#even if I *have* been staying off the horrible concrete part

[sinni-ok-sessi]

riddle me this: why can I do three hours of energetic social dancing with, like, moderate achiness but no pain-pain, but two dances in class leave me barely able to walk?

[dtrghost]

closeness and proximity

Side note: This is my first ever tumblr fic, so uh, be gentle!! moving on!

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, violence, angst, descriptions of interrogation and torture, INTENSE gore (imo), cursing, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. If you have a weak stomach or faint heart, please do not read this, like please.

I'd also like to start this off by saying that the mc is not a good person, and that is on purpose. I've seen a lot of the angel fics where ghost falls for his antithesis, so I decided to try something new. So here, please forgive any mistakes.

if this does become a series there will most likely be smut because,,, yes.

(update it's becoming a series so if someone wants to be tagged for that lmk cause i have so many ideas for this)

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

Word count: 3.4k

"Sunshine how copy?" Ghost's gruff, static filled voice called through coms, scope checking the parameters of the building she found herself held up in. She didn't respond at first, busy fighting for her life in a basement underneath the building they weren't aware of.

The deeper she went the harder it was to understand what was being relayed to her, so she settled on doing it on her own. He listened to a man grunt, their body dropping to the floor under her boot as she took a deep breath.

"There's a basement underground, coms are cutting out. I'm taking charge on clearing the basement. I'll report when I get to the surface. Sunshine out." She loathed her callsign with a passion. To speak it caused a burning hatred to spark in the lowest depths of her heart and made her cringe horribly. However, she knew it was better than letting everyone know her real name, so she dealt with it.

Ghost sighed, knowing she couldn't be stopped once she started. She had been on a few missions together in the past few years, he knew she was uptight and lacked the emotional capacity to make friends with others. It made him wonder why, what could've been that bad to freeze her heart over and shrink it to the size of the pebble he was crushing under his foot as he shifted uncomfortably. People would try and try to thaw her out, yet always failed.

He waited, taking out strays that attempted to heed the possible rescue requests that came from that basement, and patiently waited.

"This is Sunshine, basement cleared. Might wanna come take a look at this." His eyebrows furrowed, affirming the request and making his way down quickly, not wanting to stay in the open for too long. He made his way to the basement, eyes widening at the various bodies that trailed to wherever she was down there.

Had she done this all by herself?

He followed the bodies all the way to her, lights flickering, casting a bland white light on the concrete walls. seeing her digging through an opened trunk in a room filled with them.

"Weapons. American." Sunshine reported, glancing at him as he took his place next to her, seeing the American flag painted onto the inside of the lid. She turned at the sound of a groan, a soldier she left alive rousing to consciousness.

"Fuckin' hell. This mission was to take out ultranationalists." Ghost sighed. She didn't respond, the task force member watching her turn on her heel and grab the soldier by vest, throwing him against the wall with impressive strength. Blood flowed out of the back of his head, smearing against the wall as he slowly slid to the floor. He had never seen her in interrogation, but he had heard from those who have.

Brutal, heartless, some had to exit the room.

He wouldn't. He's witnessed plenty of torture tactics, even had to rely on some himself to get information necessary for national security. But this is another reason why they called her 'Sunshine', because to others she didn't feel remorse for what she did, some said she enjoyed it even, that her eyes brightened like the sun peaking over the horizon. Whether that was true or not he'd figure out now, as eager as he was. He watched her take out her knife, flipping it in her hand as she crouched to the soldier's level.

"Where'd they come from." She asked simply, keeping an even tone that surprised Ghost. He expected something more fierce, intimidating, but it was as if she was starting a conversation with a normal person. The victim attempted to spit in her face, but with a quick turn on the head it landed on the floor behind her. Her knife dug itself into his foot, his cries of pain echoing in the basement as she twisted it. The sounds of his bones cracking made Ghost shiver.

"Where'd they come from. Who sold them to you." She persisted, her face void of all emotion as she ripped the blade out of his foot. She sighed, turning to ghost who stood in the back, surveying the action. His eyebrows furrowed as she pointed to the door with her knife.

"Wait outside. This might take awhile." At first he didn't move, but the hint of impatience in her eyes spooked him out, for reasons unknown to him, but instinct told him to listen. So he slowly retreated and stood watch outside for anyone either getting up or rushing down the stairs. Y/N turned back to her victim, seeing two loops with chains hanging off of them imbedded into the wall. She tied his arms up, leaving his body sagging down.

Ghost listened to her repeat her questions, and when she didn't get an answer, a shout would follow. But those shouts turned to ear-piercing screams very quickly. He listened to pleads and begs of mercy to understand him, that he couldn't say anything out fear to what they'd do to him.

"Imagine what I'll do next if I don't get the response I want." She'd respond.

The bones cracking, the retch of vomiting, blood splattering onto the cold concrete.

"If you think you can outlast me, that I'll get tired of this and stop for the night to let you regain some of your humanity, you're wrong. Because unfortunately for you sweetheart." The blade tore through his skin, another bellow of pain emerging from his throat as he squirmed in his place. They were both coated in blood, her eyes dull and her ears tuning out the noise. To her, it was as if he was silent, his screams didn't penetrate through to her, and talked and talked until it drove him mad.

"I don't have all night, and I'm getting impatient. You won't die, I wouldn't allow that. I went through med school, graduated top of my class with a doctorate in Neuroscience. I know how to break." Which was evident as his leg was broken and facing different directions from the knee down to his toes.

"And I know how to fix. I'll keep you alive a lot longer than the night, and I'll do a lot worse. So if you want this to end, start talking, or you're in for a long week." Simon wondered what she was doing. His mind went over the possibilities until her victim finally cracked after the final scream he unleashed into the empty basement. He detailed a secret arms trade between an ally of the United States' and another country, which would lead to the likeliness of intentions for them.

War.

Y/N huffed, ripping off a piece of the soldiers shirt that wasn't soaked in sweat, blood, or vomit, which was a very small one, and wiping her hands clean as best as she could.

"Could've said that 10 minutes ago. Now, you'll bleed out within the next 5. Shame." Ghost listened to his anguished sobs as footsteps approached him, turning around from the entrance to see her, covered in blood. His eyes widened slightly, noticing a piece of...

Her eyes followed his to her vest, noticing a very small piece of flesh sitting between her shirt and gear before flicking it off to the side.

"Hopefully he didn't have HIV." She joked, but there was no humor in her voice, no sign of her finding it funny at all, as if she said it to just say it. Ghost didn't respond, he wasn't sure how. He slowly moved to look inside the room, the curiosity of what she did to the soldier eating him alive, until she grabbed his roughly.

"Don't." The word sent shivers down his spine, and he knew better than the disobey as she had operational command authority, and would likely court martial him if he had. So he took a step back and maintained eye contact, radioing in to Price.

"Captain, this is Ghost. How copy." He called, his gruff voice bringing a smile to her lips that he couldn't see due to her mask which was just a boring black one, decorated with blotches of drying blood that lightened up enough to see. "This is Price."

"We found weapons and gear, they're American." He went onto explain the situation, being weary of his mission leader walking around him in circles, waiting impatiently as he reported their findings.

"Copy that. I'll transfer this to Lanswell. Good work, report back to base for debrief."

"Copy, Ghost out." He connected his radio back to his vest. She took out her pistol, leading him to pull out his own. The behavior she exhibited was one he hadn't seen often, and it led to a deep mistrust he couldn't shake. She smirked, turning around, walking back in the room, and confirming her kill with a bullet between the eyes before reappearing in front of him.

He looked at her suspiciously as she gestured to the stairs, wondering who trained her, who made her into what she is now. She wasn't normal, not like the rest of them, she had no signs of remorse, care, or empathy for the people she killed, and she killed them with ease. Over 30 soldiers in one cramped basement and she came out unscathed, in tip top shape. He followed her out and made it to the landing zone where a helicopter came to pick them up.

She was silent the whole way back, Price being there to greet the two before they sat through debrief.

"Sunshine, we have orders from headquarters to have you join Task Force 141. Ghost is to watch over you. An official introduction will be made tomorrow." Price announced, not missing the tightened grip of Ghost's fist on the table.

"Copy that captain." She responded in her usual tone, only fueling Ghost's anger as he turned to glare at her, though she only ignored him, keeping her gaze unwavering on Price.

"Hit the showers soldier." Price dismissed, Y/N being the first to leave. But before she did, she turned to look down at her new partner.

"Happy to be on the team, Mr. Riley." It took his everything to not jump to his feet and knock her out, holding his breath to calm himself down as she walked away, the door shutting behind her. He hated that she had power over him, and worse that she rubbed it in his face.

"There's no chance in hell I'll stand for her being on my team." He immediately threw at him, standing up in his seat with his finger pressing firmly on the table in front of him.

"First, it's my team. Second, It's not my choice, orders are orders." Ghost growled lowly, clearly upset over the lack of fighting to keep her off, to keep her away to those he held near and dear to his heart, even if that wasn't too close to begin with. He saw her as a danger, an immediate threat, someone who belonged in an institution before they saw the battlefield.

"Then send an appeal. She's a war criminal. Tell em that!" He snapped.

"Bloody hell we're all war criminals. Then we'll be stuck in prison with her and you'll complain some more." Price groaned, rubbing his forehead, clearly irritated by his soldier's insistence.

"Not like that. Not how she is. She'll kill one of us before we get the next mission, hell she parade around our bodies like a joker and hail-" Price's hand slammed on the table, cutting his lieutenant off.

"Quiet." Ghost went silent, sighing deeply as he waited for Price to gather the right words, to somehow ease his mistrust in her, though he doubted she could do that. He watched as he shut the door and locked it, keeping his voice hushed, standing closer to his comrade.

"This is classified information, what I say stays in this room and is to never be discussed with anyone else. Is that understood lieutenant." Ghost's eyes widened for a moment before nodding in affirmation, waiting for his captain to continue.

"She- she wasn't brought up normally. As a great many soldiers weren't, hence why many of them join the ranks in the first place. She was a prodigy, she became a seal at 17, and on her second mission she was set up, deserted, and kidnapped. Nobody knows what happened to her in there, a search team was sent out, but she wasn't found til a few months later, and when she came out after she was different."

She was a child.

That's all Ghost could thing about. God knows what happened to her in there, and he didn't want to think about it.

"She exhibited sociopathic tendencies, she was closed off, didn't speak for a very long time. She failed psychological evaluation requirements, depression, ptsd, ecetera. Even then they sent her back out on missions a couple months later." Simon's eyes blew open, Price nodding glumly.

"Missions? Fuckin' hell, she needs help not special ops." He sneered, not at Price, but his anger was seeping through at rates he couldn't control. He was angry, how could they do that to someone? Did they not care, not even a little bit for her life? Her wellbeing?

"I know. But they're not taking her out any time soon, and now that she's on our team the least we can do is try to help her. I knew her before she became this. She was a kind soul." His voice dropped to a whisper, as if reminiscing, and he was. Her bright eyes, so full of potential when they met for her first mission, how she wheezed when she laughed. She was a kid, and it hurt his heart thinking about what she turned into over the last 6 years. Ghost nodded, silently agreeing to his motives before Price simply waved him off.

Simon hit the showers, scrubbing off the dirt and gunpowder that clung to his skin, watching the water turn black as the face paint drizzled down into it. The captain's words ran through his head over and over, the words going in one ear, through his brain, and out the other in a constant circle. He knew firsthand how corrupt his line of work could be, but that didn't make him any less angry when it revealed itself to him in the ways it did.

When he exited, fully dried and clothed with his mask back on, he passed by Y/N's room, noticing the light peaking out from underneath the door. He sighed quietly, his hand coming up and knocking on the door.

"It's open." Her cold voice responded, though it sounded more distant than before. He twisted the knob and let the door open, seeing her laying on her cot in deep thought. He went to question her, until he realized that she probably listened in on their conversation.

"You were listening." She nodded once, curtly and formally before sitting up and turning to look at him. Her eyes narrowed for a moment, analyzing every aspect about him. He felt like he was being stripped naked just by her look, his soul bare for her to look into.

Her eyes drifted over his exposed arms, the sleeveless tank he wore leaving them on display. He was a big guy, his arms were veined and muscled, tattoos filling up a majority of the space, combined with scars that passed through some of them. The top he wore was a bit tight, outline his chest in an attractive way, but she forced her eyes away, knowing he already caught onto what she was staring at.

"Price is right. I wasn't always like this. And I think he was the only one to notice, or at least point it out." She began, drawing attention away from the fact she just checked him out shamelessly.

"Wasn't right, what happened to you." He replied stiffly. She snickered, standing up. He watched her pace the room, twisting a knife in her hands, causing him to tense. She noticed.

"I'm not going to stab you lieutenant." She reassured, though it didn't help at all as she went on. She wasn't sure what she felt, confused for sure, as to why she was unable to emotionally process her emotions or evaluate the information she heard, as if her mind was barring her from contextualizing her state of mind. She knew she wasn't normal, but she couldn't bring herself to accept it and label herself.

"I was 17 when I was taken, you know that. Had a rough upbringing, I won't explain that to you now." She wasn't sure where she was going with this, and neither was he, but he'd listen for a bit to try and understand her more, maybe to trust her more now that she was his teammate. "I can feel emotion you know. Only to a certain degree, I can empathize. Fleeting, but it's there sometimes. I do feel some remorse, but you know how we are in this field. Weakness will get you killed, so you internalize it, you keep it buried underneath everything else, and because my everything else was stripped away with me, it just sits in here." She tapped her temple and shrugged. He understood what she meant, he did that too. He withheld his shame, his guilt, and his remorse, remaining a stone cold figure in the field. He saved the emotional crap for his time alone where he could deal with it in the way he knew how.

"You just let it sit there then?" He pressed, crossing his arms over his chest. She nodded.

"Don't know what to do with it. Lost my sense of self and all I know is this job. I do try though, I try to force some tears like I've seen others do, but the only time these.. feelings present themselves is on my missions, which is why everyone thinks I enjoy it. But I don't, for the record, I just can't control it like you guys do. And I envy you for that." His eyes widened slightly.

"Envy, huh."

"Mhm. You can talk to each other, find common ground and relate, make friends and connections. I can't because I don't feel like you guys do. And then you demonize me and outcast me more than I already am, so. Oops." He thought she was getting upset, but she wasn't, there was not a hint of anger or sadness or negative emotion in her person whatsoever, none that he could see anyway. Her arms were loose and carefree as she swung them around every time she turned her heel to pace back in the direction she just walked in.

"We can help you." Her first sign of feeling was an eye roll with a steady irritated gaze. But she didn't say anything. The idea of needing help repulsed her beyond anything else, made her want to punch a wall and scream, her eyes widened. Anger. There it is, outside of a mission too. She hummed, looking back at him.

"Alright Casper." He grunted, displeased by the new nickname which made her smile widen cheekily. She searched his eyes for a moment, finding entertainment in the small flames in his amber eyes, how they flickered and danced when he found something humorous, how they died out when he found something unamusing or boring, how they raged when he grew angry or determined to finish something with a newfound passion.

She liked to think he had that burn in his eyes when Price spoke to him about the notion of helping her, hoping that he'd care that much even if she didn't want the help, or perhaps she did, that would explain the want would it not? That was a thought for later. For now she'd do her job the way she knew how, she wouldn't change, not yet, not that she knew how anyway.

"We're going out for a drink tomorrow night, care to tag along." He offered, jousting his chin up at her in a heads up manner.

"I don't drink." She replied, monotone as she laid down on her cot, shutting her eyes with a sigh. He watched her body sink into the bed, all stress and tension releasing, and he took that as his dismissal. He shut the door behind him, releasing a breath and walking back to his room, confused and tired where he slept on the day's events.

Though he was curious on how tomorrow would turn out.

And that's it! If you want a series out of this let me know!! It's my first fic and I'll probably binge a bunch because I feel like writing. I'm still trying to figure out the whole border thing I wanna make everything aesthetic or whatever but yeah.

See you guys next time!!

[wordsarelife]

—𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐠𝐮𝐞: 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞

pairing: theo nott x fem!reader

summary: theo and you used to be friends. that was a long time ago. now you pretty much hate each other and theo uses his feelings about you to write a song!

warnings: i don’t think there are any! let me know if that’s not true :)

note: here it is!! finally the prologue is here! don’t worry the actual chapters will be much longer. we just needed a starting point! hope you enjoy!!!

word count: 0.9k

masterlist | next part

there was a single path connecting the backyard of the two houses, making it almost hard not to run into each other. despite that, you had sworn yourself to never set a foot on said path ever again, always straying away before your feet could touch the concrete. 

you hadn't been watching him, but it seemed that theo was doing the same. you had never once spotted him wandering across the yard. 

because your eyes were still fixated on the path, you didn't notice the movement in the window across from you, only looking up, when you heard the knocking through your opened window. theo was standing there, watching you with a smirk, before he reached for his pen and wrote something. 

he grabbed his bag, winking at you, before he slapped the paper against the window, turning around and walking out of his room before you were able to react. 

'bye, pixie'  he had written, making you sigh. he had called you that ever since one fateful day in your childhood. because, believe it or not, theo and you had been friends once.

you had been seven when you tried to cut your own hair, much to your mother's dismay, who had dragged you to a hairstylist the same day, eager to fix the mess you had created. there wasn't much to save or fix so you ended up with a rather horrible pixie cut for the next few months.

your hair had eventually grown out to it's normal length, the pixie fading away before you could even start to be ashamed of it, but theo wasn't one to let go of things quickly, so he had been calling you that to this day.

and since your friendship had ended, making room for the hatred towards each other, he seemed to just get a rise of the way it bothered you so much. 

you rolled your eyes, pushing back the feeling of annoyance as you dragged your curtain close so you wouldn't have to look at his window anymore. 

✦•〰〰〰〰〰★🎸☆⋆｡𖦹°‧★〰〰〰〰〰〰•✦

theo arrived at the garage sooner than he would've predicted, lazily leaning his bike against the wall, before he walked inside. 

"you're early" mattheo noted, while taking a look at his phone. 

"don't flatter yourself" theo smiled, before he ruffled mattheo's hair, sitting down on the couch beside his best friend. "what about the others?" 

"enzo forget his guitar, blaise and draco went with him to get it" 

"he forgot it again?" theo sighed, leaning back into the cushion. 

"he's been acting up quite a lot" mattheo shrugged "maybe it's the stress"

theo shrugged, before he grabbed his bag, taking out the red leather book. "i have something to finish" 

"another song?" mattheo furrowed his brows, before he stood up and walked across the room. 

"maybe" theo shrugged "i've been working on something" his mind wandered off. 

"might not be the worst idea to put out another single right after the album. we'll stay relevant that way" mattheo pointed out and theo nodded absentmindedly. "i'll leave you to it" mattheo walked in the direction of the door, a towel in his hand. he was probably going swimming in the lake that was right next to the garage. 

the garage was more of a loft than an actual garage. but it had always been called that and every member of cursed legacy was rather keen on sticking to things. 

"we are relevant" theo argued, right before mattheo snuck out the door. he could not hear his answer, if mattheo had even answered anything. 

theo sighed as his eyes fell back on the unfinished song in his book. the words had fallen right out of his mind and on the page it seemed. somehow this song had been easier to write than any other he had written. and that had been almost every song on cursed legacy's first album: neon nights.

sometimes mattheo or blaise had helped him. enzo and draco often had ideas for a few lines, but ultimately most of their songs were written by theo. 

he jotted down more and more lines, adding the chorus, the bridge. occasionally he stopped writing to play a few notes on draco's keyboard, making sure the lines were fitting the melody. in just less than thirty minutes he had a finished song. 

loud noises in front of the door made theo look up from the book. the door was opened by blaise and he entered the garage closely followed by draco and enzo and also mattheo, who had probably run into them right outside. 

"hey" enzo greeted "sorry that we're late, honestly my fault, but—“

theo shook his head, interrupting the boy "it's fine, enzo. i want you guys to listen to something" 

"sure" draco pushed enzo forward, so he had enough room to sit down on the couch. the rest of their group took their respective seats as well, ready to listen to whatever theo was wanting to show them. 

they all listened attentively as theo played the notes on the keyboard, eventually adding the lyrics he had written down, until they were presented with the whole song. they looked at each other, smiling in silent agreement. 

"what do you think?" theo asked, but his friends did not answer. they all got up, taking their instruments and resuming to their positions next to him. 

"what are you waiting for?" draco asked when theo had not moved to stand in front of the microphone.

"let's record it right now" enzo added when he noticed theo's confused look. 

theo smiled upon his friends enthusiam. "sure" he nodded, grabbing his mic and stepping into the middle of their little circle.

thank you so much for reading!!

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[unofficially-a-pterodactyl]

This Will Be The Day That I Die

Part 2 |

Pairings: Wednesday X Reader (Any gender)

Warnings: Suicide attempt, Mental health issues, depression, Wednesday being a psycho, crying, reader having bad parents.

Words: 900+

It was time for the results. You already knew you would fail again, but you couldn't this time, your parents think you are a disgrace. You wanted to slap the good results into their face but only if you got them. You had failed, again and again. Principal Weems was concerned. Maybe putting across this to your parents might help, but she doesn't know how they behave. Only if she knew.

You were waiting for your parents by the door to the Principal's office. Trying to control the tears, you looked above, to see them coming. It had felt like your death was near.

"What did you do this time?" Your father grabbed you by the chin and moved it to look straight into his eyes. "Do have anything else to do rather than just shaming us in front of the whole school?" He tried to clench his nails against your chin and neck but released it forcefully and scoffed. He opened the door to peacefully greet Weems, if anything your family was good at was being fake. "Good Morning Mr. and Mrs. Y/L/N. Please grab a seat" Weems smiled and looked at you, her smile disappeared when she saw you, not because of your horrible results but because of how you looked. You had dark circles underneath your eyes. You just happened to look very weak for an outcast who is a vampire.

As you stood beside your mother, Weems had given your father a report of your results. "I'm concerned about Y/N, their results have been dropping since last semester. Is everything okay with her?" Weems with care in her eyes looked at you, but you were trying to hide your face by looking down to the floor. Oh good it will be, the cold harsh floor mixed with hot red blood. The fact that it sounds like an irony, but it's not.

Your father had laughed it off, he had already hated the fact that your mental health was awful, and now people suspecting it will make him just angrier. He didn't want it getting out. "There is nothing wrong with them, okay? They just don't study."

"I might agree but I have seen Y/N trying hard enough, I was just concerned that it might be some environmental factors or even the condition of her in your house." Weems had put across a valid point but your father was a rigid piece.

"YOU THINK Y/N IS NOT BEING TREATED GOOD??!" He shouted your mother trying to stop him, it all depends on their reputation after all.

"I didn't mea-"

"YOU CERTAINLY DID, WE'RE DONE HERE" He got up and your mother grabbed your wrist and followed your father out of her room.

She released it forcefully and turned to look at you, "You can't do anything right, can you?"

"I wish you would have died the day you were born" Your father clenched his fist. "whatever, lets just leave, she's a shame on our family."

"I'm sorry please" you cried as they left. Your body had felt so heavy, that you fell on your knees and whined. Your chest was stinging. You saw them leave, again.

You wish they stayed, but they never did. You wish they could have understood you, they never did.

You felt a cold hand on your shoulder, you wiped your tears and looked above. Finding Addams.

"What?" your hoarse voice had said in very not polite way.

"Comforting people is not really my forte but, I suppose being a killer is better than being a cry baby" For first time, her voice didn't sound so rude as it did before.

"What do you mean?" You stood and looked straight into her eyes with a confused expression.

"I think you should not let them have the peace of you struggling. I can help you with that if you want." She smirked.

"God, Wednesday are you kidding me?" You rolled your eyes and left for your dorm.

______________________________________________________________

How good it will be, to see the hot blood spilled on the cold concrete floor. It was over for you. You handled it for so long now you have to burst out. Silently.

It's said that truth hits you hard but reality waits for you until you're ready to accept it. Then it hits like an irony of emotions. Peace yet a piece of confusion in your heart that wants to rest. Supplying blood for a long time isn't really easy, you know.

As you enjoyed 'American Pie' for one last time, reciting the lyrics "This will be the day that I die." A smile appeared on your face. Just imagine how your rested body will feel, free of the world.

As the song was in its last verse, you picked up a blade near your wrist, ready. You relived the memories you made, with Enid, Yoko, and Bianca. Sometimes even Weems, then the new goth girl. Wednesday.

You think about Wednesday, remembering what she said to you. She might have been right. Dying is boring, but taking revenge on the people is adventurous. You throw away the blade and run away. Never to be found again.

She should be right.

They were singin', Bye bye, Miss American Pie

Drove my chevy to the levee but the levee was dry

Them good ol' boys were drinkin' whiskey and rye

Singing, "this will be the day that I die"

______________________________________________________________

Part 2?

[cherryredstars]

Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: Arguments, Insecurity, Angst/Comfort, Angst, Mentions of Sex

Word Count: 6.1k

“I tried to hate you, to forgive you, all just to forget you, but I'm only capable of loving you. You're tattooed onto my skin, and the more I try to erase you, the deeper you sink in.” ― Mirella Muffarotto

Part 1

For all the years he shared with you, he knows that there were only three serious fights. 

The rest were playful things, more teasing than argumentative. Tiny jabs that were paired with wide smiles and not-so-subtle giggles. The first fight was the summer after you and he graduated from the academy, weeks before the two of you were about to go off to college. Miguel had chosen to stay in-state, getting a full ride scholarship to a prestigious school and an internship level job at Alchemax. On the other hand, you had gotten accepted to your dream school in a state over. It was a 4 hour drive, 8 hours to and back. The both of you had pushed the subject away during high school, the technicality of it not seeming concrete at the time. Neither of you wanted to think about how you’d go from seeing each other every week to maybe a few times a month. But, the closer and closer summer began to end, the more the unspoken tension grew. 

It had been a burst of insecurity on both of your ends. Miguel was scared that you’d find someone new with your time away, that you’d forget about him between your studies and the new people you’d undoubtedly attract. Meanwhile, you feared holding Miguel back. You had never been as smart as him, and you didn’t want to be a burden for him to worry about with all the distance between the two of you. He was already so much more successful than you, and it pained you to think you’d be the reason he never reached his full potential. The worry and tension built up until it exploded. 

It was a horrible mess of regretful words and sharp jabs. Untrue accusations and yelling that echoed in the small space of Miguel’s beat up car. A combination of Miguel's frustrated slams against the wheel and your aggravated hiccups. When you had stormed out of the car with a harsh slam of the door, Miguel drove off as a newly single man. It was a rough break up that left the both of you depressed and grumpy, unsure how a good year of love could end with one argument. Both of you were young and naive, still thinking love wasn't meant to have these challenges. The thoughts that surely if you fought it wasn't meant to be, that no good, long-lasting relationship would have strong arguments.

When the two of you went off to college, the remains of the argument was pushed to the back of your minds. It was hidden behind after-lecture hangouts and time consuming assignments. But in the late nights stuck in dorm rooms or when both of you needed someone to talk to and rant about your frustrations, the loneliness and emptiness of each other burned strong. Miguel spent those lonely moments on his phone, smiling sadly at old videos of the two of you, fingers zooming in to catch all the small details frozen in time through pictures. But those peaceful reminiscences would not last long, that sharp twist of his heart resurfacing and he would feel your absence stronger. 

Even with all that hurt, he could not bring himself to try to get rid of it. He clutched onto it like a lifeline, clinging onto it like a child refusing to give up his favorite toy. It was the only real reminder he had of you with you so far away. Even if he did want to get rid of it, he physically and mentally couldn't. The mere thought of him touching someone, of trying to connect to someone the same way you connected with him, made him sick. It made bile burn at his throat and forced him to spend hours in his shitty apartment with his annoying roommate. His friends practically joked that he was a nun, refusing to flirt with girls at parties and got disgusted at the talk of porn. In reality, you had consumed his mind, altered the way he perceived the world so strongly, that he found anything not involving you unworthy of his time. 

How could he indulge in those things when you had shown him how much better they could be. How could he like the way some random bar girl brushed against his arm when your touch made his skin glow and for electricity to shoot up his arm? How could he want to spend a single night with any girls when he had spent thousands with you in the comfort of your room. When you offered him more than nights of love making, giving him someplace warm to rest and be cared for. How could he find enjoyment in staged videos when you had given him the real sensations of pleasure and the beauty of your noises? Any free moment on his mind was you. You, and you, and you, and you again. 

It was the biggest relief for Miguel, and the rest of his friends and family, when you had returned home for the summer. He had found out from a mutual friend and he took the chance to see you during a group hangout. It was no surprise to the rest of his friends when the two of you instantly reconnected again. Miguel couldn’t help but be sucked into your orbit again, gravitating to your side at every opportunity and desperately trying to spark conversation. The longing and happiness radiated off the both of you so strongly that he was sure the whole establishment felt it. It wasn’t much of a surprise when the two of you went missing sometime later, escaping into an empty alleyway where the faintest noises echoed off the brick walls.

The both of you agreed it would be a summer fling, a way to get rid of any lingering feelings for each other. The summer fling turned into an off-and-on relationship during the school year, until Miguel showed up to your college sometime during the 3rd year and called it quits. He had pushed you into your apartment in a fiery kiss, begging you between desperate kisses to take him back fully, to stop giving him his heart back because it only ever belonged to you. That night both of you were thankful that your roommate was studying abroad. He had you pinned to the bed until the both of you were too sore to move, blissfulness covering your bodies as he clung tightly to you. He never knew a greater peace than being in your arms, your soft hands delicately ruining his hair even more. Late into the night, he had apologized into your neck, saying everything he wished he said on the night of the argument. You had done the same, giving him soft kisses over his face and pulling him more into you. 

When Miguel finally went to sleep that night, he vowed to himself that he would never argue with you like that again. He wouldn’t lose you. Not again.

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The second fight was years later. 

Miguel had been acting differently, more distant. He came home later, was hesitant to touch you when he used to go crazy if he wasn’t glued to your side. He never really looked at you anymore, not being able to handle eye contact for more than a few seconds before turning away from you. Miguel knew it was suspicious, too sudden to not be. One day he was the loving, doting man you had known for years, and then the next he was practically a stranger living with you. And every time, every goddamn time you tried to help, to reach out to him, to remind him you were there to share his troubles; he would lash out. He would get angry, push away from you and isolate himself more. It hurt. It hurt that he was hurting. It hurt that he knew you were hurting. It hurt that you also felt like he was gone even though he was in the same home. 

A month of this behavior had you fed up. This time, you told yourself you would push. You didn’t try your resigned smiles and hoped giving him more space would bring him closer. You would push, and push, and push. You had stayed up that night, nursing a cup of wine as you stared at the TV. Miguel doesn’t think you were really paying attention to what was on, just watching a collection of colors shift until the sound of his key in the knob broke through the low volume. You hadn’t turned to him when he entered, you had sat silently as he placed his things away. He was aware of your presence, even from outside the front door, but he still was surprised to find you awake. His darling angel, a woman he has never deserved, searching for the answers to his behavior in the late hours between burgundy sips. He stood there, keeping his distance before sighing and moving towards the bathroom.  

You had gotten up to follow him when he tried to walk away, the wine glass long forgotten on the coffee table. As you chased him, you let all the words and feelings you had bottle up flow from your mouth. You had questions on questions for him: Why won’t you talk to me? Why are you acting like this? Why are you always out so late? Why won’t you just look at me? The questions stabbed at Miguel and he walked faster to get away from the sound of your voice. He could feel a headache forming, everything was becoming too loud: your voice, the noise of cars, the sound of his own fucking steps. 

He didn’t realize what he was doing in the moment, the tingling awareness and sensations blending into one. He didn’t realize the sound and the spike running through his body was you. He didn’t realize how hard he gripped your wrist when you had moved your hand out to stop his fast walking. Didn’t know how powerful he was when he pushed you into the wall in the hallway. Not until the loud thud multiplied in his ears. Not until he felt the awful warmth of your skin under his bruising fingers. Not until his eyes fully focused on your face. Not until that awful sob tore through your throat. 

Miguel never knew how badly someone would want to kill themselves until that very moment. Seeing the way your tear-filled eyes stared up at him, the way he knew an imprint of his fingers would stain your wrist. Knowing the way he hurt you and had made you cry. A panic seized his chest and he quickly dropped your wrist. His arms had wrapped around you, pushing your face into his shirt to try to dampen the noises of your sobs. His comfort made you cry harder, and he wished he could take his newly developed claws and use them to tear himself to shreds for hurting you. He had whispered in your ear sad apologies, praying that you would forgive him. He had asked, in a voice so broken and so foreign to anything he’d ever spoken, to not be scared of him. You can be anything you want, he had pleaded, just don’t be scared of me.

“This is the first time in a month that you’ve willingly touched me, Miguel.”

His mind had blanked at the hiccup filled response. He almost wished you were scared of him. Wished that whatever he did could be easily fixed and resolved. That he only hurt you in a single moment, not over such a long period of time. He wished that he could turn back time and prevent all of this. Wished that the solution to this problem wasn’t the one thing he feared the most. Wished, with everything in him, that he was someone else. Someone who deserved you and someone who didn’t hurt you the way he’s hurt you. He didn’t hold back the slow mumbles of repeated 'sorry's, petting the soft locks of your hair as you shook against his frame.  His eyes had begun to sting, and he felt the sharp points of his canines digging into his lip. 

“I have to tell you something, cariño.”

You had let out a watery laugh at that, half-heartedly joking that he was going to tell you that he wanted to break up. Miguel didn’t have the energy to fake his own laugh or smile, instead bending down to pick you up. His arms rested under your knees and back as he carried you to the comfort of your bed. His side was unusually cold despite him sleeping in it. Over the month, he was the last to get in and the first to get out. Now, he goes back to the usual routine. He lifts the covers to your side, placing you down before he scoots in besides you. Your arms instantly wrap around him again, a pleased sigh leaving you as his hand rubs up and down the length of your back. He had laid there silently, letting you enjoy the time and touch he selfishly took from you. His body felt lighter than it had in the past month as he held you to him. The smell of you entering his lungs and spreading peace throughout his bloodstream. He doesn’t know how long the two of you laid there before he started talking. Maybe it was 10 minutes, 30, possibly 60?

“Something happened at work a month ago. I… don’t want you to be scared of me.”

He had spoken the words so softly, he wondered if they were only audible to his sensitive ears. But you had turned to face him, an encouraging look in your eyes as you nodded. He had taken a deep breath, one of the many he would take during the conversation. In soft tones, he had recalled the accident. He recalled a neon chemical that caused his skin to burn if he didn't take it. How his thoughts were split between the next time he would get a dose and how to talk to you. His eyes grow distant as he looks back on the memory of a mistake, how the DNA had run through his veins so sharply that he felt like his nerve endings were tearing apart and being reshaped. He hesitantly showed you the new developments on his body, the way he barely talked because his sharpened teeth always catch on his lips, how he’s been so hesitant to touch you because he wasn’t sure if his new claws would retract, showed you the new swirls of red that danced in his brown eyes and glow with emotion. 

You had laid silent and Miguel was more than prepared to leave if you asked him to. He had a bag packed under the bed ever since he found out the extent of his now mixed DNA. He was prepared to leave at any sign of your endangerment or if you asked him to. He didn’t want to leave, never wanted to live a life without you, but if you had asked him to, he would. He would do anything for you. Even if it killed him. His life only revolved around you, and it still would if he left your apartment and never returned. Even if the roles were reversed and you were the one to end up leaving. 

Your soft hand along his cheek took his attention again, his eyes watching you as you studied him. You had gently pulled his lip back, watching the gleaming point of his fangs. He felt the warmth of your touch travel upwards, massaging the skin under his eyes as your other hand grabbed one of his hands. Miguel had choked on his breath when you pulled it from under the sheets, sharp points spiking from the pads of his fingers. He was about to protest when you brought them to your mouth, but watching in fascinated as they retracted one by one as you pressed kisses to his fingers. When you finished, you grabbed his other hand and did the same thing. He felt the sting in his eyes return and he had to close his eyes tightly to will himself to stop. 

“Tell me how to help you. Tell me how you want me to love you so it doesn’t feel like everything has changed.”

Your soft, heartfelt request tore through his heart and he couldn't stop the tear that ran down his cheek. He had held your hand to his face as you brushed away the tear off his face, turning his head to give it a small kiss. He didn’t deserve you. Not like this. Not when you were so caring and lovely and soft. He could never comprehend how lucky he got. How someone was kind enough to drop you amoungst the chaos of his life. Miguel had wrapped his body around your smaller frame, trying to embrace you fully as he felt the remainder of that heavy burden leave his body. 

“Love me the same. I just need you, only you.”

When you had agreed and just held him, Miguel felt his heart sing and the wickedness of his new life temporarily retract. He hadn’t lost you. 

Not yet.

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The cause of the last argument is muddy in his mind. It’s lost in all the other things that happened that night, his mind finding it irrelevant in the face of the bigger picture. He thinks it was something to do with him being Spiderman. Maybe it was, maybe it wasn’t. He’ll never really know. Maybe it’s better that way. 

All he knew was that the both of you were yelling. Knows he was wearing down the wooden floors with his pacing while you stood on the other side of the kitchen island. He knows that both of you were taking turns tugging at your hair, stressed laughs bubbling from each other's throats. He knew the fight was full of interrupted sentences and angered stuttering. He knows whatever the argument was about got you so angry that you stormed out of the house in a huff, grabbing your old coat and boots before slamming the door shut. 

Miguel had thrown his hands up in disbelief, shaking his head with a forced scoff. He nervously gnawed at his bottom lip, continuing to pace as he checked the time over the stove repeatedly. Once five minutes hit, enough time for you to hopefully calm down, Miguel rushed to the door and pulled on his own coat before rapidly locking the door and jogging down the hall to the elevator. He had spammed the down button repeatedly, ruffling his hair impatiently and glancing down at his digital watch every few seconds. When the elevator finally arrived, he had pushed past the person trying to exit, ignoring their grumbles while spamming the close door button after selecting the lobby. 

Once the doors opened again, Miguel rushed out and quickly scanned the lobby. It was practically empty except for a few people getting home late from work, making Miguel sigh as he went outside to the blistering cold. The cold air instantly turned his nose cold and he grumbled as he buried himself further into his coat. He watched people pass by him, subtly trying to smell for your scent. A deep sigh left him as he came up with nothing, looking down either side of the sidewalk. He couldn’t see you through the late night bustle, rolling his eyes as he started to fall into the flow of the crowd. 

A look of displeasure filled his face with each person who pushed past him, wanting nothing more than to find you quickly, apologize, and return to the warmth of your shared apartment. Maybe he’d make something warm for the both of you and cuddle on the couch, maybe exhaust any remaining energy under the new weighted blanket you bought. He smiled slightly at the thought, his hands flexing in his coat pockets as he looked down at the crowd to spot sight of you. A few times he was sure he found you, only to find the slight imperfections that told him it wasn’t actually you. He was about to turn around to see if you went the other way, when he smelled that familiar scent. His eyes lit up at the sight of your head, pushing through the crowd to get closer. 

Just as he was about to reach you, he heard it. A low grinding and creaking of metal  that was soon followed by screams and mass hysteria. Miguel quickly turned his head around, finding the familiar form of Venture following after him. A sharp curse left Miguel, his head turning to look for you to only find the pushing and shoving of the crowd. He had to bite his lip hard to prevent himself from yelling out your name, scared Venture would pick up his voice and put you in danger. With another curse, Miguel pushed through the crowd and into an empty alleyway. He took a deep breath, momentarily looking at the rush of people passing by for the sight of you. A sharp hiss left his mouth before his suit materialized. 

He quickly scaled the side of the building, hiding himself at the top of the rooftop. His eyes still scanned for you desperately, only to meet eyes with Venture. Curse after curse left Miguel’s mouth as the cyborg flew up to him at full speed. Miguel’s teeth clenched hard as he pushed himself off of the ledge of the building, meeting the robot fucker mid-way through the air. The two of them went spiraling to the ground, Venture’s back hitting an abandoned car in the middle of the street. The loud blaring of the alarm slightly disoriented Miguel enough for Venture to push him away, throwing him off the side. His shoulder takes the majority of the impact, a dull pain running up its length as different shoes rush past him. 

He isn’t given enough time to get up himself, a hand coming around his neck and throwing him towards a lamp post. A sharp breath leaves his mouth as the impact vibrates through his body. Miguel is temporarily paralyzed, spine throbbing. He pushes himself away just in time to miss Venture’s hard punch. The mental hand dents the spot that was once Miguel’s face, and Miguel runs into the robot’s side to throw him off balance. Miguel’s claws shred through Venture’s clothing, barely ripping through the reinforced metal of his torso. The two take turns swinging and dodging, tumbling on the floor until Miguel’s pinned down. The robotic hand squeezes tight around his neck, his hands coming up to claw at it. He manages to faintly kick Venture off of him, only to find himself flying into a building. 

Venture is quick to return to his attack on Miguel, his hand once again around the spider’s neck and dragging him up the length of the building. Miguel continues to struggle until the wall behind him disappears. He goes tumbling backwards, rolling on the landing of the clock tower. A deep groan leaves Miguel as Venture lands a few feet away, walking towards the hero. A deep noise vibrates in his throat as Miguel lunges at him, knocking him backwards. The two continue into a mess of fighting again, harsh hits, loose wires, and blood covering the area. During the tussle, Miguel is able to grab Venture’s weapon, kicking the cyborg away from him as he prepares to deliver his finishing hit. 

But, of course, things never go the hero’s way. Because he can hear the metal creaking of stairs and a smell is beginning to seep through his mask. He knows you are there before you even burst through the heavy metal door and call out his name. His eyes widen as he turns towards you, a new panic seizing his being before he’s pulled back into the present by the swooshing of air. He barely dodges as Venture flies towards him. Venture is quick to redirect, grabbing Miguel’s arm and flipping him onto his back. They both begin to wrestle for the weapon, Miguel trying to fight off Venture and yell at you to get away from here. But he can’t focus on the two of you at the same time. If he wants either of you to make it out alive, he has to focus on Venture. Not you. 

But he can’t help but curse you out in his head. Of course, the moment he doesn’t want to see you, you're here. Of course you’re in danger because of him. Of course you were fighting over Spiderman and now the two of you find yourself in this situation. Why couldn’t you have just followed the crowd? How did you even know he was there? Did you see Venture drag him up the tower? Did you really need to come up here to check on him? Did you have to care so damn much about him the same way he cares about you? Did you have to put yourself in danger for him? Why couldn’t you have just fucking stayed away? You were mad at him, that's what made you leave the safety of your apartment in the first place. Why. Didn’t. You. Stay. Away.

Maybe then it would have been different. Maybe then you could have changed the canon. 

It happened in a flash. It was like a flip book, separate scenes morphing together to create a rapid story. Miguel had pushed away Venture for the last time, the cyborg a mess of popping wires and torn metal. He was so hyper focused, so unaware of everything around him when he had lined up the weapon. He should have been more cautious, should have predicted the blast would be so powerful. But he didn’t. He didn’t make sure you had actually left, and he didn’t prepare himself for the blast. 

When he shot the weapon, a hot beam of energy shot out. It sent out a blind light, throwing Miguel back so strongly that he had to dig his nails against the floor to stop himself from falling off. When the power of the blast died down, in place of Venture was nothing but charred metal. A strong ringing filled Miguel’s ears, eyes squinting as he surveyed the area. The shot had cut through two of the beams holding up the clock tower, a low groaning sounding as parts of the ceiling began to cave in. All at once, it gave in, metal and concrete falling to the ground. 

And, like everything else today, he heard it before he saw it. He wished he didn’t. Wished he didn’t see or hear anything. Wished he didn’t instinctively look towards the noise and get his heart ripped to pieces. Wished he had other abilities, ones that weren’t so horribly useless in the face of your need. Wished his body didn’t have that slight pause before he had raced towards you. 

He had watched as a piece of metal flew towards you knocking you over the edge of the platform. It was only a second, maybe three, before he had desperately pushed himself off the ground and plunged off the edge. The air had stung his eyes, causing his eyes to water and for his breathing to stutter. It had to be the air. It couldn’t have been the way you had looked at him in the middle of your free fall, eyes calm and full of nothing but love and affection for him. It couldn’t have been the way you didn’t even reach your hand up to try to grab his outstretched one. It couldn’t have been the way he had thought in that very moment how he had wished he never fell in love. How he never regretted falling in love with you until you were slipping through his fingers. 

The noise you had made was deafening. It was so unbelievably loud that it made Miguel close his own eyes as his body instantly shifted so he landed on his feet a few meters from the ground. He had landed right next to your body, an ugly dark liquid covering over the pavement. He had his mask fall away, heavy and strained breaths leaving his chest as he fell to his knees. He hovered over you with wild eyes, not knowing what to do. Should he touch you? What if that hurt you more? What is he supposed to do? Someone please tell him what he’s supposed to do.

Hesitantly, he had reached his hands around your body, pulling your head to his shoulder as he rocked the both of you back and forth. He had ignored the sticky liquid covering his hand as it held the back of your head, shushing quietly in your ear as he repeated you’re okay over and over and over again. His head had pressed firmly against the side of yours, his breath coming out in white clouds as he tried to find warmth from your body. It had long gone cold, but his hands rubbed desperately over your arms to keep you warm. He had refused to pull away, ignoring the logical voice in his mind that had acknowledged during your fall that you wouldn’t be making it out alive.

He only forced himself away when the sound of sirens and ambulances grew near. He had shut his eyes, a wetness dripping down his face as he had squeezed you tightly to him. He let you back down in your original position with unstable breaths, apologies spilling his mouth as he slowly got up. As the first ambulance rounded the corner, a resounding chime filled the air. Miguel had turned, face looking up to the glowing clock that he had just fallen from. The clock had struck midnight and Miguel couldn’t hold back the rough sob as he hurried away from your body. 

Miguel hated that fucking clock.

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The apartment was cold when he entered it. Cold and quiet. 

Then it was hot and angry as he threw things. He ripped things off of the walls, threw glasses and dishes until they shattered to the floor and left dents. His claws had torn through furniture until the remains of his life were broken and unusable. He had let out heavy sobs and loud screams during the rampage, finding himself squeezed into a corner of the bedroom where he had piled your clothing around him. Your scent had calmed him slightly, but also broke him as the image of your body played over and over and over again in his head. 

He played with the velvet box he had kept in the bottom of his nightstand, tossing the box into the air before catching it and throwing it hard at the opposite wall. The force had broken the box in two, the useless ring rolling across the floor with a small clatter. He had sat there for a while before he desperately crawled to pick up the engagement ring. He held it close to his lips, mumbling sorry over and over into the cold band as he rocked himself back and forth in the pile of your belongings. 

He had lost you this time.

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It had been ten odd years since then. Ten odd years of frustration and sadness and waking up to nightmares that push him back into corners to mumble out sorry. On those nights, he gets the ring that sits useless next to an old bottle of perfume in his nightstand, forever unable to get rid of either of them. He holds both close to his chest until the sun comes up or until his crying makes him sleep. Then, he’ll tuck them back into their safe space, hiding them from the light until the next time he relives your death. 

A crumpled photo sits in his office at HQ, he finds himself looking at it from time to time in the long hours he works. Some of the younger spidermen, plus Peter, had asked him about it before. To all of which he had ignored and hidden the picture from their sight. He was selfish, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else, even after death. You were his. His to remember. His to mourn. His to miss. His, his, his. His to lose. His to love. His to repent for. 

He doesn’t think he would even be able to talk about you even if he tried. He could only find himself mumbling your name in dreams, in sleepy, delirious states. If he were to try now, he would choke on the syllables, mouth opening and closing before giving up and continuing on like nothing happened. Maybe it's better that way. This way he couldn’t tarnish your name more than he already has. Maybe this is his punishment. Maybe he deserves it. 

But in the late nights alone, he wishes someone would ask. When the sound of the clock tower rings over the whole city when he’s on night patrol, he wishes someone would come up to him and ask him about you. He wishes he had someone to carry your memory with, someone who will listen as he talks about beautiful you. Someone who can see how stunning you were. To see how unfair it was you didn’t get more from life. Someone to see how fucked up it was that the world stuck you with someone like him. Someone to confirm how the only real villain in the world was him. 

But he knows that person doesn’t exist. Not anymore. Because that person is always you in his mind. He sits on the edge of that fucking clock tower and imagines your wispy form next to him. Imagines conversations he would have with you and how you would respond. In his mind, he retells the way he had planned to propose to you, almost smiling at the make-believe dialogue of you nitpicking his plan. Then, the clock would strike and he would leave. Just like he did the night you died. 

But, he still wishes for that person. Had hoped with time it would be Jessica or Peter, maybe even LYLA if he got so desperate. But he can’t find the willpower to do it. So he imagines those conversations too. He imagines questions and how he would answer them. What was she like? Unlike anything in the whole multiverse. What did she want to do with her life? To leave the world better than when she found it. What did others think of her? Mistook her for the sun. Brightest, most beautiful person in the room. Definitely the one you go to on your baddest days. Do you still love her?

He tries to answer that question whenever he imagines it in his head. But he can’t. Yes? No? Maybe? It depends on the day? Did he love you when you were alive? Absolutely, there is no question in his mind. Did he love you when you were dead in his arms? Even up to the moment when he had to walk away. Does he love you now that you’re gone? That, he can’t answer. It pains him that his answer isn’t an immediate yes. He wants it to be yes. He really does. But he is so shrouded in hurt and pain and unfinished mourning that he can’t form a clear answer. Does he love that you’ve left him this heavy burden to carry? No. Does he love that he got the chance to love you enough to feel so strongly for you years after your death? He doesn’t know. It's horrible. It's a deep and ugly feeling that he wished he could rip out of his chest and bury it with you. 

And the worse part? If someone asked him if he would do it all over again, he wouldn't hesitate like he did with the former question. He has this answer lined-up and ready. Has it prepared on the tip of his tongue. His body practically itches for someone to ask him. 

If someone were to ask if he would do it all over again, if he would let it play out the same way knowing this is where he would end up, he would immediately say: No. I would have never looked at that damn clock.

And what's even worse? He knows the day that he's on that death bed, when he hears your voice and feels your touch, he'll finally give into that sharp pull on his chest and make his way home. And when he does, he'll fall to his knees and ask you to forgive him for lying.

Just like he did in every universe. Just like the canon predicted.

Almost a full month since I posted the first chapter. Was this worth the wait? Eh… Maybe? Going on to bigger and better things.

[holidayinhell]

Whumpay: Denied Medical Treatment

Ineffective Medical Care prompt :~)

Characters: punk/alcoholic Whumper, injured/in denial Whumpee CWs: dealing with a poorly performed amputation, denial of medical care, necrosis (ick), alcohol.

Whumpee clutched his hand tightly against his chest. It burned with an intensity he’d never felt before and the bandages were long overdue to be replaced; his entire forearm had swollen to nearly twice its normal size. A throbbing ache radiated from the inflamed flesh, a grim reminder of the wound beneath the soiled layers of fabric. 

Beads of sweat trickled down his face, partly from anxiety and partly from the fever that wracked his weakened body.

Whumpee heard a pair of boots clacking against the cement floor, getting louder and louder as they approached his cell.

The heavy door swung open.

A shiny metal flask ricocheted off the floor next to Whumpee, making him jump. The sharp clatter against the concrete gave him an immediate headache.

“Use this to disinfect it. I don’t have any more bandages so you're gonna have to figure that out,” voiced the tall, skinny silhouette from the doorway.

Whumpee blinked to focus his eyes through the wetness. He'd been crying for the better part of the day, and the fever made him disoriented.

“Will you look at it?” The captive said feverishly, desperately clutching his hand to his chest. His temples throbbed from the echo of the room and his hand was burning like hellfire beneath the bandages. “I don’t-- I can’t do it.”

“Nope. I’m over this.” Whumper yawned and rubbed his eyes, not showing an ounce of concern for his captive. Whumper didn't care if Whumpee was in pain. He felt nothing but pure fascination for Whumpee.

“You have whatcha need, man, now it’s time to shut the fuck up.” Hlanky figure swayed and leaned against the doorframe, clearly already drunk for the evening. The punk turned, dizzily reaching for the door handle to make his exit.

“Wait, please. I really need to go to the hospital.” Whumpee pled with the remainder of his energy. “God, it hurts. It hurts so much, so fucking much, and it’s.." he sniffled, "starting to smell, I think.” 

Hot tears rolled down Whumpee's cheeks. “If I don’t go to the doctor, I’m gonna.. I’ll....”

Die.

But he couldn’t say it. Saying it would make it real.

“Fine.” Whumper hissed, shuffling into the cell. “But you’ve gotta stop crying and screaming and shit. Seriously. I can’t hear anything upstairs and I don't really feel like tying you up."

Whumpee dying on him now would be a huge inconvenience. There was a burn ban in effect so he'd have to go the burial route, and he didn’t particularly feel like digging a massive fucking hole all weekend.

"… oh fuck, that does reek.” Whumper had been around more than his fair share of death, but he never got used to the smell.

“thank you...” Whumpee offered weakly as Whumper eased himself next to Whumpee, wobbling into a kneel.

He gripped the edge of the elastic fabric and unwrapped the multiple layers of bandages encasing his left hand. As Whumper unraveled the cocoon, each layer he revealed was more and more saturated with putrid bodily fluids. Both men gagged once the wrappings were fully removed, the rotten odor ten times more potent than before. The horrible rancid smell filled the small space, thick and suffocating.

Tears streamed down Whumpee’s cheeks, his breath hitched as he fought to stay silent. It was his body that smelled like death. His hand was decaying while it was still attached to him.

He’d been ignoring the wound for as long as he possibly could, naively wrapping new bandages over the old ones when they started to weep.

“That is fucking nasty.” Whumper’s jaw clenched in disgust as he pinched his pierced nose closed. “Sheeit.”

Whumpee steeled himself before looking down at his maimed hand for the first time. His finger stubs had become necrotic and were rotting away, the remaining flesh was blackened and shriveled and his entire hand was unnaturally pale.

He never could bear to look at the mutilated stubs after Whumper had amputated his fingers all those weeks ago, as if ignoring the injury would somehow make his fingers magically grow back. Looking down now, the memory of that horrific night was just as vivid as the moment it happened.

“I think the whole thing’s gonna have to come off.” Whumper quipped unsympathetically, reaching for the flask he’d thrown on the floor, and took a swig.

“There's no saving that. You'll go septic if we don’t chop it soon.” He said eyeing Whumpee's disgusting hand between sips. "Going septic means you die." He added.

His whole hand. Whumpee was going to lose his entire hand because he’d asked for water all those weeks ago…

“Just take me to the hospital…please. Take me to the hospital. I won’t say anything, I won't say anything about this, I won't say anything about you. I won’t say anything about this ever.” Whumpee begged softly but emphatically. “I'll even come back after... But I--I need a doctor.”

“Sorry Whumpee-boy. That ain’t happenin’.”

“I’ll die!” He urged.

“Hey, what’d I just fuckin’ say?! Quit. Screaming.”

“You’re going to let me die…” The captive’s eyes were wide and pleading, hopelessness beginning to set in. He screamed, “You did this to me! All I needed was water and you, you fucking killed me!”

“Easy now.” Whumper cautioned with a finger.

Whumpee couldn't be silenced. He shouted, “Did I really deserve th--?!”

Whumper grabbed Whumpee’s jaw and silenced him. He held Whumpee in a chokehold, the captive’s head snapped back as he was forced to meet Whumper’s gaze. 

“Keep going and see what I cut off next.”

The larger man shoved Whumpee’s face down. His chin crashed against the cement. Whumpee's vision went black for a moment, until something pressed against his mouth.

Whumper was forcing the metal flask between his lips.

“Drink it. All of it.”

Whumpee tried pulling away but Whumper grabbed the back of his neck and shoved the flask deeper into his mouth, tilting his head back.

The bitter liquid trickled down his throat. Whumpee’s nostrils burned from the alcohol, but he did as he was commanded and chugged the astringent liquor.

“See? I’m being nice. It’ll help you sleep.”

Whumpee removed his lips from the flask once he’d finished and glanced at his captor from under his heavy eyelids. Whumper was swaying drunkenly, the metal from his eyebrow ring flashing in the dim light. If only Whumpee had the same strength from before his captivity, he could have easily overpowered the drunk psychopath and made his escape.

“I need to go to the fucking hospital, you piece of shit.” Whumpee spat.

He never talked to his captor in such a way, ever.

The last time he’d asked for something it cost him three fingers, or maybe an entire hand, but he was too delusional to filter himself.

Whumper let out an amused chuckle at the sudden outburst.

Then, he sent the heel of his boot crashing into Whumpee’s jaw. 

The injured man let out a blood-curdling shriek.

Whumpee howled in agony, clutching at his aching cheek with his good hand as he shuffled into the far corner of the room. His cheek swelled with blood and dribbled down his lips, sending a river of red gushing down his chin.

“I’ll deal with you in the morning” Whumper warned, his voice low and menacing. “You’ll be sorry if I have to come down here again tonight.” 

He pulled the heavy door closed behind him.

Numbness slowly enveloped the blinding pain, carrying Whumpee to the brink of sleep. The alcohol that burned in his stomach was a welcome distraction to the foul smell emanating from his decaying fingers. And through some divine mercy, he drifted into a hazy realm between consciousness and oblivion…

[egirljuices]

Among them - Chapter 1

Daryl Dixon x Reader

Season 3 and onwards

Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: General Walking Dead warnings, mentions of SH, SA 

Word count: 3k

Author’s note: It’s been like 6 years since I last wrote a fanfic, please don’t mind how horrible it is. Just little scenarios I’ve had in my head, while at work or sewing. Decided to put them down for anyone else to enjoy. I plan to try and write a chapter every second Thursday, or every Thursday if I can. 

»»————————-　➴　————————-««

The sounds of the trees rustling were the only sound as she trudged through the forest, quietly, following behind a man. He looked clean, for the most part, and had weapons, and looked at least somewhat fed. She knew, in that world, it meant only one thing. Safety. If this was any other time, before the shit storm happened, she would have just introduced herself. However, the last time she put her guard down around another living human… It did not end well.

She ducked further behind the dead, seeing as the man tensed up and looked around, crossbow aiming in all directions he looked. She just needed to see where he was going, but he really didn’t seem interested in the small horde of 5 or 6 dead, including her. The dead weren’t interested in her, as she hid behind one of them, they kept snarling towards the man and following behind him at a snails pace.

He slung his bow behind in his shoulder as he noticed it was just walkers, he didn’t even want to bother wasting the bullet. The herd was so small, it wasn’t worth it. His eyes traced over the walkers as he kept moving, one of them seemed different, but it still looked pale and dirty. He couldn’t see it’s face very much with the hood pulled up, but it looked freshly turned. That didn’t bode well for the rest of the group.

He walked out of the dense forest to the cracked road, and pulled off some leaves from the ditch, underneath was his bike, which he promptly picked up and put it on the road. She knew he would usually bring his bike, and knew it was going to make following him to wherever camp was a lot harder. He turned back looking into the forest at the herd slowly making their way to him one last time, noticing the odd one seemed to quickly slump over instead of stand up straight when he did so. Shaking that thought from his hand, he took off on his bike.

She quickly started running towards the way his bike went, she’s been following him for a week now since she found him here hunting. Trying to figure out where he went back to all the time, scope out the place and decide if she was well enough to try and get in with the man’s group. She thought she must be closer, now, as usually she lost him before he even got on his bike, she didn’t even know he used one.

As the sun disappeared behind the horizon of trees and the air became crisp with the night, she finally stumbled upon it. Staying hidden in trees, she watched as she saw a huge concrete structure, surrounded by fences. There was no dead in the fences, just outside, banging on the metal to attract more, desperate to get in. She pulled out her binoculars from her bag, which she had hidden when the hunter came around and peered down to the yard of concrete. She couldn’t see anyone, surprised by them having no watchers. She noticed the tall tower on the left and averted her eyes to it. She saw a man and a woman sitting beside each other up there, smiling and talking to each other. She looked around the fences, looking for an opening and noticed the fence looked different in one spot, almost as if had been cut open before and stitched together with a different metal. Slipping the binoculars back in her back, she slung it over her shoulder and readied a hang on her throwing knives rested around her thigh. She didn’t plan to hurt anyone, but she wanted to get closer and make sure they were safe before making her presence aware.  

She laid a blanket down close to the tree line. She couldn’t hear them, but she could watch them. She watched them for a couple days, seeing a baby at some point, an old man missing part of his leg and a young boy. Upon seeing them she knew they must be good people. Bad people didn’t keep the weak or young around. On the third day, the day she decided she’d approach the hunter, or even walk right up to the metal gate they left from, she saw the hunter getting on his bike to head out. Perfect timing. She was planning on just flagging him down on the road as he sped by her. She heard the rumble of the motorcycle and stepped her combat boots on the concrete, putting her hands above her head to show she was unarmed. As the bike came into view, he slowed down, a pretty significant distance between them, hastily pulling out his crossbow and aiming it at her, slowly walking towards her.

“Whatcha want?” He had a deep raspy voice, with a southern drawl to it.

She lowered her arms slightly in front of her. “I just… I just need somewhere. I bring no harm.”

He took in her form, wearing black scuffed and dirty combat boots, ripped and dirty jeans with socks over the hem, a dirty black pull over hoodie with rips and tears. She had choppy [y/h/c] hair, looking like it was cut short with knife rather than scissors, stopping just above her shoulders and her [y/e/c] eyes looked desperately at him. She knew he wouldn’t hurt her. “Look like a walker.” He stated.

“I am one, that’s how I survived.” She spoke lowly, she knew he heard her, but he didn’t say anything about her statement.

“Ya ‘lone out ‘ere or wha’?” He looked behind her, to his right and left, but kept the crossbow centered on her frame.

She sighed. “Yeah.”

He lowered his crossbow slightly. “How many walkers ya kill?”

“None.” She stated, stiffening a bit.

“How ya manage to kill none and survive this long?” He asked, his voice laced with confusion and doubt. Was she lying to his face?

“It’s complicated.” She scrunched up her face, her nose wrinkling and shook her head.

“How many people ya kill?” He raised his crossbow a little more, glaring his deep blue eyes at her.

She choked, her eyes glossing with tears, which she quickly blinked back. “One.”

“Why?” He took a step closer to her, confused on the answers she gave.

“I couldn’t…. I didn’t… He deserved so much more….” Her voice was soft, cracking at points, changing in pitch and her body trembled.

He lowered his crossbow completely now, resting it at his side. “We got people. A group. Yer welcome to join us, but ya got to hand over yer weapons.” He approached her cautiously.

She looked down at her throwing knives, only the three hearts on the handle sticking out. She only had 2 within arms reach. The others were in her pack. She shook her head to him. “I can’t. All I got are the knives, and they mean more to me than my life.” Her face hardened and she clamped a palm over the knife holster on her thigh.

Seeing no real danger in a couple dinky throwing knives, he shrugged his shoulders and slung the crossbow over his shoulder. “’Ight. Get on the bike, drive ya back to my group.”

She relaxed and took a couple steps closer to him. “[y/n].”

He turned to her, tilting his head, his blue eyes locking on to her [y/e/c] ones. “Daryl.”

She nodded to him and walked behind him as he swung back on his bike, and nodded to her. She sat on behind him, unsure what to do with her hands. Normally, she knew she’d hold on to him, but she felt he wouldn’t like that.

“Yer gon’ fall off. ‘Old on.” He replied to her thoughts, his words sounding more like a grumble than talking.

She wrapped her arms around his midsection and rested her head on his back. She felt him stiffen underneath her, but he started the bike anyway.

The drive was nice, feeling the wind in her hair, feeling a warm body, alive, breathing. She felt comfortable. It didn’t take them long to get back to the gate, she noticed it was the young boy in a sheriff hat opening the gate for them as Daryl drove the bike into the yard.

She quickly hopped off, her boots hitting the gravel road and looked up to immediately have the kid pointing a gun towards her. She held up her hands quickly. “Whoa, kid, I’m not here to hurt anyone.”

Daryl kicked the stand on his bike up and turned to look at the young boy. “Carl, put it down, where’s ya dad?”

“He’s coming.” The boy, named Carl, motioned up with his head, keeping his eyes trained on the woman in front of him.

Daryl and her eyes moved to where the boy motioned, seeing a man in a beige button down, with the sleeves slightly rolled up, black pants and brown boots. He jogged up to Daryl and Carl as she kept her hands up.

“Who’s this, Daryl?” He asked, squinting his eyes due to the sun, and looking over at her.

“Don’t know. Found ‘er on the road. Says she alone.” He shrugged, answering the man.

The man turned to her, “How many walkers have you killed?” he asked, softly, not as harsh as Daryl had.

“None.” She answered at the same time as Daryl grumbled it.

The man looked confused. “How…. How many people have you killed?”

“One.”

“Wh-“ He started, but she knew what he was asking.

“Because I couldn’t see him like that.” She breathed out angrily, not wanting to keep bringing it up. Fresh tears stung her eyes again, but she bit them back.

The mans jaw hardened. He stepped towards her, holding out his hand. “Rick.”

“Y/N” She took his hand, shaking it weakly.

“We should get her to Hershel, make sure she’s not bit or hurt.” Rick turned to Daryl. “You comin’ with, or going out?”

“Curious to know how she survived this long.” He spoke, turning towards the concrete prison behind them.

Rick looked to her. “Follow us, don’t try anything stupid, we’ll put you down faster than you can plan anything.” He stated and started walking a bit ahead of her.

She noticed the young boy started following behind her, rifle still held against his body and giving her a cold glare.

As they walked into the prison, Rick held up his hand in the first room they entered. “Stay here.” He commanded.

She looked around, it was a concrete room with a couple round cafeteria tables and a cage room in the corner. She had never been in a prison before, and leaned on one side of her body. The adrenaline of meeting these people was wearing off, and the lack of food or water in her system was starting to leave it’s mark on her.

Daryl seemed to notice, his hard eyes looking down at her form as her eyes looked to droop some, and he noticed just how tired she had looked. “Ya can sit down.” He said, breaking the silence after Rick left.

She turned to him at her side and smiled up at him weakly. “Thanks.” She crossed the room to the tables and sat on the bench seat of it. Biting her lip and looking over at Daryl and the boy, Carl. Her leg began to shake up and down. A nervous habit she had shared with him.

Carl never seemed to take his eyes off her, looking like she had crossed him somehow, but she could see fear in his eyes. Daryl, meanwhile, looked anywhere but her. The minutes it took Rick to come out, with the hobbling old man she’s seen in the yard, felt like hours in the silence of the big concrete room. She knew there was more people here, but they were oddly quiet, and no where to be seen.

The old man limped over to her in his crutches and smiled softly down at her. “I’m Hershel, I have medical experience and I can look you over, if you’d like.”

She felt instant comfort in his presence and nodded slowly. “I’m fine, no pain anywhere, just haven’t eaten or had water in a while.”

Rick came up behind him, passing her a bottle of water. She eagerly drank from the bottle. Setting it down on the table once she drank over half of it.

“How’d you survive killing no walkers?” Rick asked her.

She pushed her lips together and started to play with the ring on her finger. What would he say? What would he do? She thought. She realized it be better to tell them the truth now, than lie to them and them find out later. “Please don’t shoot me.” She said, breaking the silence as she thought.

“Don’t do nothin’ stupid ‘n’ we won’t.” Daryl’s rough voice spoke up. He was now stopped a little behind Rick and staring down at her.

She clenched her teeth together, “I was bit.” She waited a second, seeing Daryl raise his crossbow at her head in the exact second the words exited her mouth.

Hershel leaned back on his crutches and Rick put his hand over his python on his hip. “When?” Rick asked.

She looked up at them now, meeting Rick’s eyes. “When this first thing started.” She stated, trying to keep her fear hidden.

Rick stepped closer, stepping in front of Hershel. “How?”

“Wha’ ya sayin’, woman!” Daryl’s voice was louder now, and he glared at her, his crossbow still raised to her head.

“I’ll show you. Let Hershel look at it.” She said, calmly, trying to calm their nerves. She lifted the hoodie over her head and rested it on her lap, using one of her hands to pull down the left side of her shirt. His lasting bite left between her neck and shoulder; a nasty scarred over wound.

Hershel stepped out from behind Rick and leaned closer to her, investigating the wound. “This is fully healed, Rick.” He stood straight again, and turned to Rick. “She’s not lying, it’s the truth.”

Rick looked at the wound on her shoulder, shaking his head. “How?” He repeated.

Her mouth went dry as she frantically looked between Hershel, Rick, Daryl and Carl, who had since lowered his rifle to his side in surprise. “I… I stayed with him. I was the reason…. I was the reason… He tried protecting me… I just…. I held… I held him.” She stuttered out slowly. Tears now freely flowing down her face. She snapped her eyes down to her hands, scrunched up in the hoodie, the ring shining up at her. Mocking her. She was the reason he was dead. It should’ve been her.

“Stop.” Surprisingly, Daryl’s raspy voice called out, he swung his crossbow behind his back. “Don’t gotta talk ‘bout it if ya don’t wanna.”

She felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up at the old man. “He’s right. We’re sorry, we just needed to know. You don’t have to tell us how it happened.” Hershel spoke softly to her.

Rick, however, looked at her sternly. “So, you didn’t change? You didn’t die?”

She quickly nodded her head. “They don’t want me, either. I can walk right in front of the Dead, they don’t care.” She wiped the tears from her face away and smirked, shaking her head. “Even at the end of the world, I’m not noticeable.”

The words she spoke struck a nerve in Daryl, he felt like his heart was stabbed into. Seeing that look of defeat on her face as she said it, hearing the words come from her mouth. He didn’t know why, but he didn’t want to hear her say it again. “Nah, ya gots the advantage.” He encouraged her.

Rick nodded to Daryl. “You can freely walk among them, you are safe.”

Her face hardened as she knew what they meant, but they never were truly alone. They seemed to have each other for at least a while now. “The dead don’t make good company.” She said bitterly.

Hershel pats her shoulder and looked to Rick. “Well, seeing as how she doesn’t seem to be a threat, no reason we can’t be good company.”

Rick took a deep breath and nodded. “You don’t hurt my people, you put in work, you can be part of us. But I won’t hesitate to put you down if you hurt anyone, or that infection starts to show.” His tone was serious.

“Understood.” She slipped the black hoodie, his hoodie, over her body again.

“Carl, show her to a cell. Daryl, Hershel and I are gonna talk.” Rick looked at the boy, who assumed was his son based on what Daryl said earlier.

He nodded and started walking towards a closed gate. She got up and quickly caught up to the boy.

She coughed. “Thanks for not shooting me, Carl.” She used his name instead of kid, wanting him to not hate her as much as he looked like he did.

He simply nodded and took her up the stairs, passing by a bottom row of cells. The upstairs had more. He walked her over to the last one, closest to a look out of sorts in the center. “I’m putting you near Daryl in case anything happens, just know he’ll be there to stop you.” He spoke sharply, turning on his heels and walking to the stairs.

She pushed open the cell and peaked inside, it had a bunk bed, with actual mattresses, at least, the bottom one did. It was small, dark and isolated from the rest of the cells downstairs that looked decorated and lived in. She put her backpack down in front of the bed and flopped down on it. The act of laying on a soft surface causing her back to ache.

She thought about the hunter, and how she followed him for weeks, and how he never seemed to notice her in the horde of dead she snuck through. She thought about how everyone seemed stand-offish to her, even the friendly old man who seemed nice, but she could see he was unsure of her. Playing with her ring, while her hands rested on her stomach, she closed her eyes, thinking of him. What he would do to gain their trust. Thinking of him, she didn’t even noticed, she had fallen asleep.

[borrelia]

Fleebay getting booboo on his knee this ask better not be censored

I got your previous ask so idk what got censored the first time?? what did you say. beepo getting horribly wounded die die die??? anway. thank you :) i wrote beepo hurt his knee a little bit ft. the oh sees

Fleet was beginning to suspect that wherever Sonic’s athleticism came from, it wasn’t just the shape of his body. 

Sonic could sprint from coast to coast as easy as breathing air.  He could balance on the head of a pin without wavering once.  He could stunt with a snowboard after five seconds downhill following another five of standing on the board for the first time. 

Fleet could fly—sometimes—and shoot lasers out of his eyes.  And.  That was about it.  Whatever quirk of skill and chaos energy made Sonic so agile and strong was not something in Fleet’s half of the bargain.

          Fleet was sure he could remember Sonic on a skateboard, rolling down the street so easy and relaxed, kicking the board up to jump off flowerboxes and grind over the backs of benches.  It had felt so easy, so natural!

          Wobbling now on top of a borrowed board, gripping the arm of its owner for support, Fleet felt none of that natural ease.

          “Are you sure you’ve done this before?” Bebe asked next to him.  Somehow she was able to keep him steady while herself wearing rollerskates.  And idly kicking one foot back and forth. 

          “Yes, I’m sure,” Fleet said, his eyes glued to a blackened smudge of old gum on the ground.  “I’m just a little rusty… I think.”

          Bebe scoffed and delicately pried his fingers from her arm.  His eyes snapped up to her expression of disbelief, still holding him steady with just her hand.  Fleet didn’t know a lot of birds, so seeing the way her quail beak could twist into a smirk was still a novelty.

          “You think?” She glanced down at the board that wobbled forward and back under Fleet’s unsteady stance.  “You know, you don’t have to lie, you can just say you’ve never skate before and you don’t know how to stay on a board and you need help learning and that’s fine.”

          Fleet got the sense that his scowl was only making this girl cockier.  True, he had only tried skating as himself about—roughly, generously—two times now, but he couldn’t stand the thought of starting at the bottom.  Maybe if the lessons put on by the skate shop weren’t populated by ten year olds, he’d feel a little more comfortable with the help.  Maybe if the other people here his age were in the class instead of casually speeding down the half-pipe and spinning their boards underneath them like it was nothing, he might be more eager to take his time.

          I bet Sonic would take the class. And be able to make friends.

          Well Fleet didn’t need to do things Sonic’s way.  He was sure he could tap into that once-shared athleticism, somehow, and be just as good—better than Sonic.  And make better friends who liked him more, even. 

          Which was why he’d decided to put himself out there and ask the bird girl and the capybara guy if he could borrow a board and skate with them.  Capybara guy was currently moving in easy circles, barely bothering to kick any momentum into the board, just gliding around the flatter parts of the park.  And bird girl was giving him a teasing look that lit a fire in his chest.

          “I’m not lying,” he said, pulling his hand from her grip.  He stayed perfectly still on the board.  Now moving was the hard part… “I’ve done it before, it’s just been a while.” 

          Bebe shrugged and pointed a thumb behind her shoulder.  “Okay.  Well while you learn how to board for the first time, I’m going to have some actual fun and show you how it’s done.” She winked as she slid backwards across the concrete.  With a kick of her heel, she turned and dropped into a low stance, cutting across the flattop to the other side of the small park. 

          Fleet glared after her and clenched his fist by his side.  He could do this. He had to be able to do something right and this was it.  There was a downward rail not too far from him.  This was what he could do.  He pushed forward with a foot and wobbled over the rolling board until it stopped again.  Okay.  He looked across the park at Bebe, sweeping up and around the bowl effortlessly, her skates roaring over the pavement.  He could do this.  He just had to tap into that athleticism…

          Fleet took a deep breath and tugged on that spark of chaos energy that always sat flickering in his chest.  He wouldn’t overdo it, just a little…

          Electricity skittered through his limbs, energizing his muscles and straightening his balance.  There it was. 

He focused on the rail ahead of him.  Breathe, you’re in control.  He opened and clenched his fists to calm their shaking.  This might have been a bad idea. Don’t think about that.  Just… go!

He pushed forward, a kick of power to his heel.  The board rumbled beneath him as it shot straight ahead.  He angled to the rail—yes, yes!—crouched, and sprung up with the board—. 

The—the board did not come with him.

The metal rail vibrated with a horrible clang against his knee as he crumpled over the top and he slammed into the ground.  Bits of rock stabbed into his palms and scraped over his arms, his vision dark and head heavy.  Dazed, he rolled over onto his back.  His leg hurt.  His hands and wrists hurt.  He could feel the massive bruise blooming across his right shoulder, and his brain felt like scrambled egg.  The hum of energy had dissipated, leaving only the throbbing pain of a screw-up.

Bebe’s board rolled away uselessly as the sound of rushing wheels grew louder behind him.

“Are you stupid?!” Bebe yelled at the same time her friend asked “Aw hell man, are you alright?”

Fleet turned his head back to look at them—Bebe stopped next to him and glaring down at him, her friend holding his board up a few feet away, regarding him cautiously.  He waved them away.

          “I… It looked worse than it felt.”  Fleet shifted and propped himself up on his elbows.  Everything hurt but…well, he couldn’t say he was used to it.  Normally, blasting out chaos energy didn’t leave him feeling all that sore.

          Hmmm, maybe…

          Bebe huffed and rolled over to her escaping skateboard.  She grumbled something that sounded snarky, but the sounds of her wheels and her friend shuffling toward Fleet covered up the details.

          “Hey,” the capybara said, holding out a hand, “you good?”

          Fleet regarded his gloved hand, not moving.  “Yes, sorry.  Just give me a second, please.” He didn’t need longer than that.  He grabbed that pilot light in his chest once more and teased out another thread of jittering, electric energy that spilled through his body from his ears to his fingertips with a fiery heat.  It wasn’t pleasant, but…

          “You sure?” he asked, pulling his hand back.

Fleet stretched a hand out in front of him.  The energy made him feel sick to his stomach and hyper-aware of the other teens—watching him patiently or grumbling and putting away her board—but the pain began to fade.  He felt fresh, new.

          Satisfied, he hopped to his feet and casually stretched.  “Yep!” He twisted side to side.  “Really, it looked worse than it was.”

          When he stopped fidgeting, the other teen gave him a wide smile.  “Hey, I like your attitude,” he said and clapped a heavy hand to Fleet’s shoulder.  “Don’t let a couple falls get you down.”  He pulled his hand back and offered a shake.  “I’m Dog.”

          Fleet tentatively took his hand.  “Dog?”

          “Yeah.”

          “Oh, okay.  I’m a hedgehog.  My name’s Fleet.”  He smiled.

          “Cool.  No offense Fleet, but you suck at skating.  Do you want me to show you how not to fall down?”

          The next morning, Fleet discovered the hard way that his chaos energy could only do so much to delay the pain of a dozen falls on hard concrete.

[drabbles-mc]

Let Me Take You Home

Horacio Carrillo x OFC

Gift for @beecastle​ as part of the Narcos Fanfiction Exchange 2022

Warnings: language, minor injuries, soft Carrillo feelings

Word Count: 4.1k

A/N: It’s been a hot minute since I let Carrillo have any nice things so here’s a little reprieve for him. 😂 Also, for the next few days all my fics posted on here are gonna be Narcos/Narcos: Mexico fics because I’m cross-posting from the exchange. So be ready for that. I’ve been in full Narcos mode the last few weeks with all of these lol

Narcos Taglist: @garbinge​ @thesandbeneathmytoes​ @bruxasolta​ @winchestershiresauce​ @sizzlingcloudmentality​ @alm0501​ @panagiasikelia​ @616wilsons​ @hauntedforsst​ @mirabee​ @buckybarneshairpullingkink​ @boomclapxox​ @nessamc​ @southotheborder​ @supersanelyromantic​ @padbrookcottage​ @mysun-n-stars​ @raincoffeeandfandoms​ @bport76​ @marrianena​ @ashlingnarcos​ @passionatewrites​​ (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, let me know!)

Javier’s voice rang in her head as she drove to the Carlos Holguín base, “He’s fine, promise. But I still think you should come and get him.”

She drummed her fingers on the steering wheel impatiently as she drove. Javier hadn’t sounded all that worried, and that was the only thing that provided her with any sort of reassurance. It wasn’t like Carrillo had ever been the type to reach out and ask her, or anyone, for any type of assistance, even when he probably should have. So she was thankful that at least his coworker, or perhaps friend was more fitting at this point, took matters into his own hands and called.

She’s never really been one to pay too close attention to the news. She tuned in enough to stay updated on the big things, but if she listened for too long she’d always get sad. So for a long time she stayed as detached as she reasonably could. But that all had started to change when she and Carrillo found themselves tangled up together. Now, the easiest way to know if things were going alright with him, was to watch the news. He wasn’t always able to call to provide any reassurance or updates, but the news stations seemed like they were always on top of what was going on with the Search Bloc, and the DEA agents that accompanied it.

The news hadn’t said anything about the raid that had gone on the night before, though. No news was good news, though. Or at least that's what she told herself so she didn't get too worried. If something had gone horribly wrong, someone would've reached out with the bad news by now. So instead of staring at the phone all day, she decided to keep herself busy.

Even with that being the case, the phone call from Javi was more than welcome. She hated how quickly she’d leapt to snatch the phone off the receiver when it rang, allowing it to interrupt her getting ready routine. The initial realization that it wasn’t Carrillo’s voice on the other end of the line put an instant knot in her stomach. But Javi’s reassurance kept her from spiraling out too far.

So now, here she was, parking on the street just outside of the base. Grabbing her purse off the passenger seat, she quickly strode up the walkway. She wasn’t going to run, trusting Javi’s assessment that it wasn’t an emergency, but her pace was more than just a leisurely stroll. She reached up to push her hair back out of her face out of nervous habit, only to realize that the long dark waves were tucked perfectly behind her ears, falling down her back out of the way. Instead, she picked at the strap of her purse as she got closer to the door.

The only thing that got her hands to still, was the sight of Javi on the front steps of the base, cigarette between his lips, hand cupped around the end as he tried to light it. He heard the clicking of her heels on the concrete and looked up, eyebrows lifting in recognition. He wondered if his phone call had interrupted her potential plans for the day, her long, floral sundress was bursting with warm colors and certainly didn’t seem like the kind of outfit she would show up in just to bring Carrillo back home. He finished lighting his cigarette before he addressed her, choosing not to comment on her nice outfit.

“That was fast.”

She laughed, raking her fingers back through her hair as she spoke, “Didn’t seem like something that should wait.”

He held the pack of cigarettes out to her. “This help?”

She shot him a look, but she did contemplate the offer. After a moment, she shook her head. “I just want to see him, Javi.”

“I told you he’s alright,” he said it with a light enough tone, but she still wasn’t convinced.

“I just don’t think,” she nodded in thanks as he opened the door of the base for her, allowing her to walk in in front of him, “that any of you can be trusted to know when something should be a concern or not. That’s all. Nothing personal.”

He smirked as he took the cigarette from his mouth. “Feels a little personal.”

“Where is he?” It wasn’t that she didn’t enjoy chatting with Javi, but given the circumstances, banter wasn’t really her priority.

He waved for her to follow him. “Base infirmary.”

Her eyes widened, “I thought you said—”

“He’s fine, Lina. They’re just checking him out, makin’ sure he doesn’t have a concussion.”

She sighed, having no choice but to accept what he was telling her, having to believe that he wasn’t underselling what was going on. “Yea, none of you can afford any head injuries at this point.”

Javi huffed out a laugh, exhaling smoke as he did, “Tough crowd.”

He stopped in front of the infirmary door. He knew that there was no reason for him to go in, and if anything he knew that Carrillo was going to be a little pissed that someone called his girlfriend, so there were plenty of reasons for Javi to head back to the bullpen.

He nodded towards the door. “Go get ‘em.”

She laughed, a knowing look on her face as she prodded him a little bit, “Don’t wanna take the heat for telling me to come down here?”

“Would you?”

She rolled her eyes, but smiled. “Thank you, Javi. I appreciate it.”

“No problem.” He gave her a smile and a nod before turning on his heel and heading back the way that they came.

One of the nurses heard the footsteps and was getting ready to ask who it was and who they were here to see out of habit. However, when she looked up and saw Lina standing there, recognition flooded her features immediately. She pointed in Carrillo’s direction as she reassured the woman that the colonel would be fine, that he just needed to take it easy for a couple days. It was much more reassuring to hear a medical professional saying it, no offense to Javier.

Carrillo was sitting on the infirmary bed, legs hanging off the side with his back to the door. Lina was thankful for the slight element of surprise. The clicking of her shoes against the tile was the only thing that was giving her away, but he wasn’t turning to face the sound. She wondered how hard he hit his head.

“What’d you do this time, Horacio?” there was a lightness to her voice to let him know that she wasn’t actually accusing him of anything.

He turned to look over his shoulder at her, but not too quickly. A few different emotions flashed across his face in rapid succession. He finally settled on confusion. “How did you…”

She walked over so that she was standing in front of him. “Javi called me. Said that maybe you shouldn’t be driving.”

Carrillo huffed, shaking his head slightly, “Fucking Peña.”

She chuckled, resting her hand on his knee. “Fucking Peña,” she mocked his tone playfully, “was just looking out for you.”

It got a small smile out of him and he put his hand over hers. “I’m fine, querida.”

“That would be much more convincing if we weren’t talking about this in an infirmary.” She studied his face a little closer as he looked up at her, “And also if you had a few less cuts, and bruises coming in.”

“I’m—”

“If I ask the nurse,” she cut him off, knowing his song and dance too well, “is she going to tell me that you most likely have a concussion?” His silence spoke volumes. She smiled, leaning in and softly kissing the side of his head. “Let me take you home, Horacio,” she murmured against his hair.

Despite all of his best efforts to stay stoic while he was on-base, there was something about the softness in her voice and the way that she was touching him that took away his resolve. He let his eyes shut, feeling himself relaxing as he gave in to her request.

“Gracias, querida.”

She pulled away, her smile brightening as she looked at him, finding relief in the act of him giving into her so easily. “Por supuesto.” The joking tone was back in her voice, “Want me to carry you?”

He gave a slight shake of his head, but she could still catch the tiny hint of a smile that was threatening to curl his lips as he stood. “I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

She chuckled to herself as she grabbed his sunglasses off the stand next to the bed. She knew better than to offer him a helping hand again. She rested the sunglasses on top of her head as the two of them walked to leave the infirmary. They stopped for Carrillo to slap his signatures on a few sheets of paperwork, but then they were good to go home.

They walked side by side down the hallway, not holding hands, but extremely close to it. With each stride her hand would brush against his and if they had been just about anywhere else, Carrillo would’ve caught her hand in his own. He was still trying to hold on to his last shred of professionalism though.

Lina could feel the way he was fighting the urge, though, and she didn’t try to stop herself from smiling at it. She was perfectly aware of how Carrillo had to carry himself at work. She understood it, tried to never give him any grief about it within reason. But she knew more than anyone that there was more to him than that. And she loved him for it, for both sides of him.

The two of them walked across the main floor of the base. All of the officers were shuffling around, and Lina was in awe of the organized chaos of it all. She didn’t stop by the base often, but whenever she did it was always busy. It truly was its own little ecosystem.

“Good,” Javi spoke up with a nod when he saw the two of them, “get him out of here.”

Lina laughed but Carrillo didn’t look nearly as amused. “Thank you for calling her, Agent Peña.”

Carrillo was being facetious, but Lina wasn’t as she said, “Appreciate it, Javi.”

“You got it. Hey, Lina,” he paused, waiting for her to make eye contact with him before tossing her Carrillo’s car keys, “don’t let him have these back.”

She chuckled as she caught the keys, immediately tucking them into her purse before Carrillo could try to snatch them away. “Thank you.”

Carrillo sighed, but he knew better than to try and argue with either of them. On a good day, he could win an argument against Javier, but it wasn’t a good day. And to win an argument against Lina he had to have everything on his side, and it was apparent to everyone who laid eyes on him that that wasn’t the case this time. So the two of them conspiring against him together certainly didn’t set him up to be winning much of anything besides being driven home and told to rest.

“You guys be safe too, though, yea?” she looked back and forth between Javier and Steve. Both of them nodded back in confirmation but didn’t say anything in response. She said a quick goodbye to them, Carrillo doing the same, although a bit begrudgingly, and then the two of them started to make their way out of the building.

They were walking down the main strip that led to the sidewalk when Carrillo spoke up again. “I could’ve driven myself home.”

She laughed, looping her arm through his as they stepped onto the sidewalk. “Should you have, though?”

He allowed himself a smile as he pulled open the passenger door, “Hm. Maybe not.”

He let out a sigh as he sat down, letting his head fall back against the headrest. Lina looked over at him for a moment, feeling a tiny pull at her heartstrings at the state of him, but also feeling grateful because she knew how much worse things could’ve gone. He was a little banged up, but it wasn’t the worst shape she’d ever seen him in, it wasn’t anywhere close to the worst-case scenario. He was a little scraped up, his brain a little rattled, but he was going to be fine. In a couple days it would be like none of it ever happened. Still, in that moment as she looked at the exhaustion on his face, the heaviness in his shoulders, she did feel bad.

She slid his sunglasses down, and if she hadn’t been so focused on the road she would’ve seen the amused look that Carrillo shot her way at the sight of her wearing them. It was a rough day, and he was exhausted, but he had never been too exhausted to not notice those types of things. Those were the little things that he had spent so long thinking he wouldn’t have with someone, but there she was, and she didn’t even realize it.

They were about halfway back to her apartment when he said, “Where were you going before Peña called you?”

She glanced over at him for a brief moment before returning her attention to the road. “What?”

He reached over, resting his hand on her thigh. “Your dress. You didn’t dress up to come to Carlos Holguín?”

She chuckled, “No, I didn’t. I was going to meet up with some friends for lunch,” she shook her head, “but I didn’t want to waste time changing.” She paused. “Why?”

His neutral expression shifted into a smile, “It’s nice. You’re beautiful.”

Her laugh was soft, “Thank you. But you can’t sweet-talk your way out of me making you rest. You know that, right?”

He chuckled, thumb tracing back and forth on her leg. “I know.”

She parked in the garage of her apartment complex. Pushing his sunglasses back up to the top of her head, the look she cast in Carrillo’s direction asked the question that she didn’t verbalize out loud. He shook his head, silently reassuring her that he didn’t need any help. She stepped out of the car and waited—he was moving a little slower but it wasn’t as though he was limping, and she took comfort in that.

He leaned against the wall, watching as she slipped the key into the lock of her door. She wasn’t looking at him, but she could still feel him watching her, and it still made her face warm even after so long. She shook her head slightly, but didn’t say anything to him about it.

Lina pushed the door open, tossing her purse off to the side as she walked into the apartment. She carefully set Carrillo’s sunglasses down next to it before slipping out of her shoes. Carrillo watched her go through the motions as he shut and locked the door behind them.

“I’ll grab you some clean clothes and a fresh towel,” her brain had already shifted into caretaking mode, the gears visibly turning in her eyes as she spoke. Her movements were fast, but they were comfortable, like she had done this time and time again. Because she had. “You should shower, really clean out those cuts. Then you can rest. I can make us something to eat.”

“Lina.” His voice was soft, and he gave it a few seconds before he repeated himself, a little louder this time, “Lina?”

She stopped just before she rounded the corner to the hall that led to her room and the bathroom. She raised her eyebrows, “Yea?”

“You don’t have to…” he paused, trying to make sure he picked the right words, “I’m alright. You don’t have to do anything.”

She smiled, leaning against the wall for a moment. “We take care of each other, Horacio. That’s what we do.” There was a brief pause before she continued, soft smile still on her face, “Now come on.”

He chuckled softly to himself as she went down the short hallway and out of sight. Crouching down, he unlaced his boots, leaving them beside her shoes before following her footsteps through the apartment. He walked into the bedroom to find her pawing through the drawer that had been reserved for him in her dresser for the last couple months. She plucked out the comfiest t-shirt and pants that she could find for him, making a mental note to stock up on more of those for him at some point down the road since he wouldn’t do it for himself.

“Here,” she handed the clothes over to him, “There are clean towels on the shelf in there.”

He tucked the clothes under his arm, nodding as he listened to what she was saying. “Thank you.”

She hummed in approval as she reached and gently cupped the side of his face. “Of course,” she leaned in, pressing a long, gentle kiss to his lips, “I love you.”

He rested his forehead against hers. “I love you too.”

Pulling away, she gave him a light nudge towards the door. He didn’t fight her on it, slowly making his way out of the room and into the bathroom. She lingered, waiting and listening until she heard the sound of the water running in the bathroom. Letting out a small sigh of relief, she stripped out of her dress and pulled on a comfortable pair of shorts and a tank top. Pulling her hair up into a ponytail, she made her way back out to the kitchen to get started on cooking.

Carrillo let the hot water scald him. He braced himself against the cold tile wall of her shower, letting the water beat down his shoulders and back. It stung his cuts, and didn’t feel great on the bruises that were beginning to bloom across his body either, but it was necessary. So he let it happen.

When he finally opened his eyes again, he figured it was time to actually shower. He chuckled as he looked at the collection of bottles that were on the corners and edges of her bathtub. Lina had more bottles in her bathroom than Carrillo had had in the last few years combined. He thought to himself for a moment that there was no way that all of them could’ve done things that were all that different. He scanned over the labels until he found one that was just claiming to be body wash. Good enough. If he smelled like flowers for the next day or so, then so be it. Lina was going to be the only one who would know anyhow.

The soap was another round of stinging in the litany of cuts and scrapes on him. None of them were that bad but it definitely brought his attention to ones that he hadn’t noticed before. Like paper cuts in inconvenient places, none of his injuries were life-threatening but they certainly were annoying.

He finished up his shower, getting dressed in the cloak of steam that shrouded the bathroom. He took the towel and wiped at the mirror that had completely fogged up, taking a moment to look at himself. Lina was right about the bruises coming in, marks he hadn’t seen because he hadn’t looked at himself until just now. They’d fade soon enough. They always did. The mirror began to fog up again so he pried himself away from it, hanging his towel on the back of the bathroom door before opening it up.

He made his way to her kitchen, and it never ceased to amaze him just how quickly she managed to make her kitchen smell like a restaurant in the best way. He watched her flit so easily around the small space, music coming in through the mild static of the radio. Spanish melodies flowed off the tip of her tongue quietly but with the same ease she seemed to have with everything else.

She hadn’t even looked at him head-on yet but she still said, “Feel better?”

He let out a sound that was somewhere between a hum and a laugh, “A bit.”

She put a lid on the pot that was sitting on the stove, wiping her hands on the dish towel that was draped over her shoulder. She walked over to him, her head at a slight tilt as she investigated, trying to make sure that he was telling the truth. The change of clothes did wonders, although the bruises were darker now than they had been at the base. She tried not to pay it too much mind as she gently rested her hands flat against his chest.

“You look a bit better.”

He chuckled. “That’s one good thing, then.”

She smiled at him as she reached up and carded her fingers through his still-damp hair. “I like you like this.”

He rested his hands on her hips, a smile threatening to curl the edges of his mouth. “Concussed and held captive in your apartment?”

She laughed, head tilting back slightly as she did. For Carrillo, the sound blotted out all of the chaos of the last twenty-four hours. She shook her head at him as she slid her hands up to rest on his shoulders.

“I like having you home,” she clarified.

He let out a hum of approval, tried not to let it show just how deep of a chord such a simple sentence struck with him. He had never been one to feel at home in places that weren’t really his. And even then, arguably, there were days when his house didn’t feel much like home either. But the fact that Lina considered her space to be his too—that meant something. He wasn’t even moved in but she still referred to it as home for the both of them. What would’ve made him want to turn tail and run if he heard it from anyone else, just made him wrap his arms tighter around her.

She melted into it for a moment, her fingers gently massaging small circles along the base of his neck, feeling the tension dissipate with each small, fluid motion. She turned, pressing a light kiss to his jaw as she breathed him in.

Pulling away, she kissed him briefly on the lips. “Let me finish this,” she gestured back towards the stove, “It won’t be long.” She peeled herself away from him, a smile on her face as she turned and stepped back towards the stove.

He sat down at the small table that was tucked off to the side of her kitchen. The couch would’ve been more comfortable, sure, but watching her was resting his mind more than lying on the couch would rest his body. Every now and then she’d look over at him and flash him a smile, able to look past whatever scrapes and injuries he came home with as long as she knew he’d be alright. It was a skill that Carrillo appreciated.

“Alright,” she spoke as she walked over, a bowl in each hand, “this might not have healing powers but,” she set one down in front of him, “it still tastes really good.”

She sat down across from him, letting out a sigh of relief. She hadn’t been pulling her hair out by any means, but she couldn’t deny how reassuring it was to have him sitting across the table from her. Even with the exhaustion in his eyes, there was still a small, genuine smile on his face. He listened as she cussed quietly under her breath as she stood up, muttering about forgetting drinks as she went and grabbed two glasses for water for each of them. He toyed idly with the spoon in his bowl as he watched her toss a few ice cubes into each glass.

She was watching the water pour from the faucet into the glass when she said, “Yes, Horacio?”

He chuckled, unable to do much else at the fact that she always knew. He shook his head at himself. “Nothing, querida.”

She walked back over, setting down their glasses before reaching and clasping his hand for a moment. “Gotta be more careful with your head,” she joked, “Any more injuries and your staring might start to become a real problem.”

“Hm,” he shook his head at her, “I’ll try to be more careful.”

“Please do.” She pulled her hand back and grabbed her spoon, still smiling at him. “I’d really appreciate it.”

[bsaka7]

how to start running as a easily winded person in their early twenties and not ruin they fuckin knees? im asking because you make running seem fun and i would like to try but im afraid of injury and like, inevitable, horrible running posture

hello!!! sorry to have taken a hot second on this!! first off thank u so much!!! i do genuinely love running and i think it is a lot of fun - it's my favorite way to be outside and i love accomplishing little tasks of which distance is one - and I'm really happy that it makes u like to try!!!

I've been a bit lucky - my only serious running injury has been IT band syndrome, which rarely bothers me anymore - but I also think (hopefully) that I am doing some things right! I will do my best to answer your question and also link to a few other resources at the end because I do only have my own experience to go off of. I started running in the sixth grade when I was eleven and I didn't realize I loved it until the first time I ran eight miles, when I was eighteen - it can take a little time! Hopefully this will be at least a little useful for you!!! Okay, under the cut!

Getting started running

My main advice is: running should suck as little as possible! Run consistently, and set things up to enjoy them as much as possible (run slow, run comfortable, and so on!). But here are some more concrete bullet points...

Set a reasonable goal (something to work towards). For me, this is usually a race - a 5k is a great starting point! It gives you a set time frame to run in, and something to celebrate at the end. There's usually a lot of 5ks throughout the summer and in my experience, they're not too expensive, so if something comes up in your training, you can always find another one - or just a fun one (I've always wanted to do a mud run. or one of those color runs?)! I also love accomplishing all the little goals within running - a mile down, ten minutes to go - and the big ones of races.

Accountability (workout log, a friend/running group to meet, someone to talk to about it, etc). I'm most likely to work out consistently on my own if there's someone else in my life also working out (whether running or lifting or something else) and I can feel like I need to stay on track to keep up with them. For me, this can be the hardest part!!!! I also use a training log (just a spreadsheet usually) when training for races. I use my watch to keep track of my mileage when I'm not training for anything - I just like to have that record. I'm at the moment a very solo runner, partially by preference (a long solo run is joy to me), partially by circumstance (I live in the middle of nowhere!), so I guess my methods are more attuned to that, but if you do have someone to run with, even occasionally, that is probably the No1 thing that serves as accountability - you're showing up together!

Be lenient on yourself but stay STICK TO IT. This is the biggest thing when you're just starting out. You have to find the balance of getting out and running regularly, but being kind to yourself. There are a lot of different methods here - there's the run/walk method which I've heard is great for building stamina (some people swear by it!), or running for a certain about of time instead of distance. My go-to recommendation is probably setting the days of the week you're going to run, and sticking to those days with a mileage goal but walking if you need to (being flexible about the distance if need be as well)! The important thing is that you're setting a routine that you can stick to, and that means making it suck as little as possible - and if you're in pain that's not just soreness, REST!!!! The threshold of sucking is up to you (some runs, your body will just feel bad, and that decreases with time), but if it's bad enough that it might mess with the routine, walk until you feel better, and so on. I'll be honest - the first several weeks of running can be rough. But once you start to build your base a little and things get easier, the moments of joy get easier and easier to find, and it's easier to keep to a routine. Just keep getting out there!

Do not worry about speed. This might just be me, but I do not care about speed on my daily runs. Most people (including me sometimes!) try to run way too fast, especially at first. Speed will come. You have to try and run slow and comfortable first - run easy!!! The general saying is if you can't hold at least a brief conversation while running... Slow down!

Take care of your body. You have to take care of yourself well to feel good running. The big ones are eating regular meals, drinking enough water, and resting when you need it. People make a big fuss about what it means to eat as a runner, but like. Intuitive eating. Run father, you're going to be hungrier. I often have a light snack before I run and always eat afterwards (of course this depends on when you're running - I usually run between work and dinner and I don't have a very sensitive stomach). Drinking water - I personally struggle with this one - but like, do what you gotta so you drink water (I do those like squeeze drink mixes and a lot of seltzer). Resting is big as well!!! Sleep, obv, but also taking proper rest days. It's a balance!

Find fun in the run! Can I be cheesier or what.... For me, fun is somewhere with green space - I LOVE rails-to-trails corridors especially. A familiar neighborhood is always good, or a neighborhood with fun houses or buildings to look at. I'm always trying to find little treats in my runs - this weekend, I saw goats! Birds are always a win. I also like trying new routes, or setting mini achievable goals like "sprint the last block to my house," things like that! Any run can be a great one.

Enjoy the process! Like I said at the top, running should suck as little as possible. I also genuinely like, love running. Even if you don't - which I think a lot of people don't - you can find little joys in it, even in just the accomplishment of having done a mile or two! Find the things that make you feel good :)

Injury and Posture

See the previous section but I'm not kidding: take care of your body!!!!!!! Eat, drink, sleep, etc!

Get real running shoes. Its an investment but there's a reason it's an industry. For me, getting the right shoes helped a lot with knee trouble in high school. Having comfortable shoes (for you - that could mean minimalist or maximalist) makes running more comfortable.... and that's what I swear by! if u don't believe me take it from my previously non-runner college friend who has been running lately:

Okay actually the best things to do to prevent injury are like exercises and strength training that build muscles like your hips, core, etc. Some ppl love yoga (not me!) and that can help prevent muscle imbalances as well. idk tbh i wouldn't worry about this too much at the beginning either because for me it's basically impossible to get myself to do any of this without a workout buddy. if you want to hear what I do sporadically, I'm happy to tell you, but also just like... Don't put too much on your plate at the beginning and don't worry about it (unless it would make u less worried to start with do them in which absolutely make it part of your routine!!!)

your body knows what it's doing. idk i like truly know nothing about posture - the three big pieces of advice I've gotten in my life are like 1) keep your arms at a 90-degree angle and like... Move them only forward and back, minimizing lateral motion 2) pretend you are holding a feather between your middle finger and thumb (this is to prevent clenching your fists) and 3) I have a tendency to hunch up my shoulders, so I always got told to relax my shoulders. Honestly, don't worry about it too much? There are a few articles about maintaining posture, but studies like this one show - your body will figure it out.

Pay attention to what your body is telling you. It can sometimes be hard to tell bad pain from soreness or otherwise random pain (I'm pretty sure everyone gets random occasional aches and pains). Basically, if something feels bad, take it easy - that can mean different things, like taking an extra off day or cross-training like bicycling or swimming. Sharp pain is usually bad. If there's a recurring niggling pain for say, two weeks, that's also cause for concern.

Stretching/foam rolling can be good. Okay I rarely stretch so I am NOT a good person to talk to about this but either dynamic stretches like high knees or static stretching can help prevent injury. This just depends on who you are and knowing your body - some people love it, some people (me) do not really do it....

Fluctuation in how you feel while running is normal. One week, I'll run a distance and it'll feel great. The next, it might feel like garbage. That's all part of the process.

Don't increase weekly mileage by more than 10% per week. I'm... Not great at following this one, but basically, once you start running, if you're running 15 miles, don't run more than 17 the next week, and so on. It's basically about making sure you are able to recover from the increased strain.

I've been lucky enough not to be super injury prone person so there are probably a few things I'm missing, but those are my broad strokes.

Other resources

I really like this New York Times piece on starting to run. They lay out a version of the run-walk method and talk about how to put together a training plan.

Runners World publishes a LOT of stuff I wouldn't recommend looking twice at but I generally like to look at their (free) running plans. For some reason, their UK running plans are free but the US ones cost money, so just add UK to your search. I'm not sure how their 5k training plan is (I personally prefer mileage over time) but I usually put together my training plans off their longer stuff.

For the US, I use runningintheusa to browse races, but I don't know about other places, sorry :(

Brendan Leonard is a ultramarathon-running internet cartoonist and funnyman and I really like his approach towards running. He's included in this Washington Post article about starting to run when you hate running. I think I was introduced to him this Outside mag interview. But mostly, he makes cartoons, some of which are lovely, like this one about the M trail (even I, who has done it, thinks he's a bit crazy for this) or.... well, here's some of his own favorites from 2020. They make me smile.

If you have any questions anon or want to chat about anything... as you can see I love to talk!!! I would be honored to hear about your journey :) Regardless, I had a lot of fun writing this and maybe went a little overboard!!!

If I remember anything else (and I'm sure I've forgotten something), I'll tack it on here, but this seems like enough! If anyone wants to add on, hit me!!

[kel-is-here]

Alright, so first off, when Eway4 had asked if you were okay and offered you a hug you went silent before telling them that you were fine and for them not to worry about you. Next, when idontmakestuff had told you it was okay to not be okay and that you were allowed to cry, you told them the same thing as Eway4. You told them you were fine, and that they didn't need to worry about you but then made a side comment saying, and I quote, "I'm fine... I've always been the one who's fine... I need to stay the one who's okay... To help the others! If I'm not okay... How will I help the others get better..?" End quote, next, in that very same thread, you also said "Besides... If I'm not okay... Then who will help them? If I show weakness... Then who will knock on Sunny's door until he comes out? Who will talk to Basil until he's comfortable opening up and less nervous? Who will stand by Aubrey even if she's (rightfully... I suppose) mad at us?" And "Sure, it can be a bit hard... But I want to help my friends. And if that means putting aside my struggles for theirs, them I think that's fine." Also, "That's the point! They don't know, and they won't know! Because I'm fine" despite you hinting that that's not the case in your previous response. You also said that you, and I quote, "Wouldn't wanna distract him with my silly issues" which indicates that you do in fact have issues you just think that they're lesser and/or unimportant compared to the issues of others. It also doesn't help that you said you didn't want him to be distracted worrying about his "stupid little brother" which, you're his little brother so you just called yourself stupid. Next of all, you have a horrible habit of avoiding things and questions. Several times you were asked or told something and every single time you either brushed it off, redirected it to another part of the topic or just avoided it all together. Also don't you dare think I forgot how you hadn't refuted anything I said about you. I asked if you were jealous of your brother and if you were sick of you getting compared to him and you redirected it, saying.thst you loved him without actually confirming nor refuting my question. When I said that I was going to compare you and your brother you made a side comment that you were atleast "Used to that by now." When I insulted you (the one where I'd told you were more useless than a 16 ton concrete parachute) you didn't refute ANY of that. You even said, and I quote, "I know all of that already. You don't need to tell me." I was going too far on purpose, saying things that weren't true and you had simply agreed with me. Saying that you knew that already is NOT a sign of good mental health, Kel.

-Death Anon

"..."

[dopepoisonivyoncrack]

We wouldn't exist without plants in more than 1 way, aside from an evolutionary stand-point. We wouldn't survive without plants that do so much for us every.fuckin.day and its taken for granted. From the air we breathe, to food, drinks, cleaning and cosmetic products, medicines, furniture and other objects and supplies, clothes, dyes, rubber, art, being base material or ingredient in more things than I can count, ornamentals that bring to life any landscape or room, improving our mental and emotional state, all the ecosystem services that literally keep our world together and without which we would literally all suffer and die (and we do suffer and many die when these services are affected by harming and destroying plants). This is not even an exhaustive list. And people can't even meet the bare minimum of consideration that these are alive beings and treat them with care.

They are alive, they move, they see, they feel, they communicate, they recognize and care for their kin, they learn, they can transmit the knowledge to the next generation (although I bet the new generations get more isolated and vulnerable not having old plants around them anymore) they hurt, they get sick, they get wounds that can get infected.

Yet people complain about being bothered by them. Treat them like annoyances, disposable objects. Mass deforestation without a single fuck given about the consequences. Daily cutting and mutilation of trees and vegetation in the most grotesque, incompetent, inconsiderate and, I can't stress this enough, unnecessary ways (for urban projects, laziness to not have leaves to clean up and what not). Its damaging, no matter what excuse they bring, its counterproductive.

Yes, some, species can grow new branches if cut. No, not all species can do that. I've seen fir and thuja horribly mutilated with their top cut. It will stay like that forever, hollow half-pyramid like. And it always comes at a cost, sometimes at the cost of its health and even life. The cut branch doesn't regenerate, it remains cut, it just gives branches in other parts... if some leaves or mix buds remain. The fresh cut is registered by the plant, they know its been cut. They can even alert nearby plants that someone is cutting, and they might be next. It is a stress factor for them. It leaves them vulnerable to microbial and fungus infections, parasites, to environmental factors like drought and extreme weather. Usually the factors act simultaneously. The regeneration requires them to consume their reserves that got accumulated throughout the previous year(s). If the frequency at which the tree is harmed exceeds its capacity to restore its supplies and feed itself, it dies. All the energy that was supposed to go on growing, blooming, making fruits, is now redirected to regeneration and healing and battling infections. (Think of a human getting a bad open wound, a limb cut off)

There is a time and precise way, sometimes species-specific, to cut OLD or UNHEALTHY branches, or to direct the way of the crown growth like some bonsai owners do. It's done with care and consideration and at least some basic knowledge for godsake. It can't be done any time, cutting like a blindfolded fool with a chainsaw.

I've seen in my town the audacity of calling the all-year round of trees topping (cutting whole branches or the whole crown) for urban regeneration. Some were cut down even in bloom, leaves and flowers and all. Cut in very unsightly way too, to the point the town looks desolating and depressing. In summer there is no shadow, or breeze, just suffocating heated concrete. Planting a few frail trees that might not even survive cannot make up for the damage. Cannot replace tall, old trees with big crowns and experience and strength build in decades. Did you know that what counts for the benefits offered by trees (air purification, oxygen,protection from heat, dust and pollution etc) is the leaf surface?! Less branches, less leaves, less services. And it severely diminishes the plant's capacity to restore the reserves it consumes for regeneration and all its functions. Also, asphalting every m2, or covering it with plastic and rocks means rain can't get in the ground. Not only it leads to flooded streets and houses, the trees and nearby vegetation can't get enough water. A few cm around the tree trunk doesn't allow enough water to sustain it.

They cut and harm trees and other plants every fuckin day, in more ways than I can count, and when trees get sick and fall at the first little storm, they get hysteric and cut even more.

We don't have forest curtains anymore so in the winter the snow and ice gets on the road, the wind feels stronger, more accidents happen. In summer, the heat is unbearable and the crops are not protected. When its not straight land, it leads more often to landslides.

Also plants in summer must be watered either early morning or late evening, when it cools down, not when the sun and heat is high, it just fucking steams them dead.

Honestly, I could go on all night. I've been going on for years along other scientists in conferences and more professional settings. For what? when most people can't find it in them to be the least bit considerate. To come on mf blr and see people joking at the sight of trees being cut in the most stupid, dangerous, illegal ways, and getting more worried about some lines, assumed to be power lines, that were not cut (there was only the risk of being cut) while the trees were massacred as a fact. My only worry about the lines was that if electric and cut, might start a fire, that, again, would burn the vegetation. Yes the people at the end of the cable MIGHT suffer some non-life-threatening inconveniences. The trees however were already suffering and no one care. God forbid I make a tag that I CARE and retreat for a few days so I wouldn't have to stand any more crap on a website I come for fun. Also people not liking plants, both irl and now online. Idc what motive for actively disliking or hating plants, its wrong. I hate you. I don't trust you. I wish all people that hate plants a very die.

[sarah-dipitous]

Hellsite Nostalgia Tour 2023 Day 280

Who We Are/Extremis

I’m being very optimistic that after the near three hour movie I’m seeing tonight, I’m gonna want to come home and watch Doctor Who, too. But!! A little optimism never killed anyone, right?

“Who We Are”

Plot Description: Sam and Dean must fall back on their undying trust for one another when they’re caught in a war between the British and American hunters

Would I Survive the First Five Minutes??: (before even starting I’m gonna say probably not, unless no one dies…and even then I’m uncertain) ok, see. It was just Mary getting her orders to kill a few hunters…so yes I’d survive these particular minutes, but I would not be long for this world

Honestly? Yeah, there should be SOMETHING inside that giant bunker that will help them get out…can’t they do astral projection again? To do the manual override that’s for some reason outside? When they did the whole ghost thing way back when, they did learn and get strong enough to move objects…

I’m sorry, WHAT?!?! Now, overlooking that virgin blood actually means blood that hasn’t been used before and not the blood of someone who’s never had sex, how exactly do you “revirginize” blood?? Just blood….I’m laughing so much rn

Safety…second, I guess. You didn’t think there’d be any concrete ricocheting off the wall you’re taking a pickax to??

They’re not GONE, boys. If you can get out, you can get Mary and Cas back

Is Dean gonna get to use the grenade launcher?? Is that what’s gonna get them out?? I love that for him

Like, I know he’s alive. Probably a little injured, finding it…he got outside. He overrode the lockdown ❤️ (I knew one of them would but it’s nice that it was Dean)

I hate the brainwashing Mary’s gone under. I hate that it’s making her turn her back on her boys and like REALLY cruelly. Knowing it’s not really her is not helping

So why isn’t Bevel dead?? Do you think she’s actually going to be any help to you?? She’s not Mick, she’s not going to be as easily turned to your side, not even with what Ketch did

I love Sam owning up to his mistake trusting the BMoL. And simultaneously using it as a way to rally the other hunters to fight against them

Dean believing in Sam’s ability to lead 🥹 actually, Dean having unwavering faith in Sam after everything they’ve been through. I love them

Why is it giving revolutionary war (at least as taught by the US school system) Why do the Brits have all the best tech and resources and the Americans have just a rag tag bunch with a lot of gumption? (It’s had this vibe the whole season, but now that we’re truly at war, it’s so in your face)

Fuck. I forgot Bevel has a kid…that makes it just a bit harder for Dean to actually kill her

It’s very weird to watch thirty something year old Dean look into a crib and whisper “Sam.” That baby is Sam, we are in Mary’s memories or Dean’s or some mix

The American hunters literally all have decades old cars they’re rolling up to the state of the art BMoL facility

It’s hard to blame Mary for wanting to stay in this memory of when Dean was four and Sam was an infant. She missed out on this. This was something she really wanted, and (though partly through her own actions) it was taken from her…that doesn’t make it hurt Dean less. It doesn’t make it hurt me less to hear this speech Jensen’s knocking out of the park.

This part’s getting too real for me. Sooooo I’m gonna go ahead and project this onto Dabiiiiiiiii. This is honestly what he should have gotten. I mean, he would have been more unhinged doing it but somewhere between this super emotional speech Dean’s giving Mary and the horrible ending (so far) that the Todoroki family plot line has gotten is what Dabi should have gotten. Hearing Dean say “I need you to look at me and really see me”?? It’s too much

GODDAMN KETCH ruins everything

I hope Mary wakes up and shoots Ketch

The raid on the BMoL base is also happening but it’s not as interesting to me. I’ll let you know if something cool happens, though

They pull the “character pulls a gun, gun is offscreen, gunshot, character who originally pulled the gun is actually shot” far too often

Yeah. Of course Mary shot Ketch. Shoot him again. YEAH, GIRL!!!

Don’t get fooled again, Sam. YEAH, BOY!!! He just righted the wrong of getting drawn in by the BMoL again. Sure, turning down info about Lucifer might not be THE best idea but he does now have more than he did

Mary and Dean’s heart to heart ❤️❤️❤️ and then Sam coming in at the end ❤️❤️���️

Oh. Also they like…BLEW UP the BMoL base. Like, Michael Bay style

“Extremis”

Plot Description: the pope urges the Doctor to read an ancient text—but can he handle the truth?

I deserve better. Yesterday we did capitalism in space and now we had to bring in catholicism???

Missyyyy!!! Ohhhhh!!!!!!!!! Is she in the vault? She was condemned to death but clearly…life, uh, found a way

Wait. Can he see with those damn sonic sunglasses?? I’m so mad they’re back, even if they make it make sense

It’s somehow weirder watching this as a former catholic than the last eight seasons of supernatural

That’s such a huge ask. Everyone who has read this document later killed themself, and now you’re asking the Doctor to???

Bill’s not out to her mom but is still bringing women home (she’s still looking for her own place/a place with roommates)? This is not a judgment on Bill, it’s just an interesting sort-of-complication for her. Does make it easier to bring someone home since her mom wouldn’t allow her to bring a man

Oh Bill, I’m so sorry the Doctor is crashing your date.

Oh my god. Oh my god. Oh my god. It seems Bill’s date is new to the realization she’s into women and Bill reassures her that it’s nothing to feel guilty about AND THEN THE POPE BARGES IN THE ROOM YELLING IN ITALIAN

Bill, I’m so sorry your date got ruined and you will likely never see Penny again

It’s strange to see religion play such a huge role in this episode. Yes there have been monks of something or other in the past but never ones that speak of souls…omg Nardole. So how…I mean, I know they’ll answer it, but how’re they gonna save Missy?

Nardole, I appreciate you, even if the Doctor doesn’t

I’m not complaining that Bill gets to join but why did she have to come?

I hate to see Missy beg for her life

The animosity but really just unfamiliarity between Bill and Nardole is a fun dynamic, yet I’m glad they’re getting time together on an adventure while the Doctor tries to do some reading

There is something very touching about the Doctor vowing to guard Missy’s body for 1000 years. I know it’s just practicality because time lord but still

The portal took Bill and Nardole to THE PENTAGON??? Omg and CERN. This is one terrifying portal. What alien needs the clearance for all those places????

Wtf wtf wtfffff what are those things that took the book from the Doctor and why are there explosives under the cafeteria tables at CERN???

(Why does this feel like it’s going to be a two parter?? Just doesn’t feel like it can wrap up in the time left)

Sorry. What?? So the portals aren’t actual portals. They’re just projectors. Showing a possible world

Nardole wasn’t real in this??? Cool. And the Oval Office. Why, for a British show, are so many of these places in the US? (Unfortunately I’m pretty sure of the answer, I just don’t want to say it)

He tinkered with whatever was supposed to kill Missy 🥹

Kay. So something is coming to try to conquer earth, something that has run many simulations on how to do it, but the Doctor’s solution starts with getting things as close to this latest simulation as possible??

[steamishot]

start of fall

i can’t believe this will be my third fall in NYC! and wow, we just passed my 2nd year anniversary here. 

matt officially started working as an attending at NYU. unsurprisingly, the adjustment has been challenging. i’m so happy that it seems the work culture is much better, this hospital is fully staffed and the employees are general happy, and his patients are more diverse (whites, asians, hispanics, and some blacks) vs like 90% blacks. contrast this to his previous under-staffed hospital where colleagues and patients are generally jaded/unhappy and argumentative. however, the work days are still very long, especially now that he has to commute ~30 min each way on a bike. the hours will be longer in the beginning, when he’s figuring everything out. these past three days, he’s stayed 30min-1 hour past his shift, so it turned into ~13 hour work days and 14 hours out of the house each day, and it’ll be for 7 days straight. he wakes up at 5:45am and gets home at about 8/8:30pm with red racoon eyes and tells me he’s so busy throughout the day he doesn’t have time to eat. 

since he’s gone like at least 90 hours of the week, i’m putting my housewife duties hat back on, but trying to be smarter about it this time. i finally bought more glassware to actually start meal prepping - for breakfast, and lunch/dinner. my mom is so domesticated and such a good cook that she would make every single meal fresh, and i subconsciously continued that method. then i asked myself, why am i making oatmeal for just today instead of at least 2-3 days? it’s basically the same amount of effort, or maybe even less being that i’ll have to clean the pot less frequently. and now that i’m trying to eat more for health rather than taste, the same question for lunch/dinner. it’s so easy to throw together a protein bowl and make a bunch at once. 

the long hours again made me sad initially. it’s like, here we go, back on the GRIND. and residency was horrible. however, the biggest difference is that he’ll have 7 days fully off (no exams, no free coverage) and he’ll be getting more than minimum wage for the work hours he puts in. the culture is also much better. i hope that the balance will work well for us - ample alone time and then ample together time. 

now that residency training is over, it’s my time to shine. what this specifically means? still figuring it out lol. my current job provides a decent salary and i’m able to coast. the work culture is great and so flexible that i don’t want to let go of it. however, i’m bored af and i need to come up with ways to continue growing in my career, if not find a side gig or something more meaningful to fill my days. my accounting class is on hold for this month and next, and i’ll restart it in november. i plan on completing the degree by april 2023. then, i can get a part time remote job in the accounting field and go from there. having a concrete plan like this help me keep things in perspective when the material gets tough. 

copilot: i’ve now been with copilot for 45 days! this lady has been making me use weights and equipment i would never have touched if not for her. although it seems that $100/mo is quite pricey for the virtual service, i think it might be worth it for me if i continue to see improvements and it helps me stay consistent. my weakness was the tricep extensions, and i remember struggling with this workout so much with even 8lb or 10lbs weights. now she’s having me use 20lb and i’m able to get through it!  

[yourheartonfire]

Oh my god, I just read that fic you wrote in white hero marries villian for protection. IT'S SO GOOD😳 if that's okay, could you please continue that in a part 3? Like if you don't mind..

Sure! For those just joining, here’s where you can find Marriage of Convenience Part 1 and Part 2

The hero slammed through the double doors of the safehouse's training gym, the smell of ozone snapping around them.

"Remember to stay calm, darling!" the villain called from where they were dangling from their wrists from the ceiling, and then wheezed as the vigilante punched them in the ribs again.

"Mentor!" the hero screamed. A moment later, the older super came pacing out of the shadows where they had been waiting, watching blank faced as the vigilante did their work.

"Hello, [Hero]," Mentor said, tucking their magazine under an arm. "I'm glad to see you're okay."

"I won't be for long if you don't explain what you think you are doing to my spouse," the hero snarled, and pointed to the vigilante. "And why you're working with that sadistic prick!" 

The vigilante gave the hero a cheerful, black-gloved wave. "Nice to see you too. I heard you got kidnapped?"

"I'm getting to the truth," the mentor said patiently, the voice of reason. "Of how you fell into the hands of this piece of garbage."

"I object, I am not garbage," the villain called out, rotating gently, "I am at the very least trash, if not refuse -" They cut off with a hiss as the vigilante casually scraped their knife down the villain's side, leaving another red line welling behind.

The hero's eyes went wide and black. Above them the bars of fluorescent lights blew out in a series of pops and sparks.

The villain flinched. So did the mentor. The vigilante, startled, grabbed for the villain -

"No! Hold!" the mentor said.

"Please don't provoke them," the villain said just as quickly. Some of the very real fear must have come through, because for the first time that day, the vigilante held their hit. They looked from the lights to the mentor sharply, but the mentor ignored them, focused on the hero.

"Let. Them. Down." the hero hissed, face shadowy in the red glow of the emergency lights.

"All right," Mentor said, holding out their hands. "Let's take a breath. I just want the truth."

The hero pressed their hand hard into their chest. "I explained," they said slowly. "In great detail. In my letter. What happens. If I use my powers again."

Vigilante blinked. "What happens if they use their powers again?" they muttered to villain.

"In a nutshell? [Hero] explodes. We all die," the villain stage-whispered back. "City goes boom too."

The vigilante drew back sharply towards the exit, eyes wide. "[Mentor]...?" they growled.

Mentor shook his head. "No. Bullshit. You're one of the best I ever trained. You just gave up? Without even coming to me for help?"

The hero drew back sharply. "Is... that what this about? I went to [Villain] and not to you?"

"[Hero], I could've helped you. I still can!" Mentor grabbed for the hero's hands. "We can find a solution, another fix."

The hero closed their eyes and hissed out a breath. "You don't believe me. After all... Fine. You want inside my head, let's get you-know-who to tell you I've not been coerced. That this is my choice." 

The villain cocked their head, but both the mentor and the vigilante clearly understood who the hero meant. "Now wait-" Mentor started.

"Get them," the vigilante snapped, halfway to the exit. Mentor glared and they glared right back. "This is already not what you said."

Mentor sighed but pulled out a phone.

"And let them down," the hero added to the vigilante. 

"Aw, you care?" the vigilante cooed, drawing their knife again. "I thought even you claimed this was just some marriage of conv-"

Around them there was a horrible squeal of metal and concrete. A few dozen screws snapped and clattered to the ground.

"[Vigilante]!" the mentor snapped in warning.

"Ooh scary," the vigilante muttered but backed hastily to the door.

"I'm fine, darling," the villain sang out through bloodied teeth. "You worry about you. Maybe your meditation?"

"I taught them that!" the mentor snapped, but hero was already folding their legs into position, closing their eyes. Mentor glared. The villain smiled and flipped them the bird.

They waited in awkward, interminable silence, until finally a small, nondescript person sauntered in to the heroes' safehouse. The newcomer took one glance at the hero, and in an instant their entire demeanor changed.

"Oh shit!" they said, backing away with alacrity. "Let [Villain] loose! Right now!"

Mentor grimaced in pain and resignation, but the vigilante didn't wait to be told twice. The chains slackened and the villain collapsed.

It wasn't the villain's first rodeo. They knew how to manage pain, how to hold onto your defiance. But this was, they realized as the hero rushed to them and they fell into their spouse's outstretched arms, their first time being rescued.

The hero staggered under their weight, but managed to get one of the villain's aching arms over their shoulders, managed to get them moving towards the door. Meanwhile the villain rocked under the absolute riptide of emotions that went through them, to feel those gentle hands smoothing down their back and the overwhelming rush of being safe.

"Oh," said the newcomer, head tilted, eyes dark as they watched the hero and villain stagger out. 

"I'll be here when you come to your senses," the mentor called. 

The hero paused in the doorway, turned to face down the senior hero. "This is why I went to them," they said, gesturing to villain. "I knew you wouldn't believe me. That you would never not see me as a problem to solve, as untapped power to be unlocked and put back in the field. No matter who you put in danger trying to unlock me."

Mentor folded their arms. "And you'd rather sell yourself off to evil?"

The hero shrugged. "You're the one who taught me how to read a situation and compromise."

They let the door bang shut on the good guys, and the hero and the villain limped together off into the night.

"You never told them I wasn't garbage," the villain said finally. "I hate to put my foot down, but I really feel we should socialize less with your friends."

"Oh shut up," the hero sighed, but a faint smile flickered past.

The villain let themselves relax into their spouse's shoulder. They'd worry about the heroes later. Right now they were here and this felt good.

[natewriteslol]

Hey! Could i request the dorm leaders with an esper MC? Kinda like Mob psycho or Saiki k :) and maybe they don't really use this ability of theirs that much since in their world they're literally a teen who's trying to live a normal life(like Mob basically), so nobody knew about their psychic powers except Grim since the mirror said that he couldnt sense any magic in them(i'm pretty sure that psychic powers don't really count as magic but idk lol).

Feel free to ignore if you don't wanna write it! :)

 A/N: Ooh this was a fun one! I haven't watched Mob Psycho (I know about that fine ass blonde man-) but I have watched Saiki k and I loved it, still need to finish it tho jlafljhdas 

Characters: Kalim Al-Asim, Riddle Rosehearts, Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit, Azul Ashengrotto, Idia Shroud, Malleus Draconia

P.S: I’m so sorry this is so long omg but I guess this is a strong comeback-

Warnings: none except for language

Riddle:

-You wanted to stay as far away as possible from him

-Riddle was part of the trio of people you wanted to stay away from: Riddle, Vil, and Azul

-Riddle paid so much attention to fine details that if something was up, he'd definitely notice it

-But unfortunately you were best friends with the two goobers of Heartslabyul: Ace and Deuce

-And Riddle had started to pay attention to you and your habits, and something was off with you

-It's almost as though you tried too hard to be normal, like Jamil

-And he could never let something like that happen again, so yes he was watching you

-One day you accidently slipped up and was irresponsible with your powers

-Grim was bothering you since he got into a deal with Azul for tuna and they were standing outside with the twins, since Grim lost

-You told him to fend for himself and teleported, however you didn’t plan where you would go

-And you teleported into the Heartslabyul dorm

-What sucks is that your teleportation power was literally flashy with a bright ass green light every time you popped in somewhere

-Just when you thought you were lucky since the whole dorm was uninhabited...except for Riddle who watched the whole thing

-He was completely shocked, he didn’t know what to say other than “What did you just do?!” 

-You explained to him, and that just pieced everything together

-How you solved overblots with such ease, and that one day you had a “strength potion to test for Azul” was such bs!

-Riddle ends up keeping your secret, since he values your privacy but if you do something major and mess up then he will tell!

-”I understand but please be more careful with your powers. I need to institute discipline and you are no exception, Y/N.”

-He really does care about you and doesn’t want you to be found out��

-Goes the extra mile to cover for you often, and in exchange you help him out with things :)

Leona:

-He didn't really care about you at first but as you started to hang Jack and Ruggie, Leona started to get more suspicious

-Your scent had proven that you had some trace of magic, but Leona just couldn't put his finger on it

-So he sent Ruggie after you for a couple of days

-If you were a threat to Savanaclaw, Leona would crush you

-But Ruggie had only reported back that everything with you was perfectly normal

-"Just give it up Leona, they're just an ordinary human. The scent is probably weird because they're from a completely different world."

-But Leona still had that feeling, so he was keeping an eye on you

-You had made a deal with Crowley to keep your powers secret to solve problems on campus (it did cut repair costs and handymen costs in half so-)

-Your new quest was to rid the forest of the Angolo fungus that was manifesting into living fungus blobs 

-The one thing that gave you away was Grim, as you both had to stop by the Greenhouse to read some info about the fungus

-The cat beast was being far too loud, not understanding why he had to go and mess around with the icky fungus

-You simply replied “It’ll be quick, I’ll just use Hydrokinesis and dry out the fungus since they’re mainly filled with water. They become fertilizer once dried so we can just leave them there.”

-And there Leona was, ears perked up once he heard your voice

-Hydrokinesis? What are you talking about?

-So he set off, following you to the forest

-You started to fly, turning the once green and lively fungus to brown dust while Grim napped against a tree

-Leona for the first time in the while, was left speechless

-Once you noticed him, you realized you had to talk to him

-Confronting him later on, luckily Leona didn’t spill to anyone 

-He promised to never tell anyone about what he saw, and had no clapbacks for what you had to say 

- Leona doesn’t even benefit from this secret...besides mayyybee one day asking for your help if his pride lets him

-By the Great Seven why does everything have to not be in his favor-

Azul:

-Another one who you have got to be careful around, since he’s incredibly observant

-More observant than Riddle

-Azul noticed that you’re an incredibly average person, and were incredibly relaxed even during the most stressful situations

-And almost every single time whenever you were in a tight spot, it works in your favor

-Just how is that possible? Solving overblots left and right? Every single time you disappeared the infestation of magical beasts are gone? 

-One day, you were getting picked on by a three guys, their stature far above yours and incredibly strong. How could you possibly win?

-Just as he was about to scoop in a save you, you slammed one of the men into the concrete, taking on the other two by electrocuting them, the blue lightning buzzing in your palms

-They were completely knocked out, dusting off your palms and picking up your things only to face Azul’s eyes

-After giving an explanation of what that was, he was still speechless

-Azul at first was incredibly shocked and then since Azul is Azul... later on realized this had benefits

-He could just blackmail you to be his new bodyguard!

-Oh how he always manages to bend life to his will-!

-So you could just wipe his memory... or turn him into stone...nvm

-You’re now Azul’s arch nemesis since you end up saving people from his scamming and you’re basically untouchable and there’s nothing he can do about it

-But he does find your great strength admirable (and a lil hot, I mean what can u say seeing someone floating in the air with electricity flowing through them is a nice look okay Nate shut up)

Kalim: 

-Oh Kalim my beloved

-He just thinks that you’re incredibly talented and a little mysterious

-You have your little quirks and he has his! Who is he to judge?

-Until one day you wanted to make the load lighter on Jamil, since the berries that Kalim had requested for were only in season in one country

-You decided to just teleport and then come back with the berries so Kalim wouldn’t be pouty 

-You were outside the door ready to teleport when last minute you felt a hand on your shoulder

- “Oh Y/N you forgot-!”

-And there both you and Kalim were, in a berry field thousands of miles away from the Scarabia dorm

-Kalim screams, falling to the lush green of the field

-What happened?! Where are we?! How did you do that?!

-You quickly gathered all the berries at light speed, making sure that you got back before Jamil realized that you were gone

-Kalim wasn’t scared of you, rather impressed that you were able to keep a secret for that long, he could never!

-You’re already super cool, and on top of this you have otherwordly powers!

- “It must’ve been stressful living your life like this! But don’t worry, I’ll keep your secret!”

-Yes he sometimes asks you to perform some of your powers for him, sorry Y/N-

Vil:

-While you were his friend, he was incredibly suspicious of you

-Even though you wiped everyone’s memory, he still had the faint memory of when he was in overblot mode of you blasting him with a beam of light

-Vil was incredibly upset as one of his assistants had mixed up his items, and left one of his vital skincare items on the set of where they were filming a new commercial

-It was being shipped and would take 3 days to reach NRC

-His mood was horrible and you had to do something about it to give grace to the Pomefiore dorm

-So you went to the second story of the Pomefiore dorm, ready to use Apport (the power to pull anything before you) 

-However, Vil felt incredibly guilty

-He was acting like a child and he shouldn’t have taken it out on the people who he loves and values

- “Y/N, how I was acting was incredibly inappropriate and- is that my moisturizer? How did you get it?”

-Starts freaking out as this was impossible as it was on it’s way from being shipped from another country

-This was the last straw for him ther was no justification for this that wasn't done by some form of magic

-He takes you to his room to make you sit down and give him an explanation for this

-Once you finished, Vil understood but was still freaked out

-He cares alot about keeping your powers a secret and will cover for you

-"So my aport powers need to exchange something of equal value so... I exchanged it with that Scucci purse over there-

-"MY LIMITED EDITION SCUCCI PURSE?!"

-He loves you, but you're dead to him, Y/N dear

Idia:

-Before he knew you, he didn't really notice anything off with you

-A little quiet sure but he minded his own business, he had bigger things to focus on

-Until you hung around Ignihyde more often for a project, fixing a huge generator by yourself for one of your partners for a project

-They took a break only after you told them that they could and apprehensive went to go get food and water

-Anyone with eyes could see that there's an overbearing amount of energy flowing through the fairly large sized cube

-Wait, you were wearing no gloves, you could get electrocuted! Why would have your bare hands on something like that?!

-Just as he was able to yell, it was too late, your whole body was flowing with the bright blue energy... and then you let go

-You were walking completely fine, you went and held a random wire on the ground, placing the electricity inside

-The static from your hair was gone, and you looked completely normal. . .

-Just what the hell are you?

-He did hours of research trying to figure you out, even sending Ortho to monitor you

-Yet there was nothing, you were just a “regular teen” 

-Was ready to get S.T.Y.X.S on your ass- (is that too soon to joke abt my bad overblot boys-)

-Until one day he caught you again bending electricity to your will

-Is incredibly impressed with your power (lowkey wanting to experiment on you)

-After he realizes that you can read minds Idia is so damn frightened

- “O-Okay I promise not to say anything, just don’t tell anyone what I’m thinking a-alright?!”

Malleus:

-You were one of the only people who he trusted

-Malleus had always detected some form of magical aura that was otherworldly from you and it never seemed to fade

-And it wasn’t often, but it was almost like you knew what he was thinking

-Whenever he was deeply upset he felt a twinge of energy from you, and then you would insist and help him out with his problems

-And he flat out says “Are you reading my mind, Y/N?”

-You had never been directly outed like this before, you felt horrible 

-You never read people’s minds unless it was very necessary

-whenever Malleus felt deeply gloomy you felt like it was important to just read his mind and help him with the problem

-You explained it to him and apologized, but he wasn’t upset

-In fact, he was smiling?

- “It seems like we have alot of things that we’re hiding from each other. But... you always had the best intentions whenever you used your abilities”

-He let out a sigh and reluctantly admitted, “And, I know that I’m quite stubborn with revealing my feelings.” 

- “I will keep your secret as long as you keep mine, Child of Man,” the dragon fae said, you both shaking on it

- “I always had a feeling that you were special, but I never thought it would be something of this caliber...”