#but i need to focus my negative energy somewhere so yeah

[heinzpilsner]

Okay, another part of 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' series here! And I want to assure you that even though it looks deceptively like 'Roasting beach Mai' series to the unaided eye, it's actually not the case. The differences are here. Somewhere. Probably.

I roast Zuko too.

Anyway, in the last part, Mai said 'hey', and Zuko said 'are you cold', and Mai slapped Zuko's hand off, so I guess this leaves their relationship status in the border area.

So, what's next?

Well, despite the fact that their interactions keep going quite actively after this, we're not gonna see any real relationship progression for quite some time.

So, I suggest to take this as another opportunity to yell at study the characters instead.

And it opens with the roasting of Ty Lee.

(The structure of the beach polylogue makes it quite difficult to build a laconic presentation of the context, so... Let's just rely on our memory this time, shall we?)

Zuko: "You're stuck in your little 'Ty Lee world' where everything's great all the time." Mai: "Zuko, leave her alone."

You know, this moment almost made me suspect that Mai cares about the other girl! It would actually make my "she can't care about anyone but herself" hypothesis wrong, which would leave only one explanation for the "bring me food" moment (That is, Mai just didn't care about Zuko in particular.)

But then, after Ty Lee got emotional and cried, and there was no defender for her among their group, Mai decided it was a good time to criticize her as well.

She had a choice between expressing her annoyance (and intelligence) and sparing Ty Lee's feelings, and she prefered the former. Emotional support of her upset friend wasn't even among the options, apparently.

So, I suspect, the "defense" of Ty Lee was hardly more than another instance of scolding Zuko for being angry.

Apparently, Mai just gets disturbed (and hence annoyed) by any display of vivid negative emotions in her close circle. And if there is one thing in life she truly cares about, it's her own emotional comfort.

Simply put, Mai needs fun and pleasure, and all this dramatic shit around only sucks her energy out.

Smart choice of a boyfriend, by the way.

Pffft.

("But she said she cares about Zuko in the end!", I can hear someone protesting. Don't worry, we'll get to it.)

Mai: "I don't believe in auras." Zuko: "Yeah, you do not believe in anything."

That's a curious accusation here.

I wouldn't be surprised if there were times in the past when Zuko tried to talk about something important for him with Mai but recieved a cynical reaction.

But there's no proof for this, obviously.

Besides, as we soon learn, Zuko is not that good at identifying true sources of his frustrations.

It's still my headcanon though.

Mai: "Oh, well, I'm sorry I can't be as high-strung and crazy as the rest of you."

But... What believing or not believing in things has to do with being high-strung?  This answer just sounds so unnatural in the context. As if Mai responds not to Zuko's words, but to writer's plan her own thoughts here.

(Quite a typical behavior for an egocentric though, when I think about it.)

Still, why would Mai want to change such a convinient topic? Cynical people who proud themselves on their intelligence love talking about how stupid it is to believe in things. It's basically that Mai 'auras' answer was about. And then suddenly this awkward shift.

It's a shame, actually. To me, it would be much more interesting to hear about Mai's beliefs than to focus on imaginary "not expressing your feelings" problem.

Also, I love how Mai just casually called Azula crazy. So much fear here, if you catch my meaning.

Zuko: "I'm sorry, too. I wish you would be high-strung and crazy for once instead of keeping all your feeling bottled up inside."

When. When Mai ever kept her feeling bottled up inside? When she's bored - she says so repeatedly. When she doesn't like something - she criticizes it right away or glares at you fiercely. When you make a scene at the party - she yells at you "for once" (even though she was bored and you put quite an exciting show here, which makes her reaction kinda contr-intuitive. How interesting of an interlocutor Ruon-Jian was, anyway?)

The fact that you can't find among the feelings she expresses something you looking for, or don't find their expression intense enough is a different question entirely.

The fact that she avoids discussing problems you want to discuss too.

For some reason, you just keep barking up the wrong tree here, Zuko. I wonder if you ever heard about different nervous activity types. Or different life views. Or different anything, really.

But this is not the main problem here, obviously.

Zuko: "She just called your aura dingy. Are you gonna take that?"

Yep, Mai's self-worth is not affected as heavily by other people's opinions as yours, Zuko. What a terrible tragedy.

Mai: "What do you want from me?"

A really good question. What do you want from Mai now, Zuko? A magical transformation into Katara a person you wish her to be? Or an explanatory note for thinking and reacting not exactly like you'd prefer?

Surprise, she doesn't owe you anything! Your frustration with Mai's personality is your own problem, and you'd better start asking yourself what you really can do about it.

Take your love life in your own hands, boy, and I didn't mean it like that, you perverts or stop terrorizing your not-quite-ex-girlfriend for not meeting your emotional needs.

(You still didn't apologize to Ty Lee, by the way. Kinda ooc of you.)

Mai: "You want a teary confession about how hard my childhood was? Well, it wasn't. I was a rich only child who got anything I wanted..."

Well, this part is definitely truth.

Mai: "...as long as I behaved and sat still, and didn't speak unless spoken to. My mother said I had to keep out of trouble. We had my dad's political career to think about."

Ahhh, this part though is much more tricky.

You see, for all we know, Mai's mother could just try and prevent Mai from throwing kitchen knives at her father's important guests or from saying that their make-up is abomination. Poor little Mai though would remember it as a terrible oppresion of her self-expression for the rest of her life.

More importantly though... Even if what Mai says here objectively took place in the past, I highly doubt what it's a good explanation for her demeanor.

I mean, Toph has quite a similar background, and... Did you see Toph?

Honestly, it looks to me more like a natural temperament kind of thing. It's just the way Mai is. Maybe environment affected her to a certain degree, but I don't think its influence was crucial.

Sometimes her emotions are more intense, especially during fights, but it doesn't mean she hides some kind of oppressed passionate girl underneath her languid mask or something.

So stop trying to dig her out, Zuko, it's getting embarrassing.

Azula: "You have a controlling mother who had certain expectations, and if you strayed from them, you were shut down. That's why you're afraid to care about anything, and why you can't express yourself". Kinda cheated with this one, didn't I

Okay... first of all.

Why. Just why on earth everyone keeps saying Mai doesn't express herself? Are you blind, people? Or maybe you're deaf?  The Mai I know is one big walking talking act of self-expression!

The real problem here is that apart from her annoyance, boredom and hunger she doesn't have much to express in the first place. Because in reality, she's no more than a hedonistic self-centred brat whose lack of proper occupations and interests in life left her on the verge of depression.

And sorry, local beach ghost of an amateur psychoanalytic who's currently possessing Azula, but most likely Mai's mother's "tyranny" has nothing to do with it. Breaking news: not everything in human psychology can be explained by mommy or daddy issues.

I'd assume here much more prosaic explanation. That is, during the last decade, Mai was mostly focused on her school life, while in her free time, knife throwing and passive entertainments were her only hobbies. So, when the school ended and nothing else started, she suddenly found herself in a vacuum she didn't know what to fill with.

And since Mai is a spoiled infantile, she's always waiting for something to happen, or for someone to give her something to do instead of asking herself that she can do to change the situation fundamentally.

And apparently, being in "love" with Zuko is her only real entertainment nowadays. That's why she hey-ed him so soon after the break-up - Mai's life's emptiness reached the 'uncomfortably painful' stage at this point, so even the emotional discomfort caused by Zuko's behavior was more preferable than this.

And I don't know much about Mai being "afraid to care about anything", but I can say a couple of things about her being incapable of caring about anyone.

Growing up as a rich only child, Mai became used to the idea that everything around is about her. She's always focused on herself and her own needs, and subconsciously expects the same attention from other people (from her romantic partner especially).

It rarely occurs to her that people around may have their own interests, and "listening to Mai's complaints and entertaining her" are not among them. When the reality reminds Mai about the fact though, she just gets annoyed by such a nuisance.

I start to suspect now that her "are you cold" question in "The Awakening" was actually not about Zuko's comfort, but about Mai playing her unusual new role of a caring girlfriend. So, when her performance didn't get the expected appreciation, she immediately got frustrated - kind of like Zuko with his seashell, actually.

(Except that Zuko after this thought about something Mai really would want and went to get some ice cream. While the boy is not exactly a paragon of personal maturity himself, on his girlfriend's background, he honestly starts to look like one.)

Even after Mai's "I care about you" declaration, when she really tried to support Zuko in "Nightmares and Daydreams", it sounded like "I might be hungry for a whole tray of fruit tarts". It would be funny if it wasn't so sad, really. She had a vague idea that she's supposed to do something when her partner is upset, but even with it, she couldn't really break the egocentrical shell around her mind and see the difference between her own desires and desires of other person.

Pheeew. I finished.

Of course, all this doesn't make Mai a monster or something. The girl is only 16, and even if she wasn't, the way her personality was formed is a result of many objective circumstances.

If we look at the situation the way Mai's psychologist could, there's no point in blaming or shaming the girl - only to help her realize the problems with her attitudes and offer alternative ways of thinking.

But I am not Mai's psychologist. And I am pissed by how the episode ignores the real problem with the character and helps to promote the old pseudo-psychological myth that just blaming your parents is enough to "understand yourself".

My dear beach ghost, Mai is already a person with infantile way of thinking! She doesn't need an extra encouragement for accusing someone else in her problems.

It's not you who have to deal with her after this, you know.

Spare poor Zuko, the boy has a lot on his plate as it is.

Annnd I guess it's as good a place to stop as any other. We'll start the next part of 'Overanalyzing beach Maiko' right from Mai's... peculiar reaction to Azula's words. Yay.

Thanks for your attention?..

Fortunately I ignore all notifications.

[optimisticstudentangel]

Loosen up a little, will you

No warning. just fluff

It’s fall. You are sitting in your room listening to a comforting playlist and doing your homework. While writing tasks on your notebook, you can’t help but look at your window. The leaves had turned yellow and they were lying in a looted pile. You felt some sense of void in your heart. Maybe because you were homesick.

But you liked it here. It’s so much fun in Devildom. You have a second family in this place, so loving and caring.

Going back to your notes, you made the playlist quieter. Right now you need to put those feelings somewhere else. It will not help you, on the contrary it will worsen your well-being.

While you tried to focus on homework, someone knocked on your door.

-          Come in, - you said quietly.

-          Good evening, y/n. Oh, sorry are you busy right now? – Simeon asked you. “Well then, I will come later, if you don’t mind of course”

-          No, no. Not really. What do you want, Simeon? – you became curious. And also you were little tired of being good student. Talking to him might freshen you up, and you’ll have new burst of energy, to finish your work.

-          Ah, if so… You seem so tired lately, my little lamb… and I thought it would be a great idea to take some break for you. I am worried about your health, and about you in general. Let’s go on a walk, while it’s warm here.

 -          Yeah, why not. I would also be happy to spend some time with you. Give me a moment, I will take a sweater with me, - you went to your closet, and searched for a piece of clothing.

After finding it, you and Simeon left the house of lamentation. He shared with stories about purgatory hall, talking about Luke and Solomon.

-          Luke found a new recipe, he made cat-cupcakes. You should visit us more often, you know. So you could test-taste Luke’s sweets. And not just that, you should also see me, - you laughed at the second part.

-          Yeah, you are right, Simeon. Sorry, I wanted to became better at my studies, but it feels like no matter how hard I try, it’s never enough.

-          Little lamb. It’s admirable that you are doing your best, but don’t push yourself too much, it will only affect you negatively. You also need time to appreciate other things, like taking care of yourself. Especially that.  

-          Hehe, you sound like a mother. What else mommy Simeon?

-          Y/n! Hahah. I was trying to be serious here! – he jokingly bumped his fist to your hand. “As a mother, I don’t approve of your behavior, little one” – both of you burst out of laughing, so much so, that tears started coming from you.

Simeon and you went to the closest bench, you sat there until you calmed down. He added new things to the joke, which made it a lot funnier, and harder to your tummy to relax.  

After a long stroll, he walked you home. He promised that he would see you more often, and told you to worry less about your studies.

[olympiansally]

i tried to read fanfic after a long time, maybe like 2 years? i came across yours, and i have regrets, i'll be staying away from them for sure now thanks for ruining it for everyone :(

First of all: congratulation on being the first person ever to send me anon hate! I’m sure there’s a reward in there for you somewhere because yes, I’m so delightful no one else had ever done this before so yeah congrats on being the bitterest ever I guess?

Tbh it does say a bit about me that I’m answering this instead of my nice asks - and to the people who have send me sweet asks, I promise you they do mean so much more and they have filled my heart with joy even when I don’t answer them - however! I feel like there’s some points to be made here

To start, this is so? Vague?? Idek what I’m supposed to be insulted about? You didn’t even say which fic you read? Did you read more than one anon? Did you binge read my fics and then come give me shit about it? You did didn’t you? You secretly love me and my writing don’t you? LMAO

But in all seriousness, idk what you want me to take from this. Truly, whether or not you read fanfic has absolutely no impact on my life so uhh do whatever you want? And as for “ruining it for everyone” what does that even mean? Again, you are the first person ever to feel the need to express something negative about my stuff - and again, congrats!!

Besides, I’m not the owner of fanfics in general? People are out there writing and reading what they want and hopefully having fun - but you failed to see the point of it apparently and that’s kinda sad

I wouldn’t recommend turning away from fanfics entirely just because you didn’t enjoy one writer’s work though. Fanfics really are about finding your niche and while I might not fit into yours, there’s probably something out there to your liking.

Better yet, you could aways create content that caters to your whims and be the writer you want to see in the word - that is however much much harder and requires more effort and vulnerability than simply giving people shit for the content they give their community (for free, might I add, just because they’re nice enough to create things and let other ppl enjoy them!)

The entitlement of demanding any fan content creator meet your own personal standards screams delusional levels of spoiled child behavior to be perfectly honest and it is not a good look, so my reaction to this is simply? yikes??

I would like to add, also, that I’m under no obligation to entertain you and if you didn’t like my writing, well! You can always just close a tab! No one forced you to read it! Why waste your time and energy?

Though from the fact that you then found my tumblr and came here to send anon hate, I’m guessing you’re a fan of wasting your time.

Literally anything else would have been more productive than spending this much of your time on me if you weren’t enjoying it, so just get better soon I guess? Hot tip! You’ll probably be happier if you focus your efforts on things that bring you joy instead!

Lastly, while I’m not sure what you hoped to accomplish here, I can only sincerely hope you learn something from this irrelevant little nuisance.

That is all, bye!

Oh! And thank you for the anon hate life experience I guess?? lmao

[thefanfictionartist]

Stress Relief

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugou X Y/N

Summary: After a messy break up with another blonde peer, Y/N is left with pent up frustration, making it difficult to focus on third year exams. While studying with the Bakusquad, she notices a similar frustration in Bakugou. How are they going to relieve that stress?

Word Count: 3.8k

Rated M for Mature; intended for 18+ audiences.

A/N: Those of you with Wattpad may have seen this story from my one-shot book already.

Part Two

  ~          ~           ~            ~             ~               

 "Boys are dumb."

    That was the first conclusion you had come up with while sitting with your best friend, Mina Ashido, at lunch. As you slump over in your seat and place your head in your heads, she wraps her arms around you in consolation.

    "Well.. I can't exactly argue with you on that one." The pink-skinned girl manages a small glance to a few of the class 1-A boys.

    One of which had managed to short circuit himself while charging five phones at once, the others nearly collapsing with their laughter at their friend. Mina manages a sigh before casting her gaze back onto you.

    "Look, you know that he's just trying to get under your skin." She states before pulling away to take a sip of her soda.

    You know exactly who she's talking about because she knows exactly why you're upset.

    It was all because of a stupid dreamy blond in class 1-B. Neito Monoma. As of the current moment, you can't remember what you ever really saw in him. Why would anyone date such an egotistical ass? Risking it all, you take a chance with looking towards his usual seat in the cafeteria to find him looking right at you. And you know what he does when he sees you?

    He winks.

    Like you didn't catch him a few weeks ago with Yaoyorozu.

    Huffing in slight embarrassment, you turn back to your own table, swearing to yourself that you won't ever look his way again. "Nei-" No. He doesn't deserve for his first name to be used by you anymore. "Mr. Copycat can go fuck himself. I don't fucking care."

    You scowl, taking an aggressive bite of soba.

    "Besides, the final exams are coming up. I don't have the energy to even think about him."  You recollect, reverting to thinking about the study session the Bakusquad planned for this weekend. Mina gives you a blinding smile and a thumbs up.

    "There's the spirit, Y/N!" Her enthusiasm is hard not to mirror as lunch goes on and it ends with soba noodles nearly spurting from your nose because you were laughing so hard.

                                                         - - - - - 

    Classes had just ended for the week and you're pretty sure that you have lost knowledge rather than attaining more. Thank god for this study session or you would be failing your third year at UA.

    You rub your head, feeling a headache coming on as you try to recite important hero laws you've been taught earlier in the year. Feet dragging you into the dorms, you plop onto the couch of the common room without thinking about it. "Always be aware of your surroundings.. Do anything in your power to keep civilians safe.. Keep track of villains and whether or not you know their quirks.." Starting to mumble situational rules, you miss the extra presence in the room.

    "Oh, hey Y/N!"

    Kirishima's voice snaps you from your mantra, your head whipping around to look at him. "What's up, Kiri?"

    "We're all meeting up in Bakugou's room to start cramming. Kaminari wanted to start a little earlier than planned and I thought you might want to join." Sheepishly scratching the back of his neck, he gives you a friendly sharp-toothed smile, which manages to raise your spirits a bit.

    Nodding, you are already out of your seat. "Yeah, I'll be there I just have to grab my notes from my dorm first."

    Memorizing these things would be much easier with other people helping you remember. It always was. But somehow, you still felt distracted from your studies. You knew exactly why but also refused to dwell on the subject any longer. It wasn't worth your time.

Just as promised, you showed up at Bakugou's door a few minutes later with your 'cram-sesh' bag.

It was really just a bag filled with all of your notes, bunches of blank index cards, and an incessant amount of snacks. Because chewing can help you study better? You are pretty sure you heard that somewhere.

Opening the door, you find Kaminari and Sero looking at Bakugou with the most dumbfounded expressions you've ever seen.

"Oi! It's not that fucking hard-" Said Pomeranian was already fuming at the pair. "Just divide 78 from x and do it to the other side! It's literally the easiest question in the study guide!"

A small chuckle causes the edges of your lips to curl up in amusement with Bakugou's fit of anger as you sit down beside Mina and Kirishima, ready to fill out flash cards like your life depended on it.

For the next few hours you had tuned the yelling out so you could focus on what concepts you were sure you didn't get. Working with Kirishima and Mina was a breeze, although you felt bad sticking Bakugou with two boys who seem to have negative brain cells around one another. Managing a glance to the trio proves that it's the worst thing for Bakugou, the one of the three that not only looks like he might explode from anger, but could possibly explode. Averting your eyes to the clock, you almost gasp at the time.

No wonder you were feeling drowsy.

It was almost one in the morning. "Hey, hedgehog!" You call to Bakugou after a hefty yawn. "You got any of those energy drinks left?" The plan was to stay up all night tonight for a cramming session, although another glance to the two you were studying with proves that only one person was left. Unsure of when Kirishima left you shrug off the thought. He must need his manly sleep or whatever he calls it.

Wordlessly, Bakugou leans back to open a mini fridge behind him and grab an energy drink to toss to you.

He appears to be long done with the two boys sat beside him like lost puppies. Or at least his patience with them is completely shredded. Not to mention they didn't look like they could handle understanding any more information. "Kaminari, Sero, why don't you guys head to bed for a few hours?"

"Brain need sleep." Kaminari mutters, getting up and walking out the door without blinking. Sero follows him in a similar state, but still manages to say goodnight to the remaining three in the room.

You can hear Bakugou sigh in relief from the other side of the room as you look to Mina, fully intent on continuing with the flash cards you were quizzing each other with. Although, you find her with her hand covering her mouth as she yawns. "I'm gonna catch a few z's I think. But I'll be back around 8 in the morning." Granting her a smile, you nod, letting her head off to bed, although you were disappointed since you felt like you were making progress.

"Yeah, I'll be here, studying. Goodnight, Mina." Bakugou merely grunts in acknowledgment as Mina leaves you two alone in the room.

This definitely wasn't the first time you had been in Bakugou's room alone while studying. But it was the first time that you noted Bakugou was so.. tense. "Were the boys really that bad?" One of your eyebrows quirks in curiosity to his enhanced sense of irritation. A quick flash of red tells you that Bakugou is glaring daggers at you from your simple question.

"Tch. They're always bad." You note the roll of his eyes before the crimson hues land on whatever study guide he has in front of him.

Scooting your work so that the papers are sprawled closer to your study buddy, you lean against his bed, still laser focused on how frustrated he seemed. "And? You're normally more patient with them.. It takes at least two hours before your screaming, typically."

"Whatever."

    You click your tongue, deciding to leave the topic for the moment. "Can you quiz me on these really quick? I think I have them down by now." The stack of index cards you had filled out with Mina ends up on top of the paper that Bakugou is focused on.

    The blond makes a small noise of irritation and for a moment, you swear he's about to blow up on you.

    Instead, he neatly collects the index cards and sets them to the side of his own paper. "Yeah, I need a break first. Dunce face is exhausting."

    You nod, cracking open the energy drink you were given not to long ago while Bakugou does the same. Sighing contently, you can already feel the 300 mg of caffeine beginning it's work. "Want any snacks?" Looking to Bakugou, you point at your bag as you refer to snacks, knowing that he'd probably steal all of your Takis.

    It doesn't take long for him to find the sacred bag of spicy chips that he craved. "Thanks." He utters, settling down as he has himself a little midnight snack break.

    Both of you sit in silence for a minute and surprisingly, you aren't the one to break that bubble.

    Bakugou glances to you confusedly, something weighing on his mind. "What's the deal with you and that copycat bastard lately? I thought you two couldn't breathe without sucking faces every hour." He smirks, containing a chuckle. Really, he was relieved he didn't have to witness it for the past few weeks. The scene could make anyone uncomfortable.

    Your face flushes red in frustration at the mention of He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name.  Not able to bring yourself to look at Bakugou, you fiddle with a stray pencil on the floor.

    "We broke up."

    Keeping your tone curt, you make it clear that this is not a subject you'd like to discuss. In fact, it was the one thing that actually messed with you at this point. You hated that He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name had this kind of hold on you. A hold that distracted you and made you question whether or not you should go back to him.

    "He cheated on me." You decide to give further explanation to a speechless Bakugou, pretending to write notes on a mostly blank paper.

    "Shit- I-" He stumbles over his words, smirk falling.

    Offering a small smile, you finally look back at him. "It's fine... I only miss him for the stress relief anyways." Adding a small remark seems to put Bakugou back into his normal, non-sympathetic state.

    "Huh?"

    "He's a shitty boyfriend, but a good fuck." You put it into terms Bakugou would be more likely to understand. "Now will you stop eating the damn chips and quiz me on the rest of the flash cards."

    "Tch." A dusting of pink momentarily appears on Bakugou's cheeks, but he seems to ignore it as he picks up the index cards again. "Describe the Crime Control Theory."

"Pfft. That's easy." The remark leaves your lips before you really reach into the depths of your mind for the answer. "It's.." Oh no. Didn't you just go over that with Mina. "It's.." Trying to actually think about it makes you realize that your mind has been bombarded with the crummy memory of He-Who-You-Swore-Not-To-Name, so, you huff and bullshit your way through the answer.

"It's obviously the theory that.. theoretically.. describes how to control crime?"

A scowl from Bakugou tells you that you most definitely have the answer wrong. "Are you really that much of a dumbass?" He says it so patronizingly that you're almost personally offended.

"Hey! It's not like that. I've just had a rough few weeks, alright? Give me a break." You pout. "Maybe if I help you study something I'll pick up something? What are you working on?" Reaching towards the blonde male, you grab the paper he seemed to be writing on previously, much to his own shame.

"What the fuck is this?" You don't mean to sound rude when you ask the question you're just shocked.

Instead of finding a paper with neat answers to question and nice notes in the margins, you discover that whatever work was on the paper has been completely covered with angry scribbles. Looking at Bakugou, you can tell that even he's disappointed in himself. His head hangs low and he can't seem to bring himself to look you in the eyes. "I don't fucking know! I was fine with geometry a week ago and.." He lets out an exasperated noise, hitting the back of his head on his bed.

"Somethings wrong with me. All I can think about it that shitty written final test and how I can't fail it. I need to be a hero but that means I need to graduate."

All that you find yourself responding with is a resounding laugh, so powerful that you're clutching your stomach.

"Oh my- Bakugou, do you hear yourself right now?"

Boom Boom Boy sends a piercing glare to you. "Shut up! Just forget I said anything, idiot!"

"That not what I-" You take a deep breath to stop most of your laughing. "I meant it's ridiculous for you of all people to be worried about these finals. You've literally been studying for this shit since you were a first year."

Bakugou's expression softens with your words.

"I can't help it. I just-" His hands comb through his spiky blond locks for a moment before grabbing and pulling large sections of his hair. "Gah! What is this?!"

"It's called stress, Bakubro." You finalize the statement with a soft punch to his shoulder. "Welcome to the world of normal emotion."

"I don't want it!" Bakugou abruptly puts his hands on the ground, looking overall agitated, like a child who doesn't want to go down for naps.

"There are ways to make yourself less stressed you know? In fact there's one word I can fit stress relief into: Fun." Both of your hands open dramatically in front of you as you say fun, hoping to get Bakugou in a better mood. He is your tutor after all and if he's too stressed to help, you're screwed.

    "Tch. Fun is something for kids, dumbass." He responds nonchalantly, rolling his eyes irritably as though you should've known that as fact.

    You smirk, stifling a chuckle behind your hand as you retort, "So you're saying that only kids have sex?" A small giggle echoes momentarily through the room from you as you appreciate Bakugou's dumbfounded expression.

    "You think I should have sex to relieve stress?"

    "Well... yeah? It's always worked for me and I'm pretty sure most people would agree with me." There's a long moment of uncomfortable silence that you sit in with Bakugou as he mills over what you've just said.

    "..." The blond hedgehog furrows his eyebrows as he thinks, finally gazing in your direction. "And who do you suggest I have sex with? It's not like I have time for a relationship when I'm gonna be the number one hero." This question throws you for a loop. And you consider the options that he has mentally before realizing there's a perfect option that you hadn't considered yet.

    "Why not just get a friend with benefits? That way it's just sex when you need it without the additive of romance."

    "You're still not answering the 'who the fuck would agree to that shit'?!"

    "Me." You deadpan.

    The explosive boy sitting next to you fumbles for his next wording in a stupefied manner. "S-S-Ser-iously?"

    Shrugging, you nod, locking onto his eyes with your own. "Yeah. Why wouldn't I be serious? It's not like I want a relationship now anyways after that dumbass Copycat. Plus it's not just you that's stressed out over shit, you know?"

   Seemingly considering the option, Bakugou looks to his lap, biting his lip in deep thought.

    "Fine." He looks to you annoyedly, even though his body was certainly excited by the idea. "But first we probably need some shitty ground rules or something."

    "Agreed."

    "Don't tell anyone about what we do or I'll blow your ass up." Irate at the thought of Raccoon Eyes finding out about this and telling everyone, Bakugou subconsciously leans towards you. Not that you noticed.

    "Wasn't planning on it."

    "Any special rules you got?" A smirk plays at the corners of Bakugou's lips as he leans towards you.

    With Bakugou this close, you can feel your heart begin to beat a little faster with excitement. "Um-" In a couple spare second of clarity, you manage to choke out, "I might be on birth control but I still want you to use a condom."

    "Done."

    He responds coolly, leaning ever so much closer to you and letting his lips brush over yours before he shifts to whisper in your ear. "If we do this, I want the ability to fuck you whenever and wherever I like."

    Your breath hitches and you boldly decide to wrap your arms around Bakugou's neck as your eyes meet his crimson hues. "Just stay within reason.. and don't fall in love with me." You add another rule with a sultry tone.

    "You better not fall in love with me, dumbass." Bakugou hisses before connecting his lips with yours in a heated fervor. His hands attach to each side of your face, giving him most control over the kiss. You moan softly against him in response to his aggressiveness, your body already tingling.

    Up until this moment, you hadn't realized how much your body was craving to be this close with someone. It was enough to make you almost painfully aroused within the minute.

    Bakugou pushes you so that you're comfortably laying on the carpeted floor of his dorm room, with him directly between your legs. Your hands pull at his shirt, desperate to get it off right now. He catches on to the message quickly and pulls off his shirt in record time, still letting out a low growl of discontent when he had to pull away from the kiss. His lips meet back with yours, this time noting just how plush your lips feel against his.

    Scratching lightly over Bakugou's chest seems to rile him up some because within seconds, he's already rutting himself against your clothed core, the bulge in his joggers becoming very apparent.

     Gasping softly at the friction, you comb your fingers through his hair, pulling at a few tufts while Bakugou takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. You can feel the slippery muscle glide sensually above yours, completely dominating your mouth before you even have the chance to defend. Wrapping your legs around Bakugou's hips, you grind against him. He groans and you decide to tangle your tongue with his in the hopes of winning the small battle.

    But before you can win, he pulls back, his pupils blown by so much lust that you can barely see the scarlet iris surrounding them. "Clothes off, now.." The husky tone of his voice sends waves of arousal straight to your core and you fumble to stand up while he digs through his draw for a condom.

    In record time, you've completely stripped yourself of clothing and laid on Bakugou's bed, which was exceedingly more comfortable that the floor. You feel yourself ache for some kind of pleasure and unabashedly open your legs to display your dripping core to Bakugou. "Bakugou.. please fuck me." You whine lewdly, being mindful of the fact that the blond has neighbors.

    He had expected for you to want more preparation but with the way you were strewn out on his bed, so deliciously begging for his cock... How could he deny your request?

    In an instant, his remaining clothes are discarded and the condom is rolled safely on his erection. In the next moment he's on top of you, lining himself up with your hole.

    Despite how much he wanted to shove himself inside of you immediately, he still took a moment to look into your eyes and ask, "Are you sure about this, (Y/N)?"

    "Yes!"

    You respond enthusiastically. "Please! I need your-" You are promptly interrupted by Bakugou thrusting into you unforgivingly, making you gasp with a loud moan. "Fuck!" Having him fully sheathed inside of you was unlike anything you've felt before. It was so pleasurable that you truly couldn't think of anything else.

    "Shit-" Bakugou balances himself above you by placing his hand just above your shoulders. He takes a moment to let you adjust to his size. Although, it's hard to control himself with how tight and warm you feel. He grimaces, hands crackling slightly with his quirk as he tries to slowly pull himself out of you and thrust back in.

    The next thrust pinpoints your g-spot, making you moan loudly beneath Bakugou. He smirks down to you, knowing exactly where he hit and intending to hit it again. Your hand grab at his back, stabilizing yourself as he drives himself against your g-spot again and again, finding a starting rhythm and gradually getting faster with his thrusts.

    Each rut from Bakugou tears an angelic moan from your throat. And even though he loves the sound, he ends up covering your mouth and leaning towards your ear while he picks up the pace. "Be quiet, dumbass." He reprimands. "You're gonna wake everyone up if you keep crying like that." His eyes look to yours from a moment and you nod to confirm that you heard him, your moans muffled by his hand.

    Soon Bakugou's hand is replaced with his lips as he kisses you roughly, his calloused hand tracing gently down your sides while he drills into you.

    Each of your moans vibrates against his lips, although you try to conceal most of them, in fear of someone catching you. You can feel Bakugou's hips stutter slightly against you and he moves his fingers down to your clit, rubbing circles while he thrusts even harder. You whimper pathetically at the sensation, your walls clamping down on Bakugou's cock as you reach your climax with him soon chasing after his own.

    He pants heavily, groaning as his hips still against you. Releasing into the condom, he rolls to the side to discard of the trash, tossing your clothes to you. He wiped himself off with a tissue and begins to dress himself before looking back to you with a smirk.

    "I think this 'Friends who have fun' thing is really gonna work, (Y/N). I feel better already."

    You smile, throwing on your shirt and underwear while still on the bed. "I told you sex was fun.." Hopping off the bed, you wobble ever-so-slightly before slipping back into your shorts. You nudge Bakugou playfully before settling on the ground. "Let's pick up where we left off, shall we?"

    Your eyes scour the ground for the index cards that you had been quizzing with previously.

    "Actually..." Bakugou begins speaking, making you look up to him. "We still have a few hours before the idiots come back." He gestures to the clock before looking at you mischievously. "And I think I should relieve a little more tension before dealing with them."

[d6official]

K-pop’s Jae Park on the panic attack that triggered him to deal with his mental health issues

Jae Park of Day6 realised he hasn’t been doing well for a long time while on a car ride in April, when he was thinking he was going to die.

The 28-year-old K-pop singer-guitarist later learned he wasn’t having a heart attack, but was experiencing an intense panic attack born out of his struggle with anxiety.

“When you come to this … I wouldn’t say peaceful resolution, but a very frightening resolution that, ‘Yeah, I might die in here and I’m going to have to accept that,’ your perspective on things kind of changes,” he reveals.

“I realised I was putting things off for so, so long that I’d become numb to the fact that it was slowly physically manifesting. I was always a believer that you can just ride things out, even if you’re sick you go on stage and start working, and you won’t feel sick any more. Even if you have a headache, you sleep, you wake up, you feel better. I was always that kind of person. But it didn’t feel like that in that car ride.”

Now Park, who typically is known just as “Jae” in the K-pop world, is in a better place; he’s working on facing the circumstances of his life and making changes to take care of himself, including taking medication that helps take the edge off.

“I’ve been feeling a lot better, and learning more and more. After it happened I started delving deeper into the mental health aspect of what was going on with me as a person,” he says.

“[Poor} mental health isn’t a choice you make, but something that occurs to you due to your choices. You don’t choose whether to allow yourself to succumb to it, you just over time build up to the point where eventually everything crumbles down. You ignore your worries.

“You sweep everything under the rug, all your emotions, enough times for [it] to flip over eventually with everything on top of it.”

He’s since made it his aim to spread awareness of the impact of toxic positivity and of the importance of treating mental health as normally as treating physical health, because he spent the majority of his life unaware of the connection and the potential of his mental state to impact his physical health.

“It’s not something I want people to go through, so if I can do anything in this world before I leave it, let’s raise some awareness. And so if maybe someone has an episode like me, they’ll be able to look back on my interview or see through the campaign that, ‘Oh, this might be a panic attack.’

“I’ve since learned after that incident that a lot of panic attack first-timers assume they’re having heart attacks. It’s this imminent feeling that you’re going to die. On the walk home, I was crying.

“I don’t know if it was tears of joy or fear, but I just remember crying a lot.”

Why Jae Park launched his clothing line

Jae recently teamed up with charitable apparel brand Represent to launch his From Friends clothing line, one of the aims of which is to remind people that it is okay to turn to friends when they’re having a rough time, rather than always putting on a happy face and pushing emotions aside.

“I really wanted to let people know that it’s okay not to be okay. That’s what caused me not being able to function. If you’re still at a stage where you’re not sure if you’re okay, talk to friends. Talk about it, and realise you may be going through something bigger than you think.

“I’m not saying over-exaggerate every emotional hurdle you jump over, but I knew what I was doing when I was sweeping things under the rug.

“If you’re not at that point where you have to get on medication or need therapy or some other kind of treatment, you need to maybe stop what you’re doing and look at yourself real quick before you have an incident.”

Through the collaboration, Jae and Represent donated US$100,000 to the Jed Foundation, an organisation combating mental health stigma and raising awareness of suicide prevention among America’s youth. The artist grew up in California and only began pursuing a career in South Korea’s music world while taking a break from college back in 2012.

Jae wants to focus on talking about the experience with younger people, because he wishes someone had told him about the potential impact of ignoring mental health.

“‘From Friends’ was a thought that I had, that it would be more personable and relatable if the message came from a friend. ‘As a friend, I want to let you know that I screwed myself over by doing this, so this is my advice to you and I hope you take a look at yourself.’ Not the ‘yes’ men around you, your friends who are always telling you things are great even when they aren’t. Real friends will tell you when something is wrong. ‘You don’t seem like yourself these days, maybe take a step back and look at yourself?’”

Following his panic attack in the car and starting on medication, Jae said some of his friends pointed out to him he’s a bit more solemn and has a less bright personality.

There is stigma about mental health medication in this regard, but Jae feels it’s not impacting him negatively, but rather he’s able to rein in his need to be overenthusiastic and upbeat to compensate for feeling low.

One thing Jae really wants to combat is toxic positivity, which he feels he was constantly leaning into prior to his panic attack in April; he would often attempt to put on a good face and put good energy into the world in a way that’s idealised without internalising his own feelings.

He says he’s still learning to really understand the idea, but thinks it’s along the lines of not really believing something but saying it regardless to try to seem a certain way publicly, or manifesting good energy when it’s not necessarily there.

Jae feels his chosen field of work hasn’t necessarily helped the situation, and he’s grappling with that while trying to raise discussions.

Is K-pop part of the problem?

“Especially, I feel like [K-pop] idols are … supposed to uphold a standard of perfection, but that in itself I think is a form of toxic positivity. It’s extremely, extremely toxic, more than most people think. We’re role models, right?

“If we’re always picture perfect, squeaky shiny, and always for the right causes, never have an opinion [on] anything, what happens when the people who look up to us have an opinion? When they’re not squeaky perfect? If they’re comparing themselves to us, they may think, ‘My favourite singer is always happy. He’s always cheery. But I’m sad. That’s strange.’ What kind of role model is that?”

Change is happening slowly in the industry, and artists are increasingly talking about their own states of mental health. The past few years have seen several K-pop artists go on hiatus to take care of themselves. But there’s still more work to do, according to Jae.

“I think people need to be more real. I think people need to be more transparent. Mental health has become a wider known issue these days, so I think more people are open to talking about it.

“We preach that it’s okay to be normal, but it’s not something that we actually show, don’t actually act on. We preach it all the time: ‘It’s okay not to be okay.’ You see it in the songs everywhere. But I feel like the same artists who sing these songs and the same people who say these things publicly are the same people who always are perfect on the red carpet, never transparent enough to show who they actually are as a person.

“I feel like that in itself is a kind of hypocrisy. I try to be as human as I can while upholding a certain standard because I recognise and respect the culture [of being a celebrity].”

It was upholding the unrealistic standards that Jae in part thinks led things to get so bad, as he was always thinking about the perceptions of others and reining himself in.

A comment a fan made on social media about it being a good thing that he was less likely to share an opinion while speaking in Korean, rather than in English, helped him realise the intensity of what he was doing: because there is an idea that having opinions as a public person can lead to trouble, some fans of a group may not want band members to reflect their true opinions, and he had internalised the burden of that feeling regarding opinions to the extreme.

“It’s so ridiculous to me,” he admits. “That having an opinion could have any sort of connotation of being negative. I feel like having an opinion is never the problem. Having a strange and maybe immoral or unjust opinion, that’s definitely the problem. We as a society have come to a point where you can’t say anything without being judged.”

Now, he’s trying to be more forthright and earnest while expressing himself, and trying not to internalise the opinions of every random person who has opinions on his opinions, and thus has more or less stopped reading comments on social media.

“My emotional energy can be used better somewhere else, and I only have a certain amount every day,” he admits. “If people are going to hate me for what I think, they’re going to hate me regardless, so I’m just trying to be more open about everything now. No bubble of protection, no filter, no safety being on any more. If they don’t like it, that’s just me.

“I removed that filter because I thought it was one of the reasons I had that panic attack in the first place. I think I was right, because I’ve been having less and less [incidents]. Biting your tongue is necessary in many situations, but biting it to the extent that I was biting it because of boundaries I wasn’t allowed to cross, or certain opinions I was told I couldn’t uphold, that was what was hurting me the most.”

Making his own music, and the future

Following the incident, Jae spent much of 2020 not actively taking part in the activities of Day6, and focused on releasing his own music under the name “eaJ”. Through several releases, he explored his own artistry rather than thinking about what audiences want to hear, and focused on finding what he likes, trying to garner respect for his musical capabilities, and consider what he wants out of his career.

He feels like he succeeded at that, and hopes 2021 bears the fruit of the seeds he planted last year.

“Music gets my imagination going; using my emotional energy on a song or recording session, that seems like a lot more fruitful than worrying about a comment that I can’t do anything about regardless.”

One thing that inspired him to share some solo work with the world was the realisation of how much it was impacting him that his musical worth within Day6 wasn’t getting much recognition.

“We as a team are always involved in the songs, and it felt really discrediting and disheartening to hear that some members were more recognised than others. [I thought} ‘Maybe it’s time you start following your own career path and showing your own colours.’”

Three members of the band released an album in August, but Jae and the group’s other vocalist-guitarist, Sungjin, both sat it out. Jae admits that his hiatus from the band since early May wasn’t exactly his idea.

“It may be a bit of a surprise for some people to hear, but I was never someone that said, ‘I need a break.’ I was like, ‘I’ll get better.’ I was thinking, ‘I might need a little bit of time, but you guys get on it first.’ To be honest, I will be thriving, and Day6 will be, with the next album. When everyone is ready, I’ll be good.”

Overall, Jae says he’s optimistic and looking forward to a successful, healthy 2021. “I’m definitely recovering, and hopefully moving in the right direction,” he says.

source

[willow-salix]

Why hello there

Is there anything you would recommend a babi witch like myself studying that has been missed from my list :>

Mah list (so far):

○ Witch vs Pagan vs Wicca

○ Types of witches

○ Grey witch

○ Black witch

○ Crystals + Properties

○ Sacred geometry

○ Pentacle + Pentagram

○ Sigils

○ Protection

○ Moon phases

○ Sabbats

○ Types of salts

○ Respecting nature

○ Graveyard etiquette

○ Spirit guides

○ Divination (runes, Tarot, Coins, etc)

○ Casting a circle

○ Candle magick

○ Colour magick

○ Closed practice appropriation

○ Herbs

○ Astrology

○ Tree of life

○ Auras

○ The five clairs

○ Energy/visualisation magick

○ History of starseeds

○ Astral projection

○ Methods of meditation

○ Grounding

○ Plant magick

Ooh OK! Here goes.

First and foremost, as a witch of twenty plus years, the most important thing I can tell you is to be yourself. If this is a belief system and way of life that you want for life it has to fit in with you and your personality.

Forget everything you see on Instagram, tictok or Pinterest, it's not about the aesthetic, it's about you.

There is no room for witch shaming on my blog.

And by that I mean that EVERYONE works in different ways, at a different pace and to different levels. Never compare yourself to anyone else or how they work. Never think that you aren't doing enough or that you aren't progressing enough.

You are on your own path and that is the right one for you, so you do it your own way. You want to stop and smell the flowers? Do it. You want to dip your feet in that stream? Go for it! You want to stop and rest for a bit? Best idea ever!

You should never feel pressured to do anything that you aren't ready for or aren't comfortable with. That includes such things as blood magic, working with deity you don't feel a connection with, working skyclad, doing any kind of sexual magic or anything that makes you feel off about it. It's YOUR craft.

Be kind to yourself, don't have expectations and don't ever think you aren't good enough or worthy.

This includes making your craft unique to you. Visualisation is one of the witches most poweful tools, the magic doesn't come from the expensive athame, insence or candles, its in the heart of the witch. The power comes from you. And visualisation is your key to that but so is choosing how to make it work for you.

Take me for example, I'm this loveable thundernerd witch, so that reflects in my craft.

In circle (mediumship development) we did a meditation and I was directed to the beach. So what beach did I go to...

"There's a lovely beach, I can feel the salt water on my skin, I can smell the salt in the air, there's a light breeze that's rustling the leaves on the palm trees all around me and in the distance I can hear the faint sound of someone playing the piano."

Hell yeah I was there. That's my happy place!

I need to ascend to a higher level of consciousness? Am I taking that golden winding staircase or am I calling John for the space elevator? What do you think I'm gonna choose?

I need to go lower, below the earth to go into trance? Hell I'm taking Alan's seat down.

Make it work for you.

Working with charms, that's a very important thing for me. I have lucky charms, trinkets and things everywhere. And they don't have to be pagan. I put a spell on my car to keep me safe and the car safe. Then I charged up a little TAG John and Virgil, they live in my car, Virgil is my co-pilot John is my navigator. They help me feel calm and safe.

Energy weaving is a big thing, I always do it that any energy I raise for something that doesn't already have a predetermined purpose, say for example it's full moon and I'm bouncing around outside, everything I raise I direct out to the earth as healing. I'll raise my arms to the heavens and say : I send this energy out to anyone or anything that needs it right now, I send my love and healing into the wind and trust that it will be taken to where it can do the mslt good.

Talking to other witches about how they do things and how they work is sooooo important. That's why I'm not in a tradition ( alexandrian, gardnerian etc) because I don't like having just one way to do things. That doesn't work for most people, they just won't admit it.

Trying different things to find a way that works for you is so much nicer and healthier than struggling to work the one way that you've been taught. So read, a lot, watch a lot of reputable youtubers (I recommend Tylluan Penry, she's amazing, a grandmother witch and a good friend of mine) and make your own choices. And remember that nothing is set in stone, we are ever evolving and every changing, if you feel the urge to try something new and work a different way, do it. You don't have to stick with it.

An astral altar, sooo important but something I don't see many people talking about. An astral altar is something you build in meditation.

You have your happy place, somewhere you feel safe and calm and protected (Tracy Island and the beach for me or my Nan and Grandads house as I remember it before they passed away) but it could be anywhere, a woodland, a house, a stream, a playground you used to love. Anything or anywhere.

Here you find a nice place that you like and you dream up /visualise your altar base, like a nice table, a tree stump, and rock, anything. And here you place all the items you might need, all the things you've dreamed about that you can't afford or the things you have in real life. And you place them all there. You keep that space, you charge it up, you spend time there and then, any time you are away form home or can't get to your altar in the real world for any reason, you have somewhere to go, somewhere to work and some where to commune.

Tools, I didn't see that on the list but might have missed it.

Anything can be a tool. That's the biggest lesson of all. Our pagan ancestors would have used whatever they had to hand, no tools were single use or bought for the purpose of their craft. A cauldron was cooked in all week, a knife is used to chop everything and then used to direct energy.

These days we have the resources (and don't have to hide) to be able to have specific tools that we use only for our craft, but they don't have to be expensive. Go to a thrift store or buy cheap on eBay, a letter opener is an athame, a single wine glass can be a chalice, a pretty bowl is your offering bowl, a single plate is an offering plate, mismatched candle stick holders. All valid and will work just as well. The tools are a focus, they are NOT the source of our power.

Another tip, make witchcraft part of your every day life. Make it as natural and normal as everything else you do. It's part of your life and should be treated as such.

Making coffee in the morning? Set your intentions for the day and focus on it as you make it. You want to draw positivity? Stir doesil (clockwise) that's attracting. Want to rid yourself of the bad mood you had yesterday? Stir widdershins (counterclockwise) that's banishing. Not got anything? Stir a pentagram and call it good.

Sigils, doodle them everywhere (if you want a quick lesson on how to draw them and make up your own, let me know). Charm the shit out of everything.

Whisper a food blessing before you make food or eat. Bring that abundance in.

Trail your fingers along a wall or bushes to feel the energy as you walk.

Everything is magical to a witch.

Read mythology stories, it helps us learn and helps us connect to the stories of our pantheons and deity.

And heres the biggest thing I can tell you. Don't worry about getting things wrong. It's how we learn and honestly there is no such thing as wrong as long as your intentions are right.

Wording of spells doesn't matter, the intention and feeling behind them does.

You can do a cleansing by saying : Blessed spirit, Father God, mother goddess, I ask that you bless this house/tool /space and help drive out any negativity. Spirits that reside, if you're good you may stay, if you wish me halm, then please leave.

Nothing wrong with that.

Or you do a me: Mother Goddess, Father God, I'm back. Help me out here please, I need to cleanse this shit. Yo, spirits, good guys, ya chill, bad shit, get the fuck out! I'm the witch I'm in charge, do as you're told *claps hands all over the place and follows up with a cloud of vape smokes because my intention is in my breath and I'm blowing that negativity away*

And last but not least. I'm sure you've heard "Ever mind the rule of three, what you send out comes back to thee" That's very true, try to only send out good if you can. But you're human and it won't always happen, you'll have bad thoughts and negative emotions, that's normal and fine. Just don't do it with nastiness in your heart.

"and if it harms none, do what you will."

There's a line here most people don't know... "do no harm. But take no shit."

Because the one person most witches forget to look out for is themselves. Being good, doing good and being positive is great, but not at the expense of yourself. If it harms you, don't do it.

Love and light, and bright blessings to you. X

[dewipersikkk]

Hi! I'm a new rm shipper and im also muslim so I found ur blog rlly nice and inviting!! Thank you for just being part of the fandom, and I was just wondering what you thought on Petra Ral? I've been getting a lotta hate from rivetra shippers recently, so I wanted to kinda get an opinion on the character herself...

Hello, sorry for the late response! Oh it's nice to have some muslim friends here😍!

My thoughts on Petra Ral? In the canon part, I'm neutral with her like I don't even care about her existence in the anime/manga😂. In my opinion, her character is not that really important in the manga/anime. She's just a support character.

In the fanfics world, most Rivamika fanfics contains a lot of Petra as a villain hahaha and I DO HATE HER MOST OF THE TIME in fanfics of course. Sometimes, she will be the ex-girlfriend or ex-fiancee or ex-wife of Levi. Sometimes she will be the that one mean girl who wants to snatch the boyfriend away. Sometimes she will be that bratty little sister of Levi (I do read a Spanish Rivamika One-Shot about Petra as Levi's lil sis who falls in love with her own brother and yeah what she did to Mikasa is 'unforgivable').

I love it when Petra becomes the lil sis or the supportive cousin or friend of Levi in the fanfics world. It's more to heartwarming and yeah it's not that cliche. Sometimes she will be the one who support Mikasa with Levi. I do love to read some 'good-minded' Petra rather than that typical evil mistress.

Regarding the rive//tra shippers who attacks you, let them say whatever they wanted to say to you. A gentle reminder, the ship is already *POOF* in the early of the manga, so no need to worry about it. What's important is Rivamika have a lot of quality and *chef kissu* crumbs about them either in the manga, anime, merchandises and such.

Let them say what they want to say because you and you're the only one who can see what's unique and special about Rivamika, not them. If the shippers attacked you, you don't have to attack them back like what they did to you. Honestly and have to admit that I do love to shit on haters that really annoyed me and to those haters that attacked my rivamika friends. However, somehow it's a waste of energy and time to fight with those nuts.

I do realize now that we, rivamika shippers, could break the cycle of negativity and insult from the anti-rivamika/some people who hates you by ignoring them, learn to be positive and empower yourself! Don't let them lower your guard down as a rivamika shipper and also a human. Focus on your own rather than focusing on what people think of you and your opinions on liking something. Just mind your business and concentrate yourself with some good people.

There's a good quote that I read somewhere in Twitter ; "Stop wasting time"

Stop wasting time to change the hater's mind. Stop arguing with those who tried to tear you down and deceive you.

In summary, I don't really mind with Petra Ral in canon but the fanon one is sometimes kinda "overreacting" and I don't really like her when she's the evil mistress. Kinda cliche and predictable....Actually I don't want Levi to have any girl other than Mikasa lolol. I like Petra in fanon when she's become the supportive person in the fic. Also, there's no need to worry with the rive//tra because you, as a rivamika shipper, should be proud enough that Rivamika is the only ship that has wah more potential and there's alot more crumbs and chemistry between them ;)

[super-secret-sick-fics]

hii you said that requests were open so i was wondering if you’d want to write an iwaoi sick fic? like it’s a middle of a practice match agaisnt some school and oikawa feels sick but doesn’t tell anyone beforehand?

Hello and thank you for the request!! I hope this is kinda what you wanted. I tried :) sorry it took me a minute!

An Off Day: an IwaOi Sick fic

Pairing: Sick Oikawa, Caretaker Iwaizumi

Words: ? (I didn’t get a count sorry—longer though)

Warnings: fever, passing out, cursing

————————

It was a dull day.

Oikawa sat in class, his head resting on his palm, and everything just felt faded. Existing as a human today seemed like entirely too much work.

He wasn’t sure what it was, but his entire day, his surroundings, his overall demeanor— none of them were as vivid and bright as usual. Things were just...off.

He felt off.

A lethargic and overall blah feeling clung to him like a thick winter coat, making him feel like he couldn’t breathe and leaving his head muddled. He didn’t know what was going on with his body and it was incredibly frustrating.

Oikawa scoffed to himself, ignoring the curious side eye from the girl next to him, and resolutely decided to ignore the dull, blah feeling. Surely if he willed himself to feel less blah, then that would put the pep back in his step. Besides, this was his last class of the day and then it was time for practice.

They were playing some no-name, no-skill team in what Oikawa deemed a “charity” practice match. For the other team, it would be a learning experience. For Seijoh, it would be another victory to add to their running total.

Class finally ended and he stood up to head to the club room. Immediately, his knees buckled and black spots danced in his vision. A small hand grasped his upper arm and held him steady. Once the spots cleared, he saw the small girl who sits next to him looking up at him, concern etched into her face.

“Oikawa-san? You look pale. You should go home and rest. I’m sure they’ll be okay without you at practice today.” He shook his head.

“I just got up too fast. Thank you for helping me out,” he smiled and she hesitantly let his arm go. She nodded, grabbed her bag, and left the classroom.

Oikawa, much to his dismay, was still dizzy though. He placed his hands on his desk and ducked his head, squeezing his eyes shut while he waited for it to pass.

In the club room, he met up with Iwaizumi and chatted with his other teammates here and there, resolutely ignoring the fatigue thay plagued him.

Warm-ups came and went and their coach went over the rotation for the practice match. All the while, the lethargy he felt never went away like he thought it would. In fact, it seemed to be increasing and there was now a dull, consistent thudding in his head. Maybe it was more than just an off day? Maybe something was wrong?

He didn’t get much time to explore the new thoughts, because the other team arrived and their practice match began. Oikawa was right; the other team wasn’t a challenge in the slightest. The fact that it was any easy game didn’t make him feel any better about his complete lack of game.

Nearly every single one of his sets was wrong. Too high or too low. Too far left or right. The ball wasn’t settling in his fingers the way he needed it too and it all irritated him to no end.

He couldn’t concentrate. Every now and then, the court tilted dangerously sideways and he had to consciously ground his feet to bring it back to equilibrium. He was starting to feel weak. His limbs weighed about 1,000 lbs, making every lift of his arms to set the ball or movement of his legs to cross the court a Herculean effort. All he wanted was to curl up on the ground and take a nap.

“Hey, you okay?” Matsu walked up to him during a break between serves and put a hand on his shoulder. He was frowning. Oikawa glowered at him.

Was he okay? No. Of course not. He was 98% sure that he had a fever. Would that stop him from playing? No. Of course not. This was an easy team to beat. If he couldn’t push through this, then he wasn’t worth anything to his team.

“Yeah. Fine.” He snapped. Matsuhana put his hands up and backed away. Play resumed.

It was just a cold. He could shake this feeling if he just pushed through it hard enough. If Oikawa was confident of anything, it was his ability to ignore negative feelings and punch through bad moods.

That confidence slowly drained out of Oikawa along with any energy and focus he may have had the longer the game continued.

The two teams switched sides of the court and Iwaizumi appeared at his side.

“Hey, what’s the deal? You okay? We should have taken this set a long time ago,” he grumbled, his usual grumpy tone setting all of Oikawa’s already frazzled nerves even more on edge. His lip curled as he glanced over at his best friend.

“Thanks, Iwa-chan, I didn’t realize,” he sneered. Iwa’s eyes widened and he blinked comically. Oikawa would have made a joke if he wasn’t feeling so shitty.

“Don’t take it out on me, Trashykawa,” Iwa’s eyes narrowed, “your sets have been off all match.”

Oikawa felt like he was slapped in the face because he knew that. Of course he was more than aware that not a single one of his sets hit their mark yet. It was eating away at him and it made his stomach churn. He could do this though. He would not let his team down.

“I know,” he muttered. Iwa’s face changed again, but Oikawa’s vision blurred and he couldn’t make out what expression the ace had. He walked away.

“Oi, come back here a seco—“ Iwa started but was cut off by their coach.

“Iwaizumi! You gonna stand around and talk all day or are you gonna let us resume the match?”

He glanced one more time at Oikawa before getting into position. Oikawa thought maybe he looked concerned or upset or something, but he honestly didn’t have the energy to figure it out. It was all he could do to stand up right.

The set continued and each passing second was an eternity to Oikawa. Black spots popped up more frequently and he had to squeeze his eyes shut quickly and exhale to keep himself from passing out. It was a losing battle.

The dull thud in his head grew into a steady pounding that took up residence behind his eyes, leaving him vaguely nauseated. It was getting harder to breathe, even though he wasn’t running around like he normally would be. The gym swirled and he blinked several times, but it wasn’t going back to normal. The sounds of shouting and squeaking shoes faded away, replaced by a strange roaring sound.

Oikawa realized very quickly that he was in serious trouble.

“Oikawa!” Wataru’s shout cut through the roaring and sent a sharp pain through his head. As quickly as it left, the roaring in his ears returned and with it, his vision completely blacked out. It took all his effort to call out for help.

“Iwa-cha—“ the sound got caught in his throat and his body crumpled to the floor.

The next thing he knew, Oikawa was staring at the ceiling. He blinked a few times and groaned. The lights beaming down on him reminded him of the migraine he definitely had and he shivered. Why was he on the ground?

“Tooru? Oh thank god,” Iwa’s face entered his field of vision (and blocked the light, thankfully). His voice was shaking and desperate, adding to Oikawa’s confusion.

“Iwa-chan?” He said feebly.

“Are you okay? What hurts? Fuck, Tooru. You scared the shit out of me,” Iwaizumi was frantic, his hands cupping Oikawa’s face, making the sick boy cringe. Touching was no good. He didn’t want that right now.

The corners of Iwaizumi’s mouth pulled down and his eyebrows scrunched. He moved one of his hand’s to Oikawa’s forehead and the other to his own. His eyes blew wide.

“Holy shit, Tooru! Why didn’t you tell anyone you were sick, dumbass?”

Oh. He’d been caught.

“Would you believe me if I told you I didn’t know?” He smiled weakly up at his best friend, who scoffed in return.

“Idiot,” he mumbled before turning his head towards somewhere above Oikawa. The lights pierced Oikawa’s vision and he moaned when his head pulsated. He tried to curl up, but Iwaizumi was already trying to get him standing.

“Coach, he’s got a fever,” Iwaizumi shouted across the gym and Oikawa’s knees buckled. Luckily, Iwa’s arms were securely around his waist.

“I’m gonna take him to the club room and call one of our moms to come pick us up. Do you need me here?”

“No, go take care of our idiot captain,” their coach responded, his arms crossed over his chest. Normally, Oikawa would’ve squaked at the insult, but it was taking all of his attention to stay awake.

“We got this man. Go handle the child,” Makki snickered.

“Mean, Makki,” Oikawa managed to whine as he and Iwa stumbled out of the gym.

By the time they got back to the club room, Oikawa was sweating profusely, panting, and leaning almost all of his weight on Iwaizumi.

Iwa led them to the back of the clubroom and guided them down to sit against the wall. Oikawa shivered and immediately curled into Iwa’s side.

“How the hell did you let it get so bad, Shittykawa,” Iwa questioned. His tone held more concern than malice and it settled Oikawa’s nerves ever so slightly.

“Mmm, so warm Iwa-chan,” was all Oikawa could respond with. Iwaizumi scoffed, but threw an arm around Oikawa’s shoulder and pulled him closer anyway. The setter smiled.

“Yo, who should I call?” Iwaizumi asked, his tone still lacking its normal gruffness.

“Everyone in my family is working right now, Iwa-chan. No one is going to pick up,” Oikawa said. His throat was getting sore now. That means he’s sick sick. He frowned. Another shiver shot up his spine.

Iwa sighed, “okay. I’ll call my mom. She won’t be able to get here for at least half an hour though. Will you be okay until then? We can take the bus if you want.”

Oikawa nuzzled into Iwa’s shoulder. The smallest hints of his cologne were still present, despite getting sweaty from practice.

“No. No bus. We’ll want for Auntie, if that’s okay with you?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll call her.”

“I’m sorry, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa yawned. His eyes started drifting closed. Man, did a nap sound perfect right now.

“Don’t apologize, Tooru. Just scared me,” Iwa muttered and Oikawa felt the ace’s nose nuzzle into the top of his head. He relaxed further, in spite of the chills running through his body.

“Get some rest. I’ll wake you when my mom gets here,” Iwa whispered and Oikawa couldn’t remember the last time he sounded so soft. At least towards him anyway. Iwaizumi pulled Oikawa down gently so the setter’s head was pillowed on his lap.

Oikawa fell asleep to Iwaizumi’s gentle hands carding through his hair.

[ilguna]

Anteric - Chapter Three (f.o)

summary: secrets have more worth than you gave them credit for.

warnings; swearing, BLOOD MENTION, FIGHTING, MENTION OF MURDER, GUN USE.

wc; 10k

NOTES; I give reader a last name to fit the world.

–

“There are two things that you will learn today.” It turns out that Laurel can be loud when she wants to be. Her voice projects across the room with little to no effort, “The first is how to shoot a gun.” she presses one into your palm and keeps walking, “The second is how to win a fight.”

The gun isn’t as heavy as it looks. You turn it over in your hand, thumb running over the sleek metal. When you look up, you can see that Finnick is mesmerised by it. You can’t decide whether or not that’s a good thing. At least neither of you are afraid of it, but you don’t think that you should be idolizing it. Then again, you probably shouldn’t underestimate it, either.

You suppose that you and Finnick will fit in just fine here. As long as Finnick doesn’t get too caught up in his dream, and you don’t keep overthinking it. It’s just a gun. 

“Initiation is divided into three stages! Like Caspian told you last night, we will measure and rank you depending on your performance in each stage. The stages are not all weighed equally in determining your final rank. So, it is possible to be at the bottom and wind up at the top. Don’t be fooled, it will not be an easy task to do.

“In Dauntless, we believe that preparation eliminates cowardice, which we define as the failure to act in the midst of fear. So, each stage of initiation will prepare you in a different way. Your first stage will be physical, your next will be emotional, and the third and final stage, will be mental.” Laurel stops pacing for a moment, turning to look at you all.

Finnick leans over, “How far do you think you can push your streak?”

“Hitting the target dead-on first try is like expecting a cold gust of wind in hell when it’s summer.”

Finnick snorts.

“I’ll show you how it’s done. And then you will practice until lunch.” Laurel says, turning toward the side of the room with the targets. They’re just squares of plywood with red circles on it. She spreads her legs slightly, holds up the gun away from her face, concentrates, and doesn’t hesitate when she fires. She gets the middle of the circle in the blink of an eye.

If she could do this, you wonder if everyone else inside of the faction can, too. This initiation process has been around for years. It just evolves the more that time goes on because of technology. So, every adult that you have come across so far, should technically know how to shoot. You don’t know whether to be afraid or not.

Finnick rubs his ear with an open palm after the sound of Laurel’s gun. It’s loud, you can feel it in your chest. You’re sure that it’ll only get worse, now that you’re all left to give it a try by yourselves.

“Do you think that you’ll be able to hit the bullseye?” you ask, barely glancing at Finnick.

You copy the way that Laurel had stood. You spread your legs apart a little, hold the gun away from your face, and point it straight at the target. As far as you can see, it should be lined up perfectly. But that’s not taking everything into consideration. You’ve never fired a gun before, and you’ve never seen it happen until now, when Laurel had used hers.

This is new to you. The chances of you actually being able to do this is one in a thousand. Unless you’re some sort of prodigy, which you highly doubt. Just because you’ve qualified for three factions, doesn’t mean you need to go inflating your own ego. You’re just the same as everyone here. Maybe a little better, personality-wise.

“You go first.” Finnick says, catching the attention of Thyme. She lowers her gun to watch too.

“Why me?” you whine, closing one eye to see if you can line it up better. No matter what happens, this is going to miss. It’s just a matter of whether or not you come close.

It’s worth a try.

You breathe in your nose a little when you pull the trigger, already flinching even before the recoil hits. The bang is loud enough to pop your ears, you end up with a wince on your face, arms sore. When you look back at the wood, you expect to see the bullet far away from the middle. In fact, maybe somewhere not near the target at all.

But the hole is on the second red circle, to the right.

A shot of energy goes through you, making you bounce on your toes excitedly.

“At this rate, you’re not going to have anything to worry about.” Finnick says, “I might have to keep my eye on you.”

“Yeah?” you ask, “Let’s see you give it a go.”

He gives you a boyish smile, Thyme backs off slightly. Finnick seems to have the form down, he holds the gun up and away from his face. The smile eventually fades from his face as he begins to focus. By the time he pulls the trigger, he’s gritting his teeth.

You try not to flinch this time. When you look at his aim, it’s better than yours. More than halfway to the circle that surrounds the center. You light up, elbowing him with a smile, “Hey! You’re better than me.”

It goes on like this for the rest of the morning. Round after round, you shoot bullet after bullet. All of them slowly inch towards the middle, but it takes a lot longer than you’d expect it to. By Finnick’s second round, he hit the middle three times in a row before finally falling off the streak.

You relax for a moment, rolling your shoulders. You know how you stood the first time you did it, and you think back to how Laurel had stood. She was relaxed, right at home. She can afford to be, though. She’s done this for years, she was taught how to shoot guns a while ago. You’re just learning.

You need to take it slower. 

You roll your wrists next, letting them ache when you get to a certain point. Finnick fires again, hitting the board. Two inches off the middle. Thyme fires and she’s still on the outer circle. Finnick fires again, he hits the middle. This will be you. You crack your neck.

“Okay.” you breathe, holding the gun up again. You spread your legs, relax your shoulders, and bend your arms a little. You place your finger over the trigger, and take in a small breath.

When you pull, the bullet hits the right side of the circle.

You adjust to fit what you need. Just a couple of centimeters to the left, you pull the trigger again. It’s too far over, you shift one more time. This is it, the last bullet before you have to call it a day today. You don’t know if you’ll ever get a second chance at this.

You pull the trigger hard, prepared for the recoil. 

The bullet sits directly in the middle.

A breath of relief leaves you. You’re not a total failure after all.

Laurel makes you all stand in a line, handing over your guns while she counts them. There must have been times in the past where initiates tried to hoard guns, you can’t see why she’d need to do it otherwise. When the number comes out to eight, you’re allowed to head over to the dining hall.

Finnick is giddy, of course, that he’s caught on to shooting so well. You decide that you’d much rather listen than actively participate in the conversation. You think that it would be easier to swallow if it weren’t for the fact that Thyme is literally asking him for advice, as if he has any to give. It was his first time shooting, does she think you guys do these types of things for fun?

Gun use in Abnegation is frowned upon. Not only is it a weapon, which resorts to violence. It’s also used as self defense, therefore it’s self-indulgent. If Reed could see you now, he’d be all sorts of pissed. He’d say something along the lines of, “Mom and dad raised you better than this.”

If they were still here, you’re sure that would have been a good enough excuse to stay in Abnegation. You think that Mox wouldn’t have left either. But it’s hard to stick to a place with so much negative energy. The more the years come on, the more Reed seems to sink into this hole of hatred. 

The dining hall is less crowded this afternoon, it’s easy pickings for where you want to sit. You pick the middle of a table, and then stare at the food that’s offered for you, debating whether or not you’re hungry. Finnick sits beside you, and seems to do the exact same thing.

“I was kidding yesterday.” he mutters, you think he’s referring to the chicken comment.

“This is all your fault.” you say, giving him a smile.

You grab a small portion of food at a table, not wanting to overdo it. Finnick does the same, and you’re glad to finally see that the gun conversation has ceased. He turns toward you to talk, leaving Thyme out to a certain extent. You can’t say that you feel bad for her. She’s been talking to him all morning, it’s only right that it’s your turn.

“What do you think’s next?” he asks, eating a forkful of carrots.

“Well, Laurel did say that we’d be learning how to win a fight.” you push the food around on your plate. None of it looks appetizing anymore, “I don’t think you really need to learn that, do you?”

In Abnegation, you never watched Finnick lose a fight. This boy has got more power than any of the Erudite and Dauntless kids that he fought. Sometimes, all it took was one punch and the other teenager would go down like a sack of flour. It’s pretty impressive when you’re not the one fighting him. You can’t imagine what it’s like being on the other end, though.

“Probably not, but it never hurts to learn it properly.” Finnick smiles, “And it’ll give you a chance to perfect your form.”

You give him a look. It was one time.

Last night, Caspian wasn’t kidding about where you’d be staying. However, he could’ve at least gave you a little more information about what it would be like so that you didn’t have to figure it out for yourself. He said that there’s ten beds inside of the room, which is correct, but technically they’re bunk beds.

Also, there’s absolutely no privacy anywhere. Not in the main room, where all the beds sit just mere feet from each other. And not in the bathroom, there’s absolutely no stalls. But don’t worry, there’s mirrors in there!

None of this would bother you, if it weren’t for the fact that you’re all sleeping in the same room together. Finnick chose the bottom bunk, you went ahead and picked the top. To his direct right is Thyme, who’s also sleeping on the bottom. And everyone else is scattered in their own corners, too.

Oh, which reminds you, you’ve finally got names to put to every face. The Erudite girl that died yesterday, her name is Elodia. She was apparently best friends with the other Erudite girl, Trink. The two Candor initiates that Trink has been inseparable from is Eytelle, the girl, and Allio, the boy. As for the other two Candor initiates, there’s Ossie, another girl, and Amos, another boy. So, there’s three boys and five girls. 

Anyway, since you’re all staying in the same room, you were able to hear the exact moment when Thyme bursted out crying. And that’s not the part that really gets to you. You can kinda sympathize with them for being upset over the fact that they might have chosen the worst faction to go for, even if their aptitude test thought that they’d be prepared for it.

No, the part you hated the most last night was the fact that the crying went on for over ten minutes. And right when Thyme had begun to settle down, getting quieter, someone else started crying. It wasn’t Finnick, but you have a feeling it was one of the other girls. Maybe Trink, because she lost her friend. Or possibly Ossie, because she doesn’t exactly look the type to be in Dauntless in the first place.

Then again, all of them can be full of surprises, you don’t know. What you do know, is that if it happens again tonight, you might just smother everyone with a pillow and decide to be the sole surviving transfer initiate from your Choosing Ceremony. It’ll eliminate the worry of not being able to pass the stages, and you’ll actually get a good night of sleep.

You might spare Finnick.

When Laurel decides that you’re all done eating, she brings you to a new room. This one is large, with a wooden floor that’s cracked and has a large white circle painted in the middle. On the far left wall is a chalkboard, with all of your names written in alphabetical order. From top to bottom, it goes: Allio, yourself, Eytelle, Trink, Amos, Elodia, Finnick and then Thyme. 

On another side of the room hangs black punching bags. Laurel has you line up behind them, she takes her time going to the middle so you all can see her, “Like I said this morning, you’ll be learning how to fight. The reason for this is to prepare you to act; to get you used to responding to threats and challenges. Which are instincts you’ll need, if you intend to live in Dauntless.

“We will go over techniques today, and tomorrow you will start to fight each other.” The talking between initiates stops, taking in what she said. All you can think about is every time you watched Finnick give a Dauntless teenager a black eye. You wonder how many of them chose to stay in Dauntless, “I’m glad I finally got your attention. If I were you, I’d pay attention today. Those of you who aren’t quick learners will wish you were. Like this morning, I’ll show you how it’s done, and then you’ll practice until six.”

Every punch she shows you, has a name. She’ll demonstrate it in the air first, and then she’ll punch a bag. Following are kicks, which she seems to have more power for. Every time she lands a hit on the punching bag, it’ll spin and rock, you think you can even see dust streaming down from the ceiling.

When it’s your turn to give it a try, you keep it in rotation. You’ll go through all the punches first, and then the kicks. You start over a couple of times, wanting to get your form and position down first. It’ll be the most important part of tomorrow. There’s eight of you, no one will be excluded from the fighting. And if you’re unsure of where you told your hands or where to place your feet, you’re going to be screwed.

The hitting gets harder once you think you can afford to try new combinations. A kick with a punch, maybe the other way around if it feels too uncomfortable. The longer you have at the punching bag, the more you realize just how fun it is. At first, it was unnatural, you’ve only thrown a couple of punches before. But now it seems like second-nature. 

“Very good, (Y/n).” Laurel says, passing behind you, “Lower your fists from your face a little, and it’ll be perfect.”

You follow what she says. She’s right, this was the only thing that you were missing. When you throw punches from now on, it’s much easier. By the time six rolls around, your skin is sore and you can’t help but to rub your shins. They’re definitely going to be bruised somewhat. At least it’s not impossible to deal with.

“Laurel says we can go anywhere.” Finnick says, bumping his arm into yours on purpose, “Anywhere.”

“Is it possible to eat dinner first?” you ask, massaging your hands, “You can drag me around after that.”

“Hungry?”

“Mostly hoping that dinner is better than what they served us for lunch.” you give him a smile.

He grins back.

Dinner is much better. Soup, beef, carrots, potatoes, onions. You take your time eating, watching as Finnick has serving after serving. He’s lucky that there’s no limit as to how much you can eat. But he should probably show some more self-restraint, considering whatever he wants to do after this, might cause him to get sick. You eat two bowls before you call it good, while Finnick is just finishing up his seventh.

“Full yet?” you muse.

“I was mostly trying to figure out what I want to do.” Finnick sets his bowl on top of yours, collecting your spoon so that it can sit with his, “And I figured it out.”

“What is it?” Thyme asks, she’s leaning in slightly on the other side of the table.

There’s a mischievous grin that crosses over his face, “Piercings.”

“Oh,” Thyme falls back.

You snort, sliding out of the table, “What’re you going to get pierced?”

“My nose, probably.” Finnick joins you, “And then we can all go shopping.”

This morning, Laurel had provided everyone with clothing. Mostly practical stuff, like jeans, shirts, underwear, jackets, shoes, whatever. It’s all in black, naturally. But the only fitting clothing on you right now is the underwear. As for the shirts, jeans and shoes, they’re a bit bigger than you’d like them to be. It could also be another reason why it’s throwing off your groove.

Of course, this isn’t just a you problem, it’s an everyone problem. Finnick is wearing a shirt that’s a little too tight-fitting than he likes. If he pulls on the fabric, it snaps right back into place. Thyme’s jeans needed a shoelace to keep them up high enough. As for all the other initiates, they ended up in their own problems. You think that Eytelle, the tall Candor girl, is wearing clown shoes.

“Sure.” you agree.

The three of you leave the dining hall to go out to the Pit, which is currently crammed with, what looks like, the entire Dauntless population. You let Finnick lead the way up the narrow paths, and straight to a tattoo-piercing parlor. Every month, Dauntless gives everyone a certain amount of points they can use a month that works like cash.

Finnick talks to a guy at the counter with multiple piercings in his ears, and ones that make his earlobe stretch out far enough that you can see through the earring. Finnick points out a spot on his nose, the guy will say something back, until they seem to come to an agreement. Finnick turns to look at you and Thyme.

“Coming in?” he wiggles his eyebrows, “I know Thyme won’t get a tattoo or piercing, but what about you?” 

You give him a face, “I’ll think about it next time.”

“Chicken.” Finnick sings, backing into the parlor.

You purse your lips, watching as his face slowly gets more smug, “Fine, give me one good reason.”

“Because you still walk and talk like a Stiff.” Finnick says.

His eyebrows are raised, he knows that he’s won it. Stiff is a term, normally derogatory, used towards Abnegation faction members because of how stuck-up you are--or, were. There’s a lot of restrictions in Abnegation. Piercings, tattoos and brightly colored hair is self-indulgent. Talking loudly, laughing, or even playing games is distracting. Hell, even relationships are frowned upon, not supposed to be public because they’re nuisances. 

Finnick is wrong on some parts. You don’t talk like you’re in Abnegation, otherwise your voice would be hushed whispers and you wouldn’t laugh like the rest of these people. You didn’t complain about the guns, or defending yourself. You didn’t cry last night because you were afraid. You even pushed through things that you’re normally afraid of to fit right in.

The other parts are much more difficult. You think of yourself as a chameleon. Before all of this, before you had switched factions, you also seemed to fit in just fine as an Abnegation member. You said so yourself. But now you’re in Dauntless, you’re fitting in too. You wonder what it would have been like in Erudite, how easy it would have been for you to blend in there too.

The obvious reason for this is the Divergence.

And Laurel told you not to stand out. It’s dangerous. You don’t want to know what she meant by that exactly. All you have to do now, is make sure that it doesn’t happen again. You’ll have to do better at making yourself hidden.

You give Finnick a smile, heading towards the parlor.

“Hey--wait!” Thyme grabs your arm, stopping you from going, “I thought me and you could go shopping while we wait for him.”

“You know you can get your ears pierced, right?” you ask her, grabbing her wrist and pulling her with you, “One baby step at a time.”

Inside of the parlor, you’re matched with a different guy. You settle on a nose stud, thanks to his suggestion. You’re mostly worried about what might happen to it starting tomorrow. With a ring, like Finnick’s getting, there’s more of a chance of it getting ripped out. The stud will still sparkle in light, and it won’t be as irritating. Thyme goes ahead and gets both of her ears pierced on the lobe.

Walking out, Finnick’s nose is still bleeding. Thyme looks happy with her silver flowers, and you resist the urge to itch the new wound on your face. Thyme brings you and Finnick to a store that she’d been eyeing for a while. Honestly, you can’t tell the difference between any of it. One black clothing store to another. It’s all just as bland as the grey Abnegation clothing.

You find high-waisted skinny jeans, throwing them over your arm. You pick out a shirt that looks like it’s your size, and disappear into a changing room to make sure it fits. All clothing back home is baggy, in Dauntless it’s supposed to stick to your skin. Before, size didn’t matter when it came to clothes, only that it didn’t get in the way of your volunteer work. 

Surprisingly, you picked out the right size the first time around. The jeans feel comfy on your hips, the sleeves of the shirt are fairly loose and don’t cut off circulation in your arms. You pay for it with your points, and then go right back to hunting for tennis shoes. 

Finnick finds his clothes soon after, joining you on a bench while you go through shoe boxes. Thyme goes in and out of the dressing room, not being able to find a pair of jeans that fit. It’s comical, watching her pace the aisles. Eventually she gives up and has to ask for help. 

You stand from the bench, kicking the shoes around, bending and walking in them. They fit well, and there’s space at the top so that your toes aren’t crammed. You pay for the shoes too, Finnick buys everything that he’s wearing. The two of you dump your clothes in separate black bags, you suggested wearing them to bed so that you won’t have to genuinely live in these clothes.

As soon as Thyme is done, the three of you head back to the room.

“Who do you think we’ll be paired up with tomorrow?” Thyme asks, looking over to you two.

Finnick shrugs, and then gives you a glance.

“I have no clue, don’t look at me like that.”

“Except you’re really good at taking guesses.” Finnick says, “So guess.”

He’s wrong, you think. You’re not good at guessing, you’re good at narrowing down the possibilities and choosing the ones that seem most likely. And you keep doing it until you’re down to one solution. Which is definitely not an Abnegation response to problems, it’s an Erudite one. Finnick has unintentionally picked up on it.

You give out a sigh anyway, “Well, I think Laurel likes us enough, so she’ll start off easy and try to match us with people that are like us.” you look at him, “Good enough?”

“Good enough.” Finnick smiles.

--

When you got up this morning, the first order of business that Laurel had you doing was practicing shooting guns again. For several hours straight, you got to watch Finnick get better and better at hitting the middle. At first, you weren’t entirely bothered, but the irritation started to fester when Thyme kept praising him. You were too happy for it to be over, even after your aim improved considerably.

Now, you all stand together inside of the punching bag room from yesterday.Laurel stands in front of the chalkboard, smoothly writing on it. The only sound that fills the room is the sound of the chalk hitting the board as she writes your names down next to each other. She wasn’t lying when she said that the real initiation would start today.

Last night you said Laurel might like you enough to pair you with someone that would be easy to beat. You’re not as confident anymore. Caspian stands off to the side of the room, watching Laurel. You might have been happy to see a familiar face in Dauntless two days ago, but you haven’t forgotten the things that Caspian said to you when you were a kid. It’s impossible to, all he did was add to your growing hatred.

As far as you can tell at the moment, Caspian is almost the same guy he was before he switched to Dauntless. Before, he was mean, thought he was funny, and convinced himself that he was the shit. He has his moments where he can genuinely be likeable, but it’s always some sort of honeymoon faze. He can ruin it as fast as you can snap your fingers. And he’s good at hiding that mean side of his personality, but it can show out in little bits and pieces. Like sunshine peeking through clouds.

“Lucky for all of you, no one has to sit out.” Laurel says, she’s finishing up.

Finnick spins the nose ring with his thumb, you shove your hands into your pockets to keep from digging your nails into your palm, Thyme rocks back and forth on her feet.

“Which means hardly any days off.” Laurel places the chalk onto the metal stand, and then moves out of the way.

You suck in air through your teeth, eyes going over the list. It’s short, only four rows.

Allio and Ossie.

Thyme and Amos.

Eytelle and Finnick.

You and Trink.

“Oh great, you’re paired with an asshole.” Finnick says, referencing the nickname you two gave Erudite’s on the train here, yesterday. “You’ll get to kick her ass before I do.”

Caspian definitely organized this, Laurel might have had some say in it. You can see the strategy here. Allio and Ossie are similar in height, but different in personality, weight and muscle. Thyme and Amos are both pretty short and scrawny, Eytelle is taller than Finnick, but they’re the only ones close in height. The only reason why you think you’re paired with Trink is because of height.

You look at Caspian, he’s already staring at you. His face is straight for a moment, before his lip twitches into a smirk.

No, you change your mind. Height was a coincidence with her. There’s more behind this, more secretive, and you think it has layers. The first is obvious, this is a gift from Caspian. You told him about his family back home, offering up the information without a single question or prompt from him. You even made it sound like they were part of your family.

The second layer is more subtle. Caspian might not have been great with Abnegation ideals, much like Finnick, but you all have a soft spot for the place you called home for years. Caspian doesn’t like that Erudite is talking shit about Abnegation, but he can’t say anything about it. There’s no question that you don’t like what’s happening either. And since he can’t punch the smug Erudite look off of Trink’s face, you have to. 

More or less, you’ll get to defend Abnegation’s honor by kicking Trink’s ass. 

This time, Caspian’s wrath isn’t being focused on you. Trink isn’t even going to know what hit her. Well, she will. You’ll be the one hitting her.

You look over at Trink, not being able to hide the smile on your face, “At least you get to pick on someone your own size. Enjoy the challenge while you can.”

Finnick lets out a laugh.

Ossie and Allio meet each other in the center of the white circle. They raise their fists up, and shuffle in a circle like you were taught to. When Allio realizes that Ossie isn’t going to make the first move, he jerks forward to punch her. It was a ruse, Ossie moves out of the way and slams her elbow into the back of his neck.

Okay, maybe Ossie isn’t as weak as you thought she would be. You, Finnick and Thyme watch the way she moves, how easy she’s able to dodge his attacks. Allio is clumsy on his feet, Ossie can dance circles around him, and she practically does, with how quick she moves. However, the moment that Allio gets one good hit on her, she’s down.

She lays on her back, hand spread over her cheek as she grimaces. Her face is turning red, you can’t imagine the tooth pain she’s having at the moment. You all look at Laurel and Caspian to see that they’re unmoving from the board.

“Shouldn’t they call it?” Finnick leans over, whispering.

You tilt your head, “I think we just unlocked a new rule.”

You’re right, Caspian shifts on his feet and lets out an annoyed sigh through his nose, “The fight isn’t over until one of you can’t move!”

“Or you can give up and suffer the consequences.” Judging by the tone of Laurel’s voice, it isn’t much of an option.

This is worse than it was before. You thought that enough punches to Trink’s face would knock her down, and the fight would be over. But if you’re going to be beating each other to near death…

Allio turns back on Ossie, a smile growing on his face. She sees his expression and gets to her feet. Her face is already swelling, you can imagine that there’s going to be a pretty bad bruise on her face tomorrow. She raises her fists again, and goes right back to what she was doing before. Except, she’s clearly trying to piss Allio off. She’ll look like she’s going all in, and then she'll pull back in time for Allio to make a fool of himself.

Her antics get her in trouble, though, because all it takes is one bad move, and Allio grabs a hold of her throat, stopping her in her tracks. She grabs his wrist with one hand, raising her foot to kick him in the stomach with the other. Allio barely flinches, lifts her, and then slams her into the wood ground.

A crack fills the air.

Allio’s heavy breathing is the only thing that you can hear. 

When Ossie doesn’t immediately get up, or even turn over, Laurel starts forward. Caspian’s arms are crossed, he watches as she kneels next to Ossie. Her fingers barely touch the floor, and she’s immediately recoiling. Laurel stares down at her hand, and you can see in the light, that it’s shiny.

“He cracked her head open.” you say.

Laurel seems to come to that conclusion too, because she wraps her arm around Ossie’s back, and then under her legs. Laurel rocks back and forth, raising from her shins, to her knees, to her feet. Caspian gives one nod to Laurel before she walks out. Then, she turns towards the chalkboard.

He circles Allio’s name in white.

“Thyme and Amos!” Caspian shouts.

“What about the blood?” Amos asks, moving forward. Thyme is still stuck to the other side of Finnick.

Caspian makes a sound, and it isn’t one of discontent. More that he’s realizing that the blood will end up being a problem. So, he pulls the towel off of the chalkboard stand, and throws it at Amos. Amos barely catches it, stares down at the black towel, and then drops it on the pool of blood. It isn’t much, Ossie had only been laying there for a few seconds. When he’s sure that it’s dried up enough, Amos kicks the towel across the room to get it out of the way.

“I can’t do this.” Thyme says, her voice is quiet.

“You have to.” Finnick gives her a push, “The two of you are practically the same, just use what you learned yesterday.”

It’s easy for Finnick to say that, he’s excited to get put up against Eytelle. You can tell by the way he shifts on his feet, plus the smile hasn’t left his face since he learned that he’d be going up against her. Finnick loves a challenge.

Thyme hangs her head slightly, but joins Amos in the circle. For a moment, they stare at each other, unsure if either of them want to commit to this. Then, Thyme raises her fists, tilts her head, and starts shuffling. Amos follows her, slowly drawing closer.

You bite the nail on your thumb, “So what’s your strategy going to be?”

“Probably going to knock her out as fast as possible. I think it’ll land me directly on top.” Finnick gives you a grin.

“We’re still aiming for a streak?” 

“I think we blew it during the gun training.” Finnick laughs, you join in.

Thyme jerks forward, bringing her leg up to slam into Amos’ side. 

“What’s your strategy?” 

You tilt your head, “Probably going to draw it out as long as possible. It’s my only chance to kick the shit out of an Erudite so I figure that I’ll make the most out of it.”

“I’m sure Caspian and Laurel will be thrilled.”

Amos reaches to grab Thyme’s hair, but she slams her fist straight into his nose. He stumbles back, hands flying to contain the blood that’s beginning to gush out. Amos’ eyes widen, landing on Thyme. She raises her fists, you can see the ghost of a smile..

After this, he continuously backs away from Thyme. She doesn’t look like she’s bothered by this, she just keeps getting closer. And the moment he’s within arms reach, is the moment he messed up. She jumps at him, grabbing his shirt, which hangs off his body loosely. You bet that he didn’t bother to go out and get a new shirt or clothes last night. Hopefully this will teach him a lesson. That he’s easily grabbable when the clothes don’t fit.

She yanks Amos forward, spins him around and sweeps a foot out from beneath him. Amos hits the ground almost as hard as Ossie did, but he’s still conscious. Thyme raises her foot, kicking Amos in the ribs. He groans, one arm flying to protect the spot, while the other goes to catch her new kick. 

She changes her mind last second, dropping to her knees and raising her fist so quickly that it’s a blur. Amos raises his arms to protect his face, so she settles for a dead-on hit to his chest. You let out a groan, feeling the ache in your own chest. Amos wheezes, Thyme punches him in the face. Over and over.

The sounds coming from Amos are less than pleasant.

“That’s going to be you.” Finnick says.

“Yeah?” you ask, but don’t say anything else. 

You don’t even want to know if he means that you’re going to be Thyme, or if you’re going to be Amos. Although, you’re not really sure that it matters. Either you’ll lose yourself to the fight, or you’re going to get the shit kicked out of you.

Thyme falls back on her heels, rubbing her bloody knuckles. She lifts the end of her shirt, all eyes fall on Caspian to see what he has to say. He stares at Amos for a little, Thyme pushes herself to her feet.

“Get him out of the ring.” Caspian finally says, circling Thyme’s name.

Allio and Thyme work together, getting Amos upright. He doesn’t stay on his feet for long, as soon as he’s out of the circle, he’s sitting on the floor. He’s sniffing, which might be from him crying, or it might be him trying to get his nose to stop bleeding. You’re not sure if it really matters which one it is.

“Eytelle and Finnick.” Caspian motions.

There’s no blood to clean up this time. You give Finnick a firm pat on the back, “Kick some ass.”

Thyme stands next to you, her fingers massaging the skin over her knuckles. If she thinks it hurts now, it’s only going to feel worse tomorrow. Not to mention, if you’re going to be doing this multiple times for evaluation, all of your knuckles are going to be split and sore. You can’t imagine the amount of injuries you’ll experience during initiation

You’re going for none, but it’s not all that realistic.

Finnick cracks his knuckles, the smile on his face disappears, “You know, I’ve never fought a Candor before. They always whine like bitches.” he raises his fists, “So tell me, are you going to cry?”

Eytelle isn’t amused, she raises her fists, “I’m taller than you.”

“You think height matters?” Finnick’s face darkens, “It’s a matter of experience.”

And he has too much for a former Abnegation member.

Finnick bounces on his toes, watching the way Eytelle moves. She’s clearly eager, moving forward. But the moment he goes to match her, she seems to back down. She’s wary. You guess that she’s taking Finnick’s word for it all, which isn’t a bad idea. You think that you’d rather take the word of the other person just to be safe. Then again, it could make you be overly cautious in the end.

There’s only so much dancing that Finnick can take. He stops letting Eytelle take the initiative and starts moving at her like a shark. Because of the smooth way he moves, you can’t tell what he’s going to do next. He could punch her, or kick her, or jump at her. He doesn’t twitch. This is the side of Finnick that you’re always so amazed at.

All of his moves are calculated. He’ll move right, and appear on the left. He slams his fist into the shoulder she favors more. She winces, rolling the shoulder to get feeling back in it. When she holds up her hands, it’s awkward now. Finnick strikes again, this time going for her upper arm, which falls completely limp.

It’ll be hard to punch him if she can’t feel the arm at all.

Eytelle goes to punch with her left hand anyway. Finnick catches her wrist, twisting her arm at a painful angle. Finnick pulls her closer, and slams his fist right across her jaw. Her head jerks backward, a gurgle sound leaving her throat. Finnick does it again, much harder this time. It’s enough to make her knees buckle.

He lets go of her, letting her hit the floor. Eytelle doesn’t move.

Finnick wipes his hands off on his jeans, and then fixes his hair. You’d say that this fight lasted less than five minutes. Faster than Ossie and Allio, and faster than Thyme and Amos. When it’s your turn, you’re going to make sure it’s painful. 

Caspian goes ahead and circles Finnick’s name.

A couple of seconds later, Eytelle groans, which means that no one will have to drag her out of the ring, but Allio and Trink go to help her anyway. Eytelle vaguely complains about being dizzy, so she sits on the floor too, hand placed over her jaw. 

The door on the far side of the room opens to reveal Laurel. She comes in without Ossie, so you figure that she’s either with some sort of doctor. Normally, hospitals are far away, but it’s Dauntless. They have to have someone closeby, especially with the cave that they live in.

She stands in her spot by the chalkboard.

“(Y/n) and Trink.”

Finnick grabs your arm, turning you away from the circle to speak, “You probably remember, but keep an eye on the way she moves. She’s also Erudite, so she’s got a hundred strategies or whatever.”

He straightens up, “Alright, good luck, wreak havoc.”

You snort. On the way to the circle, you crack everything that you can think of. Fingers, neck, knuckles. You stretch your muscles next, shoulders, wrist, knees and ankles. You’ve only fought someone else once. Once.

“Scared?” Trink asks, she lets a lock of her blonde hair fall black into place.

You bend your knees back and forth, raising your fists, “Don’t need to be. I know a couple of things myself.”

You give her a smirk.

Trink raises her fists, “You’re bluffing.”

“We’ll see.”

In Abnegation, Finnick was always the one to get physical with people he didn’t like at the school. Most of the time, he wouldn’t immediately turn to fighting. But if the situation kept getting worse, and the person didn’t notice all the warning signs that were coming from him, he’d resort to it easily. Corner them in the hallway, and tell them that if they want to run their mouth, then they can reap what they sow. People were always stupid enough to see what he meant.

You said that the rules of fighting were simple, and the first one was to always make sure that there were no witnesses. Except, Finnick would always bring you. You would be his alibi if he needed it, and the excuse would automatically be a factionless man needing help, that’s why you were late getting home. You only used the excuse once.

So, you’ll have to say that you’ve seen Finnick fight many times. You’ve watched the way he throws punches, the way he holds himself with confidence. How he’ll never give away his moves before he does them. It’s like they’re all thought out beforehand. He doesn’t want to drag a fight on, there’s only so much time the excuse can cover. In watching him, you’ve learned a lot.

Eventually, an opportunity of your own sprouted, and it happened right after your father died, which was only a couple of months after your mother had passed. Mox had just switched to Amity, so that was buzzing around. And an Erudite girl caught whiff of the problems that were being kicked up in your house. You don’t know how she found out any of it, but whoever told her was a fucking asshole.

The girl started with talking shit about Abnegation, about how the faction raised your brother to be weak, and that’s why he couldn’t say. You weren’t bothered by this, you had already grown used to not speaking about Mox. You wouldn’t break your streak just because some girl thought it would be fun to start talking shit. Even Finnick didn’t think that it was worth worrying over. The two of you thought she would stop.

But then her focus shifted to your father. 

In Abnegation, you are supposed to serve the people around you. In the eyes of the faction, your father died a death that was noble. It was not through war, but in a moment of kindness, of a helping hand. Your father had stopped to help one of the factionless, and in turn, they killed him. 

They never found the killer.

The Erudite girl was right in thinking that it would get a quick reaction out of you, because it did. Finnick was the one who told the girl where to meet you. All you did was go out there and wait, with Finnick leaned up against some tree in the shade.

Before she arrived, you had no intention of actually fighting her. You were going to tell her to knock it the fuck off before she did something she would regret. Then she showed up with this smug ass look on her face, and all reason washed away from your  body at once. 

Unlike Finnick, you only needed to fight once. 

You left the girl bloody and swollen, laying in the middle of the grass, barely able to keep her eyes open. For a moment, you stood over her body, staring down at her, wondering if anything really needed to be said. But your actions spoke for themself, that she had picked a fight she couldn’t win. You left her there, walked home with Finnick, and the next day at school, you didn’t see her. 

In all honesty, you never had trouble with anyone after that, either.

There’s a big difference between now and then, though. Then, you were pissed and you had a great reason to be. Now, you’re fighting just because someone is telling you. 

No, you have a good reason now, too. You don’t want to be factionless. Trink is one of the many obstacles standing in your way to becoming a member of Dauntless. You think that’s a good enough reason.

You bounce from side to side, feeling the burn in your calves. Finnick said that Trink would have a thousand strategies thought up because she’s Erudite. But you’re part Erudite too, you could have qualified if you wanted to. So, in order to win this, you need to think like she does, even more so than usual.

You told her you know a few things yourself, she’s going to assume that you learned from Finnick, or the two of you often work together when it comes to fights. Which is wrong. Finnick likes his fights to be clean cuts, the faster he knocks out his opponent, the faster he can do something else. It’s also a display of dominance, one hit and his victim falls. The person is never stupid enough to come back twice. 

Finnick let Eytelle start the fight. So, you will be the one to start this.

You move forward, letting the smile go. You need to focus.

Trink shuffles, her left hand is raised higher than the right. She’s left handed, which means you shouldn’t focus on her right. It also looks like she was suffering the same problem that you were before Laurel corrected you. Her hands are too high. 

You keep moving closer, trying to keep your eyes on her face as much as you can. All you have to do is throw a punch at her left hand. It’ll smack her in the face, and then you can really get the show started.

Trink’s right leg twitches.

You jump back in time for it to barely miss you. Change of plans. You grab a hold of her leg, push it up, and swing down low enough to catch her other foot. She loses her balance, hands slapping onto the wood. She doesn’t say down long enough for you to kick her, right back onto her feet.

Her hands are back into place.

You launch at her, punching her hands. Her head knocks back briefly, you squeeze your fists tighter. She goes to retaliate, you block, and then swing your fist straight into her jaw. You’ve got to go harder than this. This isn’t bringing her down. She stumbles back, hands already going back to where they were before.

Trink moves quickly, you’re not able to catch her hands in time. One second, she’s slow, the next there’s an explosion across your nose. Pain prickles across your entire face, making your face feel like it’s a hundred degrees. And then there’s a gushing feeling.

You want to call a time-out as you back up, fingers finding your nose. You plead that it’s not broken, because you won’t be able to handle a crooked nose. It’ll throw you off beat. You’re lucky, because you find that it’s tender, your piercing is still in-tact, and the liquid rushing from your nose is obviously blood. It’s not enough to make you worry, only slightly distracting. You think that the piercing wound is contributing to the problem.

You wipe under your nose, and fling the blood towards the floor, lifting your hands up again. She’ll have to try harder than this to upset you.

There’s a couple of spots that you’re sure would get back at her. Her ribs, her nose, her teeth, her jaw, her eyes. You know that anything to her ear or the side of her head will immediately be enough for her to pause. You just need a way to get there. An opening.

Trink moves towards you now, and you let her. You’re not afraid of her punching you again. You want her to try. You keep where you are, only shuffling in the circle. One step closer, and then another. She could swing if she really wanted to. She must be going for something else. You’re not sure what, but does it really matter?

She barely brings her hand down. You dodge the attack, and then your hand hits her cheek bone. And then her jaw. She pushes you off of her, you bring your knee into her side, sweep her feet, and let her fall. You bring your foot back, hitting her stomach, and then her ribs. She’s not on her back just yet, not open enough for you to be on top of her.

Fine.

You swing your foot up towards her face, she’s not able to catch it in time. 

Her head flies back, shoulders hitting the wooden floor. 

The Erudite girl you fought a while back was in much worse condition than this.

The fight isn’t over. Trink brings herself to her elbows, eyes on your face, squinting. Her vision must be blurry. Unfortunately for her, it’s about to get so much worse. She’s still kicking, which means that you need to be too.

You slam your foot into her side, and then sit on top of her hips. You bring your fist up, watching the blood from your nose land onto her chin. Payback. First is her nose, bleeding. Next is straight to her mouth. After is her cheek, settling for a black eye. She goes to punch up once, aiming for your throat. You grab her arm and twist.

“Give up.” you tell her, twisting harder, “Give up!”

Her face is twisted in pain, mouth open as she pants. When you force it harder, she lets out a scream.

Half her body is twisted one way, her cheek pressed against the wooden floor. The other arm is pinned behind her, she wouldn’t be able to get it, even if she tried. You’ve got the upper hand.

You curl your hand into a fist, eyes landing on her temple, “Well, don’t say I didn’t give you a chance.”

Your fist hits the side of her head hard enough for your knuckles to feel like they’ve broken. The tension falls from Trink’s body, you let go of her arm. When you get to your feet, your immediate focus is your nose and the blood coming from it. You squeeze the bridge, tilting your head back slightly.

One look at Caspian, and he’s giving you a nod of approval. He circles your name.

You head toward Finnick and Thyme. In order from most to least damaged, you’re most, Thyme is in the middle, Finnick is least. There’s not a single scratch on him.

Before you can say anything, Finnick’s directing your chin up so that he can examine your face. You watch his eyebrows draw in, “Doesn’t look like it’s broken.”

“It hurts to move, obviously.” you say, “I think the piercing isn’t helping.”

“Probably not.” Finnick lets you free, “It could be worse, the stud could’ve ripped your nose open.”

You give him a smile.

“You were really good.” Thyme says, she’s still playing with her hands.

“Yeah, congrats!” Finnick grins, “Tapped into your raw power, huh?”

“That, and I’ve got a problem with Erudite’s.”

When you turn around to look, Trink is just barely turning over, a hiss leaving her lips. She presses her open hand to the side of her head and closes her eyes. Now her friends go to collect her. With Allio slinging one of Trink’s arms over his shoulder. Trink can hardly keep upright, leaning into him heavily.

Amos is finally on his feet, his nose no longer bleeding. Eytelle is still nursing her jaw, and you catch the glare that she’s giving Finnick. You crack up, elbow Finnick, and then jerk your head in their direction. Finnick looks too, and you can hear a snort come from him.

“Something tells me that they’re mad.”

“Yeah? What gave that away?”

“I don’t know, maybe the bruises forming on their faces?” Finnick suggests.

Caspian claps his hands, “The rest of the day is yours! See you bright and early for fighting tomorrow morning!”

You grab a hold of Finnick’s sleeve for a second, “I’m going to talk to Caspian. I’ll catch up.”

“We’ll wait for you outside of the door.” he wiggles his eyebrows, “No promises that I won’t eavesdrop.”

You roll your eyes, pushing him.

You watch as everyone slowly leaves the room, except for Laurel and Caspian, who still stand at the chalkboard. When the door shuts, concealing the last person, you finally speak, partially ignoring Laurel.

“You couldn’t have made it more obvious, you know.”

Caspian stares at you for a moment, “The proper response would be ‘thank you’.”

“I don’t need your help.” you snap, “And I don’t want it, either. I can take care of myself. I’m just letting you know that your hatred for Erudite’s is a clear sign that you’re still attached to Abnegation.”

He doesn’t say anything, and you don’t need him to.

You turn and leave the training room, the door sweeping shut behind you. Like promised, Finnick and Thyme are waiting for you in the hallway. They’re talking about who they might be paired up with tomorrow. You can start your guessing now, but you’d rather worry about it tomorrow.

“How was it?” Finnick asks.

You give him a shrug, not really in the mood. You already knew that Caspian giving Trink to you was a gift, but you didn’t think that he’d demand a thanks. What an asshole. It’s been five years and he still hasn’t changed. You need to keep him at a distance.

Finnick doesn’t nag you, but judging by the look he gives you, he won’t be letting this go. You can expect him to ask about it later, which you actually prefer. At least then you’ll be cooled down enough. Plus, you’re not too entirely sure you want Thyme entering your business just yet. It’s been two and a half days.

You wonder how Reed and Alyssum are coping.

Actually, you don’t think you have to wonder. 

Alyssum has noticed the difference, she’s three, which means she’s old enough to comprehend the fact that you’re not there. In fact, she might have even asked Reed where you’ve gone, no doubt earning some sort of stern glare from him, trying to silence her. The problem is, she’s still little, she doesn’t understand it to that extent.

You’re sure that no one has mentioned you, in courtesy of Reed. Abnegation is all for not inconveniencing others, and bringing up an event that’s usually frowned upon is like reminding the person of the stain on their family’s reputation. It’s two-timing now, too. First it was Mox, and now you.

Naida might be talking about it with Reed. As far as you can remember, before your parents died, he wasn’t a naturally curious person. This is why he’s a good fit for Abnegation, he’ll take the orders he’s given, and just do it without question. Volunteer work, a government job if he was elected, whatever Abnegation might want him to do. However, this doesn’t mean that he hasn’t turned to Naida to ask her questions. To see if she saw it coming at all.

She’s a mother of five, she’s raised two kids so far that have switched factions. She must have picked up on the mannerisms somehow. Calandra, her oldest, went to Erudite. Normally that would mean she was showing signs of high intelligence, especially in high school. She might not have been able to bring books home to continue her studies in the comfort of her own bedroom, but that doesn’t mean she couldn’t be in the honor classes in high school. 

You think you vaguely remember that being the case for her. Honestly, you weren’t really paying attention to her because she’s not your direct family. Of course, you would sometimes see her during holidays or dinners with her entire family before and after your parents were still alive. You really only began paying attention after she left, she was the first person you knew from everyday life that transferred. The second person was Caspian, who obviously ended up in Dauntless.

At this point, you think that Naida might have seen something in your interactions, but chose not to say anything because you probably confused her. You aren’t all Abnegation, you aren’t all Dauntless, and you definitely aren’t all Erudite. You showed traits from all three, two of which, her own children had shown signs of too.

Now that you’re thinking about that, you think that might be a problem, considering that if being Divergent is supposed to be dangerous, you were giving her mixed signals for years. And you might not have known the terminology for what you are exactly, but that doesn’t mean that all the adults in your life don’t. Reed and Naida, and Amon probably do. Amon more than anybody because he’s involved in the Abnegation government.

You think that this is the extent of Reed’s curiosity, though. He might be wondering if he could have spotted the signs earlier, and if Naida tells him anything--if he even asked--then he’ll try to do better with Alyssum. Since Reed is one of the Abnegation members that fully believe in Abnegation’s faction supremacy. 

As for missing you, there might be another spot in his heart that’s empty. You think that if Reed had known that both of your parents would die, he wouldn’t have stayed in Abnegation to be responsible for the teenagers and kids that would eventually leave him. The thing is, he’s not the only person that this happens to. Parents in Abnegation have this happen to them all the time, especially when they only have one kid. It’s not really preventable. 

Your mother’s death was unfortunate, modern medicine couldn’t save her. Your father’s death was accidental, as he was just helping someone like he used to do all the time on his walk home from work.

Reed could be regretting all the times he was too harsh on you. You think that you inherited the overthinking from him. He always sits in silence, so any questions must make him hesitant, but his actions can’t show that. And since you’ve always been forced into silence, not allowed to ask questions, you’ve been left to make up scenarios of what possible outcomes could be.

In this case, Reed might be eligible for Erudite. He has been taught not to ask questions, which would make him more prone to curiosity. Then again, he fits in too well into Abnegation to be just Erudite alone…

Does divergence run in the family?

--

ANTERIC IS A SPIN-OFF DIVERGENT AU //MASTERLIST//

add yourself to the TAGLIST

@amixedwitch / @justthatfangirloverthere / @fnnshelbys / @neenieweenie / @vxntae / @liaaacantwrite

[thisdreamplace]

What do you think of giving up? Idk about you but there is something so freeing about giving up on certain things. I'm asking this mostly because I have been kind of in a tricky situation with my SP. Thing is I have had to deal with many childhood insecurities resurfacing that have me feeling many kinds of negative thoughts about myself. I am feeling envy of other girls and jealousy of people who are in love, lately I have been worrying about 3ps when in reality idek if my SP has one but I keep getting an intrusive thought about that and I think it's so unfair to keep myself in this situation so I decided to give up? I think it's hard to focus on myself while also thinking about my SP, so giving up on him sounds like the only option for me to reconnect with myself. I constantly felt like I was in competition with his exes, competition with other girls in our career (we study the same thing), and with his female friends. I have to admit I feel abandoned by everyone lately, haha. And I'm kinda ok with it because I barely have the energy to interact, which is also why I am trying to stay away from SP. But I'm questioning if I'm doing the right thing, I just don't want to put myself through pain right now. I feel like I need a rest.

Also I want to kinda get rid of my feelings for him? So I had the idea of manifesting them away. I'm kinda like Selena Gomez in her lyrics "i needed to lose to love me" hahaha which is fun because I didn't really like those lyrics but I feel so related right now, ngl.

Sorry if this was negative, I mostly wanted to vent somewhere. 💓

to be entirely real with you, i personally do not feel good about giving up. it's not for me; once i set my mind to something i must see it through. the only exception is if the desire naturally falls away... in that case, i see no point to force myself to do something i don't want to do. but as long as i want something, i will see it through till the end.

if giving up feels liberating to you, then good. do what feels best to you always, always. :)

in regards to what you are experiencing, once again, i have to be real with you. you're relating everything back to your sp, but the truth is it has nothing to do with your sp and everything to do with you. your sp is not causing anything within you, these things are coming up because of you. that's how this world works. we can only experience ourselves.

i am not saying this because i think you should persist for your sp. whether or not you continue with your sp is your decision and isn't the important part here. the important part is actually freeing yourself from the pain you are facing. you can drop your sp any day, but the person causing those painful experiences will remain... because that person is you. you are the one who is carrying it, not your sp.

you can take a rest, you can be gentle with yourself on this journey. it's not a race and you can take your time dealing with those things. i am just trying to help you see that your sp is ultimately irrelevant here. you're relating everything to him — but realize that you are the only cause. you aren't going to be free from this simply because you drop him and find someone new. because you'll still be in the equation and you are the one who is holding onto those stories... no one else is holding onto these stories and forcing you to identify with them... it's just you.

so yeah, always do what's best for you. walk away if you want to, stay if you want to. but realize all the inner work is what is actually important here. take a rest, give yourself the opportunity to breathe and relax and not have to deal with all those heavy things for a while. allow yourself to get more clear on everything. come back to it whenever you feel ready.

i hope this helps you to become free from the burdens you described. and you're always free to vent here ! 💖

[missturtleduck]

idk if this can be triggering but can you maybe do a sokka x reader who’s struggling with mental health? those fics make me feel less alone <33

Hey, anon! I hope you enjoy this oneshot, and know that my DMs are always open <3

The After

Sokka x Reader

TW: Descriptions of panic attacks + mentions of canon realistic injuries

Firebenders rise with the sun. Taking from the power its primal energy, they stayed as close to it as they could get, like child to mother. Waterbenders gained strength under the moon, changing and shifting with its phases as easily as the tides flowed. Earthbenders and airbenders were luckier as they were constantly surrounded by the source of their power, and yet it could be taken away.

Y/N rose when all others were asleep.

It had started at the beach house. Before Ozai was thrown to rot in a jail cell, she couldn’t let herself sleep. Something about staying right under the enemy’s nose made her skin crawl, let alone in one of the beds once occupied by them. The nightmares were horrendous that first night, leaving her to wake in a cold sweat, stifling a scream for everyone else’s sake. Her chest had tightened, throat constricting as if she were being crushed by a python. Y/N’s head went light, and her breathing shallow. Spirits, what was happening?

She needed to get out of there. The white sand under her bare feet grounded her, the salt-scented air opening up her airways. Even Momo, who snuffled from under the duvet to follow her out, licked the tears off of her cheeks, staring at her with those massive, inquisitive eyes. Giggling, Y/N scratched his head, focusing on his purrs.

A solution came to mind; she would stay awake whilst her friends slept. If she was awake, she could prevent them being ambushed, ensure their survival and victory. So, every night, Y/N and Momo sat on the stairs to the beach house, weapons in hand. Under a blanket of starlight, illuminated by Yue’s gentle glow, she would stay until Zuko awoke where she would creep back to bed and catch an hour or two. The beach was lovely to sleep on too, Y/N convincing her friends she was just relaxed.

The oncoming battle was insane, but they made it.

Y/N came out mostly unscathed. Her only physical scars were the burns along her forearms, trophies from her glorious victories against Fire Nation soldiers. Everything was fine – great, even. However, when it came to staying within the walls of Zuko’s palace, other scars came to light.

“Y/N?”

She looked up from her seat on Zuko’s doorstep, eyes glazed over and not quite focused. Taking a moment, the blue in her vision and the low, concerned voice was all she needed to work out who it was.

“Hey, Sokka.” Y/N quirked a smile, resting her cheek against the heel of her hand. “What’re you doing up?”

“I could ask the same of you,” He said, raising an eyebrow.

Patting the floor next to her, Y/N welcomed him to join her. As soon as Sokka was sat by her, her head tilted until it rested on his shoulder, her body relaxing in a sigh that took with it all of her energy. Frowning, he wrapped an arm around her, chin atop her head until they were practically tangle.

Sokka was warm, warm enough to sooth her into something close to sleep. Beneath closing, fluttering lashes, Y/N watched the steady rise and fall of his chest, moving past his still broadening shoulders to look at the gardens. It was later than she had thought as she looked at the turtle ducklings snuggled up with each other on the grass, their mother close by. The way the turtle duck stayed only inches from its children, half-awake and protective.

Y/N shot up. “I can’t fall asleep.”

“What do you mean?” Sokka yawned, nuzzling his head against her neck. “I could fall asleep right here.”

“No!” She shoved off of him, unsheathing her blade. “I can’t fall asleep, because if I do, Zuko’s in danger! The Kyoshi Warriors aren’t here yet, and I’m not risking his safety again!”

Sokka’s eyes widened as he rose slowly to his feet, hands out. “Okay, Y/N. We can stay here if you want, but you don’t need your sword out.”

Breathing hard, she absorbed the emotions on her friend’s face, realising the fear in it. Clattering to the floor, the sword slipped from Y/N’s hand as she began to tremble. As tears began to pour, Y/N couldn’t reach for the Ember Island sand, nor the open sky, and not even Momo. A crushing pressure pushed on her chest, leaving her gasping for breath that seemed stolen from her. Seeing how her hands shook, she looked at Sokka.

“I’m so tired, Sokka.”

Stepping towards her, he tested the waters, placing a hand on her shoulder. With no outwardly negative reaction to it, Sokka engulfed Y/N into a hug. Gripping his shirt into her hands, she shook out shallow breaths, trying to ground herself as she focused on the feelings around her. Sokka’s gentle hand threading through her hair was rhythmic, methodical even, and the shirt on his chest was soft in her grip.

As her breathing levelled, Sokka pulled away from their embrace, taking a gentle hand to cup her cheek. Brushing away stray tears with his thumb, he studied her face with such care. Y/N stifled a giggle.

“What?” He grinned at her. “You don’t laugh at my jokes, but you’ll laugh now?” Leaning into his hand, Y/N gave him a watery smile. “I’ve never seen you so careful with something that isn’t your boomerang.”

Sokka gasped, scandalised. “I am very careful, I’ll have you know.”

“I’ve seen you walk into a canal because you were too busy impressing a girl.”

“That was different,” He huffed, crossing his arms and leaving her cheek feeling suddenly cold. “I can be careful whilst impressing a girl.”

Y/N sniffed. “Oh, yeah? Prove it.”

His grin made her wonder whether she should have challenged Sokka, but it was too late as he hoisted her up into his arms, protests or weight be damned. Since his broken leg had healed, and he had more time to grow into his shoulders, he had only gotten stronger, and Y/N had only gotten more bashful about the fact it was harder to see him as just a friend.

The guards seemed unwavering at the sight, Y/N only catching a single smirk as she was carried away from Zuko’s quarters and towards the kitchens. Only when Sokka had decided the coast was clear did he finally put her down, placing her up on one of the countertops.

“What are we doing here?” Y/N asked, going to slide down to the floor.

Sokka’s hand stopped her, firm on her knee. “You haven’t been sleeping properly, so I’m gonna make us some tea!”

“You? Tea?”

“Yeah,” He said, hand still on her as he rummaged through shelves of dried herbs. “Iroh taught Zuko, who taught Katara, who ranted to me a lot about some medical nonsense, but I picked some stuff up.”

“Please don’t poison us,” She laughed, placing a daring hand over his.

He looked up at her, deadly serious. “No promises.”

Snorting a laugh, Y/N pushed down the clingy need to whine as he moved away from her, watching Sokka begin to heat tea. In the water, he strained some brown roots and dried purple flowers into the water. It didn’t look like poison, and it certainly didn’t smell like it. Nevertheless, she found some joy watching him focus on the tea, tongue stuck out to the side as he did.

After a few minutes, Sokka had served the tea in cups he had swiped from another cupboard. Tapping their cups together, they both took a sip.

“It’s certainly...” Y/N grasped for a word, “Memorable.”

“It’s not as good as Iroh’s, that’s for sure,” Sokka frowned, but still sipping at the tea.

“I like it,” She beamed, basking in the warmth of the herbal blend.

The smile on his face made her comment worthwhile. Tentative, he took a step towards her, placing his cup down at her side. “Do you feel better?”

“A little bit,” She said, looking down into the remains of her tea.

“I know you haven’t been sleeping properly for a while, but I didn’t know it was this bad.”

Y/N startled. “W-what do you mean?”

“Y/N, I’m not just a pretty face,” Sokka smirked, though it fell into concern near immediately. “Do you not remember ending up in your bed every time you fell asleep on the beach?”

Huh. She did remember that.

“I’d always assumed I had made my own way there and was too tired to remember.”

There was that hand again, soft against her cheek. “I’m not gonna leave my best girl to sleep on sand.”

“Oh.”

“Hey.” His voice brought her gaze to his eyes. “Can I kiss you?”

She nodded. His lips ghosted hers. The kiss tasted of bitter valerian root and was all the sweeter for it. She leaned into the warmth of his touch, feeling more content then than she had in months. Smiling against his lips, Y/N snaked her hand up the back of his head to untangle his hair from its wolf tail, running her fingers through it. Sokka only seemed more enthusiastic as he pulled her closer until she was flat against him on the very edge of the counter.

For a moment, he pulled away, and she couldn’t help the small whine that escaped her lips. “You need to sleep.”

“What?” She barked out a laugh. “You go from kissing me to saying I should go to sleep? I wasn’t that bad.”

“No! No, no, no,” Sokka said, panic overtaking his face. “I just worry about you, Y/N.”

Nuzzling into his neck, she grinned. “I could sleep right here.”

“Could we at least move to somewhere comfier?” He whined, wrapping his arms around her. “My room has a sofa I could take.”

Y/N looked at him. “And a double bed.”

With a low laugh, Sokka pecked a kiss on her nose. “Sure.”

Despite the laughs - and the kisses - Sokka made it known that he could be her safe space, and was happy to be it for her.

[mushroom-cartel--writing]

to be [a]sundered

Summary: Kugisaki Nobara is blessed. She will never know.

Relationship(s): Kugisaki Nobara & Reader, Kugisaki Nobara/Reader

Note(s):

Here’s the link to read this on AO3! (You know the drill, extra tags, different notes, the format I intended, etc. Oh. And the comment section.)

There’s manga spoilers in this fic alongside headcanon.

So far, out of my menial amount of JJK fics, this one has probably been the most enjoyable to write. With Nobara’s background I can play around because it’s just there.

|||

“I’m going to Tokyo,” she says. Come with me.

“No.” Can’t, sorry.

Mahito touches her soul.

Kugisaki Nobara is blessed.

She will never know.

The first time she introduces you to her friends, Saori nearly gouges your eye out with a sugar spoon and Fumi spills the contents of her cup across the table.

“I have cake,” you say, offering a cutesy box to Saori who’s still got the sugar spoon trained on you. “It’s baumkuchen. An old acquaintance gave it to me for free but I figured it’d be too much for just one person.”

Nobara, giggling, just offers you a seat and asks for more tea.

On the outskirts of the village there is a shrine.

They say it houses a god that blessed their lands long ago and watches over them to this very day; they hold a celebration in its honour every year, a small share of the harvest season’s best crop is offered up to appease the god.

Her grandparents say it houses a malevolent wonder-terror who feasts on the soul of its worshippers once the sun goes down; her grandparents say the aforementioned god and malevolent wonder-terror are one and the same, born from a wish made by humans.

You laugh when she tells you the crap people have come up about your home. (You appreciate the free food, though.)

You are not a god or something malevolent. You’re you.

Not quite divine but too powerful to sniff at.

Humans cannot see or sense you. Not even those who can bottle their negative energy, the ones you occasionally see passing through the village. Usually, you have to will yourself into existence. But she can regardless.

Spirits, the weak and strong, good nor bad, fear you. Your presence sets their survival instincts off, running immediately when you try to approach them. She has to give chase and incapacitate them for you when the hunger becomes agony.

You taught her well, it seems.

Too well.

Mahito touches her soul and it burns, burns, burns.

-

Kugisaki Nobara was barely old enough to be out on her own, but her grandparents trusted her to stay safe. The village was small, everyone knew each other, word spread fast, so if something happened to her on her small excursion… Well, no one would come looking for her, would they?

It was a lie when she said she was just going out to play with friends at the park.

Nobara didn’t have friends.

All the other kids were boring. She didn’t like their company. Whenever there was a big gathering, she’d try her best to avoid them and hide from the adults in bushes.

Despite knowing this, her grandmother let her go.

She hated being cooped inside with nothing to do and today was perfect! The humid air made her clothes stick to her skin but at least the wide-brimmed straw sunhat she snatched from her grandfather’s shed protected her from the sun’s wrath. It meant her peers would be over at the river halfway across the village; people wouldn’t go back to working on their fields until it cooled down a bit later in the day; they wouldn’t see her; and she’d be on her lonesome.

She wanted to laugh to herself. Everything was coming together.

Finally, she could check out that place she’s been meaning to visit ever since she first heard of it: the derelict shrine.

Her grandmother warned her to stay away from it, lest she give her name away by accident to the being living there and have her life stolen, but Nobara, inwardly, thought it was a load of cow dung. She’d die? Hah?! It was all superstition! (She would never admit it did spook her a bit.) Besides, things like vampires and witches and ghosts didn't exist in the first place. She’d be fine.

Humming with a skip in her step, Nobara made it to the shrine in due time.

“Hello?”

“Why hello there!”

She took everything back.

You had to be a ghost with the way you snuck up on her soundlessly. You kept insisting you weren’t. You glided along the floor.

You had to be a ghost. And now you were serving her snacks and tea. Inside the shrine. Inside what was, supposedly, your home.

“Why don’t I believe you?” she voiced aloud.

You stared at her, face deadpan, and poured hot water over your hand. She watched your skin scald. “Does this answer your question?”

Kugisaki Nobara at five years old was a bit of a skeptic, contrary to her personal beliefs.

“No. Not really.”

-

11:25 PM →

You emerge from the gaping hole where her left eye was blown out alongside a good chunk of her head, something writhing and fierce and oh-so familiar.

Ah. Right. This feeling; this foreign dread dawning upon him, piercing Mahito innermost; your dull but irritated eyes trained on the cursed spirit akin to a lizard eyeing up a cockroach. You’re like him, possessing a soul that absolutely cannot and should not be touched.

Shit—that means she too—

Hahahahaha.

You don’t even need to spare him another glance. You know what he’s thinking. You know what he’s done.

You won’t be as lenient with him as Sukuna was.

But here’s the thing. Although a student may surpass their teacher one day, the teacher might not relay all that they know to the next generation to ensure the safety of their student and those around them. However, Mahito is nothing to you. Itadori Yuuji, on the other hand, is important, so you grab him and throw the boy behind you.

“Reverberate,” you intone, bearing the exact same wounds as her.

His senses are heightened a thousandfold, but not nearly are they even close to yours.

You shove a nail of hers into yourself, saying, “Plunge.”

It hurts. It hurts, it hurts, ithurtsithurtsithurts, hurtshurtshurtshurtshurTshURtsHURTS.

“Quietus.”

“We’re soulmates, you and me.”

She bursts out laughing. “Like from those cheesy dramas?” Nobara asks. Because. She needs to know. Whenever she’s around you, everything feels… right. It’s hard to articulate. Her heart doesn’t rush when you graze her skin but the particular spot where contact was made always tingles with a reassuring warmth; you’re real, not a fabrication of her imagination. She doesn’t fantasise about you like the way her peers do with the object of their affections. Your very presence makes her comfortable. “Are you having second thoughts?” she jeers, poking you hard in the ribs. (She’s still bitter about your decision.)

The intended jab has no effect.

“No,” is your reply. “What I mean is that your soul and mine are the same. If something happens to you, I’ll know.”

“What? You think I’m gonna be some part of a demonic summoning ritual where I’ll be a human sacrifice?”

“Time and distance makes no difference.”

“So if I just say the word…?”

“That… that’s not what I…” You sigh and scrub the gunk from your eyes.

How are you supposed to explain the whole situation to her?

Oh, yeah, about a couple aeons ago there was a being who tore themself in two—one part immortal, the other mortal—in order to understand their reason for existing. Their immortal self would be stagnant and observe their mortal self who would continuously live, die and reincarnate, until the latter, under their own volition, sought the former out and then a conclusion would be made between the two on whether or not they would remain as separate entities or rejoin together as one again.

Your original self (you and her; her and you) wasn’t great at planning ahead, that is plain to see. They didn’t think about the consequences, they just wanted an out. And fast.

Well look at you now. Distorted beyond reason. You’re an exercise in self-destruction. You stopped considering it being a miracle that you could wake up every morning by yourself and do what you wanted: the novelty was short-lived. You want to die but you’re at the point where it’s easier to convince yourself you do not than to focus on how you will off yourself somewhere that no one (and nothing) can find your undecayed corpse because the company you keep will become worried if you let the happy facade slip.

“Never mind,” you mutter.

-

She was ten when she first saw the skull.

It tumbled from your billowing sleeve as you rummaged around your pockets, rolling to a stop at her feet.

She lifted it up. “Whose is this?”

It was a weird skull, not like those she’d seen in her textbooks. She thought of asking Fumi about the skull later, when school started back up, but the idea was literally snatched from her mind when you saw exactly what she was holding.

In your hands, the skull seemed smaller. Inconsequential. Another another weird quirk of yours: carrying around random things. Maybe it was a model? You told her to forget about it and stowed the skull away—back into your sleeve—and dragged her along the beaten path you insisted on walking.

The next time, she was thirteen and helping you clear up your home. Fumi was there too.

They’d been going through a closet stuffed full of old junk and out the skull tumbled, right into Fumi’s lap. Rightfully so, her friend screamed. It took you several minutes to calm the poor girl down, her view of you now askew. Nobara was on your side when Fumi tried convincing you whomever the skull belonged to deserved a proper burial out in the forest and you refused.

No matter how hard she tried, you would not budge.

And that was that.

(From then on, whenever you made yourself visible to Fumi, she regarded you warily before seeing the way you looked at Nobara like she hung the stars and the moon.)

The last time the skull made an appearance in her life, Nobara had just turned fifteen.

A strange pair of men were at her door at the crack of dawn, rousing her grandparents, which prompted them to drag Nobara out of bed at such a god-awful time of the day. They all sat at a table soberly, discussing her future while Nobara found her attention gravitating to you.

You were playing with a stray cat in the garden, its stomach presented to you eagerly so soon after it deemed you safe, and making the most disgusting cooing noises she had ever heard to it with a dopey grin.

It was only at the call of her name that her head snapped back forward.

Yaga Masamichi was a strange one, tinkering so openly with a corpse in front of her deeply superstitious grandparents, but, strangely enough, it was his companion, a shock of white hair and bandage, that caught her eye. The young man was looking your way.

Not at the cat pawing up at thin air. Oh no. The blindfolded stranger’s gaze was dead set on you; she saw his brow raise minutely as Yaga and her grandparents continued talking, her tools of trade that was cobbled together from old sheds and the local hardware store bared flat on the table; she watched him watch you rub the cat’s belly before you lifted it high into the air like a parent would to their child. It was obvious what the situation playing out was: you had caught on to the stranger’s sighting of you long before she did. To emphasise the fact, you even babbled to the cat, “Higher, higher! Oopsie-daisy!!” before letting it back down and nuzzling it against your face, affectionate and close.

Yaga only noticed the change in atmosphere when the cat’s meows suddenly went quiet. But the other one (white hair, bandages, feels wrong, rotting flesh and fresh) grinned, slapping an enrollment form on the table.

“You. Leave that thing behind when you come to our school,” said Gojou Satoru, his introduction earlier all pomp and a wellspring of positive energy memes a stark comparison to now as he continued watching you, all but ignoring her grandmother shouting up at him to stop spouting nonsense.

(“What drivel! My granddaughter surely won’t—”)

She went back to spacing out in your direction.

Without hesitation, you dropped the cat into your gaping maw and swallowed it whole in one gulp. The first cursed spirit you managed to catch by yourself. Your ability at masking your aura was improving. That was good.

The skull peeked out of your hoodie’s pocket, the many orbits winking at her.

Screw the rules, you were coming with her whether the bureaucracy liked it or not.

-

At this rate, she’s going to die for sure.

You know what to do.

You’re one and the same. If Mahito touched one half of your original self and corrupted it, reason dictates that giving her body (the container) yours will fix her. But there’s a problem.

The implosion practically ruined her chances of survival, reducing it to null.

Not even a high grade sorcerer could hope to reverse the damage. Bone is a special material. Bone takes time to be cultivated or to grow. For a jujutsu user, especially, a substitute of different material won’t cut it. Bone, like the soul, contains an essence of sorts, it’s one of the few natural conductors of negative energy humans can have.

Your point: bone is not easily replaced.

Kneeling over Nobara, you grab from the air the object you were entrusted with over a millennium ago for safekeeping.

“Oi, oi, oi, you. You. Freak-god-thing.” You regard Itadori Yuuji with disdain. Or rather, the lone eye and accompanying mouth that’s on his cheek. “Is that what I think it is.”

“What? Are you objecting? Or worse—obstructing?”

“I don’t know about you or the brat, but you’re gonna fuck up the girl if you do that.”

“And since when did the King of Curses grow a heart?”

“I fucking didn’t, you prick.” The eye manages to scowl without a brow. “I’m just saying… You are sending her to condemnation.”

“Says the finger shagger,” you retort. The mouth disappears; Itadori Yuuji has an indescribable expression on his face but you know he won’t try and stop your hare-brained idea, he wants what you want.

You know what you’re doing.

You’ve had to do this a few times before.

It will work.

“Hello?”

A child? Who in their right mind would—

You freeze in your tracks. It’s them, your mind exclaims. It’s them. Them. Them. Them.

… Her.

You walk up behind her, beaming.

“Why hello there!” you chime, so, so happy.

[stereksecretsanta]

Merry Christmas, wildamongwolves!

For @wildamongwolves. Hope you enjoy it!

Read On AO3

*****

Towels Are Cold, So Am I

Chapter 1

It's weird, but Stiles likes hanging out with Derek.

Sure, the circumstances are less than desirable: they're looking for Boyd and Erica, unable to locate the wayward Betas. And since Scott won't help Derek, Stiles decides he needs to be the one to bridge the gap.

They spend the last few weeks of July driving around and eating fast food in parking lots as they ponder over maps of the area.

Sure, Derek snarls and bitches that Stiles is annoying, touching everything in the car and leaving traces of his scent everywhere. He makes fun of Stiles' choice in music and calls him a monster when he sees how many curly fries he can stuff in his mouth.

But Stiles has fun, watching the lines form between Derek’s eyebrows when he’s mulling over something Stiles says. Like he can't believe Stiles is as ridiculous as he is. But he listens, no matter how much Stiles talks.

Like now, for example. He’s running through a list of things that he needs to get from the grocery store before they head back to the loft and Derek gives what Stiles calls his “Encouraging Caveman” sound. It means he’s listening, but he’s mildly distracted by something.

Stiles, vaguely amused that he's gotten so good at Derek's version of communication, notices immediately when Derek’s eyes glaze over.

“Dude.” He snaps his fingers near Derek’s face. "We need to get some more snacks before we keep researching."

Derek glances at him, his eyes dark and haunted. “Okay.”

Stiles studies him, thinking of all the things that must be lurking in Derek’s mind to make him look like that.

He's not one for empty platitudes, so he just leans forward and turns up the radio a little, lightly scuffing at Derek’s shoulder in a way that he hopes comes off as reassuring.

Derek glances at him again before looking back at the road.

The littlest bit of tension leaves his shoulders and Stiles definitely counts that as a win.

-----

It’s October and it's raining. Like, fucking pouring, and Stiles is debating whether or not he should get out of the Jeep. The parking lot of the library is practically flooded. His shoes are gonna be soaked.

He sighs and leans forward against his steering wheel, thinking he might be able to see something other than gray clouds in the sky, but no dice. When he leans back, he jumps.

Derek is standing next to his window.

Stiles rolls the window down an inch and hollers, “You scared the shit out of me. What the hell is wrong with you? Get in the car!”

Derek rolls his eyes and, a moment later, is pulling open the passenger door before slamming it shut. He doesn’t look at Stiles, just stares straight ahead.

“So…” Stiles drawls, “whatcha doing out in the rain, Big Guy?”

Derek doesn’t say anything for a moment and Stiles is about to roll his eyes or huff or say something sarcastic like good talk as always when Derek says, “I’m leaving.”

Stiles blinks at the side of Derek’s face, mouth moving, but nothing comes out.

At his silence, Derek’s eyes flicker to his face for a second before going back to the windshield.

Stiles turns and looks out the windshield too. “Where are you going?” he asks because he can’t ask the question he really wants to, not yet.

“South America, with Cora,” Derek murmurs.

Stiles hums, picking at a piece of leather that’s peeling off his steering wheel. “Pretty warm there.”

“Still pretty rainy.”

Stiles nods. They sit in silence for a long time, the rain pattering against the Jeep the only sound.

Finally, Stiles whispers, “Why?”

“Because there’s nothing left for me here.”

And he gets it, he does. But it hurts, oh yes it does, it hurts quite a bit because Stiles could have sworn that they were starting to get somewhere, the two of them. Maybe Stiles was reading too much into it, but he wasn't sure he was.

Hell, they'd even hugged the last time they parted ways and, as awkward as it had been, it was nice and he thought... he thought...

“I don’t want you to go,” he confesses in a small voice.

Derek closes his eyes, his hands fisted on his thighs, his face twisted in pain.

Stiles waits, hoping that Derek will say something that means he feels even remotely the same.

A long beat of silence passes, the rain pounding the roof of the Jeep.

Stiles isn’t stupid. He gets the picture. He's seventeen and ridiculous and Derek isn't interested in him like that and god he's such an idiot.

He feels like a fucking joke as he nods, staring down at his hands. “Well,” he finally croaks, “I… I hope you find some place good.”

“Me too.” There’s a beat of silence before he whispers, “Goodbye Stiles.”

There’s the slightest ghost of fingertips against the side of his neck then the door opens and Derek is gone.

And Stiles is alone in his car again, the strong rain-wet scent of Derek making his nose and eyes burn.

-----

The first time Derek reappears in Beacon Hills, Stiles is almost sure he’s hallucinating again. After all, isn’t his brain still a little wonky from the Nogtisune? Derek used to be a frequent star in his visions, after all.

And since he’s in the woods alone at night, looking for a witch’s familiar, of course he’s gonna imagine Derek because why the fuck not?

It’s been two years since Stiles has seen him. More than that.

But, apparently, there Derek stands. His hair is a little longer, he's got the beginnings of a beard, and there are a few more lines around his eyes. He looks so good and what the fuck –

“What the fuck are you doing here?” he almost shouts, the orb of light in his hand flickering.

Derek jerks back, looking vaguely confused. “I had to get something from the vault. I thought I’d check on the house. Then I heard someone out here.”

“The vault? I, what?” Stiles sputters. He’s suddenly so angry, it’s almost blinding. “I thought you were dead!”

“Why would you think that?”

“Because you fucking vanished and no one’s heard from you for over two years and your luck is astronomically bad! What else were we supposed to think?!”

“That’s ridiculous, I’m fine.” Derek looks down at the orb in Stiles' hand then back to his face. “What’s going on? Why are you out here?”

Stiles rolls his eyes and god, it’s almost like Derek never left. Like This is private property and the long days and nights they spent looking for Boyd and Erica and – focus Stiles.

He starts walking the way he was going, sure that Derek will follow him since there’s no way he’s real anyways. “We have a very angry witch on our hands. She’s not happy that Scott tried to tell her she wasn’t allowed to use the Nemeton to fuel a revenge spell.”

Derek snorts, drawing up to Stiles’ left side and scanning the trees. “Yeah, because that’s always worked well for spell casters in the past.”

He gives a conceding gesture. “Which he tried to tell her, but she didn’t want to listen, so she tapped into the damn tree anyways. It’s given her hella power and she’s killed three people.”

Derek’s thoughtful hum is familiar enough to make Stiles glance over at him.

He’s got to be a fucking figment of Stiles’ imagination.

He glances down at his fingers. Only ten. But the situation still feels so surreal. He decides for now that he’ll talk to his Fake Derek to abate some of his anxious nerves like he used to and examine his mental health later.

“So, anyways,” he continues, “not only is there a body count, the negative power is starting to seep into the land, so I’m stuck trying to figure out what her tether is and what do I find? Her fucking familiar! Which is great, but can you guess what it is?” He snorts. “Oh my god, it’s so stupid.”

“What is it?”

“A fucking mountain lion. She's been using a mountain lion to kill people!” He lets out a hoarse laugh. “Like, what the actual fuck, right?”

Derek huffs. “The irony isn’t lost on me, Stiles.”

“Oh I know, dude, I know.”

Derek frowns again. “Don’t call me dude.”

Stiles is about to snap back that he can call his Imaginary Friend Derek whatever he wants when he’s shoved to the side all of a sudden.

He sputters, looking up at Derek, who’s wolfed-out and growling at a mountain lion.

Can hallucinations shove people? If Derek just shoved Stiles, then he has to be real, right?

But there were plenty of times Stiles was convinced he was awake when he wasn’t and fuck he really doesn’t need to have an episode or something right now –

“Stiles! Now would be a good time to do something!” Derek snaps, jolting Stiles from his contemplation.

“Fuck,” he hisses, sitting up. His hands are pouring blood from his unceremonious meeting with the forest floor. He figures, waste not want not, and licks one of his palms, the dirt and blood a disgusting mix on his tongue. He rolls it around his mouth, jumping to his feet.

“Get out of the way!” he shouts and Derek dives to the side right as the mountain lion lunges.

Stiles catches the large cat’s face in his hands, grunts at the feeling of claws digging into his thighs, and severs the creature’s connection to the witch with a push of his Spark.

An ear-splitting shriek shakes the woods.

The mountain lion falls to the ground, writhing and contorting for a moment before it stills, clearly unable to live without its connection to the witch.

Stiles takes a deep breath, the pushback from his spell like a punch in the gut as his legs give out, and shoves his hands against the ground. He pushes the extra energy along the nearest ley line and funnels the brightness toward the Nemeton. He snaps the link and almost pukes at the feeling.

He floats in the ether for a moment. The others are sure to be able to handle the witch now. He should probably go find them, help them…

“Stiles, Stiles!”

He jerks, his eyes finding Derek’s. “Oh shit, you’re still here.”

Derek stares at him. “You’ve got blood all over you. Where are you hurt?”

He laughs. He grew up in Beacon Hills. He’s fucking hurt everywhere. Derek should know that firsthand.

“Stiles?” Derek’s voice is careful.

He shakes his head, face still cracked in a smile. “I’m fine, man.” He glances at his palms. “Eh, well, I’ll live this time. Yay me!” He tries to stand but his legs buckle.

Derek snatches him before he can hit the ground.

“I’m good, I just, oohh boy. Too much. Too much.” He sighs, the pounding in his head telling him that he definitely used too much of his Spark with not enough preparation. “I just… need to lie down. I’ll be okay.”

“I’m taking you to the clinic.” He scoops Stiles into a bridal carry and starts back through the woods.

Stiles tries to protest, but he can’t walk, so it seems like he’s along for the ride. He tries to reason, “I need to help the others.”

“You’re in no condition to do that right this second.” Derek tilts his head, listening. “Besides, I think they’ll be fine. It sounds like the fight is winding down.”

"You really look like a puppy when you do that."

Derek's voice is as dry as the desert. "Dog jokes, really? Aren't you a little old for that?"

“Fucking hell, I am so good at imagining things,” he states, closing his eyes. “I even got your Stiles-You’re-So-Dumb voice right.”

Derek doesn’t say anything, just tightens his hold and quickens his pace.

He presses his face to Derek’s chest. Derek smells exactly the same and Stiles can’t help but mutter, “Missed you.”

It’s easy to slip into darkness.

-----

Stiles wakes up at the vet clinic, his hands and thighs bandaged, and feels like someone beat him with a baseball bat.

The witch is gone, the others are fine, and he’s got a migraine from Hell.

He goes back to Scott’s house and checks in with the rest of the pack, allowing them to scold him for being reckless and praising him for helping with the familiar. He leaves before the pizza arrives, not so much for socializing anymore.

He almost wants to ask if anyone saw Derek the night before, but stops himself. Surely someone would have mentioned if Derek was back in town, right?

If he was seeing things, he doesn’t want to worry his friends. It could very well be that he made his own way to the clinic, envisioning Derek as a way to keep him upright and moving.

And if he wasn’t seeing things, if Derek was there and helped him and disappeared again…

Well, Stiles has learned that it doesn’t do to dwell on the past.

[not-safeforsanders]

Be My Baby / Devil Like You

This fic is based on Bea Miller’s Be My Baby, and Gareth Dunlop’s Devil Like You. Yeah I know, that’s a bit of a whiplash between two songs.

Fic Synopsis: Roman knows how to dance, Patton knows how to pray, Remus knows how to use his mouth and Logan knows how to shut it. Meanwhile, Virgil and Janus think they’re all idiots and are begging for some healthy communication. (University!AU) (18+)

Warnings: religious guilt (jus a little this time!)

A/N: Man finally we’re getting somewhere, hope you all enjoy this chapter! I know I was very excited to write it ;)

Ships for the whole fic: Intrulogical, Royality, Anxceit, Logan/Remy/Remus/Emile. (Lomile and Remus/Remy separately too)

Word Count: 3898

Chapter One | Chapter Two | Chapter Three | Chapter Four | Chapter Five | Chapter Six | Chapter Seven | Chapter Eight | Chapter Nine | Chapter Ten | Read on AO3

Patton is getting the hang of his body. It seems like a strange thing to feel accomplished for, his body is, after all, something he’s lived with his entire life, something that is inescapable and constant. But since his last attempt at masturbation (that sounds too clinical, far too clinical, but every other option also sounds wrong in his head), he’d given it a go three times. Halfway through the first he had to take a break because his brain felt like it was on fire, and also his arm hurt, but eventually he got where he needed too. 

By the last attempt, he started to feel the guilt start to slip a little bit; his reasoning was that it wouldn’t make sense for something that was given to him to be abhorrent or wrong. It’s his body, surely what happens to and with it would be an act of free will on his own part. 

Still, everything he’d learned his entire life lingers, he supposes it might do so for many years yet. This is not a problem he can suddenly feel 100% better about. 

Having said that he’d never experienced this sort of pleasure before, not happy or sad just...euphoria, it’s such an overwhelming feeling that some part of him understands why someone would say that it’s destined to be used in moderation. Something that felt this wonderful should surely be sacred. 

But if that’s how he felt alone, how would it feel with someone else? Should he ask what sex is like? And who should he ask? 

He can hear what sex is like, although the whiplash between the two couples on either side of his room is exhausting; he’s not even sure he’d get the same response from Virgil and Janus, let alone from one of the couples to the other. Then there’s just the sheer embarrassment of asking that sort of question to any of them. 

Patton can derive that sex is pleasurable, even if the closest thing he’s had is all by himself, he can certainly understand from the few seconds before he slides on his headphones that the reason people have sex is that it is physically pleasurable to do so. And perhaps emotionally too, he’d always been raised to focus on that part, the emotional pleasure, the unity of two people in a moment in which all that matters is their love. 

He knows that Virgil and Janus love each other, not because of the sex although that is one part of it. He knows they love each other because they seem to communicate silently across rooms, and one always seems to know when the other is upset, he knows they love each other because Virgil didn’t have to ask Janus to put his arm around him, only sidle up and be embraced in the same movement. 

If nothing else then the way they look at each other like there’s nothing more precious than holding each other’s gaze...that says enough for Patton. 

But Logan and Remus, Roman had said, don’t love each other. Yet if he had to apply his observations for the other couple to them, then he would say that would be an unfair assessment alone. They certainly care about each other, they just have a much different way of expressing it. Neither Remus nor Logan are affectionate people...but they are affectionate with each other. 

They could be in love, one day. Maybe they already are. 

He thinks the best person to ask would be Logan, because he’s new to all this too and as far as he himself is concerned he does not love Remus; which is not to say there is no love between them, it’s just not the same way Patton had been raised to believe it.  

That and Logan does not get embarrassed, not really, and certainly not about sex. 

(He does know for certain he can’t ask Roman, because he might actually just wish to die by the end of the conversation)

--

It takes a little time to get Logan by himself, and even when the moment comes he’s predictably nervous, cracking his knuckles against each other by the kitchen door as he shuffles from one foot to another. “Can I help you Patton or are you going to keep standing there staring for the remainder of me making my lunch?” The other man looks up at him with an amused expression, sensing his nervousness. 

“I...uh...well...I…” the blond clears his throat and straightens up a little, his cheeks flushing as he scrambles for his words. “I wanted to ask you a question...and I-I apologise if it’s out of line, o-or uncomfortable, or…” 

“Spit it out,” he doesn’t say it unkindly, his voice is not clipped or harsh when he says the words, no his tone is just amused, with a hint of a smile. Patton takes a deep breath and nods. 

“Right, yes, well...what is sex...like, physically and emotionally if possible?” 

Logan raises his eyebrows, his hand hovering with the knife that is loose in his grip, he places it down on the kitchen counter, before leaning against the grainy surface, his salad temporarily put on pause. “Are you sure I’m the person you want to ask? I’m under assumption sex is predominantly an emotional affair in your eyes, that’s not quite the case for me.” 

“Actually that’s why I wanted to ask you, because I’m hoping you’ll be able to explain more than what I already know.”

“I see,” Logan nods, folding his arms as he thinks silently to himself, choosing his words carefully before he considers what to say. “Sex is...healthy, firstly, it’s nothing inherently wonderful, nor terrible, but it can be either although I have not personally experienced it as anything negative before, I’m sure you have watched the news before in your life and had an understanding of how sex can be a destructive force, and given the institution you were raised in...how perceptions of sex can be detrimental and used to control or manipulate an individual, or a group.” Logan pauses for a second, checking that the other man is following his words. “As an experience, however, I’ve found sex to be enjoyable, I think it’s a pleasurable thing that people do because it has benefits of doing so; emotionally it is nice to be close to someone and you learn a lot about them throughout, and you understand on the most intimate level what makes their body tick, makes them feel good and bad almost...primally. But as a physical act, it relieves stress, it induces a euphoric like state that can be beneficial for you mental health, and overall it just feels...good,” he shrugs a little. “If you have masturbated previously then I’m under assumption you know that being touched feels pleasant, but someone else touching you is more...adrenaline inducing than that, it’s exciting to have that experience with someone even for someone like me who hadn’t applied the emotional energy until later on in the relationship.” 

“Right,” Patton mutters, taking in all the information for a moment. He stands very still with his eyebrows furrowed whilst he digests the words. “So...people do just have sex for the physical aspect of a relationship?” 

“I did,” Logan leans up off the kitchen counter to pick up the knife and return to cutting up vegetables. “But sometimes I wonder if I should have, now that I actually know Remus as a person.”

“Do you regret it?” 

“Heavens no,” Logan chuckled. “I’d never felt so content or relaxed in my life, but some part of me wishes I’d loved him first.” 

“Do you love him?” Patton asks quietly, the movements of cutting up cucumber pauses, Logan’s jaw tenses as he looks down at the chopping board. “Sorry if that...I’m sorry.” 

“It’s quite alright Patton, you don’t have to keep apologising for existing you know? You haven’t actually done anything wrong; to answer your question though I don’t know is the very simple answer, I don’t know if I love him, I don’t even know if I know what love is; and I suppose we’re not all that different in that regard.” He rubs his forehead with his free hand as though stressed. “I know for certain that I feel a way about him that makes me feel better about my life, I know that I enjoy waking up next to him, I enjoy making him food even though the lazy bastard could do with getting up and cooking for himself, I’m excited to get back from class to see him and all in all he makes my day and life a little like it’s no longer mundane or repetitive, but I won’t say he’s the only person I’ve ever felt like that for, nor will I shy away from the fact that the idea of loving someone is terrifying to me.” 

“I understand,” he does. He leans back against the kitchen door and closes his eyes. He’s been so emotional lately, he supposes years of forcing himself not to cry would do that to a person. He feels like he’s going to cry again now. Can you love someone you’ve never even kissed? Can you deny yourself the will to kiss someone for the rest of your life? Should he spend his life alone instead of dealing with the fact that it’s very possible he’s been lied too? 

“Do you love Roman?” Logan asks, because he’s curious over all else, Patton’s cheeks flush and he looks down at his feet.

“I don’t know,” Patton replies quietly. “I don’t think I’ve ever been loved before, I don’t know what it’s supposed to feel like.” 

“I think if observation serves, he at least likes you, and that’s a start; after all you don’t just get handed love on a plate like in fairy tales, it’s something that takes time and energy and understanding more than just what is shown to you.” Patton looks at him with a confused expression. “I’ve seen Remus sad, angry, crying, I’ve seen him trying not to hurt himself and I’ve seen him trying not to hurt other people...I’ve seen the hard sides of him and even then there’s still more layers to see, I don’t really know if you can truly love someone until you’ve seen them at more than just the smiles and flourishes that they display for your comfort and to attract you to them. People are multi-faceted, after all, everybody has a bad and worst side to them, perhaps you should try letting yourself like Roman back so you can understand if you really love him, and so you can see those sides to him.” 

Patton takes a deep breath and nods. “Thank you, Logan.”

“Not a problem, I’m under assumption if you’re asking me about sex it’s because you have a desire to try it, and I of course encourage you to do so, but don’t bite off more than you can chew; I was never particularly afraid of my sexuality the way you are, I was just ignoring something I wasn’t in a situation to face...but you have a lot you need to unlearn before you start throwing yourself head first into physical intimacy, otherwise you’re just going to scare yourself and that benefits nobody.” 

Patton nods in understanding, thanking him again as he opened the kitchen door and walked through it. He makes a decision, there and then, but he does not yet follow through with it. 

--

Sunday comes around and Patton still hasn’t done what he’d said he would, only to himself, he’s the only person who can hold himself accountable for this situation, but he knows it’s what he wants, he knows that it’s what he desires perhaps more than anything else in his life. 

That doesn’t make it any less scary, of course. 

It’s midday, roughly, and he stands outside Roman’s door, the other man has probably been awake for about an hour by now because Patton knows he’s a late riser on the weekend, mainly because he spends all night playing video games and eating unhealthy foods. It’s his treat for getting through the week in one piece, but he tends to fall asleep around 1AM on a Saturday night, or rather a Sunday morning. 

Patton is not sure why he knows that detail, but it’s probably because he never stops listening when Roman speaks at all. He’d hang off every word of every sentence and listen to him talk forever if he could. 

His hands are shaking as he knocks on the door, and stands outside looking far too small in his sweatpants and baggy t-shirt. He’d started putting on a little weight recently so he looks a little less like a ghost but he’s not entirely sure he enjoys how his body changes with the weight gain. It’s just strange that his body feels different in so many ways lately, that and some sort of semblance of worth being placed on the fact he’s always been too small and too dainty. In school he was often teased for being feminine, although he’s not entirely sure being petitie makes anyone feminine or masculine.

Another one of the stereotypes that ended up burdening him for his entire life. 

The door opens and Roman stands on the other side, his red hair is damp and curling like he’d just gotten out of the shower, he’s wearing a shirt and jeans and there’s a little bit of glitter around his eyes but that also seems to be Roman’s way of doing ‘subtle’ makeup. He must be having a couch day today. 

Again, more little facts that Patton doesn’t remember picking up but just hoards like some sort of dragon. 

Seeing him makes him more nervous, his hands are trembling even more now just looking at him; his heart is racing in his chest so fast it’s almost shaking. He’s not sure he’s breathing either. “You look...scared,” Roman comments, his eyebrows furrowing. “Did something happen? Do you need a hug?” He’s never been so relieved to just curl up to someone in his life, his arms wrapping around Roman so tightly that the other leans back in surprise from the force. He lets the door close behind the two of them, wrapping his arms around his friend. The blond can feel his friend’s heart skipping a beat in his chest, and he doesn’t know if it’s because of him or because of the way he just knocked on his door looking like hell itself had just opened up around him and then pulled Roman into a bone-crushing hug. 

He’d practised it, over and over, what he was going to say and how he was going to say it, what he had to ask and how he had to ask it. To explain everything, to explain him, to explain how he feels for Roman. He’d had it all repeated in his head over and over again but the moment their eyes met all of that had disappeared out of the window and dissolved in the atmosphere. He buries his face in Roman’s broad chest, trying not to panic, trying not to cry. He could still just walk away, just say he was having a bad day. 

But for how long can he keep playing this game? How soon before it destroys his soul? 

Lying is a sin by itself, and arguably a bigger one than just admitting the fact he’s gay. Because if it’s not Roman then one day it will be another man, this history will keep repeating itself...is it worth losing someone who cares about him over it? 

Logan had said though, to wait until he’s ready, to make sure he takes this at his own pace. His own pace is frustrating him to no end, because he wants to say the truth. He’s said it out loud to himself, he’d slipped up discussing it with Janus and Virgil, and everyone around him with eyes knows that the truth is Patton likes men, and specifically he likes Roman a whole lot. Whether that’s love or a crush or some sort of lustful desire he doesn’t know, but he knows he’d be happier with Roman’s hand in his own. He knows he feels at his safest in the other man’s arms and he knows the way Roman looks at him holds so much care that he doesn’t know what to do with it all. He isn’t sure if it’s the fact he’s cared for by a man is more or less terrifying than the fact he’s simply cared for at all.

Because much like Logan, he too has never really been loved. 

And he doesn’t think Logan is a bad person; he doesn’t think Roman is a bad person or any of his flatmates...he thinks they’re good people, not despite of their sexuality but because of. There’s so much hate directed to these people every day and they simply smile and get through it all with so much fucking love in their hearts that he doesn’t know how they survive. 

So why does he hold himself to a different standard? 

Why must he be the one that has to suffer? Why can’t it be anyone else? He has to do this, for himself, for Roman, or he might suffer alone forever.

Patton untangles himself from his friend’s arms and stares at the floor, taking a deep breath. His words are still scrambled and he doesn’t know what they are or how to speak. The curly-haired man looks up at Roman with a pale expression on his face like he might collapse any second. He’s shaking so much that he might. “Whatever it is, Patton, it’s okay,” the other man muttered, his eyes worried as he meets his own, scanning him for any clue of what might have happened. 

“I…” his words catch in his throat, he doesn’t know what to say, what was it he wanted to say? How does he ask it? “Kiss me,” he finally says, because it’s all that his mind could supply, his cheeks flush, still unsure if he could handle another rejection. 

“Are you sure?” he asks. “Yes,” he has no idea if he’s sure, he must have terror written on his face though because Roman hesitates, but he nods again, encouraging him. 

Roman’s hands are very warm on his cheeks, his fingertips are calloused like he does something that requires the handling of rough tools, or maybe just the usage of his hands often. Patton is sure he can feel his pulse, but it might be the roaring of blood in his own ears. He closes his eyes, he waits. He feels the breath before his lips, but when it comes his entire body feels like jelly. 

At first he doesn’t know what to do, it’s just a peck really, their lips slotting together and lingering for a few seconds. It’s warm but...he’d expected it to somehow be scarier, or more intense. When Roman pulls away, he can’t help it, he leans up and captures his lips again, his lips parting like they do in the movies. 

That’s when it sinks in a little, when he feels Roman’s tongue brush against his own and his entire body feels like it’s floating, he feels dizzyingly warm too. His hands finally remember how to work, their shakiness easing as he grips Roman’s shirt and moves closer to him. The hands resting on his cheeks come down to rest loosely against his neck. His skin feels...electric. 

But he gets the hang of it, the rhythm, the movements, he doesn’t want to stop. 

Roman does taste like berries, and his body is warm against his own. But eventually, they both need to breathe, no matter how addicting this feeling is. Their foreheads rest against each other’s, taking breaths so deep Patton’s shoulders rise and fall with the movements. “How are you feeling?” Roman asked.

“Warm,” Patton replies truthfully, which gets him a short laugh. He looks for the panic but it doesn’t come, there’s something about the way Roman’s hands move to rest on his hips that feels so grounding, comforting, that he just can’t find his fears. He’s sure once he’s alone it will crash down, or maybe it’s delayed by the adrenaline and Jesus Christ he doesn’t want to ever stop kissing him.

But then it sinks in.

He kissed him. He kissed Roman. 

He tastes nice. There’s a sense of pride with the accomplishment. But then there’s…“Oh my God, I kissed you!” His hands dart to cup his mouth for a second; there are about seven different emotions that he’s feeling and the majority seem to fluctuate between positive and negative. 

“Yeah, you did,” but he looks up and Roman and sees the same disbelief in his eyes that’s so dazed and happy that the little bit of panic gets shocked out of him. The other man stares at him like he’d just experienced something that words can’t explain, and he smiles, Patton feels...relieved. Guilty, yes, afraid, definitely, but the most overwhelming feeling is the sheer wonder in Roman’s eyes, and how exhilaratingly happy that makes him feel.

“You taste nice,” he whispers, forgetting how to filter his thoughts.

“Thanks, I brushed my teeth.” The two laugh in a short manner though still processing the fact this had happened. They’d kissed, it had felt better than Patton had imagined, like a weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. A weight that had been heavier than he’d realised, to be honest. “Are you okay?” 

“Yeah,” Patton nods, his hands finding Roman’s, they feel small in the other man’s. “I’m...panicking, but I am somehow okay, actually I don’t think I’ve ever felt so happy.” 

“And that was just the kiss,” the blond sputters at the implication, burying his face in Roman’s chest as he feels it vibrate with his laughter. Once again, he has to squash up the thoughts of more than a kiss, although the thoughts are starting to feel less intrusive the more he allows himself to indulge them. Maybe he should talk about it with Emile, is that something he can talk about with Emile?

He wishes he knew the proper social etiquette instead of assuming every time he actually talks about sex would be wrong and an intrusion and against the other person’s personal comfort. 

“We should...have breakfast,” Patton muttered. 

“Yes we should, actually I know a nice place that does the most amazing pancakes,” the smaller untangles himself from Roman, looking up at him.

“Are you...taking me on a date?”

“Would you like to?”

Patton hesitates for a second. “Yes,” he manages out finally because that is what he wants. 

“Okay then, go and get changed and I’ll meet you in ten.” The grin that Patton gives is worth the tiny inkling of fear that they both share. Somewhere at the back of his mind, Roman can hear Remus’ warning, but as quickly as it comes, he pushes it away.

--

Hey this fic has got a playlist now: https://open.spotify.com/playlist/40ThpuznR1S9cnxB4vIhaf?si=28NuoRdQTcyJBNUiQGU5kA