#i would have a nice life not working forever. but i need infinite money for that. i dont have that.

[dog-girl-zezora]

The shit show of my life colliding with the shit show of a friends life makes the ultimate diarrhea circus

[shower-phantom-ideas]

Danny leaves Amity Park and Earth to commit to his rile as Ghost King

Ok I can’t lie to yall it’s one am and I wanted to write danny becomes ghost king and moves to the realms but misses school so asks William Lancer to skype call him during class so he can still be there. But I got very off track. Like I think I wrote a character study of jazz? I had to force myself to stop no joke. I could write this way forever but I think it’s kinda boring to read when I write in this style.

Anyway rambling here it is

Danny becomes the high King of the Infinite Realms and tries his hardest ti balance it all with his human life but it’s too much. He can’t keep up. His parents start putting more and more pressure on him. Plus their hatred if Phantom and ghosts has gone from a 10 to one hundred. Jazz thinks their obsessed, like their in love but with the idea of destroying Phantom. She no longer tries to give Danny a false hope of them accepting him as a halfa. Like he can’t see that. Every time she pulls him out if the kitchen, the living room, the lab. Hell every time Danny walks down the hall and one ih his parents join him, theres Jazz. As if summoned. Shes made it her mission to keep Danny from them and when she can’t she will do her best to make sure hes not alone with then. He thinks it’s a bit extreme and secretly is so glad for it. It’s like shes telling him his feelings are justified and that hes not crazy for being scared of his parents. That he doesn’t have to have the same fear of her. Shes on his side. Shes protecting him. And it’s nice. To be the one protected for once.

So they make a plan for him to leave. The Realms arent going ti give up or go away so he might as well go there. At least if hes nit running from his new responsibilities as Ghost King then they wont have to track him down and dump it in him once it’s piled up too much to be ignored. Hes already told Jazz hes not going ti pass up the crown. Imagine the good he can do as King. Plus hes promised that if he needs any help he will ask. So she helps him go. Their parents hardly notice when Danny disappeared from their house. Their obsession, their devotion, to Phantom has completely blinded them. Jazz is only staying because she is so close to finished here so wont have ti stay long. Less than a year and she can go off to any college she wants. Her grades are proof enough that she knows she wont tied to them and their money. She will be dependent of them and make a name for herself completely unrelated to them. These monsters who have taken her parents place.

She does wish she noticed sooner. Make she could have spared Danny so much pain and trauma had she just seen the signs. It was so clear to her now that this was their path. With every passing day she should have seen what they would become. But children love their parents regardless of goodness and she wanted to, no needed to believe they would do right by Danny. That no her parents wouldnt try to turn their son into a science experiment and strap him to a table and cut him open. She so craved and longed for a normal stable family. Something she no doubt learned doesn’t exist while studying physiology. She can’t blame herself. She knows it’s not her fault. She is still a child and still loved her parents. Even now as she makes plans to leave them and never come back to them. Even now she loves them. ‘Maybe im making a mistake’ ‘am I doing the right thing?’ The doubts pour into her mind. Then she sees them or talks to them and is once again reminded of why shes doing this. She has no doubts about if she can do it. She is smart and resourceful. She can easily make it on her own with a full ride to pretty much any collage. She would earn money as a tutor still and maybe even write articles online for cash, shes already got some offers, but that little voice in her mind still nags at her that they’re her parents and they love her. Maybe they used to but she knows they only care about one thing. Their “work” or their “science” in reality it’s their obsession. Ironic how they are like ghosts with their obsession controlling them. Unable to do anything else, think about anything else, until is fulfilled. If they just achieved their goal they would let up and maybe even return to their family. Minds no longer unable to sleep due to thoughts of their target. But Jazz could never let them. The price of her loving parents is the life of her sweet little brother. What a choice for a 17 year old to make. Have the family she was promised from all the media she had as a kid, showing familys of understanding and endless love. Or lose any hope of loving parents to help her little brother have his own loving family.

The choice was clear. She would sacrifice anything for him after all. If he asked her to give up her human life and join him in ruling the Realms she would have. Hell if he asked her to become a halfa she would have. This sweet boy whos willing to give up everything for everyone else deserves at least that. The hero who is not loved for his acts but despised, hated even, by those who he protects. A crueler fate even that his whole being obsessed with protecting them. Even if he wanted to give up on them he couldnt. She doesn’t even think hes capable of wanting to give up on protecting them. His ghost obsession keeps him from it. So she will give to the giver. He deserves just that.

~~~~

[delicioussshame]

Please donate to my campaign. My goal is to get friends for Shen Yuan.

Shen Yuan almost jumps out of his skin when he hears a knock on the door. No one had ever visited Luo Binghe since he came to stay here, and he had gotten the impression that it wasn’t that Luo Binghe had sent his usual visitors away for his guest’s sake. He does believe that his favorite student had been dreadfully lonely, these past few years.

How somehow as endearing as Luo Binghe ended up alone and friendless, Shen Yuan cannot fathom.  

Still, if someone is knocking on the door, the doorman must have let them in? It must be important then. Shen Yuan cannot imagine nobodies are allowed anywhere within this complex.

He thinks about texting Luo Binghe to ask, but what if he disturbs him? He must be busy, away at his important job while Shen Yuan does nothing but lazing around. And Luo Binghe did imply that he wouldn’t be ashamed of Shen Yuan’s presence no matter what, so… let’s test that, shall we?

Shen Yuan opens the door.

Shang Qinghua’s frazzled expression faces him.

Shen Yuan almost closes the door in his former colleague’s face.

“Wait, what, Shen Yuan?! Woah, I had no idea you went back to your parents, I thought you said that bridge had burned. Anyway, would love to catch up, but I’m on the clock and at the wrong place, sorry, gotta go or my boss is gonna kill me, bye!”

Shen Yuan stops Shang Qinghua by the shoulder to stop him from leaving. “If you were looking for Luo Binghe, not that I have any idea why you would be, you’re not at the wrong place.”

“Really? Why? How? Is there a story here? Cause it sure seems like there’s a story here. Tell me the story! But later, I have to deliver this?” He waves a boring manilla envelope like it’s supposed to make sense.

“Who still sends letters?”

Shang Qinghua shrugs. “My boss.”

“You’re a mail carrier now? Nice upgrade.”

“Well, I do what I have to do, I don’t live with the country’s most eligible bachelor. Seriously Bro, what happened here? Isn’t he a bit young for you?”

Shen Yuan is sure his blush is terribly incriminating, but he can’t help it.

“Wow. You have to tell me now.”

Shang Qinghua is acting terribly familiar for a guy Shen Yuan hasn’t seen since graduation. “Why should I?”

But Shang Qinghua has already let himself in, unceremoniously dropping the envelope on the nearest table and taking everything in with wide eyes before he lets himself fall on Luo Binghe’s designer couch without a care in the world. “C’mon. Fess up.”

“How about you? Why are you even here? For all I know you’re a thief trying to rob the place.”

Shang Qinghua snorts. “Not exactly my speed.” He shrugs. “Teaching didn’t pay the bills, got an administrative assistant job instead and somehow ended up working for one of Luo Binghe’s associates, hence the private delivery service. How about you? When I saw you earlier, I was sure you were retired and profiting off that sweet family money, but was I wrong? Or is this those Shen connections at work?”

Shen Yuan frowns. Why did he even tell this guy about his family again?

Oh yes, because he had been young, stupid and drunk: the university experience. “No. Luo Binghe is a former student of mine. I’m visiting.”

Shang Qinghua gives him the world’s judgiest look. “Visiting.”

Shen Yuan nods, face still as a lake. “Visiting.”

“While Luo Binghe isn’t there.”

Shen Yuan nods again. “It’s a long visit. I’m staying here right now.”

“At your former student’s house. Look, I’m just gonna say it: sleeping with your student is bad. Don’t do it! That way lies lawsuits!”

“Former student! And it’s not like that!” Technically correct. They haven’t slept together, not in the way Shang Qinghua implies they did. “He’s just lonely and a bit deluded. It’ll pass.”

Probably.

No, not even Shen Yuan believes it at this point. One can only be kissed so often before one has to face reality: Luo Binghe certainly thinks he cares about Shen Yuan more than a student should care about any teacher.

Shen Yuan just isn’t sure what he should do about it.

“If it’s not like that, which, Bro, you’re not making a good case for, you’re staying with him because…?”

“I’m on vacation?” Shen Yuan lies back on the cool leather. “It’s a nice place for it, and cheap.”

“And your “former student” was eager to host you. You, his high school teacher? Because from what my boss told me, Luo Binghe isn’t exactly famous for his openness. I’m half-certain Mobei-Jun sent me here as punishment. He wanted someone else to chew me up this time.”

Shen Yuan snorts. “Still very competent, I see.”

“Well, at least I was teaching my students, not offering “extra credits” if they stayed after class. And since when are you into men, anyway? You always acted like you didn’t notice when men hit on you.”

“Men never hit on me.”

It’s Shang Qinghua’s turn to laugh. “Glad to see that didn’t change. Luo Binghe must be something, to have managed to get through you. What did he tell you, that he wanted to bend you over the nearest desk? Anything less and you’d have been blind to it.”

For fuck’s sake can Shang Qinghua stop saying shit that embarrasses the hell out of Shen Yuan? It’d be very appreciated.

“Oh shit, he totally did! Go him! Did it work? Tell me it worked!”

“No! Can’t you shut up for once in your meaningless life!”

“Not gonna happen. I need to know more. He made a move, and you’re living with him now? His charisma must be something else. At that speed, when’s the wedding? No, wait, how long has this been going on? We haven’t seen each other in forever, you might have been “visiting” for three years as far as I know.”

This is torture. “Didn’t you say you had somewhere to be?”

Shang Qinghua waves his attempt at deflection away. “Forget it, this is way more interesting. Even Mobei-Jun will want in on this. Sooooo?”

Shen Yuan sighs. “I’ve only been here a few weeks. As I said, it’s just a vacation. I’ll leave once the school year starts again.”

“Why can’t you stay here anyway? That dear student of yours must want to keep you, right? Unless you’re really being bankrolled by your parents, this is way nicer than anything you could possibly afford.”

“No matter what he says, I’m not becoming Luo Binghe’s trophy wife.”

Shang Qinghua’s eyes widen. “Ooh, your student wanna be your daddy? He’s paying you to keep you around, is that it? Oh, that has to be it. Explains the weird evasiveness thing you’ve got going on. Never knew you had it in you. I’m impressed, really. Much better gig than my own. I wish my boss would pay me to lounge around on his expensive furniture. I’d be great at that. Plus, you know, it’s not like it’d be a hardship. Mobei-Jun is scorching. I’d be his arm candy any day. Maybe he’d be less likely to murder me that way.”

Shen Yuan longs desperately to return to the web novel he so cruelly abandoned to let his worst nightmare in. “I’d give you my job, but honestly Binghe deserves better.” Better than Shen Yuan, too. “At least you’re into men. Makes things easier.”

Shang Qinghua’s face falls. “Are you telling me you’re not into him? Like, at all? Why are you even here then? The money can’t be that good. Return to your parents and get them to arrange a marriage to a rich heiress. Same result, plus you’re attracted to your partner. Better?”

Shen Yuan flinches in horror. “No! Not better! My parents AND some spoiled brat who only cares about my name? Fuck no. Binghe is infinitely better than that!”

Shang Qinghua laughs. “So you do like him! Good for you! Go get him, tiger!”

“No! Well, yes I do, Binghe is very likable, but not like that!”

“Oh my god can you hear the shit that comes out of your mouth? Look, you obviously trust him enough to agree to be his live-in boy toy, and okay, I haven’t seen you in forever, but whatever you’re doing is visibly agreeing with you. What were you doing anyway? It’s not like Luo Binghe is here most of the day.”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “Catching up on my reading, mostly.”

Shang Qinghua chokes. “Fuck you. He’s paying you to read? While I’m still trying to get pay to write? I hate you with every single atom of my being.”

“Wait, you’re still writing? Please tell me you’ve upgraded genre, at least.”

“Well…”

“Oh god show me now so I can change your mind before you waste even more of your life on this trash,” says Shen Yuan like he hadn’t caved and spent Luo Binghe’s hard-earned money on extras for novels he hates.

___________________

Luo Binghe is caught completely off guard by the loud voices echoing in his home. Even with Laoshi here, silence is what usually he’s greeted with.

Today, Shen Yuan’s voice is alight with what sounds like righteous anger. He can’t quite place the second one.

Luo Binghe follows the call like a sailor freed from his bonds.

He finds Shen-laoshi half-draped over his chair, Mobei-Jun’s lackey sitting at the desk Luo Binghe had bought for his teacher alone, both of them apparently enraptured with an argument about… bad literature?

Luo Binghe wishes he could be pleased with the sight of Shen-laoshi being this animated, but he can’t. He’s not the one who caused it. This little, insignificant man did, to the point that neither of them noticed his approach.

Luo Binghe taps Shen Yuan’s shoulder. “Laoshi.”

Both of them turn toward him, but only Shen-laoshi gets Luo Binghe’s tongue down his throat.

He is very pleased with the outraged look on his teacher’s face. “Binghe! Not in front of the guest!”

The interloper jumps out of Laoshi’s chair. “Guest? What guest? There is no guest, no one here’s. In fact, I should have left hours ago, oh god Mobei-Jun is going to kill me. Shen Yuan, please give Luo Binghe the envelope, sorry for bothering you both, talk to you later, gotta go byyyye!”

Luo Binghe watches the little man flee in terror with satisfaction. Good riddance.

Let’s see him try to contest Luo Binghe’s claim now. “How does Laoshi know Mobei-Jun’s personal assistant?”

“We studied together in college.”

Luo Binghe pouts. How could an old friend of Shen-laoshi find him here? “Were you two close?”

Shen Yuan shrugs. “Not especially. Why do you ask?”

That can’t be true. They were so at ease around each other. It can take Luo Binghe hours to get Shen-laoshi this relaxed.

He stays silent.

Shen Yuan stares at him. “Binghe.”

“…Yes?”

“I realise this is going to sound ridiculous, and for that I’m sorry, but are you.., jealous? Of Shang Qinghua?”

Luo Binghe might be pouting harder. “No. Why would I be jealous of one of Shen-laoshi’s friends he never told me about.”

A (very cute) smile appears shows up on Shen Yuan’s face. “You. Luo Binghe. Are jealous of Shang Qinghua.”

He dares to laugh! It’s not funny!

This time, Luo Binghe is definitely pouting harder.

“Binghe. Binghe. You’re you. Shang Qinghua is… Shang Qinghua. What do you have to be jealous about? He’s just Shang Qinghua! Come back to your senses!”

Well, that does cheer Luo Binghe right up. “Shen-laoshi likes me better!”

Shen Yuan rolls his eyes. “Of course I do.”

Luo Binghe’s chest remains warm for the rest of the day.

[lady-divine-writes]

Kurtbastian - “Always and Forever”

Summary: After the death of their daughter Grace, Kurt and Sebastian drift apart. Kurt wraps himself up in his grief so tightly he starts to push Sebastian away, and Sebastian, feeling himself shoved aside when he needs Kurt most, cheats. They make the decision to start over, to leave New York City and their pain behind, and start over again in a house Upstate. Sebastian buys Kurt a "fixer upper" and gives him free reign. While redecorating the room that will be his studio, Kurt comes across something interesting underneath the wallpaper. It starts to become an obsession for Kurt - an obsession that begins to replace Kurt's love for his husband, which Sebastian is holding on to by a thread. Can Kurt and Sebastian break through the pain and the hurt and find a way to fall in love again?

Notes: Inspired by the Klaine advent drabble prompt "ache". So this is a story I started a while ago, but stopped after chapter 4 because it started to get a little too real. But I’ve started revising, and now I’m ready to finish it.

Chapter 1 (3197 words)

“God! That traffic was insane, wasn’t it?” Sebastian complains, pulling off the highway and onto the less congested road that leads to the heart of Manhasset.

Kurt mutters in agreement, but he barely noticed. His right temple has been glued to the passenger side window the entire trip. Eyes pointed skyward, he watched the clouds pass by as they drove, counted the trees, followed a flock of birds as they flew off to warmer climes far, far away.

Away from here, the way Kurt wishes he could.

“I called ahead to turn the gas on. And the electricity... ” Sebastian has been rambling about nothing for the whole hour and forty-five-minute drive, filling the tense air of the Navigator with verbal static. “We’re gonna want to air the place out for a few hours. The realtor told me it stinks like mold but that there isn’t any actual mold in the house. I hired two separate contractors to go through the place anyway and make sure. I wasn't going to take the guy's word for it. He struck me as a sandwich short of a picnic. I mean, you should have seen him, Kurt! He was wearing a purple paisley tie and brown loafers with a grey suit. And not like royal purple. That would have worked. But puce! Jesus Christ!” He chuckles. It bleeds into a nervous cough. “I didn’t say anything, but it would have been nice if you were there to give him some subtle pointers. Or not so subtle. You know how much I love seeing you in action. Oh, and we'll have to go over our insurance policy. I’m having a second independent appraiser… ”

“Are we there yet?” Kurt interrupts, preferring to focus on how the changing leaves mute the skyline than on a single word coming out of his husband’s mouth. Not that he could catch a one the way they’re sprinting off his tongue like lemmings off a cliff.

The trees soothe Kurt, smooth the rough edges of this bumpy ride. They grow differently out here than in the city: springing up in rows, displaying their fall colors, blending one into the other like an ever-changing river - red tree, yellow tree, brown tree, gold tree… 

Their daughter Grace would call out the colors on their long car rides Upstate, conjuring rhymes where there were none. They roll through his memory in her singsong voice.

Green tree… uh... lean tree!

Kurt smiles, clutching on to the sound of her voice.

He's terrified of the day he'll forget what her voice sounds like.

“Just… uh… just a few more blocks,” Sebastian replies, his attempt at chitchat cut short by his husband’s impatient tone. Despite his infinitely expressive voice, Kurt only uses three tones nowadays - angry, impatient, and indifferent. Sebastian hasn’t learned how to avoid any of them, but he hates Kurt’s indifferent tone the most. “Not too far.”

“Good. Because I’m tired of sitting in this stupid seat.” Kurt switches positions, massaging his hip for emphasis. 'Tired of sitting in this stupid seat.' That's what he said. But he meant, 'tired of being stuck in here with you.' 

And Sebastian knows it.

Sebastian turns down two streets that spiral together tighter and tighter until he and Kurt are locked in to their new neighborhood.

Locked in to their decision to move here.

“Here it is.” Sebastian pulls up to the curb at the point before the street turns into a cul-de-sac.

Kurt sits up slowly to accommodate his stiff spine and numb ass. Looking around, he sighs in frustration. “Here what is? There are five houses on this block. Which one is it?”

“Guess.” When Kurt sighs again, Sebastian says, “I’ll give you a hint – it’s one of these three,” and motions to the houses on Kurt’s right. Kurt rolls his eyes but turns to the houses closest. They all appear relatively identical – three floors with a pointed roof and a square porch, reminiscent of a gingerbread house. They probably have basements – a huge selling point in this vicinity. But they don’t call them basements Upstate. They call them cellars. Somehow, the word cellar is more refined, and therefore more acceptable than having a dull, run-of-the-mill, drafty basement.

Need that cellar so you can have the most expensive cabernet on the market on hand in case we need to drunkenly judge Sally Jones’s latest highlight fiasco.

“She should have gone with lowlights, Sharon. (sip) Haven’t I been saying that, Kayla? (sip) Haven’t I been saying that she should have stuck with lowlights? But only around her face. (sip) Ha-ha-ha-ha! Please, pass the brie.”

Kurt spent a good portion of his life living in a basement bedroom, so he’s not above the word. But he remembers a time back in high school when he thought that was the person he would grow up to be. He’d start out as one of the New York elite, then become an Upstate snob. When his kids (two of them – a boy and a girl) were grown and gone, he’d start an artists’ colony. He'd retire to a lighthouse, isolate himself in obscurity while being ironically jaded at the world.

Well, he's nearing forty, and he is jaded, but for entirely different reasons.

The house at the curve in the cul-de-sac is painted a sea green Kurt isn’t thrilled with. But that can be remedied with a bucket of paint and some elbow grease. From its position, it probably gets the bulk of the noon sun. 

There goes their electric bill. 

Kurt knows Sebastian doesn’t care about trivial things like finances, but just because they have the money to spend doesn’t mean they should shovel it out the window. Plus, there's their carbon footprint to think about. But more importantly, there goes his fair skin, which will freckle at every meal while he does nothing other than sit at the kitchen table.

No, thank you.

The house beside it is in a better position, slanted away from direct sunlight. But it’s painted a slate blue that comes across as too harsh considering the neighborhood’s neutral color scheme. Sebastian should know better than to see that house and say, “Yes. That’s it. That’s the one,” unless the inside looks like the Palace of Versailles.

The last house is also blue, but this blue borders on pale grey, a similar shade to his father’s house in Lima. A maple tree has grown through the pavement in front, shading the house and shedding its red-gold leaves all over the front yard. 

And this house has a porch swing. 

He and Sebastian used to talk about owning a home with a porch swing. It became a prerequisite for the home they wanted to retire in. Kurt pictured sitting on their swing side by side in the early mornings, sipping coffee and watching the sunrise.

Sebastian, on the other hand, talked about having sex on the thing and scaring the neighbors.

Same planet, different worlds.

“It’s this one,” Kurt guesses, gesturing to the blue-grey house. “The one with the swing. Isn’t it?”

“Don’t sound too excited,” Sebastian jokes but warily, afraid of what the fallout might be if Kurt doesn’t like it. Sebastian has been climbing a tenuous ladder to make his husband happy. One misstep and he'll plummet back to the bottom, with no certainty that Kurt will let him try to climb up again. It’s his own damn fault, Sebastian reminds himself as they get out of the vehicle. He did this to them, so he’ll let Kurt lash out, let him bare his teeth and his claws, let him dig in with both hands and rip.

Sebastian deserves it.

He leads Kurt up the walkway in silence, past the tree and the swing. He unlocks the front door and pushes it open, standing back so Kurt can be the first one over the threshold. Kurt takes his time, poking his head in first, then taking a hesitant step. This is an all-or-nothing moment for him. In his heart, once he walks inside, there's no turning back.

He sets his foot down, rests his weight on it, and a dozen memories come flooding back: the house he lived in with his mom and dad, the house he and his dad moved into when his dad remarried, the dorm rooms he suffered from high school to college.

The first night he spent in Sebastian's penthouse, the excitement of feeling like he'd found his true home.

The house he dreamed of raising Grace in. 

In the end, they stayed in the penthouse for convenience. He regrets not getting her an actual house with a yard and a swing.

Like this one.

The irony.

The room lists, Kurt's head swims, but he wraps his arms around himself and doesn't let it show. He focuses on the here and now. He's taken a step. He just needs to take another. And another. Keep going. Keep moving forward, or else he'll crumple to the ground.

And Sebastian will rush to catch him.

Kurt would rather bury himself under the porch.

Kurt breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, relies on a cold and detached demeanor to help him instead of the strong arms of his husband.

This house has a different feel from the open floor plan of the penthouse they've been living in since college. It's cramped around the corners, with a lot more shadows and a lot less noise. Sebastian likes that better. He’s an Ohio native, same as Kurt. But unlike Kurt, he considers himself a country boy. Even though Sebastian built his identity around becoming a state's attorney like his father, he loved the quiet life: wide-open spaces, blue skies, unhurried, and just plain normal. 

Kurt saw Ohio as a cage he couldn't wait to break free from.

Sebastian could have bought Kurt any house he wanted. In that vein, Sebastian feels like a heel for jumping on this one without consulting Kurt first. He reasoned that he'd been the one house hunting, not Kurt. So when a contact told him that the owner of this house, a house Sebastian had had his eye on for a while, was finally selling, it seemed too perfect, especially considering the timing.

Sebastian bent over backward to rescue it from escrow.

Kurt didn't want to leave the city, but it was full of too much pain for him to handle, too many memories, friends and acquaintances who had yet to hear the news, and those who constantly offered their condolences. Few people greeted him anymore without their smiles dropping and the words, “I’m so sorry,” coming out of their mouths, as if joy shouldn't exist around him anymore. 

It made his head, his heart, and his soul ache.

Kurt loved New York City, but there was nothing left for him there but the constant hollow thud he felt whenever he saw something that reminded him of their angel Grace. School would be starting soon. All of her friends will be moving on to the fifth grade. But his daughter...

Life ended for her too soon.

“Here.” Sebastian reaches for Kurt’s hand, but Kurt reflexively pulls it away, slipping his hands into his pockets to cover for his flinching from Sebastian’s touch. Sebastian should be used to it by now, but he isn’t. “Let me show you why I think you’re going to love this house.”

Sebastian jogs up the stairs to the next level. Kurt follows a few steps behind. When he reaches the top, he sees three doors. They pass the first two without mention. Sebastian opens the last.

“Here.” Sebastian crosses to the opposite side and throws open one of two windows, filling the musty space with the crisp bite of autumn. “I thought this room could be your new studio.”

Sebastian knows him too well. The room is perfect. Even at dusk, it’s flooded with natural light. It looks out over the rooftops of the other houses, giving him a view of the surrounding forests and orchards stretching way past the highway. With a little TLC, it could look just like his studio in their penthouse.

Or he can turn it into something new.

Start with a clean slate.

“What are the other two rooms?” Kurt asks offhandedly. He doesn't need to. 

He knows what the other rooms are. 

There are only two rooms they can be.

“A bathroom and the master bedroom,” Sebastian answers, watching his husband stroll across the floor.

“So this would have been… ?”

“A spare? A guest room?” Sebastian shifts his weight from foot to foot, unable to find an easy groove to stand in.

Kurt frowns. No. It would have been Grace’s bedroom if she were still with them. Kurt was trying to get his husband to acknowledge that. Cruelly. But if she were with them, Sebastian wouldn’t have cheated, their marriage wouldn’t be falling apart, and they wouldn’t be running away from their problems.

“I guess I could put a foldout bed in here,” Kurt throws out as he estimates the space.

“You can if that’s what you want,” Sebastian agrees. “Or you’re just saying that to hurt me, which, if you are, you’ll be happy to know, it’s working.”

“I’m not saying that to hurt you,” Kurt eloquently lies. “I’m being practical. I’m not going to have easy access to the Vogue workshop if I live two hours away. If I expect to get a new line started, I’m going to have to pull long hours.”

Sebastian scrutinizes his husband, who’s doing his best to avoid looking at him. “You’re… thinking of starting a new line? You didn’t mention that.”

Kurt shrugs. “Did I have to?”

“No. I mean, I wasn’t sure that you would go back to designing so soon after.” 

"After?" Kurt tilts his head inquisitively but still makes no eye contact.

"After... moving. There's going to be a lot to do here. I thought you'd give yourself a year. Maybe more." Sebastian answers so quickly, Kurt wonders if he'd practiced. They talk in code, this whole conversation a carefully choreographed tango through a labyrinth of knives.

Sebastian didn't mean after moving. He meant after the death of their daughter. Kurt practically spent every spare second he wasn’t designing for work designing with her. Kurt has been a designer since high school. Aside from music, it's his passion.

Sebastian feared Grace's death might sever those harp strings.

"I think you underestimate me. Besides, you’re considering going back to working in the city after… ” 

Pivot, walk walk, close.

The dance changes. They switch places, and Kurt leads.

Kurt isn't talking about them moving or Grace.

Kurt means after Sebastian cheated. 

Kurt only agreed to move out of the city and live in a house he's never seen to keep Sebastian away from the man he's convinced will become too big a temptation to resist the next time they get into any kind of argument. Granted, it took their daughter dying for Sebastian to cheat, but Kurt figures it’ll keep getting easier from now on to come up with an excuse. 

Can't agree on where to go for dinner? Have a huge blowout over which cards to send out for Christmas? That's it! I'm sticking my dick in someone else!

“Anyway, I wouldn’t want to wake you by crawling into bed at four in the morning, not when you have to be at work at six,” Kurt finishes when he’s let that dig soak in long enough.

“I’m not going back to work for a while, remember? That’s what a leave of absence is. And even if I was, why would I mind you waking me?” Sebastian risks a grin. “In fact, I was thinking that it might be nice to get back to what we used to do in the mornings before work. I miss that.”

Sebastian holds his breath while he sees how that remark lands. He waits for Kurt to look at him. Kurt hasn’t been able to look at him, really look at him, since hungover Sebastian came home in a taxi the morning after, clothes ruined, their marriage officially in the gutter. Grace passed away six months ago, which means he’s been waiting for a while. 

He’s still waiting. 

“This isn’t all about you,” Kurt reminds him, raising his eyes to the ceiling.

Kurt didn't yell. But that doesn't mean he's not furious.

“I know,” Sebastian says softly. He rubs his cold hands together, wishing he could stick them underneath his husband’s thick, button-down sweater, and press his palms against Kurt’s skin. A year ago, Kurt would have squealed, “Bas! Your hands are freezing!” But he would have wrapped his arms around himself and held on, would have let Sebastian lean in for a kiss, would have fallen for the line, “Now that my hands are warm, maybe you can help me warm up a few other things.”

Then they would have made love on the wood floor with the door open.

If only he could make Kurt laugh the way he used to.

Then maybe Kurt would love him again.

But going by his husband’s expression, dreary as the olive sweater he holds closed with one hand at the neck, Sebastian knows that now is not the time.

“Is this what you need to make you happy?” he asks. If only it were that simple. If only a house, or a car, or a vacation could turn back the clock and erase everything that happened.

Erase everything Sebastian did, and bring their daughter back.

Kurt doesn't answer right away. He's not purposefully keeping Sebastian in suspense. He couldn't care less what's going on in Sebastian's head. This is his future he's considering. 

He's going to take his time.

He circles the room, contemplating the echo of his footsteps on the roughly finished wood, debating whether or not it's a sound he wants to hear for the rest of his life. If not, is it worth putting in the time to fix it? 

He traces the path of sunlight as it travels across the wall. That brings a new detail to his eye - a torn corner of wallpaper above the open window revealing a word underneath.

Darling.

Kurt eyes it from a distance, tries not to pay too much attention to it in case Sebastian is behind it. It doesn’t look like it was written recently. It's more than likely part of the pattern underneath. But leave it to Sebastian to try to woo his husband back with something syrupy like that. 

Something hopelessly romantic.

Something he thinks Kurt will fall for.

“No,” Kurt answers honestly, re-examining the fading wallpaper, the scuffed floors, the peeling ceiling. His gaze glances his husband’s face and settles on the dust-streaked window. He stares out at the sky, the clouds, the trees, the birds flying wild and free. He’s never going to be able to fly away like that, so he might as well accept this cage he's been given. It's what he's supposed to do, after all. “But it’s worth a try.”

He has little else left to lose.

[trillian-anders]

chambers - xx

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: violence, angst, slow burn

word count: 2.8k

description: post-endgame. Steve Rogers has passed away from old age. The one remarkable thing is that no one knew his heart would be in the condition it was. He was able to save one more life. After receiving his heart, strange things start happening. Including something that would change your life forever. (Inspired by the Netflix series of the same name.)

note: thank you guys so much for being with me for this series, the first one i’ve posted. the first chapter sat half written in my drafts for almost a year before i decided to finish it and post and i’m very happy that i did. thank you so much for reading and i hope to see you on the next one!

if you have any questions about the series always feel free to message me.

xx 

Their names are Allan and Rosa. Your parents who were born, raised, and still live in Philadelphia. Your Mom always in a pair of scrubs and hair in a messy bun before messy buns were even a thing. Your Dad wore glasses and had a fully grey beard, his hair almost fully grey now with age. They taught you how to ride a bike, even though your Mom had been terrified. You remembered your Dad holding the bars over your shoulders and helping you down the street, your little heart beating so fast with excitement.

They taught you to read and write, cuddled under your Mom’s arm as she read you whatever you wanted her to read, pretty covers of books you couldn’t quite understand. Tales of dragons and elves, princesses and epic battles, books on romance. She’d read to you every day. In the hospital unconscious or in your childhood bedroom.

As you grew older and your health problems began to escalate. First heart, then the second. You started enjoying those little things more.

Sudoku with your Dad while he sat next to your hospital bed. Your Mom had a spin with needlepoint that the two of you attempted and your crude flowers sat framed in the living room to this day.

They were always there, all your band recitals, even though you were terrible at the violin. At every science fair. At every school function. They always showed up.

“You were our gift from God.” Your Mother had told you. “We knew you were meant to be ours the second we laid our eyes on you.”

They’d never been able to have children. That’s what they told you and Bucky when you’d gone to see them. They desperately wanted a child, and when they heard about you. How sickly you were. Their hearts broke.

“We thought we’d only have you for a short period of time.” Your Dad was emotional, dabbing his eyes. “We were fortunate enough to have you survive.” No one had wanted you. Not when they thought you were going to die.

“You were a frail thing.” Your Mother said, “You looked like you were at deaths door, but when I first saw you and you grabbed my hand so tightly… We knew you were a fighter. And we wanted to fight with you.” And they did. Every step of the way.

Every surgery.

Every new hope.

Every failure.

It was theirs too.

Not just yours.

And when you were a kid you resented them for it. They didn’t understand that you didn’t want to go outside. They didn’t understand that you didn’t want to get out of bed. You grumbled and groaned as your Mom rolled you out into the sun. The wheelchair after your surgery, she painted it a bunch of different colors and sat you in it in the back yard. The sun poking through the trees and warming your skin while she gardened, and you acted like it didn’t help.

They were always so unwaveringly optimistic. This next surgery would be the one that cures everything. This next surgery will be the one that sticks.

It wasn’t easy explaining them the situation. With Steve, Zemo. All of it and at the time, the less they knew the better. But it didn’t stop them from worrying. So it made sense that when it was all over, you spent a little time at home. A nice little break from the stress of the constant running. The looking over your shoulder.

You’d waited until your bruised face healed, until you were cleared by Bruce. Then you went home.

Your Mother cried when she saw you, Dad hadn’t gotten home from work yet. She gripped your cheeks and lay kisses on your face, pulling you into a tight hug before leading you inside.

The three of you ordered pizza from your favorite place. Cheese fries and soda. You talked to them about your biological parents. Who they were. What just happened to you. But trying to explain time travel seemed a little difficult.

“So… there’s more than one… universe?” Your Dad, trying to put the pieces together.

“Yes, but they’re all interconnected. Like… every decision is a fork in the road, so choosing ‘yes’ leads you down one path while choosing ‘no’ leads you down another and it infinitely splits off from there.” He nods before shaking his head.

“How long do you think you’ll be able to stay with us?” Your Mom asks.

“A week or two at least.” You pick at a fry, “Bucky is going to come get me whenever I’m ready to go.”

Bucky. They remember Bucky.

“The real brooding guy?” Your Dad asks. “He looks like he needs a drink.” You laugh,

“Yeah, that guy.”

You helped your Mom with her garden. You went to work with your Dad for an afternoon, taking money at the register of his barbershop. Grocery shopping was nice. Doing something so normal and mundane after a while. Getting apple cider donuts from the Amish market and browsing, picking out a good watermelon and barbecuing. Something you felt like you’d taken for granted for so long before.

“Hey, how are you?” You stepped inside, away from the noise of your cousin’s birthday party. A small backyard barbecue with just family, an iced sheet cake on the kitchen counter with candles waiting to be lit.

“I’m doing alright,” His voice, you hadn’t realized how much you missed it. “Sam is riding my ass about this paperwork, but it’s just about done. How are your parents?”

“They’re good.” You sigh, leaning against the wall. “They’re happy to have me back.”

“I’m sure.” There was silence for a beat,

“I miss you.” Both said at the same time. You laugh, “We spent so much time together in those last couple weeks… I thought this break would be nice, and it is, I love seeing my family and being here, but…”

“I wish you were here.” Who knew he’d be such a softie? You hum,

“You could always come down when you’re done with that paperwork.” You look out the sliding door to the back yard. “I’m sure my parents wouldn’t mind.” He lets out a chuckle.

“Maybe, I’ll think about it.” You tug your bottom lip between your teeth.

“Have you ever seen the liberty bell?” You can hear him shift on the other line, getting comfortable.

“Can’t say that I have.” You could hear the smile on his face.

“You should come see that at least,” You hear him hum, “Maybe get a cheesesteak, see a couple of museums.”

“That doesn’t sound half bad actually, I just might have to.” You pick at the polish on your nails.

“Wanda tells me that you’re having trouble sleeping.” A heavy sigh. “What’s going on?” Silence.

“I’ll be fine.” But you knew he wasn’t. Being back in the chair, going through that again, even if it was for a short period of time. I was setting him back.

“Have you talked to Tom about it?” His therapist. Another sigh, so no. “Bucky…”

“I know. I know… I’ll talk to him about it this week.” Your Mom steps through the sliding glass door with your Aunt.

“We’re about to do cake.” She says. Telling you to get off the phone without telling you to get off the phone. You nod.

“I’ve got to go, but please don’t forget to take care of yourself. Take a shower, talk to your therapist, and then come see me. Promise?” You can hear Bucky move on the other line.

“I promise.” A grin on your face.

He showed up the weekend after. Hair a little shaggy and beard unshaven he stepped out of his car and into your arms. The hug much needed, giving you a little rush of happiness. A comfort in it.

He looks so tired. Talking to your parents over dinner. Just exhausted. And you know he hasn’t been sleeping. If the bags under his eyes were anything to go by, he hadn’t slept much since you left a week ago.

“They like you.” You tell him later, sitting on the edge of the bed in the guest room. “You don’t have to sleep in here,” You offer, “They won’t care if you slept in the same bed as me.” It’s not 1940 went unspoken but was there. He sighs, rubbing his eyes.

“I’ve been a little restless,” He admits, “I don’t want to wake you up.” You roll your eyes, standing and holding your hand out to him.

“Come on.”

Your bed was a full size. Not as big as the beds at the compound but just about the size you’d had when you were sleeping in the Hydra facility in Austria. Which means you’re snuggled up face to face, looking at each other in the dark.

“I think it would be good for us.” You reason, “I think we need some closure.” He stares at you for a moment,

“That’s what Tom said too.” You shrug, your hands clasped together. “I just don’t even know what I would say…”

“I don’t know either.” You whisper into his hands. “Steve was leading me this whole way and the focus had always been on him, but… I was Peggy’s kid too.” And she had to give you away too. She had to lose a child too. “I think this would be really good for me.” He nods against the pillow.

“Okay.”

“We can go?” He sighs, fingers brushing your cheek.

“Yeah, we can go.”

Steve was buried next to Peggy. With her until death and far after. He was a traditionalist after all. The flowers felt silly in your hands as you lay them on the two graves, lush with flowers of admirers… tourists. You throat so dry and your nerves getting the better of you.

This wasn’t the Peggy that was your Mother. This was a different Peggy from a different universe. But it didn’t erase what was in your DNA. Your biology. You feel a tie to her. In more ways than one.  

You’d done more research on her. Who she was. What she stood for. You talked to Sharon. Your cousin. She talked to you about how Peggy was really into female empowerment. She supported her when she wanted to join the CIA. She supported her through everything. And you wonder for a moment what it would have been like to grow up with Steve and Peggy as your parents. That legacy. If you’d lived long enough, would you have joined SHIELD? Would you have fought the same way they did? Against the injustice they saw in the world?

Yes, you think. You would have. Because even with a different hand dealt in life you still found your way back here. To this very moment.

“Hi, Mom.” It felt strange, talking to nothing, but it wasn’t really nothing was it? “I uh… I’ve been thinking about what I would want to say to you… how I would even… talk to you like I did with Dad and I know it probably wasn’t easy to let me go.” You swallowed roughly, tears already pooling in the corners of your eyes, “I know it wasn’t easy, but I just want to say thank you. I… I’m going to live a long and happy life here, where I might not have survived before. I found something that makes me truly happy, like I didn’t even know… that I was capable of any of that…

but I know it’s from you. Not just from Dad.” Your hands are shaking, and you wrap your arms around yourself. “I think that we kind of got lost in that a little bit. He’s Captain America, the golden boy… American hero that he is, no one even cared that I was your daughter… I just want to thank you for everything you’d done for me… and the person you let me become.”

It felt strange, talking to the grey stone. But relieving. Tension in your shoulders dissipating. There was also a slight emptiness, never being able to meet her. Never being able to talk to her. “I wish I could have at least talked to you,” A sigh, “At least once.”

But they’re always with you, right?

“Are you okay?” Bucky rubs your arms and you lean back into his chest, he wraps his arms around you, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“Yeah,” You sigh, “I think it’s your turn.” Your hand rubbing his forearm that lay across your chest. He stiffens slightly, you were sure he was anxious, he pressed a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll give you some privacy.” You stepped away from him, holding his hand until you were too far out of reach, taking steps away from him to reach the car, leaning against the passenger door.

Bucky looked back at you, you giving him a little thumbs up and a soft smile. He sighs, turning back to look at the stones in front of him. Steve’s name carved out in the granite. He remembers being here before. Carrying the casket. Sore and upset. He remembers you sitting, not too far away. In a wheelchair, recovering from your surgery still, but there to pay your respects to the man who saved your life.

He remembers that day as being very difficult. His fists clenched and angry. Sam had been trying to calm him down all morning, but it had been hard. He couldn’t deal with the loss. He just couldn’t.

It feels like a lifetime ago now.

He swallows, “Steve…” He felt a little ridiculous. “I’m angry that you left me.” He lets out a deep breath. “I was angry… that you left me. I was angry that you left me and didn’t tell me the real reason why…” His fists were tight now. “I would have understood, if you had only told me… I wouldn’t have thought that you didn’t love me enough, I wouldn’t have thought that you didn’t care.

Steve, I… I loved you so much for so long that I didn’t see anything else ever happening. I always thought we would be together, as friends or not. It was hard for me to come to terms with the fact that you didn’t see it that way. It broke my heart to bury you. I didn’t think I had anything else and if it wasn’t for Sam I…” Maybe wouldn’t be here. He squeezed his eyes shut, taking a deep breath and trying to gather his thoughts.

“She’s incredible, Steve.” He could feel your eyes on his back, knowing you looked at him with worry. “She’s so intelligent and kind, she’s strong… I would have left you for her too.” A rough joke with a watery laugh, “It’s easier to say now, looking back that you made the right decision. But at the time it was almost impossible to reason… I just… I wanted to let you know that I love her.” He felt the tension melt from his shoulders, “And I’ll take care of her pal… Thank you for bringing her to me.” The granite felt warm from the sun as he rest his hand on the headstone. “Thank you for everything you’ve ever done for me.”

He met you at the car, standing close, resting his hands on the roof of the car, caging you in. Your eyes fluttering closed as he pressed his mouth to yours. A soft and slow kiss. You sigh, wrapping your arms around his waist, the hug much needed. The emotional turmoil finally settling. A comfortable silence.

When you pull back, he looks down on you, a soft smile, red eyes.

“Are you ready?” You hum,

“To leave or to move on?” He shrugs,

“Both?” You return his smile.

“Let’s go.”

You couldn’t help but feel like, when you sunk into the passenger seat and let Bucky drive you away, that you were leaving that part behind you.

You hadn’t had another memory of Steve since actually sitting and talking to him, there was a little emptiness there that hadn’t been before, soothed over with the fact that you felt changed by this. Your hand was in Bucky’s, over the center console, his thumb running over your wrist. He brought your hand up to his lips, pressing a kiss to the back of it as you pulled out of the lot and onto the street.

“I think we need a vacation.” He sighs, his eyes a little red rimmed still from the emotional toll of the day. You nod,

“Where should we go?” A side smile,

“Wherever you wanna go baby.”

[quirkwizard]

Spoiled Sushi

For a while, a certain article has been vexing me. One that seems to have a great misunderstanding of the series it was writing about, missing obvious points and core parts of the worldbuilding. No, it wasn’t by CBR, nor was it by Screenrant. But it was by Cruchyroll of all places. They decided to make an article about the Top 5 Misused Quirks in My Hero Academia. It was not good and has been bugging me. So I decided to give them a taste of their own medicine. I mean they try to shut down whoever even attempts to do what they do, so why not make fun of them for trying to do what I do? Plus you guys seem to like it when I’m snarky, so this could be fun for everyone.

For clarity’s sake, this was written at the beginning of 2019, when the most recent chapter was Chapter 214 and the the anime had only reached Season 3. I’m keeping that in mind as I write. I will also be skipping around some of the parts of the article as I am talking about it. If its not worth mentioning, I won’t bring it up, simple as that. For instance, I’m skipping the intro because it is completely superfluous and would only serve to make a completely different fanbase mad. Might as well, most of what I am passing up are just dumb jokes. But if you are curious... don’t waste your time reading this. Your time is valuable and you have better things to do then read this article.

5. Kurogiri Can Create Free, Renewable Energy

“In all seriousness, though, Kurogiri is probably one of the most powerful characters in the anime, with their being virtually no limit to how far he can extend his Warp Gate portals.”

I mean there are certainly limits for his Quirk. Besides the need to know the coordinates or see where he is moving, there’s obviously a limit to how much he can spread out his body.

“Why then doesn’t he use them to create near-infinite energy? Open two portals one above another, throw in a heavy object inside and watch it fall endlessly. Devise a way to hook a dynamo or something to it and, bam, you have free power that would make Kurogiri a billionaire overnight and a hero to the entire planet.”

This idea has so many problems that I don’t even know where to begin.

One, if this could work, it likely wouldn’t make a lot of energy. Besides the various physics problems involved in this, Kurogiri would just be one guy doing this, meaning that it’s unlikely he’d be able to make enough power to matter.

Two, Kurogiri would still need rest as he is a living being, meaning he wouldn’t to keep up this theoretical contraption forever and you’d get even less energy relying on him. At most, it would work best in a small bunker as a last resort.

Three, that sounds like it would be a lot more dangerous then it would be worth for the energy made. If Kurogiri would to lose focus for a moment, the portals fall apart and there would just be a lot of damage from this heavy object moving at high speeds.

“Even if Kurogiri only cares about taking down All Might, it would still be much easier to do if he had a literal mountain of money/public goodwill at his side.”

What kind of bizzaro universe are you living in where the guy who makes energy could possibly turn public option about the very well liked Number 1 Hero that saves lives every day? That’s literally what Lex Luthor does and people hate him for it.

4. Koji Koda Could Help Feed Billions Of People

“Koji is the resident Class 1-A stoner (get it? he's made of rock? come on) with the power to control ANY creature in the animal kingdom. This would logically also include spiders, meaning that Koji could literally end all street crime in, like, 5 minutes tops by swallowing all the criminals up in a giant arachno-tsunami.”

While this article is infuriating in many ways, it did give us the mental image of an “arachno-tsunami”. Which is totally worth sitting through this jumbled mess of words and ignorance.

“But, you see, Koji is just too shy and nice to be an effective hero. He wants to do good but he just doesn’t have that fighter instinct in him. Which is why he should instead use his Anivoice Quirk to revolutionize agriculture all around the world.”

You can be an effective hero and not beat people up. Sure, it certainly can come up in the job description, but that isn’t all of what a hero is meant to do. Koda’s Quirk makes him great at information gathering and rescue work, two very important aspects of hero work that suit his personality perfectly.

“Give him a megaphone and fly him over American fields, telling feral pigs to stop causing $1.5 billion worth of damage a year in destroyed crops. Fly him to Australia to tell the invasive cane toads and rabbits to kindly lemming themselves off a cliff. Have him tell the aggressive lionfish the get the hell out of the Atlantic. FORCE HIM TO GET OVER HIS FEAR OF BUGS AND MAKE AGRICULTURAL PESTS A THING OF THE PAST. “

There is no possible way Koda could be everywhere at once to pull that off. And considering that the average human voice can only carry for about a mile, IE, about the average size of a single farm. You know, because animals need to hear his voice in order to receive his commands. So even if it was limited to a single farm, its unlikely to do much to help. But by far the biggest issue with this entire plan is that what Koda does to an animal is not permanent. The second his control is interrupted, the animals return to normal, bound to just go back to whatever they were doing before. 

So if Koda tries to change anything, its just going to end up undone by the time he leaves, just delaying the inevitable problem that comes from these animals. So even if Koda told the pigs to go away, they’d likely be back by the next day, destroying farmland like nothing happened. Even then, because of the previous limitations, he’d still have to go farm by farm to pull it off. That’s not even mentioning all of the other suggestions. Honestly, if you wanted to do something with Quirk, you should just convince all the animals to line up during hunting season. Dark, yes, but it least it would offer a more permanent solution then what the writer is suggesting.

“If Koji was utilized properly, he could travel the world undoing mankind’s mistakes and creating organic, pesticide-free crops instead of doing what he does now, which is largely sitting around on his ass roleplaying Snow White.”

Which, in spite of many fans joking about his Quirk, has shown to be very helpful quite a few times.

3. Inko Midoriya Would Have Made A Great Nurse

“Izuku’s mother in My Hero Academia has mainly done two things so far: jack and squat.”

I mean she did design Izuku’s costume, even if it got replaced, its is still a corner stone of his design, and she offered a good amount of drama after the fight with All Might and All For One. 

“She did try to be a good mother but kind of failed at that when she tearfully apologized to her son because he was born without a Quirk, essentially telling him: “I’m so sorry I gave birth to such a loser.””

Would you believe that this one line was what really prompted me to talk about this? Because that is probably one of the worst takes I have ever in relation to this series. If you honestly believed that is what Inko was doing, the woman who practically raised her child by herself and constantly talks about much she cares for him, you must be watching the wrong series. That’s the only way I could explain why that is.

“So, she doesn’t really have much going on in her life. That’s why she should try nursing instead. I realize that becoming a nurse takes a lot of hard work and dedication, but Inko would be a natural fit for it. Despite her initial shortcomings, she is a very caring person with loads of empathy.” 

Inko’s empathic? Could have fooled me. I mean she did feel the need to apologize to her son for giving birth to a loser. No, I am not over that, how could you have possibly gotten that from the scene?!

“She also has the power of limited telekinesis. Inko can move small objects over short distances, and while that would not be helpful for stopping crime, it would be great for, say, removing kidney stones. Or things stuck in people’s throats. Or coins from children’s stomachs.”

Trying to use a Quirk like this in any kind of medical procedure is laughable at best and dangerous at worst. Imagine if Inko had to remove a bullet from someone. From what we see, the process of her moving objects is slow and need several pulls from her to attract the object to her. So if she’s going to try to pull it out and its going to get caught on something, causing more damage to the person she is trying to save. She’s basically going to be keying the insides of whoever she is trying to operate on.

The entire reasons doctors, especially surgeons, train for so long is because the human body can be extremely delicate. It needs a lot of care and time so the doctors don’t make things worse for the patients. It’s why surgeons need to have such steady hands and a lot of time even to due minor procedures. But trying to do that with a Quirk is just going to cause more problems then it can solve. Doing that with a Quirk like Inko’s just lacks a lot of the precision and dexterity necessary to pull this off.

2. Uraraka Should Go Work For A Shipping Company

“Ochaco Uraraka has one of the most well-rounded Quirks out of all the main characters: Zero Gravity. With it, she can make objects and people float, which is great for offense, defense, and rescue operations. As a superheroine, she is doing everything right with her Quirk.”

I mean “Zero Gravity” can kind of be used offensively, but not effectively as other Quirks. Its why she did all of that training with Gun Head to make up for her lack of an offensive presence. Eh, two of three ain’t bad. I’ll take what I can get.

“I just think Uraraka should never have become a superheroine in the first place. Uraraka has actually always been honest about her motivation: she wants dem YEN YEN BILLS YO (for her struggling family.)”

That’s because hero work is an extremely frugal business even super minor heroes can still seem to make a decent living out of it.

“But regular jobs also exist in that world, and that must include shipping companies that would instantly hire Uraraka to Zero-G their freighters, trucks, and planes. Even if she cannot make them float, she can still remove enough gravity from them to save the company tons of fuel. Company profit margins are razor thin.”

First off, its mentioned several times that if you want to use a Quirk for a job, you need to have a hero license. Its to make sure you know how to use your Quirk properly so you don’t end up hurting someone with your powers. So for her to even try this, she needs to go through hero school anyway. Might as well get the most out of it. Second, Uraraka cannot lower the gravity of her target. Either the object is floating or it isn’t floating. There is no in between for Uraraka. 

Third, given what we’ve seen from Uraraka, there is no possible way that she could ever lift that much. She’s barely able to lift three lower numbered robots and that was only for a few seconds. So, at the most, she can lift a few tons. How exactly do you expect her to work with something like a cargo plane, which, on its own, can weight over forty five tons, not including fuel or any extra cargo?

Which is another thing I noticed throughout the article: the writer seems to severely overestimate how effective Quirks actually are. The range and scope of Quirks is much smaller then other power systems, even when compared to similar “low level” series like HunterxHunter. Like every kind of application listed goes far beyond what most Quirks are capable of, such as forgetting certain drawbacks. And that is most notable with the last suggestion.

1. Momo Could Solve Literally All The World’s Problems

I bet Kohei Horikoshi was really proud of himself when he came up with Momo Yaoyorozu’s design: No, see, she HAS to dress scantily because her Quirk is Creation, i.e. the ability to create any object she wants through her skin, which must be constantly exposed. Peachy.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without beating that long dead horse. What’s next? Bakugou angry? Izuku cry? 

“Momo can apparently create anything as long as she understands its composition, and seeing as she’s made an ethanol spray can, infrared goggles, a lighter, and a tracker, it seems like there’s nothing she cannot make.”

Oh boy, it wouldn’t be any sort of discussion about Momo without a grievous misunderstanding of how her Quirk works either. Maybe they are in the fandom. As I have mentioned in my Momo Misconceptions post, Momo needs fat to make what she does. She’s not an alchemist where she can just clap her hands and make whatever she wants. If she doesn’t have enough fat, she cannot make items. By those very rules, some things are just out of her reach because it would just take too much fat. It’s why she limits herself to simpler items.

“Cool. MAKE US SOME HELIUM THEN. The world is running out of the gas and we need it for MRI scanners and the like. Momo could make more of it.”

Actually, we don’t even know for sure if Momo is capable of making gases. All we have seen her make is solids and a few liquids. There is the lighter she made, but that could easily run on lighter fluid.

“Or thorium. She could make thorium that we could use to make thorium-based reactors that are apparently way safer than uranium ones.”

Thorium isn’t even that rare, just as about as common as lead and three times as common as uranium. Even if it was a problem, it would likely kill her, either from burning through all of her fat or from the exposure to radiation.

“Medicine, fresh water, cheap electronics that we could send to developing countries: Momo could crank all of those out in an afternoon.“

Yes, in theory, Momo could do that, but not the extent that she would make a major difference in the world like they are suggesting. There are just more practical and better long term solutions then trying to force a single person to do all of that. It’s almost as if Momo is a regular human being who has limitations you need to keep in mind when making these ill informed suggestions.

“And while spending your life as a walking Everything Faucet might not seem that glamorous, it actually has the potential to change the entire planet for the better.”

Given the kind of set up and effort that would be required to even attempt that, I think “horrific” would be a more appropriate descriptor since it would be done to a living, thinking person.

Honestly, I think that most of these people are doing more with their Quirks now then with any of these suggestions. At least, when you actually think about the rules and limits of the characters. Sure, Inko isn’t doing much, but she is a civilian with a fairly weak Quirk. Kurogiri acts as a major player within the League, getting them around quickly and evading capture. I mean he is using his power to help out a bunch of villains, but my point still stands that he is not “misusing” his Quirk.

In fact, a majority of the people on this list are doing more to help people and save lives by being heroes. Given the limitations of their abilities, using them to stop superpowered criminals who risking damaging the people around and helping victims of these crimes is doing then any of those roles in spite of the fact that the article tries its best to downplay that these people are already saving lives. So, in reality, they are doing far more to help people then doing any of these ideas, you damp sock of a writer.

[hunflowers]

MYTHOLOGY (I)

Word Count: 6.4k

Requested? Not exactly, but you always can here :)

A/N; OMGGG it’s finally here. I’m sorry for the long wait but I really hope you all enjoy the first part of demigod!Harry. And listen, I’m gonna be honest, this part is probably a little boring bc this is all about background/the past leading to the present, so pls bear with me because i promise it’ll be good! Anywho onwards to the story, have fun! *nose boops* 

tag list: @thicksniall @meetmeinfleetwood @afire-hes @pradaxstyles @c-h-e-r-r-y-y @gotmyhandonmyheart @burberryharold @harrymoncheri

Life is a funny thing.

Everyone thinks they know who they are and how their life is going to pan out. There’s a meticulous planning to life that people try to control; a plan that decides where they end up, who they end up with, and how happy they end up. But it’s so far out of everyone’s control, and not a single person could claim they were successful.

Calista thought for once she was in control, that maybe if she took matters into her own hands, everything was going to go the way she wanted.

And everything was starting to look up.

From birth to present, her life has always been one filled with uncertainty. Uncertain about where she was going to live, if she was going to eat, if she’d ever find a family that would love her. All her life she wished for something to go her way, for something to go right instead of left.

When she hit the turning age of eighteen, things did start to look up for her. All her life she’s been on the lower level standards of society, grazing by, by the skin of her teeth. She figured her life was doomed from the start considering she never really had a true family, or a true support system.

As a baby she was left on the doorstep of some random woman’s house, and then that woman handed her over to the nearest orphanage, which then turned her over to the foster care system. From the moment she was born she hadn’t been wanted by anyone, not even her own parents, and all her childhood was between homes and ignorant foster parents who hardly ever cared for her existence, but rather the check she brought in for them.

A person’s childhood is meant to represent the happiest portion of their life. Being able to look back on memories that last forever, memories that weld nostalgia, and memories that you’ll forever hold close to your heart. 

This wasn’t Calista’s case. 

For Cal, all she can remember is the constant bullying from foster siblings because of her innate ability to be a good student; The constant slaps and kicks and punches thrown her way because she was too slow to stop them; The never ending verbal abuse of being alone with no friends.

Every day she went to school and wished she could never leave, because at school people at least left her alone. No one cared to talk to her so that meant she didn’t have to deal with anyone, and she liked that more than anything. It was going home that was the problem. There were plenty of times she contemplated running away, finding a home that would accept her, but she always talked herself down, saying one day these people will be nice to her. She had high hopes and tried to see the best of every situation, but time after time she was let down when she was pushed into a wall or tripped on the sidewalk.

The last home she was in before she turned eighteen had been the worst of them all. Every night she cried herself to sleep, and prayed to whoever would listen that she needed to be saved, that she shouldn’t have to live her life like this and that hopefully one day, things will start to look up. Then they did, and it was incredibly shocking. Cal was awarded a full ride scholarship to the University of Cambridge, a goal she’d never think she would achieve. The moment she got the news she made sure to put in extra hours at work and even get a second job so the moment she graduated high school she could leave, and head straight for England.

She had been tempted to tell her foster parents, to see if maybe they would be happy for her, but every time she tried, they shot her down and forced her to do work around the house or banished her to her room for the night and left her starving. No words could ever properly convey how excited she was to put this part of her life behind her, to start somewhere new, and to hopefully make better memories along the way.

So, her eighteenth birthday passed and high school graduation flew by, and before she knew it, she was packing up without a word to anyone, and moved away. She didn’t really have a plan as to what she would do once she got there, but anything was going to be better than her old life.

Calista had bounced around a few motel rooms over the course of a couple months before she moved into her dorm room, keeping herself busy with a few different jobs to try and save up a bit of money. Even here it was difficult trying to stand on solid ground, and she can’t say she expected much else with the cards she’s been dealt in life, but with this new start she figured it would be at least a little better than life back over the ocean.

Then the unexpected happened.

She made a friend at the restaurant she had been working at.

Trinity Kim, the bestest friend Calista could ever ask for. Usually, when people talk of soulmates, they talk of significant others. If anyone were to ask Cal who her soulmate was, she’d say Trinity, Trin for short. 

It’s almost as if they were destined to be friends. They were alike in every way possible, but they were also so different which kept things interesting. For example, they both had lived pretty tough lives before meeting one another. Though Trin wasn’t in foster care her whole life, her father and step-mom had been involved in her life so little that she nearly forgot they ever existed. Their biggest connection had been that they never had met their birth mothers, which at first was oddly coincidental, but now, a few years later, it was strangely comforting for them to have something so deep in common. It’s hard to relate to people who have stable homes, because for Calista, well, she doesn’t; And not that she wants people to feel the way she does, but for some reason, when she found out Trin had a bit of a messed up life too, it helped her feel not so alone in this scary reality.

Then they found out they’re actually going to the same University, and that’s when they knew they’d be inseparable. Because what’re the odds of that? 

Adapting to this new lifestyle was a rollercoaster for Calista, not that she expected any different, but three years later, she still found life a little overwhelming from time to time. Though this life was infinitely better than her one back in the states, it didn’t stop her underlying insecurities of not fitting in anywhere. She has Trin, and the few other friends she’s made over the years, but no matter where she was she never felt this sense of… belonging.

A lot of people she knew at school were business majors, looking to go into finance and everything else associated with the program, because they were trying to build stable careers. Calista on the other hand invested her life into the classical studies program, because for some reason she had this weird fascination with ancient life ever since she was a little girl, finding Greek and Roman life to be so interesting. It wasn’t a popular major, and people she told always tried to bring her down because of it, claiming she’d never get anywhere in life knowing stuff about mythological gods that never existed.

She’s learned to grow a tough exterior, not letting people and their dumb criticisms get in her way anymore. She’s a blooming adult, and she’s learned the hard way that sometimes people are just mean for the sake of being mean, so she’s put on her big girl pants and sticks up for herself now, never giving anyone the chance to walk all over her anymore.

Trinity has also helped Calista in boosting her self-confidence, giving her that little push to bite back at people that bark. There was one time they were at a party, and a girl came up to Calista, claiming she had been flirting with her boyfriend - and truth is, she had been, but she wouldn’t have if she knew he had a girlfriend - and when she starting calling her names, Calista spat right back at her, telling her to get a better boyfriend if this one was flirting with other women, and that maybe she should get a better taste in men.

Normally, Cal would’ve just apologized and moved on, but she’s so sick of people thinking they could just say or do whatever they want to her.

That’s why on one special night, Calista’s life changed forever.

She had been coming home from work with Trin, their job only a few streets away from their shared apartment, so they walked. It had been a nice night out, the moon in its crescent phase, glistening in the indigo sky, accompanied by a few scattered stars. It was a night just like every other one, until it wasn’t.

“Trin, I’m telling you, Niall likes you.”

“Please! He likes you, I know he does.”

“How could he like me, if he’s told me himself that he likes you?” 

Trinity paused in her steps, halting Calista a few steps ahead of her, looking over her shoulder with a confused look. Trinity was looking around, as if she saw something Calista didn’t, a worrisome face etched into her features. “Trin?”

The situation wasn’t helped by the fact they were in a more remote part of the city, no cars or people around at this time of night. They were both too poor to afford a car, hardly getting by with their rent money, and this is when that lack of money would bite them in the ass. The weird part was, Trin didn’t really seem unnerved about her surroundings or anything, she just looked confused. That’s when Calista saw something move in the corner of her eye, or someone actually. They appeared from the alley a few feet away, as if that wasn’t creepy at all, and stood beneath the streetlamp that hovered above them, illuminating a dull golden glow around them. 

There were two people, a boy and a girl watching the two friends, hands at their sides, holding some sort of… weaponry. It was hard to tell, but from a distance it almost looked like they were holding swords. All Calista could think about, rather than her fear of being killed, is who uses a sword anymore?

Their faces seemed oddly recognizable even though she’s pretty sure she’s never seen them before. Yet, she felt like she knew them. Though, it seems Trin does when she speaks nonchalantly to them, shoulders relaxed in relief of it not being some crazed serial killer. “What the fuck do you guys want?”

The girl ignored her, keeping her dark eyes fixated on Calista, skimming the length of her body in disgust, a grimace resting on her features as she rolls her eyes at Calista just simply standing there. “We were told to relay a message to you.”

“And this had to be done at ten at night, next to an alley?” Trin deadpanned, crossing her arms over her chest. Cal stood off to the side, lost out of her mind as the three bickered back and forth for some odd seconds, wondering what in the hell was going on. She still couldn’t even pinpoint where she knew these people from.

Not to mention, she was still beyond confused about why they had fucking swords.

The boy caught her eyeing the metal, pushing the material of his jacket back a little bit so the silver shined under the streetlamp, either showing it off or trying to taunt her. Yet, her only response to that was an eye roll and a tap of her foot as she continued to ache from her six hour shift. It was weird how she didn’t feel at all threatened in this situation, but something in the back of her mind told her that if it were to go south, she’d be okay. Maybe not, she’s hardly ever been violent in her life, usually taking pain but never giving it.

“Tell her yet?” The girl jutted her head in Calista’s direction, again eyes raking her body with a look of disgust written on her lips.

“No, they said not to,” Trin replied, side glancing to Cal quickly, praying in her mind the curly haired girl didn’t ask questions when they left. 

The thing about Trinity is that although to Calista, her appearance in her life seemed completely natural and as if they bonded purely on their backgrounds, that wasn’t completely true. For three years Trinity has been keeping the biggest secret of her best friend’s life and it’s been eating her alive ever since the small age of thirteen. When she was younger, she was told about how her future was meant to unfold with the mystery girl from across the atlantic, and how she was sworn to secrecy because it could end both of their lives if any wrong person found out the truth.

It was a lot for a thirteen year old to take in, but Trin knew she had to be strong.

But, when word got around that Calista was making her way over, that’s when Trinity was told to ease the girl as slowly and painlessly as possible into her righteous lifestyle. Trinity though, couldn’t grow the balls to ever do that, always fearing that she’d cause pain to her newfound friend and that -- from personal experience -- finding out the truth can be very, very difficult. So she hasn’t told her about her true history, and she’s felt awful about it.

Though, due to Cal’s impeccable speed, she beat her friend to the answer of that question,  “Tell me what?”

The short blonde girl looked to her opposer, a smirk sliding across her lips before she glanced up to the guy, nudging his arm with her elbow. “This is gonna be good.”

“Can someone tell me what’s going on right now, or?” Calista pressed, looking at all three of them, no one jumping to give her the answer she had been looking for, for the past five minutes.

Trinity looked nervous, gnawing at her bottom lip as she seemed to be in pain with whatever was going around inside her mind. Her lack of talking spoke volumes louder, though; Because her silence meant she was keeping a secret. It was hard to gauge whether or not the impact this secret would have, but a secret was a secret, and Calista hates secrets.

Her whole life had been nothing but a secret considering she had no idea who even birthed her, or if she had any family that was maybe looking for her, or what day she was even born on. Her declared date of birth was the day the woman found her on her porch. She had secrets up the wazoo, and anymore was just bound to break her.

Again, Trinity wasn’t the one to speak up, as now the guy decided to open his mouth, “What do you know about Greek mythology?”

Calista was taken aback by the question, stumbling around in her mind how that was at all relevant. It was also oddly concerning a question so random held so much relevance in her life considering her studies focused around this area of history. “Uh… why?”

“Don’t listen to them, Lis,” Trin interjected, taking a small step forward between her friend at the two a few paces away.

“Well, if you’re not going to, we will,” the girl retorted, now taking her own step forward. From the looks of it from Calista’s point of view, any more hostility verbally, those weird fucking swords of theirs were going to come in handy. And even though she had the slight fear of being impaled to death, something inside of her sparked some sense of nobility, going to stand next to a frustrated Trinity.

“I think someone should tell me something soon before I lose my mind.”

“Well, c’mon then Trinity, tell her. Mr. Cirillo said you have twelve hours, or we’re coming back and doing it ourselves; That’s why we’re here,” the girl shrugged, picking at the chipped black nail polish on her thumb.

Trinity scoffed, rolling her eyes, “Why wouldn’t he just tell me himself?”

“Because he’s tired of telling you and you not listening,” she spat back. “Look, I’d rather her not know either, because I don’t need any more competition for my title, but there’s apparently been a threat, and we need all the hands we can get in case a war breaks out. Plus, it’s unfair for her to keep living a lie. Twelve hours.” And then they walked back into the alley, and disappeared as if they hadn’t been there in the first place.

Calista’s mind was swirling down a very long drain to say the least. A war?Living a lie? Competition for a title? None of it made sense and she wasn’t sure if it ever would. Silence fell upon them the moment they started their journey back home again, not that she knew what to say. She had so many questions buzzing around her brain that she didn’t even know where to begin. Who even were those two? 

And what the fuck was Trinity keeping from her?

The second they stepped through the door of their apartment, Calista flopped herself down on the couch, clutching her head as a migraine began to seep its way into her problems for the night. She didn’t want to be the one the break the thin ice they’d been itching their way across for the past fifteen minutes, but as Trinity paced around, biting at the tip of her thumb, clearly lost in her own thoughts, Cal figured she’d better be the first to speak before she bursts at the seams from anticipation. “Trin, help a girl out, what the hell is going on?”

She stopped her walking, head snapping to the side as her eyes frantically observed the sitting girl that was pushing her sweaty hair back from off her forehead. Whenever everything was dealt with, they seriously had to talk to their landlord about the excessive heating in their flat. It was as if they still had the heat on even when it was blazing outside. 

Trinity took a breath, closing her eyes shut for a brief moment before collecting herself and sitting down on the available leather cushion. “I need to start this off by saying I’m sorry.”

“For wha--”

“Please… just let me finish.”

Calista nodded her head, silently agreeing to let her continue, slowly bracing herself for whatever was bound to be revealed. This deep pit nestled in her stomach, gravity weighing her down as anxiety built up inside pouring out of her as she continuously carded her fingers through the ends of her knotty hair.

“I’m so fucking sorry for lying t’you, and for keeping shit a secret -- even though I was told to -- and I need you to know that it has been my fault for you not knowing any sooner than tonight.“

“You’re really sca--”

Trin gave her a pointed look, causing her to shut her mouth nearly immediately. “Do you… remember when Damien, uh, the guy from before, asked you about Greek mythology?” Calista nodded her head in remembrance, choosing to keep her mouth shut in fear of being told to shut up again.

“The reason he asked you is because, well, it’s not exactly a myth. It’s quite real and well, you’re a part of it. And by that I mean uh… you’re the daughter of the goddess Athena.”

❊ ❊

Calista couldn’t fall asleep that night. 

She laid in bed, covers pulled up to her chest as she stared up at the ceiling, hands resting on her chest as the last of her tears dried on her skin. Her mind hasn’t given her a moment to calm down, thought after thought popping up as question after question runs around, giving her feeling after feeling of all different types of emotions.

She wasn’t happy, that much was for certain given the circumstances. I don’t think anyone can have their life flipped upside down so drastically and be happy about it. But, she wasn’t exactly sad about it either. It’s not everyday someone finds out they’re a literal demigod. Truth is, she doesn’t really know how to feel, because how does one feel when they find out why her life turned out the way it had?

When she came to college, this wasn’t the Greek life she imagined herself joining.

Her mother, Athena, goddess of wisdom, warfare, and handicraft met her father twenty-one years ago. Her father wanted nothing to do with her and well, Athena couldn’t exactly be a proper mother with her god duties and such, so Calista was left alone. It’s said that her mother watches over her everyday, but if that were true why would she allow her daughter to lead such an awful life?

When Calista was thirteen, supposedly people had come to her house to take her to her awaited lifestyle, something she never knew happened. But, her foster mother at the time told them she didn’t want to go with them and that she was happy where she was -- which was a complete lie, because that woman most likely slapped her five minutes prior. Conveniently, not even two weeks later Calista was transferred to a different home because the woman couldn’t take care of her anymore. 

This explains her interest in classical studies, considering she’s technically part of those studies, but her choice to Cambridge was a complete chance, in Trin’s words. But, when news spread that she was coming over seas, that’s when these people felt it was finally time to reel her in. Calista isn’t exactly sure who these people are, because Trinity was pretty vague in her explanations, but from what she can gather, they’re other demigods and mythological creatures and whatever else that are part of this life.

Aside from this whole new truth being exposed to her, the thing battling with her most is what she’s gonna do about Trinity. She’s her best friend, she loves her more than she loves herself, but she can’t put aside the fact that she literally kept the biggest secret of her life from her, because she wasn’t ready to tell her. Trinity was being selfish, and Calista doesn’t know what to do.

All her life she’s dealt with people being the worst to her, and for once she thought someone was different. Turns out, everyone is a liar and chooses to be the worst possible person in front of her. It’s this constant tug of war going on in her brain, that she’ll never be good enough for anything or anyone, and the moment she accepted that, she got Trin. But of course, that was ripped right from her, just like everything else.

Fuck, she’s not even good enough to be a demigod.

The following few days they had hardly spoken to one another. Calista because she was still holding this frustrated anger within her that she’s not exactly certain how to express without blowing her top; And Trin, afraid to get her head chewed off with a promising breakdown following on her part. They were walking on eggshells around one another, to the point they sort of avoided each other to the best of their abilities in their small apartment.

The first time they genuinely spoke was when Trinity said she had to bring Cal to a discreet location where she’ll get more answers from people that know just a little bit more. It was explained though that this is where Trinity ventured off to in the summertime when she went away on “vacation.” Vacation just simply meaning travelling to this camp/school site where she trains and learns more about her true heritage.

It’s hard for Calista to understand what exactly she’s training for, but she guesses that’s why this little trip to this place is necessary.

When they arrived, she was in pure awe at the inspiration of old Greek architecture, noticing the ionic columns lining the front of the big building. Μυθολογία was nestled into the marble, the translation from Greek meaning Mythology, which Trin had mentioned at some point that the name of this place was simply named Mythology because that’s what all of this is supposed to be.

A myth.

“This is where everyone basically sleeps and where we train if it’s raining. There are also a few offices for like, the ancients, so,” Trinity explained, walking them up the set of steps that led them to the main door.

Calista could hardly pay attention to what her friend was saying as she gawked at the intricate and beautiful layout of the foyer in front of her, admiring the various statues and paintings that contained her… mother. “She’s a beautiful woman, isn’t she?” A voice spoke behind her, causing her to whip her head around, coming face to face with an older man that had greying hair and a few wrinkles lining his face.

Oh, and one eye.

“Stunning,” she replied, taking one more look at the goddess before giving her full attention to the man.

“I’m Mr. Cirillo. It’s an honor to meet you, Calista,” he stuck his hand out, which she grasped in her own, shaking it firmly, trying not to stare too hard at the fact that he has one eye but she also doesn’t want to be rude and not give eye contact.

She gulped, taking a look at Trin who was busy on her phone, before smiling softly back up at the tall man. “I’m sorry… I’m still trying to wrap my head around all of this,” she apologized, taking in a deep breath and looking at the few people that walked by them in the foyer, making an awkward eye contact as they started whispering to themselves about her.

Great, even when she’s meant to fit in, she still can’t.

“Believe me, it would be more concerning if it wasn’t a lot to take in. I’m not going to overload you just yet, Trinity will be showing you where you’ll be staying and then head to the cafeteria, you must be hungry from the ride here,” he suggested, placing his hand on hers and Trin’s shoulders, guiding them in the direction they were meant to be.

Then, Trinity was taking her hand, leading her up the grand staircase in front of them, leading them down endless hallways to finally get to their shared room. It was a decently sized room, half of it clearly inhabited by Trin as it was messy and had a few of her signature posters lining the wall. The other half however was very empty, only adorned by the full size bed and wardrobe and small nightstand table. “You’ve been set as my roommate since I first moved in,” Trinity spoke quietly, picking at her fingernails as she sat on the edge of her own bed.

Calista nodded her head, setting her suitcase down next to her bed. Walking over to the window seat, sitting herself down on the soft blue cushion, overlooking what must be a courtyard as across from her just seemed to be more rooms that were down a different hallway. They both sat in silence for some odd minutes before Calista took the plunge and said, “I just wish you told me.”

Nearly immediately Trinity responded, jumping up from her seat and padding over to her friend, standing a couple feet away. “I’m so sorry, Lis. I have no good reason to explain why I didn’t, but I regret it so fucking much. I shouldn’t have been selfish and I need you to know I’m just so, so sorry. I probably screwed up your trust in me, but I’m going to do whatever I can to fix this.”

Both of their eyes watered, emotions flooding through both of them as they wind up in a few more moments of silence. They’ve never not talked or hardly ever got in fights, and by this point, they were both just sick of the never ending silence and wished everything could just go back to the way it was. But, it can’t, though they’ll both do everything they can to resume some sort of normalcy and hopefully repair this strained relationship.

Calista looked to her friend, nodding her head in a silent acknowledgement that she knows she’s going to try hard, and stands up to bring her in for a hug. It was the most awkward hug of their life, but it definitely was a start. They both cried a bit, but when they separated they raised their hands and wiped away each other’s tears, laughing a bit to themselves.

Sniffling, Trin stood straighter, gesturing around the room, “Alright, well this is our lovely humble abode. You can do whatever you want to your side and uh… Oh! These small little statues,” she pointed to the small sculptures that were in little cubbies by the window, “are our mothers. So, y’know, Athena is on your side and Artemis is on mine. As if we don’t see their faces around here enough, but honestly I think it’s so no funny business can go down in our rooms because, well, our parents are watching which is weird.”

“Trinity Kim, has any funny business gone down in this room?” Calista questions, raising her eyebrow at her friend. She immediately turned red at the inquiry, turning hot on her heel and over to the door. “C’mon, let’s get some food before it’s all eaten.”

Calista gasped at her blatant avoidal of the question, “Trin!”

❊ ❊

There were a lot of people around. A lot more than Calista could expect.

And surprisingly, aside from when she first entered and people were whispering about her, a lot of people were completely welcoming. She was the talk of the town apparently, everyone knowing who she was and crowding around her to introduce themselves. She felt bad since she had not a clue who any of them were but it seems none of them cared.

The thing that surprised her most was to see Niall, another friend of hers and Trin’s that went to school with them, here. It makes her wonder who else she knows from school that’s here.

And apparently Niall is the son of Poseidon? Which is pretty fucking cool, and explains a lot about him, like his obsession with pool sports. Or, just water in general. 

But, now that she knows Niall’s here, she wonders if he’s who’s been in her room with Trin. She tried to pry it out of her friend before, and she was so close to getting an answer, but then Niall came over to them and she immediately shut up. 

She also saw those two people from the other night, Damien and Wren, that sat by themselves in the corner of the grand room, seeming completely uninterested in anything that involved everyone else. Trinity had explained that they think they’re better than everyone else here so they hardly take time out of their day to engage with others. 

Damien’s Zeus’ son, so because his father is Mr. Almighty, he basically thinks he holds that same title, when in reality he’s just a dickhead. He’s mediocre at best at combat, with or without weapons, and is just plain rude and egotistical. Wren is the daughter of Ares, so she thinks she’s something special because she’s the best female fighter this place has ever seen. Which, it’s pretty cool to be the best, but that doesn’t mean she has to be a bitch about it.

Their whole dinner, Trin and Niall tried giving her the scoop of everyone deemed necessary -- their words -- but one person in particular stood out to her. He was on the opposite side of the room, and even though he’s sitting at a table, it looks like everyone sitting with him, is there just because he is. Calista could admit it is difficult to not pay attention to him, his vibrant smile and glowing aura drawing anyone to him.

His name’s Harry, and according to Niall, he’s the best male soldier this place has ever seen. It was hard for Niall to admit it, but he can’t avoid the truth. Unlike Damien who despised Harry for it, them two supposedly always going head to head about who was better. “Damien can never get the hint that he, well, sucks ass,” Niall digressed, sipping on his drink, raising his eyebrows in an ‘I’m not wrong’ manner.

It also doesn’t help Damien’s case that Harry is a genuinely nice guy. Aside from the battle field, Harry will go out of his way to help anyone, bringing joy and happiness to everyone around him. He’s the son of Apollo, god of the sun which makes sense since this guy basically radiates energy like he himself is the sun.

He was definitely someone she wanted to befriend, and she’s a little saddened he was part of the masses that had introduced themselves to her earlier.

“He’s right. A lot of people wish they were as good as Harry, but it sort of just comes, uh, natural to him,” Trin shrugs in agreement. Calista looks past her friends to take a look at him one more time, noticing he’s no longer sat at his table anymore.

But, then a voice speaks from right next to her, startling her and causing her to jump in her seat as she notices the guy suddenly sitting next to her. “You always know how to warm my heart Trin,” he smiles, placing his hand on his chest over where his beating muscle lies, before extending it out to the new girl.

“Hi, I’m Harry.”

Never mind, she’s happy again.

Calista takes his hand now, shaking it with a response of her name, all but falling in love with him immediately on the spot. How is someone allowed to be this good looking? It surely must be a crime.

“How’re you liking things so far?” He asked, keeping his eyes locked on hers and a small smile on his face, as if he was always such a happy person.

Calista swallowed, “I’m adjusting.”

“Understandable. It’s easy getting used to though, especially since you already have some friends here,” he smiled kindly, bringing his hand up to brush through the few fallen strands of hair that adorned his forehead.

“Well, look who finally showed up,” another person spoke from behind her, everyone’s eyes snapping towards the direction it came from. Wren stood at the end of their table, a cynical smirk plastered on her face as a bored looking Damien stood behind her. “Nice to see you again, Newbie.”

Though the tone in her voice suggested otherwise. So, Calista called her out on it, “Is it?”

Wren scoffed, rolling her eyes dramatically as a drawn out groan escaped her mouth. “Let me guess, they told you how I’m the biggest bitch around and that all I care about is staying at the top.”

Calista looked around at her silent friends, nodding her head in agreement, “Mm, yup.”

“Good, then we have an understanding. Don’t get in my way, and I won’t get in yours,” she grinned, placing the palms of her hands flat on the table as she leaned forward, her face about a foot away from Calista’s.

It was clear she was trying to be intimidating, her stern face probably scaring away anyone she laid her eyes on. Though, just like a few nights ago, Cal was far from scared. Something about this girl was far from threatening, so without a second thought, Calista leaned her face a bit closer, a small smirk of her own forming on her mouth. 

She didn’t like bullies, and she was tired of running away from them.

“And if I do?”

Wren’s eyes lowered into slits, her smirk dropping as her upper lip nearly raised into a snarl, clearly not enjoying the fact that someone wasn’t intimidated by her. 

“You’ll wish you didn’t.” And with that, she stood back up, skimming her eyes over Calista again before walking away, grabbing Damien by the wrist dragging him away from his little glare-off with Harry.

“Wow…” Niall, spoke up, looking around to his friends, “I hate them.”

“Oh my gods!” Trin gasped, pulling on her friend’s hands, tugging her nearly halfway across the table. “Lis, we’ve got Leaderships in a few weeks, you’re gonna beat her.”

Calista looked to her Trinity in confusion, scrunching her eyebrows together as to what the fuck she was talking about. “Um, what’s Leaderships?”

“It’s basically just ranking everybody in order of first line of defense to last,” Niall explained. 

“So, Harry here is the best male, and Wren takes pride in being the best female, but, I think with a couple weeks of good training, you can knock her right off that fucking pedestal of hers,” Trin continued, smiling with excitement and shaking Calista’s hands vigorously. 

It was a tempting offer. Being new and being the best sure had its perks. But, even though she can’t stand the girl, Calista can’t see herself surpassing Wren. That girl has probably trained her whole life to be where she is, there’s no way a new girl, who didn’t even know this place existed a couple days ago, can sweep in after a few weeks and take that position.

It was tempting, but it was near impossible.

“Trin, I don’t think that’s gonna be possib--”

“A few days ago you didn’t even think this was possible, yet here we are. Anything is possible, plus with help from us, and the fact you’re mother is the goddess of battle strategy, you’re destined to be the best. Right guys?” she turned to the two guys who were caught up in their own conversation, not paying attention to a thing she said.

Niall yelped in pain, his shin burning from the ferocious kick Trin delivered to him. “Wha’ was that for?!”

“Trin, why don’t you just beat her?”

She scoffed at the question in return, “I’ve tried. The bitch is a fucking cheater though, nearly sliced my achilles tendon in two.”

“So--”

“But, it’s time someone else takes a hold of that precious title of hers,” Trin finished, letting go of her friend’s hands now. 

“She’s right,” Harry spoke from beside them, looking away from them and to the corner the couple had resided back into. “Both of them think they run the fucking world, and it’s getting t’be a bit sickening.”

Looking back at the curly haired girl, he smirked, sitting up just a bit straighter, “Whaddya say, love, wanna be the best?”

The first thought that popped into Calista’s mind though, was how the fuck did her life change so much?

[bentenharuki]

When I read HQ, I decided to research a little on volleyball but of course, my knowledge is just a tad bit better than a novice. There are players who are short, the shortest is only 5' and a half? Can you explain why there would be no Hinata or Hoshiumi in real life?

Hi!

I will try to answer everything, hopefully in a comprehensible way.

There are many questions you've asked beside this one so I will try to put it all together, if you don't mind (you remember your asks anyway...so it should work).

For the part where you quote one of my posts where I tell the Horrible Greedy Mangaka (the author whose name I despise) said like he renounced at developing Lord Kags more, it's from one of his final interviews explaining the future careers (?) of all the players he put in the National Team. He said basically regarding the player who should have been the most talented since the start "he's already great, so what else was there to add"? - which is IDIOTIC because no matter how great of a talent/player you are you NEED to best yourself every day. The more talent you have, the higher is the climb you are destined to have (instead Furudate basically let him stay the same or almost the same as he was at 15 years old: IDIOTIC, as I said.

Furudate has no real perception of the greatness in sport so that was just a way to say "I can't understand a thing about superiorly skilled players, so I cannot say anything more about the character I was meant to refer at as a great talent, and therefore let's leave him in the dust and create a protagonist with zero realism and make people (who cannot understand the sport nor appreciate it fully) identify with him. It will bring me way more money than be truthful, and it's gonna work way better than try to understand the real dynamic of a sport."

This is something that I will never EVER forgive him for. He vilified real volleyball and created fake suggestive ideas about it in people who basically have never ever seen a real match and worse, who have never ever PLAYED it for real at decent level. All of this smells so fake to me, it makes me angry STILL to this day if I rethink about it.

About the height of players, (hoshiumi, Hinata, both under 1.80 by far) sorry, but in no real team of male volley players at ANY good or great level you find people short the way midgets Furudate loves to boast are. This because in modern volley power is the most important quality. It's not even debatable. Shorties are deficient in elevation, weight, strength, power. They will simply get blocked in series, no matter how fast or jumpy they can be. Just take a look at any CEV game, and judge for yourself. In the past 15 years, the heights of team roasters have constantly grown. It's a basic rule which is followed because IT WORKS INFINITELY BETTER AND MORE than any other asset.

Just take a look at the beast roasters in National Teams or in the best volley Leagues in the world (I am Italian, I watch the best players play every year here) and midgets are nowhere to be seen. The more volley develops, the more height and power do count and amount.

Furudate tried to tell a fairy tale: but sport is not a fairy tale: sport is a real path of real, quite heroic and symbolic life.

To play is one thing, if you are short. To play at the greatest levels is another thing. Furudate has so little knowledge of real volley he dared to claim a beach volley training can best your skills. FALSE to the highest. Beach volley is a funny thing, it's an athletic circus, but there are NO connections with the depth and the complexity of indoor volleyball there. Strategy, which is a vital part of indoor volleyball, and which exists because you have MANY players and possible way to make them interact, disappear fatally in outside volley. And this makes the two games like night and day.

Schemes in beach volley are dire at best, and although it is a funny and entertaining thing to play and watch, the ball, the court/ball/net dimensions, the rules are DIFFERENT and there is NO way a real top volley player would ever switch between there and the beach, or viceversa. They are two different sports with little in common, and maybe some help in training there can be found for female players (slower and less athletic than their male counterparts and by definition less powerful and strong), but in male volleyball the skills you can hone by training in beach are virtually ZERO. Especially when you are a top player. You can relax and have fun with beach volley, but it's like having a drink in the heat when you wanna relax. It's nothing like the real thing you wanna do, it's just a break you get some fun in.

Furudate then put everybody and their sisters in the National team, at the end of his AWFUL "final arc" (as i call it, the Fairy Tale Midgets Arc). PATHETIC. It was also blatantly absurd to have as many players as he had become pro. Even in smallest leagues the percentage of players who transition from high school playing to pro are like 1,02%.

In HQ there would be like 20% or something, even around 25% if you count smallest and foreign leagues. It's all part of the fairy tale I despise.

If you want to create a para-sport manga then create a fake sport: one like Blue Lock or Prince of Stride: or you start by putting alienating elements like superpowers (like in Kuroko No Basket, which is clear is only inspired by basket, then it goes for the superpower route but OPENLY), and you stop trying to fake realism in your opera.

They are all valid choices: all, ban the one The Greedy Mangaka did: pursue the money of delusional, not educated readers honing them into believing what they are following and reading avidly is somehow REAL and near to reality of the sport the manga had to depiction and describe.

I call this lying to the incapacitated and I will forever despise ALL of the way HQ became after Inarizaki arc (the best arc of the series, the one that gave me hopes before everything turned out impossibly wrong).

I won't even mention the hate I felt when one of my top characters became even a Country Traitor just to keep having 1264322 setters around.

In NO Country more than Japan to have one of the best characters become a foreigner would have felt wrong and fake.

Japan has a strong, very strong Country Pride and to ditch it to play a sport instead than fight INSIDE your Country to become a valid choice is like calling yourself weak, scared and hypocrite.

And Furudate The As*s dared to make Oikawa (my Oikawa!!!!! The Prideful, talented Oikawa) THIS kind of loser, ditching his roots because he didn't feel he could have reached National Team in Japan??????

PATHETIC.

Fake, Offensive, Pathetic.

No real Japanese would have ever ditched his Nationality to play. Not a single one (because in Japan to become a foreign citizen you RENOUNCE to your first Nationality and this is more or like a capital sin in Japanese mentality. And Oikawa became THAT kind of traitor. Unbelievable. Such a beautiful, deep character trashed to become a belittling loser so into his own world and frustration he couldn't manage to fight for his own place in his own home country. All this is so profoundly anti- sport I can't even detail it. It's just a void of real sport spirit and again it makes me angry any time I think of it.)

Ok... I think I wrote a lot (sorry... I didn't expect this to be this long but it's above than me. If I start to think about this all, I still as bitter and angry and disappointed as ever...).

I hope some of your questions were answered and I hope in a readable way... I am sure I filled this with typos and mistakes but I always write in a rush and it's not easy when this is my third language ... sigh!

Have a nice time and hopefully I made myself clear and cleared your doubts on this all.

Hugs, K.

[purplesurveys]

1159

survey by -egocentricity-

Describe the last time you...

Went swimming: It was in Nasugbu with Angela, Sofie, and Gab nearly a couple of years ago. We wanted to go to a nearby beach before the semester started, so we planned the trip at the last minute and literally just right after we enrolled for our classes.

Went on a date: It was at BGC at this nice, romantic French restaurant. Then as we headed back to the car we spotted a jazz bar that had a live band performing, so we took a detour there to have drinks and nachos.

Were hurt by someone you love: My mom says a lot of hurtful things all the time I’ve stopped keeping track of them and letting them affect me too much, but I’m sure she’s done it recently.

Did something nice for yourself: I got myself a night lamp to improve the ambience in my room and make it feel even more homey. The lamp I had before it was just something I borrowed from my parents and it had white light, so it didn’t feel the most calming. The one I have right now emits this soft yellow shade that makes me feel infinitely more relaxed.

Did something nice for someone else: I ordered KFC at like 1 AM last Wednesday because I was feeling hungry and there was nothing at home that could meet my cravings, and aside from getting orders for my parents I also got a Zinger for my delivery driver as a way to thank him and lift his spirits for working that late into the night.

Were injured: I always sport some sort of scratch or gash somewhere on my body these days from playing with Cooper. This morning I got a new wound on one of my knuckles since he was pulling on his leash way too hard when I was walking him.

Went to the hospital: I had to take blood and urine tests last May to figure out what was wrong with me since I had been sick for a week by that point. That was also during the peak of the pandemic, so there was a lot of anxiety about me catching Covid. It turned out to be a UTI, and even though that technically sucks the whole family was relieved it wasn’t Covid.

Understood something that previously confused you: I had my dad explain to me how buying and bidding for houses works. Hahaha I am sooooo not equipped to be a fully-functioning adult.

Faked sick to get out of going to class: I don’t think I ever did this. If I had wanted to skip class, I just skipped it.

Hung out with your friends: I went to Perfy’s with 7 friends shortly before it shut down for good as a result of the pandemic. We had some beer and bar chow, and to be completely frank it felt quite nice to have that one night where things felt normal again, as ignorant as it was. We vaped until we were dizzy and some of them smoked too much that the smell ended up clinging to me and my clothes, but luckily I got home when my whole family was already in their rooms so no one was able to smell me.

Met someone new: There’s this girl who recently got onboarded to one of our client brands and we started working with her about a week or two ago. She’s honestly been a bit over the place, but I’m giving her the benefit of the doubt because she’s fairly new at a particularly hectic time in her workplace. My first impression of her was that she gave such a strong UP vibe so I looked her up on Facebook, and it turns out we went to the same college and the same high school.

Did something that you were afraid to do: A couple of months ago I had a one-on-one video call organized by the CEO of my employer so that she could get to know me better. She was super nice and listened attentively to my answers to all her questions, but it was easy to tell she wanted to see what I could bring to the table and how well I could mesh with the team especially since I’ve never met her and everyone else in person, so I made sure my social game was maxed out for those 15 minutes haha.

Did something you promised you would never do: I vaped literally half an hour ago. I never expected to form a habit out of it especially after being vehemently against any form of smoking for most of my life. Not particularly proud of it but then again I’m here for a good time and not a long time lmao.

Regretted something: Lazada had this huge app-wide sale last week and their Hydro Flasks were like ₱600 cheaper, but I didn’t buy it because I was feeling stingy that day haha. Now the products are back to their normal price and they’ll probably never get to be that cheap again :( There’s another sale happening tomorrow but the discounts aren’t as big, but I’ll probably place an order this time.

Went shopping: I went to H&M last January to get Andi a late Christmas present. I asked Leigh what they would appreciate as a gift, and she told me they’d wanted to start experimenting with feminine clothes so I got them a nice black skirt and this really elegant dress (that I honestly wanted for myself). I heard they cried once they opened the paper bag, and making people cry with the gifts you get them will always be one of the best feelings ever haha.

Asked someone out/were asked out: Idk, it was 5 years ago and nothing I want to remember anymore.

Broke up with someone: I’ve never broken up with someone.

Had someone break up with you: It was terrible and the stuff of all my nightmares combined, and it happened in the middle of an already-shitty month to boot so I had little hope for myself to come out of it alive. I had everything planned and ironed out and all that was left was for me to leave. 

It’s been 7 months and I’ve never felt emotionally and mentally better and healthier.

Were heartbroken: I follow this animal rescue NGO on Facebook and they regularly post about dogs who’ve lived through awful situations and need urgent care and forever homes to live in. Fortunately the page has a wide reach and regularly gets support, and I try to donate to their bank account as often as I can.

You were angry with someone: Haven’t directed my anger towards anyone in a while.

You felt "in love" with someone: It was during the time I was still reeling over the breakup and was caught in an endless loop of still being in love with them and forcing myself to finally detach.

You wanted something unrealistic: I was at the rooftop this morning and I could feel the temperature getting warmer every hour, and when I finally couldn’t tolerate the heat and was forced to go back indoors I felt super annoyed because all I want is to live somewhere with a chilly climate all-year round hahaha UGH

You made someone angry: It was when I spilled a tiny drop of soup onto the dining table and my mom had a complete meltdown about it. After 89457843957 years of her getting mad at First World Problems I wasn’t intimidated by her anymore, but it still irked me at how something so little can piss her off so I just decided not to speak a word for the rest of the night.

You made someone's day: I hope I made my delivery driver’s night when I got him his burger as a surprise. I hold so much respect and appreciation for them considering they’ve been working very hard to get people’s goods to their doorsteps in the midst of a global pandemic.

Tried something new: When I bought my lamp it was the first time I got something to decorate my room. I usually spend all my money on food, so that was a nice change to try out.

Tried your best: I always try my best at work and to make each day more improved than the last.

Didn't try at all: A couple of nights ago I asked my dad to light up my scented candle and he challenged me to try lighting up a matchstick by myself for once. I was all primed and ready to go, but backed out at the last second :(( I told him there was a big chance I could freak out, drop the lit matchstick. and set something in the dining room (where we were) on fire, and that’s when he gave up and just lit it up himself hahaha

Got nothing for your efforts: I’d gladly refer you to my big waste of a 6-year relationship.

Had a serious talk with someone: I always have deep conversations with Andi and they’ve been about various topics over the last few months.

Told someone how you really feel: It was when Bea scheduled a quick one-on-one catch-up call with me to check up on how I was doing with work and if I was doing okay with the everyday craziness of it all. But I didn’t say anything grave; I just told her I honestly like the work we do and that it’s nice that it keeps me excited everyday, so there’s little to complain about.

Hid what you felt from someone: One of my co-workers, Denise, is honestly a little challenging to work with. I always have to pick up after her and remind her of stuff we need to do together, and even Bea has let a few comments slide between us about how difficult she can be. But considering I’m a lot newer than her and we’ve never met each other I’ve stayed quiet for now.

Took something that didn't belong to you: I got the matchbox from my parents’ room to ask one of them to light up the aforementioned scented candle I have.

Borrowed something from someone: I borrowed one of my sister’s cords the other evening to charge my vape pen.

Lost a game: This was when my orgmates and I played a couple Jeopardy games over Zoom about a month ago and I lost to Robin.

Won a game: Not sure, I don’t really play a lot of games.

Told someone you love him/her: Jo, after she shared that she tested positive for Covid.

Went on vacation: It’s been a year and a half and the world has changed a lot since then, but my family and I went to Tagaytay and Cavite for a quick weekend getaway; it was Tagaytay on Saturday then we drove to another hotel in Cavite the next day. We played Heads Up, ate Jelly Belly jellybeans, had a lot of nice food, took some walks, but then I also had to work on a Powerpoint in between because I had a presentation that was due that Monday lol.

Went on a roadtrip: Last January we drove to Tagaytay (again) for my dad’s 50th birthday. Before heading to our accommodation we had brunch at La Creperie where we happened to be seated beside Larry Gadon – bleck – and his wife. Then we headed to the condo unit where we stayed the night at, ordered a samgyupsal set, and I watched GMM’s Let’s Talk About That into the night until I fell asleep.

Flew on a plane: That would be over two years ago and it was during our vacation to Bicol. That also marks the last time I ever spoke a word to my brother, because on our way home my family got into a heated argument and he ended up slapping me in the face. I don’t tolerate physical acts of violence, and especially not from someone younger than me, so I was more than glad to cut ties with him moving forward.

Were annoyed with a family member: My mom is politically incorrect 24/7, and it grinds my gears 24/7.

Took something too far: Idk, maybe cutting off ties with Gab. A part of me wanted to reconnect at some point, once I’ve healed; but I’ve reached a point in my life where that doesn’t seem so necessary anymore. Life just works funnily sometimes, I guess. I haven’t completely cut her off; we’re still mutuals on Twitter (though she also never uses it so it barely counts), and also still Facebook friends (though I’ve unfollowed her and I’ve also blacklisted her from seeing my posts – thank god for that feature), so now it’s really just a matter of pressing some buttons and finally disconnecting for good.

Gave up too soon: I wanted to learn riding a bike during the early days of the pandemic last year, but I gave up after like two days of being unsuccessful.

Listened to a band you had not heard before: I started exploring some of BTS’ music earlier this week after weeks of just knowing Dynamite.

Judged someone: Some of the bloggers that I regularly correspond with for work, and who’ve recently added me on Facebook, have opinions I don’t necessarily agree with.

Asked a "stupid question": I ask a lot of newbie questions at work that maybe some people would consider dumb, but I’d rather get answers to do my work correctly than take guesses and end up doing the wrong thing.

Got "a stupid answer": Not sure.

Took a picture of something/someone: I recently took a photo of my work desk setup so I could show off my new pretty lamp, hahaha.

Told a lie: I told my mom my Hydro Flask is still with Angela and that I should be getting it soon, but I really lost it a few years ago and would have to buy a new one.

Told the truth: Idk I tell the truth all the time.

[project-ohagi]

Keigo Takami ღ Hawks x Reader {Kingdom AU}

Buy me a coffee!! <3

Why do birds deem it necessary to shout during such early hours?

The matutinal chirping was that which your mind vehemently claimed to hate, and yet you couldn’t get enough - you remained unsatiated, even as the chorus reached its most deafening. Your hunger for the oddly-mellisonant noises grew with each passing day.

It tells me that they're still alive. When did I begin longing for such an ensemble, so spirited…so within my grasp? Perhaps they hide the key to my cage…to this prison of self-spite and deceit? If only I could capture one. I would ask it all that I wish to know - its infinite knowledge of my future…if I am doomed to live. The birds here…they’re so, incredibly free. I yearn to have that same liberty.

With a drawn-out sigh, you added, That's but a mere fantasy, a childish day-dream. It is certain to disappear with time. These shackles are the curse of my birth. Freedom…true freedom…it will forever evade me.

Your untamed, maudlin delusions penetrated every crevice of your being, but as you rose from a half-slumber, you pushed them down. Shifting your focus to something real, something imminent, was the best course of action. So, exhaustion-glazed eyes ghosted over the makeshift bed to which you had confined yourself. Or, more accurately - to which the villagers had confined you. This was far from a gesture of concern for your health, although disease was often rife amongst the peasantry. No…this was the result of their refusal to so much as acknowledge your existence. Only work managed to rouse you. Work - the very warrant for your ostracization. In a way, you supposed that was valid. You never wanted such unsavoury jobs, but how else were you to make ends meet…especially now?

What if I simply abandoned my post? Would I be punished? Executed? Either way, I am deserving of it. If only death could cleanse me of my sins…Is food off the menu today, too? It is becoming nigh-impossible to find enough, even for a single day. No-one sells to me anymore. Not even that kindly old woman near the village outskirts…

"Is that my fate then, to die of starvation?" Despite the indifference lacing your tone, you prepared for an onslaught of tears.

This world, infinitely cruel and rotten as you perceived it, seemed to loath your very essence. It slowly whittled you to the bone, rejected your abject cries and those pitiful, helpless tears. Yet, not a soul threw you pity - not even an ounce. Nothing should have tethered you to this ground, this filthy house, where the faintest illumination of a flickering candle was all the hope you could afford. Though, lack of money was never truly the problem. No…the fault lay solely with the villagers. And the King. If only you hadn't been threatened to assume your mantle. If only this was the fantasy - this bloodthirsty kingdom, the ignorance to such plights as yours, the senseless slaughter of your parents…

By my own hands. I cannot masquerade as the victim forever. They already haunt me…the ghosts. All the ghosts…

"It would be a fitting end, I suppose." The breaths that tore apart your lungs failed to distract your wandering gaze.

It fell suspiciously upon an unopened scroll, donning a sickeningly-familiar wax seal. Had a member of the Royal Guard crept inside, under the cloak of night? It appeared that even the most highly-trained soldiers in the land would wretch at the thought of an encounter with you, awake and alert. How utterly ridiculous. A young, sullen-faced girl couldn’t exactly compete with the King's personal guards, even if you were able to wield an axe. Your defeat would be anticipated, underwhelming. You strolled over to examine the parchment, malnutrition forcing your slowed movements. It was a fresh order, you wagered, straight from the King himself.

I had hoped to be proven incorrect. No bother. Well…perchance with another few coins, I could convince a poor villager to sell me some bread? A nice loaf, maybe?

Your stomach grumbled its agreement. 'Kill or be killed' wasn’t simply an idle comment, after all - it encompassed the very nature of humanity.

"Brutish." A susurrant sound tumbled from your lips. "But I am no better."

If honesty must prevail in this world, then I shall attest to being so much worse.

The scroll's seal broke with ease, leaving you to unfurl the paper and trace the words, bile endeavouring all the while to scale the walls of your stomach. The name engraved in black ink was a recognisable one. He, alongside his unfledged son, worked as palace servants. The latter was especially flighty, always being reprimanded by his seniors. This, you had witnessed on occasion. A fleeting glance was all you ever allowed yourself, and that name never once caused your skin to crawl so horribly, as it did now.

"XXXXX Takami…a thief?"

Is there no justification? I wonder if he truly stole anything. The King is most likely in the mood to watch an execution today. If so, then this will not be the first instance of an innocent dying by my hand.

As guilt poured from your eyes, silent and crystalline, you muttered, "I cannot profess to be his champion. Nor even my own…Why must my resolve be so frail?"

Why must cruelty reign supreme?

Your reflections were quelled by the searing pain exuding from the mark that tainted your wrist. It was customary for executioners, but designs varied. You were unfortunate enough to be branded with something simple, yet imbued with the weight and meaning of an entire people. It was as though your words, however few, and your actions, spoke for all your kin. It was curious, as the symbol was the runic ᛒ, although Japan was far removed from any other civilisations. The deplorable truth of the matter, was that it solidified your societal status. It served as a reminder that you wouldn’t ever escape from the Burakumin - the lowest class. The peasants. The dirty, the untrustworthy, the sinners. You couldn’t cover it up. To do so might be counted as treason, fighting against the authority of the crown. You would be executed, just as your parents, and now…as this conceivably blameless man.

…This father.

You would so disturb the structure of a family?

Have I any other choice?

Life never presented you with choices, different paths to follow, to branch off from the main narrative. The door to your cage was securely chained. The key, presumably, rested within the bulging pocket of the King. Your sleight-of-hand skills weren't masterful enough to allow the evasion of every soldier at the King's command, so you couldn’t ever move to grasp self-sovereignty. That worthless tyrant had to understand this. He likely laughed at the image. You couldn’t simply neglect your responsibilities, for this one man, for his youthful son…

What use are sentiments, if only to distract from this morbid reality? Their family cannot be satisfied, if he would stoop to thievery. Criminals cannot proceed unpunished.

"Though they can, and often do." The glimmer of remorse reflecting in your eyes alluded to the ever-dwindling fire in your soul - you couldn’t comprehend your position…why you still lived, after everything - every rolling head, every spatter of blood, every jeer and taunt…

Between the burning of the brand on your wrist, and the nipping of the tears in your (e/c) irises, you decided that a moment of respite was needed. You perched on the unsteady floor, clutching both face and wrist. Why was this happening now? Morning-tide shouldn't be harder than any other time - least of all early afternoon, when families would gather around the execution grounds, blithely chatting away and gnawing on bread, or the rare sliver of cheese that almost compelled you to salivate. Honestly, it was a miracle you could still hold the axe aloft, in spite of your meagre diet. You sighed, rehearsing the time of this newest dispatch. Three hours…that was hardly fair. It required far longer to mentally prepare for such a killing. This man had a wife, surely, and a son! As you defended against the sick feeling nestling in your stomach, the repugnant sight of ebony in the corner of the room caught your attention. You wished so desperately to sacrifice that garb to the flames of Hell. You couldn’t bear to look at it, let alone adorn it.

Why do I bother to wear a mask, when they all recognise me?

Oh, of course…"It veils my tears."

And also, perhaps, my rugged appearance. I cannot even claim to resemble a respectable young woman. The villagers would sleep easier without beholding such an unsightly face. I should pay thanks the gods that the cloak disguises my figure, as well.

Broad shoulders and pancake-like breasts plagued your waking thoughts, but they were well-shielded underneath the dark, flowing robe you had just picked up. You utterly despised them. With less than three hours before the execution, you slipped on the cloak, but left the mask. It couldn’t be properly washed by hand - the blood of hundreds, innocents and sinners alike, had seemed to seep into the very essence of the fabric. It repulsed you, and yet an odd warmth accompanied it. Maybe…because it was the only constant in your life? The only thing providing purpose, whether you desired it or not? The fragrance was familiar, sometimes comforting on a particularly savage night. It nearly stung.

Just as a sorrowful breath escaped your lips, a series of frantic knocks alerted you to the door. Your entire being shuddered, nerves exploding. A bead of sweat rolled down your forehead. If you opened that door now, which now appeared more foreboding, who would you greet? The Captain of the Royal Guard? That once-lovely elderly woman, who used to sell you bread? A tax collector? A thief? Nobody in their right mind rapped on the door of an executioner…an outcast. They must have a certain degree of battle prowess, then. Shakily, you started towards that wooden entrance.

The knocking never ceased. In fact, was it intensifying? Whoever this was, they were desperate.

There would be nowhere for them to hide, in this small house.

The door swung open, revealing a dishevelled young man.

Is this…him?

The moment his words flooded your ears, the whole world collapsed around you. "Are you the executioner who is going to kill my father?"

You wanted to deny, to beg for forgiveness, but you couldn’t. Instead, with an averted gaze, you responded, "I am afraid so."

"You don't…you don't want to? You aren’t excited about this?" His tone indicated confusion, perhaps even sympathy.

To where did his formalities retreat? What a brazen boy…

You shuffled in discomfort. "I apologise for not taking pleasure in my work."

He looked unsure. "Please don't kill him. He is not thief - it's a lie!"

"That is quite a claim. Do you have any proof?" You didn’t wish to interrogate the poor soul - he was about to lose the greatest role-model he would ever know.

"No…" He stared at the ground briefly, before a fiery determination illuminated his eyes, and he looked back up. "…Would you…would you help me save him? Please?"

Does he assume me a hero? Or a vigilante?...Me?

The idea was half-baked, teeming with flaws. Wasn’t your capture, and subsequent execution, almost inevitable? Clearly, this had been a spontaneous decision, and the consequences floated just outside his mind. You swallowed down any further words. Something about him, something he exuded…pain? Fear? There wasn’t a single spark of confidence twinkling behind those golden eyes, and yet…you felt your heart pounding in compliance. In truth, did you not yearn for such an opportunity? Did you not wish to bellow to the universe, that you were capable of possessing a righteous nature, even at the expense of your life? If you couldn’t save one innocent from your own axe, you would never again begin to dream of redemption. It would set in stone your utter worthlessness.

Paranoid, (e/c) eyes skirted around the boy, searching for any characters of suspect. With a heaviness burrowing amid your heart, you ushered him inside your humble abode. Immediately, he spotted the scroll lying on the table. You made no effort to divert his attention.

After a few moments of tense silence, he spoke. "(L/n) (Y/n)…that your name?"

"Yes, though I rarely hear it anymore."

"Would he be in the dungeons right now? My father, I mean." He was deep in thought, incredibly serious.

Your gaze strayed - this boy was far too ethereal to be viewed by your peasant eyes. "Yes, along with the other prisoners."

"You believe me, don't you?" Shock was evident in his voice.

"Should I not?" You questioned, still refusing to glance his way.

A low chuckle tore from his lungs. "You should. How long do we have? We need a proper plan, right? Unless you're leaving me to do this alone. Something tells me you aren't willing to do that…"

"Alone, you would achieve nothing."

"Haha, well, behind every man there's a strong woman, right?" He displayed a closed-eye smile, blinding you for the few, sparing seconds you allowed yourself to witness it.

You couldn’t have realised the crimson hue worming its way on to your cheeks. "Absolutely not."

"Why're your replies so short? You not like talking to me, or something?"

Is he forgetting his reason for being here, so quickly?

"What of this plan? What of your father's fate?" You asked, hoping to remain on topic.

He chuckled again, sourly this time. "The plan…I was thinking, would it be possible to sneak him out of the dungeon? Or…replace him with someone else? I know it's horrible, and I feel awful about it, but…"

"The first one would never be possible. If we entered as two, and left as three, would you expect not to be questioned?" You bit your lip in contemplation. "On foot, journeying to the castle will take an hour. No matter our plan, we have to leave soon."

"You're right…of course you're right." He smiled, crookedly. "Is it bad to say I hate that?"

Shaking your head, you muttered, "Once in a while, the prisoners will wear masks, to shield from the jeering eyes of those in the crowd."

"So…if we had someone with a similar figure…" He trailed off.

Is this…a choice? Do I really have the option to save someone? To do a modicum of good, for once in my life? I…I have to...I cannot tear apart this family. I cannot accept that responsibility.

"Me."

The concerned expression painting his face was replaced with one of terror, of guilt. Clearly, this was an unexpected turn of events, and he opened his mouth, about to protest. He was likely to spew some nonsense regarding being young, throwing your life away…but you would remain resolute. You wouldn’t waver - not on such an important matter. As the years slowly trickled away, you had already reached a conclusion about your life, about your future. You reasoned that it wasn’t worth all the hassle, all the blood, sweat and tears. It wasn’t worth anything. So…why bother? Why bother living it, only to be thrashed around, ripped to shreds and then eventually killed, anyway? You adored nothing of yourself. You adored nothing of anyone. Without a meaning to your life, weren't you simply a husk? A broken shell of a once-pure, youthful girl?

"You?" His voice was quivering, as if he was infinitely opposed to your proposition.

A single, solemn nod confirmed his query.

"But…" He managed, trying to find a different solution. "…aren’t you the executioner? And…why does it have to be you? Can't we find someo-"

"It should be me." You cut him off, desperate to put this behind you. "I am not the only executioner. The other one…I have no doubt he will assist us, voluntarily."

All his dreadful emotions clogged his throat. The words wouldn’t exit seamlessly. "Why you? Tell me why…"

Your sigh was drawn-out, heavier than all the previous ones. "I can bear this world no longer, Takami. This job…even this house…everything is a cage, a prison. I cannot continue to live this way. I need you to understand, and respect my decision."

If not for the dire circumstances, a blush would have exploded on his face; you referred to him by name. Though…he couldn’t fathom the idea of you being separated so soon after meeting. For years, he had watched you, silently admiring all your adorable little quirks. All the features you despised, he loved with the passion of a thousand suns. To him, you weren't any less than human…no, in fact, you were a goddess, sent from the Heavens to bewitch him, to make him swoon, all while erecting an ignorant façade. He spent hours upon hours, mostly during nighttide, wondering, praying, that you had taken note of his presence…that you saw him, as you glided around the castle. He wished so desperately to be your swain, but despite being little more than a peasant boy himself, he still held the higher title. He knew of your job, but he witnessed your anguish. He observed the unrelenting tears that dripped down your face. He knew you were hurting.

Was he honestly now granting assent to your death?

"Keigo." He suddenly made a grab for your hands, feeling them callous and trembling slightly. "My name…it's Keigo."

You nodded, plunging into uncertain waters. "Keigo…"

"Please call me that, every time you address me, from now until…" His head fell; was this really happening?

Was he truly unable to stop you? Unable to change your mind? Even as this thought rocketed around his brain, he knew the truth. He couldn’t ever hope to stop you. It was clear - your decision was final.

He waited until you nodded again. "We should probably go now."

No response came, but none was necessary. The two of you ran, bounding towards the castle, side-by-side. You were determined - Keigo and his father would live. In this cold, cruel world, they would flourish…they would become something. And you would watch this, his adventure…from another plane. Perhaps it was Hell, perhaps Heaven, perhaps neither. Either way, you wouldn’t let this be the end. If you had the chance to keep walking by his side, even in death, then you would welcome it with open arms. You wouldn’t shy away from it, from providing him with security - you could ward off all the negative energy, all the malign spirits, threatening to cause him harm. You would be there.

Even in death.

The courtyard approached. Tugging on his sleeve, you directed him to a large, metal door, complete with padlocks and some ominous-looking scratch marks. So far, nobody seemed to have paid you any mind. You thrust the key into the lock, hoping that the sound of metal against metal wouldn’t attract too much unwanted attention. Keigo was fixated on the patrolling guards, who were thankfully more interested in showing off their swords to the noblewomen. You slipped inside, unnoticed. Awaiting you was Keigo's father, alongside a few others, mostly unconscious. From severe beatings, you presumed.

"(Y/n)! What is he doing here?"

You shushed him. "Shinya…I need to call in a favour."

"I have a bad feeling about this." He pointed to the two males, now attempting to comfort each other. "Does it involve them?"

He managed to unlock the shackles, so easily?

"Yes. You must listen to me - I am begging you."

He was hesitant, but replied, "Alright. What do you need?"

"I need you to execute the criminal in my steed. This, I cannot do." You answered, pouring your heart into the words.

"The criminal…" He paused. "…You are not speaking of Takami, are you?"

You shook your head. "I am afraid not."

"Then…" He sighed, as the truth dawned. "…You are speaking of yourself."

"Indeed."

A glint of sorrow lingered in his eyes. "Are you certain? You cannot recover from death."

"I am certain, beyond question." There was no hesitance in your voice, no doubt…not even a hint of anxiety.

You sounded free. At long last, you sounded free. Finally, you could dictate which path you took, and when it all ended. To object your wish now…Shinya couldn’t imagine the guilt. Forcing his heart to agree was no uncomplicated task, and he wasn’t likely to cease grieving for many moons, but…he couldn’t deny you. He couldn’t strip you of what little serenity you were able to feel, in this moment. He was already dressed in his executioner's garb, anyway. Nobody would recognise him…not until everything was over. The head probably wouldn’t be checked, either. Not for a while. By that time, Keigo and his father should be liberated, freed from the clutches of the evil King Enji Todoroki. Hopefully, they could settle within the boundaries of land of King Toshinori Yagi, or All Might, as most affectionately named him.

That loathsome, ebony robe slipped from your body, and Shinya presented you with some smaller, dirtier clothes. You didn’t mind. In fact, you relished in it. Finally, finally...something was happening on your terms. You would die, on your terms, not by the instruction of the King. And…even though it signalled the end, the extinguishing of your life…you couldn’t have been happier, in that moment.

"(Y/n)…" Your young accomplice whispered, half-adoring, half-fearful. "…Do you really intend to do this? Isn't there anything I can say, to stop you?"

What sort of…no, that would be giving himself false hope. Your intentions were crystal-clear. He couldn’t sway you. Before a single word fell from your lips, he took a chance, he grasped at straws. He did something for which he had waited a lifetime…something that ignited a passionate flame within both your hearts.

He kissed you.

Time, obligations, fate…everything ceased to exist. Your lips danced together, like they were created for that exact purpose. It felt natural…It felt right. When you parted, gazes burning into one another, everything clicked into place.

"I will always be with you, Keigo. I swear, not even death will do us part." The words you uttered…they weren't scripted, weren't rehearsed, but…maybe they had forever nestled on your tongue.

Maybe it was something I always longed to say?

A sad, little smile perched on his lips. "I know, and I will always look for you. I will see you in everyone…in everything. I will be yours, until the very end."

"I wish you would live…I wish you would marry." Your whispers caressed his ears, and he shivered.

"But you know I won't."

How things progressed so far, you knew not. A loud bell-toll, a harbinger of death, echoed across the castle. This was the end. You captured his lips again, swiftly, and then you pushed him away. He couldn’t be allowed to witness such a tragedy. He looked about to cry, about to compromise this entire plan. You placed a finger in front of your mouth, as a reminder. You wanted this. You had always wanted this. Shinya donned the mask, but you saw his strife, the melancholy swimming in his eyes. You smiled. You smiled at Shinya, at Keigo and his father, and at the glaring sun, as you were led out, into the courtyard. The mask obscured your vision, but it would have been difficult not to realise how brightly the sun was shining.

I am certain that it will shine brightest when the axe is at my neck.

In spite of the agonising loss, the newfound frigidity of his heart, Keigo ran, his father in tow. Nothing would tempt him to glance back. Nothing could. Your promise, your wish for him…all except the marriage, he would honour. To be caught now, imprisoned, killed…your bodies would never again find comfort in each other, for there was a separate, less well-kept burial space for people of the Burakumin. If he was captured, he wouldn’t be buried with you. And your spirit might wander eternally, never finding him, never achieving peace.

So, he continued to run, tears cascading from his eyes. It seemed merely a second, but the reality was hazy. He was panicking now, whispering, then screaming at the top of his lungs. He knew it was idiotic, he knew it was a death sentence, but he was lost...so, hopelessly lost.

"Father! Father, where are you? Answer me, please!"

That wasn’t the man with whom his body collided. His tears were incessant, stinging.

This…this was a Royal Guard.

In an instant, he shattered all your hopes…all your dreams. A crow, no…perhaps three crows, flew close, carried by the gentle wind. Keigo collapsed, exhaustion, shock and unadulterated grief stabbing at his heart. Your head had just rolled…hadn’t it?

[Word Count: 4128]

[gothic-safari-clown]

The Mind’s Power Over the Body

Part Twelve: It’s Time

Story summary: They only ever had each other. It had been that way since high school, ever since Elianna transferred to dreary Arlen and took Jonathan under her wing. They go separate ways for college, and when they're reunited at Arkham Asylum professionally, Elianna comes to find that they've both changed during their time separated. Can she look past the promise of danger and stay by Jonathan's side as they slide further and further into the darkness while she grapples to come to terms with the truth about herself? Can she accept what needs to be done in order to hold onto the only person who holds any meaning in her life? This is a very self-indulgent AU that draws from several different canons of the DCU and ignoring others, starting in the Batman Begins Nolanverse. This will follow the plot of the movie, although the timeline has been very slightly tweaked.

Part One / Part Two / Part Three / Part Four / Part Five / Part Six / Part Seven / Part Eight / Part Nine / Part Ten / Part Eleven

Word count: 2524

Trigger warning for needles and toxin-induced self harm. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" Jonathan asked from the kitchen for the third time in two days. Elianna rolled her eyes; she was getting sick of this conversation. "I think you're the only person who would do it voluntarily."

"You did it," she pointed out nonchalantly, around a mouthful of ice cream. She hoped he was making dinner; the dessert wouldn't hold her over forever. The day before, the two had visited her apartment ("why do you have so many plants?" "I don't know, but I'm glad I do, the air quality here is garbage.") to retrieve some perishables from the kitchen so that they didn't have to go grocery shopping.

"I did it for research. I didn't have a choice at the time. You do."

"Okay, look," El stood from the couch and joined him in the kitchen. "The chance of learning how to break down fear is just too promising to pass up," she said earnestly. "If there is even the slightest possibility of a positive outcome, I have to do it. Since I was attacked, I've just been getting more and more paranoid, and I thought it would go away once we started using it on Zsasz, but it hasn't. And paranoia is just going to turn into anxiety, which is going to turn into fear, and I just can't handle that." Jonathan opened his mouth to speak, only to be interrupted by Elianna.

"I know that there are better ways to prevent that, but if I'm going to be joining you on this project anyway, then I should get an idea of what I'm in for in case of any accidents! I mean, I appreciate that you're worried, but I just don't understand why you don't think I can do this."

Jonathan sighed and rubbed his forehead, leaning against the counter; he knew that she was right, but...

"Because I don't know what it will do to your psyche. When I built up my immunity, it wasn't on purpose, and we have no way of knowing if it will do the same for you." El mulled it over, carefully considering what he had to say.

"I understand. But like I said, would you rather me be exposed here, in a controlled, safe environment, or on accident at a time when it really matters? It's almost guaranteed to happen anyway, so I still think that I should at least know what to expect." She reiterated resolutely. "We're doing this."

Jonathan saw the firm determination in her eyes and knew that at this point, there was no way to talk her out of it. If he didn't expose her to it, she would do it herself, and the results could be infinitely worse than if he just went along with it.

But that didn't mean that he had to be happy about it.

"Fine." He lifted himself from the counter and turned to continue what he had been doing before—making dinner, I knew it! El put her ice cream away before sitting on the counter, swinging her legs a little. "I know you're bored, but do you have to...hover?"

"I don't have anything else to do! If you have any ideas, I'd be happy to hear them."

"You could go out or something; I don't know. Look at you, go to any bar you don't even need to take any money. Someone would cover your tab." He sounded almost bitter. What's that about?

"Yeah, that's a great idea. When I get murdered, then you wouldn't have to give me the toxin." She shot back.

"I thought you had a guardian angel."

"Oh yeah, I forgot about that guy. I wonder what he's up to."

"I don't care." God, what is he so upset about?

"You probably will in a few months. Maybe we should follow the news more closely." Nothing. El let out a short breath. Fine. "I know you don't want to talk about it anymore," she started quietly, "and I'm sorry that I'm making you do it." He didn't turn to look at her or even stop what he was doing when he spoke.

"You don't have to apologize. I understand why you want to do it, and I do want to help. I just wish you had taken the time to think about it before your decision."

"Fine, but I've thought it through now."

"I know. Since you're so sure, we can start tomorrow after work."

"Here?" He nodded.

"You'll want to be comfortable when it wears off, trust me." El smiled and slid off the counter. Satisfied with the way the conversation turned out, she went to take a shower.

"No going back now," She called over her shoulder.

"Wouldn't dream of it."

.xXx.

It was a slow day. A really, really, really slow day.

"Seriously, universe? Today?" El groaned, spinning back and forth in her chair idly. Of all days, why was she only assigned one session today? She had forgotten to check her schedule before leaving the previous day, so she hadn't even known that she could go in late. I hate looking forward to things.

For the time being, she resorted herself to see how fast she could spin her chair without knocking it over and found very quickly that the answer was 'too fast.' Way too fast. Already bored of that, she laid her head on the desk, trying to think of anything she could do. Finally, she decided to go on a walk, see if she could find Harley or Jonathan.

It took a while of wandering before El finally caught sight of blonde hair crossing the upstairs foyer from the west wing to the east wing. "Harley!" She called after her friend, jogging slightly to catch up. "Hey, how's it going?"

"Real good!" The blonde seemed more excited than usual. "I just got assigned to one of the maximum-security cases!"

"Oh, that's great!" El forced a smile, suddenly very worried about her friend. She had been assigned a max security case with Zsasz based on her work record, and it hadn't exactly ended up well.

"I know! I've been waitin' ages to get a career-making case finally, and I finally got one! I got my first session with her tomorrow." Her?

"Who is it?"

"She goes by Poison Ivy; she's an eco-terrorist. She's got this connection with plants. Apparently, she can control them, and she goes after organizations that harm the environment."

"Well, she sounds like a badass; you'll have to let me know how it goes."

"Of course, I will. They're gonna write books about me." Harley looked at El with bright eyes, and the redhead couldn't help but smile at the thought of her friend's face plastered on a biography all over Gotham.

"Just make sure to be careful okay, those guys are in maximum security for a reason." El found herself subconsciously moving the hair that fell over her forehead, where she would surely have a scar.

"Don't you worry about me, honey. What are you doin' today?"

"Apparently nothing for another few hours." Elianna sighed.

"Aw. Anything interesting?" She shook her head in response.

"I think Jonathan asked them to keep the dangerous ones away from me until I have more experience here. I mean, Zsasz didn't kill me. It's not like I'm helpless, right? I was savvy enough to get away twice." Harley bobbed her head in agreement with a sympathetic look.

"Well, maybe he's right; you're new in Gotham. It might not be a bad idea to let you settle in a while longer."

"Yeah, but now I'm only treating patients with borderline anxiety disorders. Borderline, Harls!"

"Aw," the blonde tsked and patted her friend's arm. "I'm sorry, honey, it'll get better. Oh, shoot!" She checked her watch. "I gotta go, I'm gonna be late. Maybe we should get lunch this weekend, whaddya think?"

"Yeah, that sounds nice. Go on. I'll talk to you later." El sighed as Harley rushed off to her appointment. That didn't last nearly long enough. She was now stuck where she had been before and made her way back to her office.

Who would have thought there would be so little to do in the most notorious asylum in America?

.xXx.

Finally, the end of the day came, but Jonathan's awful speed limit driving made Elianna antsy. She was so close. Besides all of the reasons she had given Jonathan over the last few days, she couldn't help but be curious about what it was like to be under the influence of the fear toxin. Seeing Zsasz's reaction had sparked an interest in the experience, although she couldn't fathom why.

"It's weird, isn't it?" She asked half an hour later as she helped Jonathan put leftover takeout in the fridge.

"What is?"

"Coincidence. Probability. Chaos theory."

"You need to stop watching Jurassic Park. It's turning you into a monster."

"Over my dead body, and you know what I mean." Jonathan closed the fridge as they finished and looked at her expectantly. "Well, my mom and I just happened to move to Arlen, out of all the places we were looking at. Then we happened to move down the road from you, and we had some classes in common. And even after all that, I still could have been really shitty and tormented you, or ignored you, or you could have been successful in keeping me away. Then we still managed to stay in touch after high school from opposite sides of the country, which is super rare, even in friends, and on top of all that we happen to have the same interests, and now here we are working in the same place after all of that, which led to tonight. To the decision I made."

Jonathan considered her words, leaning back against the counter, eventually nodding in agreement.

"It's not too late." He said quietly. "You can still change your mind."

"I'm not having seconds thoughts." El insisted gently, standing next to him and leaning her head against his arm. "Actually, I was thinking about how lucky I am to have this opportunity. Do you know how many people would jump at the chance to confront their fears? To try and fix themselves?

"Yes, I do, and it's not a good thing." El looked up at him, surprised by the empathy. "If no one were affected by fear, then none of this would be possible, and I wouldn't be able to continue my research." El stared at him in incredulous silence before laughing.

"Because that's what it all comes down to. You're really fucked up, honey."

"Look who's talking." He said with a little smile. He couldn't put it off any longer. Scarecrow was ecstatic that Elianna had volunteered for this, and it was giving him a headache. "Come on, let's get started. I'm going to give you a small dose, so hopefully, you'll be able to sleep afterward." El nodded as they straightened up, making their way to the bedroom.

She could hear Jonathan adjusting the bedsheets while she was in the closet, putting on more comfortable clothes. When she came out, he had folded them all to the end of the bed so that she wouldn't get tangled.

"I'm going to say this in advance: shut up." El gave him a confused look as he opened the false bottom of his briefcase and produced a set of four restraint cuffs that were usually attached to the medical beds, at which point she raised an eyebrow. "We needed a way to holds your limbs down so that you don't hurt either of us, just...don't." He said exasperatedly as he began to affix them to the head and footboards. El snorted, with a little smile; there was nothing she could say to make fun of him that Scarecrow probably wasn't saying already.

"Do people...hurt themselves often?" Jonathan nodded.

"Once or twice, they try to gouge out their own eyes, things like that." El swallowed herd, suddenly very glad to have such a thorough friend. "Which reminds me, I didn't think about it earlier, but I do have neighbors. We'll need to find something for you to bite down on; I've also had people bite through their own tongues." At that, El shivered and returned to her duffle bag, where she knew she had packed an old belt.

"How often would you say that happens?"

"Not too much, but it does make a mess, and we sleep here." Despite her sudden nervousness, El laughed softly at the ever-tactful Jonathan Crane. Normally she might be upset with him after that comment, but here she was volunteering for that risk.

She set the belt on the edge of the bed and positioned herself in the middle of the mattress, trying to prepare herself for something from which she didn't have a clear idea of what to expect. Gently, Jonathan lifted her head and slid a pillow underneath; the small act of care made her smile to herself as he continued to secure her wrists and ankles, careful not to tighten the restraints too much.

He took a few extra minutes to prepare the serum, during which she agreed to let him take notes. If they were moving ahead with this anyway, he might as well conduct his research on a new subject.

Jonathan was just about to put the belt in her mouth when El had a sudden thought, turning her face away. "Scarecrow, he's under control? He isn't going to try anything, is he?"

"No. He's excited, but he promised to be good. And he's impressed that you're doing this willingly." Satisfied with the answer, El nodded and let the belt between her teeth, biting down securely.

At that point, Jonathan prepared the syringe with a translucent fluid, flicking the chamber and getting rid of any air bubbles. "This is an old batch, so the effects might be a little less intense than they would normally be." Unable to speak, El nodded. He swabbed clean a patch of skin on her arm and gave her a look, giving her one last chance to change her mind. With no fault in her resolution, he finally pricked her vein and injected the serum into her bloodstream.

The concoction was thick, and El could feel it burning through her veins for only a moment

and then everything took a turn for the worse.

[qjhughes]

Could you write something with Harry based off of Mine by Taylor Swift? Thank You Babes!

Mine

Pairing: Harry Styles x Reader

Word Count: 2,163

Summary: Harry’s the best thing that’s ever been yours.

Warning(s): Mentions of divorce, mom being unsupportive, some arguing, fluffiness, Harry being a literally perfect boyfriend, I think that’s it

A/N: I’ve never done a piece based on a song, so I hope it’s good. I don’t know how I feel about it but I hope everyone enjoys it.

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Request anything you want here but be sure to read my guidelines first!

*

You were in college, working part-time, waiting tables Left a small town, never looked back

He had just been a small town boy, working in a bakery to make some extra money. He’d sing in his free time, not really thinking anything of it. 

He came home one day to his mom telling him that he had an audition for the biggest singing competition show in the UK. 

He didn’t know going in that it would get him out of his town, propelling him to stardom after the show, sending him on tours around the world with the boys that would be his brothers for years to come.

I was a flight risk, with a fear of fallin' Wondering why we bother with love, if it never lasts

You grew up in a home where love wasn’t all that present. Your parents divorced when you were younger, neither of them remarrying. You were taught that the most unreliable thing in life was love. It was something that was unstable. Something that fell apart way too often for it to be relied upon.

I say, "Can you believe it?" As we're lyin' on the couch

As you’re laying on the couch, your head in Harry’s lap, you look up at him and ask, “I can’t believe we made it here, can you?” 

He looks at you for a moment before responding, making sure that his thoughts are thoroughly put together before speaking. “Yeah, I can. I saw you and knew that you’d be my forever.”

The moment, I can see it Yes, yes, I can see it now

You smile up at him, thinking that maybe your mom was wrong to an extent. Yeah, love was unreliable, but Harry wasn’t. Harry was a constant that you were glad to say you had in your life. One that you hoped would be there forever.

He was what made love worth it, what made everything about the uncertainty worth the risk.

Do you remember, we were sittin', there by the water? You put your arm around me for the first time

Your mind drifts back to the first time that he ever took you out, you had gone to a cafe, had a nice dinner (which he refused to let you pay for), and then went to sit down by the lake in your small town.

You remember thinking to yourself that the whole thing was insane. He was in a world famous boy band and you were a nobody. The only reason that he was even in your hometown was because he was there for a tour stop. 

You had only agreed to go out with him because you thought you’d never see him again, never have to be dragged into the hectic lifestyle that comes along with being around Harry Styles.

Oh, were you wrong.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

Ever since your dad had left, you had sworn that you were never going to leave your home, stay close to your mom so that you could take care of her if she ever needed it.

One date with Harry changed your whole outlook on that. Made you realize that there were bigger things than that.

And one conversation with your mom let you know that she had more than enough saved to take care of herself, and that if you really wanted to go be on your own, then she would fully support you.

Of course, at the time you left out one very important detail. You didn’t tell her that you wanted to go out and be with Harry, not leave to be on your own. But you didn’t think she needed to know that. She would have told you to stay, told you that he wasn’t trustworthy, that he would break your heart just like your dad had done to her. And honestly, you didn’t want to hear the speech again.

So, you packed your bags and you went on tour with him when he asked if you wanted to come. You made the split decision to be with him no matter what, because he was the best thing that had ever happened to you, and you were lucky to get to call him yours, so you weren’t going to let him go that easily.

Flash forward, and we're takin' on the world together And there's a drawer of my things at your place

The first time that you had been able to stay in one place for more than a few days came around six months after you had left. The boys were allowed to go home for a couple weeks, chill out, record some new music while staying put.

You hadn't unpacked your stuff since the day that you took it from your mom’s house, so when Harry had offered to let you use the washer and dryer that was now yours as well, you jumped at the opportunity.

When you came back into the room that you could now call yours, he had cleared out half of the drawers and half of the closet so that you could put your stuff up where you needed.

In that moment, you realized that this was real. That he was yours and you were his.

You learn my secrets and you figure out why I'm guarded You say we'll never make my parents' mistakes

He found out why you were so hesitant to leave with him a week or so into being home, when he had asked about when you wanted to see your parents and you had avoided the question, tears automatically popping up in your eyes.

Their divorce wasn’t something you liked to think about. Your dad wasn’t someone you ever talked to, much less talked about (unless it was with your mom), and you were still guilt ridden from not telling your mom about Harry.

He had wrapped you up in his arms, letting you cry until you were ready to talk about it, telling him everything. 

He holds you close the entire time, letting you ramble as he soaks up everything that you say.

He then walks you to bed, pulling you in with him and holding you close, pressing a kiss to your forehead and whispering, “We won’t end up like them. We won’t repeat their mistakes. I promise you, love, we’ll be different.”

With that, your body relaxes enough into his so that you can both fall asleep.

And we got bills to pay We got nothin' figured out

There were times in your relationship when there were things that went wrong, obviously. Every relationship has its issues. But yours weren’t like everyone else’s problems. The bills that you had to worry about weren’t electric and water. 

You had to pay for hotel bills and plane rides and a bunch of other expenses that come with touring the world with him.

There were times when the two of you would fight over it, you being upset and wanting to just stay home so that he didn’t have to pay for anything. So that you could get a job and help pay for some of the things around the house.

He refused, which ended up just making you feel like you were no help to him. It made you feel like you were a bad girlfriend, making Harry pay for everything when you couldn’t even help him out in the slightest.

He sat down with you, though, explained that you were worth more to him than anything else. He didn’t care if you had a job or not, he was lucky enough to not have to worry about you having a job. He’d rather have you on the road with him, having the time of your life, than having to work a nine to five job that you didn’t even really need.

When it was hard to take Yes, yes This is what I thought about

Sometimes, the thoughts would still bother you, so you’d always think back to that day on the lake, the day that started it all, and suddenly, your mood would be a lot better.

Do you remember, we were sittin' there, by the water? You put your arm around me, for the first time You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

It always was when you thought about the simple things with him.

Do you remember all the city lights on the water? You saw me start to believe, for the first time You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

That night, without even knowing it, Harry had made you believe in love. Had made you believe that maybe love was reliable. That maybe you could depend on him. Maybe you could be happily in love with him.

And I remember that fight, two-thirty a.m. 'Cause everything was slipping right out of our hands I ran out, crying, and you followed me out into the street

The two of you had been in Japan with the band, yet another tour stop on the infinite list. You had started an argument over the fact that you were never at home, even though you’d much rather be with him. Besides, you knew his schedule.

Thinking back on it, you have no clue why you even said anything, you had no problem with being on the road with him. You were just being dramatic. It was late, you were tired, and he was the person that was there for you to take your agitation out on.

Your tiny argument had turned into a screaming match, and it had ended with you telling him you were done.

You had left the hotel, walking in the dead of night in a city you had never been to before, and to top it off, you didn’t even speak the language.

He had followed you though, running right out after you, catching up to you and grabbing your arm. He had spun you around to face him and the look on his face made your heart break into a thousand pieces.

Braced myself for the goodbye, 'Cause that's all I've ever known

He looked upset, so much so that you thought he was going to tell you to come get your stuff and then leave. Tell you he’d get you a plane back to your hometown in the morning. 

You were ready for him to pull the plug on you, to tell you that he didn’t love you anymore.

You were prepared for him to prove your mother right.

Then, you took me by surprise You said, "I'll never leave you alone"

He did the exact opposite though, he proved your mother wrong, yet again.

“Come back up, I’m sorry.” He had said, pulling you with him.

He had led you back up to the hotel room, tucking you into bed with him and promising to never leave.

He assured you that night that he loved you, that he never wanted to lose you, and that as soon as the tour was over, he would request a few weeks off.

You let him know that it wasn’t necessary, that you were just overreacting, but he vowed to do so anyway, telling you that he’d rather take a break from touring than lose you forever.

You said, "I remember how we felt, sitting by the water. And every time I look at you, it's like the first time. I fell in love with a careless man's careful daughter. She is the best thing that's ever been mine."

He told you that night before you fell asleep that when things got bad, he thought of the same thing that you did. The same exact memory. Your first ever date. The day that changed his life forever.

You made a rebel of a careless man's careful daughter You are the best thing, that's ever been mine

You realized that night, that no matter what happened, you’d do anything for him. You’d tour with him until you were gray and old if that’s what made him happy. Because he was what made you happy.

Do you believe it? We're gonna make it now And I can see it

You knew for a fact that you and Harry were going to make it when he stood in front of you, telling you that he’d care for you always, and never, ever let the two of you end up like your parents. You believed him so strongly that you didn’t hesitate to look him in the eyes and say “I do.” 

So, now, here you were, your head in his lap, his hand running through your hair, singing you to sleep.

You knew, without a doubt, that as long as you had Harry, you’d be alright. 

*

Permanent Taglist: @spideygirl2003, @jackiehollanderr, @scarletsoldierrr, @thewayilookatbacon, @parker-barnes-af, @lost-in-the-stars03, @kisses-holland, @josiemara, @god-knows-what-am-i-doing, @fanficscuziranout, @akila-stilinski @babebenhardy @write-from-the-heart, @slytherinambitious, @miraclesoflove @tomshufflepuff, @quaksonhehe, @a-different-brand-of-beans

Harry Styles Taglist: @alwayshave-faith, @hufflepuff-always-and-forever, @sucker-09 @just-chillin-out-in-me-box, @macksmedicine, @wendaiii, @theresthingsthatwellneverknow,

[thatransman]

I started this blog forever ago, and it documents so much of our journey together.

It’s mostly just the beginning, it’s the things we started when we first began.

It’s the sleepless nights, the wholesome, fulfilling beginning.

The things we fell over, the things we gave each other, the things we just seemed to fail to achieve when we began.

We were starving, we were out of sorts, we were constantly fighting for a way out of the life that we had been given to rectify the things that the past had caused.

Every single time that I look at these things, I remember our intimate nights. I remember our hurt, our beautiful conversations between two bodies and the bliss of being able to take away the pain, if only for a minute.

I spent so much time, so much energy, making you feel whole, making you feel loved. I loved every single minute of it, I loved showing you my love, and I loved giving you something that no one ever had.

I still love it, I love giving you stability, I love being your confidant, I love that no matter where this life takes us, you’re always my best friend. You’re my baby, you’re my everything, you’re my only person in the world who understands how I feel, even before I do. You’re the only one who knows so much, you’re the only one I ever see my life with, you’re my forever, my infinite, my absolute. And the things that I remember are so fond, so nostalgic, they’re so far away yet so close, so pure, so innocent, so beautiful.

We went to California, we had been together for two weeks, we’d known each other for years. We’d been close without being close. We connected, so deeply, we absolutely loved without judgement, without hesitation, without fear. We both knew the other could be trusted, we both knew things about each other that people who “we just got together!” Just don’t know about each other. We were both exiting relationships, we were both hurt, we both could feel each other’s pain so fresh, so close, and so ready to be healed and I’ve thought on this before, but I think that the pain drew us. It drew us so close, we give, and we give, and being the one that takes is so hard. But we do it for each other. We compliment, we exchange, like a gift from Cupid himself we love through all of the pain. Through having absolutely nothing, through having 10$ and needing a pack of cigarettes or dinner and having to fucking choose. One or the other, you can’t have both! We were broke, we were broken when we started!

Every minute, every second, we spent building.

We built ourselves up, we built each other up.

To living in a tent, to living with our parents, both of ours. They don’t let big dogs into apartments, but fuck it was hard to give that up.

Jobs, all the jobs. You work. I work. Fuck, sleep, repeat.

Depression, weed, fucked up the money. Can’t fix the money. We’re somewhere nice but it’s always empty, full of nice things but we’re never there. So we started somewhere fresh.

We gave in, we did it again. We sleep so bad, we can’t breathe, the house is shit. The memories of something big, pretty, they’re there.

But where were we?

We were working.

We were sleeping.

You were depressed. This wasn’t working.

I always hated the sad you felt, I hate when your happy is so far from you. You want it so bad, you want things to be normal again.

How did we get where we are?

Daddy got a new job. Do you remember when you agreed to me being Daddy for you, little girl?

Things started to get better, we got our hopes up again, maybe someday things would be okay for us. You got a new car, I was so proud that you did, you had something that was yours, something no one else had been able to give you and you keep. And you had worked so hard to make sure you could get it. You deserved it. That and so much more.

We got our hopes up.

I got laid off, everything fell apart.

Everything that had been worked for, everything that we had been so happy to have, was slowly going away because I couldn’t keep up, you couldn’t keep up, we’re fighting.

It’s in my head. It’s so frustrating, it’s so hard, my hands hurt, I can’t blow my nose because the black metal coming out isn’t even close to what mucus should look like and that’s not okay, I can’t do it, I can’t work like that, I can’t stand to be away from you so long, I can’t make ends meet, things get hard. Things are always so hard. I bounce from place to place, I fight. You fight. We fight.

We still fucking made it.

To this point, to where we are now.

We found my job. We found that money doesn’t buy happiness but the man who said that wasn’t fucking poor.

You’ve done so much for yourself, and I am so goddamn proud of you. All that you’ve accomplished, every step you’ve made toward every goal, every little push you’ve given yourself, it makes me so fucking happy that you gave me that chance, over 5 and a half years ago, you gave me the chance to show you the way you were meant to be had. You gave me the chance to appreciate all that your body could give and all that I could give you and I love you so much for it. You always tell me that you’re not “stuck” with me, even if I say it. But you are, forever. I’m so proud of you, for doing the things you’ve needed to for yourself, you make it look so easy and I know it’s not, I know things are hard but you’re so wonderful, you’re so beautiful, you’re so strong. You do so much for me and you help me every chance you can and the moment you help yourself you feel guilty but you know what you need and I am so glad that you do. I’m so glad you do anything for yourself because it is so hard for me to do it for myself and I just want to be more like you sometimes but I know if it was like that then how would we even have made it this far because we’re together because of what we give each other and that is so important that it is what we live for. We live for all that we give to the other and it’s fucking beautiful and it’s love, and it’s caring, and it’s help, it’s the listening, it’s the confidant, it’s the best friend, it’s the things that we lost when we were young and needed so badly. It’s the whole, it’s fulfilled, it’s satisfying and validating the fears, the worries, the stresses.

It’s everything. You’re everything to me.

You’re my infinity infiniated. The love so strong we had to make up another word for it.

[eeveecryptid]

※ BORDERLANDS: CL4P-TP EDITION

Various lines that Claptrap bots have said through Borderlands 1, Pre-Sequel and 2. feel free to change pronouns if needed. May include nsfw material. ( BL3 version here )

"Wow! You're not dead?" "Hey, check me out everybody! I'm dancin', I'm dancin'!" "Unce! Unce! Unce! Unce! Ooo, oh check me out. Unce! Unce! Unce! Unce! Oh, come on get down." "Yoo-hoooooooooo!" "I am the best robot. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I am the best robot. Ooh, ooh, here we go!" "Hey! Over here! I'm over here!" "Still haven't found the Vault?" "I'm over here!” "Rrrrrgh...this isn't working!" "Unce! Unce! I think I lost the beat... but, Unce! Unce!" "Wanna hear a new dubstep song I wrote? Wub! Wub--"  "(name) asked me to tell you about a, uh, ‘little sumthin' sumthin'’ s/he needs done. You should ask him/her about it!" "Did you find the Vault yet?" "Sure is lonely around here." "Oh my God, I'm leaking! I think I'm leaking! Ahhhh, I'm leaking! There's oil everywhere!" "I can see through time..." "My servos... are seizing..." "I can see... the code." "I don't like this... this is making me nervous. Take a deep breath- I can't breathe! This is just a recording of someone breathing! It's not real! It's just making me more nervous!" "I'm detecting a motor unit malfunction... I can't move! I'm paralyzed with fear!" "Please don't shoot me, please don't shoot me, please don't shoot me!" "Turning off the optics... they can't see me..." "The traveler will protect me. The traveler will protect me." "Good as new, I think. Am I leaking?" "The box is awaiting your attention." "Please open the box." "Yeah? Well, hmph!" [ gives the finger ] "Good luck!" "There's more to learn!" "Let me teach you the ways of magic!” "Magic waits for no one, apprentice!" "Still working on that quest?" "Shouldn't you be murdering something about now?" "Hey! You're TALKING to me! And I didn't even have an exclamation point over my head! This is the BEST day of my life!" "Sooooo... how are things?" "Hey, best friend!" "Yessss, look into my eyes. You're getting sleepy. You're getting... zzzzzz... Zzzzzz..." "Success! My spell to make you want to hang out with me worked!" "Stay a while, and listen. Oh god, please -- PLEASE! -- stay a while." "Away with thee!" "Don't you worry, minion! Give me one good shot at that (name) dude and I'll take them right out! I... just got some stuff to do first." "We've really come a long way, haven't we, minion? And you're still just as loyal as ever! Who's a good minion? You are! Yes you are!" "Yessiree! This whole place would completely fall apart without old Claptrap keeping things humming along!" "As a robot, I'm completely immune to (name)’s gas attacks. But that hasn't stopped me from incessantly cowering!" "And I thought bandits were bad BEFORE they had nightmare plants growing out of them!" "You already saved Pandora? But... but I'M the hero of Pandora! It's on my business card! I ORDERED SO MANY OF THEM!" "Sanctuary's gone? But the bank! All my stuff! All my crucial information! YES! I'M OFF THE GRID, BABY! NO MORE CREDITORS! Seriously, I owe a lot of people a lot of money." " The Vault Map is gone! Forever! It will never be found. Never, ever, ever-- is what I'll say to everyone I know while I look for it. " “ I can do more than open doors, sir/ma’am! We CL4P-TP units can be programmed to do anything from open doors to ninja-sassinate highly important Janitor-y officials! ” “ I once started a revolution myself. There were lots of guns and a lot of dying. You'd think I would have gotten some better benefits out of the whole thing but no, demoted back to door-opening servitude! ” “ ---Remember what? Are... are you my father? ” “ Are you god? Am I dead? ” “ I'M DEAD I'M DEAD OHMYGOD I'M DEAD! ” “ Thanks for giving me a second chance, (name). I really appreciate it. ” " Hey everybody! Check out my package! " " Let's get this party started! " " Glitching weirdness is a term of endearment, right? " " This time it'll be awesome, I promise! " " Look out everybody! Things are about to get awesome! " " Eww, what flavor is red? " "Where'd all my bullets go?" " Bullets are dumb. " " I need tiny death pellets! " " RUN FOR YOUR LIIIIIVES! " " Oh, s/he's big...REALLY big! " " I am a tornado of death and bullets! " " Stop me before I kill again, except don't! " " There is no way this ends badly! " " This is why I was built! " " You call yourself a badass? " " Is it dead? Can- can I open my eyes now? " " I didn't panic! Nope, not me! " " Not so tough after all! " " I have gaskets tougher than you! " " That was me! I did that! " " Don't tell me that wasn't awesome! " " Wait, did I really do that? " " Aww! Now I want a snow cone. " " Freeze! I don't know why I said that. " " I can't feel my fingers! Gah! I don't have any fingers! " " Why do I even feel pain?! " " Why did they build me out of galvanized flesh?! " " That looks like it hurts! " " Oh, quit falling to pieces. " " Is that what people look like inside? " " Huh, robot's don't do that. " " Disgusting. I love it! " " It's about to get magical! " " You can't just program this level of excitement! " " Push this button, flip this dongle, voila! Help me! " " Square the I, carry the 1... YES! " " I have an IDEA! " " Round and around and around she goes! " " It's like a box of chocolates. " " If I had veins, they'd be popping out right now! " " Roses are red and/Violets are blue/Wait... how many syllables was that? " " Aww, I should've drawn tattoos on you! " " Tell me I'm the prettiest! " " Trouncy, flouncy... founcy... those aren't words. " " The robot is dead, long live the robot! " " Take these, gorgeous, you'll feel better! " " Some days, you just can't get rid of an obscure pop-culture reference. " " Oh darn, oh boy, oh crap, oh boy, oh darn. " " Do not look behind my curtain! " " I'm made of magic! " " Like those guys who made only one song ever. " " Everybody, dance time! Da-da-da-dun-daaa-da-da-da-dun-daaa! " " I brought you a present: EXPLOSIONS! " " Is this really canon? " " ... You're dead to me. " “ Nobody hurts my friends! " " Wubwubwub. Dubstep dubstep. Wubwubwubwub DROP! Dubstep! " " I'll stop talking when I'm dead! " " I'll die the way I lived: annoying! " " Come back here! I'll gnaw your legs off! " " This could've gone better! " " You look like something a skag barfed up! " " What's that smell? Oh wait, it's just you! " " Yo momma's so dumb, she couldn't think of a good ending for this 'yo momma' joke! " " You're one screw short of a screw! " " I bet your mom could do better! " " Good thing I don't have a soul! " " I'll never go back to the bad place! " " I have many regrets! " " Can I just say... yeehaw. " " You're the wub to my dub! " " So... does this make me your favorite? " " What are YOU doing down here? " " We're like those buddies in that one show! " " This is no time to be lazy! " " You can thank me later! " " You love me, right? " " You, me... keeping on... together? " " You versus me! Me versus you! Either way! " " Dance battle! Or, you know... regular battle. " " You wanna fight with me?! Put 'em up!.. Put 'em up? " " A million baddies, and you wanna hit me? Aww! " " I am so impressed with myself! " " Ha ha, this is in no way surprising! Ha ha! " " Don't bother with plastic surgery - there's NO fixing that! " " I am right behind you, Vault Hunting friend! " " I can do that too! ... Sorta... Except not. " " You jerks have NO idea what you're in for! " " I'm so glad I'm not one of those guys right now! " " YOU! ARE! SCARY! " " That is in no way disturbing. " " I did a challenge? I did a challenge! " " Glad I didn't mess that up. " " I feel... complete!.. That's weird. " " I actually did something right for once! " " Hmmm, the possibilities are an infinite recursion. " " Do any of these come with a new paint job? " " Which of these gives me my free will back? " " The moon is not enough! " " I'd do anything for a man/woman with a gun. " " At least I still have my teeth! " " Coffee? Black... like my soul. " " Crazy young whippersnappers...  " " I've finally got an electric personality! " " Wait, this isn't vegetable juice! " " Cool! Now we're both super-crazy-amazing! " " These are the best kind of cooties! " " Can I shoot something now? Or climb some stairs? SOMETHING exciting? " " Times like these, I really start to question the meaning of my existence. Then I get distra-hey! What's this? This looks cool! " " It would really stink if I couldn't control what I was thinking. Like, who wants to know that I'm thinking about cheese and lint, right? " " How does math work? Does this skin make me look fat? If a giraffe and a car had a baby, would it be called a caraffe? Life's big questions, man. " " Who needs memories when I can do all this cool stuff? Stuff that I currently am not doing! That's what I'd like to call a 'hint'. " " Does this mean I can start dancing? Pleeeeeeaaaaase? " " Ya know when there was that Vault monster scare? I had these friends, and boy times sure were scary! But, I didn't care because I had friends, and they were like... super-friends! And then they left me, but they saved the world and I was like 'I know those guys!' Even though they never came back after that I still knew they cared, because no one had ever been... nice to me before. ... What is this? My eye is like... leaking. " " It's really quiet... and lonely... (hums briefly) Also this 'stopped moving' thing makes me uncomfortable. It gives me time to stop and think... literally. I'VE STOPPED, AND I'M THINKING! IT HURTS ME! " " Oh. My. God. What if I'm like... a fish? And, if I'm not moving... I stop breathing? AND THEN I'LL DIE! HELP ME! HELP MEEEEE HEE HEE HEEE! HHHHHHHELP! " " Ahem, ahem. What's going on? Did I break something? " “ You hear me, (name)?! You killed my friends! You destroyed my product line! I am the last Claptrap in existence, AND I AM GOING TO TEABAG YOUR CORPSE! ” “ You think a door can stop me, (name)?! I was MADE to open doors! ” “ Dammit, (name) - how did you know stairs were my ONLY weakness?! Next to electrocution, and explosions, and gunfire, rust, corrosion, being kicked a lot, viruses, being called bad names, falling from great heights, drowning, adult onset diabetes, being looked at funny, heart attacks, exposure to oxygen, being turned down by women, and pet allergens! Your brilliance is matched only by your malevolence! ” “ I'm just gonna go ahead and cloak now. You can't hear me crying if I cloak! (sobbing) stairs, why did it have to be stairs? I'll never climb those stairs! ”

[jayshq]

So, if you look at my followers I actually have 1,183, but that’s because this hasn’t always been Poe. I started this blog way back on Nov. 8, 2014 as Dean Winchester. It has gone through AT LEAST ten characters since then. So, a lot of these followers are dead accounts or abandoned accounts. However, when I started up Poe on here I made note that I had 1,083 followers. So, this is for the 100 of you that came here for my baby.

So, let’s get the follow forever out of the way. Let me start off by saying I’m going to forget people, I’m human. Also, I don't do very big follow forevers whenever I do them because I firmly believe in only having people who have had a very strong impact on me or Poe should be present on the list. That said, if you’re not on this list you are still very loved.

special mention of @bondforce for making this happen, thanks for being my 100th follower, lol.

REYS:

@dawnsabered : so, despite us not having any threads you’re first on this list because you re-sparked my love of the sequels and made me want to hop into this fandom again. Rping with you on Steve made me just adore the fandom more and more and made me want to bring back Poe. I’m eternally grateful to you for that. I have found such an amazing and welcoming home in this community and I wouldn’t have it without you, I love you loads, thanks a bunch.

@jedirisen : okay, so we met pretty early in and thank god we did. i adore your Rey, but more than anything you’ve been such an incredible friend. You’re always down to plot and create and just talk. You put up with my constant recommendations and are just one of the sweetest humans I’ve ever met. I’m super pumped that we found each other and I hope we have many great years of friendship ahead of us.

@fxrcefound​ : you’re a babe, you know that? Like, just such a good bean! Thank you for putting up with all my bullshit and being so fucking welcoming. I showed up in the fandom and within the first week we had multiple threads. I adore you, as does my Ben. Love’s his princess wife so much, tbh. But, no honestly I’m so glad I’ve found a friend in you. A gem, truly.

@scavenger-warrior : Ahhhh! Hi, I love you. So, first of all let me just say that our beautiful time leap verse (that all of our followers are currently being deprived of bc discord is so much better lol) is one of my all time favourite verses I’ve EVER done. It makes me so immensely happy and Ben is just in love.

@choosenskywalker : I’m TRASH! I’m so excited for the verses we have started, I’m just awful at replying. But, I really am so excited and I adore your writing, you’re very talented. You’re also super sweet and have the patience of a god. Thank you for being lovely, and I swear I’ll get better because I’m so excited to see where these things go.

@aequusjedi & @killingpast​  : you guys get a joint one because i love our poly babies despite me being a lazy bitch and not writing much with them yet. Nah, can I just say how excited I was when you joined our group Cas. I’m so excited to see how this develops and watch our babies fall in love. Aside from that though, both of you have been just lovely people OOC. I’m so lucky to have such wonderful partners like yourselves.

BENS:

@sithroyal : hey there! We also met in my early days here, and you’ve been such a joy to write with, no matter what character it’s on. You’re portrayal is one of pure perfection. I love writing with you and any reply always makes me so excited. On top of that you’ve been so kind and inviting and it really meant a lot since I was HELLA INTIMIDATED by you when I first got here.

@endheir : LOOK EVERYONE, IT’S J.J. ABRAMS EVIL TWIN, come to fix all the shit J.J. broke. No, seriously I am so impressed and will never not be intimidated by how amazing you and your writing is! THIS IS THE BEN SOLO WE DESERVED! But, you’re such a peach and so nice and I adore plotting with you. Thanks for being the bomb dot com.

@dyadalone : WE ARE CRACK ROYALTY, thank you very much. No, really though I love when we (and our friends) get up to our shenanigans. But, aside from that Poe is also just IN LOVE! And, I adore you OOC. Such a kind and loving person, you da best! I am so happy we found each other through this hellsite and can’t wait to see what nonsense our future brings.

@brokendyad : HELLO I LOVE YOU! You’re such a solid friend and such a talented writer. I’m so happy we get to have so much fun writing and plotting. You’re an absolute dear and I’ll never get over how lucky I am to have such amazing friends. Thanks for being great and I hope we stay close forever.

@lghtpulled : okay, so i can’t explain my infinite love for you. I can’t. All my characters over here being obsessed over your Ben. I’ve told you how much I adore your Ben, but I can’t say it enough. Also, our high school verse GIVES ME LIFE! But, nah you’re just so talented and SO KIND! I’m so glad that despite being SO FUCKING INTIMIDATED by you we managed to form this amazing friendship. I’m keeping you.

THE FAM:

@kesdameronn : SCARF DAD! No, lol I love that Poe’s dad is around. We haven’t done much yet but we have all the time in the world for the Dameron bros to get up to shit together. Also, Zep you are such a kind and cute soul and I just love ya!

@lieutenantxbey : Mama Dameron, how could we not love? Poe loves his mama so much and lowkey wants to be just like her. I love seeing Shara on the dash. And the few times we’ve spoken you’ve been just a ray of light, so keep being awesome.

@legacybeyne : this little shit! No, I’m kidding, Poe loves his cousin. Like wants to throw him out an airlock sometimes, but loves him. I adore this character so much and I’m so happy Poe has more family around. Also, OOC you seem like a super cool person, so definitely don’t stop that.

LUKE:

@jedishope​ : SHANE! I don’t know if I could tell you how much I actually adore you? Like, I don’t think I could. And, I low-key don’t want to because it would deffo scare you off, lol. But, no you’re just an absolute ray of sunshine and such a beautiful person. A person only has to talk to you for a second to see how just full or love and kindness you are. You bring so much joy to my dash and I’m forever thankful for it! Not to mention your Luke is hands down the best Luke I’ve ever seen. Absolutely perfect! I was so scared to approach you at first because you were just so fucking talented and obviously still are! I love your Luke with my whole heart and so does Poe.

HUX:

@muddledbloodlines : I am so excited for the verse we’ve created for our lonely babies and can’t wait to see where it goes. You have such an interesting take on this character and I love it! I’m so excited to get to know you better and really explore this. I’m honestly just in love with your writing and imagination.

OCS:

 @congeriemgriseo : so it won’t tag you, which is RUDE! But, anyway: I adore Any. Such an incredibly well thought out and beautiful OC. I’m quite picky when it comes to OCs, despite having one of my own. But, I was enraptured from the moment I read her bio, and you have not disappointed! She’s such a beautiful little chaos machine and I love her.

@orderengineer : okay, so I actually usually despise OCs that are really kind. Because as much as Mary Sue characters are fine to write, I personally can’t write opposite them. However, that’s not what Syla is! She’s so much more complex than that and I adore her. Both Ben and Orion find her insanely interesting and think she’s super fucking talented. I love this character you've created. It’s also just insane to see my characters name on the dash lol. You’re also such a sweetheart OOC and it always makes my day.

@petitehux : so for anyone who doesn’t know? I LOVE Kat. Like, I am obsessed, I have 100s of photos of her saved on my phone. I am just in love. Her and Dove Cameron are my two ultimate celebrity crushes. Which was the original reason I decided to check out your blog, and I’m so fucking happy I did. Ryann is so fucking cool and I think she brings such an interesting dynamic to the whole trilogy story. I can’t wait for myself to stop being lazy and get some bomb shit going with this incredible OC.

I’M A STALKER (also we need to rp!):

@hopedyad : I love seeing you on my dash and I adore keeping up with your posts. You’re a super talented writer and I hope in the future I stop being a shy bean and we can actually do cool things lol. You seem super sweet and like you’ve got a wicked sense of humor OOC too.

@tornbetweenthestorm : So, I LOVE FN! It’s so great to see such an interesting OC. I adore the work and thought you’ve put into this character and his struggles. Anytime I stop to read one of your replies to a partner I’m just overcome by your brilliance. I’m so happy I stumbled across your blog (thank you tumblr recs) and have been lucky enough to be mutuals with you.

@iamthecrder : well hello there. So, yeah I think your Hux is super cool and right on the money. It’s so interesting to see a different version of him and I honestly think you’re so incredibly talented! Keep being awesome, my good dude.

OTHER:

@mangohub : Monroe. My love, what can I say? You’ve followed me from my original Alec all the way to here. Despite not being a Star Wars fan you still follow me on multiple of your blogs. I will always love you. I will also never stop being astounded by your talent and world building capabilities. In case there was any confusion, YOU ARE  MY FAVOURITE PERSON ON TUMBLR. Also, you are the most talented person I’ve ever followed. I will never stop being so happy to see you, no matter the blog, on my dash. On top of being the most talented writer I know, you also happen to be the sweetest human on the planet. You have so much love in your heart and you pour into your friends like it’s going out of style. I’m so so lucky to have you and I love you, okay?

Obviously I don't talk to you lads enough, but a special shoutout to @poewingsdameron, @lightskipped, , @flyjacket, @sprklit & @vuuelo for playing this amazing bean alongside me. 

Okay, now onto the giveaway. So, friendly reminder that I make all my own stuff, so if you want examples of my work just check out across my blogs. That being said, when it comes to graphics, icons, etc I’m not very talented with creating stuff myself, so I use other peoples free templates, borders, psds and so on. I think I’m decently talented at putting them together, though. Also, having me do it just saves you a stupid amount of time lol.

Simply enter by liking AND/OR reblogging, the winners will be chosen using a random number generator. I will contact each of you via IM (or discord if we have each other) to discuss getting to work on the prizes. The only real rule is DO NOT SPAM YOUR FOLLOWERS. I’m not gonna put a limit on how many times you can reblog, but be fucking courteous to your followers, okay? This giveaway ends on APRIL 10th at NOON GMT-6.

1st PLACE: 200 icons of the character of your choosing, a promo & a dash icon.

2nd PLACE:  100 icons of the character of your choosing & a dash icon.

3rd PLACE:  100 icons of the character of your choosing.

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Nate and Danny: The Lucky Ones

This is just a little recovery drabble - someone a while back requested a sweet moment with Nate and Danny, so here it is! You know, to get you all nice and relaxed before the next BTHB piece.

CW: Referenced past abuse/violence, noncon, drugging, dubcon (on both sides), trauma recovery. But, you know, I swear this one is really sweet at heart. Some hint of spice. Like PG-13 spice. 

Tagging @bleeding-demon-teeth, @spiffythespook, and @special-spicy-chicken. Also I owe a debt to @orchidscript for this one, as it pulls from a scene she and I wrote out a while back in a different context. Oh, and here is a link to the song that is in this piece if you haven’t heard it before.

“No, Danny.”

“Please? Come on, Nate, please, it’ll help, I know it will.”

Nate looks up from his position lying in the bed, where he’s been for the past three days. Danny stands between him and the window, and the hint of sunshine outside lights a halo around the red hair, turning the edges to a brilliant gleaming copper. Danny’s face is slightly shadowed this way, not exactly silhouette. It fades out the scars until they’re barely visible, lessens the hint of silver-gray visible just at his scalp if you know where to look.

But it doesn’t matter how dark the shadows make Danny’s face, Nate can still see the vibrant warm blue of his eyes.

Danny’s wearing a heavy sweater and soft cotton pants - he’s always wearing sweaters now, even as the weather begins to warm, even as flowers bloom in the landscaping at the edge of the apartment complex’s parking lot and the leaves bud on the trees outside. The sweater is a deep green, nearly the same color as Nate’s own eyes, and sets off every inch of the redhead’s pale freckled skin.

Nate swallows against the way the guilt pricks at him, a million little needles that never leave him alone. He hasn’t moved in days because he’s been thinking about how much they’ve all lost, and his sense that the life he is building here - taking care of Danny, going to therapy, watching Ryan Michaelson be the world’s biggest jackass until he looks at his brother and suddenly that drops and melts away into a devotion Nate has never seen before - is all going to be ripped away.

It was too easy, sending Bram to prison.

It was all too easy, and it won’t last.

Nate looks up at Danny, who gives him a shy and nervous smile, and thinks, My hands tied you to the headboard even when I begged him not to make me. My hand held the knife. My hand pulled your head back by your hair so he could watch the blood drip in your eyes. My hands helped him put the muzzle on your face that last time, my hands cleaned you up when he let you back out of the cellar, my hands, mine, I am covered in your blood. I am complicit, I’m as guilty as he is, it doesn’t matter what happens with his eyes.

I deserve to be dead.

Why am I here?

He slumps back onto the bed. “L-Leave me alone, Danny. I j-j-just want to stay here today.”

“No.” The word is a surprise to both of them - when Nate blinks and looks up, Danny’s eyes are wide and a little frightened at himself. 

Nate swallows hard against the rush of self-loathing as he reads the thought clear as day across Danny’s face: puppies don’t get to say no. “I, I mean…” Danny’s jaw sets, and Nate is even more surprised by the look of determination when those blue eyes move back to his. “I mean it. No. This always helped me when we did it up in the woods. I want to help you, Nate. I want you to believe me when I say I want you here. I want, um, I want… I want you to get out of the bed. Okay?” As though all his strength had bled out in his words, Danny’s shoulders slumped a little, hunching into himself, making himself smaller. “... please?”

It’s the crack in his voice on the final word that gets Nate to move. He’d tried to kill a man to save Danny. He’d burned down the cabin and driven away in the middle of the night. Whatever he was - however guilty - Danny didn’t see him that way.

Danny never seems to see the man that held him down to be hurt - only the man who watched movies with him late at night and helped him pick bundles of wildflowers to press, only the man who would sometimes kiss the bruises Bram had left with perfect tenderness. Danny saw the man who had saved him and not the man who was the reason he had been broken in the first place.

Danny saw the man who stitched him up after he was forced to step into the trap and not the man who had done nothing but uselessly hold him while Abraham made him do it.

Whatever he is, has been made into, Nate had discovered the ability to stand up when Danny needed him, in the end. Danny needs him to stand up now.

So Nate pushes back the covers, which seem to weigh three tons, and slides his feet off the side of the bed. He leans over for a second, hands on the edge of the bed, just sitting in his pajama pants and looking down at himself - the wicked stripe of pale, faded scar up his torso (Ashley), the twisted one along his collarbone (Bram), the smaller pockmarked places knives had gone in and out of him like love (Bram, always Bram, endlessly Bram).

When Danny holds out his hand, Nate reaches up with his good one to take it, lets Danny pull him up off the bed. Danny holds both of his hands, grip gentle and barely-there on the bad hand so as not to push the misplaced bones together.

“This helped, when you used to do it with me,” Danny says softly, looking down at him, and Nate tilts his head back to look up. It’s always so strange the way Danny can seem so small until you stand next to him and realize how tall he is, the height he hides as much with his personality as with the way he rolls his shoulders forwards and curves his spine.

If he disliked Ryan a little less, he’d ask if he was always like that, or if that was something he’d only learned in the cabin. After all, he and Danny had only seen each other a handful of times before Abraham came for him.

Nate had met some people and kind of fallen in with them, and Danny had been on the periphery of the group. Most of Nate’s interactions with him prior to the night Danny had come over to watch a movie with him - and Bram had finally hunted Nate down - had involved pretending not to watch Danny push and shove and dance with a crowd in a dark bar in front of a stage. Pretending his mouth wasn’t dry, that he wasn’t staring at the way Danny moved when the sweat slicked him up, dampened his shirt, left little bits of red hair stuck to his forehead and the back of his neck as he knocked back another drink, shot Nate a half-shy, half-bold flash of toothy smile before he went back to the crowd.

Nate had spent the time they were around each other pretending he wasn’t interested, because it wasn’t safe to be interested. Then he’d let his guard down, and here they are, nearly five years later, a broken puppy and Bram’s black-haired prince who burned down the fucking castle.

Danny takes Nate’s other hand in his, tilting his head with a nervous, shy smile, and Nate lets his eyes move back up to the halo of sunlight around his hair. Maybe Bram named the wrong one of us the prince. “H-How long have you been awake?” He asks, voice low and deep and uncertain. Danny smells like his shampoo and soap, an odd mix of flowers and something like mint. This close, Nate can tell his hair is still the slightest bit damp.

(do you like him better this way, baby?)

Of course I like him better free

(but he was so good for you, before)

He’s better for me now

Nate shakes off the thoughts, the hint of Bram’s voice that never quite leaves him, and sighs. “Fine. We’ll t-t-try it. But if it doesn’t w-work, you let me get b-back in the bed, okay?”

“It’s a deal. It’ll work, Nate, I know it will.”

There’s hardly enough room, with Danny’s big bed and his desk and a dresser, but Nate lets himself be pulled, moving to the one space in here big enough for what Danny wants to do. Now that he’s agreed to it, Danny’s smile has shifted, widened, become more certain of itself and sincere. It crinkles the scar tissue at the bridge of his nose, makes the broken line of his jaw on each side less obvious, makes the tiny pinprick scars from the sharp pieces that stuck off the metal and jabbed his skin less noticeable.

Nate wants to touch the scar, to trace it with his hands like he does when Danny is scared or goes too far inside his own head for them to follow. The touch that brings him back when he’s lost in the woods. He never wants to stop touching the scars, rub his thumbs right into them until they both forget what made them.

He swallows as Danny moves him, the taller man’s face gone serious and thoughtful, his eyes a little distant, lost in thought, in memory.

He made me hurt you so many ways, and when I can’t get out of bed, you still come here to pull me up.

There’s an infinite, innate capacity for forgiveness in Danny that Nate cannot begin to fathom, is utterly unprepared for. He doesn’t deserve it, didn’t expect it. He expected to be tossed out as soon as his testimony was done, as soon as his part in putting Bram away was over. Instead, Danny spent a day with his parents and came back shaking, fucked up, but with enough promised money to cover Nate’s therapy and medical bills and an offer to let Nate stay here as long as he wanted to stay.

Forever, Nate wants to say, but he never does. I don’t know how to start over any longer. I don’t want to start over without you.

“No, come, come here,” Danny murmurs, sliding an arm around Nate’s waist, pulling him close until they’re pressed together. Danny’s hipbones, still sharp from years of never eating enough, push just a little against Nate’s abdomen. “Too far away.”

“Wh-why?” Nate asks, and he’s asking a dozen different questions with that one single word - afraid of what the answer might be for most of them, desperately wanting an answer to the rest.

“Because it worked, when you did it on the days I didn’t want to get up off the mat. Because it worked, then. It can work for you, too.”

Danny’s arms slide around him, and Nate echoes the motion, his forehead dropping to rest on Danny’s shoulder, feeling the jut of his collarbone even through the heavy fabric of his sweater. When Danny starts to move, Nate moves with him, the slow shifting back and forth of a middle-school dance but without what Nate’s grandmother had called ‘space for Jesus, Joseph, and Mary’ between them.

He fights the hint of helpless, sad laughter, the thought of what his grandmother would think of him now, slow-dancing in the bedroom of… whatever Danny was to him. Whatever they were to each other.

(I’ve met real gods, you know - and real gods never forgive you)

Nate swallows, and he must tense, because Danny’s arms tighten around him. “Here, let me help the wrong thoughts,” Danny whispers, and Nate closes his eyes at the rush of shame there. Wrong thoughts, Bram’s words in Danny’s voice.

(do you think you’ve earned forgiveness, sweet thing? do you think you’ll ever earn it?)

Danny begins to hum, slightly tuneless and off-key, resting his chin on Nate’s hair, the two of them still moving slowly, back and forth. He’s too aware of Danny’s body, of the warmth of the arms around him. He’s too aware of the scars that his hands caused at Bram’s command, inside and out.

He’s too aware of what he’s done, too sure that he will never, ever deserve the forgiveness that Danny never stops offering him.

“I c-can’t-” He starts, and Danny’s arms tighten even more, until they nearly hurt, until they nearly steal his breath.

“Yes, you can,” Danny murmurs into his hair. “I could, for you. You can for me.”

There is silence, for a while, the sun cutting stripes through the blinds across Danny’s old wooden desk under the window, the rumpled covers with the quilt on top. The green of Danny’s sweater soft against his cheek, the hint of dark red and copper blending in his hair. He knows just what Danny’s eyelashes look like right now, closing against his cheek, bright, light ginger-copper and so long it’s fucking ridiculous - no one should have eyelashes that long.

“Better?” Danny whispers - and it almost is.

(your body belongs to me, your love is for me, your life is mine)

Nate shudders and shakes his head.

Danny nods against his hair, and there’s quiet for another little while. He’s not sure how long, because all he can think of is how much he doesn’t deserve this moment. He should be in prison right next to Bram, in his own solitary cell, a menace, a destroyer, a villain in Danny’s narrative.

Then Danny starts to sing.

It’s halting and cracked in his hoarse, rough voice, and Nate turns his head so his ear is against Danny’s shoulder, mouth just barely brushing the skin of his neck. This way he can feel the vibration of sound through Danny’s chest.

“It was a Monday when my lover told me, ‘never pay the reaper with love only’,” Danny sings, off-key, but Nate presses his lips together and his ear a little more against Danny’s sweater, listening to the soft sound. He knows this song, doesn’t he?

He’s heard this song before, but where?

“What could I say to you,” Danny sings, “Except ‘I love you’, and ‘I’d give my life for yours’?... I know we are, we are the lucky ones-... I know we are, we are the lucky ones. I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear…”

“Wh-what are you s-s-singing?”

“Sssshhh,” Danny says softly, and Nate falls silent again. Danny never gives orders, never gives commands. He’s submissive and eager-to-please, nervous and worried all the time. This version of him is vanishingly rare, and Nate wonders if this was what he was like with his boyfriends, before - and Nate just never had the chance to learn about it, then.

“The first time we made love, I wasn’t sober,” Danny sings, voice warming a little, “And you told me you loved me over and over-”

I’m s-s-so sorry, I’m so s-s-sorry, Red, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, j-j-just look at m-me now, okay?

(what are you waiting for?)

‘Kay, can do it, can look-... your eyes are bleeding, Nate, like green sky, you’re stained glass, you’re a fucking saint sparking fucking starlight fuck, ah

J-Just look at me, Red, just look right at me, it’s going to be oh-okay, it’s okay, I d-d-don’t want to, I promise, I just, I have to-

(of course you want to. and if you don’t, I will)

Sssshhh, s’okay if it’s you. Always if it’s you. I want you too. Saint Nate, ha, Saint Nate saint… Saint Nathaniel, patron saint of, of puppies and fuck, what’d he put in my drink? Shit, you feel so good, don’t stop

Fuck, R-Red, I’m so sorry

(stop holding out on him, baby, he’s asking for it)

“-how can I ever love another, when I miss you everyday?” Danny kept singing, shifting them back and forth with the slightest movements in rhythm to his song. Nate kept thinking he’d heard this song before, somewhere, in his past, in the life before Abraham. 

There was a life before Bram.

“Remember the time we made love in the roses? And you took my picture in all sorts of poses-”

Look at this, Nate! It’s like all the flowers bloomed at once this year! Here, let me make you a dandelion chain. My friend Kelli taught me how to do this when we were kids, let me make you one, it’s like a crown, like you’re a, a prince for real.

G-G-Go for it, Red, I’ll pretend I d-don’t look ridic… ridic-... that I don’t look stupid.

You never look stupid, you’re the smartest person I’ve ever met. Here, I’ll make chains for us both, that way we both look stupid, right?

Right.

You could never look stupid, you know. You always look so good.

Wh-what?

Never mind. Let me grab more dandelions, I’ll be right back.

Danny with the yellow dandelions woven through his hair, grinning at him, a flash of white teeth and crinkled scars and the sunlight that turned his freckles darker and darker while his skin stayed pale and white. Sitting shirtless in the garden while they worked, sun burning his shoulders reddish pink, the smile on his face when he settled the second chain on the top of Nate’s head.

And Bram never saw that moment - that memory was theirs, alone.

“-How can I ever get over you, when I’d give my life for yours?”

I tried to kill for you.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-... I know we are, we are the lucky ones… I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear… my dear…” Danny’s voice cracks again when he tries to hit the high notes, and Nate is struck by how fucking awful his singing voice is, and how he doesn’t care at all, it sounds amazing to hear it.

Like watching him dance in his kitchen when he thought no one was watching, barely hitting the high note. The way his heart had leapt when Ryan had popped out onto the patio with a finger on his lips, the sound of Danny’s music blaring in the kitchen behind them, and whispered, come on, motherfucker, you have got to see what he’s doing now.

“It’s time to say I thank God for you,” Danny sings, “I thank God for you… in each and every single way-... and I know, I know, I know… it’s time to let you know, time to let you know, time to sit here and say…”

I’d kill for you again.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-”

I hurt you.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones-”

I couldn’t save you for four fucking years.

“I know we are, we are the lucky ones, dear…”

I loved you so much and I still couldn’t save you.

“We are the lucky ones, dear…” Danny’s voice trails off, the two of them still moving in rhythm, and Nate takes a deep breath of the smell of Danny, the simple scent of his skin layered under clean soap and that weird floral shampoo he buys. His hands tighten in the fabric of Danny’s sweater.

“What’s that s-s-song?”

“Huh? Oh, it’s… it’s B-something, Naked…”

“Bif Naked,” Nate blinks. “I knew I kn-knew that song. I used to l-l-love her… where d-d-did you ever hear that song?”

“... promise not to laugh?”

“C-Cross my heart and hope to d-die.”

“Buffy the Vampire Slayer.” Nate has to bite back the instinctive laughter in return, and barely manages it, and feels Danny stiffen a little. “Don’t judge! Ryan loves Buffy, or did. We watched all the reruns. She and some guy dance to that song, and I… I liked it, so I downloaded it and listened to it a bunch. I was listening to it earlier cleaning the kitchen, and it… made me think of you. Of… of us.”

There’s a silence that stretches between them, comfortable but weighty.

Then Danny says softly, “There’s an us, right?”

“Danny, I w-w-want to go back to the bed,” Nate replies in a rush, and feels Danny’s shoulders drop a little. Feels the sudden well of fear that threatens him. “W-wait. Don’t, just… just let me f-f-finish. I w-want to go back to the bed and I want y-y-you to come with me.”

Danny pulls back and away all at once, and Nate swallows back the spike of panic that he’s crossed a line, gone too far. They’ve done nothing more than this, than maybe a few kisses, since they came back. He doesn’t deserve any more. He doesn’t deserve this.

Danny catches his eyes, and Nate thinks, no one could ever earn the forgiveness you never stop giving me.

The scarred hands find their way up to his face, rough fingers with skin calloused to near-numbness by years of being forced to work too hard, to hurt himself. Nate’s own hands cover them, the pads of his own fingers pressing into the scars without flinching, without fear. He doesn’t mind Danny’s hands, he never has. He loved them clean and he loves them scarred. He loves the body he knows too well and for all the wrong reasons.

He wants to erase all the wrong ones, all the times Danny was hurt, and cover him over in something new. But maybe he isn’t the right person, for that - maybe Danny needs someone else, someone who isn’t complicit, who isn’t guilty, who isn’t-

“Yeah, let’s go to the bed,” Danny says, and smiles. Nate’s heart breaks, but it beats harder, too, and he can’t reconcile the two feelings, the sense of being given a gift, again, that he should never have been given at all.

“D-don’t, you don’t have t-to,” Nate says softly. “I know that y-you, that you need to take time-”

Danny leans in to kiss him, and Nate hasn’t felt the warmth of his lips quite like this since that night in the truck, since he took the muzzle off and Danny came back to life. “I need time,” Danny agrees, nuzzling against the side of his face. “But I have time. And I have, um, I have you. Can I have you, too, and time? Do I get to have both?”

Nate hesitates, uncertain what answer he’s meant to give to that, what the question even means. Then Danny grabs him by the hands and pulls him back to the bed, pushes him onto his back, and Nate’s uncertainty breaks apart and melts under the sudden weight of Danny climbing on top of him, pressing him into the soft blankets and the mattress that gives just a little under their weight. Danny kisses him again, slowly, wonderfully, hands running slowly up Nate’s sides. There’s a surety, a certainty, to him that Nate would give anything to see more of.

Nate, look, the body had a canoe in this shed. Do you… do you think I could lay down in it? Do you want to see if we can, um... do you want to?

Look, I found baby rabbits. Do you think the mother’s around here somewhere?

I, um, I made you this - for you. Do you like it? Is it okay?

Do you think we would have really gotten together, if it hadn’t been like this?

I’ll take a shower before he gets back, Nate, he won’t ever know.

Danny’s hands slide rough-skinned over Nate’s shoulders, feeling over the scars Bram left on him. He licks at the scar on Nate’s lip, the tiniest nick that only shows when he smiles, really, and finds his way to his ear and down his neck, trailing lips over the circles that Ashley cut into him, over and over again.

“D-Danny,” Nate murmurs, sliding hands up into his hair. “Danny, don’t d-d-do anything you don’t w-want to do-”

“I want to,” Danny says softly. “I want to. I want to all the time, but I’m not, I’m not supposed to want to any longer-”

“Hey.” Nate’s fingers tighten just a little in his hair and Danny stills, looking at him with the blue eyes, the sun catching them just right to make them seem almost to glow. His face is flushed and red, and Nate smiles at the sight of him, the way he bites his lower lip, just a little bit. “You  get to w-w-want whatever you w-want, now, remember? We’re free.”

“Free,” Danny breathes out, shivering at the word. His hips press just a little into Nate’s, and he can’t quite catch his breath at the way that feels. Warm and human and he feels like a live wire under Danny’s body, shifting a little at the press of Danny against him. “I get to say no, now, right?”

Nate nods, slowly. “You get to say no. Forever. Anytime you w-w-want. Even right n-now, Danny. Tell m-me to fuck off, and I will. No hard f-f-feelings.”

“I don’t want you to fuck off. I want you to...” Danny colors, bright red covering up the freckles and scars across his cheeks, and they both realize the joke Danny wants to say at the same time as they realize he’s not quite ready for that, yet.

“You d-d-decide what happens now,” Nate says, firmly. “All y-you, Danny. Every step of the way.”

Danny swallows, hard, and lowers himself until he’s resting on his elbows, their bodies touching from breastbone all the way through their legs. The weight of him isn’t nearly enough for his height, and Nate feels the curve of his muscled shoulders, down his biceps, slides his hands up under the sweater, pushing it up to feel the rippled whip-scars that line his upper back. “If I get to say no, Nate, I want… I want to, um.” Danny looks to the side, shyly, then back at him. He leans in to kiss him, one more time. “I can’t... not to everything. But to a little... I want to say yes.”