#don’t recommend the smoking habit everyone else got going on though

[kleefkruid]

Going hard this New Year’s Eve

[cuttoothed]

For the second day of @jonmartinweek, mostly for the prompt "injury", though also a little bit "love confession" (by omission).

Set directly after episode 92. Content warnings for mild descriptions of Jon’s canonical injuries (blood, burns).

*

Things are...tense, when they go back down to the Archives. Actually, “tense” is probably an understatement, after finding out that Elias murdered not only Gertrude Robinson, but also the unknown man in Document Storage—who as it turned out was none other than Juergen bloody Leitner.

A lot to take on board, all in all.

Basira seems to have accepted her new employment status with eerie calm, and starts setting up at Sasha’s old desk (oh god, Sasha’s dead, has been for months), fetching notebooks and folders from the stationery cupboard and arranging pens and highlighters in a desk tidy. Daisy is nowhere to be seen—thankfully, Martin thinks, because she was even scarier than usual in Elias’ office. Melanie storms off into the stacks and there are sounds of shouting and things hitting the floor, which Martin is in no hurry to investigate. Tim sits at his desk with his feet propped up for about five minutes, then stands up and says: “Fuck this, I’m off to the pub.” He doesn’t invite anyone else to go with him, and Martin thinks their presence probably wouldn’t be welcome.

Jon arrives in about half an hour later, smelling of fresh cigarette smoke. Normally Martin would disapprove, but the way things are right now he’s tempted to take up a few bad habits himself. Jon looks...exhausted, defeated, his shoulders slumped wearily. His clothes are smudged with dirt, and there’s drying blood crusted around the injury on his neck; the bandages on his hand are starting to slip, revealing the angry, raw burns beneath.

Martin’s not sure he’s ever been so happy to see someone in his life.

Jon gives him a small, tired smile as he passes, then heads into his office and shuts the door. Martin knows that no sane person would try to go straight back to work looking like they’d just been through a war zone and still with an open wound; he is also aware that Jonathan Sims is the sort of person to do precisely that. He hesitates for a few moments, then makes a decision.

He fetches the first aid kit from the break room, and goes and knocks on Jon’s door. It’s a firm knock, a knock that he hopes says “I’m coming in whether you like it or not”, because it’s not beyond Jon to try to avoid them all for an extended period.

“Come in,” Jon calls, and even his voice sounds exhausted. When he sees Martin enter the room, his expression softens in a way that’s difficult to parse. Is he just relieved that it isn’t one of the others? Or is he actually pleased that it’s Martin?

It’s been two months since Jon went into hiding while suspected of murder, and the last time Martin saw him he had been quite sure Jon was planning to—to hurt himself, somehow. Before that, though, there had been a time when they were...well, close, in a way. Jon had let his guard down around Martin, in the midst of being so suspicious and afraid. He had trusted Martin, when he didn’t trust anyone else, had eaten lunch with him and talked about boring, ordinary things, the tight set of his shoulders relaxing just a little. He had even laughed, sometimes. It had been, despite everything, one of the happier times in Martin’s life, and if that’s not pathetic he doesn’t know what is.

“Hi, Jon,” he says.

“Martin,” says Jon, his tone soft. “It’s so—ahh, how are you?”

“How am I? You’re the one with a bloody great gash in your neck and looking like you put your hand in a fire.” Martin brandishes the first aid kit. “You really should go to the hospital, but I know it would be a waste of my time suggesting it.”

“Thank you for bringing that,” Jon says. “I appreciate it. You can just leave it on the desk.”

“Nope,” Martin tells him cheerily, setting the kit down and opening it. “I know you, Jon. If I leave it with you it’ll still be sitting here untouched tomorrow. Plus, I got my first aid certification when I was working in the library. It’s probably expired now, but I think it still counts.”

Jon looks as if he’s about to protest, but then he huffs a breath that might be a laugh, and nods in concession.

“All right then,” he says.

Martin snaps on a pair of disposable gloves and directs Jon to sit on the desk and undo the top two buttons on his shirt, so Martin can examine the wound on his neck. It’s shallow, fortunately, and the bleeding seems to have already stopped. Martin cleans away the crusted blood as gently as he can, though Jon still winces a few times.

“What happened?” Martin asks, as he smears on antibiotic cream.

“Daisy. She, ah, she decided that I was dangerous. Needed to be dealt with. Fortunately Basira was able to convince her otherwise.”

“Bloody hell,” Martin mutters. He’s not sure why he’s surprised; he’s always felt afraid around Daisy, like a rabbit being in the same room with a fox. But he just sort of assumed it was typical Martin fear of, well, everything. He never thought Daisy would actually hurt any of them. He applies a bandage carefully over the wound, and then turns his attention to Jon’s hand. Unwrapping the bandages reveals the red, blistered mess beneath, and Martin hisses in sympathy.

“Please tell me you went to the hospital for this.”

“I went to a walk-in clinic,” Jon says. “They cleaned it up, gave me some antibiotics and painkillers. They, uh, they did recommend I see my GP for follow up monitoring, and that I should get a referral to a physiotherapist, but, well, it’s been a busy few days.”

“Jon,” Martin sighs, exasperated, and Jon smiles a bit shakily.

“I know,” he says. “I will go to a GP, I promise. It’s just a bit tricky when you’re wanted for murder. Anyway, it seems to be healing rather well, all things considered.”

Martin considers whether to apply antibiotic cream, but the skin doesn’t seem to be broken, and he knows it’s best not to touch the area more than needed. Instead, he rewraps it with clean, dry bandages, being sure to keep them loose.

“How did this happen?” he asks, to distract himself from the fact that he is, technically, holding Jon’s hand. Jon gives a self-deprecating laugh.

“I, uh, I was trying to get information from a devotee of the Lightless Flame. This was her price.”

“The Lightless Flame? That cult—from the statements?”

“The same. As it turns out, a—a lot of things from the statements are real. Unpleasantly so.”

“I—yeah, I sort of figured that out when Tim and I got trapped in these weird corridors for days by that Michael...thing.”

Jon’s face blanches, his brows furrowing.

“You—god, Martin, I didn’t know. Are you—I mean, you’re okay, obviously, but— Have you seen Michael since?”

“No, and I hope I don’t.” Martin feels faintly nauseous at the memory. He doesn’t realize his hands are trembling slightly until the fingers of Jon’s hand, the unburned one, touch his wrist.

“I’m so sorry, Martin,” he says. “When I realized a-about Sasha, about that thing, I hoped I could take care of it myself, spare you and Tim. I never wanted to drag you into all this.”

“I don’t think there’s much avoiding it,” Martin mutters miserably. “And you didn’t seem to mind dragging Melanie into it, while you were on the lam.”

“I shouldn’t have asked her for help either. It wasn’t fair to put any of you in the position of aiding a suspected murderer.”

“I never believed you did it,” Martin tells him fiercely. “It just would have been nice to know you were okay, you know?”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I—I wanted to contact you, but it seemed too risky. I knew the police would be watching you, since we’re friends. Or—or at least friendly.”

Everyone I’ve talked to says you and him were close. Martin had been ridiculously pleased by the accusation at the time, and he feels the same now, with Jon’s injured hand cradled in both of his. Jon trusts Martin with his wounds, his vulnerability. Jon wanted to contact him; Jon thinks they’re friends.

“I—” Martin starts to say, and he doesn’t know if his next words will be I missed you or I worry about you or some humiliating romantic confession blurted out and impossible to take back. He draws a deep breath, and instead says: “I’m glad you’re back, and that you’re okay. I don’t have that many friends, I can’t afford to lose one.”

He says it like a joke, and mercifully, Jon takes it as one, and gives a relieved laugh. Martin realizes he’s long since finished bandaging the burn and is now just sort of...holding Jon’s hand; he releases it, reluctantly, and Jon smiles, lifting his other hand to touch the bandage on his throat.

“Thank you, Martin,” he says, hopping down from the desk. “I appreciate it, really.”

“As a token of your appreciation, you can go ahead and make a doctor’s appointment for that hand,” says Martin firmly, closing up the first aid kit.

“I will,” Jon says solemnly, and Martin believes him, but he’s also going to check in and remind him at the end of the day because Jon has a tendency to forget about trivial things like his own wellbeing. It’s just who he is, and Martin’s made his peace with it, like he’s made his peace with being utterly, hopelessly gone for Jonathan Sims.

“I was going to make some tea, if you fancy,” he says as he opens the door. “You look like you could use a cup.”

“Oh, yes, that would be lovely, thank you. Oh, and Martin?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m glad I’m back as well. I—” Jon hesitates a moment, then says: “I missed your tea.”

It’s not much of a declaration, but Martin understands what Jon means by it; for the two of them, it means a lot.

[fleetingpieces]

My One in a Million Chapter 2

Thank you @inloveoknutzy​ for proofreading and support <3 and @lumosinlove​ for your amazing OCs!!

You can read Chapter 1 here

Chapter 2 - Bad habits

“So how’s that new apartment of yours?” Alice asked over the phone. “I can’t believe you didn’t call me sooner, are you already too much of a star for your commoner friends?”

Remus laughed goodheartedly as he sat down on his bed. He’d missed Alice’s voice.

“C’mon, I’m by no means a star. And I would never forget about my best friend, you know that.”

“Ohh good, I finally dethroned Leo?”

“Ok, let me rephrase that. I would never forget about my midget best friend,” Remus corrected and laughed again when Alice cursed at him. “I’m sorry Al, it’s just been a very busy couple of weeks.”

Remus glanced around his room. It looked much more homier now that everything had been unpacked and he’d gotten himself a few paintings and decorations. Everything looked exactly as he’d imagined, and Remus felt a sense of contentment at the image.

He closed his eyes, letting the sun warm up his skin and enjoying the light breeze drifting in through the open balcony door. But when he breathed in, a strong smell of nicotine wafted to his nose.

“Fuck, not again,” Remus groaned, raking a hand over his face with an exasperated sigh.

“What? What’s wrong?” Alice asked.

“My asshole of a neighbour. I swear to god Alice, it’s like he does it on purpose.”

Throwing himself down on the bed, Remus pinched the bridge of his nose. He tried to remind himself that the guy wasn’t technically doing anything wrong at the moment, but this little thing together with everything else was cutting Remus’ patience short.

“Uh oh, are you having trouble already?” 

Remus snorted.

“You could say that.” He focused on breathing in and out before launching on a rant. “I have this beautiful balcony with a view, but I can never leave the door open cause he’s always smoking outside and somehow the smell always gets into my room which is fucking annoying.”

“Well...I guess it could be worse?” Alice said uncertainly after a moment.

“That’s not all. He sometimes leaves the garbage right outside his door for hours. I don’t know what the hell he does at midnight, but I can hear his music at the weirdest hours, and then out of nowhere there are loud screams coming through the walls.”

Alice snorted and Remus rolled his eyes.

“Not that type of screams. Like angry screams?”

As the smell became too much, Remus got up and started walking towards the door.

“And the weirdest thing is, there’s so many people coming in and out from that apartment all the time. Every day. I swear, it’s ridiculous. Is he a drug dealer or something?”

Remus thought about the past week and how confusing it had been, as he’d bumped into a lot of weird, different people.

On Monday, when he was coming back from finally doing grocery shopping, he got into the elevator with a guy with messy hair and glasses. The guy was smiling so much it was a bit weird, but he was nice enough to hold the door for Remus when they were getting off. Remus smiled as well and nodded before going to his apartment and watching as the guy disappeared next door.

On Tuesday, a bloke with red hair was going out just as Remus was coming back home; they exchanged a ‘good afternoon’ and they each went their way.

On Wednesday a tall, dark, handsome stranger smiled and winked at Remus.

Thursday, a woman with red hair and green eyes struck up an animated conversation with him when he was coming back from his morning run. Remus had actually liked her, she seemed very nice and easygoing. He wondered if she was related to the guy he’d seen on Tuesday.

When Friday came around, he’d been slightly wary as he’d stepped out to take Cocoa to the park nearby. Almost as if on cue, he heard a door open and close when he was going to the lift, and soon he was joined by a shorter man with tan skin, a snapback on his head with dark curls slipping out.

He’d had to wonder if it was some sort of silly prank. It couldn’t be a coincidence. Cause every day, for a week, he’d bumped into a different person every time he went out or came back to his apartment.

All of them coming and going from apartment number 12.

Just how many people lived there? He'd casually asked the concierge about it and was surprised when the man said it was just one guy. Someone called Black, whose description matched the one of the first guy he’d met in the building.

Alice’s huffed laugh brought him back to the present as he reached the door and peered outside. And then he felt his breath catch in his throat.

Black was standing on the edge of the balcony closer to Remus’ own, and had his back turned on him. A very tanned, muscular, bare back. Remus cursed under his breath. The guy was only wearing a pair of sweatpants, and was leaning on the rail as he exhaled a plume of smoke. The way the sun reflected beautifully over his skin and dark hair had to be illegal.

“And he’s hot! Really, his back is so sexy it’s unfair!” he said as he closed the door a bit harder than he’d meant to.

Alice cackled on the other end of the line.

“Well Rem, at least you have something to look at,” she teased. “Why don’t you go say something to him?

“I would rather avoid confrontation so early on,” Remus said as he leaned back on the glass panel, ignoring Alice’s first statement. He didn’t want to have his first neighbor fight not even two weeks after moving in. But the guy was just getting on Remus' nerves, and even if he didn’t want to be that neighbour, he knew he would soon need to set some boundaries.

“I’m sorry about that sweetie,” Alice said in a sympathetic tone. Remus hummed in reply. “I hope it didn’t ruin the excitement of moving in.”

“Nah, it’s alright. It would be nice if we could get along, but worse comes to worse I’ll just have a talk and that’s it. We don’t have to be friends or anything,” Remus decided not to mention the issue with his Mum’s painting, otherwise Alice might just show up here to kick the guy’s ass herself. Smiling slightly at the idea of tiny Alice standing up to that guy, Remus glanced at the clock and cursed. “I’m sorry Al, I gotta run or I’ll be late for my first class.”

“Ok, I’ll talk to you later, yeah? Don’t be a stranger!”

“Yeah, yeah, bye Alice!” 

As soon as Remus hung up, he scrambled through his room to grab everything he needed. He stopped only for a minute to fill Cocoa’s bowl and pet him on the head before heading out, thanking the heavens that for once, there wasn’t anyone waiting for him in the hallway.

Remus had been working non stop ever since he’d started gaining popularity online, and took a few days off to adjust to his new living space before he started working at the new studio. Not that he’d completely stopped, what with making and editing videos for the page.

Some students were already waiting when Remus arrived, but he was just in time. For the first time ever he had a fully booked class, and even some people in a waiting list in case any space would free up. Remus was so thrilled, he couldn’t keep a smile from his face.

He looked around when he entered the room where he would be imparting the yoga lesson, and the first thing that caught his eye was a head of flaming hair.

The girl was wearing black leggings and a loose shirt, and Remus recognized her at once from last Thursday. She glanced up, and surprise crossed her face before she broke out in a smile.

"Hello! You're from Sirius' building aren't you? Are you here to take this class as well?"

Remus wasn't sure who Sirius was, but given the fact that she had been to the apartment next door, Remus figured it must be his dear neighbor.

Sirius Black.

Even his name was pretentious.

"Ah, no, I'm actually the new instructor," Remus said, smiling shyly.

"Oh that's great!" the woman beamed. "My friend Natalie recommended your class, said I would not regret it. So, you're Remus?"

Remus nodded, rubbing the back of his neck.

"Yeah, pleased to properly meet you um.."

"Lily," she smiled, and Remus couldn't help but return it. It was so easy to talk to her.

Remus moved to start setting up his things while they waited for the last few students to arrive. Lily followed.

"Natalie should be here any minute, she was super excited about this. Apparently, you're pretty famous! I don't pay much attention to social media, so I haven't heard from you before." Lily smiled apologetically, but Remus waved her off.

"Oh that's not true, I'm just a normal guy that happened to have a bit of luck. I do hope you enjoy the class though." He bit his lip, wondering if he should ask the next question or if he would come off as a prying old lady, but then curiosity got the better of him. "What's the deal with all the people in that apartment? Do you all secretly live there?"

A dark look crossed Lily's face, but it was gone in a second and replaced by a small worried frown.

"No, that's just Sirius' home. I'm sorry about all the trouble, I swear it's not always like that,” she said, tugging at a strand of her hair. “Things should calm down soon...I hope."

Remus wasn't sure what that meant, but he knew asking more about it would be too nosy. It was none of his business after all, he just wanted some peace and quiet.

"Oh, I know!” Lily suddenly perked up. “We're throwing a Halloween party at Sirius' in two weeks, why don't you come over? That way you can meet everyone!"

Remus schooled his features carefully to avoid cringing. He didn't particularly like parties, the smell of smoke and alcohol, the inebriated people doing stupid shit, the many mistakes made in the thrill of the moment...yeah, Remus could live without all that crap.

"I don't know, Lily...I don't think I'm invited." And that guy and I don't really get along well, he thought.

But Lily just rolled her eyes.

"I just invited you. That flat is almost like my own home, so Sirius won't mind me inviting someone over, if that's what you are worried about."

Remus busied himself searching his bag for nothing in particular, wondering if Lily and Sirius were dating. They certainly seemed really close to each other, he could tell by the way she said his name; but how could someone as nice as Lily date that ass?

"C'mon, it'll be fun! You can make new friends, and that way it won't be so weird if you bump into any of them in the hallways again."

"I'll think about, ok?" Remus said to appease her, but he knew there was no way he'd be going to that party.

However, the look Lily gave him and the glint in her green eyes told him she wouldn't let him off so easily.

***

Later that night, Remus was sitting by the window of his living room, meditating. He’d gotten into the habit of doing it when he needed to wind down, or when there was too much on his head; and today, after a long day back at teaching, it was a good way for him to relax.

And for once, everything was quiet. No loud music coming through the walls, no people shuffling about all over the building, even the city outside seemed quieter than usual, and Remus basked in the silence that filled his ears as he breathed in deeply.

Or at least he did until he heard a loud whoop that almost made him jump out of his skin. What the hell was that?

A string of muffled words and a loud laugh followed as Remus sat there with a hand over his racing heart, trying to calm down. And even then, with his breathing completely messed up, Remus surprised himself thinking it was the first time he’d heard laughter from next door instead of just shouts, and how oddly familiar it sounded.

“For fucks sake,” he muttered, getting up.

He’d finally had enough. He’d tried to let it be and avoid confrontation, but was it really that hard to be considerate? Did he think he was the only person living here?

Breathing out, Remus made his way through the hall and knocked on the door. There was no response at first, but the noise inside quieted down. Remus waited for a bit before knocking again, a little louder than before. This time there were approaching footsteps on the other side, and he was pretty sure he could hear someone cursing.

Remus was going over his speech in his head, trying to figure out the best way to talk to this person, but as soon as the door opened, all words disappeared from his mind. Actually, every thought in his brain flew out the window as he was met by stormy grey eyes boring into his.

It was the first time he was seeing Black’s face, and why the fuck did he have to be so fucking gorgeous?

He had high cheekbones, and a jaw that was screaming to be kissed; his inky black hair held in a messy bun at the top of his head, with a few strands framing his face. Remus already knew he was fit as hell, but fucking God, those eyes.

Remus’ breath caught in his throat as he took in the slightly surprised look on Black’s face, who was looking him up and down. It was then that Remus realized he was so pissed that he hadn’t even thought about changing out of his yoga tights. His cheeks warmed up, and the thought of blushing in front of this guy annoyed him even more.

He glared at Black, who arched a perfect eyebrow.

“I’m sorry to disturb you,” he started, still trying to be polite, “I live next door, and I didn’t want to do this, but could you please keep it down? I’ve been listening to your music all week, and even if you have good taste it’s getting really annoying.”

You have good taste? What the hell was that? Remus chided himself.

Sirius glanced behind him at his apartment with mock surprise.

“There’s no music right now, is there?”

Remus rolled his eyes; he didn’t care how good looking this guy was, or how curious he was about the slight accent in his voice, he was absolutely obnoxious.

“Oh yeah, ‘cause the screaming is so much better,” Remus deadpanned. He thought he saw the corner of Black’s mouth quirk up, but he was still staring Remus down.

“Oh, I was just punishing the gang for not making the drugs faster,” Sirius said, and his mouth moved to the side, like he was biting the inside of his cheek to fight a smile.

Remus' eyes widened.

"Yeah, I'd invite you to come in and have a look, but it might be too hot in here," he continued in a teasing tone. 

"Oh my God, you heard that?" Remus fought the urge to cover his face, which he was sure was beetroot red.

"Just bits and pieces. You were talking pretty loudly," Black said, the amused smile finally appearing on his face. He leaned with a shoulder against the doorframe, looking Remus up and down again. “But hey, I could show you more of my sexy back if you really want to.”

Remus did his best to fight his embarrassment as he squared his shoulders, his expression going hard. How did this guy manage to make him so angry every time?

“I would never want anything to do with a disrespectful, self-centered prick like you." Politeness be damned, he was not going to stand here and let this man make fun of him.

Black's eyebrows shot up in surprise, and he regarded Remus with new interest.

"I -"

Some voices came from inside the flat, and Black looked over his shoulder. When he turned back around, he looked Remus straight in the eye with a penetrating gaze.

"I will try to keep it down," and without another word, he closed the door in Remus' nose.

Remus just stood there for a few minutes with his mouth hanging open, absolutely bewildered, before a scowl took over his face. He turned around and marched straight into his apartment, closing the door behind him and taking a few slow breaths to calm himself.

When that proved fruitless for the first time in a very long while, he went straight to his computer and onto Padfoot’s channel. A pleased sigh escaped his lips when he saw that he was going live and clicked the video immediately. Padfoot hadn’t made a new video in a few days, which had been slightly worrying, so Remus was glad to see he was back.

When the video loaded though, Remus frowned. A game was being shown full screen, but the character was just standing there, not doing anything, and the only voices heard were from other players. Padfoot wasn’t there. The live chat was going crazy asking what happened, saying everything seemed fine and then Padfoot had just disappeared.

But a few seconds later Remus, heard a small laugh and a familiar voice talking to the viewers.

“Hey guys, I’m back! I’m so sorry about that, I was just very rudely interrupted. Although I must admit, it was a very interesting interruption. Anyway, let’s crack this thing, I left my partner alone for a long time and we all know he is as useful as a chocolate teapot.”

“I protected your sorry ass while you were away, and that’s the ‘thanks’ I get?” another voice came from the video with mock offense.

“Yeah, yeah, I appreciate your efforts Prongs, but we both know who's the one that gets things done here."

“Oh, yeah? It’s always like this with you, whenever you do something awesome it’s ‘Oh, look at me, I’m amazing’, and whenever you fuck up it’s ‘Oh, we are a team’.”

“That’s how teamwork works!” Padfoot said in his most convincing tone.

Remus laughed at Padfoot’s antics, feeling a lot better than a few minutes before, and started thinking about everything with a cooled head. He would have liked to get along with his neighbors, to have a quiet, happy life, but he could try to ignore him. He didn’t have to see the guy more than was strictly necessary. He wasn’t going to.

[hashtagartistlife]

and then there were none

Ichigo Kurosaki, college student, gets roped into a dorm game with a long tradition and finds it a little more than he bargained for. Kuchiki Rukia, college student, has never done anything by halves-- and that includes stupid traditional dorm welcoming games. The r.a.s regret the day they placed her knife in his hands.

There was a tumblr post going around that I can no longer find about a welcoming game at an American college dormitory. The basic idea behind it was that everyone in the dorms get a plastic knife with someone else's name on it, and they had to find that person and 'stab' them with the knife (just a simple touch was counted as valid) to 'murder' them. The 'victim' is then out of the game, and they had to hand over their own plastic knife to their 'murderer'. Whoever is on the 'victim's plastic knife was the new victim for the 'murderer'.

My first instinct upon seeing anything vaguely amusing is always 'make it ichiruki'. So here's the fic about it.

(There's two chapters planned, and please don't ask me when the next chapter will be up, it's not high on my priority list. But it WILL come, some day. I don't make it a habit to abandon fic, even though sometimes it seems like I have. Promise.)

___________________________________________________________

So, college dorms were pretty wild. 

For small-town Karakura boy Kurosaki Ichigo, living in a co-ed dorm at a university in America has been nothing short of an eye-opening experience. There are people walking around barefeet in only a towel. Some girl set off the smoke alarm because she was cooking cup noodles in the bathroom at 2am. He’s pretty sure he’s heard his dormmates having sex through the walls on more than one occasion, and the food served at the cafeteria is only edible about half the time. All in all, it’s a little bemusing, but not at all unpleasant, and by the third week of his move he thinks he’s settling in ok. His room is mostly in order, and he’s made at least passing acquaintances with the people on his floor. His English is improving at a frankly astonishing speed, and classes don’t start till next week. He’s figured out which stall in the bathroom spits out the most reliable hot water, and he really thinks he’s got a good handle on this whole ‘dorm living’ thing—

that is, until he gets back to his dorm room one night to find a plastic knife shoved under his door. 

“The fuck…?” he mutters, trying to figure out if this was an American befriending ritual, or maybe someone was just attempting to threaten him (badly)? Did his room look like a trashcan? Did Chad (he thinks that was his name) from room 209 remember what he said about not having a grasp on American cutlery yet and decide to help him in a subtle way? 

He raps on the door next to his, and a muffled voice yells ‘who is it?’

“It’s Kurosaki from 206,” he replies, and the door cracks open to reveal a single brown eye and a strand of auburn hair. 

“Oh, hi, Kurosaki-kun!” Inoue Orihime from 207 was…. an odd girl. She liked putting parsley in her coffee and read astrophysics textbooks for fun. But Ichigo doesn’t remember her ever being this defensive— she’d always been enthusiastic about greeting people, so the way that she refuses to open her door more than an inch is uncharacteristic of her. “What’s wrong?”

“Well, I just got back from the library and there was this knife shoved under my door—”

At this, Inoue screams and slams her door shut; Ichigo is left more than a little bemused. “Inoue? What the hell— it’s only a plastic knife!” 

“I know that, Kurosaki-kun! As if I’m just going to let you win this— but by the way, this is terrible strategy, now I know to avoid you like the plague—”

“Strategy?! Inoue, what the fuck— wait, is this plastic knife meant to mean something? Is this some American etiquette thing? I have no idea what’s going on. Please explain to me what this knife means—”

Inoue opens her door a crack again, and looks at him suspiciously. 

“Wait, so you didn’t hear the murder announcement at breakfast today?” 

“Murder announcement?! Jesus FUCK, who died—”

“Nobody died, Kurosaki-kun, don’t be overdramatic—”

“AS FAR AS MY ENGLISH SKILLS GO, INOUE, MURDER MEANS SOMEBODY DIED—”

“Wow, you really don’t listen to the breakfast announcements at all, do you?” Inoue sounds supremely unimpressed, but at least she opens the door a bit further; except what the hell is she only wearing a towel—?!

“Inoue why the fuck are you only wearing a towel—”

Inoue waves her hand like that’s a negligible detail. “Just got out of the shower, but also murder strategy. You’re immune if you’re naked, and some of the second years recommended this. I’m in this to win, Kurosaki-kun, there’s a whole year’s supply of cup noodles in this for me—”

“Wait, what? Cup noodles?” That got his attention. Anything that scored him a whole year’s supply of free cup noodles was okay in his book. Questionable towel-wearing included. “Now you really gotta explain what’s going on.” 

“I should leave you to rot, one less person to compete against for me.” Inoue purses her lips. “But you were the first one to pour a bucket of water on that fire I started last week, so fine, I’ll let you in on the murder details.” 

“Not a sentence I thought I’d ever hear in my life, but cheers, America,” Ichigo mutters. 

“So basically, murder’s a game that the whole dorm plays every year,” Inoue starts explaining, and Ichigo’s still trying to get over the weirdness of the word murder being used so casually— “and everyone gets these plastic knives with someone’s name written on them, and the idea is you have to stab that person with the knife and ‘’’kill’’’ them. Then you get their knife, and you just keep killing people and collecting knives until you’re the last person left! Hmm, there were a couple of rules, you can’t kill someone in the dining room or their own rooms, and you’re immune if you’re naked, but I think that was it? Anyway. So yeah! That’s what’s going on here!” 

Ichigo squints at his knife in the half-dark of the corridor that, for some reason, has had all its lights screwed out. “Ok, that’s…. Great, I suppose? What happens if I don’t know who the person on my knife is?”

“Then you find out, Kurosaki-kun! This game was ostensibly devised so that we make friends, you know.”

“There are no friends when it comes to a year’s free supply of cup noodles,” Ichigo says, and Inoue claps her hands. 

“Precisely! You’re getting the hang of it now. Ergo, for the next week, I don’t know you, ok? Good luck!” 

Inoue slams her door shut, and Ichigo shuffles back to his room, feeling slightly more enlightened than before. 

But still— 

“Who the hell is Rukia Kuchiki?”

__________________________________________________________

By the second week of Murder, Ichigo’s seen enough naked butts to last him a lifetime. It seems that voluntary nakedness is a vastly preferable fate for many than losing a shot at a year’s supply of free cup noodles, and honestly if that doesn’t sum up the average college student mindset Ichigo doesn’t know what does. (He’d probably be a lot more judgemental about it, though, if he hadn’t spent at least a few hours earnestly contemplating the strategy himself.) 

Thankfully, he and Chad have an alliance of sorts that makes him wearing a towel round the place redundant. He’d enlisted the giant’s help in identifying his would-be target, and after ascertaining that he wasn’t the name on Chad’s knife either (Chad had one Asano Keigo as his victim, Ichigo only knows him as that guy who swallowed a whole tablespoon of cinnamon powder on a dare), the two of them had agreed to watch the other’s back. Chad was set to pull off his first attack tomorrow, but Ichigo still had no clue who or where Rukia Kuchiki was. 

Part of the problem was that the dorm was so friggin’ huge; there were four wings, each with five floors, and each floor had ten rooms. That was 200 potential students he had to parse through to find his victim, and it wasn’t exactly like he could go around asking people if they knew her. Murder had amped hostility on campus up by 300%, and almost nobody stopped for idle chatter anymore.

Whoever had devised this as a way of promoting friendliness and unity on campus was a giant fuckin’ moron. 

“Still no word on Kuchiki?” Chad asks, after another day of paranoia and stalking Asano to make sure the plan goes off without a hitch, and Ichigo shakes his head. 

“Are they even real at this stage? Are we sure I haven’t been given someone who doesn’t exist?” 

“Ghost student?” 

“Fuckin’ potentially? Who the fuck knows with America.”

Chad hides a smile behind his rickety old guitar and starts tuning. “I’ll ask around my bandmates tomorrow, if you’d like.” 

“Naw, s’alright. I don’t want word to get out that I’m looking for them. What kinda giant flashing beacon that says HEY, I’M YOUR POTENTIAL MURDERER, right?” 

“If you say so.” 

“I do.” Because dammit all, Ichigo’s serious about this thing. A whole year’s supply of cup noodles is no joking matter. Speaking of which, he wonders how Inoue is doing with her murders…

_______________________________________________________________

Inoue, as it turns out, is doing swimmingly. While Ichigo has done little more than sit around and twiddle his thumbs, Inoue has already racked up an impressive collection of plastic knives— three, she informs him that night, while cheerfully throwing him a celebratory can of leek soda (Ichigo gingerly sets it down behind her sofa when she's not looking). She was making good headway on her next victim, as well, and if all went according to plan she'd have her fourth knife tomorrow morning—

“But, you know, Kurosaki-kun,” she muses, sipping on her own can of beetroot soda (where did she get these concoctions from!?), “You're awfully cavalier about this whole thing. For all you know, you could be my next victim,but here you are, sitting on my couch. Or do you just not care about cup noodles?”

He snorts. “If you ever got ahold of my knife, I'm pretty sure I'd be dead before we even got to have this conversation.”

“True,” she concedes— credit where credit is due. “So nobody’s popped up to try to kill you yet?”

“Nope,” he replies, popping the p a little. Honestly, that was the only thing making him feel better about his complete inability to murder anyone— the fact that whoever had his knife was having just as much difficulty tracking him down. One week in, and he'd not seen hide nor hair of this Rukia Kuchiki person, and, big dorm or not, her (her? Ichigo assumes it's a girl, though Rukia is very unusual for a Japanese name) elusiveness is getting to be extremely impressive. “But Chad is watching my back for me anyway. I'm covered.”

“Hmm.” Inoue purses her lips. “That's a lot of faith in someone you've only known, for, what, three weeks?”

“Chad is trustworthy,” Ichigo says firmly. He stands and stretches up to the ceiling, stifling a yawn. “And speaking of Chad, I better get to bed. He's ambushing Asano tomorrow, I told him I'd be there for backup.”

Inoue waves. “Good luck to Sado-kun, then. I’m gonna stay up a bit to refine my own dastardly plans.”

He shakes his head and opens the door, peering out into the corridor to make sure the coast was clear. He and Inoue were literally next door neighbours, but you couldn't be too careful these days. “When you win this thing I'm gonna be expecting free noodles from you occasionally. Remember I stopped you from burning down the whole dorms last week.”

“I'll consider it.”

“‘Night, then.”

“Goodnight, Kurosaki-kun. Dream of Rukia Kuchiki tonight!”

“At this stage,” Ichigo mutters, as he slips back into his room, “anything to help me find out who the hell she is.”

_______________________________________________________

Drastic times call for drastic measures. The next morning, after a successful ambush on Asano (Chad is now +1 plastic knife; his new victim is called Yammy Llargo), Ichigo tracks down someone he'd been avoiding ever since his move to America and claps a hand on her shoulder. 

“Hey.” 

Arisawa Tatsuki whirls around and body-slams him into the ground. “Who the fuck do you think you— Ichigo?”

He winces. “Hi.”

Tatsuki puts her hands on her hips and does not offer him any help getting up. “Oh, so you're talking to me now?”

“I just said hi, didn't I?”

“You know, you're such a fucking asshole, did it ever occur in your pathetic little brain to apologise—”

“I'm sorry,” Ichigo mutters sullenly. “Look, I'm sorry I didn't tell you I was also going to college in America, I'm sorry you found out only when you bumped into me at the dorm welcoming party, it's just that we had that whole farewell party for you and we had that touching goodbye and, look it's just awkward that I got a second round admissions letter the very next day, it's like saying bye to a friend and then finding out you're walking the same way to the carpark, ok, it’s embarrassing—”

“Oh my god, you drama queen. Were you ever planning on telling me? Ever? Your best friend since childhood?”

“... I might’ve planned to tell you at the beginning of the next semester by pretending I was on exchange,” he admits. Tatsuki throws her hands up in the air. 

“You were going to avoid me for a whole semester?!”

“Look, I didn't know I’d end up in the same dorm as you, ok? It's a big campus!”

“Un-be-lievable,” she says, turning on a heel and walking away from him. “You know what, keep ignoring me. Don’t hang out around here. I don’t want your incredible loser vibes accidentally rubbing off—” 

“I said sorry, didn’t I? Wait, wait, I had something to ask you!” 

“Sorry doesn’t pay my bills, Ichigo!” 

Ichigo catches up to her and falls into stride. “You don’t even pay bills! You’re on a full scholarship!”

Tatsuki manages a smug smile. “If you’re so jealous, maybe you should have kept up with karate.”

Ichigo grumbles. “Yeah, right, like I had a chance at a physical education scholarship with you in the same dojo.” 

“I’m glad you’re finally acknowledging my superiority—!”

“You beat my ass continuously from when we were six to sixteen, I threw away any pride I had a long damn time ago.” He makes a face at the memory, then shakes his head to refocus. “Anyway, this isn’t why I was here. Listen, have you heard of anyone around here called Rukia Kuchiki—?”

Tatsuki cocks her head to the side at that, a thoughtful expression on her face. “Kuchiki…? Name sounds familiar. Why?”

Ichigo feels his heart speed up in his chest. “What, really? Where did you hear it? Do you know her?” 

And now she was grinning again and— oh, no, Ichigo does not like the look of that smile. “Why do you want to know?” she asks, and the question is laden with suggestion. Ichigo flushes. 

“None of your damn busi— look, it’s not what you think—”

“Aw, my little mama’s boy Ichigo is all grown up, I remember when you used to go crying to your mom for a scraped knee and now you’re chasing after women—” 

“It’s for murder, you absolute pain in the butt! She’s my target!”

Tatsuki bursts out laughing, hearty peals of laughter bouncing off the courtyard walls. “Alright, alright, I get you. I was just teasing, Ichigo, geez. Anyway, the name sounds familiar, but that doesn’t mean I know her. I can’t remember where I’ve heard it before.”

Ichigo deflates as quickly as he’d been riled up. “Are you serious right now—?”

“Hey, you can talk, mister ‘I’m-really-bad-at-remembering-names-and-faces! And yeah, I’m serious. I don’t have a stake in murder anymore. I got killed two days in.”

Ok, that surprises him. He raises a skeptical eyebrow. “What, really? Who the hell did you in?”

“Some girl named Orihime Inoue,” she grumbles, kicking a nearby rock. “Tae-kwon-do black belt, apparently??? She doesn’t even look the type!” 

Ichigo makes a noise of sympathy and understanding. He should have guessed.

“Anyway, now I’m roped into helping her. So I don’t think I’d be able to tell you about Rukia Kuchiki, even if I’d known any more about her. Victims who are murdered have to help their murderer, and all.”

Ichigo frowns. “Wait, those are the rules?”

“That’s what Inoue said.” 

“............ I am about 95% sure that those were not part of murder rules.”

There’s a short silence between the two as they process this.

“...... scary girl,” Tatsuki finally says, in a grudgingly admiring tone.

“I’ll say.” 

The two of them stop their brisk walk in front of a huge pair of doors emblazoned with the words GYM, and Tatsuki waves him off. “Anyway, I gotta go train now. Any further questions before I go?”

Ichigo thinks a bit. “Yeah, why drama queen? Since I’m a guy, shouldn’t it be drama king?”

“Do I look like a linguist? You always scored better than I did at this stupid language. Take it up with whoever your hero was, Willy Shakealot or something?”

“Shakespeare,” he says sharply. “And Shakespeare wasn’t a linguist. In fact, I’m pretty sure linguists really hate him. He made up a lot of weird words and shit.”

“He did? Huh. Didn’t know you were allowed to do that.” 

“You’re not, Shakespeare just gave zero fucks.” Ichigo shrugs and takes a half-step back, raising his hand in a goodbye salute. “Why else do you think he was my hero?”

Tatsuki rolls her eyes. “Whatever. You’re still a loser.” 

“And you’re a bitch. Let me know if you remember anything about Kuchiki.”

“Only if we get to go halves on the cup noodles.” 

“I’ll think about it.”

“Then I’ll think about it, too.” 

That was probably the best he was going to get out of her. “Later, then.”

“If you can bear the embarrassment of us meeting again despite already having said goodbye, then sure.”

Ichigo shakes his head and lets her have that parting riposte. He hadn’t won a single match, verbal or physical, against Tatsuki since they’d been in diapers; he figures, what with the way his luck was going lately, that he wasn’t about to start now. 

__________________________________________________________

Just as Ichigo walks away, a tiny girl brushes past him on her way to the gym. Her black hair falls short and sleek, tickling her jawline and the nape of her neck, and the clean scent of cucumber and mint follows in her wake. She jostles him a little, bumping into his elbow, but Ichigo hardly notices the slight press of her body against his, small and light as she is. She mutters a hasty apology, and disappears into the building before he can formulate a reply. 

Ichigo shrugs and goes on his merry way. 

_______________________________________________________

The third week of murder brings about a calamitous change in the game as Ichigo knows it, due to several factors:

Orihime Inoue kills not one, not two, but three people in quick succession;

Someone finally stages an attack on him, but runs away without having completed the deed, and

Chad dies.

Not literally, of course, but Ichigo has to admit, the figurative loss still hits him pretty damn hard. Chad takes it as stoically as ever, with a shrug and twitch of his eyebrow, and goes back to working on music for his band. 

“Does anything faze you?” Ichigo wonders, after Chad hands his knife over to Inoue (because of course it was Inoue who took him out. Of course). 

“Puppies.”

“Fair enough.” 

“Kittens, too.” 

“... Right.”

“And birds. And rabbits. And small children—”

“So basically, you’re a sucker for anything cute?”

Chad shrugs again, which Ichigo takes as a yes. He crumples up his soda can and lobs it into the bin. 

“You were attacked today, too. Aren’t you worried?”

Ichigo considers it. “A bit, yeah. Sucks that you got taken out of the game. But you can still watch my back when you can, right? I’ll go halves on the noodles with you.” 

Chad nods. “When I can. I might be busier with my band soon, though.” 

“Understandable. I’ll try and keep myself alive in the meantime. At least I know who’s aiming for me, now. Neru? Nel?”

“Neliel Tu Odelschwancke.” 

Ichigo stares. “How the hell do you remember that?”

“She’s in my music theory class. And she has green hair. She’s not hard to miss.”

“Well, good. Should make it easier to see her coming.”

Chad smiles. “Your hair isn’t exactly hard to miss, either.” 

“Aw, shut up. I take back what I said about the noodles.” 

They sit in companionable silence for a while, the sounds of Chad tuning his guitar the only thing between them. Eventually, Chad breaks the ice. 

“And Kuchiki?”

Ichigo huffs a dry laugh. “No fuckin’ clue who or where she is. I’ve even been asking around, now that a lot of people have been dropped from the game by dying. But nobody seems to know who she is, even though everyone says her name sounds familiar. It’s driving me up the goddamn wall.”

“When I first heard the name, I thought that too.”

“What, that it sounds like a name that’s going to drive me up the wall?”

“No, that it sounds familiar.”

At this point, Ichigo is more tired than exasperated. “Yeah, s’what everyone says. Whatever. I’ll either find her or I won’t, right? No point getting annoyed over it. Better just focus on staying alive, because I swear to god if I die before finding out who she is I’ll be pissed.”

“You better hope,” Chad says gravely, “that Inoue doesn’t get her hands on your knife, then.” 

“You, me, and the entire dorm population, mate.” 

________________________________________________________

Ichigo drops by Inoue’s room that evening, just to check he isn’t next on her list. He’s lucky— he’s not. But some poor fucker by the name of Uryuu Ishida is.

“I waited outside his room all day and he didn’t even exit once!” Inoue’s saying, brandishing the knife with his name on it like a conductor directing Beethoven’s Ninth. “What kind of— of social recluse does that?!”

“Damn,” Ichigo replies, ignoring the fact that he did exactly that for days on end during the summer holidays, rereading The Compleat Works of Shakespeare in English and Japanese. “Sounds like a loser.”

“Apparently he’s like— the dorm cryptid,” she says, lowering her voice conspiratorially. “Nobody’s— nobody’s really seen him in the flesh. They’re not sure he even exists. They think he’s second-year pre-med and that he was valedictorian of his grade last year, but nobody knows for sure.”

“Inoue, how did you manage to find out all this in the span of a day?” 

She looks at him like he’s insane. “I, uh, talked to people?”

“I talk to people too! But nobody knows who Rukia Kuchiki is. Nobody. Zilch. Zip. Nada. At this point I’m about 98% sure she doesn’t actually exist.”

Inoue sighs pityingly. “Kurosaki-kun, you’ve been talking to students, haven’t you?”

Ichigo’s confused. “Who else would I talk to?”

Inoue just puts a finger to her lips. “Can’t tell you. Trade secret. But really, Kurosaki-kun. There are much easier ways of going about this game, you know.” 

“Fat lot of good that’s going to do me, when you won’t tell me,” he grumbles. He takes another look at the name on her knife— Uryuu Ishida, may he rest in peace— and thanks his lucky stars that it isn’t him on there. “Anyway, I better be off. Good luck with the new guy. Not that you’ll need it.” 

“Good luck with Rukia Kuchiki, because you’ll definitely need it.” 

Hell, did everyone make a secret pact today to take the mickey out of him? Ichigo’s too tired to argue, so he just leaves Inoue to her planning and calls it a night. Maybe he’ll have better luck tomorrow.

____________________________________________________________

It takes Ichigo a few seconds to remember who she is, he’s been so tired lately. 

Green hair, he thinks, absentmindedly, before he remembers his conversation with Chad yesterday and yelps, scooting back a few metres. 

“You— Neliel?”

“That’s me!” His would-be murderer is bright and vivacious, and way too perky for this hour of the morning. Aside from the curious green hair, she’s also got a scar between her eyes and a reddish— birthmark? Tattoo? Ichigo doesn’t know— across the bridge of her nose. “Morning, Ichigo!”

Ichigo’s already halfway across the courtyard by the time she stops him. “Wait! Wait! I’m not here to kill you this morning!”

“Yeah right!” he yells back. “I’m not dying before I find out who the hell Rukia Kuchiki is! Try another morning!” 

“You idiot, I’m already dead! Check the morning lists if you don’t believe me!”

Ichigo stops and whips out his smartphone. “You stay right there,” he says, glaring, and Neliel complies, holding her hands up in a gesture of surrender. He scrolls through the dorm noticeboard, and, sure enough, there is her name: one of the last people to be murdered last night. 

“See? I don’t lie,” she says, reproachful, and Ichigo shoves his phone back into his pocket and approaches her cautiously. 

“What do you want?” 

Neliel shrugs. “I just thought I’d warn you about your new potential murderer? Thought that might be good manners, and all. Normally I wouldn’t bother, but, well. Your new murderer’s…… yeah.”

“My new murderer’s… what?” 

She looks intensely uncomfortable at this. “He’s. Well. He’s…. He’s not a friend, per se, but I’ve known him since we were little and I feel a bit responsible for him— uh, he’s a bit rough sometimes, but he won’t actually kill you. I think. Look, just keep your eyes peeled, ok? Anyway, enough of this depressing talk in the morning. Who’s Rukia Kuchiki? Why are you so keen on meeting her?”

Wow, that was so transparent a topic change that Ichigo’s almost impressed. “No, no, go back to my murderer, what were you saying about him?”

“— so, Rukia Kuchiki, huh, cool name, sounds kinda familiar, wonder where I’ve heard it before—”

“Neliel. You were talking about my new murderer and actual murder in the same breath. This does not give me a lot of reassurance, you feel?”

“—no, wait, actually, Rukia Kuchiki,” she mutters, her brow furrowing. Then her expression clears, and she looks up at him with a bright smile. “Oh! You don’t possibly mean Dia—”

And just as that happens, the lockdown alarms go off. 

_______________________________________________________

The loudspeaker in the middle of the courtyard bursts into life with a crackle of static. 

“Attention all residents. This is not a drill. Please make your way to the nearest lockdown location in an orderly fashion. Attention all residents…”

By the second round of the announcement, both of them manage to unfreeze; Neliel curses and starts to turn away, but Ichigo grabs onto her wrist. 

“Oh shit�� I have to go find Donddochakka and Pesche—”

“Wait— Rukia. What were you about to say about Rukia?”

She shakes his restraining hand off with ease. “I’ll tell you later! I have to go find my friends!” 

“No, goddammit! Tell me now! It won’t take you that long!” Ichigo yells, but she’s already disappeared into the throng of people. Ichigo kicks a nearby rock and consults his phone to find his nearest lockdown location— the gym, apparently. He joins the crowd moving slowly in that direction, mind still grappling with Neliel’s last words.

Rukia Kuchiki? Oh! You don’t possibly mean Dia-

Dia? Who the hell was Dia?

But he’d have to deal with that later; he walks into the gym and spots Tatsuki, waving at him from a corner with Inoue. He makes his way towards them. 

“—n’t believe that he still won’t come out of his room, who does he think he is— there are safety regulations in place—” Inoue is saying, fingers curled around the knife that still says Uryuu Ishida. Tatsuki attempts to placate her with a long-suffering expression. 

“Maybe he’d already left before you came— hi, Ichigo.”

“Hello, Kurosaki-kun! And ridiculous— I was there at 6 a.m. in the morning. What sort of self-respecting college student wakes up before then?”

“6 a.m.?! Orihime, that’s. That’s stalking—”

“Stalking’s not stalking if it’s done in the name of free cup noodles—” 

“Stalking is always stalking! God, whatever, we’re continuing this another time. Anyway, Ichigo, did you hear? Some nutjob got onto campus with an actual knife.” 

Ichigo flinches. “What? Jesus. I hope Chad’s ok. Where’d you hear that from?”

“From the r.a. over there.” Tatsuki points with a chin, and indeed, several r.a.s are in deep discussion, all of them with a serious look on their face. “They’re gonna make an announcement about it soon. Apparently it’s a scrawny dude, black hair in a ponytail, wearing a dirty white hoodie and jeans. There’s police cars arriving, shit’s crazy.” 

“I’ll say.” At least it was a knife and not a gun, Ichigo thinks, toying idly with his own plastic knife. He halfheartedly scans the crowd, looking for any unfamiliar faces— surprisingly, he finds that he knows most of them already, by sight if not by name. He wonders if any of them are Rukia Kuchiki, and finds himself hoping that, wherever she was, she was somewhere safe. 

It’d be a bit of a downer if she was actually murdered before he managed to get around to it. 

The gym doors open again to let some of the stragglers in, and Ichigo allows his attention to be turned by the motely crew that walk in: a tall, thin man who is built rather like a stick insect, a hulking guy who looks about as wide as he’s tall, and a smaller, scrawny dude who is wearing nothing but a towel as a fundoshi around his waist (goddammit, Ichigo thought that tactic had died out by the first week). And, almost buried by the mass of bodies around her, a head full of green hair. 

Ichigo blinks, and then he starts pushing through the crowd to get to her. 

“Hey. HEY! NELIEL! WE GOTTA CONTINUE OUR CONVERSATION FROM EARLIER!”

Neliel looks up in his direction, and frantically starts mouthing no at him. Ichigo doesn’t give a shit. He’s going to find out who Rukia Kuchiki is, and he’s going to find out now.

“Don’t give me that crap! You said you’d tell me later! Well, it’s later now, so out with it—”

“No, I swear to god, Ichigo, not now—”

“Ichigo?” The stick insect dude suddenly looks viciously interested, and Neliel claps a hand over her mouth. “As in, Ichigo Kurosaki?”

Neliel shakes her head. Ichigo glares at stick insect dude. 

“If I am, who the fuck are you?”

Nel buries her face in her hands, and stick insect dude smiles— and shit, can people even smile that wide? Ichigo feels a chill run down his spine. 

“Your death,” stick insect dude says, and he lunges. 

Scrawny dude, black hair in a ponytail, wearing a dirty white hoodie and jeans.

Ichigo sees the glint of a knife held in his hands, and suddenly realises he’s going to die—

“No!”

That is, until a short, black-haired blur shoots out from the crowd and jumps in front of the knife meant for him. 

It sinks in to the hilt, and Ichigo watches the girl’s eyes widen in shock with a horror that robs him of his own voice. 

________________________________________________________

Both girl and assailant crumple to the ground, and Ichigo’s frantic with worry; he reaches the girl first, hoists her up onto his lap, expecting blood. She was so small; what the hell was she thinking, jumping out in front of him?! She coughs, great big hacking things that he wouldn’t expect from someone her size, and Ichigo holds her around her shoulders, worried out of his mind. 

“Are you ok? Hold on— where did he stab you? Are you bleeding—”

In response, the girl wipes her mouth with the back of her hand and lunges at the felled assailant. 

“You missed, you cowardly shitstain, I don’t know what you’re doing on a campus but you’re going to rot in jail for this—” 

“Young lady—! Enough! Back away and let the cops deal with this—”

“Nnoitra! I told you to leave that stupid knife behind, you idiot—”

“Ow! OW! Don’t just fucking watch, Nel, get this crazy woman off me, what the fuck—” 

“ENOUGH!” The r.a.’s have made their way over by now, and manage to separate the two brawling figures; stick insect dude is being held back by Nel and her two other friends, while the girl is being restrained by an r.a. Ichigo sits on the floor between them, feeling like he just missed something. 

“Wait, hang on, what’s— what just happened— didn’t you get stabbed?” he asks the girl, who is looking very un-stabbed. She glares at stick insect dude. 

“He missed,” she spits, and stick insect dude howls in indignation. 

“I did not miss!” he hisses, and throws a crumpled plastic knife onto the ground. “I had him! I would have had him straight in the gut if it hadn’t been for you jumping in for your boyfriend!!! The fuck, dude! This is sabotage! What have you got against me winning cup noodles?!”

Ichigo stares at the plastic knife bearing his name, crushed like an empty aluminium drink can, and slowly starts piecing the incident together. 

“Wait— so you're—”

“And now I've lost the element of surprise. You scrawny little bitch,” Nnoitra snaps, and Ichigo thinks, a little wildly, that he had no business going around calling anyone else scrawny. He eyes the limp black hair and dirty white hoodie of his assailant and attempts to make sense of the chaos around him. 

“You’re— you had my knife—?”

Nnoitra rolls his eyes. “What, can’t you see? You impaired or some shit?” 

“Oh my god, Nnoitra,” Neliel groans. “Can you keep your big fat mouth shut for half a second—”

“Oh,” comes a small sound from the black-haired girl, and Ichigo turns to see her slowly flushing crimson. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Nnoitra mocks, before Neliel smacks him in the head. “Ow! Nel, you bitch, she is clearly the one in the wrong here, would you knock it off—”

“Well, what the hell was I supposed to think?!” the girl demands, now completely red but with an indignant expression on her face. “You matched the description for the armed intruder perfectly! Not to mention, who plays Murder like they're actually trying to kill someone?!”

“This is why I was trying to warn you,” Nel says to Ichigo in an exasperated aside. “And those are just his last set of clean clothes.”

There's a short silence as everyone digests her words, Ichigo and the girl both eyeing Nnoitra’s hoodie like they seriously doubted Nel’s definition of ‘clean’.

The girl clears her throat and speaks for all of them. “Gross.”

Nnoitra flings himself against Nel’s restraint. “You bitch, I'll fucking cut you up—”

“Enough!” an adult finally makes their way onto the scene, and everyone looks at the harried professor with varying levels of relief. The girl, in particular, lights up at the sight of him. 

“Professor Ukitake—!”

“What’s going on here?” he asks in a tired sort of way, and the r.a.s hasten to answer him. 

“A minor altercation— you know our dorm tradition, Murder—”

“Ah, that damn game,” he mutters, looking extremely distracted. His gaze sweeps over all of them, assessing the situation. “Nobody’s actually hurt, then?”

“No sir,” the girl answers, prompt. The professor nods at her, before turning to the r.a.s for the full story. By now, the police have made it into the evacuation area as well; the three parties convene for a minute or two, discussing the details in hushed voices, before they all turn to Nnoitra and Nel.

“In any case, Mr. Gilga,” Professor Ukitake says apologetically, “although it may be coincidental, it is true that you fit the description for the armed intruder rather perfectly, I’m afraid. The police would like you to accompany them to the station, just for a little while, until the intruder situation is solved. If that’s ok with you—?” 

“Wha— the hell it is! I was just tryna murder Kurosaki over there—” 

The professor winces. “Mr. Gilga….. That’s really not helping your cause there.” 

“Oh, c’mon, it’s just a game—” 

“I told you,” Nel interrupts witheringly. “I told you to leave your damn knife behind, didn’t I? Just go with the officers for now, Nnoitra. It’s just til they catch the real intruder, and quite frankly, I don’t trust you around Ichigo right now.” 

“Don’t be a sore loser, Nel, just because I murdered you last night—” 

Two policemen place a hand each on Nnoitra’s shoulders and escort him out, Nnoitra complaining the whole time but not daring to retaliate. Nel shakes her head and makes an apologetic face in the direction of the smaller girl. “God, I told him… sorry about all this, Di. I might go with him just to make sure he doesn’t get himself arrested… you really alright? Not hurt anywhere?” 

“Who do you think I am?” the girl scoffs. “I’m fine. Never did understand why you’re friends with him, though.”

Nel grimaces. “Yeah, sometimes I wonder that, too. Anyway, I’ll see you later at the gym, we can talk about this then.” 

“Tell your stick insect friend not to lunge at people with knives in the future, whether they’re plastic or not.” 

“Will do. Bye!” with another apologetic half-wave, Neliel and her two other friends take off after Nnoitra. Ichigo, still feeling somewhat bemused by the proceedings, finally turns and manages to get a good look at his…. saviour(?), for lack of a better word. 

She’s short. That’s his first impression, the fact that she is so goddamn short and good lord, she might actually, literally be just half his size, if the way the top of her head only comes up to his chest is any indication. Aside from the height (or lack thereof), she seems fairly nondescript: short black bob, black leggings and a t-shirt with a flannel tied around her waist. She notices him staring and holds out a hand. 

“Diana. We could have met in less embarrassing circumstances, but I guess as first meetings go ‘jumped in front of a knife for you’ isn’t a bad start. You alright?” 

Ichigo takes the proffered hand and is promptly surprised by the firmness of her grip. “Fine. I feel like I should be the one asking you, though. You're the one that got stabbed.”

Diana rolls her eyes. “Please. As if anything wielded by a guy that skinny would ever be able to hurt me.” She grins, all teeth, and whoa, Ichigo may have to reconsider that first assessment of her. He’s suddenly flustered, red dusting the skin over his cheekbones as he tries to come up with a response. She has the bluest eyes he's ever seen. 

Thankfully, the professor from earlier spares him. “Miss Kuchiki!” he calls, and Diana turns— he wants to have a few words with her, it seems, and she gestures to him that she'd be over soon. She turns back to Ichigo to say goodbye. 

“Well, take care, I guess I'll see you around--"

Something clicks in his brain like lightning, and he catches her by the wrist. 

“Wait. Kuchiki—? Like, Kuchiki as in Byakuya Kuchiki Kuchiki? Kuchiki as in the Kuchiki Wing in the Main Library Kuchiki? As in one of the shareholders of our university Kuchiki? That Kuchiki?”

“Shut up, fool, not so loud—!” She snatches her wrist back and looks around worriedly, though by now people’s attentions have moved on from them. She answers him in a resigned tone. “Yes, that Kuchiki. He’s my brother. It's not something I like to advertise.” 

Ichigo’s mind is teeming like a nest of ants. “Why— no, never mind that question. Diana’s not a Japanese name, though--"

“It's my English name, obviously,” she snaps. “If you wanted my full name it is Rukia Kuchiki. Why are you so interested in my name anyway? Shouldn't you at least tell me yours first?”

A slow grin spreads over his face; the kind of grin that Tatsuki had once told him made him look like the supervillain in a bad shounen. He takes a step in closer to her, and Diana— Rukia, irritated, stands her ground. 

His hand slips into his pocket. 

“I'm Ichigo Kurosaki,” he tells her. 

In one fluid motion, he pulls out his own knife and taps her with it on the shoulder. Those blue eyes of hers widen first in disbelief, and then in outrage. 

“You— no. No, you can't possibly— you couldn't!!”

“Nice to meet you, Rukia Kuchiki,” he smirks, flipping the plastic knife over to display her name. 

Rukia closes her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose, like she has a headache coming on. 

Then she opens her eyes, takes a deep breath, and socks him in the face. 

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #348

“nothing will be free  /  nothing will be done  /  black out the sun”

Do you have any famous relatives? My third or so cousin is the author of Not Without My Daughter, but she's not like a smash hit or anything that most people know. I really do recommend the book, though. It's a long read, but a beautiful, true story. Do you care about celebrity gossip? Nah. Have you ever failed a science course in high school? No; I was very good at science. What’s your favorite breakfast food? Cinnamon rolls. Does your house have a basement? No. No house I've ever lived in has had one. Do you like Hot Topic? Well duh. Do you think imagination is valuable? VERY! Just imagine how many incredible things wouldn't exist without it. What was your reaction to your first time falling in love? Unspeakably happy, and I felt like I was building a future with someone. I felt like I had purpose, which I should mention to anyone reading is a mindset to NEVER adopt. No one gives you purpose; you're born with it. How much weight can you lift at once? Ha, not a lot. When you have your own house someday, what color Christmas tree do you want and how will you decorate it? I want a black one with faux snow on the branches, then maybe red ornaments. Kinda look like blood dripping off. Sounds metal. Name three YouTube channels you’ve been loving lately. Lately, John Wolfe, The Dark Den, and Aim To Head Mix. Have you ever bought a designer purse? No. Do you wear jewelry often? No. What color was your senior prom dress? Black. Are you colorblind? No. Name the people you know who are colorblind. Jason's older brother is colorblind to two colors, but idr which. Would you ever consider a career in writing? I'd love to. What was your first favorite color? Red. What do you think about horror movies? I love them. If you love them, what’s your favorite? I really enjoy The Crazies and both The Blair Witch Project movies. Oh, and of course Silent Hill. Got any cool Christmas presents picked out for family or friends yet? I don't have the money to get anyone presents... and while I sometimes get ideas about something I could make someone, then it wouldn't be fair to the rest of my family if I don't make them something, too. What’s your favorite word and why? I really like the sound of "serendipity," as well as its meaning. It's just a pretty, nice word. Do you like to do craft projects? If so, what’s the coolest thing you made? Not really... I think the coolest thing I made was when I put the clay heart I made in Art into a shadowbox, and a poem I wrote was in the background. It was a gift for Jason. I remember working really hard on the whole process and being really happy with it. I don't want to know what he's done with it since. What’s one occupation you think gets paid too much and doesn’t deserve to? I don't know. What’s something you are currently saving money for to buy? Everyone knows about Venus' terrarium by now... Do you smoke/vape? If so, what brand do you smoke/what device do you use? No. Ever done drugs? No. Tell me one of your worst habits. Catastrophizing. I take a tiny seed of something potentially bad, and in seconds it's a damn redwood tree. And I do mean "in seconds." What’s a weird quirk you have that no one else you know does? I don't know, I don't have any particularly unique ones, I think. If you game, what type of headset do you use? I just use earbuds. Do you think you would be a good therapist? You know, it's funny, I've actually pictured myself as one a few times, given my level of understanding and empathy for people, as well as how deeply I want to see others succeed and spread the word that recovery from things like depression is very possible. I've never truly entertained the thought, though, given I'm quite sure I legally couldn't be given my suicidal past and mental illnesses. There is also NO way I could listen to so many people's suffering and manage to stay healthy myself, so, no therapist position for me, thanks. Have you ever been to a Chinatown? No. Do you prefer chunky or creamy peanut butter? Creamy, 100%. Do you stop to pick up heads-up pennies? No. Do your pets have collars? Describe them: Roman has an adorable navy one with a bowtie. Do you have any friends that speak any languages you don’t understand? Old friends, sure. What is something you want to begin learning? I want to improve my ability to perform what in therapy is called "opposite action," where you do the opposite of what your depression (or other conditions) make you want to do. It always helps me feel good, like when I draw even when I don't initially feel like it, but it's rough to really force yourself to do it. What is a food you find comforting when you are sad? Ice cream is my comfort food. What is a quote you find comfort in? There are really a lot, but none come to mind immediately, gah. What is one Tumblr blog you really appreciate? I actually haven't been on my main Tumblr in months, but oh my god there is a Markiplier blog called "lady-raziel" and she is FUCKING HYSTERICAL. The meme quality is A+. What is a comfort movie/show for you? When I actually liked watching movies, I enjoyed watching Silent Hill when I was down. That whole franchise just makes me so happy. What is a recent creative project that you are proud of? That I'm PROUD of, idk. I'm not that happy with the last drawing I made, and I haven't done any serious writing lately that I find noteworthy. What is a video game that you find comforting? Shadow of the Colossus is probably #1. I find it so relaxing while equally epic as fuck. The soundtrack is to die for, and after playing it a billion times, it's pretty easy for me to kinda breeze through and just enjoy myself. Do you know how to bake bread? If so, what is something you’ve baked recently? No. Would you rather live in the mountains, city, beach, or the forest? THE MOUNTAINS!!! Particularly in the woods IN the mountains! Are you closer to your mother’s or father’s side of the family? Mom's. I don't even remember anyone from Dad's. Have you ever been in a “perfect relationship”? I thought so. Have you ever lost a fingernail or toenail? No. Were you a Disney or Nickelodeon kid? I preferred Disney. Have you ever been inside a jail/prison? No, and I don't plan on it. Have you ever dated a guy with a beard, mustache, or goatee? Jason had a goatee usually. He'd go clean-shaven sometimes. Did you ever name your stuffed animals? I named every single one I got as a kid. Now I don't, really, unless they're really special. What’s the name of the person who cuts your hair? I'd rather not share, given her name is very unique. Do you like cheeseburgers? Yes, they're one of my favorite foods. Do you have a Flickr? Yes, but I don't use it anymore. Did you ever want to be a fashion designer? No. Do you drink milk? Yeah, I love milk. Where was your FB display pic taken? My room. Have you ever burnt your tongue like REALLY bad? If so, what on? Yeah; white rice. My dumb ass didn't realize it had JUST come off the stove. My tongue hurt literally for weeks. Have you ever gotten your legs waxed? No. Do you own any CLOTHES from Victoria’s Secret? Er, are undergarments not clothes? But I know what you mean. No. What are your grandfathers’ names? William and... I can't remember Dad's dad's name. Have you ever seen a snake in real life? Well yeah. Are you against seances? I don't know if I believe in them being effective, but either way, they seem like a bad idea. Even risking luring a negative energy/spirit to you is something I'd stay away from. Do you own any superhero shirts? No, just Harley Quinn ones, some with the Joker on them, too. I need to toss 'em though because I am like, violently against romanticizing their abusive relationship. I used to just like them as a story character couple, but I got to a place where it just seemed... wrong to "glorify" it by wearing merch and stuff. What band has the best guitar solos? Metallica, durrrr. Who is the biggest jerk you’ve ever met? Can you believe that would be my former best friend? Have you ever swerved off the road to avoid hitting an animal? I've never had an animal in my path. Have you ever grown your own herbs? No. Do you like kissing in public? If you're my serious s/o, I could care less, so long as it's a simple peck. I'm not making out in front of people. Do you think someone has feelings for you? I don't know. Do you want to be in a relationship this year? I don't know. I'm lonely and love feels amazing, but I need to get my life on track before I can be a good partner to someone and not just dead weight. Has anyone told you they don’t want to ever lose you? Huh, funny, he's the one that walked away. How long can you just kiss until your hands start to wander? Uhhh that would depend on how serious we are, where we are, and just what mood I'm in. What’s the sweetest thing anyone’s ever done for you? ugh What’s the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for someone? also ugh What’s your dirtiest secret? TMI AHEAD. Probably receiving oral while bare-ass naked on the chaise in the living room while we were home alone. Or having sex in my sister’s bed. Oops. Would you ever get lyrics tattooed on yourself? Yeah. I already do, anyway, and I plan on getting another. Can you photoshop images well? I'm decent at it. Where did you last drive to? Mom and I went to go get our Covid vaccines today. What’s the first verse of the last song you listened to? "I don't know what we're supposed to be, but I know we lost it along the way to something better, something so much more than pleasure that we seek, so blind inside to fill these holes left by these lies that we tell to ourselves as we manufacture our own hell." What do you hear right now? The aforementioned song: "BLACKOUT" by 3TEETH. What was the last thing you laughed about? This is so fucking immature lmao but when we were driving earlier, we passed a gas station that had a sign that was advertising Coke, but due to space limitations, it abbreviated to "2 liter Cok" and I cackled like a child. Mom laughed harder than I did. Do you know any gay people personally? Ye. What was the last thing that startled you? I think it was a car hoonking at somebody the other day. What was the last thing to make you even remotely sad? Today's been a kind of rough PTSD day thanks to Facebook. My old high school friend had her beautiful daughter, a childhood friend just got married the other day, another friend is due to have her baby in just a couple weeks... It's just weird but even more painful to know it was the life I once fantasized about with a guy that just dropped me and made a break for it. I hate admitting that there's this deep, deep bitterness in me about it, like he took my life away from me, even though that's of course very unfair to say. I don't want to talk about this anymore, so moving on with my day.

[etherealwaifgoddess]

Somewhere Only We Know

Main Characters: Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Since joining the Avengers you can’t seem to get any alone time with Bucky. You take matters into your own hands and find a creative solution to get the handsome super soldier back in your arms.

Warnings/ Content: Referenced sex. It’s all off screen and nothing is blatantly stated. 

Dialogue prompt: “Pleeeeaaase, can we just step away for a little bit? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” 

Word Count: 1.5k

Author’s Note: Hello lovelies! This is my little entry for Lani’s 3rd Mysterious Writing Challenge for the oh-so-talented @propertyofpoeandbucky. She’s amazing ya’ll. If you haven’t read anything by her yet I *highly* recommend you go take a look at her stuff. I hope you enjoy this Lani!! Thank you for hosting such a fun challenge :) 

Somewhere Only We Know

(title from the song by Keane)

It wasn’t often you had time alone with Bucky. If it was up to the universe, you’d have none at all. Since joining the Avengers you found yourself constantly surrounded by various members of the eclectic group. Whether you were on missions or just lounging around the tower on your day off, there was always someone, most times multiple someones, around. It was like living in a college dorm all over again, and that was not an experience you were happy to repeat. Especially while you were trying to flirt with a certain centenarian ex-assassin. 

You’d had one blissful week together when Bucky came to recruit you. He’d found you in a crappy motel outside Philadelphia, hiding out after your powers had manifested on live TV in an almost horrific incident at a NFL game. A bomb had gone off during half time and you managed to get a protective force field around it in time for the bomb to implode inside the bubble without harming anyone. Of course, a girl with purple energy flowing around her who was able to save thousands of lives garnered a lot of attention from both the good guys and the bad ones. You had been on the run for two weeks when Bucky finally caught up with you. 

You were his first recruitment mission and he was determined to bring you in to join the team. You weren’t certain about being an Avenger but you were sure about getting him in bed. The super soldier’s thighs gave you a brand new appreciation of the word thicc. You’d spent the next six days enjoying each other’s company until Steve showed up, thinking he could help Bucky convince you to come back with them. You had never seen someone blush so hard their ears turned red. Steve was blessedly oblivious and you returned with them the next day.

After you returned to the tower with the guys your life had been a blur of training and practice. Bucky and you both agreed to keep what had happened to yourselves, not wanting it to potentially impact your ability to join the Avengers. You sparred with Nat, learned marksmanship from Clint, practiced controlling your powers with Wanda, jogged with Steve and Sam, and picked up a little basic first aid from Bruce. You knew it was important to be learning all that you could, to get yourself ready for the inevitable first mission, but you still missed Bucky. You’d barely get ten minutes alone with him at a time, never quite enough to make good use of it. 

It was a month into your training when you’d hit your limit. Bucky was too shy to slip off to your room at night, he was still sharing an apartment with Steve and his absence would be obvious. You started looking for out of the way places you might be able to slip off to unnoticed together. There were a few regular times that your day intersected with Bucky’s so you strategized when you would be able to make your move. You just hoped Bucky was still interested. Though the way he’d had to excuse himself last week when your shirt rode up while sparring with Nat seemed to indicate he was. 

You were cleaning up the kitchen after lunch, packing away the last of the leftovers, when Bucky walked into the room. He was still sweaty from his workout and the sight of his grey joggers riding low on his hips made your mouth go dry. It was now or never. “Hey Buck.” you greeted him with a welcoming smile. 

“Hey, Y/N. Are there any sandwiches left?” he asked while refilling his water bottle from the tap on the fridge.

“There are, or I could go show you the new wing of the bionics lab they’re building.” 

“What? I thought they’d stopped construction on that until Spring?”

“They did. But you see, it’s all the way up on the twenty second floor and no one ever goes up there.”

“Then why would we… oh.” Bucky’s eyes widened as he realized what you were implying. 

“Oh.” you echoed, nodding your head. “So what are you more hungry for, Barnes? The sandwich, or me?” 

Bucky blinked a moment at your blatant proposition before his brain got on board and you raced to the elevators. 

It became a habit, meeting up in the abandoned construction of what would eventually be an extension of Stark’s bionics lab. It was always frantic, heated, and absolutely amazing. You were dreading Spring’s arrival when you’d lose your hideaway. Hopefully by then your relationship would be able to be public. 

After an agonizingly long mission away, Bucky returned to the tower, tac gear covered in grime and still reeking of smoke. The second you locked eyes on him, you desperately wanted to get him alone. You wanted to help ease the tension in his shoulders and sadness in his eyes, take his mind off of whatever he had endured for a little while. 

Everyone was gathered in the common room while Tony gave a mission report to the rest of the team. It wasn’t ideal but you were undeterred. 

“Hey.” you whispered quietly to Bucky, knowing his super soldier hearing would pick up your words.

“Hiya, doll.” he answered, making sure his voice was just loud enough for you, and you alone, to hear.

“Wanna go up to our spot? They’ll never miss us.” 

“We should hang around ‘til Stark is done.” he whispered with a frown.

“Pleeeeaaase, can we just step away for a little bit? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” you begged, “We’ll be quick, they won’t even notice we’re gone.” 

Bucky sighed and you could tell he was relenting. 

You were exiting the elevators, ready to slip back into the common room unnoticed barely twenty minutes later. Tony’s debrief meetings were usually an hour, so you should have still had plenty of time. Bucky went first, phantom silent as he slid back to his place along the back wall of the room. You waited a heart beat before making your way back to your spot next to him. It should have been perfect, you had practiced your stealth moves with Nat and were getting pretty damn good. Unfortunately your best laid plans were all taken down by a chip. 

Clint had helped himself to a bag of potato chips from the snack bowl and he crunched into one loudly right as you appeared in the doorway. Everyone’s eyes snapped over to the source of the sound and saw your attempted sneaking in the background. It might not have been too suspicious if it weren’t for the smudge of soot on your neck and your deer in the headlights expression. The fact that you’d buttoned two of your blouse buttons wrong in your hurry was just icing on the cake. Bucky’s eyes widened in silent panic as he realized you were busted and he stayed frozen in place as you laughed nervously, eyes scanning the shocked expressions of your team mates. 

Finally, Tony cleared his throat. “Wow. Robo Cop and our own little Glow Worm.” he shook his head in amused disbelief, “Good job, Glow Worm. Robo Cop, don’t make me give you the shovel talk, capiche? Now, let’s get back to work.” 

Everyone else was too stunned to comment so you just slunk back to your spot next to Bucky. “So much for discrete.” you whispered with an apologetic smile. 

“It was inevitable.” he shrugged.

“At least we won’t have to sneak upstairs to fool around now.” 

“I don’t know, doll. I kinda like having somewhere only we know.” 

“Love birds!” Tony shouted, startling you both. “Do you want to pay attention to the class, or do you want to go back upstairs and keep defiling my almost-lab?” 

The two of you cringed in unison. 

“So much for that.” you chuckle quietly, nudging Bucky in the ribs. “Sorry Tony!” you shout back.

“Wait? What!? Were you really? I was just taking a stab in the dark there. Oh god, my new lab! FRIDAY, get a hazmat crew up to the twenty second floor, stat! And you two. Ohhh you, two. Please, I beg of you. Go make use of one of the many beds we have here at Avengers Tower, preferably your own.” 

Bucky blushed fiercely, his ears adorably on fire.

“I don’t want to see either one of you until noon tomorrow at the earliest. Go on now, shoo.” Tony waved his hands at you dismissively. 

“The boss said so.” you shrugged at Bucky with a flirty smile. 

Bucky grinned wolfishly at you, “Orders are orders.” he said before scooping you up in his arms. 

You let out a little squeak as Bucky carried you off and you could hear Tony resuming his debriefing in the distance. It wasn’t the most ideal way for the team to find out, but somehow you couldn’t seem to mind at all. 

[matchacloudz]

Finally Free

“It’s okay, I’m right here”

Bradley Simpson x fem!reader

Rating: PG-13

word count: 2.3K

Trigger warning: Drug use (heavily mentioned)

A/N: I was heavily inspired by the 2015 movie ‘Perfect High,’ it’s sort of intense but I recommend watching it – even if the writing is a little cringy like mine lol

I don’t know if when we first met, it was fate or an accident.

It was late night; the party inside was getting too much for me to handle and I had decided to have a breath of fresh air. Everyone was smoking, I’m no stranger, hell sometimes I even supply. We had weed, cigarettes, even some other questionable substances. I didn’t know what was being passed around anymore, I was taking hits left and right, but I was reaching my limit, my current high not going away anytime soon.

When I had opened the door, I accidentally pushed someone forward, immediately I went to apologize, but his deep brown eyes were pulling me into a cloudy trance.

It felt as if I was swimming underwater, and he was there leading me through the waves. Some would say, that was love at first sight, but I knew better than that.

“Hey, are you alright?” He asked, placing a hand on my shoulder to keep me from swaying. His touch was comforting, something different; but something that I liked. I smiled at this unidentified boy and leaned into his touch, his other hand moving to my waist, helping me keep my balance. “Her pupils are huge dude; I’ll get some water” another voice said. I raised my hand to salute the voice and leaned forward, losing balance all together – but the first boy was still there. “How high are you?” He asked, but it was different than what tone I was used to. I guess I took too long to answer as the hand on my waist led me to the closet chair, but I had other plans. “Let’s go swimming! Come on the weather is perfect!” I suggested, pulling his hand with me.

The unnamed boy followed me but stopped before I could jump in. “Let’s just sit, yeah? Want to get to know you some” he said, pulling me down; allowing me to still dangle my feet into the heated water. “Do you mind if I smoke? This head rush is killing me” I had asked the question but still proceeded to pull my cigarettes out of my clutch. “Be my guest” he muttered.

“So, what’s your name then?” He asked, sipping whatever he had in his cup. “I’m y/n, but everyone calls me Jelly,” he raised his eyebrow at me, clearly wanting an explanation for the childish nickname, but he was going to have to work for it. “What about you?” “Sorry, should have started with that, I’m Brad.” We sat in silence for a bit, I was lost in my own mind, the high slowly starting to come down and him infatuated with me.

Not soon after, his friend came back, to give Brad the water, and Brad to me. “How are you doing?” He asked as I basically gulped the water down, not realizing how dry my throat really was. “It’s starting to come down, thanks,” I said. “I’ve seen you around here before, can’t really place why,” Brad said, turning from the pool view to me. “Is that why you keep staring at me?” I asked, swinging my legs, feeling the water ripple around my ankles. “Didn’t you use to be on the cheer team?” He asked, avoiding my question. My breath hitched in my throat, I used to. It was the first thing I actually liked about the college we went to.

“I’ve never met you, how do you know that?” I laid down on the pavement surrounding the pool. Looking up at the clear sky. “We’ve gone to the same school for 2 years now y/n, I know your name” Brad responded. “What do you want? To tell me off? Ask me what happened? ‘Cause if you are, you can line up with everyone else” I said, collecting my things and walking off.

Over the next few weeks, I went spiraling again. I thought everyone had forgotten what happened. I mean, it was all over social media, I was humiliated.

4 months ago

We were performing at a football game and during one of our stunts, the ball was thrown in our direction, hitting me in the chest – I was pushed, and my bases had missed catching me. I tried catching myself, cradling so I wouldn’t get as much damage, but it led to a dislocated shoulder. After that, I was put on some pretty heavy pain relievers, it was supposed to help manage, but word got around.

I had met my friend, Margot. She saw me in the hallway taking a dose of pills and asked if I could spare one. Until that moment, I had never thought of abusing pills in that way. I was by no means a straight-A student or the star cheerleader. But I had promised my parents that when I went away to college I would take care of myself and never do anything dangerous.

Margot didn’t seem dangerous, she didn’t seem like she would do anything to hurt me. We started taking pills until I ran out of refills, but we always found more. I started hanging out with her friends, I started missing cheer and soon got kicked off the team. I had fallen into a depression, the one thing I enjoyed about college was now gone.

But Margot, Danny, Sean, and the pills were always there. They sympathized with me, they protected me, and soon, they became my crutch.

I haven’t seen any of them around school lately. It wasn’t strange for any of us to go off the grid, whether its something personal or not, but we would always talk. Until, this time. We didn’t – they didn’t. I would try, text, call, Instagram, you name it. I had lost all contact with the 3 people who meant most to me.

I lost everything.

Brad was always there though, he always found me whenever I was alone and he always came to me. We were developing a friendship, but it was hard. He wasn’t a perfect kid either, but he had a good head on his shoulders and would never touch the things I was doing. He sort of became my conscience, trying to help me with what I was going through.

That’s how we ended up here, in my dorm room, him holding my hair back as I threw up after a night of heavy drinking. I had slowly stopped the pills, with the help of a very patient Bradley, he was always there for me – stubbornly staying by my side as the worst of the withdrawals were happening. I had almost started spiraling, but he was always there for me, helping me out of the dark places.  But you can’t stop a habit unless you replace it with something else.  

I started smoking more, but he insisted I had moved to vape – it wasn’t much healthier, but Brad had said it was an improvement. I couldn’t just have that though, it didn’t alter my mind, it didn’t give me the same high I was so desperately craving.

We walked into a party, Bradley’s hand on my waist. Every time he touched me was like the first, but I knew he just wanted to keep me close – monitor what I was drinking tonight. It was sweet and kind that he was looking out for me so much, but I could tell he was getting tired of being sober all the time – just to babysit me.

A few hours in I was tipsy, not the usual drunk, but that’s because my best friend had taken my third bottle away, trying to get me to stop. “Bradley, if you don’t give me that bottle right now, I swear to god” I jokingly threatened, staring at him from across the pong table. “Jelly, you’ve had enough, come on” his voice sounded so tired like he was sick of having this argument. “Brad! I’ve only had two bottles! I can handle a third!” I yelled stepping closer trying to recover my bottle. He moved one arm back, and the other on my stomach keeping me at bay. I reached my arms up to try to grab the bottle again when I saw three people enter the party behind him.

And my heart broke into three pieces.

Bradley saw my eyes dilate, immediately knowing something was wrong. The longer I looked at the people who just entered the door, the more I got furious. Nothing could stop what I was going to do, not even him.

I marched up to Margot, Danny, and Sean – all three of them looking excited to see me. “Jel-“WHACK! The sound of the slap delivered to her cheek was enough to draw attention from everyone around us in this small room. Soon eyes were on us, but I wasn’t done yet.

“Where the fuck have you been” I screamed, tears already pooling in my eyes. Sean pulled Margot out of my reach, checking the damage to her now bruising cheek. “Y/n what the fuck was that?” Danny asked, placing his hands on my shoulders, but I brushed him off, moving to slap him too. He was too fast for me, just like he always has been. “It’s been 7 months! Where the fuck have you been?” I screamed. He opened his mouth to answer but I wasn’t done yet. “I have been waiting, I have been looking for my best friends to show up at school and things would go back to how they were. But you three all dropped off the face of the earth! Not a fucking call or text! No warning!” I yelled, tears freely streaming my face, ruining my makeup.

Bradley came behind me with my things in one hand and grasped my waist in the other. “Y/n let’s go. Come on.” But again, I pushed him off me. I was fuming, my blood boiling and my skin heating. “I have waited. For so long, just hoping for even a sign of life from any of you, and I get nothing.” I stared at my ex-boyfriend in the eyes, pupils dilated and red. He was high.

Shaking my head, I slowly backed away from him. “You’re fucking high, I – I can’t believe this” I whispered the last part before running out the front door and down the street. I didn’t know where I was going, but I needed to get out of there.

I kept running until I fell to my knees, scraping both and ruining my tights. I couldn’t believe they were there. Part of me was glad, they were alive. But I was heartbroken, I went 7 months without a single word from any of them. The optimistic part of me was hoping they were in rehab and weren’t allowed on their phones, but seeing how big Danny’s pupils were, I knew they left.

Without me.

I didn’t even try to stop the tears from falling down my eyes, I couldn’t stop them even if I tried. I felt like shit, I had sobered up, I knew what had happened. All these thoughts, all these emotions were swirling through my head – I couldn’t help it. I folded over and emptied my stomach.

As I laid there on the cool grass, I felt someone gently lift my head and place it in their lap. “It’s okay Jelly, I’m right here. I won’t leave you.”

At his words I just cried, letting my mascara stain my cheeks. I’ve never felt like this before, not even the withdrawals felt as shitty as this did. I felt as though my heart had physically been removed, ripped in two and placed back in my chest as separate pieces. His hand was soothing my hair, trying his best to comfort me.

Bradley and I laid there until the sun started coming up on the horizon. “Why did this have to happen? Why did they have to come back?” I asked, rubbing the black marks off my face. “I don’t know y/n, I wish I did, wish I could say anything,” he said. “I don’t understand why it had to be me, you know? Things were finally going okay. I stopped what they led me to, I was finally starting to feel better” I said. “I know Jelly, I know. But hey, I’m here, and I won’t leave you. I know what you’ve gone through, it was hell and back, and I guess this is the second wave. But look at you, you stopped doing pills! You’re not drinking as much, and you’re attending school more. You’re doing so much better than when I first met you. You’ve improved so much, you have that. What do those three have?” I smiled at his little inspiration speech. “A bruised cheek” I giggled, earning a smile from Brad.

I leaned into his embrace once more, listening to the sounds around me. The birds were starting to chirp, the warm breeze had picked up and the fountain was trickling. I was at peace, everything that had happened to me was in the past. I felt as though I had finally moved on, and I had Bradley to thank for that.

“You need to give yourself more credit Jelly. You’ve overcome so much; you’ve changed so much and it’s for the better. Words cannot express how proud of you I am” he whispered into my hair. “You’re my guardian angel Bradley. You’re the reason I’ve been doing so well, you’ve never left my side. Please, never leave me.” I held my pinky finger out, Brad shifted and linked his pinky with mine, “never, in a million years” he said, kissing my head.

[zarfm]

» • * — ( benjamin wadsworth , cis male , he/him ) . i think i hear underdog by kasabian coming from apartment 2104. doesn’t balthazar ros live there ?? i heard they are a twenty-two year old chef from chicago , but they’ve been living in the apartments for two years . they come across a bit - wrathful and - rude , but they also seem like they could be + compassionate and + hardworking . whenever i see them , i think of denim jackets, guilty cigarettes, searching for a hug in a fist fight. oh , and don’t forget to follow them on instagram at tsar.zar ! ooc . ally, 22, she/her, est

hello y’all!!! i’ve been eying this rp for so long but have been. waiting until my mental state was Ready Enough to do it justice ! anyways, hello, my name is ally, i live in canada, i just got a job at walmart and i just learned how to french braid. those are my two biggest achievements during quarantine. anyways, this here is zar, he’s an emotional mess, please enjoy. there’s a quick novel-length introduction under the cut, but for more details, please click the following links. like for me to beg you for plots on discord !!!

full statistics. full biography. pinterest. wanted connections.

tw scars, emotional neglect, child abuse, physical abuse, 

statistics. 

full name. balthazar eduardo ros. nickname(s). zar. occupation. chef. age. twenty-two. date of birth. november 8th, 1997. nationality. american. ethnicity. mexican, iranian, english, ukrainian. orientation. bisexual/queer. gender & pronouns. cis male; he/him/his. religion. atheist.

height. 5’7”. weight. 145 lbs. eye color. brown. hair color + style. dark brown, curly, either styled haphazardly or pushed over his forehead. dominant hand. right-handed. distinguishing features. the scars on his face, that smirk, pretty boy eyes, and his plethora of tattoos.

biography. 

had a... pretty shitty childhood honestly. sure, both of his parents were wealthy, but his mother, who he lived with at first in los angeles, was not only constantly busy but also emotionally neglectful. when his nanny from basically birth to age three was fired without any notice to him, for example, he cried for days. and his mother’s solution was to only keep the same nanny for a month so zar wouldn’t get attached. 

he started to act out in school, because he, y’know, wasn’t getting any affection? and when therapy proved to be futile (meaning none of the therapists gave his mom the answer she wanted), she did the logical thing: blackmail your son’s father to taking him in or else she’d tell the whole world about their affair, and then put your six year old son on a plane to his father’s place alone without warning him or even telling him that he was going to live with his father. 

he still has nightmares about the flight attendant pulling him onto the plane while his mom walked away, impassive. no biggie. 

TO MAKE THINGS EVEN BETTER he was thrown straight into the lion’s den, living with his wealthy father and his picture-perfect family with five sons in chicago. of course, zar didn’t know that this man was his father until he was thirteen years old, but his stepmother figured it out almost immediately. and his brothers were all... spoiled brats, so she basically let them do whatever they wanted with him. i won’t get into specifics but imagine if you lived with five of your school bullies. 

it’s also around them he finally looked his mother up on facebook only to find that she was now married and pregnant with another kid. he’d been replaced. this is high-quality parenting 101, folks. 

food became... something of an important escape, for zar. he stopped eating with his family when he was about eight (it was basically a game of see how much we can abuse zar while the parents pretend he doesn’t exist), and started making his own little dinners. he associated dinners with the family meals he always saw on tv, portraying something he so yearned for; love, and family. to zar, cooking himself dinner each night became a way of practicing self-love. 

he also developed a habit of picking up strays; he fed one stray dog, she curled up in his lap and slept, and he was hooked forever. it was the most affection he’d ever received. no matter how long it took, be it hours or months, no matter how angry or antisocial the stray seemed, he’d do anything he could to win their trust. (in fact, he kind of liked the angry ones; they always turned out to be the sweetest.) 

he still acted out at school, had been diagnosed with conduct disorder and then oppositional defiant disorder. maybe he bit a psychiatrist or two who knows. and when he discovered who his father was and that everyone had been lying to him forever, well, he saw no need to hold back, now. he fought back. 

he became a bona fide Bad Boy, passed from boarding school to boarding school, expelled for a laundry list of reasons. public drunkenness, assault, sucking the housemaster’s son’s dick in the showers. his parents tried military school; he spat in his drill sergeant’s eye. 

finally, for his junior year, he was just put into public school in chicago. there, he was lucky enough to stumble upon the hospitality program, there, and fell back in love with cooking. this was the first thing in a long time he realized he could really do. sure, in an attempt to avoid his brothers he was now living in the attic, but still. life was looking up. 

with a shining letter of recommendation from his instructor and a killer portfolio, zar was able to get into the culinary institute of new york. it was during his senior year that he moved into ten 23, and he decided to stay for a while. this apartment is probably the first place he thinks of as a home. 

tl;dr abused son becomes a bad boy, learns to love via food and animals, moves to new york for school and career, 

personality. 

burnt marshmallow: smoky and crispy on the outside, ooey gooey on the inside. 

but theres a lot of smoky/crispy; he can be very rude and blunt, and he still has a hair-trigger temper. he’s working on it, though. 

honestly, he fits right in as a chef. even at the four star restaurant he works at, gideon’s, the entire cooking staff still swear like sailors. 

to keep his temper intact, he smokes (he hasn’t even tried to quit) and he also does amateur mma in his free time. 

sarcastic af. please someone tell him to shut the fuck up. 

still will stop everything if he sees a stray. the only thing that will maybe dissuade him is work, and even then he’ll show up a little late after he makes sure the dog has water. keeps cheap doggie bowls, a water bottle, and little ziplocs full of kibble on his person at all times. 

volunteers at the animal haven weekly. he still loves all the animals there. 

he also has four dogs and one cat that thinks she’s a dog. does ten 23 not allow pets? doesn’t matter. he still has illegal pets. rip his roommates. 

if he wants to make you feel better, he will cook for you. if he thinks you’re eating like shit, he will cook for you. if you’re hungry, he will cook for you. again, food is his way of showing love, and underneath it all he is a very loving person. 

vegan, but. has to handle non-vegan things as part of his job. but still a big vegan. 

horny 24/7. bi but only tops in emergencies. again, rip his roommates. 

never really had a real relationship because he. gets jealous enough as it is. is constantly paranoid that people will leave him. 

mom friend underneath it all. but like... an angry mom friend??? like he’ll nag you and tell you you shouldn’t have hooked up with your ex you basically asked for this but he’s doing this while making you cookies and peanut butter hot chocolate. 

lowkey highkey hates himself and although he pretends otherwise he has the self esteem of a thirteen year old at their first high school dance. 

[dark0angel13]

Battle Scars: Chapter Two

Natsu…

His name is like smoke on the wind, dissipating before he can put a name to the voice as he takes in his surroundings. It’s chaos. He can see Gray, face red with fury while he grips Natsu’s uniform like his life depended on it. His voice is shrill and Natsu winces at each syllable as it resonates through the air.  

Out of his line of sight another voice booms, sending a shiver racing down his spine. He can’t focus enough to hear the individual words spoken but the tone of it has his heart skipping into over drive. He knows this voice, could pick it out anywhere, but for the life of him he can’t remember a face to go with it. It’s female— strong and authoritative— barking commands like its second nature without losing its softness, and he feels at peace when he hears her speak.  

Natsu…

His name echos around him again and the scenery changes like a flash of lightning. Gray is gone and he’s left staring up into a blindingly white ceiling. He’s freezing, and the smell of antiseptic permeates the air. His body feels heavy and his head light as a new face comes into view. Don’t worry, the man says with confidence, I’ve got you now. Natsu can only nod frantically because speaking seems impossible as a mask is placed over his mouth. The smell is atrocious, making him cough before his vision begins to blur.  

“Natsu.”

His vision snaps into focus and his eyes settle on the woman before him, her look of concern trained on him and it’s a moment later that he realizes that he’s clutching the chair tight enough to rip the leather.  

“What?” His question hangs in the air like he doesn’t realize he had mentally checked out of his body and she sighs.  

“You were lost in though,” she crosses her legs and twirls the pen in between her fingers and for some reason he can’t place, Natsu feels exposed. “Did you remember anything?”  

“Explain to me again why I’m doing this?” He wills his muscles to relax but it only helps so much.  

“Because in cases like yours, when there is severe trauma, remembering how it happened and working through it can help you to cope with the reality of it all.” She speaks matter of fact and he has to resist the impulse to roll his eyes. Reality of it… it’s almost laughable.  

“I remember everything just fine Doc,” he snaps, fidgeting with the cuff of his jacket. “If anything I’d rather forget about it.”  

“Natsu,” Lucy speaks for the first time this session and for some reason it grates on his nerves. “There are days where you forget where you are. This is going to help-“  

“I don’t need you butting in,” He turns on her in an instant, fury flashing through his eyes, “you’re the one who came along with me. If you don’t like how I deal with it, then you can leave.”  

Lucy winces like he’s hit her and looks away, leaving him feeling hollow inside. Why was he so fucking angry?  

“Natsu I don’t think you mean that.” He turns to the shrink and scoffs.  

“So what do I mean then?” He crosses his arms.  

There’s a moment where she thinks and the way she stares right through him is off-putting.  

“I think you appreciate her worrying about you, but because you don’t yet know how to cope with the loss, your lashing out at the people closest to you in hopes of feeling anything other than the emptiness inside you.”  

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He’s defensive but averts his eyes. He knows exactly what she’s talking about.  

“How many times have you gotten into it with Gray? Or Erza?” She presses, and Natsu tries to sink further into his chair.  

“He’s gotten into a few fist fights with gray over the past few months, and when he speaks to Erza… it never ends well. That’s what got him a court martial.” Lucy’s voice is soft but to Natsu, it’s like explosions going off in his head and his nails dig into his arms. Why does she get on his nerves so damn much? He’s supposed to love her right?  

“Your file says you were medically discharged about two months ago, how have you been taking it?” The woman changes direction and looks to Natsu expectantly.  

“How do you think I’m taking it? It fucking sucks. I was good at what I did, and they kick me out for something stupid like that? After all I did?” He’s shouting now, flashes racing through his mind before it goes blank.  

“I think you’re taking your anger and frustration on the situation, out on lucy who is only trying  to help you. Gray as well.”  

“Gray is still active duty. He’s still overseas, doing the job I was supposed to be doing.” He snaps and out of the corner of his eye he can see Lucy flinch.  

“Do you remember what we talked about in your first session?” She changes direction again and he raises a brow. “About the five most stressful situations a person can experience?”  

“Yeah,” He grumbles. “Death, divorce, illness, job loss, and moving I think you said.” He’s honestly surprised he even remembered that much.  

“Good,” she smiles, “Do you remember what I said after that?”  

“No.” His answer is quick.  

“Humans are creatures of habit, of routine. We live our lives day by day, content with the commonality of doing the same things over and over. It gives us a sense of control over our lives. When that routine is interrupted or changed altogether, we behave differently. We lash out at those closest to us, or even withdraw from society completely. In some rare cases, it’s a combination of both.”  

It’s all coming back to him now, as he sits there listening to her ramble on.  

“It’s not uncommon to feel guilty for the events that happened to you under that extreme stress. It’s normal to feel angry or upset at the situation. It’s not okay, to unleash that frustration and guilt onto your loved ones. That’s why you were told to continue therapy Natsu. we’re doing this in hopes to get to the root of your anger and guilt so you can return to a normal life.”  

“Return to a normal life?” He laughs, “I lost my leg! I can never return to a normal life.”  

“My mistake,” she corrects herself, “I meant to say return to as normal as one can get in your situation.”  

“You wanna know why I feel so angry? So guilty?” He leans in and grips the knot in his pants where it’s tied off. “Because I should be over there helping Gray. I should be fighting for my country, not rotting away at home. I should be chasing down terrorists in Afghanistan, not going to fucking therapy. I’m a soldier!”  

“You’re not a soldier anymore Natsu,” Her words are matter of fact. “You need to realize this and come to terms with it or you’re never going to be able to move on.”  

“Fuck this,” he stands and grabs his crutches, “I don’t need to sit here and listen to this bullshit.”  

“Natsu wait-“ Lucy stands hurried.  

“Have you been using the prosthetic?” It’s a question that stops him in his tracks and his grip on the crutches tightens until his knuckles turn white.  

“He hasn’t gotten fitted for it yet…” Lucy has his blood boiling. How dare she butt into his business like that. He wants to yell, he wants to scream at anyone and everyone, but her warm hand on his back has a calm washing over him in waves and he takes a deep breath.  

“I recommend you do that sooner rather than later Natsu.”  

“What’s the point? It’s not like I can go back into the army. What is there to my life now?”  

“Soldiers have returned to the service with prosthetics before Natsu, it’s not unheard of.”  

“You have me,” he feels Lucy lean against his back and it takes all his strength to stay upright. “We have our life together remember? We’re getting married…” she leaves the sentence open and he feels his heart clench. It’s like she’s giving him an out and he hates himself for pushing her to this point.  

“Yeah,” He reaches for the hand on his shoulder, “we’re getting married. I promise that if nothing else.”  

“I’d like you to work on expressing your feelings more this week. Try talking about your last tour with Lucy, and please get fitted for the prosthetic. It will help make walking easier. I’ll see you next Thursday.” She smiles and stands, holding her hand out for him to shake and part of him is still angry, but another part, somewhere deep down inside him, he feels a little better.  

“Thanks Doc.”  

“Also, please call me if you have any more night terrors.”  

“Will do.” He nods.

-

-

-

“How does that feel?”  

“It feels fine I guess.” Natsu isn’t really sure what he’s supposed to say to a question like that.  

“Trust me Natsu, when you’re walking on it all day, you’re going to care how it feels now. The fitting is the most important part,” the tech trails his fingers over where the prosthetic meets his leg and Natsu swallows hard. It’s still sensitive to the touch. “I need to know if you feel any pinching or discomfort with this on. If need be we can adjust it.  

“There’s no pinching,” he looks down and instantly regrets it. The sight of his missing leg paralyzed him every time and he feels his heart skip into overdrive. “It’s cold though. And I feel it poking me on the inside.”  

“I can fix that,” the tech smiles and removes it to smooth out the interior seam before placing it back on. “Better now?”  

“Much.”  

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

“I said I can do it!”  

There’s a loud crash as Lucy collided with the wall, a gasp of shock echoing in the room before Natsu’s anger dissipates and he realizes what he’s done. There’s a moment of awkward silence while she looks to him with shimmering eyes before her composure solidifies and he’s left winded by the lifelessness coming from her.  

“Lucy I’m-“  

“Save it,” she snaps, pulling herself upright before shoving his prosthetic at him. “You want to do it alone, be my guest.” She’s gone before he can respond and he’s left staring after her dumbfounded.  

Way to go, moron. He’s always fucking things up. It’s why Gray no longer speaks to him, it’s why Erza refuses to be in the same room with him unless there is alcohol. It’s why his relationship is so strained he’s afraid another incident will send Lucy packing. And it’s all his fault.  

“God dammit!” His fist hits with enough force to dent the drywall, but he feels no pain. He doesn’t feel anything anymore; hasn’t for a while now. Everything is a struggle. Getting up is a struggle, getting dressed is a struggle. Being alive is a fucking struggle, and every day he has to fight back the urge to just end it all.  

He hears the front door slam and as the sound reverberates throughout the small apartment, he winces. When had it gotten this bad? The question hangs in the back of his mind but for the life of him, the answer remains a mystery.  

He looks down, his fist clenching. It’s all his fault. If he hadn’t lost his leg, if he had never enlisted in the first place, he wouldn’t be in this mess.  

“You’re a failure,” he chides himself. “You’ve always been a failure and you always will be. Every time you have something good going, you have to fuck it up. Typical Natsu Dragneel.”  

His phone buzzes on the nightstand beside him and his heart skips a beat. Was it lucy? His face deflates when he recognizes the number. No, it’s not lucy.  

“Yeah,” He goes by way of answering. No sense in keeping up formalities. “Dragneel.���  

“You missed physical therapy this morning.” It’s not a question.  

“I forgot about it.”  

“Bullshit Natsu,” the anger in the voice makes him wince. “You missed last week too.”  

“I had a therapy session last week.” Which he didn’t go to either. Not like it was helping anyway. An aggravated sigh meets his ears.  

“Where are you now?”  

“Where do you think I am?” He retorts.  

“I swear to God-“ she cuts off and he can hear her cursing to no one in particular before her voice comes back into focus. “I’ll be there in five minutes. You better be dressed.” The line goes dead before he can think of an excuse to deny her.  

“Fuck,” now he has to get dressed.  

He’s struggling with his prosthetic when he hears the door open and he mentally prepares himself for the shit storm he’s about to endure. She’s shouting before she even walks into the room.  

“This place is a mess!” Of course she goes for that first, “when’s the last time the dishes got washed?” He hears her puttering around and the clinking of glass echoes.  

When was the last time the dishes got washed? He can’t remember. He hobbles out a few minutes later to find her elbows deep in the sink and he sighs.  

“You don’t have to do my dishes Mira,” part of him feels guilty, but the other part is grateful. Lucy was usually the one who cleaned but since his return she’s been pulling extra shifts to help keep up with the bills. Money was a rare commodity of late.  

“If I don’t do them who will?” She turns on him, “you make Lucy do everything around here on top of her working her ass off to keep the bills paid. You could show a little more appreciation ya know.” She really wasn’t pulling any punches this time.  

“What can I do?” He asks heated, lifting his pant leg, “I only have one leg!”  

“That’s no longer an excuse and you know it!” She’s in his face in seconds, her hand wiping across his cheek before he can even react.  

“I work at the VA Hospital Natsu, I’ve seen cases much worse off than you. You still have one good leg. I’ve worked with vets who don’t even have that!”  

“I’m not like them!”  

“You’re God damn right you’re not,” she counters. “They still treat their loved ones with human decency. They don’t take their anger out on them! They came back from their trauma stronger. They didn’t let it swallow them whole.”  

He has nothing to respond with because she’s right. He really is a piece of shit. The past few months have been nothing but him yelling at lucy, at Grey. At everyone around him because he only feels pity for himself. Poor Natsu Dragneel, he lost his leg overseas.  

“It’s not easy…”  

“News flash,” her eyes harden. “Life isn’t easy. What happened to you was tragic yes, but you have a chance to continue on and live your life, I know a lot of soldiers who never got that chance.”  

His shoulders sink and he sighs again.  

“Let’s go,” She starts for the door.  

“Where to?”  

“You’re late for physical therapy and I’m not going to stand here and watch you destroy yourself and everyone around you.” She grips his arm tightly, “you’re going even if I have to drag you there kicking and screaming.”  

He should have know better than to ask. 

END

Just a little something I threw together. I do hope you all enjoy this and stay tuned for the next installment of this shit storm that I call a fic.  

[alwaysabeautifullife]

I really need advice. My mom has a lot of trauma and emotional baggage that she puts on to me. She drinks and smokes religiously (I think that’s we’re half of my dads child support money goes). She yells and curses at me for anything, to the point were I have to text my dad and ask if what I did was really that bad or if mom is just putting her stress out on me, and she just refuses to let me talk, despite promising my dad that she would. I have the ability to move in with my dad, 1/2

“1/2 but I don’t, because if I’m gone, who does my mom have? My mom babied me as a young child, then realized her mistake and treats me poorly in order to “make me tougher.” It just messes with my head and stresses me out. Any non religious advice to help cope? Sorry if this is poorly written I’m tired”

(Sorry un advance this is so long, I’ve been writing this for like 3 days)

When I was between 9-11 my mom and I were really into watching shows on Lifetime and like murder mysteries (or aliens). In those days Lifetime had a lot of crime or abuse stories. At the end of the investigation or whatever, they would conclude that the killer/abuser did all these horrific things because of the “abuse he suffered as a child”. My mom would always shoot up from her chair and leave the room muttering how it was “bullshit”, that people abuse kids, or murder or whatever because they were abused as a child themselves. I didn’t really get why she had that reaction until I got older and I learned more about my family secrets and my moms childhood.

My mom suffered abuse that was so disgustingly horrible, I have yet today heard or read about abuse as bad as what she suffered from. In fact, I have actual ptsd symptoms related to listening to my mom tell me a few of the things that happened to her as a kid, in addition to carrying extreme guilt about the things my relatives have done related to crimes. She was angry all those times because having a difficult past, is never an excuse to do bad things. Ever. My mom was really far from a perfect mom, but even when she was an addict we were well cared for. We had a clean house, clean clothes, we were tucked in bed and read to every night, we had vacations like everyone else, sometimes my mom would be in her room for several hours while my brother and I played like normal kids.

Eventually as my mom addiction got worse (we didn’t even notice), she sent us to live with our Dad. Unfortunately our lives were not good with my dad, but no body expected that, not my brother and I or our mom. She was doing what she thought was best for us, despite what she suffered from as a child, as an adult, and an addiction. She never used her life, her pain as an excuse to harm us. Even though my mom is an addict (clean for many many years), I still see her as a very very strong person, probably the strongest person I’ve ever known.

One thing we always try to do, especially for people we love, is understand why they hurt us. We make excuses for them. We say “they hurt us because they are hurt, they are stressed,”. We write their excuses. This isn’t our responsibility, and no excuse, no reason to hurt someone is ever a valid reason. Wrong is wrong. We can still love someone and protect ourselves. We can still love someone and do what’s best for us.

You have to realize, even though you love your mom, you are not responsible for her pain, or her healing. You also have to realize that even though you love her, what she is doing is wrong, no matter how good of a person she is, or no matter all the good things she does in between of the bad, or before the bad.

I know you’re young, I’m going to just assume you’re maybe in high school? But I want you to imagine your best friend in a situation as an adult, the same situation, but instead of your friends mother, it’s your friends boyfriend or husband. He comes home and screams at her because he “had a stressful day”, she tells you that she doesn’t want to leave him because she’s all he has. That is your situation now, but with your mom. It’s hard to hear, but it is abuse. And I don’t want you to grow up and you find yourself in a similar situation in your future with a man or woman you are dating.

As a parent, my children’s wellness is more important than my own, in anyway. I want my children to do what is physically, mentally, emotionally and spiritually healthy for them no matter how much it hurts me. I don’t want them to look out for me, I want to look out for them. And as children, teens, I want them to not worry about my problems or my pain because I want them to enjoy their childhood/teenhood. I want them to live.

You know, sometimes I argue with my teens, sometimes I’m in a bad mood because of private things in my life they don’t know about, and i have snapped at them for no good reason. That night I agonize over it, and I always make a point to explain to them that it was wrong and I’m sorry. They tell me “mom it’s fine, I know you were having a bad day,” and I always look them in the eyes seriously and tell them “no, it’s not ok for me, an adult to take out any stress or pain on you, and I don’t ever ever want you to accept that treatment from anybody or give that treatment to anyone else.”

If you stay with your mom, because you feel responsible for her, many of your choices that are vital in your life like school, work, etc with revolve and be put off for your mom when it shouldn’t be. You are responsible for your life, your happiness and wellness, never your moms. Your mom is an adult and her choices are her own, including the choice to allow stress or pain to ruin her day or her life, and the choice to let it affect you.

As far as coping if you still live with your mom because maybe there are many reasons why you feel like you have to, most importantly you can’t blame yourself. After just reading your message I highly doubt being loved and cared for or “babied” is going to spoil you, despite what your mom thinks. You are a genuinely caring and considerate person, you put a lot of time into thinking about your situation, you have a sense of responsibility and seek understanding. These aren’t the qualities of a spoiled person, or bad person.

It’s hard to cope in your situation because right now you’re probably living your life walking on eggshells around your mom, trying not to trigger her anger, trying not to make any mistake or do anything wrong because it will be blown out of proportion and her reaction will be explosive. You probably spend more energy into tip-toeing around her than you get to with caring for yourself, school, your friends, your relationships, your hobbies. And that’s really not fair, and it’s not right.

I want to tell you that I do not believe that your mom is a bad or evil person. She’s just a person. People make mistakes, and these people have a responsibility to correct them, not make habits out of them. Even though she is not a bad or evil person, her bad actions should never be excused away or dismissed.

I want to encourage you to tell your mom how you feel but I honestly do not know if that is safe for you to do. I also don’t know if it will make it worse, or if you have already done that. I do recommend you telling your dad, because as an adult, your dad, he has more responsibility to fix this situation than you do. If it is possible to speak to your parents at the same time, your dad leading the way, this would be the best but once again this could become more a hostile situation, so I say this cautiously, with you being the only person that can determine if this is safe and possible.

If you are able to reach the point that your mom understands what she is doing as wrong and asks for forgiveness, trust her patterns of actions rather then apologies. If she says sorry and does it again and this cycle goes on and on, she is not sorry and she is not making a true effort to stop. Always keep this in mind for anyone’s behavior in the future. Trust patterns, not apologies. That’s a really unfortunate truth for people who find themselves in abusive situations, it shouldn’t be like that, but it is.

It’s important for you to know that in all relationships you must form boundaries. Love has boundaries. It’s important to have them with everyone, especially your closest relationships. Even if it would be difficult to implement them with your mom, I really really suggest you thinking and writing down (even just on your phone) boundaries and rules you want with your mom. An important one as an example would be no yelling (from anyone, you, your mom, your dad), and maybe the expectation that your mom needs to quietly listen to your concerns, or maybe that your mom needs to have more positive affection (like quality time, or maybe positive expressions verbally, physically, or in actions). I think if you think about all the ways you want to form boundaries and expectations with the relationship with your mom it will make it easier to n voice your concerns to either your mom, your dad, or to another adult, and will prepare you for future healthy relationships.

Sometimes, in extreme situations you can both love someone and temporarily stop the relationship, or have a relationship that’s through phone, text, email, or public outings only. Some relationships must be stopped all together. I definitely do not think this is the case, but I want you to know for your future, especially when you are an adult that this situation may come up many times and you will likely need to do this.

I hope that something I said helps, I only spoke from experience myself in similar situations and as a parent. Please stay safe and take care of yourself!

[eldritchsurveys]

749.

How do you feel about full length beards? >> I have no specific feelings about them. Seems like they’d be obnoxious to care for, though. Have you ever been to a circus? >> Maybe? I don’t think so, but who knows. Do you know anyone who’s gone to a Fat Camp? >> No. Do you use Facebook IM everyday? >> No. How many surveys have you done already today? >> This is the first one I’ve done today. This is also the last one in my drafts, so unless some new ones magically appear in the tag real soon, it’ll probably be the only one I take today.

What’s the WORST show on Adult Swim? >> I don’t know, the only ones I watched were ones I liked. Do you have any relatives that have shunned you, or vice versa? >> --- Has anyone ever posted a HORRIBLE picture of you for everyone to see? >> Er, I don’t know. Not any time in recent memory. Which grade in school was the most fun for you? >> Ha... Which would you rather have, a new puppy or kitten? >> I would rather not have an animal foisted upon me right now. I don’t feel up to caring for another creature. Does drama seem to follow you everywhere you go? >> No. Do you ever just want to go away to a new place where no one knows you? >> I mean, hardly anyone knows me here, so what’s the real difference. I just want to go away to a new place where there are less people in general. You’re ordering a pizza, you can have any kind of toppings, what are they? >> When I order pizza, I get pepperoni, onions, mushrooms, and often some kind of pepper. Do you hit ‘quiet’ or ‘ignore’ on your cell? Which one usually? >> Er... when it rings, I just let it ring. Gives the person a chance to leave a message if they’re actually someone trying to reach me for something important. Do you ever regret giving your number to people? >> No, because I don’t give my number to people. Have you ever been told that you’re afraid of your own shadow? >> No. Have you ever tried Gouda cheese? >> Sure. Does/did your high school have pop machines? >> The last high school I attended did have vending machines. (I don’t remember if the other high schools did.) Do you use a public computer, or do you have your own? >> I have my own. Do you ever find it odd how you type LOL when you’re not really laughing? >> No, because I understand that its function has moved far beyond representing actual laughing-out-loud. Have you ever gambled? >> Aside from, like, scratch-off tickets, no. Do you know anyone who’s won the lottery? >> No. If you could work at any retail store, which one would it be? >> I wouldn’t, though. What’s the shortest you would ever cut your hair? >> I buzz my head every three weeks or so. Do you listen to any deathcore? >> Maybe. I don’t pay enough attention to genres to know. Do you subscribe to any teen magazines? Which ones? >> No. Do you know someone who never smiles? >> No. Has anyone ever made you feel uncomfortable at work? >> --- Do you still watch South Park? >> I actually watched an episode the other day, on recommendation. It was pretty good. I think South Park is a real hit-or-miss show, where the hits are decent but the misses are so heinous that that’s all anyone remembers, lol. I don’t think I’ll ever go back to actually watching it, it’s just not engaging enough for me, but I’ll always give a specific episode a shot if it’s recommended to me. Tell me one movie you’ve seen recently that sucked: >> I mean, I’ve seen several “ehhh...” movies recently, but none that I’d say were so blatantly awful that I needed eye bleach or anything. Jay and Silent Bob Reboot was probably the most ehhh of the bunch, but that’s the thing about that property -- it wasn’t terribly amazing to begin with, it was just easy to watch for some cheap laughs. So, like... expectations aren’t exactly high. Have you ever carved something into a dinner booth somewhere? >> No. When’s the last time you were carded at a bar? >> Last time I was at a bar that wasn’t Gardella’s, I guess. I get carded pretty regularly at new places or places I don’t frequent. Do you smoke little cigars? Have you ever tried them? >> No. Yes. You’re babysitting, what do you expect per hour for pay? >> --- What’s the last thing you returned at a store? >> I don’t remember. What’s the name of the last cat you pet? >> Spooky. Do you still look at clouds and make shapes of them? >> No. I don’t recall ever doing that, although it seems people do it in media a lot. If you had to dye your hair for one year, what color would you pick? >> No. I don’t even have enough hair to warrant dyeing it. Who’s got your heart? >> --- What’s your television addiction? >> I don’t have one. Have you ever stringed green beans before? >> No. What do you do to make yourself more relaxed when you’re nervous? >> I don’t know how to make myself more relaxed when I’m nervous. I just try to barrel through. Do you cook? If so, what’s the last thing you made? >> Not usually. Have you ever had any painful dental work done? If so, what? >> I had a tooth extracted, but it wasn’t anywhere near as painful as having a rotted tooth with an exposed nerve for two-plus years had been. How do you usually spend your Saturdays? >> Same way I spend any other day, mostly. When we’re not in pandemic mode, we also usually do grocery shopping on Saturdays and go to the Wayland house for laundry. Do you make your own jewelry or clothing? >> No. What’s your favorite thing to do when you’re bored? >> My experience of boredom is such that I don’t want to do anything when I feel it. It’s a pervasive restlessness. So I can’t possibly have a favourite thing to do in that state, because everything is equally unsatisfying (even things I generally enjoy doing). Do you use drawing to describe what you’re feeling? >> No. Do you like the smell of new school supplies? >> I don’t even know what that smell is. Do you give everything you do 100%? >> No. I don’t have that kind of energy. Do you shop at any independent music stores? >> Occasionally. There’s one downtown that I sometimes go to for records and patches. How do you feel about mainstream music? >> My negative feelings about modern music are directed towards the industry, not artists or genres. There’s a lot of popular music I enjoy, and there’s a lot I don’t. Just like with anything else.

What song lyrics describe your mood at the moment? >> --- Do you have healthy eating habits? >> My eating habits so far have not caused me any trouble, so I’m not going to stress about it.

If you could transform into any kind of animal, what animal would you be? >> *waggles my spider legs at you* Are you superstitious? If so, what are you superstitious about? >> No. If you could travel anywhere in the world where would it be? >> I mean, many places. What food disgusts you the most? >> Bananas. What is your favorite thing to cook? >> --- One place you would never want to get lost in in the dark? >> The rainforest? idk. Are you claustrophobic? >> In certain circumstances. What is your worst flaw? >> I don’t know. One thing that always creeps you out? >> Waterbugs. What is your biggest fear? >> Various possibilities around death. If you could be reincarnated, would you come back as another human or an animal? If an animal, what kind? >> --- Ideal way you’d like to die? >> Painlessly? I mean... If you could be roommates with anyone of your choice, who would you pick? >> I don’t want a roommate. What is the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever heard? >> *shrug* Your favorite kind of dog? >> Pit bulls. Do you have any scars? If so, how many? >> Yeah. Many. What is your favorite scary movie to watch in the dark? >> *shrug* Would you rather be buried or cremated when you die? >> Buried, please. Preferably as green as possible. What is your favorite thing to drink? Alcoholic and non alcoholic? >> Alcoholic, absinthe. Non-alcoholic, ginger tea. What is your favorite food around the holidays? >> --- Easiest way to scare you? >> Depends on how on edge I am that day. Tell me one of your biggest secrets? >> --- What was your last nightmare about? >> I don’t remember. I wake up with emotional impressions more often than with actual dream details.

[thewordreaper]

A Name To Remember

(My 5th short story for @short-story-slam . As usual this takes place in my super villain universe. This should read just fine as an independent story but i would recommend reading this first. Especially if you’re curious about the rest of Moira’s failed plans. And if you want to know more about the universe here are a few more stories. This story was inspired by one of @gingerly-writing ‘s prompts.

A note for my non Hindi speaking readers, Raat ki Raani means ‘queen of the night’, and is also the name of a variant of jasmine.)

——————————————————————————————

“Are you ready to tell me yet?” I asked, clearing away two of the mugs of the table. There were still roughly fifteen left.

Moira opened her mouth and froze like that for a bit before downing another cup.

“I’m running out of coffee.” I said as a last-ditch attempt.

Moira pulled out a bag of coffee and slammed it triumphantly onto the table. “I went grocery shopping.”

“Another centimetre to the right and I would have to send you shopping for new mugs.”

Moira looked mortified and I could already hear the ten-minute apology on the way.

I pulled up a chair next to her and sat. “It’s okay I said, placing my hand over hers. "You can tell me.”

She looked ready to combust. I placed my other hand over her other hand as well. Realising there was no way she could reach the coffee now, she finally spoke.

“You know Isha right?”

“Your sister who you complain about so much that I practically know her better than you.” I took a second to consider. “I may have heard of her.” All sarcasm was lost on her. She cast panicked glances around like a scared rabbit as if there were people secretly listening to her in my apartment.

“I kind of burnt down her shop.” She hissed.

“What?”

“Her shop. I burnt it down.”

“What?”

I burnt- Wait, are you doing that thing where you get stuck on a single word?“

"What?”

“Oh no. Do you know I’ve picked up that habit from you, Grahitha teases me about it constantly.”

“What?”

She sighed and pulled out her hands from under mine to cup my face.

“Nikita, my sister Isha is an okay sister but she also turns into a malevolent demon with never-ending rage and power when she gets upset. Here’s an example of what might make her mad, her shop burning down. Here’s what I did. Burn down her shop.”

Repeating ‘what’ was definitely the easy way out but Moira looked like she was scheduled to be executed in an hour. Which was a little too much? I’d met with Isha a couple of times. She was nice enough.

“Why did you burn it down?”

She got up hastily, looking very embarrassed.

“I’ll tell you on the way.”

“And why is that?”

“Because if I tell you now, you’ll refuse to help me.”

I picked up a thick dictionary from a shelf nearby. “I’m coming with you, but if it does turn out to be as dumb as you’re making it out to be, I’m going to hit you with this.” I held the tome up threateningly. She looked positively delighted.

“Are you going to tell me  now?” I asked as we made our way down the streets.

“So.” She began.

“So?” I prompted.

“I was getting my cloak printed there. I had this really cool design, it had 'RKR’, for Raat ki Raani, surrounded by tiny flowers slowly dissolving into the side. It was all supposed to be in silver against black.”

“You’re really enthusiastic about this.”

“I drew t. I was excited to see it come to life. But they messed up something and both R’s looked like B’s.”

I giggled, “Maybe you should give up on the name. Maybe Raat ki Raani is destined to be for someone else.”

“It is mine.” She said annoyed. “It is an incredible name that sums me up and once everyone learns it they won’t be able to forget it.”

“Sure. But was it worth burning a shop down over?”

“Technically I didn’t burn it down. And that wasn’t the reason why.”

She looked very guilty again. I sighed, “I am going to ask you why but first I’m going to pet that cat.”

She looked at me in confusion as I kneeled down and waited for the cat to approach me.

“Nikita.” She said urgently. “My sister’s shop just burnt down.”

“I know,” I said as the cat drew nearer. I’d seen it around a couple of times and even got it vaccinated. “No one died right?”

“No. And I can’t believe that it took you so long to ask this.”

“You’re on the city’s wanted list. Do you see me questioning your morals?”

“You constantly complain about how I never do the dishes.” She grumbled.

“Well if you’re going to classify that as a moral-”  I broke off as I saw smoke rising from behind the next set of buildings. Veery close to where Isha’s shop was.

“Moira,” I said, keeping my voice calm because the cat was sitting right by my knee now. “What is that?”

She shifted from one foot to another. “I did tell you the shop was on fire.”

“Yes, but you forgot to mention it was still on fire!” There was no way I could control my voice this time. The cat gave me a betrayed look and stalked away. Who decided it was a good idea to give them such expressive faces and elegance? They were all just bastards really.

Moira looked up like she was hoping the sky would crush her.

“The stores not on fire anymore. Isha is.”

Moira, did you just set fire to your sister?“

"No!” She said, putting up her hands. “I didn’t set anything on fire. That was Isha.”

I got up and started walking towards the source of the smoke. I turned the corner and froze. “Moira. What the hell is that?”

“I did tell you she turns into a malevolent demon of unlimited power fueled by rage.” Said Moira mournfully. “I may have forgotten to mention that her hair also turns to fire.”

“I didn’t think you meant that literally!”

“Of course you didn’t.” She muttered. “One sister gets to be all-powerful and the other one gets the power to turn lights on and off. Guess which one of them is taken seriously.”

“Moira if you don’t do something right now I am barring you from my apartment.”

“I need coffee first.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I have enough money to buy the entirety of coffee on earth. That makes me valid to have more coffee.”

“No, you don’t, and no, it doesn’t!” I yelled, as Isha’s frightening ten storey form, lumbered towards us. She let out an unholy roar as Moira stuck out her tongue at her. “At least I won’t feel guilty about this now.” I muttered before turning and smacking Moira with the dictionary. Not that hard, she did like her. Time seemed to freeze with a second and with a whoosh Isha shrank back into her normal form. Her black hair was untied and messy, tears were streaming down her face as she laughed violently.

Finally, she stopped laughing so that she could breathe. She grinned at me. “You’re honestly cool. Hopefully, I’ll see you around more.’ She turned her gaze to Moira who was still looking hurt. "And you’re paying for the rebuilding and more.”

“You’re the one who burnt it-” She began, but I clamped my hand over her mouth to cut her off.

“She’ll do it. She’s cutting back on coffee so she has the cash.”

“It’s about time,” Isha said, standing up. “Well, I’m going to go change because I smell of smoke. Nikita, I really hope Moira’s going to invite you to the next family wedding. I really hope you buy a book again.”

I waved goodbye to her as she walked off, loudly whistling.

Moira had wandered off to pick through the burnt remains. She extracted a long piece of black fabric with huge holes in the middle.

“I still can’t believe you did all this for a cloak,” I said, even though I could.

“I already told you, it wasn’t because of the cloak.” She said curtly. “I thought I’d pick your sports jersey and I saw that they had misspelt your name as well. Isha walked in and I may have started insulting her business, her ideas, her taste in decor and well. You know the rest.”

I sighed. “What did they misspell it as then?”

“Nikikita.”

“It sounds strangely cute when you say it.”

“Nikikikita.” She repeated despondently, still staring blandly at the charred remains of her cloak. I put an arm around her.

“Maybe cloaks just aren’t your thing.”

“Maybe. I was talking to Grahitha about lasers but she was being very rude about it.”

She looked skywards and I knew she was scheming again, the present left far behind.

“Nikikikikita.” She said finally.

“Yes?”

“I’m going to engrave my name on the moon.”

“Incredible.”

“And I’m going to abandon Isha there.” She continued.

I sighed. “You really don’t know how to make a dramatic moment.”

“Cheer up. I’ll add your name at the bottom as well. Nikikikikikikikita.”

I was never letting her have coffee again.

———————————————————————————

Tag list: @velvetlighthouse @madsaialik @purpleshadows1989 @lacklusterswirl

@focusdumbass @ohlooksheswriting

@livingthelovelylife

[tonysopranosfeverdreams]

Hi college is hard and I’m very stressed out do you have any tips/stories/advice 😔✊ also, I know a while back you mentioned something about dorm (?) stories 👀👀

Yes!! Honestly I remember getting really stressed out especially when I started college (it took me really my entire freshman year of constantly being sick and freaked out to get used to it) and it took a long time for me to get into a routine where I felt like I had things under control?

I think for me a big thing was just like…figuring out what time worked best for me to do work. In high school I was an overacheiver and an insomniac so i stayed up doing homework late most of the time and was used to being burnt out but what I found worked for me in college was scheduling time in the mornings/afternoons I didn’t have classes to do most of my work? Like on weekends if I didn’t have brunch plans or on quick lunch breaks during week days I’d pack my computer and or my readings and work at the dining hall. I also found once I sucked it up and went to the library to write essays/do research that was super helpful as well? There’s something comforting about being around a bunch of other people who are also working really hard at the same time you are in just not feeling alone, and I think getting out of the dorm was helpful in the sense that it makes your room a place you go to relax and unwind where you don’t have to carry the stress over into. Also, I’m so into rewarding yourself with treats, and picking up like tea or coffee or something to accompany you while you’re working at the library or having a tv show you let yourself binge at night when you’re done with your work.  Working out ended up being something that really helped regulate my emotions/get rid of excess anxiety and always is a quick pick me up, so I do highly recommend getting into that routine. Other than that? Try to be gentle with yourself. It’s so easy to feel lost and like you’re a failure or you’re not enough when you’re adjusting to a new lifestyle, but everyone else feels that too more than you know and just as long as you keeping on and doing your best, you’re doing more than enough, even if your best doesn’t FEEL like enough it really is, i promise.

omg i really have the best dorm horror stories from my freshman year like i really can’t believe it looking back it’s really like “bitch u lived like this?” but basically bard’s freshman housing in 2011 when i started college was a literal n i g h t m a r e in the sense that my dorm was essentially a tiny little mobile home that probably cost a max of $300 and which housed 12 of us featuring paper thin walls, a mouse infestation located primarily in my and my roommate’s room (we lived behind the kitchen), incredibly wealthy dormmates fostering drug habits and throwing ragers every night of the week (this would probably surprise people now but i really was NOT a party person in college especially when i was 18, i didnt even really drink and i didnt smoke at that point either ), and the guy on the other side of the wall from my bed having incredibly loud sex/arguments with his girlfriend every night for the entirety of my freshman year (like occasionally it would knock over stuff on my desk). it was overwhelming, and it definitely ended up being a struggle but even though it felt like the end of the world at the time and like i was an alien on a foreign planet, it served as kind of a “well i got through that so i can do anything” and living situations really could only go up from there, and even if it sucks at the time, it’ll probably be a funny story someday.

anyway, hang in there, really. people dont talk about it enoguh because theres this idea you have to immediately be having “such a great time!!” but i dont think anyone really does, at least at first. it gets easier.

i didnt do college perfectly and theres a lot of things id change with hindsight but the main thing i think would be to be kinder to myself and the rest would have followed

[turnupswritessometimes]

The One With the Zombies - AshEiji - Ch3

Title: The One With the Zombies

Chapter: 3

Word Count: 4162

Description:  Another what it says on the tin from me - it's a Zombie Apocalypse AU because how else could this anime/manga get any darker? Whilst on the run from the outbreak of zombies, reporters Ibe and Eiji stumble across a New York street gang, safely huddled in an abandoned warehouse. As if the undead weren't surprising enough, Eiji finds himself becoming closer and closer to the gang's leader, mysteriously dubbed Ash Lynx. But safety doesn't last forever and soon it's only Ash and Eiji. And they're up against more than just zombies.

Note: This is available on A03, and I would recommend you follow it there, as I remember to update it. I would post a link, but then Tumblr wouldn’t include it in search results.

3

Ash had ran out of cigarettes.

Eiji had thought this would mean a good time to curb the habit – to pack smoking in altogether. Bones had agreed with him. Ash hadn’t. He said that it wouldn’t be that hard to get to a convenience store and leave some cash on the side – if the owners were even still there.

So he had lead a small group of them out in the morning, guns slung over their shoulder and provisions shoved into their pockets. Bones started up some songs after a while – after their eyes were starting to water from staring at the horizon for so long. Eiji didn’t know the words or the tunes, but it did ease his nerves.

He glanced across at Ash. He looked tired – his hair hung in front of his face and he had dark circles under his eyes. But then everyone had dark circles now – Eiji didn’t think that he’d look any better. He felt as though he hadn’t slept since the zombie problem started.  His head felt light and fuzzy, like it was full of t.v static.

Ash noticed him looking and he glanced away, feeling his cheeks warm.

“You okay?”

“Mm.” Eiji said. “Tired.”

Ash patted his shoulder and just nodded.

They encountered a few strays on their way through the wilderness. They were dispatched quickly and for a moment Eiji thought that there might be some hope in this after all. Maybe they would be able to survive this apocalypse.

Kong had a compass with him, and he murmured to Ash whenever the red needle wavered. Ash would nod like he was a pirate captain charting a course. No one else seemed to know where they were going.

Eiji hadn’t realised that they’d walked this far out of the city. Once they were out of the woods though, he realised they were walking away from it. He had no idea what was out here.

It was boiling – an unbearable summer heat. Eiji wished he had something other than a button up shirt and jeans to wear because he was baking alive in them. There was a thin covering of sweat over him and he could see the others were suffering too. It was hard work – walking all this way in the heat for cigarettes.

It was mid-afternoon by the time they came to the gas station. It was, understandably deserted. A car was still plugged into one of the pumps, oil leaking like blood out of it’s side and onto the floor. Another car had deep scratches down the side of it and the bonnet was bent like an accordion. The front window was smashed and a sticky lump of flesh was still sat in the driver’s seat. Eiji stopped, staring at it – his eyes making out the shape of a skull against his will. An empty skull – picked clean.

Ash stepped in front of him.

“Come on,” he said, taking Eiji’s arm. “We have to move.” He led the away across the gas station, not looking around him. He leant closer to Eiji a moment later. “Don’t look at it. Look anywhere but that.”

He could hear the flies, he realised. He could hear the swarm of flies that we starting to gather and it turned his stomach. It was hot. Very hot and there would be a lot of flies very quickly if anything happened to any of them.

There was blood on the windows. Smears and streaks and here and there Eiji could make out finger or palm prints. Flies were gathering on them too, looking for anywhere to plant eggs.

The boys around him lifted their guns off of their backs, lifting them to their shoulders. Eiji grasped the pistol that he had been handed, holding it with two shaking hands.

Ash nudged the door open with his foot, poking the nose of his gun into the building. He stepped inside, squinting from the sudden darkness.

They waited behind. Eiji could pick out everyone’s individual breathing and his own was loud in his ears. A drop of sweat rolled down the back of his neck.

Eventually, they got a “clear.”

Eiji stepped inside and felt instant relief in the shade. The air was still humid and hard to take in, but the sun wasn’t pushing against his back.

“Don’t keep your guard down,” Ash said. “And take everything you can carry.”

He glanced at Eiji as he started towards the tobacco counter and Eiji realised that he completely understood the meaning. ‘Stay close.’

So he followed him, his eyes looking over the shelves for any sign of movement. He watched the shop whilst Ash slipped over the counter as nimbly as a cat over a fence. He rustled around in the back and muttered, “fuck.”

“Don’t they have any?”

“Only roll-ups.” Ash sighed. “It’s fine. I’ll take it.”

“They’re better for your health, I think.” Eiji said.

Ash was climbing back over the counter, and he rested on his hands to look up at Eiji, an amused smile on his face.

“Frankly, my dear, I don’t give a damn about my health.” He said.

Eiji laughed under his breath, because his hands were still shaking. But the sun had caught Ash’s eyes and they had looked like a green field of grass in the Summer. They were glowing.

“We got a live one!” a voice called from the back of the store.

Ash was up and in front of Eiji in the next moment, his gun pointed at the voice. He was at attention, prickling with intensity.

“When you say alive?” Ash pressed, starting to walk down the aisle towards the others. Bones and Kong were halfway down, in the sweets aisle, and had their guns rested over the top of the shelving. Eiji had never seen the two of them concentrate so hard. “Are we talking alive again? Or just plain alive?”

“Just plain alive,” the voice replied. “I think?”

“You think?”

Ash stopped. Eiji peered over his shoulder to see a man standing in the doorway of the restroom, his hands above his head and a bored expression on his face. He looked scruffy, with messy hair, stubble on his jaw and dark rings under his eyes. A crumbled shirt and torn trousers.

Then again, Eiji supposed none of them looked much better.

“I’m alive,” the man said. “And so thankful that Peter Pan and the Lost Boys have found me. I really am saved now.”

Ash lowered his gun almost immediately. The others followed suit, though much more hesitantly.

“We’ll leave you here if you’re ungrateful.” Ash said.

The man laughed, lowering his hands as the guns were put away.

“Don’t tell me you have a Neverland.”

“We have a hideout, yeah.” Ash said. “If you pull your significant weight, you can have in.”

“What happened to the living being aligned with the living?”

Ash shrugged. “You coming, or not?”

“Sure. Thanks for the offer.” The man was still sarcastic, but there was a hint of genuinity there. He held out a hand to Ash. “Max Lobo.”

Eiji jumped at the name. Without realising it, he had clutched Ash’s jacket.

“Max Lobo?” he echoed.

Ash looked back at him. He hadn’t shook the man’s hand.

“What’s wrong, Eiji?” he asked, with none of the playfulness that had been in his voice before. He could feel everybody’s eyes on him and suddenly felt shy. He focused on the glow of Ash’s eyes in the dark.

“I know that name. Ibe – we were meant to meet this man.”

“Ibe?” it was the man’s turn to echo names. “Shunichi Ibe?”

Eiji almost said ‘hai!’ He stopped himself – forced his brain to go back to English. “Yes – I came to England with him.”

The man’s face lit up. He grinned at them.

“Well then, take me to your leader.”

“I am their leader. Ash Lynx.” He turned away then, tapping his gun against his thigh. “Get ready to move back out, guys. It’s a long walk home.”

They did, all grabbing snacks and stuffing them into their pockets before they were shuffling into the door with heavier garments than before. Max stood by Eiji. He noticed his shaking gun and held out a hand.

“Do you want me to take that for you, kiddo?”

Eiji hesitated. Then nodded – he didn’t want to hold it anymore.

“Don’t.” Ash put a hand over his. He was looking at Max with a heavy gaze. Almost an angry gaze.

“It’s okay,” Eiji said. Ash didn’t look at him. “Mr Lobo can probably shoot better than me.”

“I’m not about to shoot you for a few cigarettes and a chocolate bar,” Max said. He was giving Ash a similar stare.

Very slowly, Ash pulled his fingers away from the gun and let Max take it. He examined it, then shoved it into his waistband and nodded at Ash. It was some significant exchange, but Eiji couldn’t follow it.

They started back. Walking back down the road and through the wilderness with the same quiet determination as before. Ash kept glancing at the sky, his hand never quite leaving his gun. He stayed at Eiji’s side as though he was glued there.

He supposed he should have felt vulnerable. He was the only one without a gun.

But he didn’t think Ash would let him get bitten. He trusted Ash.

He had saved him before, hadn’t he?

*

“If I make a Mad Max: Beyond Thunderdome reference, will you understand it?” the man, Max said, after a while.

Ash glanced at him. “I probably wouldn’t. The others might.”

He didn’t want to talk to him. He didn’t trust him – not for any particular reason, he just generally lost trust in people the older they were. Ibe he could deal with – Ibe was very clearly like a parent to Eiji. A real parent.

This man had been in an abandoned gas station and there was something about him that sparked in Ash’s memory. He recognised this man, but he couldn’t think from where. He was sure that it wasn’t from behind a camera. It wasn’t from that mansion in New York.

So where?

It bothered him – the man bothered him because he seemed completely unfazed by it all. Because he had a tongue to match Ash’s.

The man who everyone else clearly trusted. They probed him with questions like he was the most interesting thing in the world. Ash supposed it had been a good week since Eiji arrived – they were getting angsty. Everyone was feeling cabin fever.

But he didn’t know what else to do. When you were lost as a child, the advice was to sit tight and wait for someone to find you. No one was going to find Ash, but staying put seemed like the best option. That was what everyone had planned if they were talking about this situation. Stay put and create a stronghold.

At least they had more food now – even though it was only junk food.

“So, how do you know Ibe?” Max asked.

There were no songs on the way home – the mood was wearier now that the sun was beginning to set. Ash could feel the ears listening to him, even if everyone was looking ahead.

“The boys found him and Eiji stumbling around the forest looking completely lost. We take pity on the lost.”

“Thanks.”

“We came to interview Ash.” Eiji said next to him. He gave him a sharp look and the Japanese boy shrugged, as if to say ‘well, Ibe would have told him.’

“How ironic,” Max smiled and Ash glowered at him. He supposed because he was too upbeat – too carefree about the whole thing. “Guess it really is a small world, huh?”

“You were all in New York. Anyone who stayed in New York is most likely dead by now.” Ash said.

He couldn’t help but wonder just how far the walkers had got. If they had reached Golzine’s place. If they had, Ash supposed he should feel relief. He should be glad that just one good thing had come out of this whole thing. He should feel some satisfaction in knowing that those men would have been torn apart limb by limb.

But it just made him angry. Angry that he wouldn’t have been able to be there himself. That he wouldn’t be able to put the last bullet in the body.

It made him feel empty. Not sad – but – empty.

The thought was a pointless exercise anyway. He didn’t know for sure – would hopefully never know for sure.

Knowing Golzine, he was sat at home with his home comforts whilst soldiers did all the hard work for him. That made him feel sick to his stomach, so he abandoned the line of thought and continued trudging through the fields.

Did they really walk this far? He’d really led them all this far away from the base just because he wanted some more cigarettes? What had he been thinking?

He hadn’t, really. He was just scared – scared about what would happen when he felt the craving arrive and there was nothing to wrap his fingers around. Because memories followed cravings and he had had enough of memories. So, they had to go, even if it meant they were still trudging back as it got dark.

They hadn’t brought flashlights – it was still the general agreement that walkers could still see and could still recognise that light meant living.

But the heat of the day had one upside. It had brought the flies out – huge, black, buzzing flies.

Which gave them plenty of warning when anything was coming. They had all froze before at the approaching sound, drawing guns into hands hesitantly. Ash’s eyes searched the shadows and he put out an arm to keep Eiji back.

He almost jumped out of his skin when Eiji actually held onto it. It was just a warm hand on his elbow, letting him know that Eiji was right behind him. The feeling wasn’t particularly unpleasant – in fact, it calmed his racing heart.

It eventually came into view. It arm had been torn to gory ribbons and Ash could hear some of them gulp. He didn’t stop to think about it, he raised his pistol-

And another shot rang threw the air.

From beside him, he realised a moment later.

Max Lobo was staring down the barrel of his gun at the collapsing walker. It landed in a heap, folding the wrong way like a piece of paper.

“What do you know,” Ash said. “You can actually shoot that thing.”

Max smirked at him. “This old man has a few tricks up his sleeve.”

He rolled his eyes, because there had been a ripple of excitement at the clean shot. Ash waved a hand to tell them they should all push on. Yes, he could shoot a gun, so could anyone else.

Anyone except Eiji.

It should have been annoying. It should have made him a liability. Instead, Ash found it refreshing. Here was a boy completely removed from his world. He was like a miracle.

They finally arrived back at the warehouse, by the time the stars were sparkling in the sky and their legs were weary from the days walk.

Ibe met them at the door. He looked incredibly relieved to see them all in one piece – and completely surprised to see Max with them. He burst out laughing and the two men embraced. It was only ten minutes later that Eiji was bringing them both tea he had made from the travel kettle.

It was back to normal now – to groups lounging on the sofas chatting and laughing before it was time to go to bed. Eiji sat down next to Ibe, so naturally Ash sat next to him. For all his scorn, he couldn’t help but be curious about this man.

Eiji smiled at him as he sat down, and Ash found himself smiling back.

"How long have you been back in New York?" Ibe was asking.

Ash stared out over the rest of the gang, just to make it look like he wasn't eavesdropping.

"Not long."

"Same business as usual?"

"It was." Max leant forward and Ash glanced across at him. His face looked drawn - darker. "But then it led me to something else. I think I found a child trafficking ring in the city." Ash's blood ran cold. He wasn't sure if he drew in a sharp breath or made a face or something - but Max's gaze flicked to him. He stared back with what he hoped was a neutral expression. Maybe he should have looked shocked – or scared, or angry – like Ibe and Eiji.

“That’s horrible!” Ibe said.

“I’m still finding out the details.”

"Ash, would you know anything about that?" Eiji asked.

"Why would I know anything about that?" He had spoken too quickly and too harshly and Eiji had actually recoiled, staring at Ash with wide eyes.

"I just thought - you might hear things,” he said, sounding so much like a lost puppy that it felt like he had wedged a knife into Ash’s stomach.

He took a breath – it did make sense. It hadn’t meant what he thought it would mean.

"Well yeah,” he said, pushing his hair out of his eyes and staring at the ground. This was thin ice and making eye contact with Max Lobo was going to make him fall through. “There are rumours.”

“Not enough rumours to act on?” Max raised an eyebrow at him.

That set his anger off. He was suddenly snarling at him.

“You've done the research. The men in charge are all influential business bigots - No one's going to listen to a bunch of kids!” he snapped. “And anyway, none of us are out of the clear. They like seventeen year olds as much as twelve year olds.”

He hated the way he was talking about it so casually and he knew he was saying too much.

“Seventeen? You're seventeen?”

It was Eiji and he was still giving Ash that wide eyed look.

“Why? Do I look older?” he smirked, because it was strangely easy to smirk with Eiji and see him smile back.

“Smoking ages you,” Max said.

“Speak for yourself, old man.” He barely glanced over. He was done talking about this and he was glad for the change of subject. “How old are you, Eiji?”

“Hm? Oh, I'm nineteen,” he smiled self-consciously.

"Oh." Ash wasn't sure why the information was such a surprise. He sat back, letting the conversation continue. Max and Ibe talked back and forth about locations and suspects and details - too many details.

He had to get out.

He tapped Eiji's elbow before he left- he normally wouldn't have done, he would normally just leave.

Maybe it was so that Eiji would follow him to the doors of the warehouse. It was completely dark now and he missed when that was a comfort - when the dark was completely and utterly comforting because it hid him.

"Its heavy stuff." Eiji's voice was quiet. He was leaning against the door, still half-standing in the doorway.

"Mm."

"You don't like Max."

Ash almost laughed.

"No. He pisses me off."

Eiji was the one who laughed then, a soft breathy chuckle.

"He reminds me of you."

"Eiji?"

"Yeah?"

"Never say that again."

Eiji laughed - and Ash laughed too and for once it didn't seem too loud or jarring.

They stood in silence - they always seemed to stand in silence - and listened to the sound of the T.V.

Skip came for the first watch.

“That guy said that I’m too young to be on watch,” he said.

“What’d you tell him?” Ash asked.

“That I could shoot his gun better than him any day.”

“Good boy.” Ash high-fived him, kicking off the front of the warehouse. He was only heading inside to show Max just how capable Skip was.

“You shouldn’t encourage him to be like you,” Eiji murmured. He was still at his side and Ash normally would have found it annoying. But with Eiji it was different – it was almost comforting.

“What’s wrong with being like me?” Ash smirked.

Eiji stopped and studied him. He was still smiling and his cheeks were pink like his cheeks were two roses.

“I don’t know,” he said.

And Ash felt his stomach flip. He told it to calm down – don’t get excited. That was when the guilt set in. ‘Don’t know.’ That was because Eiji didn’t know. He didn’t know the half of it. Ash hadn’t thought he ever would.

But with Max here, that seemed subject to change.

He came out of the warehouse when Ash was on duty that night. Eiji had actually fallen asleep on the sofa and Ash had slipped out from beside him. That was the only time that he seemed to sleep – when Ash sat by him. Funnily enough, he had been missing the company as he stood out in the darkness. It was easier to pass the time when Eiji was next to him, even if they weren’t saying a word.

Needless to say, Max’s appearance was nothing like Eiji’s. He studied Ash for a moment, and Ash pointedly didn’t look at him, taking a long drag from his cigarette as though he was drinking water in front of a dying man..

“You have a spare?” he asked.

Ash considered denying it. He wasn’t that mean. He handed over the one he had already rolled from behind his ear.

Ash considered denying it. He wasn’t that mean. He handed over the one he had already rolled from behind his ear and stared out into the darkness.

For a moment, he hoped that it would be something like what he had with Eiji. That they could just stare out across the woods and contemplate impending doom.

Of course it couldn't be that easy.

"So, I take it they don't know," Max said, smoke billowing from his mouth.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ash said.

"Yes, you do."

Ash paused - wondering whether or not to lie. No, he wanted the truth on this one.

"Did you see the pictures?"

Max took another drag before he answered, tapping the ash off as he spoke.

"I didn't root them out."

"But you saw."

"I'm sorry."

"It's not like you're the only one," Ash said. He tried to say it casually but his stomach twisted in on itself. He realised that he had to answer Max's first question. "The boys know that I'm tied to him. They don't know how."

"What about Ibe and the kid?" "Nothing."

"Are you going to tell them?" Max glanced sideways at him.

"Why would I do that?"

"Because you're not going to be able to hide it from him forever," Max said. There was something in his tone that Ash didn't like.

"We could all die tomorrow," Ash snapped.

Max shrugged. "It's your choice."

There was that tone again. That condescending, suggesting something tone.

"He's my friend, okay?" Ash said. "Nothing more."

"I didn't say he wasn't." He still spoke in that voice and it made Ash grind his teeth. He wanted to just leave it - to ignore him and pass of the watch to someone else.

"I'm not." He said instead. He wasnt sure why - maybe it was because Max knew anyway. He was the only person here who knew. "I don't - I don't even think that I - I'm-"

"Gay?"

Ash heard his breath - a short gasp that sounded like he was shocked. "Not anyone," he managed to get out. "I don't think I could have a relationship with anyone."

Max was quiet for a moment and Ash felt his gaze on him. He ignored him.

"You don't have to have sex to be in a relationship." He said it so gently - so pityingly that I made anger ride up in Ash. The same anger that he felt earlier and he hated this man - he really hated this man who thought he knew and understood everything. Who thought he knew and understood everything about Ash.

"Who the fuck do you think you are?" he snapped. "How dare you - how the fuck can you come in here and start talking to me about whether or not I'm - you aren't! You aren't shit! Just stay away from me!" He threw his half-used ciggie onto the floor, his face twisting up into a snarl. "Stay away from me and don't fuck up our rations!"

Just who did this man think he was? Ash ranted to himself about the idiocy and arrogance and sheer stupidity of the man. Like he knew anything. Like he knew an ounce of what Ash had gone through.

As if the zombies weren't bad enough, now Ash had to contend with Max fucking Lobo.

[spotlightonmringenue]

Hurting Henry Hidgens’ Feelings: A 3-Part Series

This is also kinda Tedgens but if you’re not into that just please read it for Professor Hidgens and skip over the gay bits

-------

Part One- Here It’s Safe and Sound

Summary: Henry doesn't mind the silence anymore, but he really needs a break from it.

 It's gotten to a point where the continuous silence no longer bothers him.

 It's not like he had been totally alone anyway, he had Alexa there to talk to him in case he felt particularly lonely or it got so quiet that the ringing in his ears became too much to handle. Even an AI with limited responses and answers was much better than living completely alone.

 Then again, living completely alone and safe was better than living among others and in constant fear of death or destruction. It wasn't like he was alone all day, every day either. Most people wouldn't have their day job double as their main source of social interaction, but Henry Hidgens was not most people. Even though he teaches a room of rarely interested students, he couldn't exactly call it thorough communication. They all thought he was just the kooky old teacher who was one more conspiracy away from joining the league of tin foil hats.

 Emma Perkins seemed to be different, though. Not exactly an instant friend, but still was kind enough to respond to his greetings when she entered the classroom and even brought him groceries once, which was a godsend because if Henry had to eat one more package of rehydrated noodles before the end of the world actually arrived, he was going to lose it. But still, mere acquaintances proved to be just enough for him. Besides, he couldn't handle more than that anyway.

 Not anymore.

~*~

 Henry takes a drag off his cigarette as he paces the floor. His mind is somewhere hazy, but his attempts to clear it and evaluate the situation at hand are proving to be quite difficult. He quickly thinks about how easily he had taken up smoking. He used to be disgusted, knowing how the chemicals royally fucked up the human body and vowed to never touch a cigarette in his life. But after everything, it became all too easy to go through the familiar motion of hand to lips to lungs to mind, and every tremor to still from the nicotine buzz.

 This new outbreak...he wonders if it's really all that bad. The infected are happy, no conflicts or arguments. They sing and dance in harmony but still maintain a sense of individuality. Humanity had yet to find a way to create mutual peace among every member of its society, and it had thousands of years to do so. How was this all so bad if it's to create global calm?

 He's stopped pacing and remains stuck in such a daze of his swirling thoughts that he doesn't notice the door open, or the footsteps that follow it. It's only the words that cause him to jump out of his thinking to allow his ears to readjust to the sound of someone else's voice besides his own.

 "Everyone's asleep. They're beat after all the shit that's happened."

 The professor turns his head to glance at Ted, standing there with a demeanor that looks slightly different than it did when he'd arrived. He looks almost...scared. Not entirely, but as if he's so unsure of the future or his own fate than he can't help but display even the slightest bit of uneasiness. Henry can see it. He notices little things like that.

 "That's understandable. You've all had a rough day," he responds in his usual matter-of-fact tone, taking another drag off the cigarette he nearly drops when the tremor returns. "Aren't you tired as well? You've been through as much as they have today."

 Ted just shrugs and leans back against the wall, watching the other smoke and stare blankly at the floor. "I usually go to bed late anyway. Guess my sleep schedule doesn't give a fuck about the end of the world."

 Henry chuckles slightly in return, before taking a moment and extending his pack of cigarettes to offer up one to him. Ted shakes his head and softly declines as he sighs and glances around the room. "...Do you think it really is the end of the world?" Henry asks, his voice barely above a whisper as he talks through an exhalation of smoke.

 "What do you mean?"

 "I mean, what if it isn't the end of the world? What if it's the new beginning?"

 "...Are you seriously defending murderous aliens right now?" Ted asks, the tone he uses to ask the question cutting deep into Hidgens' subconscious. "They killed Charlotte. The only thing they're beginning is the fucked up apocalypse nobody wanted to be a part of."

 Henry doesn't have a response. He just sighs and smashes the finished cigarette into the ashtray. He has an overwhelming urge to go for another one, but he needs to pace himself, or even more, his supply of cigarettes.

 "So why do you stay cooped up in this giant panic room?"

 "I'm not cooped up, I'm safe. As I told you all, I predicted this scenario thirty years ago-"

 Ted looks at Henry with an expression that makes his heart stop. One with no trace of light-heartedness, one that's familiar and reminds him of things he doesn't want to think of. "I know I just met you today, but I can call out bullshit when I see it. There's gotta be some other reason."

 The older man has to look away, and the nerves culminate in him pulling another cigarette from the pack and lighting it as soon as it hits his lips. "There's just...a lot of things I've learned over the years. There isn't some other reason. There are many other reasons. If I can keep myself alive, then there's no point in taking risks."

 "I don't think being a part of society is taking a risk, professor. That's just stupid."

 Henry has to bite his tongue to keep from snapping at Ted. To keep from explaining that the reason he keeps his distance is because of his first and last best friends. "You can't lose your friends if you don't have them to begin with," he says with finality, signaling that he was ending the conversation right there.

 After a few passing moments of silence, Ted pushes off the wall and feigns a yawn. "I'm gonna go get some sleep." He turns and makes way back to the door. "Goodnight, Professor Hidgens." The footsteps tapping on the floor sends Henry back to his thoughts. He thinks about the conversation, about his refusal to make friends...but sometimes he wants so badly to have connections with other people again. Maybe it's not as simple as he thinks it is. Maybe he can't just refuse to have people in his life because he's afraid to lose them again. Sometimes he longs for just someone, anyone, to at least call him by his first name. Hearing Emma call him Professor Hidgens reminds him of all he's accomplished and worked hard for, but he'd give anything to hear someone call him Henry again. To have that simple fucking connection of a first name basis.

 Maybe that could happen. Maybe that's the first step he needed to take.

 "...Henry," he says quickly before he can hear the sound of the doorknob turn. "My...you can call me Henry."

 There's a brief pause and slight tension that hangs in the air, and Henry moves to take another drag before he notices to his dismay that he had let the whole cigarette burn down to the filter.

 He doesn't look back at Ted. This whole interaction was making him stress enough. He can't add to it by looking back at what he's sure is the man's smug grin. He doesn't have to look back though, because the man quickly moves to stand in front of Henry, looking at him with a blank stare before a slight smile shows up. It's something new to Henry, something he hasn't seen from the man all day. He'd naturally assumed he wasn't one to display emotions...or at least, the positive ones.

 "Alright...goodnight, Henry," Ted replies to kill the silence, patting Hidgens' shoulder as he walks back to the door.

 And in an instant, Henry Hidgens is thrown back into the typical silence. The silence that doesn't bother him anymore, but now...neither does the sound.

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

Part Two- Still The Dance Goes On

Summary: Showtunes help Henry with whatever emotion he feels.

**Author’s Note: I’d recommend listening to “Rememb’ring You” from Yank! the Musical while listening to this, since it’s the song I’ve quoted and will give you the feel I was going for with this part**

 Henry's passion for musical theatre never really left him. If anything, it only got stronger as the pressures of science caused him to seek the comfort of showtunes. He often listened to act one mind blowing numbers to pump him up and motivate him to continue with his work, or sang both parts to sappy duets as he double checked the security cameras surrounding his home. They never failed to help keep him in a high energy mode.

 But right now, Professor Henry Hidgens was not in the mood to stay high energy.

 He's staring straight up at the ceiling, laying flat across a bare table in his lab as he mindlessly lets the cigarette dangling between his fingers burn down without so much as acknowledging that it was in his hand. He's beginning to no longer need them anyway. They're mostly there as a force of habit, or to remind the man that he was holding something he couldn't drop and therefore kept him grounded.

 Soft music is playing in the background, thanks to Alexa, who he'd asked to play his rainy day playlist. It's comprised of soft ballads or songs he often listened to when he needed a break from the dulled silence he was accustomed to. Something calm, quiet, slow. He often sang along under his breath, or gently swayed his foot to the slow beat. Today, however, he's barely even paying attention to the words.

 Something's happened to him as of late. He would've wondered what it could be that changed, but he had caught on as soon as it had begun. The way Ted didn't grow annoyed or worried when he talked about musicals, but instead watched the professor with intrigue and genuine interest. The way he smiled and never snapped at him out of habit or in self defense. The way their connection had gone from mere acquaintances to a deep friendship in a matter or weeks, and he knew that's the exact reason that he no longer had the urge to chain smoke.

 Because the shaking hands are gone, the racing thoughts are slowed, and he no longer feels panicked by a strengthening connection. He knows that these things should be silly, he's a grown man for God's sake, but it's really not that simple. None of it is, but he can't keep dwelling on it. If he does, he's sure it'll kill him.

 It's later than he thought, he notices when he sees a digital clock reading "2:47 AM". He figures everyone else is asleep, and he should be too. But the sound of the doorknob and familiar footsteps make him sit up and take a deep breath. "I know you said your sleep schedule is different than most people, but I think this is a little extreme."

 Ted chuckles in reply and stands in front of the other, crossing his arms but in a way that feels welcome and not intimidating like he usually acts around others. This is different, a side of Ted that only the professor gets to see.

 "Says the only other person who's also awake," he says smugly, turning his head to the sound of the soft music playing. "Something wrong, Henry?"

 He still can't quite get used to Ted calling him that, but the way he says it carefully and never in a harsh tone makes Henry feel so relieved. After a quick pause to register what song was ending, he looks back to the man in front of him and shrugs. "I suppose not. I was just thinking."

 "You're always thinking whenever I come to talk to you. Do you ever take some time to not think about anything?"

 Henry thinks about it, then shakes his head. "There's no time to stop thinking during the apocalypse, Ted."

 The song that begins makes the professor perk up. A song he hasn't heard in so long, one he forgot he'd put in the playlist. He stands up and moves over to the speaker, unable to take his eyes off it.

 Ted doesn't know what to do. Henry's behavior is rarely normal so he's not usually phased by anything odd, but this was slightly confusing. He watches as the man turns away from the speaker to face him, taking a few steps forward and reaching out his hand.

 "I know you can't sing at all, but I think it's time for me to find out if you have enough coordination to dance," he says with a hopeful smile, praying to any deity that Ted couldn't see the tinge of sadness in his eyes. His smile grows wider when the man accepts his offer after a few seconds of hesitation, and they stand together with Henry's hand placed gently on Ted's waist and the other man's hand on the professor's shoulder, slowly moving along to the song.

 I can't seem to fall asleep, my darling  I keep rememb'ring you

 Henry doesn't notice how they get closer as they move, until he can feel Ted's hand move and his head replace it to rest on his shoulder. It's nothing too much, it's just comforting and real and something Henry was missing. Physical contact was an aspect of a friendship he missed. As much as he'd hate to admit it, he craved it more than any other form of contact.

 It's at the point when the song ends and they're still holding each other that something happens to Henry. His brain feels like it's exploding, and he lets out a cry of pain as his knees buckle, and he can feel Ted quickly move to keep him upright before he thankfully regains his strength and steps back. Through blurred vision, he can tell Ted looks worried, and he knows he's trying to hide it from him. Ted was really good at that, hiding emotions so he wouldn't look soft around anyone so nobody could hurt him. Henry noticed that. He noticed the little things.

 He can't really hear what Ted says to him as he helps him sit in a nearby chair, but he thinks the man was questioning if he was alright. Just like that, the pain disappears as quickly as it had appeared, and Henry nods to allow Ted to calm down. "I'm alright...nothing to fret about."

 "You can't say that after you almost passed out in my arms."

 He's right, but Henry doesn't know what to say. The pain was quick, and excruciating, but it's gone now, so it's fine. It's just fine. "...You should get some sleep. I'll be heading to bed soon myself."

 It was clear that Ted wants to say something back and argue about what had just happened, but he's growing tired and Henry's so adamant about being okay. He trusts Henry.

 "Okay...goodnight, Henry."

 "Goodnight Ted." The professor watches the other walked out from the chair, before he finally feels safe enough to stand up without getting dizzy. He sighs and stops the music, letting himself return to the quiet. In those moments of dancing with Ted, he realized he needs to talk about it. He needs to talk about the reason he's so afraid of connection, why he had said you can't lose friends if you don't make them.

 He needs to tell Ted about the boys. He needs to tell the story.

 Henry shifts from looking around his lab to stand in front of a mirror, sighing at the man staring back at him before something catches his eye. Or, rather, something in his eyes catches his attention.

 Flashes of bright blue, appearing and disappearing like lightning.

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

Part Three- Everything is Perfect/Nothing’s Real

Summary: Henry theorized this exact scenario thirty years ago. But what if wasn’t simply a theory?

 Henry Hidgens is fucked.

 He's got it under control, but he's still fucked.

 As he paces the floor, he's thankful that everyone else is upstairs getting drunk and he has time to temporarily return to isolation and figure things out. He had made some excuse about needing to go to the lab and do some more research on the blue shit, which just made the others nod and let him walk out of the room. He quickly checks everything over. The gates are locked, the security cameras are perfectly placed to cover every spot of the perimeter of his home, and just in case, he's fully equipped in case all else fails.

 He checks his reflection in the mirror again, and nothing's changed. His eyes are still flashing bright blue, and it's more prominent than before. It's impossible to hide now. He needs to think of a way to explain without causing chaos. But then again, this isn't something he could talk about with ease. He still has trouble understanding it himself.

 There's a knock on the door, and his eyes return to their natural color. He's relieved, but he knows it's only a matter of time before the flashing returns. As he crosses the room to open the door, he hopes it's not who he thinks it is. That hope fades when he sees Ted standing there, hands in his pockets.

 "Alice is making them watch Moana. I decided to duck out."

 Henry laughs softly and steps aside to let Ted in before shutting the door behind him. "You should've stayed, it's a good movie."

 "I don't really like kids' movies," Ted replies with a shrug, looking around the room. "So, what's going on with the blue shit?"

 It takes the professor a second of confusion before he remembers he was supposed to be in the lab running tests, so he immediately fumbles over a response. "I've got a few tests that I'm running that need some time before I'll have the results, but I'm convinced that there's quite possibly a way for the aliens to infect us without entirely doing so, allowing it to hide in our subconscious for years, even decades, before finally spreading to take over."

 Ted listens to Henry talk and looks more perplexed with each word. "So they can just hide in our bodies? That sounds crazy."

 As if on cue, the excruciating migraine returns, this time for the third time that day. He groans loudly and collapses, feeling as though he's being electrocuted from the head down. It's another few passing seconds of pain and blurred vision before it dissipates, and then he can tell that Ted is yelling out his name in horror.

 "What the hell is going on?! You can't brush this shit off again!" he snaps, and Henry knows it's because he's scared.

 "I...okay," the professor starts, regaining his strength and getting up from the floor to take a seat. He grabs his cigarettes from the table and lights the first one he's had in weeks. He had pretty much quit, but this occasion was acceptable for him to just smoke that one. He doesn't think he can get through the story without it. After a couple drags and seconds of silence, he sighs and looks at the floor, too scared to look at Ted in fear of the flashing color returning.

 "Remember the musical I'm writing? Workin' Boys?"

 Ted nods enthusiastically, the mention of the show making him grin. He loved hearing the other talk about it whenever he had the chance. "Yeah, why?"

 "...Well, it's based on a true story. All of those boys were my closest friends. My best friends."

 "Were?" Ted asks, his brows scrunching up as he sat in a chair in front of Henry. "What happened?"

 The man takes another long inhalation, wishing he at least had enough common sense to go grab some booze to take the edge off before he had started the story. "Do you also remember how I said I theorized this exact scenario thirty years ago? And how Paul was skeptical about that?" Ted simply hums an agreement and Henry can no longer hide.

 "There's a reason for that. And it wasn't so much a theory as it was a prediction."

~*~

 Henry Hidgens looked at his watch for what felt like the thousandth time. He had been early, but now it was 5:09 and he was still the only person there. He knew full well that the other boys weren't as picky about time as he was, but they also knew he would never let them hear the end of it if they arrived much later. Nevertheless, he just sighed and pushed his sleeve back down over his wrist, looking around the football field. Not a single person was in sight, which was admittedly different than the usual few people walking around, but he figured they were all most likely stuck in afternoon traffic. That's probably where the others were too.

 He decided that waiting by himself was getting too boring and decided to take a stroll on his own. He couldn't really go very far though. No matter how many new stores or diners that opened up around town, Hatchetfield felt so incredibly small, but was also the whole world to Henry. It's the place he had grown up, and despite how tiny it was, he could never see himself leaving. He had all he wanted right there. A stable business job, close friends, regular musicals playing at the Starlight. What more could he want?

 As he circled back to where he'd been, he could see someone walking toward him from a distance. He could tell who it was right away, the ugly tie giving the man away. Stu always wore the most atrocious ties, but Henry couldn't help but laugh at them. "How are you supposed to play in that suit?" he asked the man with a chuckle, but as he got closer, Henry noticed something different about Stu. The way he was walking towards him, with a slight smile that just didn't look right.

 And when he finally got close enough, he realized that Stu was humming. That was definitely different. Stu didn't hum. He didn't like doing things like that, singing or dancing. So when he began to sing, and his expression turned to something more sinister, Henry went from confused to frightened.

 "What's going on? Stu, what are you doing?!"

 "I want you to join me, Henry! We can sing together forever! Doesn't that sound great?"

 As he began to back up, Stu only walked closer to him, until he finally grabbed him and covered his mouth. Henry's mouth began to burn, and the sharp taste of metal made him squirm to try and get out of his friend's grasp. The burning sensation moved down his throat but still lingered in his mouth as he managed to push the other away and take a step back.

 The sound of a gunshot made the man flinch, and the sight of his friend laying on the ground made him feel like he was sinking.

~*~

 "...I assume that Stu was their trial run because no outbreak happened, and the government organization that covered up his death told me there were a few other casualties, but since the population in Hatchetfield was so small and spread out back then, they had been able to catch on and contain it. They told the public that Stu had been killed while being robbed. The other boys...they knew I was with him when he died. They blamed me for not being able to save him. He was the youngest of all the rest of us. Super smart, skipped a few grades. He needed someone to protect him...and I couldn't do it. Everyone took his death hard...including me. I haven't seen the other boys since his funeral. And since then, I've been preparing for it to all happen again. To find out just what happened to Stu. I suppose I got my answers."

 There's silence when Henry finishes speaking, and he lifts his hand to quickly wipe away the tears threatening to spill. He finally arrives at the part of the story that he's worried the most to tell Ted. The part he knows will scare him.

 "I think Stu infected me. Partially, at least."

 Ted quickly stands up, the fear evident in his eyes. "No, but you're-"

 "Still physically conscious, yes. I believe it hasn't developed enough to make me a part of the hive, but it's trying to evolve. That's what's causing the pain I'm experiencing, and my spontaneous bouts of humming to myself. Most of the time I can't control it, but I don't mean to startle you all."

 The other man begins to pace, shaking his head as he tries to process everything he was just told. It's a lot, and Ted doesn't know what to do. Eventually, without saying anything, he starts to walk back to the door.

 But Henry can't let him walk out. Panic rises in him because he can't lose another friend. He'd lost so many so quickly. He can't lose another friend, not to these aliens again. Most of all, he can't lose another friend, especially when he thinks he just might love this one more than a friend should.

 "Ted, wait!"

 "Get away from me! You've been keeping us locked up here with you when you've been one of them the whole time! You're probably just waiting to infect us all! And I fucking trusted you!"

 The words hurt him. I trusted you. Words that were all too familiar. He trusted you, Henry, and you let him die.

 This can't happen again. He'd die before he lost Ted.

 He quickly stands from his chair and rushes over to him, and before he can fully assess his actions, he pulls him close and kisses him. It's a little awkward since Henry's not used to kissing someone and isn't used to leaning down. He can tell that Ted's shocked, but he still kisses him back. It's not the spark-flying fireworks that his hopeless romantic twenty-two-year-old self had thought of, but it's real and it's comforting above everything else, and he loves it all the same.

 As he pulls back and looks at the man in front of him, he knows that Ted can see the bright color flashing in his eyes. And he knows he can also see those same eyes welling with tears.

 "I can't lose another person to this, Ted. Please. I can figure out how to stop it. I will figure out how to stop it. If I can't...you can," he says firmly, looking over at his stock of shotguns, all lined and prepared for any aliens that managed to get through the gates.

 Ted follows Henry's gaze and quickly shakes his head. "No. We're not talking about that. We...we gotta get everyone else in here. Six brains are better than one, and we need every idea we got to figure it out."

 Henry had never seen the other so determined before. Or so genuine. It was as if kissing him had flipped a switch in him, or had made any walls he'd built break down.

 Perhaps Ted had done the same to him.

 As the professor just nods and watches him leave, he gets another flash of pain in his head, but not so bad that he can't stand it. It's pain he can manage. Pain he's managed for twenty-seven years, that he just passed off as headaches for far too long.

 He knows he lied to Ted when he said he could stop it, but he needs to buy some time. He needs this time with him. To have one last lasting connection with someone before he goes. If anyone's going to kill him, he'd rather it be Ted when Henry's so far gone that he's no longer conscious of his own actions.

 It's getting stronger, and he knows it. But he can hold on for just a little longer. He has to.

----

WELP THAT’S THE END I’M GONNA GO DIE IN A HOLE AND NEVER WRITE FANFICTION AGAIN OK BYEEEEE

[kiarasdeclassified]

some REAL high school freshman advice

so, you’re finally finished with eighth grade & moving onto the next phase of your life: high school! that should be exciting, right? it’s around the time where everyone is starting to get their schedule, pick out classes, shop for new supplies & outfits… & maybe even check out some advice posts so you know what you’re getting yourself into. however, all of these posts seem to say the same thing: “join a club!” “study hard!” “go to football games!” “take an honors class!” “make some friends!” in all honesty, yes, these are great tips, but they’ve been tired out so much over the years of freshman advice posts that have been created & most importantly, don’t exclusively apply to freshmen either. so, to keep you from branding this as just another basic twitter thread on how drinking water will help you get good grades all year, i’ve compiled a list of things you probably haven’t already been told about your freshman year that will definitely be helpful.

it’s not as hard as your teachers might make it out to be.

i find that the idea of high school being absolutely impossible is mostly proposed by english teachers, so here’s an example: all throughout eighth grade, my english teacher gave my class mountains of homework, at least 2 essays every other month, and ridiculously hard tests over strange words derived from Latin. she told us constantly: “i know the work i’m giving you is challenging, but i’m preparing you for high school.” my freshman year, i had no more than three simple assignments to do per night (& even that’s a stretch), i wrote 8 essays the entire year, and my tests were pretty time consuming but they were not at all difficult. i got solid A’s in every class with some effort, but not nearly with the amount of effort my eighth grade teachers attempted to drill into me. especially if you go to public school, your high school is probably going to be a little more relaxed than your middle school is. they won’t freak out on you if you forget to turn something in. you’ll probably be allowed to take out your phone in one or two classes. you’ll most likely be able to chew gum. of course, you’re taking harder classes, so the coursework is going to be more advanced, but your teachers know that. no one expects you to be perfect, especially as a wee little freshman in a sea full of kids who have done this for at least a year or more.

that being said, you still have to put in work.

just because it isn’t going to be THAT tough doesn’t mean it’s going to be a piece of cake. you still need to develop decent study habits, even if your study “habit” is just you looking at a study guide or watching a crash course video or reviewing a quizlet the night before a test. you especially need to do this if you’re taking advanced classes; the most common classes for freshmen on the advanced track to take (depending on your school, this is just what i see the most often) are geometry and biology. both of these classes are heavily theory-based & require at least SOME studying for success, especially biology. if you aren’t taking an advanced class however, you might view this as less reason to try; but, it’s the opposite. since your coursework isn’t so fast-paced, you can focus more on the details of your unit/chapter/lesson/etc. so you can REALLY be sure to ace your tests & nail your classwork. freshman year is the easiest of all your high school years, so even if you aren’t taking advanced classes, you need to try, even if it’s just a little. you won’t regret it.

don’t take an advanced class if you know you can’t handle it.

an unwritten rule of thumb with most high school classes is that you can fail every test, but as long as you complete & turn in all of your classwork & homework, you will pass the class; while keeping that in mind, it’s important to note that advanced classes usually come with summer homework, group seminars, bigger projects, accelerated coursework, & a heavier load on your academic life in general. if you have little to no work ethic, advanced classes are not for you. if you know you’re going to be too lazy to even start any summer work & you won’t turn in any homework during the year, don’t even think about taking the class. but if you can’t even trust yourself to fulfill the latter part of that statement, don’t do it. if you’ve already signed up for it, drop out of it. if you can’t drop the class, good luck buttercup.

get a job if you can.

you’re getting older, you probably don’t want to have to ask your parent or guardian for money all the time, you’ll want to go out & buy things & do fun things with your friends, or if you’re more introverted, maybe even stay at home & spend your money on something nice you saw online. many places understand that you’re a teenager that has just ventured out into high school & began working, so they can be flexible with schedules & hours. this isn’t the post for me to spew out job info, but you can start your job search by googling “[desired workplace (mcdonald’s, walmart, etc.)] careers” & checking their application for an age limit. if there’s one clearly listed & you’re too young, don’t apply; however, if you’re old enough or if there isn’t one, then go ahead & apply! apply to multiple places at once so you have a better chance of landing one, then call back after around 2-3 days & let them know you’re checking on an application. if you don’t want to call, be ready to wait; i avoided doing this & didn’t hear back from what was eventually my first job for 4 months. regardless, having your own money that you know you earned yourself is an amazing feeling, & treating yourself with it is an even better one.

if you want to go to college, start planning.

if you’re an overachiever like i was back when i was a little freshie, then you’ve probably already started doing this; however, if you don’t care to start looking in depth at colleges, you should at least decide what you want to do after high school. take a career cluster inventory test to figure out what you’d enjoy most as a career & use this to decide between 2-3 potential majors/minors; then, complete the texas reality check to see what careers fit your ideal lifestyle. while these aren’t concrete plans at all, it’s good to at least have an idea of what you’d like to do, so you can eventually use this to decide on something later on. even with this in mind, it’s okay if you don’t even know what you want to do yet & no tests you’ve taken have helped you. at the end of eighth grade, i wanted to go into music; at the end of freshman year, i wanted to go into marketing; at the end of sophomore year, i wanted to double major in chemistry & entrepreneurship. it’s fine to be all over the place interest-wise, & it’s fine to have no clue what you enjoy interest-wise. you have a whole four years to make solid plans, so don’t stress it.

college isn’t your only option.

even though this is probably what your teachers, peers, or maybe even family has drilled into your head for a little while, you have so many other options besides college. you can go into the military if you’d like, even if you’re not interested in combat (there’s other positions too, you know); you can go to technical school for something like cosmetology, mechanics, welding, esthetics, etc.; you could go straight into the workforce or start a business if your interests point you into that direction; you could even do something as simple as an apprenticeship for specific jobs. if college was truly the only postsecondary choice, it would be so much harder to get into the schools you wanted to go to, since almost another 1.1 MILLION students in the United States alone would be applying as well. it’s an unrealistic expectation for everyone to go to college, so you’re not “lazy” or a “bum” because you don’t want to.

most importantly, HAVE (safe & solicited) FUN.

you’re in high school! soon enough, you’ll be driving, making your own plans, talking to your friends 24/7 (even if it’s just on tumblr!), & becoming more independent in general. these are the last four years of your life where you can act like a complete fool outside of school before you become an adult. have fun. bend the rules a little--if you want. whatever you do, don’t give into peer pressure. trust me, NO ONE cares if you don’t want to drink or vape or smoke or have sex, as long as you don’t act like you’re above anyone because you choose not to. never let anyone make you do something you don’t want to do. learn how to say no if you feel uncomfortable with something. if you’re into going out, i don’t recommend doing anything illegal, but if you’re going to, always have a trusted friend in a clear state of mind around who can help you stay safe & protected from harm’s way until you’re at home in your bed (or somewhere else where you feel secure) for the night.

popularity means absolutely nothing.

always have one close friend or a tight-knit circle of friends that you can trust & who you know won’t spread your business around. if something happens & you need someone to fall back on, it’s always better to have 1 real friend you can tell anything to than 10 fake friends who you’re iffy about trust-wise. i get it; almost everybody has wanted to be part of the “in” crowd & has wanted to hang out with them; talk to them; dress like them; be friends with them. eventually, you’ll realize none of that matters. it didn’t click for me until the last 4-5 months of sophomore year. there is no difference between you & rebecca over there with her 2000 instagram followers. she’s [hopefully] being herself, & you should be too. you’ll find your proper crowd, even if it isn’t until the end of high school.

i cannot stress this enough, BE YOURSELF.

who cares if everyone thinks math club is lame? what if your future best friend is in there? wanna go for the volleyball team but you don’t want to seem basic? so what? you’re interested in running for student government but you’re afraid no one will vote for you? you’ll never know if you don’t try! go ahead & wear whatever you want, hang out with whoever you want, listen to whatever music you want, & join whatever clubs you want. fix up the black belt you got from the men’s section at the thrift store slip on your checkered vans. go buy some cute stickers for your hydroflask while blasting billie eilish & ariana grande. finish that painting or developing those cool pictures you took last weekend. DO YOU. don’t stress this whole high school thing; you’ve got this. :)