#I want to be able to read everyone's answers and not get burnt out/overwhelmed in doing so

[ancientcity]

Honestly, it's really interesting to see everyone's opinions and stances. I already have ~1 page worth of topics I want to explore further, and a bunch of graphs and tables I have from the past survey.

I look forward to reading all of them when I get the chance! Thank you so much to everyone who's responded so far :)

[lady-laureline]

There's been a lot of discussion about the validity of neurodivergent self-diagnosis, including a fair bit of fuss about the notion that there is a whole swathe of people faking their disability for attention, so I think it's a great time to dissect a few fun topics such as representation, intersectionality, prejudice and privilege (this post is unapologetically long).

Tl;dr for the people at the back: cracking down on perceived fakes has unintended consequences. If you don't know what you're talking about, what is "believable" is not for you to decide.

×××

To those with concerns, a few questions. What was your first encounter with disability? A joke in a movie, perhaps, or an insult you heard at school?

Incidentally, did you know the brain uses your first impression as the foundation for your understanding of any concept? This can be tricky to reflect on (we all have a built-in resistance to changing our minds), but if you are comparing the people you see online to Rain Man you might have some catching up to do.

There's this insidious notion of being "reasonably disabled". People tend to go for an all-or-nothing dichotomy without really thinking about it, which is detrimental to literally everyone in between. Personally, I think it has something to do with our discomfort around being bad at something. As if being blind was somehow more legitimate than having poor eyesight - it sounds ridiculous, but tell me there isn't a part of you that thinks this way.

Likewise, there are plenty of neurodivergent folk that are able to function in society, but will not quite match up to the neurotypical standard in certain contexts, whether we lack the performance skills or just have a different taste in things. Y'all seem to be having difficulties translating a theoretical understanding of this into not cringing like we're bringing down the average grade.

×

Okay, but aren't we talking about a medical diagnosis? Surely that should be left to the professionals? Yes & no. Hope you don't mind that I explain with the help of anecdotal evidence.

I am at a point where I am feeling pretty good about how I identify, i.e. officially diagnosed with adhd, and self-diagnosed as autistic. Through a combination of digging through online resources and a whole lot of recuperation, I've been able to put many of the struggles I was fighting blind with into a framework I am able to understand. I feel more like a person than I ever have in my life, and that, for me, is the greatest benefit of a diagnosis, official or not.

While I am certainly not ruling out seeking a doctor's confirmation of my autism at some point, there is some trepidation involved.

A non-trivial part of this is my adhd diagnosis experience. This was during the pandemic, I was just coming to terms with being burnt out and was so so ready to finally get some answers as to why. An immigrant (read: used to paying for healthcare) living in the UK, I naturally opted to seek guidance and support from the National Healthcare Service at this vulnerable time in my life. If you're familiar with the NHS, you can probably guess how it went to bother this already overwhelmed and underfunded organisation that definitely did not want to deal with my trauma dumping.

After being coerced to try an SSRI "to find out what's under all that anxiety" and having a terrible time with it, plus feeling legitimately gaslight in my pursuit of getting to the bottom of what it would actually take to get approved for an assessment, I found out about my right to choose and swiftly obtained both my diagnosis and prescription via Psychiatry UK, a private organisation.*

A decidedly shitty experience overall, but I ended up with a lot of useful insight into navigating the bureaucracy, and I can safely say that taking (the right) medication has helped a lot with symptom management, and thus, life in general.

×

Now, autism has been in the public eye much longer than adhd and has accumulated more research over the years, but its implementation is far from adequate, especially for autistic adults. Some of the studies that shaped the understanding of doctors practicing today betray the derogatory and/or infantilising beliefs of doctors of the past.

So I have concerns about the toll another clinical runaround might have on my mental health. It would take a lot of work, too - prior to assessment, you are more or less expected to build a convincing case for yourself, which means you have to do enough research to persuade a medical professional who may or may not be inclined to think of all this neurospicy nonsense is a waste of time.

Even if I did get approved for an autism assessment with the NHS, the waiting list is years (yes, years) long. Private care is prohibitively expensive, unless you're desperate enough. Or, you know, rich. I've seen prices in the thousands (yes, thousands).

I'm also unsure, in practical terms, what I stand to gain from an official diagnosis as opposed to, say, seeking out a local branch of the autistic community. Not because I don't trust institutions, but because "access to accommodations" rarely gets elaborated on further, and is not a guarantee. There are also situations where the label would create incompatibility where there previously was none - for example, certain immigration policies reject autistic people outright. Not that I'm thinking of moving to New Zealand, but still.

There's a lot to consider. I haven't gotten around to making an exhaustive list of pros and cons and I don't think I'll have the energy for it anytime soon. Please feel free to add your two cents if you'd like.

×

Alright, so an official diagnosis isn't quite the no-brainer you thought it was, but "that doesn't excuse people labelling themselves for the fun of it".

Buddy. Friend. Kindred spirit o' mine.

We are doing this because we are having difficulty surviving in a world that wasn't built for us. I don't know what your definition of "fun" is, but I can think of a few other things I'd rather be doing than grappling with burnout and existential crises for half of my twenties - because that's what happens when you grow up being told that your lived experience isn't real. That you couldn't possibly feel this way, because the rest of the class feels fine.

People worrying about fake disabilities are still trying to fit neurodivergent content into a neurotypical point of view. They see someone trying to normalise the disabled experience and think: "If I did that, I'd be doing it for attention," then carry on to brutally mock them as some sort of righteous punishment for being too weird online.**

I have had to sift through a metric ton of trauma to build my identity back up from scratch. Really puts the "fun" in "dysfunctional". And believe it or not, I have had a relatively easy time of it.

About that intersectionality:

My trials as a disabled immigrant have been frustrating, but I'm also a young, straight-passing, cis white woman. People of colour go undiagnosed at far higher rates - their symptoms are overlooked more, and when they are recognised they are often misconstrued as threatening. Trans people get written off altogether, because transitioning apparently means there are no other medically relevant aspects of your life? Same thing if you're overweight.

I cannot speak with authority on these experiences, but I can say that defining someone by a single facet of their personhood is redundant and insulting, and causes real harm when that preconception bars access to the care they need. It's high time we put work into understanding how our differences interact, and hammer home the fact that intersectionality isn't the exception, it's the rule.

If there's one thing that's going to make it harder to recognise the signs of genuine neurodivergence, it's facing constant doubt. Which we do, about our struggles themselves, and the severity of them. The things that happen to us either happen to nobody, or they happen to everybody - so don't be such a bummer, it's neither the time nor the place, etc.

Maybe there is no adequate time or place for these conversations by design. Maybe the discomfort you feel has less to do with sensing pretense and more to do with rejecting something you don't understand. Maybe it's possible for us to think, speak, and act a little differently than you do, all while being sincere. Maybe letting us exist as we are won't make the world implode.

Food for thought.

×

I'll end on this note, because there is always someone who needs to hear it: Whatever the rest of your life looks like, if you are neurodivergent, you are part of the community. I believe you. You belong.

×××

*In the case of the NHS being unable to provide adequate care, it is a patient's right to request access to an alternative healthcare provider, free of charge. This is known as the right to choose. I've linked Psychiatry UK because they have a comprehensive explanation (and they were nice to me), however their waiting lists have also extended into oblivion.

**Like when Chloé Hayden (actor, author and disability rights advocate, with diagnosed auDHD) received overwhelming backlash (after posting a video of herself displaying unmasked joy) that led to her stepping away from social media.

[1d1195]

Hi Sam!! How are you doing my love?!? I’ve missed you😭 this week has been slightly better, still very busy and lowkey feeling a bit burnt out :( but I think I may be getting out of my depressive episode so that’s good at least HAHA

Anywaysssss I read the time extra and omg it was so heartbreaking but in such a beautiful way! I feel SO much for this Harry like SO much! Like my heart hurts for him but I really appreciate their story! I just wanted to go shout out at him how loved he is by everyone especially the MC! And ugh my heart hurt so much that he thought she would not want to marry him at all😭 and the proposal in their little kitchen was just so adorable?!?!!! It’s so very them and I loved it!! So well done Sam, you never fail to amaze me❤️ and I don’t ever feel bad for not posting anything, you are consistently doing WAY more than enough for us honestly that you deserve to go at a pace where you’ll still be able to enjoy what you do! We will all still be here now matter what!

ILY bestie hope that you are well and are having such lovely days!!!-💜

Oh I'm so glad to hear you're feeling a little better! Even if a bit burnt out. I relate to the burnt out feeling immensely. I hope you find some time to yourself and time to rest. Do you have spring break soon? Any fun plans? Whenever people ask me what I'm doing over break I always say nothing which is EXACTLY what I want to do over break. I don't want to do anything or have any obligations. Also I cannot afford trips and such so it's not really much of a choice. Anyways, I've missed you and I'm glad you're on the mend 💕 just reading what your message you sound better than the last couple times you chatted with me. I hope that's encouraging, too!

I was very grateful to get the idea from one of my sweet anons about this piece, but I was very stressed about it hahahahaha I had essentially 'written' the little series while I was commuting to work over the course of like two or three years as crazy as that sounds. Then when I started writing again I finally got it into actual typed font. But I was in a pretty bad place when I was thinking about it. So it was really nice to write something fluffy and light for this little couple but it was a little hard to get back into the mindset of Harry feeling a bit lost (which I guess is a positive sign for my mental health). I think it was really cute to see their private proposal. I imagine they did the whole dinner thing with their friends and families but I think Harry was a lot calmer knowing the answer ahead of time (even if he's ridiculous for thinking she'd say no).

Thank you so much for your endless kindness towards me and my posting schedule. I'm genuinely considering calling in sick one day this week because I'm simply struggling. I've been feeling very overwhelmed and stretched thin. I don't know if this is a normal amount of things that every other adult has to do or if I'm just being a whiny brat. I never feel like I have time to myself and I feel behind in every aspect of my life. I'm behind at work, I'm behind in my personal health, I'm behind with my chores, need to see my family, and should probs spend some more quality time with my bf. But it's a lot and idk how people do all this all the time. But calling in sick as a teacher just usually means more work for myself in the end so it's probs not worth it and I'll get caught up eventually.

ANYWAYS. Honestly, I'm doing fine. It could be worse, lol I hope you're having a good weekend and really it was the best to see your message and hear you're doing better! I was hoping you would message me soon--I think our brains lined up because I thought about it most of yesterday and then saw your message right before i went to bed 💕💕

LOVE YOU!

xoxo

[huneekrispee]

Where is my lover?

Pairing: c!Dreamwastaken x gn!Reader

Summary: Living outside the Dream SMP, far from the war and chaos, Dream was able to find comfort in you. One day, he leaves, promising to come back to you. It's been months, now you're left wondering... where is my lover?

Warnings: cursing, use of dream's real name, spoilers for the Dream SMP Finale, tiny bit of fluff at the start, angst

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I've been watching Attack on Titan recently, and the song 'Call Your Name' has me in the feels :( Sorry for being away for so long :( School has been an ass to me, I hope you enjoy it!! -Hunee <3

Also! Please don't mind the pronouns in the song! This is a gender-neutral fic, I merely just wrote the song lyrics as they are :)

She lost her brother a month ago

His picture on the wall

And it reminds me

When she brings me coffee... her smile

I wish I could be with her until my last day

In the forest, a cottage lays peacefully in a secluded meadow near a running stream. The tall trees lay their shadows onto the grassy floor, leaving marks from the sun. Water solemnly runs along, moving to its next destination through the stream. Grass rustles and a soft sigh is heard.

Stretching his arms above his head, a man clad in green slowly sits up, emerald eyes darting around. He yawns. "(Y/N)!" He's now standing up, searching for his lover. Dream's hand reaches down to grab his mask left abandoned on the grass, quickly putting it on.

Preparing his sword, his hand on the hilt, Dream slowly steps toward the cottage. He rests a hand on the door, waiting for something, anything.

A scream is heard.

He now slams the door open, netherite blade on full display, ready to attack. Looking around, he notices no one but (Y/N) in the cozy home, with a kettle on the ground next to them. Lowering his guard, sighing with relief, he sheathes his sword once more, walking over to his distraught partner.

"Are you alright?" Removing his mask, he takes their hands in his. Dream looks at them. (Y/N) looks down, taking their hurt hand out of his. Sighing, Dream quickly leads them over to the sink, running the tap. "What happened?" The coldness of the water helped soothe the burn. "I just, accidentally burnt myself with the kettle. It's okay, I'll live, Clay."

The man remained silent. The only sound heard in the cottage was the running tap water. After treating the burn on their hand, Dream leads (Y/N) to the chair on the side of the room. "You. Sit. I'll finish doing whatever you were doing. You just sit there and take it easy, you just burnt your hand." Bending down to their height, Dream stands face to face with (Y/N). He narrows his eyes slightly. He was always like this. Whenever (Y/N) got hurt in any sort of way, Dream was always on it, almost suffocating them with his overwhelming protectiveness.

They sighed, avoiding his eyes. "I- I was just... I just wanted to make you a coffee this morning. I know you're going to be busy later, so I wanted to make sure that you were energized for your work." Fiddling with their bandaged hand, (Y/N) smiled gently. "I see how you're always so dedicated to the stuff you do, and I wanted to return the favor, even if it's just a cup of coffee."

Dream's eyes softened. It was true, he was dedicated to his work. Running an SMP was hard, especially with some people interfering with his plans recently. He had plans to take power over the server again. Finding and taking everything his people were attached to was difficult, but at least he had (Y/N) to come home to. It was all for them. It was worth the hard work and pain just to see (Y/N) smile at him, showing him their love.

"It's okay. Thank you for wanting to do that, but you don't have to." Running his hand up to their cheek, he smiled. "I do all of my work for you, to help make a safe place for you. Once I sort out the rebellious people, I promise, I'll come back to you, and we can live together in my SMP." (Y/N) gazed up at him, looking into his eyes. They smiled, beaming at the idea.

"Alright! I promise I'll wait for you! I'll always wait for you. I love you, Clay."

"I love you too. I promise I will come back to you. Always."

He would do anything to see that smile on their face all the time.

She said she gave all her love to me

We dreamt a new life

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

It had been two days. Two days since Dream had left. (Y/N) had since then tended to the flowers and read a few books Dream had gotten them from a faraway village.

'I wonder what he's doing now?' Looking up at the sky, (Y/N)'s mind began to wander. What was dream doing right now? Maybe he was still on his way back to his SMP? Or maybe he was trading with villagers for resources?

They smiled. Dream had been one of (Y/N)'s lifelong friends turned partner. They had met when (Y/N) used to live in a village as a child. (Y/N) was nine and Clay was ten. Dream had gotten into a rough fight with two skeletons and a zombie. He was stumbling around, trying to find help for his injuries.

That was when (Y/N) appeared. Hearing the boy's cries, they ran out of their family home, taking Dream into the house to be treated, screaming for their parents to help him.

They had grown up together as best friends after that. Meeting George and Sapnap, the group loved to go on little adventures together and play their favourite game: manhunt. Dream would always insist on running, with George and Sapnap chasing after him. Sometimes, (Y/N) would join them, but they quite enjoyed seeing the trio panic during the game. It was fun.

A couple years ago, Dream visited (Y/N), saying that he was starting up his own SMP, a place where he and his friends could have fun and just be themselves all the time. The two of them spend hours in (Y/N)'s room, talking about their big plans and ideas for the SMP. Dream wanted to build a cottage near a stream, and live there peacefully with (Y/N). They were shocked, Dream wanted to live with them? "Why?" They asked.

"Well, because of... I'll just show you."

That was the day Clay had kissed (Y/N) for the first time.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

A month had passed. Nothing from Dream. Usually, he'd send a message through on their server communicator, asking how they were and informing them of his journey and new discoveries. But that didn't happen, not this time.

It was hard. Clay had been such a big part of their life that sometimes they found it hard not to worry about him. They knew he was strong, he could take down armies of people, but everyone had their limit.

Raising the iron hoe, (Y/N) swung down, making way for the new seeds of crops that would grow over the next few months. Wiping their forehead with their sleeve, they sighed.

All they wanted was for Dream to be safe, and for him to come back home once he finished his business in the SMP.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Heavy pants of breath echoed throughout the underground bunker. He was panicking. It wasn't supposed to go like this.

The plan was to kill Tubbo and make Tommy give him his disks.

It all went to shit when Punz showed up with backup, showing the people of his SMP that had turned against him fully.

"W-woah! Okay! Tommy, calm down!"

The blonde boy didn't listen, hands gripping the axe of peace and lifting it high above his head.

"Tell me why I shouldn't kill you Dream, right here, right now."

Dream silently gulped. For once, his plan failed. It backfired on him and blew up in his face. 'Sorry (Y/N). Guess I'm not coming back tonight.' He just wanted this to be over. He just wanted to be back in the cottage near the stream, sitting with his lover.

His green eyes darted around to everyone in the room. They looked disgusted, some disappointed, others angry. He knew this would never change. He would never get his SMP back. They hated him. Wanted him gone.

"Does Y/N know you're like this?"

His breath hitched. Eyes went wide.

Sapnap had stepped forward, sword out, pointing it threatening at Dream. "Do they know just how bad you are? How corrupt you've become?!" He was yelling at this point. Sapnap was upset as well. It was hard to believe that his best friend would do all of these bad things, it hurt to betray him, but he had to do what was right.

"S-stop. Stop talking about them."

For once, Dream was vulnerable. He hated it. He was always so soft when it came to them. When it came to (Y/N). Sapnap knew that. He had seen it when they were together, how happy dream was when he was with them, following them around like a lost puppy, longing for their love. It went both ways, (Y/N) was the same.

"Who the fuck is- Nevermind. Dream. Give me one good fucking reason why I shouldn't-"

"Tommy stop." Sapnap stepped in again. "This is important to not just me but for another person as well." Tommy stepped back, axe still prepared to lash out just in case. Tommy kept muttering to himself, something about a green bastard.

"Dream. Where is (Y/N)? You said they would join the SMP with us, but they're not here, nobody has seen them, probably besides you. You said that they changed their mind about the SMP, or was that a lie too?"

Dream gulped, words caught in his throat.

"Tell me, you bastard! Where is (Y/N) and do they know?!"

"No. They don't know. All I wanted to do was protect them from something I knew would happen. The wars, the chaos of the SMP. They didn't need to be a part of that. I didn't want them to get hurt."

It was almost like a plea. Dream's voice was quiet like he didn't want them to hear what he was saying. Sapnap stepped back, somewhat satisfied with his answer. He was also upset, he hadn't seen (Y/N) in years, not since before the SMP started.

Tommy finally stepped forward.

"Now. Tell me why I shouldn't kill you, Dream."

"I can bring people back to life. I can bring Wilbur back."

I said I gave all my love to you

We dreamt a new house

Some place to be at peace

But things changed... Suddenly

I lost my dreams in this disaster

Three months. It had been three long months without him. (Y/N) would spend every other night crying in their bed, missing him. They missed everything about him. No messages from him on their communicator. No death messages about him either.

They had never thought that three months could feel so long.

Surely he was busy doing stuff that would mean the world was safer for them. That's what he always said. He said that he worked for them and that he promised that they could settle down and make a new cottage near a different stream, closer to the SMP.

He said he needed to dig out the rebellious people and make his SMP a better place.

All (Y/N) could hope for was that he was safe and doing okay.

We don't know what is wrong tonight

Everybody's got no place to hide

No one's left and there's no one to go on

All I know is my life is gone

Dream was not feeling safe and right now he was feeling anything but okay.

Tommy had just broken his mask. Split down the middle, from the axe of peace.

He didn't want anyone to see his face, no one but (Y/N) and the people who had already seen it before he started wearing the mask.

His mask was his safe haven. A facade he could hide behind. With it gone, there was now no place for him to hide.

All he had done was tell Tommy that he could bring people back to life. When he mentioned Wilbur, Tommy seemed shocked, but then he seemed to come back to his senses after remembering what Wilbur was like before he died.

He went crazy. Insane. All because of Dream and his stupid motives. He only fueled Wilbur's change, encouraging him to blow Manburg up after Jschlatt took over. Thank God for Karl destroying the button the first time. The second attempt was successful and sealed Wilbur's fate as a psychotic, destroyed ex-president swayed by the masked man into committing destruction.

Tommy was angry at that. At the fact that Dream would even think about bringing back Wilbur.

Enraged, he brought the axe down onto Dream's cowering figure.

I'm crying

Missing my lover

I don't have the power

On my side forever

Sitting up, (Y/N) slowly looked around the room. It was the same as always; no Dream insight. They woke up every day with a feeling of hope that they would turn around and see Dream at the door, back from his trip.

The situation was too much. (Y/N)'s breaths quickened, eyes blurring up with tears, the salty water slowly dripping down the sides of their cheeks. They let out a dry laugh, bringing up their sweater paw hands to their face, wiping the tears.

They stared at the sleeve of the hoodie they had on. It was green.

It was his.

He always left a spare here, just in case.

It always came in handy when (Y/N) missed him.

They sighed, flopping back down onto the bed, curling into themselves and the hoodie. It smelt like him. He always smelt like a run through the forest, with a hint of saltwater and citrus.

It was comforting.

He was comforting.

The tears wouldn't stop. Every time (Y/N) wiped them away, fresh ones would keep coming. Where was he? Was he okay? It was all they could think about.

(Y/N) hugged themselves, hoping to recreate a hug like his. It didn't work. It never worked.

Nothing could ever compare to his hugs.

Still sobbing, (Y/N) cried themselves back to sleep, despite it being morning.

Not like they had any motivation to do anything without the assurance of him being okay anyways.

Oh Where is my lover

And I got no power

I'm standing alone, No way

Calling out your name

Beep.

(Y/N)'s communicator went off.

Dream was slain by Tommyinnit.

[suicidalslasher]

forever & always. ➤ tom. h.

Happy Valentine’s Day~!!! I couldn’t contain myself and or stop myself from writing about my favorite Valentine’s day killer. So, here you go :)

WARNING: descriptions of gore and blood. in this one-shot, the reader’s pronouns are she&her.  i might make a part two of this, depending on how well it does. maybe not. i like how it ends, regardless. either way. enjoy.

The news spread like wildfire. No matter which way you went, there was always a flame, reaching out towards those to burn. Try as you may, you can't get away. The words that littered the air was nothing more than burnt ashes fluttering around, burning each object as it flies above said thing or said person. In this case, the people of a small town called Valentine Bluffs were the ones burning from the inside and out. They felt trapped within the smoke, unable to seek out which way to escape the dangers that had followed.   The terror; the trauma; the panic and anxiety attacks; All of it - they thought it was long gone.... they were finally going back to being normal, how things used to be. 

They were going back to a life that wasn't full of fear, having to look behind your shoulder constantly and being careful of who you trust. It was all going to be okay, happy once more. They'd finally be able to celebrate their favorite day once again.  But... as you may have guessed, it's not quite  easy to put out a rapid wildfire. All it takes is a small fire to expand out into something bigger, bolder, and scarier. You can't escape the flames. No matter how big or small. You cannot ignore the overwhelming burning sensation that  glazes across your skin as the fire around you grows larger, making you feel smaller and smaller by the second.  The words, however, the statement that was fluttering around like specks of ash,  wasn't at all a sentence (nor an actual fire)  but a name - Harry Warden.  1997. Valentine's day. Everybody, in & out of town, knows what happened.  For a brief period of time there, nobody celebrated Valentine's day, having thought it out to be cursed.  Yet, as time went on, there was no sign of Harry Warden. No copy cat killer version of him, neither. So, the people went back to celebrating. Writing hand written love letters,  buying cheaply made cards at the local supermarket, buying and or receiving overly priced chocolates. Anything, everything, people did it with  love in their hearts and a smile on their face.  Today was Valentine's Day, once more. Expect it wasn't the way it had been for the past 9 years. It was exactly like the day in 1997. History was repeating itself.  Instead of love, presents, and reserved dinner dates being celebrated and shared, the town of Valentine Bluffs  got decomposed, rotting corpses,  instead. Blood scattered outside and inside of buildings. 

  It was worse than before, more bodies were showing up without their hearts and the missing body piece would be found neatly placed in between a plastic heart shaped box. All of which would be sent to the police station as a joke, as  a threat.  Even a card would be taped on top or under the container, though the sentences were far from cheerful and loveable.  A few of them had been thrown aside, only having been read once. Those who opened it and read it aloud usually found themselves cringing in dismay  as they read the paragraph out loud all while  shifting around in their seat, uncomfortably.  

Once they read it, they shook their heads as tears welled up in their eyes before they threw it into the trash bin or ripped it into hundreds of tiny pieces, not daring to open another letter that's brought in. Evidence or not, the workers couldn't keep their breakfast or lunch down when they'd read the cards.  The recent two cards had said;  From the heart comes a warning, filled with bloody good cheer, remember what happened as the 14th draws near!  And the last victim, a girl named Maryanne Anderson, had gotten a card right before she was found dead, her body laying in a ditch to rot.  Her card had read; Roses are red, violets are blue, one is dead, and so are you.  Nobody knew who the new killer was, or if it even was a new killer, copying Harry's schemes and following in his footsteps.  It could have very well been  the same man all those years ago. That's what they were saying.   (Y/N) (L/N) was in her car, driving back home from work when her favorite song had been replaced with an alarm, cutting off her favorite part. "Oh, c'mon!" She groaned, hands hitting the steering wheel in annoyance  before she goes to turn up the volume anyways, wondering what's so important that the town and the police station had to turn off her favorite song. 

She knew about the murders, she knew there was a serial killer around, she already knew this already. And yes, she was petrified, as most people were. When the first body showed up, the mayor of town announced there'd be a curfew until they found out who is doing all of this. Whether it was one person or more, they'd find a way to capture the killer. No matter what. There was not going to be another murder.

 (Of course, there was more.) 

 (The original curfew was getting home at 9:30. Now, it had gone down and you'd have to be indoors, at your house, by 6:30 PM.)  Students in school would get out earlier, as well as the adults in town. The only ones who didn't get to go home so early in the day were those who were trying to protect the people of Valentine Bluffs.  "We are sorry to interrupt that song there," came the  radio host's deep and groggy voice. "However, this is more important than your favorite throwback jams. I've gotten an officer here with me, he had just shown up not even a second ago to tell us more news on the situation we are currently in. So, please, listen carefully."  "Yeah, whatever. I already know what's going on. Tell me something I don't know." (Y/N)  turns off the radio as she pulls up in her driveway, feeling a sense of comfort clouding over her, another day, she's okay; safe and sound, unlike a few of her old high school friends that were gutted like fish and butchered like pigs. 

She shivers at both the bitter and harsh wind brushing against her  as she steps out of her vehicle and the obvious visual of whatever masked man (or men) that's around, killing innocent people for whatever given reason.  Hurrying along the steps to her porch, she digs her keys out of her jacket pocket, finding them within seconds before she's pushing them into the door as quickly as she could. She didn't show it, tried not to show it, but she was as anxious and paranoid as everyone else was. 

(Y/N) was  trying to hold back her fear but the moment she gets home, locking all the doors and windows, the uneasy feelings creep up on her and every negative emotion takes charge.     With a sigh, she falls down onto the couch with a plop, reaching for the remote, she turns on the TV, attempting to try and get her mind off of things.  Of course, every station wasn't what she wanted to watch, the news replacing every channel.  She skipped and skipped but it all remained the exact same. With a groan, she decides to listen to what they were saying, even though she really didn't want to hear it as it'd only make her anxiety worse.  "I am Jonathan Godfrey. We're sorry to interrupt your daily scheduled programs, however, a man you may know as Tom Hanniger has escaped from his stay from a mental hospital."  (Y/N)'s eyes nearly budge out of her head at the mention of the man's name,  the remote she had in the palm of her hand goes flying, falling down onto the ground by her feet. Tom? Mental hospital? It didn't make any sense! Everyone... including her, thought he was dead! She, with shaky fingers, grabs the remote to turn the volume up.   Jonathan's own eyes were wide as he read the teleprompter, his voice now grew shaky as he spoke. Fear was written across both his and his co-worker’s face. "Unfortunately, we don't have any more information or news as to where he's escaped off to. Or where he may be as of the moment. All the reports, every last piece of information we have been received  has said he's been missing since two days ago.  He can be anywhere.  More importantly, he can be here, hiding out." His voice trembled as he spoke, it was also very faint - almost ghostly. Quiet as a mouse. His skin was pale, making it appear as if he was a ghost rather than a living person that sat in the chair there.  

 Jonathan couldn't continue, this much was obvious, therefore his co-host, Abigail Miller, continued where he had left off.    "This being said, please, lock the doors and windows of your home. If you have a weapon to guard your own life and protect your ground, get it out now. Please, protect yourself the very best you can. And do not, I repeat, do not answer the door. Do not leave your home whatsoever. Whatever is outside of your house is surely not more important than your life.  

“Whether it is Tom that has been doing this or not, we're not exactly sure. All we tell you is to be careful and remain indoors until we can find Tom and or find the Valentine's killer. This has been Jonathan Godfrey and Abigail Miller, with the news. Stay safe and God bless." The program that was previously playing showed up finally, the neon colors swirling together to form the title of the show, along with a fairly way too cheerful theme song playing faintly in the distance as the introduction played out. (Y/N) had never heard of it before, but from a quick glance, it appeared to be a sitcom from the late 70's.  The only source of light was coming from the television screen, casting colorful shadows across (Y/N)'s face. She had felt too tired to have turned on the lights upon entering her house. Work was short, the hours having grown thinner because of the curfew, however, it was still tiring all the same.  She instantly regretted not doing so now, however. 

She sat in the dark, her heart thumping loudly against her chest as she pulled a near by blanket around her shoulders as if the thick fabric would comfort her and protect her. The room had gotten colder ever since the report was announced. Goosebumps ran up and down (Y/N)'s body, the baby hairs on her neck stood on end as a shiver slid up and down her spine. Despite the blanket being around her body, she felt nothing but cold, numb. Suddenly, the TV went out with a soft 'ping'.    (Y/N) gasped and her heart stopped beating all together.  She felt like she couldn't breathe, she couldn't tell if she was going crazy either when she heard what sounded like  footsteps coming down from the hallway. She sat, frozen, on her couch, unable to move, unable to breathe.  Then.... a knock. Followed by another and another. It was right outside, coming from not the front entrance but the back yard. "(Y/N)? (Y/N), please..." came the voice.  ​​​​​​​And (Y/N) recognized that voice anywhere.  She knows she shouldn't.... everybody said not to but... she couldn't help herself.  Getting up as quickly as she could, she runs down the hallway, the sounds of her feet echoing against the thin walls as she reaches the door, tugging it open.   There, on the other half of the door, stood nobody other than Tom Hanniger himself.   He looked up, surprised she had answered the door.  Giving her a weak, lopsided smile,  Tom's pulling her into a tight hug, his head falling down in the crook between her shoulder and neck, tears flooding his eyes as he soaks her shirt, silently weeping. "(Y/N).... fuck, I've missed you so much, missed you so bad." Tom confesses with a sniffle.  "Tom... I- what're you doing here? They're looking for you, you know this, right? Everybody's looking for you. And.... and I- fuck, Tom! I thought you were dead. Everybody in town thought you died the day your father did." (Y/N) didn't hesitate to hide her true feelings. She was a mixture of emotions. Angry, happy, sad, scared - she was feeling every single emotion there possibly was. "I know... I know. I-I have a lot to explain and a lot to tell you but please, right now, can we just- can we just play pretend?" He asked, moving away from her shoulder as he wiped his nose on the sleeve of his sweater, his eyes remained watery and his skin was flushed as he looked up at (Y/N).  (Y/N) guessed it was a mixture of three things - running away from the mental hospital to where her house was to  the bitter and harsh February air. Plus, the crying he had just done, too. His face was red and blotchy from all three. Despite it being so cold, sweat trickled his face, a few drips of it falling along side his cheeks. "Play pretend?" (Y/N) echoed, tilting her head to the side, unsure of what he meant.  "Let's play pretend." He repeated, licking his lips. "Let's play pretend and imagine none of this horrid, crazed shit is going on right now. Let's pretend it's only me and you. It's Valentine's day, isn't it? Let's celebrate. After all, it was one of our favorite days to spend together."  Heat rose to (Y/N)'s cheeks and she bit on her bottom lip, rocking back and forth on the bottom of her feet.  "Tom.... I-I'm...You want-" She couldn't from sentences, her thoughts were mushing together and it was all too much for her to handle. She felt like she was going to pass out. "I want you, (Y/N). I want you as bad as I did then and I want you just as badly right  now. There has never been a day where I wasn't thinking about you. You were the love of my life. I still love you, maybe even more, now. Let's celebrate, please. We can talk about everything tomorrow morning. I promise I'll tell you everything.  Right now, let's play pretend, let's act like it's just us again, like when we were teens.... I've missed you. And.... and I know you've missed me too or else you wouldn't have opened the door." And, yeah, okay, he was right.  "Tom..."  "(Y/N)." He stepped closer to her, closer than he had done before, as he rests his hand against her cheek, fingers brushing against her skin as he looked into her (E/C) eyes.  "I love you. I never stopped. And I know you love me, too.... so, please, baby girl.... can I just show you how much I love you?" (Y/N) shouldn't have answered the door. She should have called the cops when she heard his voice. Everything was too much of a  coincidence. 

Her power was working perfectly fine until Tom had shown up. 

Now that she was thinking about it.... 

There was also no victims until she had heard the news Tom had left the asylum. Three days ago.... 

Three days ago, there was the first victim; Maryanne.  If she thought too much about it, got too deep into the rabbit hole, she would have assumed Tom Hanniger was the Valentine's killer - The Miner.  Yet... looking at Tom, she knew he wasn't - couldn't - be the killer. If he was, he would've killed her too, right? Tom Hanniger's been through too much, and just like she was there before, she was going to be there for him now. Through Hell and back.  

She would stay by his side, no matter what. She still kept the old promise ring he had given her in high school, along with the note in which he confessed his feelings. In which, he told her - one day - he'd marry her. She was the perfect girl for him, as he was the perfect man for her.  A promise is a promise. When she said 'forever and always', she meant that. (Y/N) knew Tom meant it, too.  "I love you too."   Tom's quick to place his lips on (Y/N)'s and (Y/N) is quick to kiss him back just as hungry, just as fierce. She tangles  her fingers through her hair and pulls on it, earning a groan from Tom. Satisfied with the result, she tugs him into her house by the sleeve of his shirt, slamming the door shut with her foot. 

"I've missed you, baby." He says, not daring to pull away from the kiss.

"Show me how much you've missed me then, baby." She mumbles against his lips. "Oh, I'm going to."  "Let's go celebrate Valentine's day the right way then. Come on, let's go upstairs."   Tom grins and  (Y/N) smiles back before she's pulling him up the stairs and into her bedroom. 

Forever and Always. It was them until the end. Nobody would ever separate the two of them, again.... not even Harry Warden was going to destroy Tom’s happiness... not this time.

[rason-rodd]

All The Time We Need - Jason Todd x Fem!Reader (NSFW)

Summary: Reader and Jason meet again after two years being apart and reconnect with their long lost love.

Warning : Angst, Fluff, Smut  

Author’s note: A OS definitely inspired by my 2-years long hiatus and that somewhat acknowledges it. It was almost cathartic writing it and allowed me to reconnect with Jason on a writing scale. You can read it as a sequel to “Summer Love and Swimming Pool” or not. Some moments are a bit too cheesy to my taste but I hope you’ll enjoy it nevertheless. NSFW Part is at the end. You can skip that part if you want to.

You actually realise Time flies when you take time to acknowledge it. And sometimes acknowledging is like getting buried under a mountain of sand and feeling each grain slowly chocking you and reminding you there is no escaping. The sands of Time cannot be stopped, nor can they be shoveled. They run and slip through your fingers like dust in the wind and the tighter you try to grasp them the faster they go. And when they’re gone, there is no catching them back.     That’s why Time is scary. Because no matter what you do, it won’t allow you to go back or to put an end to it. And it will certainly not allow you to forget about it either. Time will pave your life until the day you die with a constant reminder that, unlike it, you’re not eternal. And the saddest thing is it doesn’t care about what you think of it.           And yet, it seemed like Jason Todd had managed to tell Time to go fuck itself. “How long has it been?”

He hadn’t changed a bit. Looking as handsome as ever. Always and eternally sporting the same disheveled short black hair and the same mischievous yet tortured blue eyes, eyes that had put you in more trouble than you could remember. “Two years or so … I don’t know.”             All you could remember was a passionate summertime infatuation that had burnt your body and your heart night and day like a hot and dazzling sun. A fading yet intense memory you secretly cherished and replayed in period of loneliness and that you couldn’t seem to be able to replace on the timeline of your life. “Still so beautiful, I see.” You scoffed and he chuckled. “What?”       “You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” He scratched his head; arm muscles compressed in a leather jacket à la Jason that made you wonder how he could bear wearing such a light jacket in such freezing weather. “I tend to believe constancy is a quality.” You goggled at his smile, childish, adorable yet naturally so seductive. The same smile that used to make your legs shake and turn to jell-o. “I didn’t know you were back in Gotham.”         “Right back at you. Last time I heard of you, you were in this little town … Hopletown, was it?”   “Appleton.” He corrected. “Looks like Timbo talks about me in my absence.”           “You’re his brother. Of course, he talks about you, just like everyone else in your family.” Judging by his signature small crooked smile on his face he seemed touched by your words, taking even time to ponder over them. Did the family really think of him in his absence?

Shivering, you tightened your wool coat around you, attempting to prevent the cold wind to infiltrate under the cloth and steal your body heat, as you let Jason think about what you had just said. But your reaction didn’t go unnoticed and it managed to pull him out of his train of thoughts. “Do you want to go somewhere warmer? We could have something to drink, catch on. I’m sure you got plenty to tell.”         “Not plenty but I could use a hot tea.” You confessed, already imagining the spicy smell of cinnamon and chai in your nostrils and the hot steam caressing your cold face.     “Amazing.” He grinned, genuinely happy and excited, a bit like a little boy at a toy store, and lowered your beanie to properly cover your ice-cold reddened ears. That gesture got you confused for a small second but it was so sweet and caring you eventually smiled. Ah Todd, always the overprotective type I see.

***

“So, what are you doing in Gotham City? I thought you wanted to ‘travel the world Dora The Explorer-style and get the hell out of this cesspool’?” He quoted you and your genuine chuckle made him smile but only briefly as you gained back your seriousness in a matter of seconds.

He could tell you were not the same girl he used to date two summers ago. You had changed, matured. You had become a woman, a woman who seemed to struggle with responsibilities so heavy they could crush her at any second. You looked tired, weary… sad even. The cheeky light in you was gone. And he wanted to know why. Not out of curiosity but to help you.           “Well, I did travel and it was awesome, like a dream come true. But I guess we always wake up from dreams eventually.” You looked down at your tea, looking at your pale reflection in the hot water, melancholia hitting you like a train. “My mother got sick and, well, her savings were not enough to pay for all the medical care so … let’s say I had to swap my backpack for a satchel… I work at Wayne Enterprises now. Bruce hired me, out of pity I suppose.”         “I’m sure it wasn’t out of pity.” You shrugged and Jason grabbed your hand and you looked up at him. “And I’m sorry about your mother. I know how it’s like to …”     “Do you still think about us?” You abruptly cut him short, not willing to keep talking about your personal issues or to plunge Jason back in dark memories that you know were very hard for him to handle.     Sure, you could have chosen another question, another topic of conversation but the thing was that those words were niggling at you since the moment you two broke up. “I mean do you happen to think about what happened between us?”

Jason didn’t answer at first, more out of surprise than out of hesitation because there was none. There was just one answer to that question. Of course.             Of course he had thought about you all over those two years. Of course he had thought about what happened, about the moments spent with you – however ephemeral they had been -, about that love he had felt and had never learned to completely erase despite the women who had entered and exited his life. Of course there had been nights in which he had replayed the lustful burning memories of you in his arms, against him, against his naked body. Of course was the answer. But not the answer he gave you. “Come with me.” He forced you to get up and slammed a fifty-dollar bill against the table, not caring about the hot chocolate he hadn’t finished or the blueberry muffin you had barely touched. “But … the change.” You tried to protest.         “Fuck the change. I want to show you something.”

***

           Out of all the places in Gotham, you never thought he would have brought you here. “Why are we here, Jason?”       It was an ancient building, far from the fancy city centre and only a few blocks away from Crime Alley. Dilapidated, covered in colorful yet ugly graffiti, this place looked liked a landmark for drug dealers and junkies and it was an understatement to say that, without Jason’s company, it would have normally made you feel unsafe and uncomfortable.         “I grew up here, before Bruce took me in.” You glanced at Jason who was staring at the place with both disgust and melancholia. “I’ve always hated that place. But it was home. And I guess it made me… I guess that is because of that place that I somehow became the man I am today… I mean, if Jason Todd hadn’t grow up here with a junkie mother and a lousy father he would have never met Brue Wayne and never became …” He stopped, on purpose, you could tell it. “Even if I hate to, I come back here when I want to think of my past, when I’m looking for a reason to keep on fighting. This place is like my temple, a memento of who I am. Damn, you must think I’m crazy.”         “ No, not at all… ” You smiled and put your hand on his arm to reassure him. “Just very Romantic for the bad boy of the Wayne family.” You teased him, knowing perfectly that literature always been Jason’s hobbyhorse and that the whole bad boy thing was a persona, a thick armour he had made to protect himself.     “Blame Alfred. He’s the one who made me ready Wordsworth.” He joked, appreciating the small banter. “Follow me.”           You took the warm hand he offered you and followed him inside the decaying building, minding your step and trying to ignore the dirt and the potential rats.          

Once on the third floor, Jason pushed a rackety wooden door that cracked and squeaked on its hinges and you entered what once was his house. “You grew up here?” You asked only to fill the heavy void caused by this dreadful place. “It was the living room. Used to hide under the table there when my parents were fighting.”

You looked around you, trying to imagine a small Jason living in here. You always knew about his crappy childhood but there is a huge difference between what you had imagined based on the stories Jason had told you in the intimacy of your bedroom and this place.       “You asked me why we’re here.” You turned around and spotted Jason knelt on the dusty wooden floor, a small dusty shoebox that he had just taken from under a floorboard between his hands. “I’ve had this since I was a child. Used to keep the things I loved most in it. Somehow, even after I left this place, I never could take it away from here.” He handed it to you and you slowly opened it, careful not to drop it. You could tell this box was important to Jason.

The content left you silent and you sat on the floor near Jason to study it. “I never really opened it. I don’t like getting stuck in the past. It terrifies me.” You frowned, thinking about all the nightmares, all the anxiety attacks he used to have back in the days you were together. “I never showed it to anyone either but hopefully that’ll answer the question you asked me in that coffee shop.” The question? You had forgotten about it, way too overwhelmed by the sudden solemnity of this moment.  “Never?”           “You’re my first. You should be proud” He tried to joke to lighten the mood and it worked for a couple of seconds. Then, you saw it, among a dog toy, a broken necklace, a batarang and other small tokens. A photo of you two kissing and smiling. A Polaroid you had personally taken on the day when Tim had offered you the camera to illustrate your travel book. “You kept it.” You declared in a whisper.     “I told you. I keep the things I love most in that box.” You stared at Jason, at the cracks of melancholia and the vulnerability in his beautiful blue eyes he allowed only a few people to see. “Of course I thought of you over the years.”       You were not the cheesy romantic type. Jason was - something rooted to his love for gothic literature and poetry you supposed. But that sincere and pure confession got you all … flushed? bothered? You couldn’t really pinpoint the feeling but you could feel the shaky warmth spreading in your body, now paralyzed by the beauty of that moment. “Did you … think of me?”

If Time could stop, you would have chosen this moment to stop it. Here, now, away from your stressful life and its issues, away from all fears and all pains, with Jason and only him, forgetting about the past you’ll never be able to change or the future that vows to be uncertain and scary, thinking about what truly matters, now. “What do you think?” He chuckled and you saw his hand slightly twitch, as if he was hesitating to do something. And so you took it in yours and shared an umpteenth intimate look only he could read. “Sometimes I wish I’d never left.” Meaning, sometimes I wish I would have stayed and be with you.           “Trust me, princess. You made the right choice. Your life would have been miserable with me.” He tried to reassure you, in vain. After all, he could barely convince himself? “More miserable than the one I have right now? I seriously doubt it, Jay.” You frowned and finally got up, leaving Jason’s box on the ground, to watch at the sunset and its red golden rays from the shattered window. “What do you think would have happened had I stayed?” You had your ideas; small little ones of pure love, happiness and bliss that Jason would have managed to lock in that little box of his. “I have a better question, Y/N. What do you think can happen right now?” He was towering you, expecting an answer, waiting as he was gazing at your skin glowing under the soft light of the sun and at your shining eyes. “You tell me, Todd.” This sentence echoed in Jason’s head as a call.

And so his thumb brushed your cold cheek and you looked up at his face, your eyes glued to his features observing them and all the small details you hadn’t noticed before. A little scar thin as a needle on his right brow and a much bigger one, an invisible one that you could see in his eyes, the scar left by all the losses and the pains he had gone through recently. Roy, Bizarro, Artemis. Maybe Jason had changed as well after all. Maybe there was no secret to stop time. But he didn’t let you ponder over this and gently pressed his lips on yours.

He needed that. He had thought about it all day and the truth was, you had too. You welcomed his kiss without hesitation or second thoughts and came to press your small body against his - which seemed so tall and strong in comparison to yours – to instinctively look for safety and protection. “I missed you, princess.” He whispered close to your mouth for a brief second before capturing your full lips with his again. “I missed you too.” You confessed, hands over his hard chest, feeling his heart beat loudly under your palms.     Jason was holding you close now, his arms tightly circled around your form as if he was scared for you to leave, scared to be alone again. His fingers weaving in your hair, his head buried in the nape of your neck, he was pecking your delicate skin, smelling the sweet and heady perfume, glad it was exactly like the one he remembered. “Damn, Y/N. You’re still driving me crazy.”  He murmured as he allowed his hands to slide in your coat and under your jumper to caress your bare back, awakening a cheekiness that you thought was long gone. “I tend to believe constancy is a quality.” You quoted him.

***

           As soon as the door to your apartment slammed shut, your coat dropped to the floor and with hasty hands, Jason threw your beanie across the room, showing an excitement you had almost forgotten. It almost knocked an old crystal vase over but he couldn’t care less.   He had waited long enough. Two years to be precise and he couldn’t wait a second longer. “Bedroom?” He asked between two hungry kisses that were making you almost suffocating against him. “ At the end of the corridor.” You whispered, already breathless, as you managed to finally get rid of his leather jacket.       “Okay.” He suddenly grabbed you to hoist you up with incredible ease, hands under your ass, squeezing it on purpose. A lustful yet cheerful action that made you yelp in surprise.  “I’m already making you scream? Perfect.” He declared with an amused smile as he rushed towards the bedroom, with you in his arms, your legs wrapped around his waist, his lips devouring yours.     “Wrong door.” You said as he tried to open the bathroom. “Fuck.” You giggled and very soon your body finally bounced on your bed as it landed on the soft mattress.

You attempted to sit down to admire Jason but before you could do anything the hasty young man was already on top of you, right in between your legs, his lips already kissing your hot belly as his hands were slowly pulling up your jumper above your lace-covered breasts.           That’s when your first moan finally escaped your mouth. “God. I missed that sound.” Jason mumbled against your shivering skin as he cupped and squeezed your round breasts. “Do it again.” He demanded, his tongue licking you up until it reached your cleavage. “Jason.” You moaned his name, feeling a very specific humid warmth forming in between your legs as you fingers were struggling to get rid of his green t-shirt.   He cursed and knelt on the bed to take off your jumper that he carelessly tossed on the nightstand. It knocked the lamp and the radio alarm clock to the ground with a loud clinking noise. “Can you stop breaking my stuff?” You joked and he apologized with another amused bright smile. “I’m sorry, princess”             “Are you? Show me how much.” You declared with an audacious confidence you hadn’t seen in a while. “Yes, ma’am.” Jason winked and immediately unbuttoned your jeans to pull them down along with your panties, revealing your wet and rosy womanhood begging for his attention. He sighed and took a deep breath when he saw it, glad to rediscover that little part of you. Slowly, his calloused fingers went to caress it, making you draw a sharp breath as your fingers tightened around the covers. You didn’t want him to tease you too long and you somewhat you know he wouldn’t. Not today. He was too excited and needy for that.     And so were you in a way judging by the certain frustration that made you mewl when Jason’s expert finger slowly entered you while his thumb came to tickle your swollen clit. You wanted him now but you had to admit you had missed his fingers down there, the same way you had missed everything about him. Which reminded you there was something you had to do. “Let’s even the odds, shall we? I want to see how you handle such a sweet torture.”   “Sweet torture?” He repeated with a cute chuckle as you unbuckled his leather belt. “How am I torturing you, Y/N?” You unzipped his black trousers and immediately plunged you hand in his underwear to gently grab his already hard cock, making Jason curse even more crudely than before.           You chuckled and free his shaft from his boxers to jerk him off. He was as thick and long as you remembered. You bit your lower lip, impatient to feel him inside you. “Like what you see?”             “Shut up.” You knelt on the mattress and immediately took his tip between your lips to suck it like a lollipop, enjoying the taste of his bitter pre-cum on your tongue and the sound of Jason’s sharp breath in your ears. “Damn it, princess.” He managed to say with half lidded eyes.   You licked his penis with a grin before finally welcoming it in your mouth with a lustful moan. How much you had missed it. “You know. I think I get what you mean by sweet torture now.” Jason confessed as he weaved his fingers in your soft hair, torn apart by two ideas: one, let you continue your amazing blow job. Two, fuck you like he never did before. But you did not listen and started bobbing your head the way you knew he loved, taking his dick as deep as you could without gagging around him. “Fucking hell, Y/N” Jason groaned as he grabbed your head between his hands to accompany your pace. “You’re fucking amazing.” Then, his hand gently slapped your ass and he bent over to kiss it with a loving smile that was swallowed by another growl of his as his abs violently tensed with pleasure. “Alright, enough.” He pushed you flat on your back and placed himself between your legs again. He kissed your folds and licked your slit to wet it even more than it already was to finally lingered on your clit that he sucked eagerly, forcing a guttural crying moan out of your tightly sealed lips. Damn, that tongue! “I thought you said enough.” You complained, your voice as low as a whisper.

Jason chuckled and smiled brightly before he eventually knelt in between your spread thighs. “God, how gorgeous you are.” He declared as he tapped his hard cock against your reddened lips, a cheeky gesture whose sole purpose was to make you beg. You knew it. “You want this?”       “Fuck, Jay.” You grumbled, moving your hips vigorously against his shaft, looking for a way to finally welcome it inside you. But Jason ignored your whim and bent over your body. “You want me?” His face was so close to yours you could feel his hot breath caressing your lips. “Yes.” You murmured. “I want you, Ja…” He did not let you finish your sentence and caught your lips with a burning eagerness, his hand around his cock guiding it inside you, making you moan in his mouth. “Fuck.” Jason growled between his gritted teeth as he felt himself slowly sinking inside of you. “I almost forgot you felt so tight.” “ I almost forgot you were so big.” You cleared your voice, an inexplicable mechanism to relax and allow his cock to fully enter and stretch you. “I know. Sorry.” He winced, adjusting his position on top of you to admire how beautiful you were around his penis and how perfect you pussy was for him. “Damn. I don’t know if I’ll last long, princess.” Jason admitted with a shiver and you cried out when he suddenly pulled out to push himself back inside of you with one long exquisite move. “That’s alright. We’ll do it again.”

Those last words made Jason grin in a way he had never done before as he was genuinely happy that you didn’t want this to be a one-time thing, a casual lay to remember the old good days.       So he immediately took a nice pace that quickened after each new thrust and you let your hands caress his smooth chest from his strong pectorals down to his divine abs and the chiselled V below his navel, finding him simply handsome. Then you nudged his rear with your ankles, pressing his hips closer to yours to take him deeper inside of you, and started moaning his name again, a strong wave of pleasure forming in your core, ready to drown you. “Jay!” His mouth met your neck and sucked on the thin skin with ardour. “Are you gonna cum for me, princess?” That was too much to handle. “Yeah” You cried out, tears of bliss watering your eyes.       “Cum for me then.” He didn’t have to say it twice. You dug your nails in his back and screamed loudly as your walls clenched around tightly his thick cock. “That’s it, princess.” He said as you kept calling his name on and on, sending him closer to a most awaited orgasm that he eventually reached and let explode in you under the shape of a loud growled “fuck” and beads of white seed right inside of you. “Y/N” Jason groaned between his gritted teeth as he thrust hard and deep in you for the last time, his sweaty forehead against yours. “Jay!” You shouted again while clawing at his back painfully enough to make him wince and hiss.     Then he stopped moving, exhausted and breathless just like you, and watched you sink in the mattress trying to catch your breath. He caressed your hair as you both slowly came down from cloud nine. A kiss on your nose and he whispered. “You’re okay?” and in spite of the silliness of the question you nodded. “Never been better.”

Your lips found each other again and Jason let himself lie down on you, placing his head on your breasts, listening to your hearts pounding and to your loud ragged breaths. “I missed you.” He whispered and he held you body against his.     “I missed you too.” You repeated as you planted a kiss in his wet dark hair. “Did you have to keep your jeans on?” The question escaped with a laugh and Jason chuckled. “You know me. Didn’t want to waste any time.” He managed to gather the little energy he had left to sit down and finally remove his trousers as he thought he would feel more comfortable without them. “Oops. I think I broke your clock.” He grimaced as he noticed you the broken device on the floor and the flickering numbers flashing up endlessly on the screen. “I don’t care.” You said as you pulled Jason back against you. “We’ve got all the time we need.”

[meichenxi]

*rant commencing*

ok guys let’s sit down and have a think about the way we talk to kids, particularly neurodivergent ones, and the weight it carries

the other day, I opened up to a friend about something really hurtful my best (and only) friend said to me when I was fifteen. It was a moment of emotional intimacy and the first time I had brought it up seven years later and, once again, I got laughed at and told I was too fucking sensitive

and ok maybe yeah I was a ridiculous child. I’m a ridiculous adult, that shouldn’t be surprising. But this hurt and hurt and hurt and I was trying to think about why this in particular and not anything else was so painful

so here’s the situation. at fifteen, like many smart kids, everyone thought the world was open to me. Ok I had no social skills to speak of and was ostracised by teachers and students and family, but I was an optimistic kid, and in a disaster of a home situation (involving kidnappings and court cases and running away and being out of school for a year and a brother starting drugs at 12 and living in a shelter and basically just a LOT) I was always the smiley helpful one. and apart from being defeated by very simple mechanisms like idk drawers or biscuit packets, I picked things up quickly. I took GCSEs early and extra and tutored others; I was a regional competitive swimmer in breaststroke and open water; I taught myself the flute and got into an international touring youth orchestra without lessons; I won a poetry competition for adults in primary school; I played competitive netball and was a long distance runner; I drew and sold my art; I wrote shitty novels and started making conlangs and was interviewed on bbc world about it; I loved performing and was invited to join a theatre company when I left school; and my biggest passion in the entire world apart from Tolkien was martial arts. And the best thing was for my parents - one of whom was disabled and didn’t work and the other who was a cleaner - is that I worked two paper rounds and tutored younger children and earned all of the money for it myself. blah blah blah. I was your mum’s friend’s kid. 

well, I’m a disaster adult, so you can probably guess that none of that lasted for very long. and there are gazillions of people here with exactly the same story. 

the point in question, though, was when I was fifteen and thinking about sixth form (the last two years of school in the UK) it was becoming clear alarmingly fast that you weren’t allowed to just keep doing everything you loved. at some point you had to make a choice. 

but how could I give up swimming for music? Or music for languages? Or languages for athletics? Or athletics for theatre? or, actually, all of them but one???? how did people just know what they had to do with their lives? how did they choose? 

the problem was, I said to my friend, I know I could do well at any of them, so how was I supposed to choose? (tactless and a stupid thing to say and also just not true but I was fifteen and simultaneously disgustingly cocky and cripplingly insecure) And he laughed and said, well, fuck you then. 

oh noooo. poor meeeeeee. I’m so fucking good at things what do I dooooo

I haven’t stopped thinking about that comment for seven years. Every single time I think about wasting my potential, every time I can’t sleep because I’m terrified that I’m not being productive or useful and hating myself because I’m upset that I can’t do something right away and I know it’s a stupid thing to be upset about - I think about that comment. I’m lucky. It’s alright for some. 

because, actually, being expected to know what to do with your life aged 15 is a fucking terrifying thing. we were kids at fifteen being told to make decisions as if we had all the facts, as if we weren’t also being blindfolded and spun around in circles until we couldn’t stand. Do you do what your parents say? what you think you want to do? what your teachers say? do you just stay in education even though it’s not for you because your dream is stupid, or because you don’t have a dream like everyone else seems to? are you supposed to have a dream?

*it’s NOT a stupid thing to worry about*

particularly when? well, when your entire self worth equates to the things that you output, the things that you do. so just for a moment, put yourself in the shoes of all of these wonderful, dazzling, damaged, crazy kids with big dreams and big hearts, kids that are struggling right now and kids that are our future, and imagine that you’ve been told since you were old enough to read or speak or walk that you’re just so very clever

isn’t it just wonderful how clever you are? isn’t it just great how we never need to worry about you? you’re such an easy child, it’s a blessing. always so considerate, so thoughtful, never making a fuss! isn’t it just fantastic how well you do in school? I can’t imagine what it must be like to have a child who went to all of those nasty parties. you’re so dedicated

raise your hand if you were only ever told you were good. raise your hand if you were never told you were kind. 

so, what happens? you take a child, and you tell them for its entire childhood that they’re clever. You don’t tell them that they’re creative, or hard-working, or dedicated, or driven, or helpful. You let them know that it’s ok that they’re weird, because they’re going to be successful. what do you think parents say to their kid who’s crying because she has no friends and she doesn’t understand what the other children are thinking and why they would hurt each other like that? even good parents, the very best of them, say things like: you’re just more mature than they are. it doesn’t matter. keep your head down - you’ll show them. 

your child, in the best case scenario, has access to her hyperfixation that makes the world big and bright and beautiful. she’s a bit weird, but it’s kind of cute. anyway, she’s good at it. and as long as she succeeds, conventionally, and you get to brag, then it’s ok that she’s a little bit unconventional.

and then things to break, just a little. and then, aged eleven, your child is having an asthma attack in the classroom because she got so anxious she couldn’t answer a maths question she couldn’t breathe. it’s ok, her parents tell her the next day. you’re just not good at maths - that’s alright. you don’t have to be good at everything

your child, because she’s perceptive, begins to realise that things don’t get better as you get older. people are just as cruel at 12 as they are at 7, and they’ll be just as cruel at 15. and then one day, as a bad joke because she doesn’t really understand humour, she writes a fake text to her dad from someone’s phone in legalese that actually has a secret code hidden it in that she knows her dad will crack right away because he’s brilliant. she thinks it’s hilarious. her father thinks he is being threatened, and spends the next week in meltdown, bedridden and burnt-out. and when she owns up, he turns and snaps at her, and says as if you could write something like that. an ADULT wrote this, not a fucking child

and suddenly, that cleverness they kept talking about? they don’t even understand that. 

suddenly, no one sees her at all. 

she needs to learn to be like the other kids. to be like a fucking child. and while she’s learning, she doesn’t speak for a year

that happened to me, but take your pick - I’m sure you don’t have to look far to find examples of your own. 

My point is this: if you tell a child for their entire life that the only thing that is worthy of being loved is what they achieve, if every time they do something they love you tell them oh, you could be a famous writer! you’re so talented! rather than saying that you loved listening to their story, if you only praise them when they’re good and quiet and convenient and tell them that as long as they succeed, it doesn’t matter if they don’t have friends or if they’re miserable, and THEN you tell them to choose ONE THING and drop 90% of everything that makes them who they are - 

what the hell did you THINK was going to happen??

because here’s the first thing. for many kids, whether that’s because of neurodivergence or age maturity or whatever, hyper fixations and hobbies aren’t just things they like to do. THEY ARE LIFELINES. they’re the things these kids go to when they’re hurt, angry, upset, because they make sense. for many kids, especially but not always girls, they are able to camouflage themselves and mask tendencies of neurodivergence because they’re ‘good students’. at a family gathering once, my mum, so frustrated at my inability and lack of desire to talk to any members of my extended family, snatched my German grammar book and locked it in the boot of the car. knowing that I escape and read it in the toilet was the only thing keeping me going, exhausted and stressed and overwhelmed. I vomited on the grass.

and here’s the second thing. you tell us from an early age that they only way we’ll ever be acceptable to the rest of society is if we succeed. autistic kids are fine, as long as they’re international maths olympiad champions. adhd kids are fine, as long as they’re famous athletes. if you’re obsessed with musicals that’s ok, as long as that obsession leads to a well-paying job as a successful writer on Broadway. 

and then you tell us that we only have one chance at that success? and this decision determines the rest of our lives? and that we had so much potential when we were kids, and we better not waste it now? that not everyone is so lucky to be able to choose between so many things?? 

because being asked to choose between these things isn’t being asked to choose a hobby. when the only way anyone else defines you positively is by your success in one area, that becomes your entire identity. 

so no, we’re not being too sensitive when you ask us to pick and choose what career, or what hobby to take forward. you’re not asking about hobbies. you’re asking us to choose what kind of person we want to be. you’re asking us to choose the most impactful way we can give back to the world, because we can’t waste those god-given talents. you’re asking us to figure out, still a child and hopelessly lost, what our purpose on this planet is. and you’re looking at us as if the ways that we survived all of these years, the things we clung to for comfort, are things we can just cast aside without further thought

ask me now, and I’ll tell you that’s not the way things work. we have second chances and third ones and tenth ones, we can be different things to different people and we can do different things at different parts in our lives, and be successful in different areas. life isn’t a fucking flowchart. and I’m still trying to come to terms with all the things I could have been, and my freak-outs about ‘wasted potential’ are so clockwork I could plan my calendar around them, but I’m beginning to understand that life doesn’t end when you’re twenty, or when you haven’t written a best-seller by eighteen. you have time.   

but at fifteen? at fifteen, that question broke me. 

do you know what you can do instead? you can show a little thoughtfulness. you can be kinder, and lead by example, and praise your kids when they’re kind too. when your son runs to you and shows you what you think is a better picture than you - a stick figure artisan, if you say so yourself - could ever create, you can actually just say you really like it. you can ask him if that’s him and daddy and the dog on a cloud. describe the picture back to him, and engage with this thing he’s made from his imagination - tell him the clouds he’s drawn are so big and fluffy and white, and ask if there are giant spiders living there. you know how to shut a child up? tell them yes dear, it’s wonderful. don’t be that person. promote your kid’s creativity - ask questions, have fun, play with this thing they’ve made - and not destroy it

when your daughter comes to you and shows you a song she’s written, don’t tell her she’s so talented or that she could be a musician one day. just sing along. ask her why she wrote it, and what she was thinking of when she did. ask her if she could make it different for two people singing it at the same time. 

and if your child just really, really loves maths? let them do maths. it’s ok if their interests are stereotypical - as long as they love it and it’s fun, supporting them is wonderful. the best present my father ever got me was five hours of tutoring - an introduction to linguistics!! - when I turned twelve, starting on my birthday at 8am. I had never felt so understood and so loved. 

as much as these simple things can destroy someone’s life, can stop them talking for a year, you have the chance to be that one voice of kindness that is a friend where a young person needs it most. 

for me, this was the Bus Lady. I never knew her first name because I forgot immediately and was too embarrassed to ask again, but we got the bus together for two years right before I applied to university - she was a trainee teacher at my school. she saw that I missed tutor group and sat in the corridor every morning writing, and that I ran laps for an hour every lunchtime instead of sitting alone. but she came and sat with me one morning and asked what I was doing; I was developing a new shorthand and told her so warily. 

she didn’t raise her eyebrows or say wow, that’s...that’s amazing. instead she frowned and looked at me skeptically and said ‘But why would you do that? There are plenty of functional shorthands out there - what does your shorthand have that they don’t? Tell me about it.’

I had no idea what to say

this was the first time anyone had actually ENGAGED in any capacity with what I was doing. and just like that, just by treating me seriously and asking valid questions and pointing out inconsistencies, I was a person who happened to have an idea that was in some serious need of questioning, and not a freak

there’s no way she remembers that interaction; she’s been a teacher now for year and probably doesn’t even remember who I am. But I had been this close to not going to university, to not bothering, and she made me stop, and wait a moment

she will never know the difference that that conversation and two months of kindness on the bus from a stranger made in my life. 

so let’s be kind to each other, please. let’s be forgiving. let’s challenge each other and let’s engage with kids with special interests and listen to them talk. and so to any educators or teachers or parents or even other kids, I want to say - let’s treat our words seriously and with respect, like we treat our children, because they have immense capacity to hurt, because they can be used for good. 

to any other fifteen year olds in a similar position, I just want to say: none of us here on tumblr have properly sorted our lives out, but I promise you it does get so much better.

you’re not too sensitive. you’re not a freak. you’re not only acceptable because you succeed. I know if you’re masking you feel you have to and it’s for survival, and I’m sorry, because you shouldn’t have to. and you should never, never have to think that you ‘have it good’ or that you’re lucky and are not allowed to hurt. there’s always some one who has it worse, and you can’t stop beat yourself up about that. fuck anyone who tells you otherwise. if you have gone through trauma, if you have unhealthy coping mechanisms, if you are depressed or anxious or otherwise mentally ill and some of it stems from this, I am so very very sorry. but you will be ok, even if you can’t write for a couple of years, or even if things change. you’ll get there. speaking as someone who is now writing for the first time in six years, drawing for the first time in longer, it’s scary and new and weird, but you will come out the other side. 

and you do work hard. and you are creative. and you are loved. and you are so very, very kind.

*rant over*

[n0-eyedtaissa]

Don’t You Forget About Me (Outer Banks OC x The Pogues): Chapter Four

tagging: @hughstheforcelou @reggiemantleholdmyhand-tle@cactiem & @kazinejghafa.

(chapter one can be found here, chapter two can be found here, and chapter 3 here)

Part Two: One Year Later

key event: the big move

There’s a lot that can happen in a year, a whole cycle of three hundred and sixty-five days. It was a year full of memories, a year full of recounting the smallest of details to her dad, to the cops, and to herself. Clementine was the last person who saw Kimber as she snuck out the window, getting picked up at the foot of the driveway by Liam Gatwin (who over the last year had become more and more suspicious). Kimber doesn’t come home after that. It takes three days for Lyle Adams to report his oldest daughter is missing. The police thought that was suspicious, but they didn’t know Kimber. She was an adult, technically, not confined to the household, and it wasn’t unlike her to spend a few nights at Gat’s house. The question that everyone wondered was “Why didn’t you report it sooner?” and the simple answer to that was no one thought anything was wrong. Yet…little did they know. 

Clementine has had a tough year herself. She stopped sleeping, too wracked with the guilt of knowing there could be so much more she could be doing to help Kimber’s case. She knew all the details and had the timeline she’d written down on the back pages of the notebook that was now kept under her mattress. Clementine’s a lot jumpier now, around both her father and around Gat…around everyone now actually. It was like she crept around every corner waiting for something else to be taken away from her. Sure, she was like that as a kid, always anxious about something, but now she had a reason to be. First she lost her mom, then Kimber disappeared, and now the family was moving out of the only place where Clementine could feel either one of them. She tapes another big cardboard box closed and adds it to the stack in the corner of her empty room. Clementines eyes can’t seem to adjust to the look of her bare, white walls so she walks into the living room to curl up on the couch — the same spot where Kimber would sit and watch reruns on the history channel with her dad. 

“Quitting time already?” Lyle asked his youngest daughter with a smirk and a twitch of his mustache. He sits down on the couch with a groan and kicks his feet up on the coffee table. 

“I might get back to it later I just hate looking at how empty it is in there” Clementine sighs, “The white walls hurt my eyes.”

Lyle chuckles as he grabs the television remote. “Well, this time next week you’ll have a whole new room to decorate however you want, right?” He flicks on the TV and that’s the end of the conversation. 

Of course, Lyle Adams got the job over in the Outer Banks. A few months beforehand he flew out to North Carolina from Florida (something he didn’t like as he was notoriously claustrophobic) for the job interview where the dock owners asked him questions about his past jobs and his family life so of course, he passed with flying colors. He was charismatic, a hard worker, and incredibly experienced. He was able to work under pressure and various kinds of duress (such as having his oldest daughter disappear without a trace in the middle of the day that past June).

“I guess” Clementine answers, not in the mood to feign more enthusiasm than she has been. 

Lyle looks over at his daughter and sighs. “Look, Clem, I know things have been hard lately. Beyond hard, actually…” He turns down the volume of the tv and turns towards her. “And that’s why I think it’ll be good for us to get away from here, all right? It’s time for us to get away from all of this hurt so we can heal. We deserve a fresh start, as a family. Me, you, and Gat”

Clementine scoffs at her dad. “He’s not our family, Dad. He never has been.” She stands up and prepares to storm off like a typical angsty teenager. 

Lyle rolls his eyes, having always favored Liam Gatwin over most of his other workers on the Caprice. He definitely liked Gat more than any of Kimber’s boyfriends from the past…Sometimes Clementine thought that her dad might actually like Gat more than he really liked either one of them. Sure she knew that her dad loved her sister and herself but there was time where Clementine wasn’t quite sure if he liked them. So when Clementine found out that she was moving, and that Gat was coming with them, she immediately wasn’t a fan of the idea. But she couldn’t tell anyone about that— that would unravel the story she worked so carefully to spin in order to cover for Kimber, even though she disappeared. Lyle may have trusted Gat to be his little helper on the fishing boat, but Clementine didn’t trust him at all. How could she? He was there when Kimber snuck out the window. He hugged her, wiped away her tears, and loaded her up into his truck, never to be seen again. Clementine will always remember that moment, down to the most minuscule details. She made eye contact with Gat that day, she knew that for sure. He nodded at her and she nodded back. What they were agreeing to, however, was still unknown to Clementine and would be for quite some time. 

“After all he’s done for us Clementine, he’s family. Whether you like that or not, he’s coming with us. End of discussion.” Lyle grumbles and turns back to the television, cranking up the volume loud enough where he wouldn’t be able to hear any further complaints. 

Clementine shakes her head angrily and turns down the hall to go back to her room, but something tells her to stop in front of Kimber’s bedroom door. She raises her fist to knock on the door before she realizes she doesn’t need to do that anymore. Force of habit. Slowly she turns the doorknob and lets herself into her sister’s closed-off room, feeling like some kind of intruder. The bedroom feels like a sort of untouched time capsule, a snapshot moment in time that proved Kimber lived there, even though she was gone now. It still smells like jasmine oil and the faint whisper of burnt out candles that Kimber was always falling asleep with still burning. Most of Kimber’s things are still unpacked, there’s a stack of boxes in the middle of the room from when Lyle tried to get started but got too overwhelmed with the task. Clementine grabs a partially full box and starts tossing things inside. 

Kimber’s bedroom was always a treasure trove of Stuff. She had lots of little boxes filled with odds and ends: a jewelry box filled with small silver earrings, an empty cigarette pack that was filled with beads from a necklace she broke but swore she’d get around to fixing sometime soon. She was always keeping secrets and her bedroom was reminiscent of that. Everywhere Clem reached she pulled out some little object that Kimber was hiding. There's a plastic bag taped to the underside of her desk that has two little pressed pills in it. It’s molly, Clementine remembers when her sister bought it and came home with her pupils the size of saucers. She laughs and pockets it for later before heading over to the closet to attempt to fold up the bulk of Kimber’s clothes. Clementine fills up one box and then another, labelling them with one of Kimber’s many graffiti markers and stacking them on top of her still unmade bed. 

Clementine’s too focused on packing boxes and emerging herself in her sister’s corner of the universe for a while that she doesn’t realize that her dad has poked his head in the door. 

“You’re packing up in here?” Lyle questions, looking startled and out of breath.

Clementine looks up at her dad, holding on to one of her sisters jackets. “Someone had to do it” She shrugs, turning back to the boxes.

Lyle takes his hat off and runs a hand through his greying hair. “I was— I was coming down the hallway and I saw the light on…I” He laughs to mask his disappointment. 

Clementine’s face falls as she realizes what her dad was assuming. She quirks her lips, evading eye contact. “Nope…it’s just me”

~~~

The house got packed and then the movers came. Everything was changing now and Clementine had stowed her feelings about the topic deep in the boxes that were filled with the rest of her belongings. She still didn’t really know how to feel about moving twelve hours away. Despite everything though, Clementine couldn’t deny the appeal of road trips. She like the anonymity of rest stops, the ugly florescent lights that gave everything that particular green hue. She liked to wander up and down the aisles of the convenience stores that felt frozen in time, reading the bizarre slogans on the bedazzled t-shirts and trying on cheap pairs of sunglasses Clementine “accidentally” steals. She liked the giant portion sizes and demanded her dad buy her the biggest medium-sized cherry slushy that she’s ever seen. It’s a long trip but it’s not too bad when her dad lets her pick the music. They switch off every couple of hours and Lyle pretends to hate everything Clementine puts on but she still catches him tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel. The two of them  spend the night at a cheap motel and Clementine steals all the loose change from her dad’s pants pockets in order to raid the vending machine. She sneaks out of the room and sits on the back of the truck eating her peanut butter M&M’s under the neon red lights of the hotel sign. Sneaking back into the hotel room, Clementine takes of her sneakers and gets under the scratchy sheets, staring at the water-stained ceiling and preparing for another day on the road tomorrow. 

“Wake up, kid. We got a long day ahead of us” Lyle whispers as he shakes Clementine awake, knowing full well that she wasn’t much of a morning person. 

It’s still dark outside when the two of them leave the hotel, Clementine’s bundled up in one of her dad’s old sweaters and she’s lulled back to sleep by the slow bounce of the truck tires on the open road. She wakes up startled when her dad rolls over a big pothole and she hits her head against the window. “Are we there yet?” Clementine mumbles, squinting through the sun and pulling her hood up far over her head. 

Lyle laughs, looking at her from the corner of his eyes, reaching a hand out to pull Clementine’s hoodie over her eyes. “Go back to sleep, Tiny” 

~~~

Clementine doesn’t know how long she fell back to sleep for or how long her dad was driving before he shakes her awake again. “We’re almost there, kiddo. Look at this view! This is our new home!” Lyle taps excitedly on the steering wheel as he cruises the truck up the coastline. It’s a vast expanse of blue water, speckled with ships and other various boats. Clementine sits up as she notices a handful of surfers catching the crisp waves, craning her neck to watch them as they drive up the long road. 

Then she sees it. The sign, sunbaked and faded, enticing her to believe something she wasn’t really sure about yet: The Outer Banks, Paradise On Earth.

“Welcome home, Clementine” Lyle says, honking the horn to let everyone know that they’d arrived. 

Home. Clementine looked around, taking in her new surroundings. She likes the look of the small town, the mom & pop shops that had probably been there for decades, the people who made a point of waving at them as they drove past. But Clementine knew enough about wealth disparity to be able to recognize the difference between the different parts of town, noticing the big plantation houses and the flashy ways they tried to cover up their dark history. She knows damn well that her dad couldn’t afford a house like that so she’s not surprised that they drive a little longer, until the roads turn into dirt and pebbles and the much smaller houses have chipped paint and slanted rooftops. The truck tires crunch under the gravel as Lyle pulls up in front of an empty yellow house with a screened-in mudroom. Clementine opens the door to spring out before her dad can even shift the truck into park. She stands out in front of the house and just looks at it. It definitely had potential but it needed a decent amount of sprucing up. It needed plants and string lights on the patio, an outside umbrella. It needed cheesy yard art, or a welcome home mat in front of the front door. Right now it was just a house, it hadn’t yet become a home but that would happen all in due time. 

Clementine turns to her dad, squinting at him over her stolen gas station sunglasses, “It definitely has potential”.

[gintokisimp]

Whatsername

short angsty fanfiction that I wrote, based on the song “Whatsername” by Green Day. I recommend to listen to that song before or while reading. 

Enjoy! Or not..

The sunset blossoms upon the clouds, replacing the light blue color of the heavens that perfectly mirrored the delicate pattern of the lone mans yukata, with a deep sky of fire. The orange gold stretched above him, reflecting in his crimson eyes that gazed into the endless depths.

Hollow, dead eyes. Half-closed as if he was tired of taking in the world around him. Wavy silver hair lined his face, slowly swaying in the light breeze of an early autumn evening. The thick fabric of his cloud white attire rested on the hard stone. A run-down wooden sword scratched over the surface as it moved, tugged in his belt under his deep breaths. The rock he was sitting on was still warm from the sunlight and his fingers welcomed the fading heat. Maple leafs in the most vibrant hues covered the surrounding ground. It was strange. The tree he was sitting beneath was the only one who shed its gown early. He was motionless, transfixed at the colorful dome above him. Was he enjoying it? No. Every day felt like a loss. With the progressing seasons, the evenings were getting shorter and colder and with each new sunset he grieved more and more. The grip of his fingers on the stone tightened as the wind around him picked up and send cold shivers down his spine. Deep in his heart he knew something, or rather someone should be here now, right beside him. Keeping him warm.

The breeze blew down the takegasa placed next to him. It took some time until he was able to tear his eyes from the red ocean above him and he looked down on the woven straw hat. The leafs were blown into it and almost covered it completely. Gintoki struggled to move his body down the rough surface. The sound of wood scratching against rocks harmed his ears and he flinched in discomfort. Bending his stiff back, he reached down for the hat and shook out the dead matter. One of the leafs was stuck between the stalks and he plucked it more carefully than he needed to. Holding the golden brown leaf between his fingers, he caught a trace of a sweet, womanly scent.

Remember

Everything reminded him of her.

The memories flooded him in regular intervals. Hurting him more and more with each repetition.

This leaf.. it reminded him of her soft Kimono snuggling around her curves. Moving gracefully with every step, gleaming softly in the sun of their last warm summer day. He visited Yoshiwara that day to help out Hinowa. At that point he already decided to leave everyone behind. He was prepared. Gintoki didn't have the heart to say no to her.

"Something up? Ya have been avoiding everyone since.. recently." Tsukuyo asked him. She awaited him in front ot the elevators after he finished his business.

"Nothing" re replied abruptly.

She simply smiled at his answer, blowing her smoke from her kiseru in his face. A warm breeze drove through her hair and carried her scent, covering the disgusting smell of the burnt ashes. Gintoki turned around and left her standing in the sun, feeling her eyes in his back.

His sword.. it reminded him of the countless times she was by his side.

His arm guards.. it reminded him of her fishnet stockings reaching up her long, perfect legs. Leading up to the high slit of her kimono, flattering her whole body.

His takegasa.. it reminded him about that one time when she was screaming in agony while he was badly wounded. This sound never left his head and pursued him ever since.

Just everything. The trees, the sky, every single thing around him.

Being alive reminded him of her.

The love incense only made it worse. It overwhelmed him so much, he even confessed to her. He played it off as the fault of the drug but he desperately suppressed everything since then.

Though he didn't realize it until he left her.

Whatever

It seems like forever ago

Forever. It really felt like forever. The days flew by so fast and yet so slow. They were separated for nearly two years and it got only worse.

He looked at his hand. He was still gently holding the leaf in between his fingers. Minutes had gone by. Black was crouching over the horizon and started to cover up the warm colors. He tried to crumble the leaf, but it was soft and kneadable in his numb fingers.

The regrets

A goodbye and farewell? He did not give it to her. He just couldn't do it. He just left her.

He didn't leave the town straight away. He prepared his lone endless journey. Buying new clothes, leaving everything familiar behind.

Edo, that cursed town that gave nothing to him. Back then he didn't realize how wrong he was. He was not preparing his mission. He was delaying his escape. His escape from everyone.

The feeling of being loved had become too much for him, especially coming from her. She never told him about her feelings, but he was too stupid to realize it sooner. His longing, growing feelings for her, made him weak. What if he lost everything again. He would not be able to recover from that. It was easier to leave everything behind and die alone. Alone with the guilt that was eating him alive.

Gintoki rembered the last time seeing her. He could never forget it. This memory was burnt into his eyes, worse than the sun leaving its trace while staring directly into it. They neither talked, nor had she seen him. On his way through the busy street, his takegasa hiding his face, he heard Shinpachis voice, whom he had avoided in the last days. Fleeing into a small alley, he noticed him leaning on a wall talking to.. her. Observing her from under the shadows, his heart was beating painfully. He knew he would never see her again and his body didn't comply with that. He felt his limbs weakening, forcing him to sit down in the dirt. Resting his face in his hands, he heard one sentence from Shinpachi.

"He's gone."

In his memories, the last glimpse of her face through his fingers was the most beautiful and heartbreaking sight he had ever seen.

She had tears in her eyes.

Gintoki stumbled away, clouded sight, deeper into the alley, farther away from her.

Are useless in my mind

She's in my head

Love is painful. Oh and how painful it was. Emotional pain is the worst thing in this entire universe. You can't take any medicine. It takes years to recover, if you recover at all. Each passing day since then dragged him down further and further.

Love is supposed to be symbiotic, not parasitic. But this loves dissolved him from the inside, leaving an empty shell gazing at the heavens.

I want to feel something again. Anything. Gintoki didn't stray far away from this rock for days. He couldn't feel hunger nor physical pain from his inconvenient resting situation. He wanted to feel it. But it could not get through. He only felt pain.

His mind told him, separation from her would take care of his emotions, but it was wrong. The pain of separation seeped into his bones, rendering him immobile for longer and longer terms each passing day.

But It will get better. I'll be okay. Give it time.

Time.

I must confess

He loved her. The burning pain will eventually take over parts of his brain, turning him emotionless.

It was too late. It was over.

Dusk was replaced by the gloomy night. The breeze cooled his skin as his eyes drifted back to the sky, caught by the infinite pattern of the gleaming lights. Stargazing, his head fell in his neck. Bathed in the light of the invisible sun, the full moon 月 was an even more beautiful poem 詠 than he remembered it from last night, composing a song with the pathetic little dots around him.

The moon.

A single tear ran down his cheek.

And in the darkest night

If my memory serves me right

I'll never turn back time

Forgetting you but not the time

[pjo-fangirl-13]

It's Always Been You

Percy sits at the peninsula in the kitchen. His water glass that sits on the marble counter top is momentarily forgotten about as he stares out blankly, watching the particles of dust float around in the beams of early morning sunlight. The digital clock displayed on the oven reads 4:27 a.m. but he's been here for over two hours after being woken by a significantly bad nightmare, and he's been thinking about it ever since.

There's a heavy feeling pressing onto his chest as an outcome of the dream. Something in the air feels off- though, maybe that's just him. He could choose to ignore the dream and go back to bed with his wife, but he sits there, contemplating it instead. It keeps playing in his mind, like there's someone pressing the replay button every time he tries to move forward. Percy squeezes his eyes shut as the words flash across his mind again.

Luke or Percy?

His dream was more of a nightmare. Even his nightmares about Tartarus he suffers from can't compare to the utter feeling of desperation he felt during this one. He'd stood there, motionless, watching as Annabeth was asked to choose between Luke or him. He expected her to choose him right off the bat- they are married after all, but he guesses that doesn't really mean anything, right? She'd stood there, mouth agape, as her grey eyes flickered between the two boys she loved so much, and ended up not choosing before Percy was jolted awake.

Now that Percy's really thinking abut it, he realizes how selfish it was to believe she'd choose him over Luke. After all, he's just her husband, whereas Luke gave her a sense of security, a family, a home, and practically raised her from the age of seven. It makes sense that if it came down to choosing, Annabeth would pick Luke, and Percy hates it. He wants her to choose him, but he doesn't blame her for not doing so.

She didn't choose either of you, his internal voice reminds him sternly. But that only makes him feel worse. Maybe he woke up too early and missed her decision. For all he knows, she could have chosen Luke and that makes him feel like absolute shit. No matter how much Percy wants her to choose him, he doesn't want her feeling like she's obligated to do so only because they're married. If Luke is who she really wanted before he died, who is Percy to take away those feelings for legal reasons?

And what does that say about Percy if Annabeth can't choose her husband over the guy who betrayed everyone they've ever loved? Including herself? Percy knows he isn't perfect, at all, and quite honestly, Annabeth deserves better than him. There are days when Percy can't even get himself out of bed because he's so mentally tired, leaving Annabeth to do all the work around the apartment. What kind of husband does that to his wife? He knows Annabeth can handle it, but she deserves so much more than Percy- not that Luke is the better alternative, but if that's what she really wants...

"Hey, what are you doing up so early?"

Percy snaps his eyes open and directs his gaze in the direction of her voice. His wife is leaning against the side of the fridge, her arms crossed and the skin between her eyebrows is pinched as he searches his face for an answer. When he doesn't respond after a few more seconds, she pushes herself off the fridge and crosses the kitchen in three quick strides to stand in front of him. She leans on her crossed around over the counter top and re-asks her previous question.  "I don't know," he lies. He doesn't want to tell her the reason he's been up since two in the morning. Not only is it irrational to be so worked up over a dream, but he doesn't want to hear the I would have chosen Luke escape her lips. But the way her eyebrows raise tells him she doesn't believe him. "What are you doing up this early?"  "Oh, darn, you caught me," Annabeth mutters. "I woke up. I had to pee."  "I- I had a dream," Percy admits quietly, shrugging nonchalantly. "It's not a big deal. Just shook me up a bit." He knows it is a big deal if it's making him so distraught and it did more than shake him up a bit, but he doesn't want Annabeth worrying about him. Especially at 4:43 in the morning when the sun has barely gone up yet. "Are you okay?" she asks, reaching out to squeeze his hand resting against the counter top, and the warmth of her skin against his doesn't make him smile, instead he feels like crying. He looks at their hands and bites his lip. If his dream is true, and she really does want Luke deep down, then does that mean everything that ever existed between them means nothing? He's just her second choice because there was no one else? "Perce, hey. Do you want to talk about it?"  He shakes his head and pulls his hand away. "No. It- it wasn't about Tartarus."  "Oh." She nods slowly. "Do you want to be alone?"  Percy hesitates. He knows that with the slightest nod of his head, she'll grab her coffee and whatever else she needs then leave him alone with his thoughts, but he's not so sure if that's such a good idea. But when he finally meets her eyes, he's slightly captivated by her irises sparkling in the sunlight filtering through the windows, and he suddenly doesn't want to be alone. He shakes his head. "No. Can you stay with me?"  "Yeah. Of course," Annabeth responds without hesitation, sauntering around the peninsula. She pulls out the stood beside him and plops herself down, smiling up at him lovingly as she runs her fingers over his shoulder and down to his back, caressing it in soothing circle. He relishes in her touch and lets his head fall onto her shoulder. "Do you want to tell me what's going on in that head of yours, or do you just wanna cuddle on the couch?" she asks and rakes her fingers through his hair.  He swallows thickly and lifts his head. "I had a dream."  "Yeah, you told me. What was it about?"  Percy bites his lips. He's ashamed and quite frankly disgusted with himself for even having such negative thoughts in the first place. Luke may be gone, but she didn't have to spend the rest of her life with him if she genuinely didn't want to, right? There are plenty of other guys inside and outside of camp she could have chosen to be with, but she chose him. She chose him and no one else to share sacred moments with. And he's questioning their relationship all because of a dream? Something his mind made up while he was sleeping? But if this is really bothering him, she has a right to know.. right? "I'm- I'm a second choice, right?" he asks quietly.  Her hand that had been rubbing soothing circles against his back freezes and she blinks. Her eyes shin with nothing but confusion and Percy suddenly feels stupid for asking such a silly question. "What?" she finally asks after stuttering out incoherent answers under her breath.  "I mean, if Luke hadn't..." he trails off, leaving it to her to figure it out.  "Percy, what are you- is this what your dream was about?" 

He nods and swallows the forming lump in his throat. "Yeah. You- you were given two choices: Luke or me. You couldn't leave until you made a decision and you couldn't choose both. I- I woke up before you made a choice but, I just think you would have chosen Luke."

"What? Why would you think I would choose him over you?" Annabeth asks.

"I don't know!" Percy throws his hands up in emphasis. He drops his shoulders and shakes his head with a sigh, hating when the heaviness on his chest increases and it's suddenly harder to breathe. "Maybe- maybe it's because he gave you a family when yours wouldn't accept you for who you are. Or maybe it's because he practically raised you and I know he will always have a place in your heart."

Annabeth stares at him as she tries to figure out something to say. "I-"

"Am I wrong?" he asks quietly, staring down at the counter top.

"You have never been more wrong," she says without hesitation, affectionately squeezing his shoulder. As he redirects his gaze back to her, he's almost immediately overwhelmed by the emotions swirling in her silver irises- love, passion, desperation, and seriousness. "Percy, he may have given me a temporary family, but you- you gave me so much more than that. You gave me my something permanent. You gave me love. You have me love. You gave me security. You gave me a permanent family and even helped make amends with my own. I couldn't ask for anything more than you. You're my best friend and the love of my life. Don't let anything question that."

"You liked him," he pushes back weakly, already knowing she's right. She's always right.

Annabeth scrunches her nose in distaste. "When I was a child, maybe. Even then I idolized him more than anything. He was always a big brother to me." She leans forward and takes his face into her hands, stroking the skin beneath his eyes with the pads of her thumbs, and Percy leans into her gentle touch. "The bottom line it, I love you and only you. Nothing will ever be able to change that. I choose you, okay? I'll always choose you."

"Okay," Percy whispers. "I'm sorry."

"No, don't be sorry," Annabeth says in the same tone. "I'm glad you talked to me."

"Me too," he says and intertwines their hands, giving hers a squeeze three times and she does it right back to him; a silent, mutual, I love you. He smiles, a real genuine smile, and it hurts his cheeks but he's too happy to care. Percy feels like he's sixteen again- minus the burnt cupcake- sitting with his crush who would soon become the love of his life. Here he is, seven years later, with that same girl, understanding he was never her second choice, but her first choice all along.

Annabeth breathes out a laugh and pulls him in, closing the distance between them. Their lips connect in a searing kiss, and Percy all but melts into her. With one arm around her waist, finger slipping beneath the hem of her pajama shirt, he buries his other hand in her wild mane of blonde curls, holding on tight as if she'll disappear the moment he lets ago. She tightens her grip around his neck before pulling away a second later. "I love you, Percy, so much. And it's always been you. There's never been a doubt about it."

"I love you too, Annabeth," Percy says quietly. "More than anything."

She grins and pulls him in for another kiss that leaves his brain feeling numb.

[innittowinit]

Can you pick me up? my uni burnt down (Chapt. 2)

Relationships: Sleepy bois inc (all fics i write are platonic)

Summary: 

 In which Techno goes to England for University, his building catches fire in the night, and he isn't prepared for the difference in climate between England and California. SBI fluff ensues

Chapter summary: 

After waking up, Wilbur has the great idea that they should do a sleepy boys stream. Tommy doesn't get told about this id

Words: 1785

Language: English

AO3 Chapt. 1

Listen, waking up on a sofa, with a thin blanket shared with 3 men was never going to be the best morning. His back hurt and his legs were numb from Wilbur having sprawled out over the three of them as he slept. 

Stretching his arms back, he recounted the events of last night. God, it really was only a few hours ago, he was so tired. Had this been last year, he would have been able to stay up for days on end and then just crash for an entire weekend. It wasn’t last year though and Techno had gotten himself into a fairly healthy routine, he couldn’t exactly be sleeping through his uni classes anyway. 

“Alright you two” Hearing Philza’s voice, he propped his head up, “Get up, you can’t lay around all day”

A groan came from the mass of blankets and cushions that happened to be Wilbur, who was curled up in the centre of it,

“Phil it's so early and we went to bed so late. It’s fine to sleep in”

“Okay” he chuckled, humouring his tired friend “It’s midday Wil, im taking the blankets away now”

Techno thought it was much too early too, as he tugged the sleeves of Wilbur’s hoodie down a little further so they could act like gloves. 

“Do you mind if I use your PC to try and find out what’s going on with my classes at some point? They'll probably send me an email or something” He grumbled, standing up so he could stretch his back out properly, following Phil slowly to the kitchen.

“That’s fine, it's up in my room, do what you need”

Breakfast was nice, it had been a while since Techno had had time for it honestly, and even longer since he had been able to eat with people he cared about. He had a couple slices of buttered toast and a bowl of some british cereal which he didn’t really like but he didn’t want to be rude so he ate it anyway. 

“You wanna stream together later?” Wil asked through a mouth full of food, earning a snort from Phil. This was nice. 

“Yeah maybe, you use face cam though, I’m not like against showing them my face but y'know, it is what it is” he shrugged, spooning another mouthful of his breakfast into his mouth, he had to admit it was very bland, he much preferred the sweeter ones that were more popular in America. 

“Well think about it, if you decide you don't want them to see you, you can always just sit off to the side and I'll turn my monitor so you can still see it. My office is big enough for it anyway, it’ll be like where Niki was during that one MCC remember?”

Techno nodded and carried on eating, they really were 3 very sleepy boys right now. Maybe he’d take a nap once he found out what was going on with his classes. 

------------------

------------------

Streaming without any gameplay to comment about and with facecam on? Techno wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. That just didn’t really sound like something he was going to enjoy.

It was nerve wracking and he always seemed to glance at the camera too much when it was pointed at him. He knew the fans would be disappointed if he didn’t do it though, When Wilbur tweeted out saying that he and Phil would join him in a ‘you laugh you lose’ he watched as the replies freaked out. 

You could say he was just a bit camera shy, he wasn’t incredibly insecure, sure there were things he didn’t like that much but everyone had things like that, it just made him nervous to know that people were looking at him. 

He’d be okay with his friend’s though, he trusted that they’d never put him in an uncomfortable situation. He knew if he got overwhelmed he could sit outside the frame. 

It would be okay. 

“Hey hey chat” Wilbur mumbled into the mic, making it loud enough so that everyone could hear but it still sounded like he was whispering. 

“We’ve got the blade here, bet you weren’t expecting that huh chat? Or maybe you were, maybe you read the title of the stream, bet there’s someone watching who didn't think he’d be here though” he finally turned the music off and switched from his ‘starting soon’ screen to his regular camera. 

Wil went through the rules, it was the normal stuff, he added in some jokes here and there, prodding Techno and Phil to talk at times. They’d already agreed that this wouldn’t be for youtube, since that seemed to add a bit too much pressure for Techno, but hey, he still had to welcome his chat. 

“Okay!! First media share! Lets go”  

After a series of videos, some funnier than others, Techno had started to loosen up a bit. He was getting more comfortable with the camera and while he’d probably cringe while looking back at the footage, at least he was having fun right now.

He had a warm feeling in his chest that wasn’t usually there when he was streaming alone, sure it was usually fun but nothing was better than being with his friends while doing it, there was really only one person who was missing. 

As if on queue, chat started spamming Tommy’s name, for a moment Techno thought he had been mumbling his thoughts out loud, before he looked between Phil and Wilbur, who both seemed equally confused. Moving Wilbur’s mouse over the chat to pause it, Techno tried to read some of the messages. 

“Oh he tweeted something” he mumbled, pulling his phone out of his pocket without a care. Maybe some irl streamers would have used the computer but knowing Wilbur’s history, he doubted it could run Chrome and streamlabs at the same time. 

Looking at the tweet he felt a little pang of guilt. It was lighthearted and jokey but he knew there’d be a little truth to it. He nudged the other two and read it aloud to them. 

‘Damn guess I’m not a sleepy boy after all’

The air felt a little thick after that, they hadn’t meant to exclude Tommy; all of the excitement of Techno coming to stay had just made it a little hard to arrange to have Tommy here after all. 

Still, they probably should have still told him though. They were supposed to be each other's family.  

“Hey chat I think we’re gonna have to end stream early.” Wilbur finally piped up, deciding it wouldn't be right to carry on when they had hurt their friend, not that chat needed to know that though, he didn’t want to embarrass Tommy. 

“I feel kinda sick and I don't think you all wanna watch me vomit right? Yeah so it’s best we end it now” 

Techno sniggered to himself at that, in games Wilbur always seemed to be very cunning but he supposed he wasn’t very good at lying when it was about something he actually cared about. Said something being Tommy.  

After raiding Fundy, the trio hopped straight onto discord. 

Tommy didn't answer the first time he was called. 

Or the second. 

Finally, after three calls, Tommy decided he’d talk to them. 

“You are all a bunch of dick heads, you know that? What the hell! Why wasn’t I invited to the sleepy boy’s stream! Wilbur you bitch!” Through all the vulgar language and the constant yelling, it was clear that Tommy was genuinely upset. 

He had every right to be, as far as Techno was concerned. From his point of view his friend’s had just gone off and hung out without him. He just hoped he’d calm down once they explained everything.  

“You know I thought we were friends! I thought we were brothers! But if you don’t wanna hang out with a ‘kid’ you can just tell me and i’ll- i'll go!” He was still yelling, as usual, it was clear he was trying to make this into a joke where he could overreact but Techno noticed the small sniffles and the quiver in his voice. 

By the looks on Phil’s and Wilbur’s faces, they recognised it too.  

“Listen, Tommy” 

Wil was the first to talk, it made sense, it seemed that Tommy trusted him the most at times. Sometimes Techno could be a bit too cold and sometimes Phil could get a bit too overbearing.

Techno understood this, he didn’t take it personally, he knew it was only natural that you have people you trust with your emotions more than others. It didn’t mean Tommy didn’t love them just as much, just that they weren’t his ‘go-to’ when he felt down. 

Techno felt the same way sometimes. Feeling’s got complicated and personally he thought Phil was the best to talk to about that, the fact that he was older and had his life sorted out gave him a sense of comfort, like he could trust him because he knew what he was talking about. 

“We didn’t plan a meetup, it just sorta happened. Phil was at my place, helping me record, and then Techno’s Uni had a fire and he needed a place to stay while they’re making it safe again” Wilbur sighed as he heard Tommy moving on the other side of his mic. Techno wondered what he was doing. 

“We would have invited you, had we known that we’d all be in the same place Toms” 

Phil took over, giving Wilbur a little sympathetic smile. The brunette so obviously felt guilty about the situation. 

“But when we got the call from Tech’ it was past 3 in the morning and it was tipping it down with snow, as soon as we got home we all slept. We decided to do a stream this morning but never once did we intend to try and make you feel like you aren’t welcome with us” 

Finally it was Techno’s turn to talk...Fuck.

He wasn’t exactly the most sentimental guy, he struggled to show his emotions and he just assumed everyone he cared for just knew that he cared for them. He rarely had to say it out loud. God okay. He just had to swallow his pride and go for it. 

“Tommy you are a sleepy boy and you are our brother. We did kind of a dick move today and if I was you I’d probably be upset too. I know I didn't like seeing you guys playing without me during MCC and that wasn’t even any of our decisions. We should have called you or something. I know I kinda tease you a lot but that’s just how I show I like people. Listen Tommy if I didn’t care about you I wouldn’t be comfortable enough to make those kinds of jokes with you. It’s not funny if it’s hurting you though..”

Techno bit his lip, this wasn’t as hard as he had anticipated but it was coming out like word vomit. 

“You’re young Tommy but you’re so talented. We love you”

There was some more rustling, it sounded like Tommy was wiping his eyes. Maybe the boy had expected a yelling match, only for it to turn out to be very emotional. 

“I love you guys too.. If you ever exclude me ever again though I’m getting my vlog knife out”

[oneboxofmatches]

This is a request I did for the amazing @strawberry-caffeine​ -- she’s been so kind to me and it was an absolute joy to do this request!

A few things: With the length of the request, while I still included friendship matchups, I decided not to write out descriptions/explanations along with them. To (hopefully) make up for that, I put the #1 friendship choice in BOLD CAPITAL LETTERS with two other bonus characters I think you’d be good friends with in regular bold type (except for the Harry Potter: Marauders era because there aren’t many choices haha). I hope this is okay!!

Here we go!

--Supernatural--

I romantically pair you with…

JACK KLINE

You’re good at hyping your friends up? Please give this boy all the hype in the world -- he needs it.

Seriously though, one (out of many) of the reasons Jack loves you so, so much is how you’re able to talk him out of a slump. His constant doubts and insecurities regarding his identity plague him often, and the fact that you’re willing to both listen to him pour his heart out and still find a way to reassure him means the world.

Jack’s also still getting the hang of the whole “talking” thing, so you helping him along when a lull in the conversation arrives makes him feel supported.

Not only does your helpful nature benefit Jack, but it’s also one of his favorite traits of yours! He believes in a kind, just world and consistently seeing that from you never fails to bring a bright smile to his face.

Whenever you bottle up your feelings, however, Jack is admittedly at a loss at first. Though it would take patience, turning these moments into teaching opportunities will help him become more in tune with emotions over time.

During these moments, all he wants to do is help -- even before he really understands what’s going on. He’ll ask you what you need and rush to assist in any way he can. He hates seeing you hurt, it’s as simple as that.

Jack loves being around you because he learns so much, and you’re just as eager to teach him. Together, you learn to appreciate the little things in life because you both bring such different perspectives to the world.

Overall, the kindness you show Jack from the beginning is what drives your relationship, and he makes it his goal to make sure you know how loved and appreciated you are in return.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

CASTIEL, Garth Fitzgerald IV, Charlie Bradbury

--Harry Potter--

In the Golden Trio era, I romantically pair you with…

NEVILLE LONGBOTTOM

Honestly, Neville’s insecurities may make him feel a little intimidated by you at first. Thoughts like, “How could someone as friendly, energetic, and spontaneous as her ever love me of all people?” are pretty common in the early stages of your relationship.

Of course, you help Neville understand fairly quickly that you aren’t going anywhere. Because you’re so good at reading and interpreting emotions, you’re able to assist him with addressing these doubts head-on. These personal conversations are what truly solidify your trust in one another and serve as the strong foundations of a powerful bond.

Also, Neville really appreciates your ability to keep a conversation going. He sometimes struggles with this himself, but he’s relieved he doesn’t have to worry about these shortcomings when it comes to you. Talking with you just comes naturally.

While his verbal communication can use some work, Neville is one of the best listeners to have on-hand when it comes to any problems that arise in your life. Someone’s pushing you to your limit? Neville has all the patience in the world to let you rant so you don’t have to bottle up your feelings. Need to talk through solutions to personal issues? He’ll give you his undivided attention while you work your way around to an answer, providing feedback if you ask for it. Feel the need to ramble? Neville will not only listen, but he’ll actually take a genuine interest in whatever it is you’re talking about.

While he otherwise second-guesses all his decisions, Neville surprisingly really enjoys venturing on unplanned, impulsive adventures with you. A favorite for the both of you is exploring areas on the grounds or in nature. You’re usually the one to charge ahead, excitedly talking while Neville hangs back a few steps. He takes in his surroundings, sure, but mostly he’s just watching you and simply feeling happy from the joy you radiate.

Speaking of things you love to do together, gardening is near the top of the list! One of Neville’s deepest passions is botany, and he doesn’t share his knowledge with just anyone. Seeing you take a true interest in your shared garden gives him all the warmest, fuzziest feelings imaginable.

Overall, you’re the one to bring Neville out of his shell, and he’s the one who takes time to listen to you. You bring out the best in each other, and your unbreakable bond makes the two of you fiercely loyal until the end.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LUNA LOVEGOOD, Nymphadora Tonks, Molly Weasley

In the Marauders era, I romantically pair you with…

REMUS LUPIN

You want to talk about one of the most understanding and patient individuals out there? It’s this one.

While Remus isn’t always keen on discussing his own emotions, he is very astute when it comes to sensing the well-being of others. Whether you’re burnt out, overwhelmed, on the verge of a breakdown or something bad just happened to happen to you that day, he knows.

Having people like James and Sirius as friends has taught him both how to tune in to the ramblings of a hyper person as well as how to utilize selective hearing. Remus realizes that he never wants to use that second skill with you. Unlike his friends (who he loves very much, mind you) he wants to take in everything you tell him.

It’s this active listening that makes Remus an excellent gift giver. A majority of the things he gives you are from offhand comments that you don’t think twice about making in the moment.

One of Remus’s absolute favorite things about you is the way your eyes light up when you talk about something you’re passionate about. He finds this trait so endearing, and it’s an easy way to make him smile.

Caring for you when your thoughts are traveling especially fast becomes second nature to Remus. Whenever he knows that he’ll see you, he always has at least one outlet (pen/paper, alcohol marker, etc.) for you. He’s also more than fine with you drawing something on his hand if you’d like -- he loves watching you work and he also gets to walk away with something that can remind him of you!

Remus also excels in history, reading, and writing, so I can definitely see many conversations between you two that revolve around these subjects. Also, after both of you complete your own essays, I believe proofreading and/or discussing each other’s work would become a habit of yours.

Overall, the shared ability to read and interpret emotions as well as the simple wish to care for one another draw you two together to form the sweetest couple around!

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

LILY EVANS

--Marvel Cinematic Universe--

I romantically pair you with…

PIETRO MAXIMOFF

Pietro was first drawn to how easily you can hold a conversation. He recognized immediately how easy it was to joke around with you once you warmed up (which didn’t take long -- Pietro’s somewhat gifted with the power of easy conversation himself). You both felt comfortable around each other relatively quickly.

Yes, Pietro’s known for his impossibly quick movements, but no one stops to think that this requires impossibly quick thinking. While Pietro has had some time to grab somewhat of a hold on his abilities, he still struggles with thoughts that just move too fast for him. You show him some of your tactics for dealing with this, and it literally changes his life.

Up until that point, your interactions had been mostly fun and rather lighthearted. But helping Pietro in such a thoughtful way and relating to him on a level that no one usually can made him see you in a different life. That’s how he knew he loved you.

This can be a chaotic relationship at times to say the least.

Many of your conversations can hardly be followed because you often build off of each other’s energy. While your quick minds are often on the same page, a third person might not be able to keep up.

Pietro does NOT hesitate when it comes to standing up for you. As soon as he learned about your people-pleasing habit, he took it upon himself to be on guard for anyone who could possibly take advantage of you. While you may find it hard to say no, Pietro has no problem stepping in and telling someone to back off.

You might feel as if he goes a little overboard with this sometimes, telling him that it “wasn’t right to be mean to that person.” He’ll just glance at you, shake his head and start up a lecture (albeit not a harsh one -- he really does care about you!) about asserting personal boundaries.

Pietro and his ego LOVE compliments, so you can expect a welcome reaction to each one you give him.

He’s also a big fan of going on spontaneous trips, discovering different parts of the world side by side.

But he’ll also settle for getting to hold you while you two talk about your day.

Overall, Pietro has no problem matching your energy, and you both want nothing more than to discover the adventures life has to offer together.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

VISION, Thor, Tony Stark

--Hamilton--

I romantically pair you with…

JOHN LAURENS

John has a lot of respect for someone who manages to include everyone, so it’s no wonder you caught his eye.

First impressions already told him you were friendly and empathetic, but discovering the more energetic and spontaneous side of you? Yep, he was in love.

Both of you have always had a desire to help people, so being able to do that with someone who shares the same passion and energy feels special. You’re more than a couple; you’re a team.

Whenever John’s troubled by what’s going on in the world, it doesn’t take him long to turn to you. He’s one of the most stubborn people alive when it comes to admitting he needs help, but all he knows is that talking to you seems to relieve him of some of that load (please be patient with him!!).

Meanwhile, he knows you have your own ways of coping with racing thoughts so he feels comfortable giving you space when you need it. If what you need is a person to listen, however, he’s there in a heartbeat.

Serious topics aside, you two just know how to have fun! Between your friendly personalities that naturally draw others in and your impulsive natures that (most of the time) lead you to exciting experiences, you make so many mutual friends! Sharing a group of close friends -- surprise, surprise -- brings you and John even closer.

Overall, you and John can always be found by each other’s side when facing whatever comes your way, good or bad.

As a friend, I think you’d best be matched with…

PHILIP HAMILTON, Marquis de Lafayette, Peggy Schuyler

[skybiome]

And when the sun comes up, you’ll find a brand new god.

Chapter 3

Beginning | Previous | Next

ao3

tw: mild unreality

Techno woke up face down on a forest floor. He rolled over, and was faced with the tallest trees he’d ever seen. A navy sky fought through the foliage as the sun sat low on the horizon, casting massive shadows across the needle and leaf coated floor.

The patch of ground Techno had landed on was swept clean of organic material, leaving bare dirt. On one side of the clearing was a stone statue of a person. Opposite the statue was a footpath that wound around the trees and disappeared into the distance. Techno got to his feet and approached the monument

It should have been a life size monument of a person standing on a small pedestal, sword drawn and held out in front of them with a pair of wings spread behind him. Instead, the arm had broken off and fallen to the dirt floor. The wings had likewise broken off near their bases, and foliage had grown over the broken limbs.

Time had worn the statue’s face smooth, and removed several of the letters from the plaque on the bottom pedestal. The first part of the starting word was the most damaged, but the rest of the script was fairly legible.

 It read, “----ZA, GOD OF SURVIVAL AND SOLITUDE. PATRON OF CHILDREN AND THE HURT. PROTECTOR OF THIS FOREST AND THE ONES IN IT.”

 If he focused, a script running along the blade of the fallen sword read “Justice”. It’s name most likely.

 Even severely worn down, the statue seemed content in its current state. If this really was a land blessed by a deity, Techno doubted they would have let age damage an image of them so. This whole area would have been created by Wilbur, but the monster hunter wouldn’t put it past him to get a few other gods involved. The deities of the land were well acquainted with one another.

 The sun had risen slightly. Techno’s blood dyed clothes shimmered in the growing daylight. Turning away from the statue, he started down the trodden path. After spending days on end wandering circles around a stone labyrinth, Techno was surprised to reach civilization after only an hour’s walk.

 A small village was set up surrounding a central well. There was no movement in the windows, but the location seemed lived in. Gardens were well kept and wheel tracks were freshly made in the dew dampened dirt. But this was just all a setting made by Wilbur. Simulating a fully functioning town would be difficult and time consuming, even for a god.

 Letting that train of thought fizzle out, Techno gravitated towards the only building in the central plaza with light on inside. A sign outside the building declared it the Core Inn. Opening the door revealed a room full of tables that should be brimming with patrons. Instead, the only moving figure was polishing some glasses behind.

 Blond with stubble and a green and white bucket hat. He looked kind enough. His most eye catching features were the massive black wings on his back, though.

 At the sound of the doors, he looked up. The bartender didn’t look very surprised at the sign of someone wearing gold stained clothes stumbling in. Instead, he just waved Techno towards the bar top.

 Techno sat down at the bar, and was incredibly relieved when the man turned around before speaking. He didn’t have the energy for a face to face conversation right now.

 “What brings you to my little town?”

 Techno set his head down on the wooden tabletop. “Can we please not do this, right now?” He knew he was filthy, but he was so tired of being awake.

 There was a pause before the man let out a questioning, “Alright?” After a moment, he continued with, “What do you want to do then?”

 The monster hunter groaned. “I just want a bed. I don’t have money, but I can pay you back with work.”

 His bag of money had gotten torn off during the fight with the gryphon. Techno didn’t need sleep, but he wanted nothing more than to stop thinking for a few hours. Wandering through a maze for weeks was far from the most stimulating things, and the contrast from blank stone walls to the wind blowing through a forest was overwhelming.

 “Okay, I can probably find something for you to do around here. Come on, then-” he parsed that sentence by softly knocking on the table by Techno’s head “-follow me.”

 Techno took a moment, but slid off the stool. The man led him down a hall lined with doors to various rooms. Pulling a keyring off his belt, he unlocked the door and held it open. Techno walked right past him and was asleep before he even hit the bed surface.

---

 When he woke up, starlight was struggling to fight through the canopy of the forest outside his window. . The monster hunter tried to bury himself in the blankets of the bed and disappear for a few more precious hours, but his eternally healing body would only let him sleep for so long.

 Techno hadn’t slept indoors in years. It was cheaper to sleep outdoors, and it involved less human interaction. A win for everyone involved, in his expert opinion. His gold stained boots moved silently over the finished wooden floor.

 Walking around the corner, he was faced with an even emptier tavern setting than the day before. Even the bartender was gone. The lamps on the walls were still lit, though. A note sat on the end of the bar, facing towards the hall Techno emerged from.

 It read, “Gone out to do something. There’s a bath drawn up in the room behind the kitchen with clean clothes. You look like you could use it.”

 The gore coated man set the note face down on the bartop, and went to see what was beyond the kitchen. True to the note’s promise, a large tub full of water sat in the room, along with soap, towels, and fresh clothes. He locked the sliding bolts on both doors and stripped out of his tattered clothes.

 He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a proper bath. The closest he’d gotten was walking in the rain, or getting thrown into a river or lake by a monster. The water of the bath was even pleasantly warm. Techno certainly took his sweet time, washing himself and the blood out of his hair. If he could, he would have fallen back asleep in the warmth of the water.

 But eventually, Techno pulled himself out of the tub and toweled off. He dried his hair the best he could. It was already down to his lower back, and he’d need to cut it soon. Techno glanced over at his sheath, which had moved itself out of his pile of discarding clothing, and was now leaning against the side of the tub.

 The man’s expression fell at the physical reminder of his curse, and decided against cutting it right now. The hair was one of the few aspects of his affliction he didn’t mind. Techno liked having his hair long, but it often got in his way and was a lot to take care of. He could cut it when he left the small town.

 Right now, he let it hang loose and put on the clothes provided to him.  A plain white shirt and black pants that were nearly identical to the ones he’d been wearing before, along with a deep green cloak. Green wasn’t normally his color, but it would do until it changed. He pulled on the boots, and walked back out into the kitchen.

 Despite it still being dark outside, the bartender had returned, and was reading a book on the other side of the counter top. A glance at the back of the bar revealed very little. Only about 3 glasses and a singular, unopened bottle of wine met Techno’s vision. Whenever Wilbur had created this place, he’d done a very poor job of detailing it.

 While the monster hunter had been silently judging the deity’s decorative abilities, the winged bartender had closed his book. Techno looked up at the man. He took that as his cue to speak.

 “My name’s Phil. It’s nice to meet you.”

 Techno nodded and simply offered, “Technoblade.”

 Phil didn’t seem discouraged by his curt reply. Instead the winged man pushed himself off the bar stool and walked around to the back of the bar. Taking the hint, Techno moved back to the front and sat down on a stool.

 “Do you want something to eat?” The bartender was facing away from Techno, resting his hand against the door to the kitchen.

 The monster hunter hummed for a moment, before answering with, “sure.”

 The feathered man nodded, and entered the back room, leaving Techno alone in the mainroom of the inn. About 30 seconds later, Phil re-emerged with a plate full of steaming hot food.

 That shouldn’t have been possible. Techno had been in that kitchen not even 30 seconds ago, and none of the appliances were lit. Wilbur wouldn’t have been able to change something that small that fast. Deity rarely worked on microscale unless they were there physically. Phil would’ve had to have made it.

 But that was neither here nor there. Right now, Techno’s attention was fully focused on the meal in front of him. He may not need to eat, but he hadn’t eaten in months and the food in front of him smelled really good.

 Phil chuckled as Techno dug in. Techno ignored him. The meal was just a potato with salt and butter, and some carrots and peas on the side, but it tasted like heaven. If he had been a normal man, he definitely would have burnt his mouth.

 In ten minutes flat, Techno had cleared the plate. The bartender whisked the plate away and set a glass of water in front of the man. That disappeared just as quickly.

 Phil set that back in the kitchen as well. Techno bet that if he went back there, there wouldn’t be a plate or glass in sight. Instead, he just ran a hand through his hair, and looked to the winged man.

 “What can I do to repay my debt?” Techno wanted to get out of this town as fast as possible.

 Phil thought for a moment, and answered with, “Go strip down your bed, and wash it in the creek behind the building. There’s a washboard against the outside wall. I’ll clean up the bath.”

 The monster hunter tilted his head, “Should we wait until day?”

 The winged man had already walked into the kitchen, but Techno heard him shout, “It is day!,” through the walls.

 A glance out the windows revealed Phil to be right. The sun was up over the horizon, casting the same long shadows Techno had seen yesterday.

 The cursed man blinked. It had definitely been night time only a few minutes ago. Techno stood up, and shook off the lingering confusion. Once he got out of this weird town, things would stabilize. He just needed to finish working for Phil first.

 Walking back into his room, Techno began pulling the sheets off the bed. Most of the blankets were still neatly folded and tucked away under the bed frame, so he only had to clean the stuff that directly on top that he’d slept on.

 True to Phil’s word, a washboard and a bar of soap were sitting on top of a barrel outside the back of the inn. This town definitely wasn’t real. Someone would have stolen the washboard if anyone else lived here.

 But he wasn’t here to question the world building of Wilbur's domain. Instead, he stripped off his boots and socks, folded his new cloak, and left them in the grass away from the running water. The crick bed was entirely stones and pepp. The water ran clear and Techno could see the bottom. So he got to work scrubbing the mud and sweat out of the bedsheet.

 That’s where Phil found him, ten minutes later. Saying nothing, the winged man took off his shoes and socks and joined Techno in the water. The stream was about ten feet across, and sluggishly winding through the forest side, so Phil could sit on the far bank and dip his feet in the water without disturbing the other man’s work.

       A comfortable silence sat over the two as the monster hunter noticed another odd thing about the forest. There were no birds singing or insects chirping. The only noises came from the river babbling and Techno rubbing the filth out of the fabric. Just one more thing to add to the inaccuracies of this domain.

 After a few more minutes of scrubbing, Techno gathered up the material in his arms and waded to the center of the brook to rinse it out. Once all the loose dirt was washed away, he bundled the material up and looked towards Phil.

 “Where do you want me to put this?”

 The winged man pushed himself to his feet, and took the sheet from the monster hunter’s grip. “I’ll hang it on the line.” He turned and walked out of the river, towards a clothesline hung between the side of the inn and a nearby tree that definitely had been there before Phil had turned around.

 That was a bit much, even for Techno’s suspension of disbelief. He’d have to confront the winged man about it later. Right now he turned back to cleaning the other sheet. The fact that he was hanging out with an all powerful deity was future Techno’s problem. Right now, he had to get out of debt of the all powerful deity in question.

 Techno’s attention was split between washing the material in his hand, and watching Phil wrestle the fabric up and over the clothes line. He was doing it fairly well, but the cursed man was more enraptured with how Phil’s wings moved along with him.

 The deity’s attention was solely focused on manipulating the sheet, and Techno was fascinated as the man out precariously leaned one way, only for his opposite wing to extend and counterbalance him. Originally the wings looked almost pure black, but they seemed to reflect a deep purple color in the daylight.

 Phil finished securing the fabric and turned to face Techno. The monster hunter averted his gaze, turning back to the washboard in his hand. In a few more minutes, the other sheet was cleaned, rinsed, and handed off to Phil again.

 Techno waded out of the river, and futilely tried to shake the water out of his shirt sleeves. The front of his shirt and pants were soaked, along with the ends of his hair. Ringing as much water out of his hair, he gathered up his shoes and cloak. He’d leave them off until the rest of his clothes dried out.

 Leaving Phil to continue wrestling the damp cloth, Techno wandered back inside the building. He sat back down at the bar and continued running his hands through his long hair, trying to get as many tangles out as possible. The monster hunter barely noticed when Phil entered the inn.

 Most of his focus stayed on playing with his own hair, but a small portion did stay locked on the winged man, as he walked into the kitchen and out of Techno’s sight.

 A couple minutes later, he re-emerged with two bowls in hand. One was set in front of the Techno, and the other he sat down with beside Techno. Phil immediately dug in.

 The cursed man took a moment to look at the stew, before doing the same. Rabbit with some root vegetables and a few spices that Techno couldn’t name. Phil certainly hadn’t cooked it by hand, but it was still very good. Before he knew it, his bowl was empty and he was tipping it up to drink the last of the precious liquid.

 A small chuckle from Phil grabbed his attention. Techno wiped at his mouth, and turned to look at the bartender.

 Phil lifted his bowl to his mouth and mimicked Techno. He was a little over enthusiastic in his attempt, because some poured over the edge and down his front. A laugh escaped from the monster hunter. Undeterred, the winged man finished off the bowl.

  The bartender wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and gathered both of their bowls. He stuck his head into the kitchen and deposited them  somewhere behind the door. When he turned around, the stains had already disappeared from his shirt.

 Phil brushed his hands together, as if he had just finished an arduous task. “You can probably go to bed if you want, all the chores are done for today.”

 Techno tilted his head to the side and gave him an odd look. “All we did today was laundry.”

 Phil shrugged. His winged flexed and moved along with the motion. “It’s dark outside already. I’m not going to make you work at night.” He gestured towards one of the windows on the side of the room.

 Techno’s vision followed his motion. True to Phil’s word, night time had already fallen outside. The monster hunter turned back around to the sound of something shuffling.

 The noise was Phil stretching and his wings moving in tandem with his arms. The extra limbs didn’t extend outward and knock over the displayed alcohol bottles. Instead they reached upwards and the primary feathers almost tapped the rafters in the ceiling. After a moment, the wings folded back up neatly behind Phil’s back.

 He rubbed at his eyes and said with a yawn, “I’m gonna to head to bed. You should probably do the same.” With that, the bartender turned his back on Techno and walked down the hall that led to the bedrooms.

 A door opened and closed out of Techno’s sight. After a moment, the cursed man re-gathered his clothes and ventured down the hall. Turning the knob to the room he’d slept in last night, pushed the door open. The bed was perfectly made with new sheets, even though Phil had been back in the room. There was a new chain lock on the door that the cursed man made use of.

 If Phil was a god, a simple piece of metal wouldn’t stop him, but it was still a nice thought on his part. The winged man had been nothing but hospitable, and Techno was going to take full advantage of that. Setting his cloak and shoes on a bedside table, Techno pulled a blanket out from under the bed frame.

 Oh, and the clothes he was currently wearing were entirely dry, when they’d been wet only minutes before. Weirder things had happened today.

 He smoothed the blanket over the bedspread and crawled underneath. He’d spend a few more days in town, and then continue to wherever Wilbur wanted him to go. Either way, it would keep him from destroying more of the real world. Trouble always followed him, so it was nice to not have to worry about the destruction he always left in his wake.

[finaledenialist]

Ok, so basically I haven’t written anything coherent in years. YEARS. I am not a writer guys. But something in me just snapped. And I kind of wanted to write something since 12x23, but never managed to. So anyway. Here it is. I have nothing in my defence. warnings: angst angst angst lots of angst; post 15x18; more angst; cas is dead; dean is sad; occasional Bad Word™, happy ending though, 2.8k words

*

This wasn't the first time Cas died, obviously.    Although it was the second time it felt truly permanent. Dean didn’t want to, but he remembered it all. Three years ago he was kneeling next to Cas' dead body, watching helplessly as the first raindrops started to wash away the trace of burnt wings on the ground. He couldn't believe what just happened, what he just saw. He doesn't quite recall how long he was kneeling there, but by the time he snapped out of this overwhelming feeling of disbelief, shock and helplessness, he was soaking wet. He remembers clearly as he looked at Cas' vessel, Cas’ body, laying in the mud and thought that no, not like this, he has to get Cas somewhere, anywhere from the dirty ground. Still in complete shock, he managed to grab Castiel's body and slowly lift him up. The trenchcoat was wet and dirty and smelled awfully, and Dean was barely able to get up and stand on his own two feet. His vision was blurry, and one thing he was sure of, it wasn't because of the rain. It was hardly the first time he ever had to move a dead body. It was always awful and generally hard to do. Moving an inert body took a lot of physical strength, and Dean was no stranger to it. Holding Cas though... This was some whole other level. 

The ground was slippery and boggy and Dean was trying to focus on every step because the other option was falling down and that meant Cas would once again end up in the mud and this was just too much. One step, two steps, three; towards the house. The sound of torrential rain was deafening but it was a good thing, at least Dean didn't have to listen to his own thoughts.  The scene of angel blade ripping through Cas right in front of him started replaying itself over and over and over again; Cas' blue eyes, looking directly at him, suddenly became full of light, and in the next second the blue, celestial light was everywhere, and it was bright and blinding, and Dean's eyes were burning but his whole body was paralyzed and he couldn't stop staring at the one thing he hoped he would never have to witness ever again.

And all of a sudden the darkness fell, almost darker than it was just moments before, and Cas was no longer looking at him; his eyes were empty and his body was sinking to the ground as Lucifer slowly pulled out the blade, smiling like Dean's world didn't just excruciatingly fell apart. Dean felt like he was experiencing everything in some kind of a sick slow motion. He knew his feet slipped on the mud, he knew he was falling, he knew his knees hit the ground but at the same time he felt like he was merely a powerless observer, who couldn't react. 'Dean', he heard from the distance, 'Dean!' Sam's voice slowly started to drag him back to reality. The reality he didn't want to be in. 'Dean!'    He blinked a few times, and there he was, again, in the dirt, on his knees, desperately clutching to Cas' body like it was his last lifeline. Dean glimpsed at Castiel's face, and by God, it was a mistake. He quickly looked up to Sam. 'Dean, the nephilim...', Sam cut off the moment he saw Dean's red, swollen, unseeing eyes, 'Oh my God...' Dean was still staring at him blankly. After a moment he exhaled, looked around and tried to get up without a word, still holding onto Cas. Everything was dirty and slippery, and ugly, and dark, and wet, and cold, but Dean had to stand up, he had to carry Cas inside, it was so cold... He didn't even feel Sam's arms helping him get up. He didn't feel anything. He was awake and unconscious at the same time. He was like a moth, instinctively drawn to the house lights.

*

He spent the night in the room with Cas' body. He recalls Sam trying to talk to him, but he just grabbed the first bottle that he found, chugged it down and passed out on the floor. It wasn't like he wanted to die, but at that moment he didn't want to be alive either. But now. Now was different. No, in a way it was the same. But at the same time it was different. By some unimaginable way this time was worse. Much worse. He always thought that it was impossible for something to be worse than what happened the night Jack was born. Castiel's death three years ago was shocking, unexpected, sudden and fast. This time? Oh, fuck. He was completely devoid of emotions and drowning in them at the same time. He felt absolutely nothing and everything all at once. What just happened has left him completely frozen and paralyzed. His body and his mind were actively refusing to process what he just saw.

And what he just heard.

He was just staring blankly around him, like he was looking for an answer, an explanation, written on the bunker's wall. His phone was buzzing, but he barely gave it a thought. The whole world might as well just end and disappear for all he cared; his own world was just taken away from him seconds ago (or was it hours?), so why, why should he give a damn if the planet kept on turning or not? And there he was, a sobbing mess once again, because he just lost. Again. At this point he should be used to losing, to loss, honestly. And yet this time it hit him harder than ever before. I love you. Goodbye, Dean, echoed in his head over and over again like a mantra, like a curse. Cas' eyes, more blue than ever, looking straight into his own. I love you, goodbye, Dean. I love you, goodbye, Dean, I love you, I love you, I love you. ‘I love you, too, Cas’, he whispered, with his face buried in his hands. I love you, too.

*

'Ready?', Sam's voice was uncertain and a little shaky. What they were about to do was risky and probably stupid as fuck, but— 'Sure', Dean lied. What if it doesn't work, what if something goes wrong, what if he won't find Cas, what if he won't bring him back, what if he comes back without him, what if everything goes terribly wrong... 'Ready when you are.'

It's been some time since they got rid of Chuck. It included Amara and Michael and all the strength they could find. To be quite honest, all the events just mashed up into one big cloudy memory for Dean. He felt like he was existing on autopilot all this time. Bottom line though, they got rid of the omnipotent bastard, got back all the people who disappeared... Well, almost all. But again, Cas wasn't 'people'. With all the help they could get, they finally crafted a spell to open up a portal to the Empty. Fine, not they, it was mostly Sam, Jack, Charlie and Eileen combining forces to read through all Rowena's spells and grimoires. Dean, on the other hand, spent most of his time locked in his room, not daring to hope.

And not being able to look at Jack. It was impossible but somehow happened anyway. The kid looked like a younger version of Cas, minus the hair. Every time he glimpsed at him, he felt his heart breaking yet again. And it was not just the looks. The last time Cas died was the night Jack was born. Dean looked at him and couldn't help it - the sight of Cas' dead body on the ground was always there. The burnt wings. And then, the Empty taking Cas. All these memories just rushed over him like a tsunami every time he looked at Jack. It was unbearable.

'I can't do this, Sam', he said one day to his brother, 'I just can't. I can't even think about this. If this thing... If this... Whatever you all are doing... If this eventually doesn't work out, I am not sure I am going to be able to survive this. So I just... I just can't help you with this'. Sam only nodded in agreement, desperate to get Dean out of his room, but at the same time understanding that if they don't find a way to open up the portal to the Empty, then all he was doing was giving Dean false hope.

And they already had Dean on suicide watch.

So, each day they buried themselves in the books, spells and lore, working as hard as they could to find anything that could help. Occasionally they caught a glimpse of Dean's shadow on his way to the kitchen or bathroom. Sometimes Dean even stood in the library's door for a minute or two, stared at them with a bottle is his hand, like he was anticipating. All they could give him was a reassuring smile. At the beginning they tried hugs, but Dean never let them touch him. It was like every touch hurt him. Little did they know, everything hurt.

After some time, they finally got a breakthrough. At the beginning they didn't tell Dean, but things finally started working out and the spell was ready in no time. Jack and Charlie were just high-five'ing each other, and they were all about to discuss who is going to get through the portal, when Dean appeared in the door. 'What is happening?', he asked quietly, and suddenly there was absolute silence. Everyone looked at Sam. 'I...', he finally grunted, 'I am not sure if you want to hear this'. 'Try me.' Sam took a deep breath. 'We... We found a way to open a portal to the Empty.' Dean blinked and then closed his eyes. 'Are you sure?' Everyone looked at each other, not daring to say a word. 'Yes, Dean', Sam finally said, 'We are sure.' 'Where is it', Dean whispered. 'Where's what?' 'Where's the portal', Dean said again, through his teeth, eyes still closed. 'We... We haven't opened it yet. We we just about to—' 'Do it. Now', Dean's eyes were now piercing through Sam. 'Dean—' 'Now.'

And here they were now, in front of an opened portal to nothingness. Dean's eyes were completely focused on the darkness. 'Dean... Remember. It stays open for an hour', Sam said, unsure if Dean was even listening to him. But Dean was, in fact, listening, the thing though? He couldn't care less. If he gets stuck, he gets stuck and stays there. It didn't matter. His life lately wasn't much different from what he was seeing right now in front of him. 'Yeah, sure', he muttered, and stepped inside.

*

It was... Dark. Not like Amara-dark. It was just all black. It was nothing. No right, no left, no up, no down. He was standing and floating at the same time and the feeling was... Honestly? It was liberating. He looked around but all he saw was, ironically, nothing. The silence was actually calming, though. He wouldn't mind staying. After all, one thing he was sure of — Cas was there, somewhere. Cas. The thought made his heart beat faster. Blood was pumping through his veins and he was suddenly starting to feel again. He blinked and tried to focus, steadying his breath. Cas. Cas was there somewhere. Well, this whole thing is at least worth a try. If he doesn't find him, he will simply stay here. An hour, Sam said. Dean looked at his watch, confused. 50 minutes left, he estimated and looked around.    But there was still nothing to be seen. 'Cas?!' he yelled in a raspy voice, 'Cas?!' His voice, his breath and his hands were shaking. 'Cas?!' he cried out once again. And again. And again. And again, and again, and again. He didn't know when he started to run around, more and more desperately, but it was dark, it was so dark and his voice was completely scratched from yelling, and it was cold, and there was no Cas, and he was all alone and— 'Castiel?!', Dean called as loud as he could, feeling the tears in the corner of his eyes, because damn it, when and why did he let himself believe that he can find Cas in this emptiness? At this point his whole body was shaking, and he heard a quiet sob escaping his mouth. But he also heard something else. At first he thought he made that rustle, somehow. But then he heard it again, and this time he didn't even move a single muscle. He didn’t even dare to breathe. He exhaled, very, very slowly. And even slower, he turned around. And then he saw it. A figure surrounded by light composed of every colour he ever saw. He had to squint his eyes; the light, albeit beautiful, was blinding. And he could swear he saw it before. Because he did. It was the last thing he saw before waking up in a coffin, what seemed like forever ago. It took him a second to recognize it, but once he did, the feeling of familiarity and safety surrounded him completely and all he could do was stare at the figure getting closer, and closer, and then all those feelings were replaced with just one — the long anticipated feeling of relief. 'Cas', he mouthed almost without a sound, scared to close his eyes, too afraid that the light and the figure were merely an illusion, about to disappear. But after he blinked, it was all still there. And it was Cas, his Cas; the dumb, self-sacrificing idiot whose absence made Dean's life completely numb and pointless and unlivable. He wanted to run to him, to wrap his arms around him and never let go. He was shaking more than ever, but somehow managed to take a first step towards the light, and then the next one, and the next one, and one more. Oh, God. Cas looked awful. Absolutely terribly. Like he has woken up in a middle of the worst nightmare. He looked confused and scared; no, he looked absolutely terrified. His eyes were unfocused and his steps unsure. And then he saw Dean. He stopped walking, and his eyes widened. His mouth opened in disbelief. He looked petrified. 'What...', he whispered fearfully, 'How...' 'Cas', Dean's voice broke, 'I'm here' 'You're not supposed to be in here' Castiel said, now completely frightened, looking straight into Dean's eyes. After a moment he started to frantically look around. 'Look, I don't know how, or why...' 'What?!', Dean cut him off, blinking away the tears, 'Why?! Why as in why I'm here?! Are you serious...' 'Dean', Cas didn't let him finish, 'Are you even real?' he added quietly and softly. Dean felt blood rushing to his head; he suddenly was in a fight mode once again, starting to feel everything all at once - the anger, the fear, the pain; like after weeks of being numb his mind decided to unleash every emotion a human being can possibly feel. No. Not now, Dean thought, Now focus. Focus, he told himself but his eyes were feasting on the sight of Cas, his Cas, like he was a blind man who suddenly was able to see for the first time in his life.  'Cas. Cas, we have to go. We have to go', he said, desperately 'I— I don't know how much time we have left, I—', I don't even know now where is the fucking portal, he thought. 'We need to go', he said instead with a broken voice. 'Dean, I—' But Dean had enough. He reached for Cas' arm, grabbed it and started walking. Towards the portal, hopefully. 'Dean—', Castiel’s voice was very weak, 'Dean. Dean!' 'What now?', Dean finally stopped to look at Cas. He looked like he was just chewed up and spat out by a cow, but once Dean’s eyes landed on him, he just couldn’t stop looking. Man, I thought I’m never going to see you again, he thought and exhaled. 'We really gotta go, Cas’. But Castiel was staring at him like he just received a revelation, like a man lost in the desert who saw an oasis after days of being burned by the sun and deprived of water, like— 'What if it doesn't work?' Cas said quietly and closed his eyes. When he opened them, they were full of tears. No. Not again, Dean thought. 'Cas. Cas, look. Cas, look at me', he cupped his face, so he could stare directly into Cas’ eyes. 'We had that conversation, remember? In purgatory. And that conversation is over', he said, maybe a little bit too harshly. 'Although there is another one that is not over. Far from over, actually', he added more softly. Cas was looking at him, anticipating. 'Dean, I... What I said...' 'I heard what you said. And now we need to go. Understand?' 'Yes', Cas said after a while, 'I understand.’

[friendly-neighborhood-study-pal]

Term Reflection ✨☁️

At the end of each term, I answer a few questions in my journal to reflect on the term: how I did, how I can improve, and what steps I should take. I’m going to share the questions and my answers for the last term under the cut!

1. What did you do well? 💡

I balanced five very difficult classes that had deadlines on top of each other at the end of the term, as well as worked a part-time job and participated in extracurricular activities. I really did an excellent job managing my time this term.

2. What did you do poorly? ❌

I was overly stressed about school. Once I submit something, I really have to commit to knowing that there is nothing more that I can do. I’ve already submitted my work, so there’s no point in worrying so much.

3. Why do you think those things went poorly? 💬

I'm just hard on myself.

4. What is your priority for next term? 🤓

Be more kind to myself. I would extend kindness and understanding to anyone in my situation, so I should treat myself with the same grace.

5. What will you try to work on next term? 📝

I’m going to be kinder to myself. I’ll also be submitting a grant and will submit my research abstract to be considered for a conference. Also, let’s maintain that 4.0. GPA baby!

6. How will you try to achieve these new goals and break bad habits? 😌

Be kinder to myself - I’m going to schedule in breaks and let myself relax if I need to, even if the class load seems overwhelming. I will continue to stay on top of my classes but I will take mental health days when I need to and will commit to getting 7-8 hours of sleep a night. This is my most important goal: life is so difficult right now, so I ought to be kinder to everyone, and that includes myself.

Grant submission - I want to submit it by the end of January, so I will spend the next week finalizing the budget and the following two weeks editing and refining it so I have the best chance of being awarded the grant.

Research abstract - This is a long-term goal, but I’m going to meet with my advisor next week to outline what I need to do to get this done. So, more on this later!

Maintain a 4.0. - I need to stay organized, continue to ask questions and ask for help when I need it, and not procrastinate. That’s all very doable and I expect myself to be able to achieve this goal with the right amount of work.

7. What was a high of this term? 🥳

On the same night I found out that I had been accepted into an independent research program starting in March AND that I had received funding for my project from the university. It was a very exciting night!

8. What was a low of this term? 😔

The end of the term is, as always, rough. However, I feel like I felt particularly burnt out at the end of this term. It was hard for me to even get out of bed. This is why being kind to myself throughout next term is a priority. I want to avoid this.

9. How did you grow this term? 🧠

I've become a more involved person. Even though I’m away from campus, I’ve become involved in two extracurriculars I was not previously involved in, and these extracurriculars have improved the quality of my life. It’s been so nice to have (remote) social events to look forward to!

Academically, I took multiple upper-division courses and did well. I'm excited about my curriculum for the rest of the academic year. I'm excited to continue learning.

10. What's one thing you're proud of that you did this term? 💕

I've maintained my 4.0. I've finished my STEM GE's. I’ve taken on leadership positions in my extracurricular activities. Those are admirable to me, and I’m proud of myself for achieving these things.

As an arts and humanities student, I’m so glad to be done with STEM. I’m so impressed with those of you who pursue it! But I am personally so excited to be done.

☁️✨ I hope this was helpful for you to read! Happy 2021 - may it treat us all with the kindness and gentleness we need - and good luck with your upcoming term! ✨☁️

[liliesoftherain]

My Hero Academia Main 3 Boys x Reader

Ch.12 Bakugou vs Uraraka

Masterlist

A/N: So this is pretty short, but it’s 2am and I just wanted to get something out! Next update is going to have reader vs tokoyami so get ready y’all! I hope you enjoy, and let me know if you want to be added to the taglist or if I forgot! Like I said, it’s 2am so I’m v tired huns;-; 

TAGLIST: @rizamendoza808 !(: @iris-suoh !(: @quicksilverfangirl​ !(: @shortperson202 !(: @noodlenerd101 !(: @matchamidoriya​ !(: @thorsbtch-captainnoobmaster69me​ !(: @pastel-prynce​ !(: @sunkissedneptune​ @monetfatalia​ !(: @legit-fandom-trash​ !(: @lovethewitchofendor​ !(: @dekuxlink​ !(: @water-melone98​ !(: @nothing17-7 !(: @hopelessdisasterr !(: @karmaboundlife​ !(: 

“Okay! Let’s see who we’ve got for you next! The sixth match showcases two completely redundant quirks! One is a passionate, manly fighter made of steel! The hero courses class 1-B, Tetsutetsu Tetsutetsu! Versus! A passionate, manly fighter made of rock! The hero courses 1-A, Eijiro Kirishima!”

“LET’S GO KIRISHIMA! SHOW THIS GUY WHO’S THE BETTER MAN!” You howled in praise to the boy below. 

Eijiro gave you a thumbs up from his place in the arena before getting into a fighting stance, running forward as the okay to start was given. You leaned back in your seat, turning to look at Izuku when you noticed the empty seat next to him.

“Is Ochaco getting ready for her match?” You asked him.

“O-oh, uh,” He looked startled, as if you were asking him an answer to a pop quiz, “I assume so. She’s been looking kind of down though.. I think she might be worried about having to fight Kaachan.”

“You think so?” You questioned, even though you did believe that was true. 

Even though she was putting on a brave face, you could picture her using it as a front to hide her true feelings. Although you wouldn’t know for sure unless you confronted her.

“It’s possible.. I was thinking of some strategies just now to have Uraraka to best utilize her quick to be able to have a chance to beat him!” He mumbled, flipping through the pages of his burnt notebook.

You could only nod aimlessly as he was whisper-mumbling his plan to you, unsure of when he’d stop. 

“Deku,” You cut him off, hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t we go talk to her? You can tell her all about your plan then and we can provide her some support.” 

Izuku blushed at the feeling of your warm hand on his, and while he would love nothing more than to do exactly that with you, he knew you were excited to see Kirishima’s match. While that thought made his heart heavy for some reason, he knew he wanted to be a good friend and make sure you weren’t going to do something you would regret.

“A-are you sure you want to go? I mean, you would miss Kirishima’s match..” His shoulders slumped.

“Yeah I’m sure,” You smiled, “Eijiro’s got this in the bag! But, even then I’m sure it’ll be awhile. I mean, look at them.” 

You motioned towards the two fighting boys and couldn’t help but laugh.

“They’re so evenly matched it’s scary! They might go on forever at this rate.”

“Well, only if you want to..”

“Of course I want to! I’d like to wish my friend good luck before she starts!” 

“R-right!”

The both of you got up and headed towards the second waiting room, walking in silence all the way.

Comfortable silences often reminded you of your home life. Your father, while very loving, was often not very talkative. It was short and sweet, straight to the point. Blunt almost, but in a good way. It was relaxing and you were glad you were able to share this with Izuku while you could.

Izuku, on the other hand, was feeling a little overwhelmed. Not be the fact you weren’t talking, no, more so at that fact your shoulder kept brushing his and he had no clue what to think. He was acting crazy, he knew, but you were a girl. 

A pretty girl. 

A pretty girl that has warm hands, and a cute smile, and a lovely laugh. A pretty girl who is crazy smart, and has a wild determination, and such strong quirk. A pretty girl with a scary dad as a top pro hero, and you didn’t let that get the better of you. You worked so hard and Izuku couldn’t help but admire you for it. That must be why he felt so nervous around you, yea you were a girl but you were also someone he looked up to. There couldn’t be more to it than that, right?

“Izuku?” You called out to the boy as he continued to walk even after you stopped by the door. 

He turned to face you with a shy smile, rubbing the back of his head.

“Whoops, I uh, was lost in thought!”

“You dork, this is the room right?” You questioned, pointing at the door in front, but not really asking for confirmation as you were already going to head inside.

“Yeah,” Izuku looked at the number and his heart stopped, “Oh wait-”

He was too late, you had already opened the door and walked in.

“Hey-Oh it’s you.” 

You looked at the person in the room and did a double take, mildly shocked. You weren’t expecting to see him here.

“What the hell are you doing here shitty girl?” Bakugou huffed at you, standing up from his stretches to glare as he didn’t appreciate the interruption. 

“Sorry, I thought this was waiting room 2, guess I was wrong!” You laughed, backing out.

“Tch, of course you were wrong dumb ass can’t you read!?” He yelled back.

You ignored his loud shouts as you walked through from where you entered, pausing to look back at him.

“Oh yeah, good luck out there!”

“ I don’t need any luck, I’m going to win dammit!”

“Yeah of course you will, shitty boy.” 

“WHAT THE HELL DID YOU JUST SAY!?” 

You closed the door with a snicker, looking at Izuku who was waiting awkwardly off towards the side.

“Sorry, did you want to say something to him too?” 

“N-no, Kaachan wouldn’t like at all.” Izuku sighed.

You grabbed the boys wrist and dragged him quickly along, hoping that you’d get there soon without any more delays.

“He’s a big baby, don’t worry about him. We need to hurry up and get to Ochaco!”

Izuku felt his face heat up at your gentle grip. It was funny, your hands were so soft yet still so rough. Most likely due to your quirk, having light wrap around your hands must not be all that great for keeping them smooth, but that didn’t bother him in the slightest. 

All he could do was nod dumbly as he let you pull him around, and couldn’t help but think he wouldn’t mind it if you were always pulling him around like this. Especially if your hand were to be in his instead-

He shook his head of all thoughts as you let go, stopping in front of the correct door this time and opening it. He spotted Uraraka at the table and Iida standing right next to her.

“Hey Ochaco.” you greeted, walking in and standing next to Iida. Who you also greeted once you saw him. 

Izuku followed you inside making sure to close the door behind you both and stood right next to you.

“Deku? (y/n)? Why aren’t you guys watching the matches?” Uraraka questioned, a surprised look on her face.

“Well Eijiro’s match is probably going to take a while.” You shrugged.

“And most of them ended how I expected them to, so we figured it was alright to not have to watch the whole thing.” Izuku added.

“We also wanted to wish you luck, how are you feeling?”

“Well this is it, I’m next,” She looked at the table as she squeezed her hands together, “my fight is up.”

“I think you’ll be fine! There is no way Bakugou would use the full power of his explosions on a girl.” 

You looked at Iida strangely.

“Why wouldn’t he? Everyone is the same to him, just another person getting in his way. Gender doesn’t matter.”

“She’s right, he definitely wouldn’t care. Everyone is trying to get the top, that includes him.” Izuku agreed with you, a serious look on his face.

“Plus, I accidentally saw him just now, and he looked determined as ever.”

Uraraka made a squeal and you put your hand atop hers.

“You’ll be great no matter what, there’s no need to worry.”

She gave you a look that seemed as if she was trying to smile, but it came out as more of a grimace. 

“Listen,” You gave her hand a light squeeze, “my dad told me something like this; the moments you feel this way, unsure or nervous, are the reasons why you have to go for it. You’ll win no matter what, whether you win the match or win the ability to grow and persevere. He said, ‘Let your fear turn into your driving factor, give yourself a reason to fight.’! Because no matter what, we’re all here for you, cheering you on!” You grinned at her, relieved when she smiled a true smile as well.

“You’re right-well, you’re dad’s right too! I know it, it’s just..” She sighed once more as she took her hands from under yours to twirl her fingers together.

“W-well maybe I can help!” Deku chimed in, holding his notebook up for the room to see, “I have a plan on how you can use your quirk to beat Kaachan. It’s not much, but it was the best I could come up with.”

“Hey! Well alright, this is perfect! There’s no way you can lose from a plan from Midoriya!” Iida gave a thumbs up, a dorky grin on his face.

It was almost unnerving to see such a smile, but you had to say it was a nice change.

“Thank you for doing that for me Deku, but no thanks, sorry.”

“Huh?” The boys, and you, made a noise of shock.

“You’re wonderful Deku.. I see that, over and over again. I know that during the cavalry battle I said it was good to team up with friends, but I might have just been relying on you too much. Which is why when the others said they were trying their best to beat you, I felt kind of embarrassed for myself..”

“Uraraka.” Deku whispered, unsure of what to do at such a confession.

You felt the same way, feeling awkward and a little bothered by the words she said, but you pushed it down and just moved out of the way as she strode past you all, heading towards the door.

“So it’s really fine you guys. Everyone is facing their future and giving this their best, that means we’re all rivals. Iida, (y/n).. Even you and me Deku. So, guess I’ll see you in the finals.”

She was shaking, and it wasn’t hard to spot the wavering and almost fake grin on her face. She was nervous, and she had every right to be, but as long as she was facing her challenges you couldn’t ask for anything more for her.

“While we’re waiting for Tetsutetsu and Kirishima to recover, why don’t we move on to the next match?”

“Well then good luck! You’ll win this for sure!” You grinned enthusiastically, hoping a bright smile would help. 

She only nodded back before leaving you three in the waiting room alone. You looked at the boys who shared a worried look with you.

“We shouldn’t worry, Ochaco is smart. She can handle whatever Bakugou throws at her.”

“Yes, we should believe in her capabilities in this situation.” Iida agreed, sighing out as he also followed the path out the door. 

“Well, we should get going back to the seats.” Izuku muttered.

The three of you went back to the stands, taking your seats in the front row once more as the two walked onto the arena.

“The 8th and final battle in the first round of matches! He’s kind of a hotshot, and just look at that determined face! From 1-A’s hero course, it’s Katsuki Bakugou! Versus! The underdog here, also from 1-A’s hero course, Ochaco Uraraka! Let the 8th match begin!”

The match was the most interesting fight you watched so far, the way they attacked each other at full force was a sight no one wanted to miss. You always new Bakugou was a skilled fighter, he always has been. But Uraraka wasn’t backing down. She ran head first for him, sort of following the plan Izuku had thought of even if she hadn’t heard it herself. But as soon as she went to touch her, he blasted her back.

The rest of the match didn’t let up on the excitement, there were plenty of moments were it looked like Ochaco was going to get the upper hand and come out on top, Bakugou’s relentless attacks didn’t allow it. However, the crowd began to boo him for it, and you felt yourself grow angry. Didn’t they see what was going on? Couldn’t they tell he wasn’t fooling around, that he was proving he saw her as an actual threat? 

Also, couldn’t they see what was floating right over their heads?

“The crowd is booing Bakugou!”

“Who was the man that started this uproar? Are you a pro? Because if you’re being serious, you can go home and hang up that cape. I’d suggest looking for a different career.”

“Anyone know what he’s talking about?” Izuku asked.

“Are you kidding me?” You questioned in disbelief, “Do you not see it either? Bakugou isn’t being rough to toy with her, he’s acknowledging Ochaco. Plus, look up idiots.”

“Bakugou’s fierceness is an acknowledgement of his opponents strength. He knows that she is deserving of getting this far. So, he’s doing whatever it takes to keep her at bay and make it out on top.”

The boys did as you said and gasped at the sight of the cement floating above, what seemed to be hundreds of them. She quickly released them and as soon as she did, Bakugou aimed for the sky and blew them away. The blast was so large you felt the pressured air from it, making your hair blow behind you harshly. 

“Bakugou shows a huge demonstration of power! He blasted Uraraka’s finishing move away and remains unscratched!” 

You saw how she froze in mid turn, falling down from the exhaustion. You felt bad, knowing how upset she would be. But you were proud of her nonetheless. She fought well and she shouldn’t be ashamed of it.

“She’s reached her limit.”

“Yeah, it was too much.”

“Uraraka is K.O’d. Bakugou advances to the second round.” Midnight announced, after walking to check on her.

“And that’s it for the first rounds! We’re taking a quick break then we are back for more matches!”