the bathroom, walking right past the tiny cracked mirror above the sink without really looking into it and pulled the shower curtain closed. I knew what I would see: a greasy, dead-eyed otaku version of the creepy girl from The Ring, with long black hair and reddish-brown eyes, only instead of a haunted child, I’d see an adult who failed to get her life together after just two years of moving out of her relatives’ house.

Half an hour later, I’d dressed myself in an old pair of jeans and a large sweatshirt emblazoned with the logo of a magical girl anime and was desperately fishing around in my kitchen drawer for the thing I needed most: a pair of gloves. I hadn’t needed to go outside in so long that I’d forgotten to stock up on nitrile gloves and it was with an enormous amount of relief that I finally retrieved an old pair at the bottom of the drawer.

I was too tired and hungry to notice the small hole in one of the gloves when I pulled them on, nor did I notice when I put on my face mask and tied up my hair. Honestly, I was just lucky the torn one didn’t rip completely away from my hand when I was putting on my shoes but maybe it would’ve been better if it did. Maybe then I wouldn’t have ended up at the art gallery...

But I wasn’t thinking about my gloves when I prepared for my short trip; I was thinking about food. After all, it was supposed to be a quick trip, just a short walk through the hallway and down the street to the nearest convenience store, then back. It honestly might not have been so bad if everything that happened after hadn’t gone so horribly wrong.

The first thing that went wrong happened the moment I stepped out of the building. Blinded by the sudden appearance of sunlight, I smacked right into an old lady walking in front of my building and immediately fell on my butt.

“Oh my, Kyou-chan!”

I groaned as I slowly got back to my feet.

“Is that you, Kyou-chan? Nobody’s seen you in weeks; it’s been so quiet on your end of the floor that we thought maybe you moved out!”

“No, I’m still here, Yamazaki-san,” I replied, recognizing the woman’s face before her voice.

Mrs. Yamazaki lived on the same floor as me and was kind of a busybody, but a caring one. The evening I’d first moved into the building, she’d knocked on my door around dinner time and asked if I knew how to play Mah-Jong. One of her friends had canceled on their group last minute and they’d needed a fourth. I’d declined as politely as I could but was still somehow dragged out of my room by the boisterous old woman and forcibly socialized over a cup of hot genmai-cha. I’d meant to return the favor by dropping by with some kind of snack in hand but never got around to it.

I could feel the guilt curling in the pit of my stomach as I took in her tiny form, her smiling face but all I could do was smile weakly as she remarked on how malnourished I looked and how long my hair had grown since she’d last seen me. Then she spotted the tote bag in my hand.

“Kyou-chan! Are you going shopping?”

“Not really, just getting some ramen at the convenience store.”

Mrs. Yamazaki’s eyes widened.

“Is that all you’ve been eating these days?” she asked, sounding concerned.

“N-no. I’ve had...”

I thought back to my box of strawberry Pocky.

“...Other things.”

She frowned.

“That won’t do,” she declared.

Without waiting for me to respond, she grabbed my arm and pulled me towards the nearest crosswalk.

“Yamazaki-san!” I tried to wrench my arm out of her grip but she was surprisingly strong for her age. Or maybe—I cringed—maybe I’d just become extremely weak after months of being a shut-in and not getting any proper exercise. Drawing commissions hardly worked the arms.

“This isn’t the way to the convenience store! Yamazaki-san!!”

Before long, we were inside an actual grocery, Mrs. Yamazaki chatting away merrily as she pulled vegetables off the shelves and tucked them away into her own basket (I’d run into her just as she was about to go anyway). Occasionally, she’d grab something green and leafy and stick it into the basket she’d forced into my hands, and she kept doing it until she’d buried the thick layer of ramen and junk food that lay at the bottom of the bag. When she was satisfied with the composition of my groceries, she nodded approvingly and hurried me towards the cash registers.

“There now,” she laughed once we were outside and I was carrying a very heavy bag of things I hadn’t actually intended to buy. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

She stepped off the sidewalk and two things happened very quickly: one, a truck ran a red light, barreling towards her as she attempted to cross the street, and two, as I dropped my groceries and rushed forward to save her, my right glove caught on something sticking out of my bag and finally ripped.

“Yamazaki-san!”

I reached out—my fingers stretched towards her.

“Look out!!”

Several onlookers screamed as I seized Mrs. Yamazaki by the back of her jacket and yanked her back. We fell to the ground, crashing down onto the sidewalk just as the truck sped through the intersection, honking madly as it flew by. Somebody behind us was yelling for the cops, several people had taken out their cell phones and as one of the grocery store employees rushed over to help us up, I felt an odd stinging sensation in my right hand.

I looked down and saw that my right glove had been completely shredded. Though I still had coverage on most of my fingers, much of the pale blue nitrile was hanging off my right hand in thin, ragged tatters and there were several long scratches on the palm of my hand from where I’d scraped it against the sidewalk when I fell.

The store employee, a stout, middle-aged man with bulky arms, helped a very shaken Mrs. Yamazaki to her feet, and though I could feel her trembling as she clung to me, I tried to shift my posture as she leaned on me. I couldn’t let her touch any part of my bare hand.

“Are you alright, ma’am?” the man from the store asked.

“Y-yes, I’m fine,” Mrs. Yamazaki answered, her voice quavering as she looked up at the man and then at me.

Tears sprang to her eyes and before I could stop her, she got down on her knees and bowed deeply, touching her forehead to the ground in gratitude.

“Y-Yamazaki-san?”

“Thank you!” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You saved my life, Kyou-chan!”

“Yamazaki-san, please,” I dropped to my knees as well and tried to help her up. “You don’t need to do that. Please, get up.”

As the store employee and I raised Mrs. Yamazaki to her feet, she chuckled, her eyes wide with wonder as she looked at me.

“And to think, if I hadn’t met you on your way out this morning, I might be...”

She shook her head slowly and I exchanged a worried glance with the man who’d come to help.

“I don’t know where I would be if you weren’t here, Kyou-chan,” Mrs. Yamazaki breathed. “From the bottom of my heart, thank you.”

Though she seemed to be completely fine, with no broken bones or serious injuries, she continued to cling to me, and I felt her grip on my arm tighten as the employee informed her the police were on their way and we may want to stay to give a statement. Panic slowly rose in my chest as I felt my uncovered wrist coming out of my sleeve but as I carefully began to extricate myself from Mrs. Yamazaki’s grip, she suddenly turned to me and looked me up and down. She gasped.

“Oh, Kyou-chan!”

Her eyes had fallen upon my scratched palm.

“You’re bleeding!”

I yanked my hand away.

“I’m fine, ma’am.”

“Let me see it,” she demanded, grabbing my wrist. “I insist.”

As the store employee ran inside to get some band-aids, Mrs. Yamazaki gently picked up the edges of the ripped nitrile, pulling it away from my bloody, scratched-up palm, oblivious to my attempts to get away. As the glove gradually peeled away from my hand, I felt the warmth of her wrinkled skin brush against my fingers.

And then it happened.

The sound of canned laughter echoes throughout the room. Flickering green and white light casts odd shadows upon the walls. The cat-shaped clock above the television reads half past eleven in the middle of the night but there is another sound that is audible over the muffled noises from the TV. It beats in time with the clock and it sounds like something dripping, something liquid and warm.

Tick.

Tick.

T i ck.

The clock cat’s eyes shine with unnatural green light— light reflected from the television screen. They are blank , open, and staring, just like the eyes of the woman draped oddly over the side of the television set, her eyes wide with fear and shock.

Mrs. Yamazaki clutches at her chest. Blood dribbles thickly from between her fingers, her breath comes in wheezes and gurgled gasps as she slumps further and further down the side of her TV set. She leaves a bloody hand print on the side panel and falls to the ground.

Someone is laughing.

I am laughing.

The sound is deep, unfamiliar. There is a large, bloody kitchen knife held fast in my fingers, which are thick and hairy. I move my arm to check the wound Mrs. Yamazaki had inflicted on me and I see the vivid tattoo of a monstrous green snake, its fangs sinking deeply into a cracked human skull.

The television returns to its regularly scheduled programming. A time stamp appears in the upper right hand corner...

I came to, to the sound of somebody calling my name and immediately let out a sharp hiss of pain. While I was out, I had dropped to my knees, scuffing my jeans, and I could feel the thin skin over my kneecaps bruising horribly against the concrete sidewalk. Thankfully, that was all but my hands were shaking and I had a massive headache. Looking alarmed, Mrs. Yamazaki, not a single knife wound visible on her body, held my hand in both of hers with a troubled expression on her face. She had been the one calling me.

“Oh my goodness! Are you alright, Kyou-chan? You’re as white as a sheet.”

I immediately ripped my hand away and stuffed it into my pocket, just as the store employee returned with bandages. As he stuck out his hand to give me the bandages, I took a step back, shrinking away from the two of them.

“I’m fine.”

I stuffed my hand deeper into my pocket, ignoring the stickiness of the drying blood.

“Are you sure?” Mrs. Yamazaki asked, worry clouding her voice.

“I SAID I’M FINE!!”

That came out way louder than I’d meant it to. The people around me looked startled. I could hear the whispers. My Ability, “The Story of Your Life,” the curse of seeing visions of the future of those I touched, had manifested at the worst possible moment. I picked my bag off the sidewalk and ran.

[dickd0c]

STRIKE

CHAPTER SIXTEEN — “day four, pt one”

Nic woke up at about 11:00 A.M. the next day. She checked her phone and frowned seeing how late it was, rolling over to turn onto her other side.

On the other side of the bed, Alpha was sound asleep. Nic had noticed for the past few nights that he never held her or cuddled when they went to sleep. It was like while they were having sex—or more specifically, while he was teasing her, considering he hadn't given her a single orgasm yet—he was openly flirty and humorous among other things, but as soon as they were having any other interaction, he was back to cold and distant.

Nic rolled her eyes. She was in no mood to deal with his volatile behavior. She swung her legs off the edge of the bed and plopped down onto the hardwood floor, adjusting her wrinkled clothes before heading to her room. There, she brushed her teeth and took a refreshing shower. Nic hadn't told anyone, but she had applied for a job interview a few days back, and the interview was today. Despite waking up so late, she still had time to make it if she didn't stall.

Nic quickly dressed herself in a white blouse, black pencil skirt, and a blazer. She grimaced at the blazer before putting it on, noting to herself that she should get a new one—she'd had that one since her debating days in high school.

Slipping on some modest heels and checking to make sure her hair wasn't too unruly, she grabbed her phone and portfolio folder. Nic quietly walked out of her bedroom and into the kitchen where Tank was leaning against the island shirtless. When he saw her walk in, he dragged his eyes up and down, quirking an eyebrow.

"Why are you dressed like that?" he asked her, setting his phone to the side.

"Job interview," Nic replied shortly, her voice giving away her nerves. She flattened her palms out on the sides of her skirt to hide their slight shaking. She really wanted this job—as nice as it was to simply lounge around the apartment all the time, she wanted to get out sometimes too.

"Oh, what's it for?" Tank smirked.

Nic opened her mouth, but she was interrupted by the rumbling of her stomach. Tank moved around the island to get to the fridge, pulling out some milk and grabbing the box of cereal that was already sitting there. Nic smiled at him gratefully.

"It's for this European makeup company. They have a location pretty close by, and they're looking for lab assistants," Nic said, smiling nervously as she grabbed the bowl of cereal from Tank and set it down in front of her on the island.

"Oh, I think I vaguely remember you telling me you do science shit in college. What's your major again?"

"Material sciences," Nic replied, muffled by the bowl she pressed to her lips to down the rest of her cereal.

"Sounds smart," Tank said thickly, a goofy grin on his lips.

Nic rolled her eyes, smiling as she placed her bowl in the sink. "I have to leave now, though. Would you let everyone know I'll be back in maybe two hours?" she asked, straightening her skirt.

"Sure," Tank shrugged. "I think everyone decided to sleep in, they might not even be up when you get home."

With a nod, Nic was out the door with her phone clutched tightly, walking down the steps of the apartment building to see her Uber was already waiting for her. She opened the door to the back and climbed in rather ungracefully, giving a small smile to the driver before he took off. Nic spent the twenty-five minute ride rubbing her sweating palms on the side of her dress, glancing out the window every five seconds expecting to arrive. She'd occasionally pick up her phone to aimlessly text someone or play a stupid game, but then she'd drop it and go back to being nervous. She opened up her portfolio and checked to make sure her resume, references, pens, and notepad were all in there, and then ten minutes later she did the exact same thing again.

Nic's phone vibrated against her thigh, and she picked it up instantly. What if the company was calling to tell her the interview was off?

She looked at the screen to see that Athena was texting her, and sighed out of semi-relief. Using her thumb, she slid up on the screen to see the message.

Athena Received 12:06 PM good luck bitch! ur gonna kill it

Nic grinned, shaking her head.

Athena Sent 12:06 PM i'm so ducking nervous literally shoot me

Athena Received 12:06 PM they'd be idiots not to take u. tho idk how ur lab skills are but still

Nic sighed, glancing out the window. As she looked back down at her phone to respond, the speeding car hit what must have been a road bump, making her phone fumble in her hands before it flew to her feet. The driver didn't even mumble an apology as Nic rolled her eyes and bent down to grab it, seeing the screen was still on messaging. She typed out a quick "i don't deserve you babe" and pressed send, turning her phone off and sliding it inside her portfolio.

A little later, the phone vibrated again. She pulled it out and swiped the screen open.

Alpha Received 12:09 PM what?

Nic frowned, wondering what his issue was. That was until she looked up just a bit to see the very first message in their conversation, sent by her just moments ago.

Nic's jaw dropped open as her fingers fumbled to type out a response.

Alpha Sent 12:10 PM shit. sent that to the wrong person sorry

He responded quickly.

Alpha Received 12:10 PM sure you did

Alpha Sent 12:11 PM it wasn't for you

Alpha Received 12:11 PM are you really that insecure around me

Nic rolled her eyes and turned her phone off. She was already nervous, so she didn't need Alpha making her annoyed too. A minute later, when he probably realized she wasn't responding, her phone buzzed with another text from him.

Alpha Received 12:12 PM what time is your interview?

Alpha Sent 12:12 PM 12:30

Alpha Received 12:13 PM what are you doing?

Nic huffed—what was with all the questioning? It was like she had already begun her interview.

Alpha Sent 12:13 PM sitting in a car.

Alpha Received 12:13 PM you should sit on my face instead

Nic barely had time to gasp at the message, because just as she started choking on her spit, the Uber pulled up to the make-up company she would be interviewing at. Shooting a smile and a thanks at the driver, she stepped out of the car with her phone and portfolio, watching him zoom away like he couldn't wait to get away from her. Nic frowned, slightly offended. She wasn't even a bad passenger.

You get three stars for attitude, she thought to herself, tapping at her phone as she turned and walked into the main entrance of the building.

Tucking her phone into the pocket of her skirt, she walked up to the receptionist typing away at her computer. When Nic got closer, she could see the screen reflecting on the forty-some year old woman, cringing when she saw the main screen of a popular dating website on it.

"Excuse me?" she cleared her throat, seeing the receptionist click the screen away.

The receptionist peered at her over her glasses, scanning her up and down with a scrutinizing look. "Here for an interview for lab assistant?" she asked monotonously, as if she were tired of Nic's presence already.

Damn, why are strangers so annoyed around me today?

"Yes, I am," Nic replied, straightening her back. She felt her phone vibrate against her thigh, but she ignored it.

The receptionist pointed to the hall on Nic's right, a long manicured finger waving in the air. "The third door on the left. Good luck."

Nic thanked the receptionist, turning on her heel to walk slowly down the hall. She noticed that with every step she took, she could hear her heels clicking on the floor. It made her straighten her posture and lift her chest up—that sound always made her feel like a powerful woman.

She pulled the third door on the left open, peering inside to see a few people about her age seated on their phones before she stepped inside herself. A few of them glanced up at her as she walked past them, but nobody said a word. Nic took a seat at a wall where nobody else was, looking up as she sat to see two doors on the other side. She presumed that's where each interview was taking place, two at at time.

Nic pulled her phone out to check the time, while at the same time it buzzed again with another notification. She swiped up with a scowl, seeing two new messages from Alpha.

Alpha Received 12:14 PM i woke up with morning wood and you weren't there to help me :(

Nic nearly laughed out loud at the sad face. It was truly astonishing how Alpha's behavior changed when the topic was about sex versus when the topic was about literally anything else.

Alpha Received 12:16 PM are you ignoring me?

Alpha Sent 12:16 PM yes

Nic shook her head at her screen, tapping the sides of her phone as she waited for his next messages. She couldn't wrap her head around it—he could be intimidating, terrifying even, one moment, but annoying and overly sexual the next.

Alpha Received 12:17 PM that's rude. might just have to punish you

Alpha Sent 12:17 PM do you ever think about anything other than sex?

Alpha Received 12:17 PM do you?

Touché.

Nic glanced up around the room, getting an odd feeling that someone was watching her. However, all the other people were just like her—staring down at their phones. Someone sniffed, and Nic turned her head instantly to see a girl with straight black hair blowing her nose.

Shaking her head, she looked back down at her phone.

Alpha Sent 12:17 PM yeah, I'm thinking abt my interview

Alpha Received 12:18 PM hmm. I'm thinking about you

Before Nic could even finish reading his short message, he sent another one

Alpha Received 12:18 PM *your ass

Alpha Sent 12:18 PM what did I do to have to put up with you?

Alpha Received 12:18 PM oh didn't you just say you don't deserve me though?

Alpha Sent 12:19 PM shut up

Alpha Received 12:19 PM make me

Nic stared at her phone, twiddling her thumbs, unsure of what to say.

Alpha Received 12:20 PM nica?

Alpha Sent 12:20 PM yea?

Alpha Received 12:20 PM good luck

Nic smiled small to herself, tucking her phone back into her pocket just as one of the doors swung open, a girl with wild blonde hair storming out the room without giving a glance to anyone. Everyone waiting looked up at her with open mouths, watching her leave the waiting area with furious tears down her eyes.

Nic gulped nervously.

"Anica Jean?" a woman peeped through the open interview door, scanning the seated people with tired eyes.

Nic stood up, straightening her pencil skirt, catching the woman's attention. She gave her a small smile and a wave, following her into the interview room.

The room was a little small, making Nic feel a little claustrophobic, but that was probably her nerves. She sat in a comfy little chair in front of a table, behind which the red-haired woman joined an older looking man.

"How are you, Anica?" the man asked, sounding much more awake than the red-haired woman looked.

"I'm great—Dr. Chaves, right?"

He nodded, smiling. "And this is Dr. Yanovna."

"Good afternoon, I hope your days have been fine so far," Nic greeted, hoping her nerves didn't show through her smile.

"Thank you—so to start off, would you mind telling us why you want this position?"

And just like that, her interview began, a circle of them asking her questions and her responding in ways she hoped made her seem smart but modest at the same time. Slowly, her nerves seemed to ease. All the questions they were asking her were questions that she had expected and prepared for.

"So, Anica, what would you say your greatest weakness is? How are you working on them?" Dr. Yanovna asked, twirling a pen in her fingers.

Nic opened her mouth right when her phone vibrated against her thigh. The people in front of her just smiled at her, probably because this has happened in other interviews as well. She cleared her throat. "Well, I guess it's both a strength and weakness. I'm good at following rules and guidelines, but that also means sometimes I'll follow people's words blindly—"

Her phone vibrated again, catching her off guard.

She cleared her throat. "—especially when I think highly of them. It's something I'm working on, both in professional and daily situations—"

Another buzz.

"—by forcing myself to take a moment to think over the possible consequences—"

Again, her phone vibrated.

Dr. Chave cut her off before she could continue. "Ms. Jean, perhaps you should check your phone. It may be urgent."

"Thank you," Nic hushed gratefully, slipping her phone out of her pocket. It lit up, displaying one name.

Alpha (3)

Nic bit her lip, forcing herself not to glower at her phone. She quickly silenced it, slipping it back in her pocket, swearing to herself that she had silenced it that morning before she even left.

She looked up at her interviewers rather warily, glancing between them. "Anything else?"

"Actually," Dr. Chave cleared his throat, placing his hands over each other, "I think we've heard everything we needed to." He glanced at Dr. Yanovna, who nodded in agreement.

They both stood up, holding their hands out to shake hers.

"Oh," Nic said quietly as she stood. She shook Dr. Yanovna's hand followed by Dr. Chave's, making sure her handshake was firm despite the crushing feeling in her heart.

Dr. Yanovna seemed to catch the look on her face. "Don't read into this," she said, a reassuring smile on her lips brightening her tired eyes just a bit, "your interview went well. You should hear back from us in a few days."

Nic instantly brightened, so obviously so that Dr. Chave chuckled at her. "Thank you, really, thank you," she said, gripping her portfolio to her chest as they opened the door for her. "And have a wonderful day!"

She didn't even hear the next name they called out, deafened by her rushing blood, a grin on her face as she walked to the door to leave the waiting room.

"Wait!"

Nic turned around to see a blond man stand up from his chair and approach her. She frowned, wondering what he wanted.

"Yes?"

"Were you at that protest? Where the old man fell?"

Nic's frown deepened. "Yes... who are you?" she questioned in an accusative tone.

"Don't you remember me? I got dragged away with you?" he chuckled, and Nic got a good look at his puppy brown eyes and floppy blond hair.

Nic's eyes widened. "Oh! Yes, yes I do remember you. Did you manage to get away? One of my friends pulled me away."

The man shook his head, a frown playing on his lips. "No, I got arrested for assaulting an officer—which I guess I kinda did, but he had it coming. Anyway, they let me go after a few days. Their evidence was more incriminating towards them."

Nic winced slightly, eyeing the man and memorizing his face. "How are you going to explain that in your interview?"

He shrugged. "I'll just be honest, I guess. I'm Lucas," he said with a sweet smile, holding his hand out for her to shake.

Nic took it and shook, smiling herself. "I'm Anica—Nic," she introduced herself.

"Can I get your number?"

Nic's eyes widened slightly, her hand slipping from his.

Lucas rubbed the back of his neck with his hand, keeping eye contact with her as his smile turned bashful. "There's something attractive about a girl who'll attack cops with me."

Nic smiled, which instantly made him brighten up. "Sure," she said, taking his unlocked phone and typing her number in. "Good luck—it's funny that we'd be interviewing for the same position," she said with a small laugh, passing his phone back.

"Yeah—but I heard they're taking three people. Maybe we'll be two of them," he said with a small smile, dropping his phone into his pocket.

Nic tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear. "Maybe. I know I wouldn't mind. Listen, I have to get going now, but shoot me a text, yeah?"

"Yeah," he said with a soft laugh, and Nic could feel his eyes on her as she opened the door and walked back out into the hallway.

Nic was glad to see a different Uber driver on the way home. She watched the houses pass through the window, still riding a high from being told that the interview went well. Her phone buzzed all of a sudden, lighting up to show two tames.

Alpha (3)

Unknown (1)

Nic slid up, opening Alpha's messages first.

Alpha Received 12:40 PM so have you considered the whole sitting on my face thing?

Alpha Received 12:42 PM wait are you in your interview right now?

Alpha Received 12:42 PM crap sorry. you got this

Nic then moved her fingers to open her message from who she assumed was Lucas.

Unknown Received 12:51 PM hey this is Lucas. just thought this would make you laugh—I got up to get a coffee from the hallway and managed to spill it down my shirt. now they're going to think I'm a criminal AND dysfunctional.

Nic smiled down at her phone before turning it off and looking back out the window, a deep sigh flying past her lips.

[artnerd1123]

A Familiar World

A Terrifying Tempest  ——————————————

Things weren’t always peachy in Roo’s early days. Aiden’s out of the house, and our favorite little paint cat comes head to head with something he’s never seen before. It’s more than a little scary.

This is a two part chapter! The first part is here!

The masterpost for AFW can be found here. The chapter post for AFW can be found here.

——————————————

oh? two chapters in two days? what am i, some sorta competent??? nah, i’m just riding on a wave of productivity. Happy to have this one out tho!!! ‘s about time i finished this ;w;

enjoy some fun times with roo and his feral form, y’all ;3

WARNING FOR BODY HORROR! if that’s not your deal, skip what’s between these ( ~~~ ) and keep readin!!!

                                                      ————

Rain hammered against the villagers’ roofs. Thousands of its tiny droplets pounded against soaking wood. Lightning slashed through the sky, leaving jagged wounds of light against the ashy clouds. They vanished as soon as they’d come. Thunder roared deafeningly, like some monstrously angry beast. The wind howled back in fury. In the void-like darkness of the night, there were only a handful of people out, trying futilley to prevent the storm’s damage. All else stayed huddled in their dark houses. There was only one thing to do in a storm such as this. Wait it out. And hope that your fear didn’t invite it inside. For some, this was a feat greater than the squall. For some, the tempest outside was much more than a storm. For some… it was a nightmare.

                                                     ————

Thoughts swirled around in Roo’s head. The thunder outside threatened to drown them out, but they hissed louder in protest. He trembled fiercely as he dug under the blankets on Aiden’s bed. No matter how much of his paint stained them, they were safe, right? He was safe there, right? Right? The little cat curled himself into a tighter ball. His ears pressed against his head, eyes squeezed shut. Why hadn't his originator come home yet? Had something gone wrong outside? Where was he? It was so dark, so loud, so horribly nerve-wracking. Where was he?! He desperately scrambled to calm his rising panic. It was like trying to stop the tide from coming in. Sooner or later, there’s nothing you can do to stop it. No matter how hard you hold on, there’s bound to be a swell that sweeps you away. Unfortunately, the water was getting higher. And Roo didn’t know how to swim. Wh-what’m I suh-supposed teh do? He whimpered, paws over his ears. Aiden’s not- h-he’s not h-heah- Move. Wh... what? The sudden impulse- no, urge- nearly brought his fear to a halt. Where had that come from? … For the first time, the cat realized his chest felt much too tight.  His anxiety trickled back like a creek before a flood, bringing violent shivers with it. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all. Get out. Run. His breathing picked up as he glanced around. Paint spattered blankets and darkness surrounded him. Where could he go? Where could he get to? Aiden- Aiden said he couldn’t leave the house right now- he couldn’t get out anyways! Have to go. Have to go right now. He couldn’t get enough air. Were the blankets starting to curl closer? He grit his teeth, baring tiny desperate fangs at the darkness. B-but where? I don’ know where i could- Go! NOW! GET OUT! The kitten pawed at his head, cringing at the claws that sliced through his fur. Why wouldn’t it stop?! W-where do I go I’ve got nowhere to go I c-can’t- I can’t! GET OUT OF HERE! Panicky whimpers started bubbling up from his maw, his fur following suit. It felt like his whole body was boiling. As if something was building- expanding- rising- like the ocean before a tsunami. W-why was he- what was he- wh- What’s happenin to me?! Where’m I supposed to go?! I’m- I’M STUCK! THERE’S NO WAY OUTTA HEAH-! NEED TO GO GO GO GO NOW RUN- The cacophony of wailing instincts and fear and terror was too much- too much- too much bad bad stop sTOP STOP I CAN’T I CAN’T I C-CA-HAN’T-

Roo felt something inside of him give a horrible, splintering snap. Everything suddenly stopped. It was just… silent. Numb. Jarringly disconnected.  But only for a moment.  Everything came crashing back down with a vengeance.

~~~

The little kitten let out a frightful cry as pain surged down its spine. Bubbles popped and roiled across its fur. It felt like the horrible flashes outside had come in- latched onto it- sent white hot tingling down all its limbs- the familiar thrashed about under the covers, just trying to get free. It’s head was a whirlwind of shrieking and agony. Nothing was processing besides pure panic. At least, not mentally. Magic was already at work. The kitten’s limbs began to stretch like taffy. It felt as if boiling lava was pouring all over it. Malleable and impossibly bendy, it’s arms and legs quickly stiffened into steely rods of bone. What began as tiny paws started sharpening into wicked claws. Each digit practically had a sickle attached to it- all the better to rend things in its path. Fiery limbs and flailing claws tore at the sheets desperately, hoarse gasps accompanying the ripping of fabric. A round of crackling sounded off from its back, and it shrieked again. It bucked and thrashed as the line of bones lengthened, making a stubby tail long and an aching body longer. The rest of its form was struggling to play catch-up. Ribs pushed out against skin, vertebrae poking up in a garish path towards its head, all the growth making a skeletal nightmare out of the once-fluffy kitten. From the crunch of its muzzle, it was clear that its skull had some reshaping to do. It’s screams were muffled now, but slipped out with increasing fervor. A stubby snout morphed into a slavering muzzle, baby teeth gnashing into deadly fangs. Big ears were shoved flat against its head, paint dripping down in a waterfall over ringed orange eyes. The blindness only stoked its terror higher. The thrashing became horribly violent, dumping the familiar off the bed and onto the floor. Shreds of the sheets clung to razor claws as it howled in pain. And just when it seemed things couldn’t get any worse... … The familiar’s form began shifting. Getting bigger. Taller. Swelling from an already-stretched foot and a half of agonized cat to a five foot horror panther. And all it could do was roar.

~~~

                                                       ————

“There’s too much water coming in-!” “We don’t have enough lumber left for this-!” “We’ve just got to give it up and move people until the storm dies down-!” Shouts like these were barely heard above the deafening pounding of rain and thunder. The storm had come up so suddenly that a family’s roof caved in. Too much water, not enough time to put up spells. Aiden had been laboring alongside three other questors to get it fixed for hours- all to no avail. No matter what they tried to do, their magic sputtered out in the rain. The work just left them all shivering and upset. And, for whatever reason, Aiden was feeling sore. His chest in particular was bothering him. The more time he’d spent working, the more it was bugging him. He’d chalked it up to his lack of training as of late. Either way, it’d gotten bad enough that he needed a break. The questor took a moment to breathe, setting down a large wooden board. It was as soaked as he was, if not more so. Not the best for building at all. He sighed in frustration, swiping bits of loose hair off his face. He grimaced as his sopping hair stuck to his hands. Evidently, his waterproof cloak hadn’t helped. Revaew. This was horrible. As much as he liked water, he hated being drenched like this. They weren’t making any progress here. Looking to his companions, he opened his mouth to suggest they give it a rest- Only for a deafening roar to cut him off. Blue mist flared to life on his fists before he knew what he was doing, gaze instantly searching for the source. He couldn’t see anything through the driving rain, and hearing? He might as well have been underwater. What was that? Was it a monster coming into town? Now, of all times? A look at his companions yielded just as much confusion. “The hell was that?!” One of them shouted over the rain. “No clue!” Aiden called back. “Whatever it was, it sounds big and mad!” “Should we send someone over to check it out?!” Another yelled, gesturing towards the source of the noise. “Probably!” Aiden spoke up again, following their gesture. Was it on the same side of town as his house...? “Someone’s gotta take care of it before anythi-“ Another roar rang out through the rain. It was a horrid, desperate sound. A zing of pain tore through Aiden’s chest, stealing his words as much as the sound. He grimaced, gasping. What in revaew’s web was going- It was then that something clicked. The chest pain. In the middle of a storm. More work meant more time away from his familiar. His familiar, who got stressed when he… left… Oh. Oh no. The questor didn’t wait another second to process. He was off like a shot. Yelling an apology over his shoulder, he dead sprinted over the wet stone path. Puddles splashed freezing water all over him. From the way his boots slid with every step, it was a miracle he didn’t fall. The thump of his belt pouch on his hip was practically promising to leave bruises. But he didn’t care. All he could think about was getting back to his familiar. The third roar just made him pick up his pace. Dark house after dark house slipped by as he wove his way through the village. His place was on the edge.  For the first time since he’d moved here, he regretted picking a house so removed from the main square.

As aiden ran the final stretch to his cottage, the squelch of mud beneath his boots had never sounded sweeter. He was drenched, dirt splattered, and had a nasty scratch from bashing his arm into a mailbox, but he was almost there. Rather unfortunate that the sight of his home didn’t have the same effect. The windows were dark and empty. The next roar was so much louder now. In a flash of lighting, he could see something big zip past the glass. Oh Revaew- was that Roo? His chest was already aching, but it was downright painful now. Putting on one last burst of speed, he made it to the door before thunder started to rumble. The questor nearly slammed into it, gasping. Thanks to a short overhang over the door, he was out of the rain. … And in more than a little pain. His lungs heaved desperately. His legs were on fire. His bruised hip and scratched up arm were throbbing. His head, too, had decided to ache. Sure, he was here. But at what cost?  Maybe running that fast was a bad idea, he thought dully. However. It had gotten him there. And the mad dash was over. All he had to worry about now was getting inside. Adrenaline starting to wind down, he pressed an ear against the door. He could make out anxious yowling under the sounds of the storm. He flinched at a dull crash and thunk, grimacing at the accompanying cries. Yeah, he needed in. He needed in before Roo hurt himself. If he hasn’t already, he thought fearfully. Waving a hand from his head towards his feet, he muttered a quick spell. Water came rushing off him in waves. It sent a violent chill down his spine, but at least he wasn’t wet. After all, he wouldn’t be able to touch his son if he had rain clinging to him. Slowly, he took one more breath. He faced the door. A little grumble of thunder roiled across the land as he stared at the damp wood. One last hurdle to clear. His hand raised to take the handle. I’m here, Roo. With a soft click, the door slowly swung open. I’m home.

Everything was loud. Cold. Dark. So, so dark. No matter how many times it tried turning its head, how many directions it looked, everything was dark. It felt like it was suffocating. The loud rumbling and crashing wasn’t helping at all. The thundering of rain was grating on its ears. It couldn’t stay here. Lashing out, it roared again and again. Pleading- begging someone to come help. All that met it was pain as its paws and tail snagged on unseen assailants. They were everywhere! All around it! There was no way to run from them. And it tried. Oh, how it tried. It kept bashing into invisible walls. Smashing into obstacles. Roaring and thrashing and scrambling around in the dark. Slipping desperately into a new space, only to bash into something else. An unending nightmare with deafening sound. … Until something new cut through the cacophony. A creak. Long and soft, bringing a freezing draft with it. It froze, back arched. Fangs bared. Low yowls drifting from its maw. Smells tickled at its nose, but it was too worked up to identify them. All it knew was something had just walked in the door.

Aiden’s eyes widened in shock. Hand trailing to his face, he just… stared. He hadn’t known what to expect. Even with his memories of feral familiars, even after the pain in his chest, even after the shadows and yowls from inside the house… he had no idea. But he knew, instantly, what was standing in the darkness of his house. Or, more accurately… who. Roo. The questor stood silently in the doorway, across the room from a five foot long panther. Paint dripped steadily from every part of it, leaving streaks and puddles on the floor. Mangy fur stood anxiously on end. Fearful breaths hitched through deadly jaws. Though its eyes were covered in a waterfall of indigo, Aiden knew its gaze was on him. He didn’t know if he could move. The panther wasn’t budging either. They seemed to be at a standoff. But how long would this last? Minutes? Hours? Seconds? Someone’s gotta make the first move, Aiden thought grimly. Might as well be me. Holding his breath, he took a hesitant step forward. The panther’s ears flicked towards him. It curled its lips a bit higher, tail twitching. Aiden paused. Okay. One step at a time, then. Slowly spreading his hands, he tried for some words. “... hey roo. I’m back,” Aiden called softly. Where the step set the panther on edge, the voice received a warning yowl. Its spine curved higher, claws digging into the wooden floor. It looked like a skeletal fluffball with how much fur was puffing up. Aiden tried not to flinch. He just stood his ground. If he was gonna get through to Roo, he had to keep going. “It’s- it’s just Aiden, bud,” he tried again. “You know me. Nothing to be afraid of.” The name gave the panther pause. The sounds of driving rain seemed to fade as it thought. Aiden. Aiden. It knew that name. But… from where? Its brows furrowed, a halting yowl drifting from it. It wanted to keep the person away… didn’t it…? … then why did it wish they’d come closer? Aiden advanced a bit more. Gently, as the panther hesitated. Though it bristled again, it didn’t make any noise. It just crouched. Aiden eyed it uncertainly. “... you ok, Roo…?” he continued. “It’s alright. You’re safe.” The panther shivered. Meowed softly. Safe. It was… safe? The person… they… no, he was… was safe…? It’s tail curled around its feet. Nervous. Afraid. Aiden took another step. Nothing happened. Another. Nothing. Two more, and he’d be right next to the panther. He was almost close enough to touch it. Yet, he stopped. The panther couldn’t see. It was so afraid. He had to make sure it knew it was safe. He had to. “... roo…” he started softly, crouching down. “It’s okay. Really. Aiden’s here. Dad’s here. You’re safe.” The panther trembled. Another soft meow slipped out. A questioning sound. A skittish sound. It knew the person was right there. It wanted him closer. Please, come closer. Safety was nothing without him. Without… … without… Aiden. Silently, everything fell into place. Tears rose to Roo’s eyes. Aiden. Oh Revaew. Aiden. His body shook as he tried to process, little huffs bubbling out of his mouth. There he was. The familiar was back, but his fear had gone nowhere. It was still so dark here. He didn’t know what to do. He just shivered, pawing anxiously at his eyes. ‘Aiden?’ he tried to say, meows coming out instead. ‘D-dad? Aiden? P-please- please, i-i nuh-need help-’ The questor understood the moment Roo teared up. To call his sigh relieved might have been an understatement. He closed the gap without words. Pulling his familiar into his arms never felt so sweet. Roo latched onto him. Aiden did likewise. Just sitting there, quietly shushing the big kitty. “Dad’s here, Roo…” he murmured. He held Roo as his sniffles bubbled into sobs. “You’re safe…” He held him even as his painted form started running like a busted faucet. “You’re alright…” He held him as his body shrank down smaller and smaller. Held him as he morphed back into a scared little kitten. Held him as little paws clutched handfuls of his shirt. Just… held him. Eventually, Roo tried to speak. His little voice broke and mewled too badly to make out words. But Aiden knew what he meant. Cradling his familiar in his arms, the questor got to his feet. He shut the door with a small wave of magic. The mess could wait for the morning. They weren’t going anywhere but bed. Roo mewled again as he carried him back to the trashed bedroom. Aiden shushed him quietly. Gently. “You’re safe, Roodle,” Aiden hummed. “I’m here.” Carefully, he wrapped the kitten in a torn blanket. Good enough for now. Good enough to sleep. He settled himself up as best he could in bed. Just letting roo curl up on his chest, arms still cradling him. The rain was the only sound for a little. Ever present drumming from the sky. Roo dozed off easily.

After awhile, a bit of thunder rumbled over the house. Roo shivered in time, curling up tighter. “... mrr…” Aiden’s hand gently smoothed Roo’s fluffy fur. Tired. Half awake. But still determined. “I’ll be right here, Roo. Don’t worry.”

“You’re safe.”

[stuckwith-harry]

hey you, i only followed you recently and I really like your hinny fanfics and your poetry. Would you mind telling me about your process when you write? I really wanna learn how to write properly and you seem to take your craft so seriously. How do you built a story, how often do you edit, how much time do you spent on your work, what do you try to go for,...? Thanks xxx

Anon, this is the coolest ask I’ve EVER received, and I’m hanging it on my wall next to all the colour-coded flashcards with poems on them. This is going to be LONG, and by no means exhaustive - I’m gonna jump around and ramble a bit and if there’s anything specific you wanna hear more about, please ask! I fucking love talking about writing!

I’m gonna put most of this under a cut, but before we dive in: yes, I tAkE mY wRiTiNg sErIoUsLy in the sense that I’d like to publish some original bodies of work in my life and to have physical copies of them exist on a bookshelf that’s not my own. I don’t need it to pay the bills, but if you googled my full name I’d like for, like, a poetry collection to show up and not, I don’t know, the two poems I got published in a regional newspaper when I was eight.

(And please let the record show that they’re fine poems for a primary schooler. The cringe years came way after that, kids.)

So, even having some ambitions in the industry, the reality is that I’m a 19-year-old kid with a keyboard and a dodgy internet connection who discovered fanfiction when she was twelve and got hooked for life. We’re going to retire the idea of “writing properly” for now, because writing is supposed to be fun and I haven’t actually gotten accepted into that Creative Writing Bachelor’s degree I so desperately want to do. YET. Don’t let the fancy writing blog (@jessicagluch) fool you into thinking I know what the heck I’m doing. But, okay, with that out of the way, let’s get into what I’m personally doing right now, yeah?

Fanfiction

You asked about process, and the truth is, I don’t … really have one. For the Muggle/FWB AU called “Let Me love” I just published, I actually wrote a pretty detailed outline that I then filled in, which was fun, but it’s not a habit exactly. I’d written a lot of assorted scenes and pieces of dialogue for that one, too, so I had a lot of material and just had to put all the scraps and pieces in order and stitch it all together. After the brainstorming, word-vomity part of writing Let Me love, my #1 task was figuring out where everything went, and making sure it’s all there.

As soon as I’d written a full first draft, no gaps, and the anatomy of the whole thing had somewhat clicked into place, I moved away from it for a while. Wrote something else. Came back maybe a week or two later, polished up the prose a bit very late at night.

Figure out when your creative hours are, if you can pinpoint it at all. Mine are precisely “I was supposed to be asleep two hours ago and I’ve got an important thing tomorrow” o’ clock. Sigh.

Just - leave it alone for a bit, come back with fresh eyes. I love writing Let Me love - I’m working on part 2 right now - but after you’ve fucked around with the same sentence fifty times, you get sick of it. And I did. At some point you have to decide to put down the pen and let it be.

Especially because fanfiction isn’t something you’re writing for a publisher - hopefully, you’re writing it mostly for you - no one is holding a gun to your head to get rid of every last adverb or stuff like that. I can do what I want, MOM. I am allowed to make the thing I’m writing as tropey and campy as I want and hold up a big old middle finger to the rules, if that’s what I want to do.

Fanfiction, to me, is this grand, batshit writing playground. That’s why I fell for it in the first place - it’s inherently self-indulgent and hedonistic and that you can write everything EXACTLY as you please is the primary purpose it serves as a genre. So go wild.

(Process-wise, the one thing I do very consistently is making moodboards and playlists. I like having some inspiration material to swim around in, which helps me figure out what the story looks and feels and sounds like in my head. 

Every fic has a soundtrack. SOUNDTRACKS ARE IMPORTANT, PEOPLE.

Like, Let Me love is all coloured lights and night-time London and texts left on read. It’s neon signs and wearing somebody else’s t-shirt, messy bedsheets and hangover breakfasts and quarter-life crises.

This is the Pinterest board.)

What I pay most attention to is the stuff that gives the text depth beyond the surface. I look for metaphors - and I personally prefer the ones that carry through the whole thing, ideas we explore throughout the story and revisit at the end. I look for themes that hold a story together beyond the plot. I look for subtext and imagery and I want symbolism, goddamnit. 

(That’s the poet kicking in.)

And of course, I’m a product of my generation, so I love referencing other bodies of work and subverting tropes and stuff like that. Hey kids, intertextuality is fun!

(Like, do you see what I did there? See how the phrase “hey kids x is fun” in itself is a reference to something? See??? I’m a fucking genius.)

I think we need some examples. Allow me to toot my own horn for a minute.

In the Halloween 2018 oneshot I wrote, which is about Harry grappling with the anniversary of his parents’ death when he’s a little older, he visits the graveyard with Ginny and Lily Luna. Ginny comments that “it’s freezing”, to which Harry responds with the titular, “you’re warm”. And yes, it’s October, it’s probably cold. They’re keeping each other warm. And yes, it’s maybe about comfort in harsh situations in general, a more metaphorical warmth, if you will. I get it. 

But when you remember this exchange is taking place on a graveyard, you might start to wonder about warm, living bodies as opposed to cold, deceased ones. And then you think about how this whole story is about the living remembering - in a sense, living with - the dead. And how it’s about death as a part of Harry’s life. And you can probably guess by now that all my literature teachers fucking adored me.

(But he’s also choosing a side here, maybe. But I’m merely the author, you don’t have to listen to me at all. My words beyond the words don’t mean shit unless you decide they do and even then you’re going to find yourself knees-deep in a debate around authorial intent in record-time. In the age of “Nagini was a cursed human woman all along”, I’m not sure I want that.)

I also reference other pieces of work a lot. Often poems, and even more frequently, songs. The songs in Let Me love are VERY IMPORTANT and I can’t show you the full playlist right now because SPOILERS. But the chapters are split into sub-sections via song lyrics. Those are part of the playlist. There’s also a lot of referencing songs in general because Harry is a big music fan in this one, but that’s just indulgence on my part. If I want to make a 21st century Harry a Mitski stan, then I will. And I did!

(AND Let Me love has a Friends reference. For funsies, but also, for much more than funsies.)

“I love you / please do not use it” was inspired by a poem by Savannah Brown called “organs”. (It’s linked in the author’s notes at the beginning.)

“It’s two sugars, right?” borrows and/or references a ton of lines and phrases from T. S. Eliot’s The Hollow Men. Most noticeably:

Sublety isn’t my middle name, exactly. (The forget-me-not-blue sky in The Bride On The Train, anyone?)

In short: I like when my fanfictions are worth rereading. I like when you can come out the second read having found a little more than you did the first. I like when you can wander around a little, and, like a treasure hunter, make some strange new discoveries.

Lastly: of course, writing from your own experience helps. Spy on your own life. Collect all the ways in makes you feel, like a thief, write it down, memorise it, put it in the story. Reuse! Recycle! ✊🏻

I fortunately don’t relate to Harry’s childhood trauma, but the feeling at the beginning of “We’ll figure it out” - which is a story set shortly after him and Ginny find out she’s pregnant and he’s struggling to connect with everybody else’s simple bliss, because he’s terrified, and he’s terrified of admitting he’s terrified - that was real. That “wait a minute, this moment is amazing. I’m supposed to be the happiest person on the planet right now. Why am I not feeling it? What is this emptiness? Am I not happy right now? Why am I having doubts? I’m not supposed to have any doubts! What the fuck is wrong with me?”, that was lifted from a specific experience.

Side note, I’m really proud of that one.

Okay, poetry! 

Where there is even less rules and more fucking around ensues!

I read and promptly lost a quote recently about how explaining a song sort of defeats the purpose. (I’ll link it here if I ever find it again.) In some ways, poems and songs work really similarly, and I think it applies here as well: if you could really explain the whole poem in one sentence, or a few sentences, if you could accurately and concisely summarise exactly how it feels, then you wouldn’t really need the poem. My favourite poems (or songs) tend to be the ones that outline a really specific emotion via a few powerful images, but I couldn’t precisely tell you what the emotion is. Like, I know exactly what this thing is saying, I know this exact feeling, I GET-GET it, but don’t ask me to explain the thing, just READ the THING, and you’ll KNOW.

Mitski does this really well. Like, I couldn’t explain to you what Last Words Of A Shooting Star makes me feel, but it does. I can tell you that “I am relieved that I left my room tidy, they’ll think of me kindly when they come for my things” cuts through me like a hot blade but I can’t pinpoint exactly why and I don’t want to. All I know is she Gets It, and that I want her writing chops, goddamnit.

Or, like, look at Laura Gilpin’s Two-Headed Calf. Yeah, I’ve read that poem a hundred times and thought a lot about all the themes it’s presenting me with. But I have zero desire to explain those themes to you, because I’d kind of be robbing it of its magic. I don’t want to tell you what it’s about. I want you to read it and I want to simply sit with the knowledge that we know, we Get It, that “twice as many stars as usual” kicked you in the shins, emotionally speaking, as much as it did me.

Few words, max impact, is key.

In Mary Oliver’s words, we want something inexplicable made plain, not unlike a suddenly harmonic passage in an otherwise difficult and sometimes dissonantsymphony - even if it is only for the moment of hearing it.

I’m realising right now that leading with these shining examples and then following them up with my own thing is nerve-wracking. But I like to think that I accomplished something like that with a little poem I wrote called Basements.

It’s is based on the prompt “back to nature” and follows that, uhm, somewhat loosely, a little subverted. I think it’s about impermanence and nostalgia and the fact that the places we lived in continue to exist even when our lives in them don’t anymore. It’s about that and a lot of other things. Maybe. The truth is, I don’t want to explain it to you: I just want you to read it, and then I hope that it made you feel something, and I’m going to trust that you Get It. Maybe you don’t get the same things I did, but that’s great. I’d love nothing more.

Before it was all those things, it was a poem about my life. The neighbourhood with the yellow house across the graveyard that I spent nine mostly happy years in. (The house, not the graveyard.) Every single thing in there is true: my sister really bust her lip and we both cried; wild lilac really grew there; we did spend most of our summers catching tadpoles, and yes, that neighbourhood was a construction site from the first day we lived there to the very last.

And I really sat in the driver’s seat of the family car about a year ago and watched it from afar. I didn’t come up with that - it’s my life. I only went on a scavenger hunt through my own memories, through the places and records and mementos of my life, and arranged a few specific anecdotes in a way that would give them meaning.

It’s kind of what I’m proudest of when it comes to my poetry - that I get to just live my life and see the metaphor and the meaning and symbolism as I’m experiencing it. I sat in the car and I thought, huh, that’s definitely making me Feel A Thing right now, that I’m sitting in the driver’s seat looking at this place I haven’t really been to in years, my childhood home, where I don’t live anymore. That I drove here myself.

I think that, when done right, specific makes universal. If you arrange a kaleidoscope of memories in just the right way, what it’s making you feel will speak for itself, and you won’t have to explain it. Most people who’ve read “basements” probably didn’t spend countless summers playing in literal holes, originally dug out for basements that were never built because no one wanted to move there. Holes that then grew full of weeds and wild lilac and felt like miniature jungles right outside our parents’ houses. It was perfect, it was specifically mine, but the feeling behind it is universal, I think.

Like, that’s how half of Taylor Swift’s RED works. That’s how most good Taylor Swift songs work. That’s why the bridge in Out of the Woods is so good and why I love New Year’s Day so much and it’s EXACTLY why All Too Well is considered her best song by so many people. Because she zoomed in on the details of her life and let the world take a look. Because “we dance around the kitchen in the refrigerator light” is a line in that song. THAT’s why it MAKES YOU FEEL THE THING.

Back to poems? This:

So we tell them all about the dayWe planned revolutions on my bedroom floor, or how we onceSpent an entire Monday lunch break making life plans over ice creamAnd most of our parties talking politics over beerWe both paid for ourselves.About the days you drive me to school. In your carI am the girl, front-seat passenger of our lives,Who does not need reach for the steering wheel –The road is alright. 

isn’t fiction. These are my memories, carefully selected and re-arranged for Politics at Parties Boy.

I didn’t make up these film stills of a non-romantic relationship that never became anything other than non-romantic because neither party ever made a move. What I did is look at my own life like it’s a piece of fiction. If these memories were a movie, you could pluck them apart and say, see, the screenwriters put this scene here to communicate that.

The truth is, I am the screenwriter and the protagonist and the actress and the director and the camerawoman. I looked at a teenage girl who refused to let her friend buy her a beer at a school party and decided “huh, I guess that tells us everything we need to know” because I was that girl. 

And I did pay for the beer, so we’d never move into “let me buy you a drink” territory. He was already driving me to school.

That’s my best lesson on poetry, really. I look at my life like it’s a piece of fiction and then I make it one. I put personal memories in poems meant to be read by other people, I overinterpret everything that happens to me, am literally constantly thinking about how to work every knock-back and struggle into my narrative arc and look for symbolism in anything from the date, the weather, and the colour of my front door. I watch myself in third person all the time and thus become my own muse. I’m the painter and the painting.

It’s a somewhat narcissistic and masturbatory approach to poetry, but as far as writing about your own life goes, it’s what works for me.

As far as writing about not yourself goes - well, I’m a narcissist and I’m bad at that, but I wrote a poem about the Mars rover Opportunity that shut down this February called Spirit shuts down and Opportunity feels no tremble, no ache. For stuff like that, if you don’t happen to be Struck TM by a lightning bolt of inspiration (which is the exception, not the rule), a good old-fashioned mind-map helps. I just let my robot grief go wild on the page for a bit and what I ended up writing about was death and the human condition and being a teenage girl, maybe.

I really enjoy taking two concepts/ideas and juxtaposing them, watching a theme unfold in the overlap. Like, it’s a poem about a robot AND about being a teenage girl and in between those two lies a poem about the futile attempts to teach a robot human emotion. Maybe.

It’s a poem about how my mum always cries at the airport and about me making my own happiness my priority and it kind of ends up being about my intense guilt of making my parents watch me change and grow and leave.

It’s about the night I wandered through a quiet street in Central London at 1 a.m. and realised that the city of my dreams sleeps like any other place, that people wake up early and make coffee and go to work and have bad days here. That it’s not all dream. It’s some people’s lives. But it’s also about watching another person sleep - the way someone’s face changes when they do.

In the middle lay a poem about finding a friend in a lover. Not the daydream, but my life.

Lastly, I can’t talk about my own poetry without talking about my darling poem 5 disasters. It’s my pride and joy. Like, you could kill me write now and I’d be like, it’s okay, I’ve written the poem I want to be remembered for and it’s this one. I wrote it in less than a day and every time I think about the fact that I wrote

I cravedsomething more violent than death, somethingviolent enough to bea beginningand for my life to be thousands of themI wantednothingto remainexcept the girl that sentthe disastersand survived -may this wasteland bewhere I find her.

… I lose my shit a little bit.

(5 disasters was a rarity in how quickly I wrote it. It often takes me weeks. Sometimes months. There’s poems I’ve been meaning to write for years now and I still haven’t found the words. Take your time.)

5 disasters is a lot of things, but within the context of the poetry collection it’s hopefully going to exist in one day, it serves as almost an instruction manual for metaphors: here, the floods and rainfalls are always change and the forest fires are always my highschool demons and my friends and how they look the same. The colour yellow is always referencing the same love. Basically, I like pinpointing my symbolisms and then crafting a poem around them. You end up creating something like an in-poem universe that you get to navigate like a fantasy novel. Like you’re telling a story about a natural disaster, but it’s all a metaphor, Hazel Grace.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. As I do.

I hope this serves as a starting point of sorts, anon. Most importantly, have fun, don’t concern yourself with all the rules too much. Experiment, be bold, read lots.

Again, if you’ve got any questions, I’d be thrilled to help. Thanks for the opportunity to toot my own horn to this outrageous degree, it’s been a blast.

[because-of-a-friend]

Time Travel Series Pt. 1

MASTERLIST

Seungcheol | Jeonghan | Joshua | Jun | Hoshi | Wonwoo | Woozi | DK | Mingyu | Minghao | Seungkwan | Vernon | Dino  

CHOI SEUNGCHEOL 

-Ok once the boys start going off on their own more, like once they’re comfortable traveling by themselves

-Coups goes long periods of times where he constantly travels, and then long periods of times where he doesn’t jump at all

-When he does travel tho

-Coups can almost always be found in the 90s

-No one’s really sure why he doesn’t go more exciting places, but he just usually doesn’t 

-He won’t admit it, but it’s purely because of how sentimental he is

-Like he just loves going back to the near past and looking back at how everything used to be

-He’s a big fan of even going back to see his younger self and the other members just to watch them all live

-He gets really cheesy and gushy about knowing how happy and successful they’ll all be someday 

-But still, he doesn’t admit it

-He just comes back to the present acting like he went back just to take awful photos of the members in their awkward stages

-”Hey Jun, when were you gonna tell us about this haircut you had?”

-”hYUNG WHY DID YOU TAKE THAT PHOTO???”

-But anyways, Coups stays “close to home” 

-So there’s this one time, around December where he’s been jumping a lot

-So he’s like, ok time to take a break and stay in the present awhile

-He’s apparently not very good at getting his head in the present because his head is completely up in the clouds when he runs into you

-Like literally runs into you

-And he’s like “Shit, sorry, are you alright?”

-And then he like really looks at you

-And he just thinks “wow they’re really cute”

-And you’re just flustered cuz a handsome boy is over here blushing as he apologizes to you

-”It’s cool, I’m fine”

-”You wanna go get coffee?”

-”I’m sorry what?”

-And then he’s cringing internally cuz he just asked you out and you literally met .2 seconds ago and it was only because he ran into you

-But you were just so attractive and he was so flustered and

-”Sorry, I meant like, do you want me to buy you a new coffee? I kind of knocked yours on the ground...”

-You were just gonna tell him it was fine

-You were rushing home to finish a paper due later that day

-You knew you could finish easily

-But you had pulled an all-nighter

-And you knew you were just gonna fall asleep if you didn’t drink any coffee

-”If it’s not too much trouble, I would actually really appreciate that”

-So he happily nods his head and walks with you into to the coffee shop you had literally just come out of before he ran into 

-And Coups just kind of sits there all embarrassed as you order, because obviously everyone in there had seen what had happened

-They take awhile to make you another coffee 

-So both of you are just sitting there 

-And you decide to strike up a conversation because

-This guy could have been a total jerk and just run off after he ran into you

-And he was waiting with you to make sure you actually got your coffee

-So you two start talking

-And something just clicks

-Like that moment you meet someone and know that they’re easily going to become your friend

-You feel that with Coups like immediately

-And hey, he gets your number 

-And then you guys just become best friends

-You guys are always with each other when it’s possible

-You tell each other everything

-You have the same kind of humor so you always crack each other up

-You guys just work well together

-Except

-There’s one problem spot

-Coups just disappears sometimes

-Sometimes it’s not that big of a deal

-Like he’ll go hours without texting you

-And you’ll just shrug it off, cuz hey he’s probably at practice

-And then other times it’s a full day

-And once again you just tell yourself he’s really busy, he’s an idol after all, he can’t dedicate all his time to you

-But then sometimes it’s more than one day

-And you get kind of worried

-Like what is he even doing

-You try not to get overly upset or really mention it

-But it is distressing when you ask him about it and he doesn’t even have a real excuse

-You try not to argue with him but occasionally you’ll make a sassy comment on it to express your displeasure 

-He just tells you not to get upset, to trust him cuz it’s not that big of a deal

-So for awhile you stay mostly quiet about it, just to see if anything gets worse

-And it does

-He disappears for like a whole week

-Bc sometimes Coups isn’t great at timing his jumps to appear back moments after he left

-But like, you’re a wreck 

-Cuz your best friend is just gone for a whole week

-You don’t hear from him or anything about him

-He’s just... gone

-So when he gets back

-Boy are you mad

-Like wow you’ve never yelled at someone before

-But you finally did

-You didn’t want to

-And you felt guilty about it

-But you were so worried about him

-”Seriously Seungcheol, anything could’ve happened to you”

-”[Y/N]”

-”I mean it, what was I supposed to think?”

-”[Y/N]”

-”I get that you’re busy and I shouldn’t expect constant attention from you, but not even one text the entire week?”

-”[Y/N]”

-”I was so worried about you Seungcheol”

-And then you’re crying

-Because this was a tipping point for a lot of your emotions to come flooding out

-And Coups just feels the weight of the world on his shoulders

-He’s always felt kind of guilty for not telling you, and making you worry like this

-”[Y/N] I can explain, but like it’s a lot”

-And you just look at him all confused as he takes your hands

-And then suddenly

-You are not where you were a second ago

-You’re in some random field

-And then suddenly Seongcheol is just yelling

-”[Y/N] wait I can explain! I can explain!”

-Because you’re now hitting him cuz honestly what kind of dark magic is this boy using to do what he just did

-And then you bolt

-And Coups’s heart just drops

-Because shit, y’all are in the 1800s and if he can’t find you, you’ll be stuck here

-So he chases after you 

-He finally catches up to you

-It doesn’t take him and his long legs very long

-He just holds you there as he explains everything

-And you just gotta sit there for a long while

-You gotta process what’s going on, where you are, and how badly Coups managed to handle it all

-”Like I know that there probably isn’t a guide book for you time travelers, but a warning would be nice BEFORE you just randomly take people back in time”

-”Note taken”

-Once you’ve kind of calmed down you look around you, hoping that being more familiar with your surroundings will help more with your nerves

-”Where are we anyways?”

-”Late 1800s, in a field a picked specifically for you”

-Your sarcasm appears

-”Wow you picked out a field, how... incredibly kind of you Seungcheol”

-He rolls his eyes and turns you around

-As he’s turning you, you’re thinking “I mean this field does seem oddly familiar, like I feel like I’ve definitely seen it before”

-And once he’s done turning you, you’re facing this random man

-And he’s just out there... painting?

-And then time stops

-”That... that’s...”

-”Vincent van Gogh”

-”But... but he... he’s...”

-”Your favorite artist, yes I know”

-And you just look back up at Coups

-You’re kind of tearing up again

-You feel guilty for being so mad at him

-You’re still overwhelmed by everything going on

-And you’re kind of thinking you might love Seungcheol

-You’re also realizing he might love you too

-So you just kiss him

-You definitely didn’t expect your first kiss with Seungcheol to be in the 1800s with van Gogh not far away

-But that’s how it happened

-And to you it was pretty great

-So after that he just takes you with him always

-He wants to show you everything he can

-And just go on adventures with you always

-Like him you’re a fan of taking long breaks from time travel

-So the next December you’re both lazing around your apartment, talking and napping

-You’re about to fall asleep when a question pops into your head

-”Seungcheol?”

-”Hm?”

-”Out of all the times and places you’ve traveled, which one is your absolute favorite?”

-You can tell he’s about to fall asleep too by the pace of his words

-But you’re content and happy to wait for his answer

-You heart flutters as you fall asleep to the sound of his voice

-”The sidewalk corner where I met you”

[andystanberg]

Gonna Take Ya (Away From Harm)

Word Count: 2340

Genre: angst, fluff, hurt/comfort

Warnings: crying, parents yelling at their kids, emotionally abusive parents (not sure about this one, but just in case)

Summary:

Dan has a shitty night and Phil makes it better. Set in 2009, sometime before October.

A/N I’ll be getting busier throughout the next few weeks, but I’ll try to keep fics consistent.

Dan tries to pretend like it doesn’t bother him when his parents start making ever so subtly snide comments about his relatives. He doesn’t quite understand why they would – the relatives in question all seem nice enough, but apparently not.

Even so, what his parents are saying shouldn’t affect him like that. Yet it does. Dan knows that it has nothing to do with him but at the same time… He’s all too familiar with the insult-that-could-pass-as-a-joke routine. His family – both immediate and distant – enjoyed talking about him as if he wasn’t there. Dan gets it; he’s lazy, has gotten fired for his own stupidity at all jobs he has ever worked at and to top it all off, he has recently dumped his girlfriend of three years. His parents are under the impression that she dumped him. (He doesn’t say anything, just sits there as they joke about it.)

Most of the time he fades into the background during family events. He understands that he’s a pretty easy target. That doesn’t make it hurt any less though.

Instead of saying anything in defence, like he knows he should, Dan casts his eyes downward and grips his fork tighter. The conversation quickly moves on and he almost forgets it. He almost lets himself believe that nothing else will go wrong tonight.

-

Dan races to his room, fighting the urge to slam his door shut, because he knows it’ll only make things worse. He’s about to cry, he can feel it, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t like the fact that he’s going to cry over the stupid shit his family says. He doesn’t like that he’s proving his parents’ “too sensitive” argument they bring up every time he has the audacity to not like being yelled at.

Most of all, he doesn’t like crying. His mum might see, and he knows she’ll come in if she does and tell him to toughen up – obviously more sugar coated – in a soothing voice and he’ll accept. That’s just what he does. So instead of going out and pretending that he’s fine, Dan wraps his blankets around him tighter, furiously wipes his tears that have just started and closes his eyes. He hears his parents having fun and joking around outside, unaware that he’s currently bawling over how much of a disappointment he is to them. He chucks a pillow over his head for good measure.

-

The next thing he knows is that he’s waking up at 1am in uncomfortable jeans and a sweaty shirt.

He immediately shuffles out of them, chucks the offending articles of clothing somewhere in his room and tries to sleep. Surprise, he doesn’t.

After a few more minutes of tossing and turning, Dan gives in and pulls out his laptop from where it is under his bed and turns it on. It’s there in case he steps on it, which he has never done. (It’s actually there because his dad got mad at him for leaving it lying around and yelled at him until he moved it.)

He chews his lip while it takes forever to boot up. Every part of his body is screaming to call Phil, to hear his voice. Dan can’t do that, though. He has a feeling that as soon as Phil asks what’s wrong – and he will – Dan will break down. He can’t have that. Not now, not over his family, not in front of Phil.

The Windows loading thing that Dan never learnt the name over is replaced by his desktop background, which is most certainly not a screenshot of Phil that he captured during one of their Skype sessions. He frowns and weighs the pros and cons of calling as his mouse hovers over the Skype logo. All it takes is the memory of the disaster dinner filling the silent house for him to open it up.

Unsurprisingly, Phil’s offline. It is 1am after all, what did Dan even expect? He doesn’t know why, but this crushes him. It makes everything seem a billion times worse. He just wants to see Phil’s smile, to hear his voice. He just wants Phil to tell him everything will be okay.

Dan’s trying not to sob again. He’s tired and emotional and has no impulse control, so he sends Phil a text via his phone. He chucks the phone away a few seconds later, knowing that there’s no point staring at it and waiting for an answer. He jumps and barely stops a scream when a loud ding rings throughout the room.

(He swears that he didn’t scramble across his room to get his phone and fall off his bed in an ungraceful pile of blankets.)

DAN – 1:12am hey, you up?

PHIL – 1:15am Took a while, but I am now! Are you alright? <3

Dan almost started crying again. Phil picked up on his mood straight away. Okay, maybe texting someone at 1am was a dead giveaway that everything was most certainly not fine, but Dan couldn’t help but feel an overwhelming rush of gratitude to his best friend.

DAN – 1:15am yeah

DAN – 1:15am it’s just, sometimes i can actually convince myself that people care

PHIL – 1:15am I care :(

DAN – 1:16am

i know, i know. i know that people care, but then a night like this happens and i can’t even imagine that anybody would care if i died.

PHIL – 1:18am Dan, answer my calls. Or at least skype me <3

DAN – 1:18am can’t, sorry…

PHIL – 1:19am Why not? What happened? Are you sure you’re okay????

DAN – 1:21am …i swear i’m physically okay

PHIL – 1:21am ?

DAN – 1:21am i’m a sobbing mess right now

PHIL – 1:21am Why? :(

DAN – 1:23am idk, i’m just so upset phil. it’s like nothing i ever do is good enough for them and idk… said that twice oops

DAN – 1:24am also the other reason we can’t skype is because everyone’s asleep and i don’t want to wake them up. my dad would probably barge in and start yelling at me again >_<

PHIL – 1:24am He yelled at you?!

DAN – 1:26am don’t worry i was just being stupid and spilt water everywhere while i was trying to clear the table. i fuckup everything haha

PHIL – 1:26am You’re not stupid! None of that’s your fault and don’t you dare say you’re a fuckup ever again.

DAN – 1:30am i know, i think. get this though – i completely forgot about the mess and putting away the leftovers (literally mostly what my job is lol) and went to my room to cry so he told my brother to tell me to “clean up the mess i made”

DAN – 1:31am like i’m so dumb dad actually had to tell my bro to tell me so i got the message O.o

PHIL – 1:32am Dan…

PHIL – 1:32am Can I please call you? <3

DAN – 1:33am …fine. on skype? no video tho soz <3

Dan switches off his phone with a sigh and looks back at his laptop. It’s an old one and after twenty minutes of being on, it’s whirring dangerously. Dan is pretty sure it’s not supposed to be doing that, but he wants nothing more in the world to see Phil right now, so he dismisses it. This time, when he checks Skype, there’s a green tick next to Phil’s contact. And a new message.

PHIL – 1:40am Am I still able to call?

Dan smiles. He loves the way Phil always makes sure he’s okay with stuff. His sleep-addled brain can’t really form words to express how it feels other than warm, but that’s okay, because he doesn’t need that right now. He needs Phil.

DAN – 1:40am please.

PHIL IS CALLING.

Dan takes a deep breath and rubs his eyes a final time. They’re still wet and he knows they’re red but he doesn’t care that much anymore. He accepts, making sure to turn off the camera.

“Hey, Dan!” Phil’s sleepy but somehow cheery voice chirps as the pixels that are supposed to resemble Phil take up Dan’s screen. Phil doesn’t have his light on, but his face is dimly lit from his own laptop. Dan wishes he could see more than black and grey chunks.

“H-hey,” he croaks out, then clears his throat. He’s so quiet that Dan’s not sure if Phil even heard him. He did.

The pixels move around a bit and suddenly everything is much brighter, making Dan squint. When he fully opens his eyes, he sees Phil frowning worriedly. He also sees the colourful bed sheets Dan has grown accustom to seeing, Phil’s toy lion and the edge of his wardrobe. The familiar scenery relaxes Dan and makes him feel at home.

“You okay?” Phil asks.

Dan knows that there’s no point in lying, because Phil knows him. He nods anyway. Then he realises that he doesn’t have video on and that he’s gotten used to video Skype calls with Phil. Dan sighs, contemplating whether or not to turn video on when he remembers that Phil asked him something.

“What?” Dan says dumbly, before recalling the question. “Oh- yeah, I’m fine.” He says it in such a resigned voice that there’s no way Phil will believe him now.

There’s an uncomfortable silence. Dan watches as Phil moves around on his bed a bit, then open his mouth only to shut it again. Phil does this quite a few times before he finally says anything.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Phil’s voice is gentle. Dan is half-tempted to. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to, but at the very least, could you turn on your video? Just so I know you’re okay.”

Dan knows that if he does turn on his camera, there’s no way he can tell Phil what happened without breaking down embarrassingly, and as he stated before, he most certainly did not want Phil to witness that.

He agrees and clicks on the camera button, not before messing around with his hair until he decides that nothing can be done about the curly mess on his head at the moment.

It takes a few seconds for his laptop and Skype to process the request. In those few seconds, Dan realises just how shitty he probably looks. He had fallen asleep crying and woken up forty minutes ago, his hair is a mess, his eyes are red and his cheeks are blotchy. He realises with horror that he’s also just in his boxers.

It’s too late for him to back out now because the box with the three, maybe four, pixels that are supposed to represent him is in the corner of the screen, meaning Phil can (kind of) see him.

“Hey,” Dan says lamely, then cringes because he’s already said that.

Phil shuffles closer to the screen. “Hello,” he grins, easing Dan’s nerves slightly. “I can’t really see you that much, can you turn on your light?”

Dan almost slaps himself in the forehead right then and there. Obviously Phil can’t see him. “Right, sorry, I’m such an idiot.” He forces a laugh as he reaches over and flicks the light switch. The bright light floods the room immediately, making Dan blink.

Once he can actually focus on things without seeing spots dance across his vision, he turns back to Phil. Dan notices that he’s being uncharacteristically quiet, like he’s thinking about something. Dan doesn’t push it.

“Sorry about my lack of clothes. I fell asleep in the ones I wore today and felt gross when I woke up. I honestly forgot about it until now,” he rambles.

Phil laughs. “Right,” he grins, winking. Dan blushes.

“So, how was your day?” He cringes at how awkward and forced the question sounds.

“Pretty good. My brother visited and my parents took me and him out to some fancy restaurant. Although, it did end up in us getting kicked out.” Phil laughs again, making Dan crack a smile.

“How’d you manage that?” He asks, incredulous.

“Well, it started with us seeing a goose dish on the menu...” Phil continues his storytelling and soon, Dan forgets why they started the call in the first place.

-

It’s only when Dan starts to yawn do they realise how late/early it is. They had been talking for over three hours. It may not seem like a lot, but considering they had both woken up at one and it being roughly five now, they’re entitled to feel tired.

Phil offers to leave, but something in Dan’s expression convinces him to stay just a little longer.

“You know,” Phil says, out of the blue. Dan’s droopy eyes open slightly, so Phil knows he’s listening. “I’ve been thinking. We’ve known each other for a few months now and you’re like my best friend, so I was wondering if you’d like to come over sometime? I could buy the tickets if you didn’t have the money. You would also be able to escape your parents…” He trails off nervously.

“Mmm,” Dan mumbles, not really conscious enough to comprehend anything. His brain takes a while to process what he just heard, but as soon as it does, he’s suddenly wide awake. “Wait, are you serious?”

Phil nods while his hands fiddle with each other in his lap.

“Yes! That would be the best thing ever, I’d love to come to Manchester!” Dan’s smiling so wide it hurts, but he can’t bring himself to stop.

Phil lets out a relieved sigh. “Thank god. I thought you were going to say no.”

“I’d never,” Dan swears. He’s never been more honest about something in his life.

Phil smiles. “How about we talk about this in the morning? Well, later in the morning. You should get some sleep.”

“So should you.”

“Oh, hush.”

Dan’s the first to fall asleep. Phil admires how peaceful he looks for a few minutes before deciding that he should also go to bed. With a sigh, he ends the call and turns off his laptop, making a mental note to look into tickets to Manchester tomorrow.

A/N Got really emotional last week and started writing this. On a lighter note, I got out of first period halfway in and went to the doctor (dehydration, it was fine) yesterday so that was cool. (Pun not intended.)

[projectbadboy-blog]

2

Hauling my backpack up my shoulder I jumped off the bus and looked at the scene in front of me. The same school I once used to attend four years ago was still standing tall. The walls now repainted from peach to a pearly white color that complimented the tall blue tinted windows, the trees and bushes were well kept looking full and green. There were students walking in groups, some laughing the others trying to fill their friends with the latest scoop and what not. "Not much of a change here I guess." Duke spoke reading the expression on my face once he got off the bus himself. "It does feel the same." I chuckled. "Come on let's go inside, we've got ten minutes until the first class starts and you need to get a locker and the timetable and that might take some time so let's hurry, I also have a presentation in the first period." he nodded his head towards the entrance. He has a presentation? What if he gets late because of me? I can do this on my own, I mean I've been here before and it's not my first time in this school. "Hey why don't you go ahead and prepare for that presentation you have? I'll go to the reception on my own, it's not really the first time I've been here I'm sure I can find my way around." I smiled reassuringly as we walked towards the glass doors. Duke furrowed his eyebrows. "Are you sure about that?" "Yes I'm sure." I let out a laugh. "Oh okay, I'll see you around then." he smiled. "Yep bye, oh and good luck with the presentation!" "I don't need luck!" He said sounding annoyed. "Haha okay fine, do well." We then parted ways as I began heading over to the receptionist sitting behind her desk. The interior of the place still looked the way it used to, pearly white tiles and beige walls. "Excuse me, I'm a transfer student and I need a timetable and a locker." I smiled at the receptionist, she had brown hair pulled back into a tight bun, not even a strand out of place. She looked like she was in her early forties but who am I to judge? "May I have your name Miss Transfer Student?" she chuckled a little. I laughed sheepishly at my silliness, I'm so stupid I forgot to tell her my name, that's not embarrassing at all right? "It's Camilla Jervis." I replied still smiling feeling embarrassed. "Alright just a moment." she began clicking and typing away on her laptop and I stood there looking around me. The trophies sitting in the shelfs had increased and so had the certificates that were hung on one corner of one of the walls. "Ah yes, Camilla," she pulled out a sheet of paper from one of the stacks at her desk and scribbled something down on it, "here you go. That's the timetable according to the subjects you chose which happen to be the science stream and that's the pin for your locker. If there's anything else you need you can always come back to the reception." she slid the paper over to my direction and I grabbed it and  thanked her then left the reception and took a look at my time table. Looks like it'll be a busy day today, sighing I put my timetable into my bag and started skimming through the locker numbers looking for the right one; 201. 112... 146... 171... 199... 201! Found it, the lockers have gotten an upgrade, we first used to be given keys but now it seems tho we get a pin to unlock them. I began punching in the digits and tried opening it but it wouldn't budge. I tried again but still nothing. What is this monstrosity!? At this rate I'll be late and not to mention it's the very first day of school some impression I'll be leaving on my teacher. I tried again but still nothing. "Hey, do you need some help?" My head whipped towards the direction of the voice, there was a girl walking towards me. She had pastel pink hair tied into a messy bun and she was wearing a deep necked plain baggy gray shirt with a pair of leggings that had a paint splattered pattern on them. "The locker wouldn't budge." I said letting out a laugh. "Yeah I know, you need to twist the handle real hard." She turned the handle then grinned at me when the locker opened up. "Oh thank you so much I thought I was gonna get late for class!" I said grinning. "By the way I'm Ymir. She stuck her hand out for me to shake and I took it. "The name's Camilla but you can call me Cam too." "That's a cool name, so what are you having for the first period?" "Here take a look yourself." I said handing her my timetable. She skimmed over it before her lips parted. "Would you look at that, you and I are having a lot of classes together, it's best if we start becoming friends now." she laughed and I laughed along with her. "Come on lets get you to class, we've got Biology for our first period and as boring as this subject sounds, Ms. Carla really knows how to make it interesting."she finished with the usher of her hand and I started to walk alongside her towards our class. Walking into the class, I noticed there was no teacher in the class yet and walked over to an empty seat and let myself settle there getting weird looks in the process. I sat there looking out the window until minutes after somebody entered. "Good morning class," I ripped my gaze off the scenery outside to look at the woman standing in the front of the classroom behind the teachers desk, she had her hands on the table smiling, "I hope you had an awesome vacation and I'm happy to see most of you here today. For those of you who don't know me, my name is Carla and I'm your biology teacher so you guys are gonna be stuck with my for this year." she ended with a chuckle and I felt myself smile at what she said. I guess this year isn't gonna be so bad. ~~~ The day flew by so fast, it's already break. Ymir was right, biology wasn't boring at all with this teacher– what was her name again? ... Great, I forgot. I quickly placed my books into my locker and decided to head towards the cafeteria, I didn't get a chance to talk to Duke as he was sitting on the other side of the world during maths and so far that's the only class we've had together. I grabbed some food and sat on one of the tables that were left unoccupied and began to eat and the next thing I knew somebody slammed their tray of food on the opposite side of the table, "When I first heard that Camilla was back I didn't actually believe it because I thought she'd tell me first but look at you!" Looking up from my food, my eyes landed on the girl standing in front of me, she had a red jacket on top of her plain white shirt, a pair of marine blue skinny jeans paired with red wedged converse. Her hair was blond and perfectly curled reaching below her shoulders and her face – don't even get me started – it was caked with a lot of makeup.  "Err– do I know you?" I gave her a genuinely confused look. Her eyes went wide and her hands dramatically clutched her chest, "Oh my heart! I knew this day would come where you'll forget me! I knew it! after going to Dubai you totally forgot about me didn't you?!" "Umm..." I internally cringed at the amount of attention my table was now getting and whispers began to rise in the cafeteria. "Why don't you sit down and we can talk about this properly?" "Sit down?!" she scoffed. "I am so disappointed in you! You actually forgot your best friend, your partner in crime, the girl who'd always scold you like your mother! You completely forgot about me!" she started to sob dramatically. Woman, you're already nagging at me like my mum. "Look I really don't know you, maybe you've mistook me for some other Camilla, I'm sure there are a lot of other Camillas lying around in different parts of this school... or better yet different parts of the world." She suddenly turns toward the girl standing beside her – I didn't even notice her presence, Ymir was standing there with a poker face she then gave me an acknowledging look. "Do you hear her talking? She says she doesn't know me." she enveloped Ymir in a tight hug and sobbed harder whereas Ymir uncomfortably patted her back afraid that if she did anything wrong the blonde would pull her neck off. "Meredith, Meredith Collins." she suddenly pulls away and throws those words at me. "Woah, woah, woah, how do you know that name?" And that's when it hit me hard. This was the girl whom I would do every kind of crazy thing with, we'd never look prim and proper, wearing bright colours and a lot of make up was a no-no and now look at her all dolled up. "Meredith you stupid girl what is wrong with you!? what happened to your clothes, your short hair, and oh my Lord, your face!" I emphasized the last bit. She immediately grinned forgetting she was trying to be mad at me. "Do you like it? I like dressing up now I mean its so cool what makeup can d to you, don't you think?" "You traitor." I said narrowing my eyes. Ymir on the other hand kept looking between us not understanding what we were going on about. "It's a long story." I looked at her and laughed and her lips formed an 'o' letting out an awkward laugh. "But seriously, how could you not remember me, just because I now like dressing up doesn't mean I got a plastic surgery done and you can't recognise me anymore." "Well you do look different." "You have gotten pretty too." she smiled. "Mer I never said that you looked pretty and hold on– did you just say that I used to look ugly before?" "Mhm." the two of them had settled down an had began to eat, Ymir nibbling on her sandwich and Meredith sophisticatedly continued eating her chicken salad, I looked down at my plate at my half eaten slice of pepperoni pizza then looked back at Meredith who was talking on about something with Ymir sitting beside her completely engrossed in her phone. Just what have you become Meredith? ~~~ Once again, I'd really love your feedback 😄