#my brain hurts trying to understand the parts that make up an electric guitar so I decided to post WOTP Dom interview instead

[cherrylng]

WOTP Dom Howard Interview [INROCK - Muse (October 2022)]

Unparalleled rock trio Muse release first new album in four years, Will of the People.

"We don't want to do a best-of album or a compilation because we're going to keep making new music."

Dominic Howard/Muse INTERVIEW: AI ANAZAWA

Muse have released their new album ‘Will of the People’, their first album in almost four years since ‘Simulation Theory’ (2018). The band has always been big on the soundscale, but this time they've pushed each of the songs to their full potential, making the rock songs harder and the ballads more dramatic, creating what might be described as the ‘strongest’ album yet. The album was self-produced without an external producer due to the Corona disaster, but as you would expect from a seasoned artist, he knows his identity and what he needs to do now. Dominic, who agreed to be interviewed by Zoom, was relaxing in the sunroom of his London home with his dog.

—I saw a picture of you at a recent festival where you were playing drums in a full face mask, is that a new image for the new album ‘Will of the People’? Dominic Howard (dr.): We start the show with ‘Will of the People’ and we also appear wearing the masks that the main characters and groups that appear on the album cover and video wear. It's the opening song.

—Oh, I thought it was hot in the summer (laughs). Dominic: (laughs). I can hardly see anything when I'm wearing that. I can barely see the drums in front of me, so I think Matt [Matthew Bellamy, vo. keys g.] and Chris [Wolstenholme, b.] have an even harder time. They'll be playing while trying to keep an eye on the fretboard. Plus, it's a full face, so it's hard to breathe. And there's a burning ‘Will of the People‘ logo right behind me, so my back is burning hot. But, you know, I'll do anything for rock‘n’roll (laughs).

“I was careful to avoid abstractions, and I was also very conscious of keeping it tight.”

—This album is especially Hard Rock, isn't it? A lot of albums made during the pandemic have been released one after another, but I have the impression that many of them are introspective because of the production environment, but this album is the complete opposite of that (laughs). Dominic: Yeah, it's a heavier, harder rock sound, less introspective… We were definitely working on some of it during the lockdown, though. I think everyone tended to be more introspective back then, and people were making music that sounded a bit more light-hearted, maybe not as bombastic as ours. Anyway, that kind of thing (introspective, light music) is not really our thing, it's more outward expression, more outlandish. Yeah, we haven't done an album as heavy as this one in a really long time.

—I read that you started this album as a response to a label proposal to release a best-of album, but why are you against the idea of ​​a greatest hits album in the first place? Dominic: Realistically speaking, best-of albums aren't what they used to be, are they? Nowadays, a person's top 10 favourite songs on Spotify are their best releases, right? Labels want to do best-of records because they want to promote the band, but we've always been against it because we feel like a best-of record is kind of the end of your career, you know (laughs). We don't want to do a best-of album or compilation because we're going to keep making new music. The labels might have come up with the idea in discussions to see if there was anything they could release during the pandemic, but we've always said no, let's make new material instead.

—I see. Matt describes the album as “best of new songs” and “a montage piece packed with the best of Muse.” Was that the band's goal or perception in the making of the album? Did you actually discuss such things? Dominic: Hahaha, we talk about it all the time. The whole time we were making it. But I don't think it was ever our concept. I'm sure Matt said that because we like the album that much and we think it's like our best album. I think he wanted to say that it's like a collection of the best parts of the band's old sound. It's got the heavy side, the pop side, the acoustic ballads like ‘Ghosts (How Can I Move On)’, it's got the best of what the band has always done. Well, whenever you're making an album, you always think: ‘This is the best album ever! Every song could be cut as a single!’ (laughs). I don't want to release it, or even finish it, unless I'm proud of it as an important representation of the band as it is now. In fact, we were very conscious of only including stuff that we felt was appropriate to be on the album. We didn't want to do anything too experimental… That's a bit of a misnomer. We were careful to avoid abstraction, to keep it to the point and concise, to know where to put the songs on the album, and to keep the production tight.

—There are only ten songs on the album. Do you have any regrets about not being able to keep it tighter on previous albums? Dominic: No, not really. When it's been a year or so since we put out an album, I do think ‘I should have done that’ or something like that, but I wouldn't really call it a regret. We've done some very experimental and abstract albums in the past, because that's what the album needed, especially the first three albums. The second album (2001's Origin of Symmetry) is longer and more experimental. I'm not saying that I want to get rid of that aspect of ourselves, I'm just saying that we've become more conscious of making tighter albums. And I've always wanted to make a 10-song album. We've had instrumental songs that made it 11 songs, so this time we decided to make an album of just 10 songs with songs on it (laughs).

—The content of the song this time is all very depressing, just a little bit… (laughs). Dominic: The lyrics (laughs)?

—Yeah. It's as realistic a fiction as you can get. Are these socio-political and environmental issues always something that comes up in the band? Or is this all about Matt's political views? Dominic: Mostly the latter (laughs). I think the surreal, political fictional world is where he's most comfortable writing. I guess it's easier to write about very personal things than to express them frankly. Of course there are parts of the album that touch on personal things, but I haven't done a lot of songs that are about personal things. Matt's style is to write about the emotions of what's going on in the world and apply them to an imaginary world. Naturally, we would talk about the topic and the direction we wanted the song to go in. But the music always comes first. Then the lyrics (by Matt) can take quite a while, but whatever idea it's based on, the three of us take it and put it into music, and eventually it's something we enjoy playing. The lyrics come after that, so it can be influenced by the vibe and feel of the song's source material.

—Oh, really? Dominic: So it's not the lyrics we talk about the most, it's the music (laughs).

—I see, the three of you live in different parts of the world. How did you make that music during the pandemic, especially during the lockdown? Dominic: It was tough. Especially in 2020, there were months when we couldn't do anything. But we still did things like exchange ideas virtually. Once we were able to get together, we started working in the studio in Los Angeles. Chris doesn't live over here, but we still had him come to LA, and when that wasn't possible, we continued working remotely. In the spring of 2021, we got together in London and we were able to work on it at Abbey Road [Studios]. It was a lot of work, but we found a way to work not only on music, but also on these things (Zoom interviews), and also on business, virtually, without having to move from place to place, didn't we? I think it's actually become more convenient for a lot of people.

—Did you produce this album yourselves because of the restrictions of the Corona Disaster? Or was it a reaction to the fact that your last album, ‘Simulation Theory’, involved a lot of producers? Dominic: It was probably both. It was a pandemic, so from the beginning Matt and I were in the studio alone, trying out different ideas, and we were comfortable with that. Then Aleks (von Korff), the engineer, joined us in the studio and the three of us were in what you might call a bubble (laughs). Of course we had to take coronavirus checks every now and then and be careful while working, but we got comfortable in that situation, and it felt different to invite other people in there. It would be a lot of work to bring someone else in. And we like production work too. We've always co-produced, even when we've had a producer, and we rather like the time-consuming, detailed work.

—Please tell me how did you decide to end the album on a hopeless note with ‘We Are Fucking Fucked’ (laughs)? Dominic: It's interesting to hear other people say the title of this song (laughs). It was the only song we had at the end of the album. If we'd put ‘Fucking Fucked’ anywhere else, it would have given the piece a weird vibe. It's a sarcastic, depressing type of song, after all (laughs). So I think it was right to put it at the end. At first I was thinking of putting ‘Verona’ at the end. That song has a fantastic, relaxed, outro-like feel to it. But I still think ‘Fucking Fucked’ is the right one.

—Which is your favourite song of the day? Dominic: It's hard to pick just one song, I feel bad for the others (laughs).

—Let's limit it to this morning's then (laughs). Dominic: Well, we've been playing ‘Kill or Be Killed’ live recently and it's a lot of fun to play live. Maybe there's a heaviness to it that we haven't ventured into before? It's pretty metal. And I really like ‘Won't Stand Down’. When we were working on the album, I was telling Matt that every song had to make the listener feel something, and we had to make the songs make us feel something, and he asked me what I meant, and I said that sometimes when we listen to our past albums… I actually listened to all our previous albums before we started making this album. Some of them were okay, some of them were a little bit terrible, but they still conveyed what we were feeling at the time. So I had a strong feeling that every song on this album had to make me feel something. ‘Kill or Be Killed‘, when you get into the chorus, it makes you feel it. I like everything else on the record apart from those two songs. And ‘Liberation’ is a lot of fun to play. We haven't done a piano song like that for a while. Is it reminiscent of ‘United States of Eurasia’ (2009's “The Resistance”)?

“What I really want to do is to go around to different sized venues here and there and stay in Japan for two or three weeks.”

—I also like ’You Make Me Feel Like It's Halloween’. And it touches on the serious issue of domestic violence. Dominic: Yes, it does. It's a very fun song, but the lyrics actually touch on emotional abuse in the home. It's the same with ‘Won't Stand Down’. We know people who have been through that, and it's a very real issue that sometimes people don't realise they're going through it. It's such a serious thing with a very pop sound.

—Will you be touring the world after a few shows in the UK in October? Dominic: Yeah, we'll play some smaller theatres in the UK in October and then maybe next year we'll tour overseas, including Japan. We really want to go to Japan. What I'd really like to do is spend two or three weeks in Japan, doing a few more shows here and there at different venues of different sizes. The last few times I've been here, I've been limited to a few cities due to time, schedule and production. Sometimes you have to sacrifice the creative side and the fun side of it.

—You have the authority to do what you really want to do, so by all means make it happen. Dominic: Well, yeah (laughs). Anyway, we'll find a time when it's possible and we'll try to fit it into the schedule.

—By the way, there is a sign of a dog from earlier. Dominic: This is Olive, a Boston terrier (he says, showing me the dog stretched out and relaxed in front of him). He's very clever. Where's Floyd? Maybe he's upstairs. They're both very clever.

—Who's going to look after them while you're away from home? Dominic: Actually, I tend to take them with me. Olive is just over a year old and I only got her last year, so she's not ready yet, but Floyd has been all over the place, he's been on a tour of America with me, he's been in Europe. He loves it. He's always happy to play with all kinds of people backstage. Olive likes people too. When the show is over, she jumps in the car and goes to the hotel with me, and every night when she gets into her new hotel room, she jumps up on the bed with great joy (laughs). So I take her with me when I can, otherwise I ask family or friends.

Recorded on 20th July, 2022 in London.

Translator’s Notes: If you’ve noticed it, then you might’ve wondered why the Japanese journalist and the article itself doesn’t use the words “Covid-19” and “pandemic” (other than Dom himself). As I’m not a Japanese native, I don’t fully know the answer either, but I did pay attention to Japanese news over the years to pick up on information. In Japan, the government and the people do know and use the word COVID-19, but unfortunately the name that COVID-19 took in Japan was this: 新型コロナウイルス感染症 / Shingata Coronavirus Kansenshou / new coronavirus infection.

As you can see, that is a whole mouthful that no one has the time to say all of that out loud -even including the word Covid-19 itself- so they shortened it to just using ‘コロナウイルス / Coronavirus’ and ‘コロナ / Corona’ instead.

So I got used to seeing that whenever an artist or celebrity in Japan was confirmed infected by Covid and had to cancel events, they just announce on their blogs and on X [formerly known as Twitter] that they got Corona. And some of these words became familiar to me as well.

コロナ禍 / Korona-ka = Corona Disaster / Covid-19 Pandemic コロナ緊急事態 / Korona kinkyuu jitai = Corona Emergency / Lockdown

BTW, I wasn't sure what Dom's other dog's name was. I know of Floyd, but I can't remember the second dog's name. Was it Olive or Oliver?

[ciaoteamo]

Conflicted

pairings: (Y/N) x Rindou Haitani

Summary: Rindou and (Y/N) have been friends for the longest time. She’s always had a crush on him, but hasn’t pursued him because of her parents. She’s happy with the boyfriend they’ve picked for her… Or, is she?

warnings: cursing

further warnings: none

The breeze felt amazing on your skin as you sat in the light of the setting sun. Your headphones were over your head, one side on so you could hear your surroundings.

The sidewalk you were sitting on began to make your butt numb as you waited patiently for your best friend to come out of the convenient store.

“okayy, i got your sandwich and drink, that’s what was taking so long” Rindou huffs as he approaches you.

“what would i do without you” You joke.

“exactly” He playfully dusts off his shoulders and you roll your eyes.

“where do you want to eat this?” You ask, walking back towards the car.

“probably here, the city always looks nice at night” He answers. You nod and unlock the doors. The two of you climb in and you search for a spot and gave you a better view of the the lights.

“park there” Rindou points towards a bus stop. You park there and open the roof to get the full sight, it was always stunning.

“woah… looks at this..” Rindou says, sounding amazed.

“i know right?” You chuckle and look over. Only to find him staring down at his box of wings.

“they gave me all of these wings!” He smiles. What a foodie. You laugh to yourself and unwrap your sandwich.

The sound of chewing was beard throughout the car and you stopped eating and peeked over at him.

“wut?” He asks, cheeks puffed from the boneless chicken wing he was currently eating.

“music” You say and hand him your phone. He always would complain about songs you picked so you let him do the honors this time.

After a few seconds, a bass guitar was being strummed. It sounded familiar but you tend to forget what songs are in your list.

“i can tell by the title that this is ass” Rindou scoffs and you frown. You keep the title and it all comes back to you. You used to listen to this ong all of the time.

“you picked it, now listen, hater” You turn the volume up a bit.

There is a boy I know

We are friends, we are more than

Cause every time he looks at me, I get electric shocks

In my brain and in my heart, but he is not the one i love

You continued to eat your sandwich, but avoided looking at Rindou while the song played. You knew it would probably be awkward.

You use to relate to the song so much, still do. But eventually we all have to grow up. You could feel Rindou taking small glances between you and the radio screen.

You decide to take a quick peek at him, only to accidentally lock eyes. You look away immediately, but he was still staring at you.

You look back up and neither of you said a word, nor looked away.

Still, every time I look into his pretty eyes

Rindou and Ran had the prettiest eyes. The warm and welcoming violet always hid any ill will.

I think of all the things i didn’t even try

You’ve never done as much as kissed him, you’ve always wanted to. You just want to know what they feel like. Your eyes drift from his and focus on his lips.

And though I know that it’s only chemistry

You’ve kind of always had a feeling like the two of you wouldn’t get back the friend zone. But you were too young to understand the gravity of his presence.

There’s nothing in the world that I can do about it

You didn’t know when it’d happened. But Rindou’s lips were right on yours. You were frozen. You weren’t sure if this was really happening.

That was until his tongue ran along the slit of your mouth. You parted your lips and your tongues danced with one another.

His lips were soft and a bit sweet from his meal. His hand rested under your chin and your stomach fluttered.

But I love, my boyfriend

Mmm… Wait. Your boyfriend. What are doing kissing Rindou with a boyfriend? You quickly pull away and Rindou looked as if he was hurt.

He is good to me, he’s a good man

“what’s wrong?” He asks, genuinely concerned.

“this is wrong, fuck Rindou!” You put a hand on your head and sigh.

He takes care of me, when I need it

“well… I don’t regret it” He says quietly. You look at his face to find it’d become his normal blank look.

“still, Sam is going to hate me when he finds out” You shake your head.

He’s the one i want to have children with

“you don’t even like him (Y/N), just drop him” He shrugs. A shift in mood happened in an instant. Is he for real?

“are you stupid Rindou?” You start off. He looks taken aback. “you know my parents. you know that they’ll kick me out or send me away!” You frown.

“they can’t do either of those if they can’t find you.. Remember when we were in junior hi-“

“Rin, that was a stupid idea made by two 13 year olds.” You say sharply.

Your phone suddenly rings and speaking of the devil. “hello?”

“hey (Y/N)!”

“hi sam”

“…everything okay?” He asks.

“oh yeah, im just a little tired from school” You answer. It was the truth.

“i see, well, i’m at your house. i brought some dinner for you and your family!”

“thank you Sam… i’ll be there soon, i’m in the city” You smile a little. He really was sweet.

“okay, come quick! it’s your favorite”

“okayy” You hang up the phone and wrap yo the remainder of your sandwich.

“don’t go.” Rindou says firmly.

“why would I listen to you? all you do is run around down with your little crew” You spat.

“i know you’re mad for what ever fucking reason, so i’ll let that go.”

“whatever.” You scoff. You were well over the speed limit, trying to get out of this conversation asap.

“that’s all you’re gonna say about this? about your life?” He asks in disbelief.

“what the fuck is “this”? There can’t ever be anything more than what is is right now. I wouldn’t be able to live it down!” You frown.

“… is us that bad to think of me as more than a friend?” He sourly chuckles. You blink and few times and slow the car down. You were just talking like your parents, that wasn’t what you felt.

“Rindou i didn’t mean that” You speak softly.

“fuck that, let me out here” He bags up his food and takes off his seatbelt.

“Rindou wait”

“just shut up” You immediately stop the the car and look at him with your eyebrows knitted. He storms off in the opposite direction you were going and your phone rang again.

It was Sam. Fuck i’m taking too long.

You could’ve cared less about dinner at that moment. You just wanted to go after your best friend..

[pokeheadcannons97]

I'm not sure if requests are open or not but can you possibly write hc's for milo gordie leon and piers about having a s/o who suffers from epilepsy maybe include their reaction to the first seizure they see, and things like how they handle when s/o starts to seize/show warning signs,

I only do 3 characters at a post so I am going to do Leon, Piers, and Milo since I have Pokemon Shield

(and mama Melany)

Also, I’m speaking and writing this from my perspective of helping my aunt who has seizures regularly and will be answering in what I do and other things that I’ve looked up or found that help, please let me know if I can make it better, thank you! <3 Be safe

Leon

Even though he is super directionally challenged, he is so very perceptive. He will be the first to notice when you are about to have a seizure.

The distant look in your eyes and the nonverbal responses when he asks if you are okay are always signs you’re about to go into one.

He’s by your side in an instant, holding the back of your head up steady while rubbing your arm.

“Hey, it’s okay Y/N… you’re okay.” He repeats this all through out it, steady and comforting.

When you blink back after a few moments, eyes bleary but answer softly back to him, he knows you’re okay and out of it.

Will immediately stop what he’s doing, be it in the middle of an interview or sees you go down in the stands, he is next to you to help you through it

Wont hesitate to absolutely eradicate any disrespectfully words or jokes towards you about your seizures

When you first went into one, he had not expected it.

The two of you were out having lunch together after Leon had invited you out for a date to get to know each other more closely. He had been persistent, always engaging you in small talk when you were at work at one of the local shoppes in Wyndon. Would offer to help in carrying heavier things to help you out, and to make your work load lighter. 

You had been perfectly fine, sitting across from him eating lunch at a local restaurant that you favored, when you seemed to be staring off into the distance as he was talking.

When Leon saw your Gothita get destressed and practically climbed up on you, he knew something was wrong.

He was scared, and that was putting it lightly.

With Gothita surrounding you in her psychic powers she steadied your body and instructed Leon through her telepathy to hold your head straight to where you wouldn’t choke.

He frantically rubbed your arms, while looking for your distant eyes to come back to the cheery e/c he found so attractive.

When you started to move slowly on your own your eyes peered up at him, the distant look fading quickly.

“Mmm…? Leon?” You asked softly, trying to attempt to remember where you were and what happened.

“Y/N!” He replied a smile forming on his face, full of relief. “You’re okay, my God I was so worried, are you ok?”

“Mmmhmm… thanks to you and Gracey.” You replied with a soft smile, giving your pokemon a thankful expression, to which she cried in happiness as a reply.

“Let’s get you to the hospital, to at least get a look at you. Then I’ll make sure you get home okay.” Leon said as he helped you up with his strong arms, letting your body lean against him. “I never knew you had to deal with these. You’re so much stronger than I could ever be, Y/N.”

Your heart thudded in your chest, your stomach knotting up in that similar way it did when you would see him visit your work on his days off from the league. Most people would be so scared and standoffish, more afraid of you than anything. See you as someone that needed to be fixed, someone that was fragile, and needed to be looked after like a child.

But Leon? He shown genuine kindness, he didn’t make you out to be this weak person who had epileptic seizures. He treated you with respect. As an equal.

You were strong, something that you did not hear often in your life.

You gave a small laugh, and peered up at him, your e/c eyes shining against the streetlights. “Is it too late to ask you for a second date?”

Leon’s cheeks uncharacteristically burned a deeper red and low chuckle came from his throat. “Not at all.”

Piers

There’s not many times he’s serious, but when it comes to you, he is stone cold serious.

Will constantly ask you if you’re okay if you seem more nervous or shakier than usual.

Always holds your hand when you’re feeling more shaky, will go into any quieter space to get you to a safer environment just in case

Even though his shows can be flashy and loud, he really prefers that you stay home or listen to CD’s of the shows of his that are flashier and with more lights. He’s talked to his producers about incorporating more epilepsy friendly aspects into his shows and videos so that more people can enjoy it safely.

On the times that you do watch him, he makes sure that the place is better lit, and no strobing lights.

Will rub the top of your head softly when you go into one, and holds you to where you wont hurt yourself during it.

He knew you had them, but you said that it was less common these days. So he thought that it would most likely be a while before you had one.

The first time you had a seizure in front of him, he was terrified and confused on what to do.

You were sitting beside him, listening to him strum on his guitar as try to work out the sound to his new song.

Your Kirlia sat beside you, listening too.

When he looked up from the strings and papers he had scattered around him, rewriting certain parts he paled.

Your arms were shaking as you began to fall backwards rather quickly. Luckily your Kirlia predicted this and carefully grabbed your shoulders and placed you on your side.

Kirlia’s eyes rose to Piers and she instructed him to gently rub at your arms as she used her abilities to work on the overfiring electrical impulses your brain was having.

Piers scanned your body frantically, your twitching limbs and far off stare causing his heart to race in nervousness. He didn’t know what to do, but hoped that what he was doing helped in some way.

Your Kirlia called softly as your twitching began to stop and your eyes regained their soft e/c hue. You hummed a little as you blinked back the glaze over your eyes.

“Y/N, hey… are you with me?” Piers asked, eyebrows knitted together, refusing to leave your side.

You gave him a confused stare and nodded slowly. “Yes…what…?”

Your Kirlia touched your forehead and you understood.

“Thank you… for helping me, Piers.” You patted your Kirlia’s hand greatfully. “And you too Meena, you did amazing.”

From then on Piers was sure to be more observant and learn about how to be better prepared for the next attack. The zigzagoon brigade are always alert and ready to go into pillow mode to help you not hit your head or hurt yourself. 

Milo

The absolute best at making sure that you are taking you meds and taking care of yourself

Always tries to make sure that you have enough time to get enough sleep and goes to bed at the same time as you to help make it easier

He’s used to dealing and helping new gym challengers that have anxiety problems, so he knows how to relax you and help manage your stress

Being as strong as he is, it’s nothing for him to grab you when your legs give out when you go into one, making sure that you are laid down on your side safely

His big hands will make soothing touches and coax you through it, making sure everyone around you is quiet so you’re not overwhelmed with voices around you

If you ever feel bad about having them, he is so quick to reassure you that it is never a problem and he loves you so much

The first time you went into one

You were battling him as your first gym battle, with your Espeon battling against his Glossifleur.

You seemed so strong, easily ordering move after move from your companion, but that changed when you started to wobble on your feet, your Espeon immediately ran to your side to catch you from hitting your head and braced your body against her own and let you fall at a slower rate to the ground safely.

Milo gave a wave to the stadium, with a shout of “Everyone stop!” and made his way over to you. The stadium went into a quick and silent hush. The rotom camera, now focused on you.

Your body jerked involuntarily, your gaze far off and unfocused.

Your partner pokemon gave a cry and rubbed against your body while Milo held your head to where it would be easier for you to breath.

“Hey, Y/N… it’s okay lass. You’re okay.” He said softly, his hat blocking out the harsh sun above you. He gave your cheek a few soft pats, his green eyes searching your face.

It took about a few moments for your hands to stop seizing and jerking. When they did you let out a steady breath. You blinked slowly and gave a low hum as your eyes refocused and fell upon the grass type gym leader above you.

“There you are, are you hurt?” Milo asked you, his voice lower but understandable for your comfort.

You swallowed, and went to slowly sit up, the sun from above now shining painfully on you. You blinked your eyes shut but nodded and turned to him.

 “Yeah… just...” you began and suddenly noticed where you were and felt the anxiety well up inside of you.

“Would it be possible to…stop our battle for today? Please?” you finished and picked at a part of your nails, cheeks flushed.

“I’m sorry but I think I need to lay down for a while, I’m just wiped after…” you tried to explain yourself, your Espeon chittered next to you, rubbing against you softly.

Milo held up a hand with a genuine and kind smile. “Say no more, Y/N. Let’s get you to the nurse on call to get a look at you. Make sure you’re okay.” He rose to hit feet and held a hand out to you. “Can you stand?”

You gave a nod and stood up slowly, but wobbled a little, your legs still unsteady.

Milo scooped you up into his arms effortlessly. “Just rest, I’ll get you there safe and sound.”

And he did, 

[ifuckinglovestvincent]

NY TIMES: St. Vincent Is Trying to Understand People

As she releases her sixth album, “Daddy’s Home,” the musician expounds on the lengthy documentaries, Janet Jackson bust and Joni Mitchell album that feed her creativity.

By Olivia Horn

May 4, 2021, 10:00 a.m. ET

Despite the hardships of the past year, Annie Clark’s sixth studio album came together with remarkable ease. “Maybe I earned a fun one,” Clark, who records under the name St. Vincent, mused. “Usually there’s some kind of ‘Dark Night of the Soul’ moment. And there just wasn’t.”

Clark, 38, spent much of 2020 shuttling between her home in Los Angeles and her family’s in Texas. But the record (“Daddy’s Home,” due May 14) was born at Electric Lady Studios in Manhattan, where she and her repeat collaborator Jack Antonoff landed on 1970s New York as their lodestar. The resulting songs ease away from the angular art-pop of “Masseduction” from 2017, opting for gentler, slouchier rock. The relative softness corresponds to Clark’s effort to treat the troubled, complicated characters that populate her record with care. Among them are the broke and lovelorn protagonist of the lead single “Pay Your Way in Pain,” Nina Simone, Marilyn Monroe and her own father, whose release from prison in 2019 inspired the title track.

Clark confessed that she did not meet her quarantine goals of learning conversational Italian or writing a tour bus cookbook, but she did read some books about the gulag. Calling from her “utilitarian” Los Angeles studio, she detailed 10 of her favorite things to watch, read and hear — many of her picks reflecting a fascination with history and an eagerness to unpack social and aesthetic violence. These are edited excerpts from the conversation.

1. William Scott Sculptures

I discovered William Scott’s work through David Byrne, at his place in New York. And when we were on tour with “Love This Giant,” we went to Creative Growth in Oakland [a nonprofit that supports artists with disabilities]. I had my eye on this bust of Janet Jackson. And then when I was back, I went and bought a bust of CeCe Winans. So I have these busts in my library.

A lot of the artists whose work I collect are people who are marginalized from society in one way or another. What I like about it is that the expression feels very pure. These are people who might not have all of the tools at their disposal or the education, or any of that, but they are compelled to make work. That kind of irrepressible urge in people — that I just find so inspiring and heartening and cool. And it’s completely divorced from any of the status of the quote, unquote, “art world.”

2. Adam Curtis’s Documentary Series “Century of the Self”

The way his work has been described is as emotional history or impressionistic history. The lines that he draws between events and trends are not exactly “A plus B equals C,” but the general thesis is like, “the collective consciousness is saying this.” As a writer, I’m always trying to understand systems and understand people.

3. Ric Burns’s “New York: A Documentary Film”

I used to live in a rent-controlled place in the East Village. But it was shady how I lived there, so I was never able to get utilities in my name. I lived there for 10 years and I didn’t have the internet, so I had DVDs. I used to go to Kim’s Video all the time and buy DVDs so when I would wake up hung over and be like, “Oh, just can’t quite make it out of bed today,” I would have something to put on. If I wanted to watch something it wasn’t like “Netflix and chill.” I associate that Ric Burns documentary with being either hung over or tired or both, and watching it in my bed.

4. Joni Mitchell’s “Hejira”

This is one of those Joni Mitchell records that I didn’t hear until I was in my early 20s. Everybody knows “Blue” and “Ladies of the Canyon,” but this is when I became a Joni Mitchell fan, with a capital F. This record’s just so deep. Her lyrics are … Cubist. I’m thinking of the one where she’s like, “In the mirrors of a modern bank/From the window of a hotel room.” And it’s all wiggles, you know? It’s like water, that record. And I don’t mean to make it about me, but I feel like I can understand some of the things that Joni talks about, like the refuge of the road, or watching the world from an airplane or being in a hotel room.

5. Maggie Nelson’s “The Art of Cruelty”

This is one of those books that I picked up six times and would get through a few pages and be like, “This is really brilliant,” but it felt impenetrable at first. Then I had this one weekend where the clouds parted, and I just could see it and plowed through it. It talks about the ethics of being an artist in a way that is so brilliant, and so not orthodox or finger wagging. I think it’s one of those books you can revisit at various points of your life.

6. Her Own STV Signature Series Guitar

Part of it was inspired by Klaus Nomi’s tuxedo. And I wanted it to hit my sternum in a particular way. I am cis female, so the way that it hits the sternum and then has a little bit of a cutaway, it makes room for my breast. But just one of them. There’s only room for one! I love it. It’s the only electric that I play, with very rare exception.

I saw people’s pictures of it from the Met [in the exhibition “Play It Loud: Instruments of Rock & Roll”], because I never got a chance to go and see it in real life. Most of the time, I just kind of like quietly put my head down and work — and then every once in a while, I look up and see something that I’ve made, and it’s mysterious that it’s in the world.

7. Wim Wenders’s “Pina”

I love Pina Bausch’s work. I was really inspired by “The Rite of Spring,” where the virgin dances herself to death. There’s this one particular movement that was like, drawing your hand above your head, and then when you pull it down, your elbow goes into your stomach — sort of like you’re open and then you’re impaling yourself. It just moved me to tears. So when I worked with my friend Annie-B Parson to choreograph the Digital Witness Tour, I was like, “Can we please incorporate this?” Another big thing: I was obsessed with falling. That was another big part of the Bausch work. How do you fall and make it look violent but not hurt yourself? I’d get a rehearsal room with Annie-B and just practice falling.

8. Vintage RCA 77-D Microphone

It’s an old ribbon mic, and it just sounds so good and warm. I know these are words that might not mean that much — when people describe sound as warm, it’s reductive. But it makes things sound and feel true. I don’t mean that it has perfect fidelity. What I mean is that when you sing into this microphone, what comes back at you feels honest. My friend Cian Riordan, who mixed “Daddy’s Home,” hipped me to this mic.

9. “Hidden Brain” Podcast

There was one recently about the idea of honor culture. You know, if someone is insulting someone’s masculinity and masculinity is tied up with honor, you have to avenge that insult. A lot of these “honor societies” end up with more violence because you have to save face and there’s less ways to assimilate conflict. The premise of so much of “Hidden Brain” is that we live by the stories we tell ourselves. And as a storyteller, that idea is very liberating to me, because if we live by the stories we tell ourselves, it means that when we get new information, we can assimilate that information and tell ourselves new stories.

10. Piazza della Signoria in Florence

The first time I was there was with my mom and sisters. I remember just walking through this piazza and having a wonderful time and wonderful conversation, and really being awe-struck by the architecture and the history, and just that life was beautiful. Another time, a number of years later, I was on tour with David Byrne and we had our last show in Florence, and I remember walking through with band members and then having the best dinner of my life after. It’s one of those places where, at very pivotal points of my life, I’ve been there and only beautiful things have happened to me.

[final-servamp-banter]

White Day Event: Tsubaki

His route is so much fun it’s unreal. Please. Enjoy.

Tsubaki: Ah, hello? It’s me~

Tsubaki: It’s the long-awaited invitation to White Day. You’re of course free tomorrow, right?

Tsubaki: Good. Then I’ll pick you up around noon. Make sure not to eat lunch before then.

Tsubaki: … Hm? The meeting place? Haha, don’t worry, you can go wherever you want. I’ll pick you up wherever you are.

Tsubaki: Well then, see you tomorrow. Look forward to it~

(He hangs up)

You: (…… I wonder how Tsubaki-san can pick me up wherever I am…)

~ 3/14 ~

You: (*trot trot pinch*, *trot trot pinch*, *trot trot pinch pinch*)

Tsubaki: Ahh, welcome! How strange that, although the weather is nice today, it’s still raining~ At least I thought so.

Tsubaki: Sunshowers like this are also called “foxes’ wedding”. There are quite a few stories about foxes, but in most of them, the fox is…

You: (What on earth did he start…?)

Player Choices:

1. Manzai? (Note: A two-person comedy dialogue)

2. A comedy skit?

3. Are you reading an old legend to me?

[All lead to the same dialogue]

Tsubaki: Rakugo! You said it last month, didn’t you? That as a thank-you gift on White Day, you’d like to see me perform an original Rakugo!

Belkia: *Neee~~~oooow!! Neeowneoow! Neeeooooow~~~~!!* (Note: Electric guitar sounds)

Tsubaki: Belkia?!! What are you doing all of a sudden?! Y-You’re noisy!!! I’m talking!!!

Belkia: Oi, Tsubakyun! Don’t nitpick my Shamisen skills!

Tsubaki: I’m not nitpicking, but, first of all, Bel, that’s not a Shamisen, it’s just an electric guitar!

Tsubaki: Fine, stop with the Rakugo! I’ll make it a song! Since I’m good at singing! Sakuya! Could you put on the usual?! My fully original song, where both lyrics and music are…… Sakuya?!

Tsubaki: Hey, where did Sakuya go?! I told him time and time again that he’d be in charge of the sound!

Belkia: Ahh, Sakuya said he’s going home because he got a splitting headache~

Tsubaki: H-How crude~~~! Lying because you want to go home is crude~~~!

Belkia: It’s fi~~~ne! ★ I got someone with wayyyyyyy better sense than Sakuya to be in charge of the sound! Hey! Come on!!

Otogiri: *shake*, *thud thud thud*, *thud cha*, *thud thud*……

Belkia: Super ＤＪ★ＧＩＲＩＯＴＯ～～～！！！★☆★

Otogiri: Hey, yo……

Tsubaki: That’s crude, too~~~! All right! All right!!! Everyone out!!!

Belkia: Ehh~~~?!!! Didn’t you call us here yourself?!?! And now you do the opposite and shut us out~~~~~~~~!!!

Otogiri: *shake shake*, *neooooow*……

Tsubaki: ………… Hahhhh. I asked Belkia and the others to help because I thought it’d be excited, but I’m sorry it got so noisy.

You: (They’re very lively…)

Player Choices:

1. It was exciting

2. I’m a bit tired now

Option 1:

Tsubaki: … Eh, really? It made you feel excited? What just happened? You have a high resistance to Belkia, huh……

Tsubaki: Okay, then, now that you’re excited…

Option 2:

Tsubaki: Of course. I understand~ Bel is a good guy, but he’s always in such high spirits, so if you don’t get used to it, you’ll get tired.

Tsubaki: All right, to comfort you now that you’re tired…

[Rest is the same]

You: (…? He’s waiting with his arms spread open, but…)

Player Choices:

1. Do you want me to pick you up?

2. Do you want me to hug you?

3. Do you want to do sumo wrestling?

Option 1:

Tsubaki: You won’t know if you can lift me a little unless you try, right? So I’d like to ask you to give it a try… That’s not it! I’ll hold you! It’s a hug! An embrace!

Tsubaki: It’s White Day and all that~ You have to get a sweet atmosphere like this for a bit, too. All right, hug tightly.

Option 2:

Tsubaki: It’s White Day and all that~ You have to get a sweet atmosphere like this for a bit, too. All right, hug tightly.

Option 3:

Tsubaki: Exactly, the way we are, get ready, get ready~ Let’s goooo! … That’s not it!! Why do I have to wrestle with you! I’m stronger than I look, you know?!

Tsubaki: That’s not it! I’ll hold you. It’s a hug! An embrace!

Tsubaki: It’s White Day and all that~ You have to get a sweet atmosphere like this for a bit, too. All right, hug tightly.

Player Choices:

1. (He smells nice…)

2. (He’s pretty strong…)

3. (…… He smells like… blood……?)

Option 1:

Tsubaki: Hey~ Don’t sniff me. Isn’t doing that embarrassing for you? Of course, I always smell great, but still~

Option 2:

Tsubaki: Ah, I’m sorry, did I hurt you? …… You’re okay? I see, that’s good.

Option 3:

Tsubaki: ……… Hm? Is something wrong? It felt like your body stiffened up, but…

Tsubaki: ……………… Haha, that won’t do. If there’s something like that, you need to pretend not to notice it.

[Rest is the same]

Tsubaki: … All right, let’s eat for now. I’ve made a reservation at a very delicious place.

Tsubaki: Once we’ve eaten and taken a break… I’ll perform a dance for you, as you requested. I may not seem like it, but I’m actually very dependable.

[End]

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

T/N: When you don’t get he wants to give you a hug, he actually says “It’s a hug! If I say it in Japanese, it’s ‘Hoyo’!”. Which, well, I could have translated like that... But the reason to go for the Japanese word is to make sure the player - who is assumed to be Japanese, thus there being a chance they understand “hoyo” better than “hug” - understands. But most people who’re reading this are probably not Japanese, so I instead just went for a synonym.

Also, Tsubaki, honey, you may be stronger because you’re a vampire, but I could pick you up, and I could easily carry you around piggyback style, don’t test me lmao. But I love how that and SUMO WRESTLING are options. Like, imagine, you’re on a date with a guy, and he opens his arms, whose thoughts would go to sumo wrestling?! ashdajkldjdkl

As for the lots of onomatopoeia, went with the best I could find (both in terms of “what is the Japanese onomatopoeia referring to?” and “the heck is that in English onomatopoeia?”). Original are “teketsun, teketsun, teketsuntsun” (-> *Trot trot pinch* part), “Gyuiiii~~~n!! Gyuingyuin! Gyuiiiiii~~~~!!!” (-> “Neeoooow” part), “shaka, zunzunzun, zuncha, shakashaka…… ” (-> *shake shake* part).

Team Melancholy is pure chaos sharing like 3 brain cells between all of them, and I’m pretty sure Sakuya took two of those home when he left. I love them so much asdhasjkdlhasj

[atsunflower]

Semi Eita x Reader

Rated: SFW — Angst, cursing, traffic accident, injury descriptions, slight mentions of anxiety and post traumatic stress. 

Word count: 2070

Author notes: and here is the second part of our F.L.Y collab. I want to thank all the girls from Knights of the coconut and in particular, both @mooshua and @neonghxst who were pretty patient with me and helped me a lot throughout this process. You guys are amazing and I can't thank you enough. I guess that's all. Please enjoy your reading!

F.L.Y Masterlist

If this can no longer resonate/ No longer make my heart vibrate/ Then like this may be how/ I die my first death

He felt suffocated as the breath hitched on his throat.

Staring at his hands, the male recalled how said limbs brought the best time of his life:

A setter position at Shiratorizawa Volleyball club.

A desk job at the public department.

A promise as a rising star along his band, under a label with a contract too good to be true.

Roaming through his memories, he remembers that every single one of his  achievements were accompanied by lights:

The reflectors on the court.

The white lamps from his office.

The blinding lights from the stage.

Once had he everything he wanted. Now it was all out of his grasp — And lights, very similar to the last ones, now plagued his thoughts.

After all, he remembers when they blinded him before the car came crashing onto his body. Chills ran down his spine every time he recalled how the headlights of the vehicle were the last thing he saw before blacking out.

All it took was one second and then, a month at the hospital that turned into a lifetime of pain — it took only an accident for his life never be the same again.

"Maybe this is what they call first death" He muttered to himself, the words tasting bitter in his mouth as he took on his surroundings.

The constant tapping the secretary made on the keyboard left his nerves on edge and, added to the sterile scent hanging on the air, it felt like a reminder of the folder that sat heavy on his lap. In addition, the curious, pitying, eyes trained to his figure did nothing to soothe his anxiety.

Well, it's not everyday you see a rockstar sitting in a clinic waiting room, after he almost died, the man mused in distaste.

"Semi Eita?" The voice called from the door across the lounge. There, a male stood eyeing him as he made his way to the office.

The room was spacious, with a desk, cabinets, a stretcher and some anatomic models. A typical physiotherapist office, he guessed — not like Semi had ever been into one before, though.

"Make yourself comfortable, Semi-san" The brunette said as he organized some papers on the desk surface "I see it's your first time here. I'm Ennoshita Chikara, the physiotherapist who will take care of your condition from now on" They both shook hands as Semi sat on the chair. He cursed internally as he felt no force on his right hand.

"So, what brings you here today, Semi-san?" Ennoshita asked, eyeing Semi's right hand.

The grey haired male gulped before handing the folder to the physiotherapist.

"Here, this is the medical report. Shirabu-sensei made sure to specify everything regarding my hand." The brunette hummed before taking it. Semi couldn't muster up the courage to talk about his condition.

"I know, Semi-san. But I need to hear it for the history taking and you may know acceptance can help you through the recovery process" The apologetic tone made him sick.

"I don't want to talk about it. Could you please just proceed with the therapy?"

"Look, I know it's a sensitive topic but—" The therapist was interrupted mid sentence when Semi stood. The chair screeched on the floor at the sudden movement before the male tried to snatch the folder from the other.

Tried. 

The paper sheets scattered on the floor, since he couldn't take a proper grip on them.

Tears of frustration welled up on his eyes, as he murmured a meek apology only to storm out of the place.

Semi Eita felt the pitying eyes following him all the way back to his house.

At home, he felt in peace.

No sympathetic gazes and no condescending words. Just him alone with his own demons.

I need a bath. And a beer, the gray haired man decided as the weak hand carded through his hair locks. He flinched at the touch, feeling how dull it was — tactless, even. Just a bundle of flesh and bones hanging from his wrist. Nothing like it used to be.

Ignoring the pang on his chest, the man walked through the corridor. By his left, he saw a shining glass door and immediately, a sensation of longing crawled up his spine and clawed at his heart. He opened the tinted surface, entering the room.

The music studio was the same way he left on the accident day: the gray hoodie thrown over the chair, the paper cups of coffee scattered over his desk and the Moleskine with the lyrics he wrote that night. They resembled three months of hard work and the whole place, a sanctuary built of his dreams.

Too bad the room now felt like his own private purgatory.

Running his index finger over the notebook's leathery spine, memories invaded his mind. Regret gnawed on him even though he wasn't at fault — well, who would have predicted that going to get cigarettes late at the night would end up in a near-death experience? Who would've guessed that, on the way back to his condo, a drunk fucker would hit him with his car and vanish from the scene, without calling an ambulance?

If the medical help came sooner, would things be different? He often wondered, even though he knew it couldn't be helped. His friend, doctor Shirabu, said the damage on his arm was too extensive with a chance of recovery little to nonexistent. His heart stopped beating when he heard those words.

Looking back at it, Semi Eita regretted getting out of his house for such a trivial thing. Before, the musician had his dreams to push him through. Now, all he had left was a medical report — written in a horrendous handwriting, if he may add — stating that patient Semi Eita suffered a minor brain damage and multiple broken bones that caused a lower motor neuron syndrome with wallerian degeneration on the median nerve of his right arm — he didn't understand a shit about the medical terms, but he knew it was bad. Well, it's not like paralysed fingers in the form of 'the hand of benediction' could be a good outcome of an accident.

Benediction? More like a curse, he scowled.

Snapping out of his internal turmoil, brown orbs wandered over the music studio, eyeing all his equipment, as the man drowned on the nostalgic feeling.

On the far corner of the room, white tiles smiled at him — Though, it wasn't a sign of sympathy: in the far corner of the room, the black piano was smiling in mockery, as if it laughed at him, knowing his condition.

You'll never play again, The piano said

"I know!" He retorted.

Your career is dead, the piano chanted.

"I know!"

So pitiful, it snickered — and that was the last straw before despair washed through his body.

Semi spotted the electric guitar by his left. Grabbing the instrument by its neck, he threw it at the other. The wooden body crashed onto the keyboard, the ivory keys agonized at the violence.

Not that he cared, though. He was hurting a lot more than the piano did.

And the tears running down his face were proof enough of it.

Absorbed in his self-conscious state, he didn't see you entering the room, eyes roaming over the mess he made.

"Oh my, Eita!" And his body crashed into yours, sobbing uncontrollably. 

"Eita, love" You said softly, testing the waters.

"Get out" He pleaded weakly, both of you still slumped over the carpet of his studio. Your boyfriend stopped crying long ago, but sorrow still covered his face.

The sight was heartbreaking.

"You know I won't" You said, holding him tighter.

"[Name], get the fuck out!" He said an octave louder, pushing you away "The last thing I want now is your pity. And I don't want you to see me like this, either" Ever the proud man he was, hatred laced his voice — and even though you knew it wasn't directed at you and that he didn't mean it, it still hurted.

"I won't leave you. And I don't pity you" You sincerely stated.

"So why the fuck you're looking at me like this?" Hazel irises squinted at you, the hands clutching your shoulder tightened their grip — the hold on your right felt a lot more stronger.

"I'm worried" And then, he laughed.

Hysterically.

Almost scaringly.

"Why waste your time, huh?" You tried to retort, he beated you to it.

"Why bother with a failure for a boyfriend, hm?"

"Eita"

"What's left to you, huh? I bet you're leaving me now that my fucking career went downhill and I won't be famous anymore" The venom of his words scorched your ears.

Throwing insults at you, Semi didn't measure his words and nor did you measure your actions. A second after, all the two of you felt was the stinging flesh.

Of your hand.

Of his cheek.

"So you'll just sit here and cry?" You grabbed him by the collar, eyes boring into his "Shirabu himself said there was a chance. Are you giving up this easily?"

"Shirabu said there was a slight chance" He corrected you, saliva was sprayed over your skin when he screamed at your face.

"And you'll just take it, giving up without a try?" You were so done. The Semi you knew wasn't a spineless man who gave up so easily.

"You don't know how it feels!" He cracked again, the cry went past his mouth, wavering on the air. Your features softened as your hands moved upwards, cradling his face.

"I don't" The words came ragged "But please, don't give up without pulling out a good fight. You're not acting like yourself"

"It's just so hard. You don't get how empty I feel" The man before you was nothing like your Eita.

"For fuck's sake, Eita. Try the surgery and if it doesn't work, wait for the physical therapy results. If it still doesn't work, learn to play with the other hand, goddammit" You leaned onto him, joining your foreheads "Just don't give up. Back to our Shiratorizawa years, you said you wanted to rely on your own strength to show you abilities, because you desire to do things were always too strong. You prided yourself for being free when showing off, then why are you letting this situation hold you down?"

"It's hard. It's like I'm dying, but feels much more worse than that" Words came in a whisper, still reluctant to consider the options.

"But did you die? Did your talent die?" You lightly shook his body, trying to infuse some energy into it "Did you, all of sudden, forget how to make music?" And he saw determination painted in the hue of your irises.

"But—" He tried to argue.

"No buts, even if you can't play in the band, you can still be a producer. Don't let life reap your art away from you" You pleaded, hoping your words could somehow touch him.

Peeking into his face, you observed its features softening as you felt his muscles relaxing under your palms and your boyfriend reciprocating your loving touches.

Your heart was finally at ease.

"How come you always know what to say in the right time, even if it's cliché as fuck?" Eyelids covered the orbs you loved so much as the words were spoken in a serene mode. 

Semi Eita felt peace.

You tucked the broader body inside of your arms, caressing the lean muscles of his shoulders.

"There's a reason why, other than my pretty face, I'm your muse" He playfully scoffed at you, tightening the hold on your waist.

"Who said you are?" You ignored his words, paying attention to the hair locks under your chin "[Name]?" He started uncertain.

"Hm?"

"You're right. Guess if I didn't die in the accident, it's only fair if I don't let my life as an artist go away either" His soft-spoken words meant everything to you.

Relief washed over you as your heartbeat increased in your chest. But the most important was how you could feel Semi's heart beating again.

I'm in my workroom, it's my studio/ The waves go darkly by in a throe/ But I'll never get dragged away again

Taglist: @anseoo @keiijiis @inarizakikoukou @deerixiie @bristil @maramalademadara @thedreadthreadanomaly @catharsisbabey @aprettyfruit @ttsukii @chasekudo @kenmashoe @daijoubuyuki @krusty-cheetahs @ohmythatmiya

[cthomashoodstory]

Best Years but Not in the Same Way (19)

Calum Hood x Reader

Previous Part

I’m sorry english isn’t my native. And also i got pictures from google and if one of it is yours and you want to take it down pls let me know. I’m so nervous to write this part sjsjsj i hope someone is reading. And btw if you found this post for the first time, i suggest you to read the entire parts i gave the link below! And so sorry if u get bored :(

Masterlist

-

”It’s literally 8 A.M in the morning, you better be have a good thing to showed me or i will hate you.” Calum called you in the morning saying that he had something to showed you and you have to come and now here you are. “What?” You asked him when you were in his room.

Then he pulled out a very cute floral dress. “I bought this for you last month for Ash birthday party today. I don’t know if you like this or not, but here it is. I hope you like it. And also the heels, i love it so i bought it to you.” He gave it the dress and heels and now you were just speechless because this dress is hella cute and expensive.

“I forgot it’s Ashton birthday...,” you paused. “Do you have something to be give to him?” He shooked his head. “Let’s get out then?” He nodded an you two headed out.

After 5 hours went out to store by store and had lunch, you and Calum finally arrived at home at 2 P.M.. You bought a Leather Lace-up Ankle boots for Ashton as present because he said he love wearing boots and he kinda collecting it right now so it might be a good gift for him. And Calum bought an electric guitar for him.

“Hey i think I’m gonna get ready, since i took an hour to do make up so... bye.” You waved at him and ran to his bedroom to get ready.

An hour later, you our from his room and you saw him stood waiting for you. “You were ready? Since when? Damn you look so hot!” You said it out loud and he blushed.

“Since 30 minutes ago i think? And you look so beautiful.” He couldn’t take his eyes off of you. “I think we should stay at home rather than go to Ash’s party.” He gave you a serious face.

“Why?” Suddenly you felt so disappointed because you just prepared for an hour, you got a very beautiful mini dress from him and now he wants to canceled it?

He laughed. “I don’t want any men to steal you away from me. I mean look at you right now.” He teased you and put his hand on your waist. You were inch away from his face and now you wanted to to something but you afraid. You were still afraid until today.

“Should we go?” You asked him and he nodded while pulled his hand away.

You went out and he drove fast. You didn’t interact with him on the car. It was just too awkward for you both.

An hour later you and him arrived at Ashton’s place. It was just 4 P.M and his house already crowded. You held your present for him and Calum also did the same. You and him went in and looking for Ashton. You finally met him. He was stood at the corner with Luke and Michael and Mitchy Collins.

“Aye my favorite couple.” He hugged Calum first and then Calum gave the present. And then you hugged him. “Awh thank you so much, Cal and Bar. Enjoy the party.” You walked away from them and joined Kaitlin, Crystal and Sierra on the counter.

“Oh my God, look at your dress, you really stealing the spotlight!” Crystal complimented your dress. “I knew it Calum has a taste.”

You frowned. “Oh Calum showed us the dress after he bought it last month. Oh virtually of course. Don’t worry he didn’t cheat with us. His heart is belong to you.” Sierra explained and you smiled while rolling your eyes.

“So how’s the progress with you and Calum? Are you guys kissed already?” Kaitlin asked you excitedly. You knew she’s a bit drunk since she held the red glass.

You shook your head and nodded at the same time. “We are not dating, we’re still friends but we ever kissed and thats it. No more further explanation.” You grinned and poured beer to your glass.

After hours you’ve been mingled with everyone, you decided to go to the bathroom to freshing up. While on the way you pulled out your phone from your sling purse and you shocked you got 20 missed calls from Mike and you got so much message from him, your mom, Julia, Tranter and other friends. But one notification that caught your eyes was a missed call from Justin at 3 P.M.. What the hell is going on? You could feel your face is pale and you panicked and ran fast to the bathroom. You locked the door and sit on toilet. You called Mike Immediately and you scared to death. Your mind flashback to when he called you 30 times because he worried when Justin and Selena got back.

“Saara Palvin are you okay? Why you didn’t pick my call?” He sounded so worried, exactly like 3 years ago.

“My phone went silent and I’m fine I’m at Ashton’s birthday party. What happened? Nevermind i will find it by myself and i promise you i will be fine, i won’t hurting myself ever again. Okay? Bye.” You hung up the call and searching on Safari about Justin Bieber. That’s really what you searched because deep down in your heart you knew if Mike, Julia and Tranter texted or called you at the same time, it really had something to do with Justin. And coincidentally Justin did called you and it really ruined your mind. The search came up and you saw a news about Justin Bieber and Hailey Baldwin engaged at Bahamas today. Wait what? Engaged? Justin is engaged? With Hailey? You read the headline again and locked your phone. You don’t care. You don’t care at all. He could do anything he wanted.

Then the bathroom door is knocked. “Saara? Are you okay? It’s me Kaykay. I saw you running to the bathroom worriedly. Are you okay?” She asked yo politely and you unlocked the door so she could come in. “Hey girl, what’s wrong?” She wiped out the tears that feel down to your face. You really managed to not cry in front of her but you failed.

You tried to breath slowly. “I think I’m going home now. I’m not feeling good right now. Justin is engaged with his girlfriend.” You finally confessed to her and she hugged you. “I don’t want people to know about it. What is my excuse then?”

She pulled the hug. “Just said that your mom needs you right know and they would understand. Calum would understand. You had to lie to them for your own sake. You need to rest, Miss B. And when you talked to them just thinking about a funny moments so that you wont cry.” You nodded and put the lipstick on your lips and out from the bathroom. You were separated from Kaitlin and walked towards the boys who sat down on the chairs laughing together.

“Hi guys i think I’m going out now, my mom is need my help right now and i will go to her place now. Bye guys, once again happy birthday Ashy.” You hugged Ashton, then Luke and Michael.

“Let me drive you there, Bar.” He held your arm but you brushed it off.

You looked at him. “No, you need to be here for Ashton. I will be fine okay? Have fun baby.” You kissed his cheek and left him as fast as you could because you were about to cry if you still there with him. You ordered Uber and headed home.

You finally at your bedroom and lean on the wall. You cannot cry because what’s the point of it? He has a good life and so are you. You are happy with your life, you surrounded by a very good people, the best friends who always support you, you’re happy.

You changed your clothes into pajamas and you sat on your living room. And you saw Calum texted you.

You felt bad for lying to him but this was the only thing you could do. He might get hurt if he knew the real answer. You really try hard to move on from Justin. It was harder than you thought. The past still haunts you until today. The memories still haunts you.

You turned on the tv and watch a random show but you didn’t really paid attention to it. Your mind kept thinking about Justin over and over. and you decided to keep your mind busy thinking about other by watching a criminal tv show.

It surprisingly distracted you for hours until you heard a message notification.

Ah these big mouth guys. Why in the hell they told Calum about it? So that why he asked you if you okay twice. He probably hated you right now. You couldn’t do anything but sighed. Calum must be hurted right now. Why all of this happened?

Then you heard your door being unlocked and you saw Calum walked in with flowers on his left hand and a totebag on his right hand. Wait what was he doing here?

“Cal?” You were so shocked when he showed up. He smiled to you and you knew he was hurted judging by his expression.

“Hi Bar,” he greeted you and handed you the flowers. “I just want to be here with you to cheer you up.” He signaled you to sat on the couch with him. And then you sat with him and put the flowers on your lap. “I bought you chocolates, lots of chocolate,” he pulled it out one by one. “Then a red lipstick because i know you love to wear it, and a tiny teddy bear. I honestly suck at this so thats the only thing i bought for you.”

You smiled to him and hold his hand. “Thank you, Cali. You really cheered me up.” “And i want to-“

But he cut your talk. “I know what happened, Ashton told me.” He held your hand tight. “I want you to be honest with me, i was so confused when you said you didn’t want me to drove you. I thought i made a mistake.”

You sighed. “Im sorry i didn’t want to hurt you, i didn’t want you to know that I’m hurt, I’m messed on the inside. I didn’t want you to hate me just because I’m still trying to find my way out from my past. I hate myself for keep hurting you until today.”

“Hey hey please don’t cry.” He hugged you and you cried on his chest. “I know moving on is the hardest thing to do, but i know you can do it. I trust the process, Bar. I trust us.”

You pulled the hug. “You can always find and fall in love with another brain, another soul, rather than stay and wait for me to heal the feeling.”

“No.” He shook his head. “I love you and i only want you in my life. I will always love you no matter how hard this situation is. I will wait for you.”

-

To be continued.

Next Part

[ashtonq247]

Kaminari Denki headcannons!!

Bc it’s his bday and I love him (this will not cover his fam bc I switch between backstories with him so much that I just have no clue)

Buckle up bc this is a very long post I did not mean to get this deep lol

Let’s start with the most obvious- he makes friends easily, but I’m not just talking other students, I’m also talking the staff. This boy makes friends with the janitors and the lunch ladies and even the teachers!! He also makes friends with the security bots and pranks them a lot

This stems from him wanting ppl to like him. I think this bc of the fact that his character sheet says he likes all things “trendy” - I think he rlly wants to be known as the cool guy bc he is rlly insecure of himself

And as much as I think he is very trendy, I also think he is a big literature nerd! I believe he is more likely to listen to audio books tho, but I’m not entirely 100% sure though. He tries to keep this underwrap, but eventually he does join momo’s book club and brings completely different analysis to the table :D

He is just generally into the arts (we see this in cannon- he plays guitar, is seen drawing Aizawa, references Hemingway) so I see him as a more creative guy rather than a logically minded dude

This boy has adhd, anxiety, and dyslexia and dyscalcula (he was able to work through dyslexia bc he read so much, but still has problems with his dyscalcula) and this causes issues for him in school. He also a HUGE procrastinator. He often feels stupid and dumb bc if it (also doesn’t help that even his friends joke abt it too, but as long as it’s just a joke he shouldn’t make a big deal abt it right??)

I say he has anxiety because of the way he reacts to when he is training- always panicking and frying his brain. I think what stans between him and being rlly op is his anxiety and view of himself

Speaking of him frying his brain, I headcannon he has litchenburg figures, which if u don’t know r these rlly cool scars that look kinda like branches with what kinda looks like flowers so cool tbh, and BEFORE u say “he obviously doesn’t have them cannonly” let me just say that his quirk affects his brain cannonly!! It’s not weird for it to also affect his skin!!! I think he might have had litchenburg figures if they were more commonly known as it is a very cool thing tbh

I also think that bc his brain gets impacted by his quirk, sometimes his nerves get impacted too. This means he sometimes can’t taste food (and he doesn’t eat it when he can’t taste it, which pisses Bakugo off) and he also can’t feel things as well (I believe the class figures this out after Denki went to poor himself some tea but didn’t know the kettle was still rlly hot and so he grabbed it not knowing he was burning himself until he handed it over to someone who then dropped the pot bc it was so hot- needles to say he had to go to recovery girl that day)

He has never been to the aquarium bc as a child he had terrible control over his quirk and that made ppl nervous to put him near water (he goes as a teen with the bakusquad and is absolutely floored- his favorite creatures are of course all the sting rays, jelly fish, and electric eel- cue bakusquad comparing him to the brainless jellyfish)

He also doesn’t know how to swim till he was in middle school (once he was in better control of his quirk he went out and learned to swim on his own bc he had to learn how if he wanted to be a hero u know? He never quit got the hang of it tho)

Storms make him very energized and his already low ability to focus worsens. Prone to accidentally zapping ppl. He mostly stays in his room when storms happen bc he doesn’t want to hurt ppl/ wreck electronics on accident. He doesn’t even get to chat with friends on the phone bc he would wreck it so storms get rlly lonely :(

Also is basically a lightning rod. It hurts bc of how forceful it is, but it’s also not that big of a deal to him

Is prtty forgetful unfortunately due to all the times he fried his brain. It’s something he really tries not to think about

He probs can’t sleep very easily due to all his energy

He hates frying his brain bc it’s very hard to understand what’s going on when he does. Everything is a lot more sluggish and things are simultaneously way too much and he gets hyper sensitive and at the same time his senses are also very groggy and weird. It’s over all a bad time, but he got used to it

Whenever he fried his brain instead of being all wheyyy and thumbs upy he use to act more vegetative which rlly freaked ppl out so he eventually learned to get to where he is now when he fries his brain

Kids use to take advantage of his whey mode and do pranks on him which often got him hurt, but he never rlly felt it at first so he didn’t mind to bad. As long it was just joking and they were having fun right??

Time for happy ones!! His favorite foods (besides burgers, those r his favorite cannonly) all have some coralation with memes (speggeti tacos, mac n cheese, “chonky” milk, chicken nuggy, etc)

He is a meme lord yes

Stans pikachu (obvi)

U cannot convince me that he doesn’t paint his nails black, maybe with a little lightning bolt on his middle finger. This boy cannonly wears a choker common

He does face masks with Mina!! I believe he cares abt his looks greatly, and does beauty routines with Mina all the time. I’m constantly switching btween wether or not he owns it, or is a bit insecure and tries not to show this side to much to the boys

Why does this show not give him skinny jeans?? I mean common his entire style calls for skinny jeans. Maybe it’s Japan fashion or smth bc if it was in America he’d have skinny jeans bc it’s the trendy thing u know

Cannot cook. Can barely work the microwave. Claims unmarked food and eats it at midnight

Has a lot of weird info stored in his brain- how weather works, psychology stuff, weird facts abt bees, etc- that he learns randomly, never rlly trying to learn them but it sort of just happens u know. This frustrates Bakugo and jirou to no end bc he knows all these useless facts about how 1,200,000 mosquitos is all it takes for them to all at once drain a human of all their blood in a second, but not about how to work the pathagorean theorem

Idk why I think this (and it’s a popular headcannon too), but he knows at least 3/4 languages. It just suits him?? Bc he is a ppl person??? I don’t know??

Gets major test anxiety

Teachers either love him or hate him no in between. A lot of his elementary teachers absolutely hated him and would tear him down by calling him stupid and annoying. In middle school when he learns to control his quirk better, teachers rlly liked him- in the way that class clown trouble makers are liked by teachers. He may not excel in his class but he is a pretty funny dude.

He is constantly either underestimated or overestimated. Kaminari himself does this as well. It’s part of the issue with his hero training

Cats do not like him. They may like being petted bc if the static electricity, but when Kami pets cats he just absorbs the static- no pleasure :(((- or he accidentally has too much static electricity. If so then only tge rlly fluffy cats like him. Either case, shinsou finds a cat that likes kaminari as well and it is very cute :33

THE class prankster. Even on the teachers! The death glare Aizawa gave him on the one time prancing him worked is one kaminari will never forget (he still tries to prank him despite this lol)

Constantly teasing Bakugo as a way to press his buttons. It’s debatable on wether or not this helps bakugo’s anger issues

He is the wingman between Bakugo and Kirishima change my mind!!

Also mandatory kaminari is bisexual headcannon bc he rlly gives me those vibes. I think he doesn’t know yet that he’s bisexual, and when he thinks a fellow bro is hot he thinks he’s just admiring his bro u know. Maybe even thinks he is jealous. He does flirt with all genders tho mostly as a joke. He draws dicks as jokes but he always puts a little too much detail in them for him to rlly be straight

Can be used as a defibrillator as long as he can focus

Honestly there’s so much stuff kaminari has the potential to do with his quirk it’s a shame the manga/anime doesn’t use it

Like I rlly want to see him use his quirk in training to blow out all the lights in a building so he can use it for his advantage

That’d be badass

Also his quirk makes him very hard to be caught when their training. He can slip out of ppls grasp easily with a shock, and he also just has good reflexes in genral (I think this is cannon). Cue class 1-a running around trying and failing to catch him lol. Their best bet is to get him to fry his brain :(

He was popular in school before UA bc of his quirk and bc of how charming and easy to get a long with he is. This lead a lot of his friends to be very shallow. He didn’t rlly think about wether or not someone was trying to be his friend or not, he just liked being liked. This lead him to his whole liking trendy things, and he often felt that if he wasn’t seen as cool or funny his friends would all leave him. His whole rlly liking to talk thing caused a lot of ppl to think he was annoying at times, but he was never rlly able to lose that trait

The bakusquad was the first friend group he got rlly close too. He felt he can be himself around them and be the crackhead he was always meant to be. He still always concerned about wether they might leave him if he’s too annoying bc of anxiety but he’s getting better :)

He is a bringer of chaos and that’s part of his charm! Never dull with Denki around. He’s always doing the weirdest stuff, and ever since Mina, Kiri, and Sero, this has only doubled!

He is always calling Momo a genius (bc she is) and they are rlly good friends

Is an unofficial emo squad member (just look at his hero costume)

A sinnamon roll I’m srry but he ain’t a cinnamon roll. He has a dirty mind lol

Peepee jokes

Probably does tik tok dances I’m sorry

Nintendo fan for life

Xbox or PlayStation?- “Nintendo wut u mean”

Abbreviates so much it’s kinda hard to read,. Like if u thought I was bad this boy is soo much worse

It’s kinda ironic bc he has a very large vocabulary lol

He only uses it when he’s being sassy or very passionate

Mixes his gen z lingo with his big brain vicab to create atrocities of sentences

”bro the rise of the proletariat is lit tbh”

He is the worst to text with. He gives Bakugo aneurysms

Yeet yote to be yoted

3am shower thoughts

Unpopular opinion: i don’t think he likes weed. It probs reminds him too much of his whey mode

He’s a good strategist, but let’s the other team members think of the plans bc of insecurity, and otherwise his anxiety causes his smartness to shut down

Very good at zoning out. Sometimes he accidentally zones out so hard during class he misses the entire lesson and is only brought out bc of the school bell. Aizawa is best at snapping him out of it

Tbh I don’t think UA would be good with mental health. You’d think they’d hire a professional therapist or smth, but maybe it’s bc hero’s are so glorified ppl don’t ever think about these issues

I doubt the teachers had very good teacher training u know

We’ve mostly seen young heroes. I bet that’s bc they die so often, and if they don’t die in battle the mental health issues that stem from trauma and the media’s pressure are such an issue that it’s not uncommon for hero work to have high suicide rates

Anyway I’m starting to lose track of things thanks for coming to my ted talk I think I’ll stop here

[geminiblackout]

{Random HPCs} All the icons cause i'm too lazy to add them all!

||  RANDOM HC MEMES (Finished!) || This is a long, long post. So everything will be under read more!

🥳 -How do they spend their birthdays? Jackson: He loves a small outing with his friends. Bowling, dinner out, video game cafes, he really does not need a lot. However, he’s not a very social person, and would prefer to keep these outings to close friends only. Even the idea of people coming up to him to wish him a happy birthday is a little nerve wracking, he doesn’t like all the attention. Holt: Holt doesn’t really understand what a birthday party is supposed to be since he didn’t have a lot growing up (He was only able to be out at night, when most of the other kids would be asleep depending on the time of year). Now, he would prefer to throw his own party or event and invite anyone who wants to come. 

🎃 -What’s their favorite holiday? Reasons? Jackson: Jackson has always been a fan of horror movies, so he really enjoys Halloween. He is definately the type to not get scared because ““he knows exactly what is going to happen next”“, and his personal connections to monsters allows him to pick fact from fiction. He still enjoys the genre, and doesn’t mind dressing up for the holiday either. Ironically, he really enjoys taking on a character outside of himself. Holt: Holt used to really enjoy Halloween, but after certain events he feels somewhat melancholy about the Holiday. He likes the party scene and the energy the holiday brings, but there’s still a part of him that’s a little iffy about it all. But, compared to the other holidays in the year, this is one of the best ones.

👨‍👩‍👧‍👦 -What’s their relationship with their family like? Oh dear. Their family is where they are canon-divergent kind of. They only have one parent, Sydney, just like in the books. However, like in the webisodes, Sydney is the Jekyll and Hyde monster and their father is an unknown fire elemental who left when they were extremely young. Technically, Jackson and Holt are the sons of Sydney’s Hyde and their father. They only have a connection to Heath’s family because of Sydney’s research and her desperation to get help once Holt appeared around age four. Emma, their grandmother, was completely clueless on how to raise a half monster child, and when Sydney became a mother, she was even more clueless on how to raise a half Hyde half Fire Elemental child. Heath’s family was extremely helpful in this, even if Jackson spent far more time with Heath than Holt ever did (Queue: Heath didn’t even recognize Holt when they were reuinited). Jackson: Jackson had an extremely close relationship with his mother. She was extremely protective of him and he trusted her, even looking up to her as a scientist (or, in her case, science teacher). He never got into much trouble growing up and shared a lot of information with his mother. However, after discovering Holt, this relationship was damaged. Sydney gave him very little information on his grandfathers and on who Holt was, leaving him to have to do research for himself. Though he still loves his mother, there is a little bit of resentment there. Sydney generally lives her life as a normie and her Hyde does not come out very often, so Jackson has no relationship with her Hyde side. Holt: Holt has an extremely poor relationship with his mother. She projected a lot of her hatred towards her own Hyde onto him, and was scared of what Holt would mean for Jackson. Sydney did realize he was still apart of her son, and so still loved and treated him like her own, but the favoritism was very apparent. Holt was always getting into trouble as a kid, and he didn’t care much for school. He wasn’t too surprised that she had kept the secret from him, but there was a lot of frustration there. Unlike Jackson, Holt really didn’t care to know about his past, and from what little he does know, the idea of being related to Edward makes him uncomfortable. He aims to make the Hyde name his own and something unrelated to the man and the two Jekylls he lives with.   🚿 - What are their bathroom habits like? (How long do they shower, what do they do in the shower, what’s their bathroom routine, etc.) Jackson: Jackson is very clean, he’s a casual athlete and spends a lot of his time around chemicals, so he really can’t afford not to care for himself. Being part fire elemental, he really enjoys hot showers, so hot they would burn any normal human. His mother specifically got a shower to fit his needs, which much confusion from the plummer. Henry typically isn’t depicted with facial hair, so it is very likely Jackson cannot grow any. Beyond redying his hair and other basic hygiene, he doesn’t do much to care for himself further. Holt: Holt hates showers, but luckily for him Jackson usually handles that aspect of self care. Fire elementals and water don’t mix well, and the bathroom usually just ends up as a mess of steam and smoke. Water doesn’t hurt him, but it’s not a comfortable sensation. He is a bit more concerned with his appearance compared to Jackson, and will take more time to fix up his hair in the mirror and take care of his piercing. Holt occationally does wear eyeliner for outtings, but it is not part of a daily routine, and he wears very little of it. The mark on his face is a birthmark and does not need to be redrawn. 

🧼 -What’s their hygiene like, what do they smell like? Jackson: Jackson has to be more careful with fragrances since he works with so many chemicals and around lab mice. If he is working in a lab around animals, he tends to skip the cologne. But, when he’s not, he usually smells like spice and woody scent. Holt: He just looks like he wears axe, and Holt is absolutely the type to go hard on the cologne. It’s very sharp and distinguishable. Sometimes, their two colognes clash with one another and creates a scent unique to them.

🛌 -How do they sleep, how much do they sleep? Jackson and Holt, as a single monster, need less sleep than the average normie or monster would. When one side of the brain is activated, the other gets to rest. When one of the boys is out, the other personality is essentially in a semi-conscious dream state. This means that they only need to sleep enough to allow their body to rest since all the muscles are shared between them, so they really only need a few hours of true sleep a night. Jackson tends to take on true sleep more than Holt, and being part fire elemental he loves to sleep in warmth and will cacoon himself under blankets to make a little oven. Holt on the other hand really can’t sleep that well with the music blasting in his ears, though occationally he will take small naps. Both of them do sleep in very similar ways, and with the muscles in their face relaxed, the simularity between them is striking.

🧸 - Do they have any collections? If so, what? Jackson: Jackson is a huge nerd, and in my HC, really enjoys collecting Magic the Gathering Cards, D&D Dice and Books, and console videogames. He used to collect Pokemon Cards as a kid (And maybe, absolutely used to play with Heath), but he stopped collecting them when he started focusing on MTG. Holt: Holt really isn’t a material person, but he does collect records that he guards with his life, especially now that the trigger switched and he doesn’t have to hide himself from Jackson. He’s not a huge fan of old music so he doesn’t have a lot of vintage records, they are mostly new alblums.

💲 -Do they have a lot of money? What do they usually spend their money on? Jackson: Jackson doesn’t have a lot of money. It mostly comes from his family for birthdays and holidays, and since in my headcanon, he only has his mother and Heath’s immediate family, that isn’t much. Even though he’s fairly confident in getting scholarships, he tries to save most of his money for college (or, in older verses, grad school), but will occationally splurge to buy himself cards or games. Holt: Holt makes a good amount of money DJing. A single night can get him hundreds of USD. It’s certainly more than any monster his age should have. However, like I said before, he is not very materialistic, and he mostly spends it on equipment or nights out, but he does end up saving most of what he makes.

🎼 -Do they play any musical instruments? How good are they if so? Jackson: The last instrument Jackson played was the recorder in third grade. He doesn’t have much interest in the arts, not that he can learn any instruments at the moment anyways. Holt: Holt taught himself to play the guitar and can play both accoustic and electric very well. Not so much an instrument, but he is also fairly skilled in remixing music over a computer. He’s not that tech savy, but he knows how to use the application.

🍔 -Favorite foods and drinks? Jackson: Just in like canon, Jackson really enjoys mac and cheese. He doesn’t really have a favorite drink, but with his mother being British and the weird timeline skipping that went on, he does drink tea. Holt: Hot wings, the hotter the better. He doesn’t really have a favorite drink, but he does enjoy anything spicy. 

🕒 - What’s their morning routine like? Jackson: Jackson is usually the one to handle the mornings, because he is the only one allowed to drive. He usually showers to get out all of Holt’s product from the night before and combs out his hair to a messy mop before getting dressed and going, minimal effort required. Generally he doesn’t eat the meals given to him by the school just because it can be a little hard for normies to digest (or, even stomach) monster food, so he does try to grab some kind of breakfast before he leaves. Holt: Holt is usually not out in the morning, but in the rare occation that he is, he usually fixes up his hair, throws on a shirt and his jacket, and packs on the cologne.

[melyaliz]

Chapter 4 Master of Puppets

Fandom: Marvel / X-men 

Summary: Waking up from a dream to find you are living a nightmare 

Pairing: Peter x OC 

Notes: I will be slowing down updates on this story for a new story. It doesn’t mean I’m not updating it just may be more like every few weeks vs. every week. 

This chapter is shorter. Part of me wanted to dive more into the mystery of her not knowing BUT that’s not what this story is about. It’s about her healing from it. 

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

-----------

Gemma was locked up in the house. Something she chose to do. Something she had done to herself. The fear of why she had missed a week of her life too great that she couldn’t think of any other way. 

It was only until she could figure out what was going on with her.  Until she had some answers for her missing week she would lock herself away. 

Like a princess in a tower.

Only no one was coming to kiss her. 

Nights seemed the worse, the endless lights and flashing. Her body would ache when she woke, large bruises over her body, there were even small cutes she didn’t remember getting. 

She was going crazy. That was the only explanation. She was having some sort of night terrors that were causing her to self-harm. 

The problem was she couldn’t for the life of her figure out why. 

Gemma had a relatively normal life growing up. Her parents were married and loved each other. Her dad was a paster and while she knew the stereotype of overly strict religious parents hers had never really been that way. Always talking to her with respect and understanding. 

I mean they even let her feed her heavy metal obsession without much question. 

Her dad had even gotten her a guitar for her 16th birthday.

Yeah, her childhood had been pretty average all things considering. 

So why was she having this mental break?

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

Two weeks went by and then one night the reality all came crashing down on her.  

Lights flashing and screaming. Yells loud so loud it broke through the dreams of half faces. 

“Gemma!” is called out to her, screaming her name. Over and over again laced around broken words. “Hear… Gemma! I… fight… GEMMA!” 

White, flashes of white fading into a shape. Hair white hair on top of blurry body. 

Peter?

“GEMMA” the voice screamed again, “Wake up!” 

Her body felt like that night when she had touched him. Electricity burning inside her, lighting her up. Energy so powerful it felt like her whole body was glowing. 

It felt so real, felt so. 

“P… what?” she finally spoke outreaching through the murky waters of the dream. Trying to find the service. Trying to make sense of what her brain might be telling her. 

Suddenly it hurt. Her brain felt like it was on fire. Red hot flashes across her vision burning at the tips. The pain. It hunt, unlike anything she had ever felt. 

“Fight it! Fight Gemma! WAKE UP!” 

Her hand grabbed his and he broke into her existence. Breached the service becoming so real.

He was real. 

And she felt it, on the back on her neck the pain fighting for control. Trying to pull her back into the deep with the shapes and blurs. Trying to pull her back into her dreams. 

She gripped his arm pulling his power from him, filling herself up with his endless energy. Her body burning hot. The pain, she felt like it would engulf her. Burn from the inside out. 

Screams. Someone was screaming in pain. Screaming, unlike anything she had ever heard before. Someone help that person? Someone save them.

With each scream memories came flashing, a bony man strapping her to a medical bed. Four other people linking themselves to her. Her hair falling from a tall ponytail. Hair falling down around her shoulders. 

Her neck. 

The device suddenly felt so hot burring at the base of her neck sending fire up into her skull. How had she never noticed it before? How had she never felt it there?

“Get out” She snarled feeling it pulse through her fighting to take over again. 

“Get out of my mind!!” She screamed pulling the energy around her. Filling her up and focusing it on one point. 

Snap

And she was awake. Peter kneeling next to her his large brown eyes studying her. Behind him stood several other people who she didn’t recognize yet felt so familiar. Like the melody of a song that never existed. 

Turning she saw the other three, her fellow teammates standing there too. She knew them, knew she had been commanded to help, fight alongside them. Flashes of memories coming back. Colors and lights fading together showing bits and pieces of her life during all those nights. 

What they had made her do. 

Turning she looked back at the white-haired speedster. Her hands still gripping his arms as he steadied her. A wide smirk on his face glad she had finally figured it out. 

Know it all. 

“I’m sorry,” Gemma whispered taking his hand, “just one more time” 

“Wait wha...” 

Peter let out a groan as she drained him pulling his energy before backing up body lighting up with his energy. Then turning she bolted. 

“No!” One of her old teammates yelled rushing forward but she was too fast blasting him away. 

—-

They were gone when she got there. The lab empty. 

Those cowards had cleared out the moment they had know she would break. That she was coming for them

 Rage filled her as she stood there. Her fingers crackling with energy as she let the power flow through her lighting up the building as if any damage she did would really do any good. Would get back at them for what they had done to her. 

After a few moments, she fell to her knees sobbing. Frustrated as she sat there, angry tears flowing as she looked around at the scorched walls. 

Why?

Why would someone do this to her?

“Gemma?” his voice was soft echoing through the empty room. She knew it by now, knew it was him without even looking. His footsteps were quick as he appeared before her kneeling down. 

Peter.

She looked up at him through tear-filled eyes. She was sure she looked like a wreck. Sniffing she wiped her face on the back of her dirty sleeve.

“Why would they do this to me?” she asked him, her blue eyes searching his brown ones for answers. “I… Why?” 

“We can help” the voice was female, a beautiful red-haired girl came to stand next to Peter, “The professor can help you.”

“The who?” 

“Come with us,” another boy said from behind her. She turned to see him and a few other mutant kids standing in the doorway of the lab. “We help people like you.”

“People who have been used?” 

“Mutants,” Peter said bringing her attention back to him. His hand was out in a gesture of peace. Holding it out for her to take, so she did. The current between them sparking for a moment but dying quickly. She had no reason not to trust him. 

He had known, he had woken her up from this nightmare she didn’t even know she had been living. 

-GET TAGGED!- 

Forever tag:  @the-shadow-of-atlantis​​ @coffee-randomness​​ @0hmydeku @xx3fsxx @daisyboobear​​  @jason-redhood​ @hello-i-lovespiderman-blr  @pinkwitch21 @tomhncharliep  @cdwmtjb8 @olive-tini 

[loverrrss]

I Love You’s and Goodbyes (Nikki Sixx : Douglas Booth Imagine)

Summary:

Nikki refuses to commit to you and you only, but to your surprise things take a turn.

A tear rolls down your cheek as Nikki stares directly into your melancholy eyes. For a second a flash of sympathy and regret rolls across his face. The expression slips right off just as water would to a waterproof surface. 

You look down at your ripped jeans and worn boots. The silence is sharper than any harsh word that may have slipped from either you or Nikki’s lips. He shrugs his shoulders, and mutters something under his breath.

“What?” You ask never looking up from the ground. 

“(Y/N) maybe whatever this is between us should just end. Clearly we’re two different people looking for two different things.” Nikki shrugs as if you meant nothing to him.

He chugs a tiny bottle of Jack Daniels. You scrunch up your face trying to prevent the tears from falling, but you know it’s no use. It becomes too difficult, so you let one slip. You quickly wipe it away worried that he might think you are weak. You couldn’t get the image of him and that red head out of your brain. There lips interlocked dancing to the rhythm of their hearts as yours once did with his. It wasn’t like you were dating. You didn’t know what you meant to him, so deep down you didn’t understand why you were so hurt.

“Whatever you want Nikki. I know I can’t make you want something serious when that’s just not the person you are.” You respond giving in.

You wonder why you didn’t fight. Fight for him and the insanity he calls his life.

He stays silent, but his eyes never leave yours. As the seconds go by you feel more and more like you’re going to burst into tears. So you decide to just end the conversation, and get the hell out of there because you know it’s over. Despite how much you don’t want it to be.

“I hope you find what your looking for.” You whisper, and quickly get up and leave.

The next few days you spent avoiding Nikki and the band entirely. You were hurt that someone you loved and cared about just couldn’t love you enough to make you stay. 

A few days after everything went down you were moping around in your bedroom when your roommate decided it was a good idea to barge right in.

“Come on we’re going out. You can’t just hide in here for the rest of your life.” Lucie states matter of factly.

“Lucieeeee I just want to sit around and be sad.” You whine.

She crosses her arms, and starts walking to your closet. She throws beige plaid high waisted pants, a black cropped tank top, a black belt, a black jean jacket, and black doc martins at you.  

“Change into that, and get your ass ready. If you’re not ready in ten minutes I’m calling Tommy, and you know he’ll force you to come.” She threatened.

You quickly change into the outfit, and examine yourself in the mirror. The pants made your butt look very nice, and you couldn’t help but feel a little good because of it. Lucie really did know how to pick a great outfit out.

Once you’re all ready you meet Lucie in the living room where she’s waiting.

“You’re fucking gorgeous!” Lucie says admiring you.

You begin to chuckle and half jokingly say, “Very funny. Lets just go, so I can come back home and cry some more.”

“Alright Kiddo as you wish.” She responds.

It takes a few minutes to walk from your apartment down to the Whiskey a Go Go since you practically live right next to it. As you enter the venue it reeks of Jack Daniels and cigarette smoke. The sent reminds you of Nikki, and only makes you more sad. Vince’s voice and Mick’s electric guitar greet you as you walk deeper and deeper into the crowd.

Somehow Lucie manages to get you guys to the front of the audience. You look up at Vince, and chuckle to yourself as you see all the girls swooning over him. You never really did understand why everyone wanted him. He just wasn’t your type, but Nikki on the other hand was everything you could ever want in a man. Which just made everything even more depressing.

Their set finished up, and before you knew it the crowd vanished into different parts of the building. Out of habit you begin looking around for the band members wondering what they’re doing. You spot Vince talking up some leggy blonde, and Mick sitting at the bar having a drink. Nikki is no where to be found which was typical. 

“Boo!” Someone screams grabbing your sides.

You jump around ready to throw a punch at whoever it was. 

“Chill, chill!” Tommy laughs hysterically at you.

You reach up and hit his shoulder as you say, “Oh my god Tommy! You scared the shit out of me!” 

He continues to laugh, “Sorry (Y/N). Where have you been lately? The band’s missed you especially, Nikki.”

“You’re hilarious Tommy. Nikki does not miss me.” You respond avoiding the question.

“He does. I promise. He’s not the same without you around.” Tommy frowns down at you.

You stay silent trying to believe what he’s saying.

“I don’t know what happened between you two, but I know whatever it is Nikki regrets it. Just talk to him.” Tommy pats your shoulder, and leaves probably searching for Lucie.

You stand there in shock wondering if you should allow yourself to feel hope. To risk the possibility of both your happiness and hopefulness being shot down completely by the man you love with all of your heart. 

You snap yourself out of a daze, and begin to search for Nikki. After a few minutes you spot his dark hair in the corner of the room. He’s flirting with some beautiful blonde, and for a second he looks over at you. He smiles once he notices that your eyes had met his, and it’s a real smile. Not a phony pretend smirk, but you shake all emotions running through your brain. You remember that he’s flirting with some other girl and not you. You break eye contact and turn away walking quickly as far away as you can get.

You hear him call your name, but you keep walking. Simply because you knew if you spoke to him it would just hurt more. Somehow he catches up to you once you leave the place. 

“(Y/N) wait up!” He shouts.

You stop dead in your tracks. Tears well up in your eyes as you spin around quickly.

“What do you want.” You choke out.

“I found what I was looking for.” Nikki says as he takes a step closer to you.

“And what’s that Nikki? That red head or the beautiful blonde that you were just talking to? Or is it drugs? Sex? Please enlighten me. What exactly were u looking for?” You snap at him as you look up at his piercing eyes.

He was towering over you, but for the first time you didn’t feel intimidated by him. You couldn’t tell if it was the anger and rage, or if it was the fact that you were just done. 

“It’s you.” He states blinking slowly as he says the word ‘you’.

You stay completely silent not knowing what to say. Not knowing if it’s the truth or if it’s some cruel joke. The trees sway with the breeze. A homeless man takes a swig from a bottle. The clouds separate around the moon, but you pay attention to none of it.

He continues, “It has always been you. I just never realized it, or maybe I did I just didn’t want to admit it. Without you nothing makes sense. You fill this massive hole in my heart, and I’m sorry (Y/N). I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you sooner. I’m sorry that I didn’t fight. That I took you for granted, and that i never told you I loved you. I am now. I love you (Y/N).”

The cars speed by. Quiet Riot begins their set inside. Vince fucks that leggy blonde in his dressing room. Mick drowns in his glass, and Tommy dances around the crowd with Lucie. But you don’t see any of it. You only see Nikki, and you only hear the words that escape from his lips. 

Without hesitation you reach up, and smash your lips against his. Your lips interlock, and your breath becomes one. Your lips dance once again to the rhythm of your heartbeat, but for the first time your heart beats for no one but him. 

As your lips slowly separate you whisper, “I love you.”   

[agreekdemigod]

Coffee Whim

“Your designs are always so colorful.”

The brush traced a long curve in the canvas, lining in pastel colors the figure of a profile.

“Are you sure you don’t want any of them as your protagonist?”

The shadow must be done right, if he didn’t want it to look opaque. Light shades to enhance the curve of her cheeks and lips, curved in a peaceful smile.

“I wish I had such amazing ideas.”

Should he add a bit of orange at the tips of the petals? Or maybe at the base of the flowers. But then the colour would contrast with the blond of her hair and that just wouldn’t work.

The tips would be, then, but very slightly, as if the sunlight reflected in her curls.

“My eyes hurt a bit while watching it but it is indeed beautiful.”

Adding one last detail, Kaminari left the utensil in the table beside him, eyes fixed in his last piece of work, his breath uneasy as he watched nervously the face in front of him.

His brain hadn’t failed him this time. All the details were perfect, as if she was there in front of him, real and reachable.

The idea of calling his sister crossed his mind as the feeling of keeping it only for his eyes thickened in his chest.

Later, he would call later.

*

All his life, Kaminari has painted everything his mind provided.

His mother used to say she and his father had to run to stop him from painting the walls, at the time when “no’s” didn’t mean anything to him.

He was so small and still that didn't stop him from holding a crayon, even before he learnt how to walk without stumbling. And once his grandma bought him his first brush, he was unstoppable.

His sister only seemed to encourage him. Her bedroom walls were an explosion of colour, doodles of their garden, their family and just random stuff covering every inch from the base to where his tiny hand could reach. Their parents gave up soon after he decorated their own bedroom too.

They had another artist in the family, there was nothing else they could do to stop it. And in all truth, they didn’t want to.

The walls in the house were white but Denki brought them colour, just as he did with everything he touched and everyone he met.

His teachers said he had too much energy, that he was different. Some would tell his parents to find him activities to tire him up while others would state that he must learn to control himself, that everything could be solved with discipline.

The doctors gave his parents the name and a better way to deal with it and they accepted it as a part of the son they loved and cared about and heard attentively  the recommendations that would help their kid to integrate in a society not as comprensible as them.

They encouraged him and were with him with every step he took, ready to catch him everytime he fell.

Denki learnt how to play the guitar from his father himself, and went to his first art class thanks to his mother.

He learnt that drawing helped him with his ADHD and that listening to things was an easier way to memorize complicated stuff.

He learnt the tricks to control his anxiety and how to make his hands movements less obvious in public, specially after being hours sitting in a classroom with his mind flying miles away from the teacher's explanation.

It wasn’t perfect and most of the times he still got nagged by the adults for not staying steady more than ten minutes but he learnt to get used to that too, to shrug off the harsh words or stares, even when sometimes they hurt so much that he had the go to hide in his  mother's arms to find understanding

Things are inevitable in this world, she would say, pressing her cheek against his, her curls tickling Denki's skin.That close to her, he could smell her shampoo and the scent of coffee in her clothes. Things such as love and fate. And you, my dear, are one of those things. You are inevitable, Denki. Inevitable to love and impossible to forget and ignore. She would kiss his temple then and would caress his blonde hair with her nose as she whispered,

You are our star.

*

Denki loved coffee even before tasting it for the first time.

He loved the smell of it lingering on his house’s kitchen, the way his father seemed so happy while drinking it and the profundity of its colour, neither brown nor black and sometimes with a hint of gold.

And he loved its flavour, of course, the sweet and bitter taste of it against his tongue and the million ways it could be prepared and still taste so rich and contradictory.

He loved coffee and the way his mother would smile while preparing it, with the attentive stares of the three coffee addicts in the household on her, as they waited impatiently for it to be ready.

And he kept loving it, even after she wasn’t there to prepare it anymore.

*

“...now I have to find a new fucking job that isn’t a total waste of time and without a shitty pay.” Bakugou growled and Kaminari kicked a can in the middle of the street, doing it a couple of times more before picking it up, talking to the other end of the line as he did so.

“I mean, you could have let that old woman shout at you? I know it would have been shitty but at least that would have let you keep your job. It would be difficult to get hired at this time of the year.” The can clanked when he throw it in the trash bin, loud enough to rival Bakugo's rude scoff.

“And let that fucker continue her life without no one telling her how much she sucked? No way. I may have been fired but shit I don’t regret anything.”

Kaminari sighed but nodded nonetheless. He was right, this world sure needed more people that would face middle class woman to suck it up and stop acting as if everyone debt them something.

Bakugou started ranting again and Kaminari readjusted his grip on his backpack, heavy because of the new assignments and homework he didn't have the energy or motivation to do.

The second part of the semester had barely started and he could already feel the fatigue and stress of the upcoming final project.The fact that he should had started planning it weeks ago wasn't helping either.

And that's why he was there that day.

The tinkle of the doorbell of The Coffee Whim welcomed him as a feeling similar to homecoming replaced the anxiety on his chest and the warm and exquisite scent of the coffee filled his nostrils.

The place was rather small, with wooden floors and big picture windows towards the main street, sofas and rounded tables spread around in an organized disorder. The walls were surprisingly empty, though: only a poster of a porcelain cup and a cork board with coffee recipes hanging on the main wall.

“I'm saving the space for your works, dear.” The owner replied when Kaminari had mentioned it casually one afternoon. “Now, where is the promised portrait of my son?”

Denki had laughed before shrugging helplessly.

“He keeps running away everytime he sees me, how can I paint a kid like that?.”

Kaminari had known Mrs. Midoriya since the opening of the café. He had wandered there one night, back in his highschool days, in the middle of a sexuality crisis that had been eating him for the last year.

He must had been looking as pitiful as he felt because she had smiled kindly to his mumbling and added extra cream and chocolate chips to his order. Kaminari had loved her since then.

She wouldn't be there that time though, having getting married only a few days ago. Her honeymoon would probably last, at least, one more month, and Kaminari sure missed her as well as he was happy for her. (The premise was still open though which he was very thankful for)

The cafe was deserted that day, no sign of Mineta or any of the other baristas at the other side of the counter. They were probably in the kitchen, playing on their phones while enjoying the lazy day.

Instead, a black haired guy was behind the register, his black eyes looking uninterested at the numbers on the screen.

Kaminari stopped in his tracks when he got close enough to see his features. The guy wasn't someone he knew but there was something, like a sensation of deja vu in the back of his mind, that made him feel intrigued.

It had happened before, when he had met some of his friends, random people on the streets or even teachers.

Kirishima used to joke it was because they had met in another universe, maybe in a world of superheroes and villains( or in a medieval world depending on whatever Kirishima's mood that day was. They all had gotten use to his writer mumbling by that point.).

“Oi, are you still there, Denki?”

Bakugou’s voice brought him back, and the blond got suddenly aware of how strange he might look there, standing in the middle of the café while staring at an stranger.

“Just about to order some coffee before heading to the dorms, want me to get you something?”

“A macchiato.”

“Got it. See ya there.”

“Be quick.”

Kaminari put his phone on his hoodie's pocket, took a long breath and went right to the register where the guy hadn’t move an inch in the last minute.

The deja vu sensation stayed there, only increasing when the guy looked up and a pair of black eyes were directed at him.

Truth to be told, he looked miserable. That close, the blonde could see the bags under his eyes, the sick pale tone of his skin and a messy hair as if he hadn’t brushed it for three days straight. He also had one long strip hanging off his hoodie’s sleeve, for some reason.

And still, Kaminari could swear he felt like electricity, shivers of excitement going through his body, like the ones he had when inspiration strike him before painting a new work.

How strange.

*

“-do chai”

Sero stared at the yellow sun eyes for a long moment, his sleep deprived brain trying to focus on what the guy in front of him was saying, his senses still too numb to process  anything that wasn't the utter pain of his back, after a whole night sitting on his desk working on a groupal homework assigned a week ago.

The guy looked around his age, tho he was significantly shorter. He black highlights in his golden hair, a pair of very pretty eyes and a friendly smile, wavering with nervousness as Sero’s silence prolonged.

Oh right. Coffee.

God, he was such a mess.

“Ah, I’m sorry but could you please repeat your order?”

The guy's smile turned sympathetic, in that weird way a college student can recognise another of their kind and their suffering.

“A macchiato and a nevado chai, please.”

As Sero worked, his arms moving as if they had been programated, he could feel the guy's gaze on him. Golden eyes following his movements with careful attention. Evaluating.  

Had they met before? Sero couldn't tell, as tired as he was, but he was sure he would have remembered him. The guy was cute he couldn't deny that.

He was so going to regret not to try to start a conversation or getting his number, once he was wide awake again.

It would be for the best tho. It was too risky, he would probably said something that would ridicule himself, or even worse, something that could offend him.

So no hitting on that dude today.

Handling him his order, Sero looked at the names written in his messy calligraphy in both cups as they slid in the counter.

Denki. Katsuki.

Which one would be his name? The name Denki certainly fit him but who knows, maybe it was the other one. Guessing his name was probably the only thing he could do right now about this guy.

“It’s Denki” the guy said, and Sero blinked, realizing that he had been voicing his thoughts out loud for who knows how long. “Thanks for the coffee”

An small alarm voice started inside sero’s head as he watched the guy leave his cheeks itching in embarrassment.

Did he..?

No, he wouldn’t think about that right now. He just wouldn't,

Going to the kitchen to tell Mineta to get the fuck behind the counter (his break had finished five minutes ago), he noticed something by the corner of his eye, something long and white hanging of his right elbow, an strip of tape probably left by the twins before he got out of home that morning, as a reminder that he still had to fulfill his promise of playing with them that afternoon.

Shit.

His future self was going to regret so many things.

*

“...and he prepared the most amazing coffee, I swear. God, how can the same coffee taste so different? Kaminari's cheeks were flushed by the excitement as he moved his hands in big gestures, his sandwich longly  forgotten in the tray in front of him.

His friends listened in different levels of attention, torned between their own food and the blonde’s story. The college’s cafeteria wasn’t really full that day so they could eat without missing a detail of the story.

“Tastes better when the barista is hot” Mina said and Kirishima laughed immediately. Kaminari wasn't going to deny it. Only facts allowed here. And it was a fact that the dude had been very attractive, yes. Just like his coffee was really good.

“You say that because you haven’t try it, but I’m serious here. It is amazing.”

“I don't know it seems biased. What do you say, Bakugou?” Said Kirisha as he elbowed Bakugo's side, who had been hearing the conversation in silence. “You went there this morning, don't you?”

Kaminari felt his eyebrows rise in surprise. He didn’t know that. And he shared a room with the dude.

“The coffee was decent”

Decent. The group let out a choir of “oh”'s in appreciation. If Bakugou was saying that then it meant it had really been something else, in a good way.

“And the guy?” Insisted Kirishima, excited for an opportunity to gossip.

Katsuki shrugged.

“Rather plain”

Kaminari rolled his eyes as his friends giggled around him. “Sometimes I think you are made of stone or something”

“You told me he had a long line of tape hanging off his elbow.”

“And that only makes him cuter”

“Uh-huh.”

“Wait, why did he have a tape strip on his elbow?”

Denki shrugged.

“It was already there when I went. He looked pretty tired too, as if he hadn't slept more than a couple of hours. And I can tell because he looked exactly like Bakugou does right now, except for the frown of course, and more handsome.”

“Shut up, dunce face.”

“Why are you so meaaan”

As the conversation trailed to another topic, Kaminari turned his attention back to his sandwich, his stomach growling in annoyance for having ignored it for so long. Mina inclined a bit into him, her black eyes staring at him with interest. “You know, you never told us his name.”

Another shrugg. “He wasn’t wearing his name tag”  

Kirishima whistled, and suddenly all the attention was back at Kaminari. “The (still up to debate) handsome barista remains like a mystery” Bakugou barely blinked when everyone turned at him. “What nickname should we gave him?”

“Soy sauce”

“Rude. I suggest You-know-who.”

“And you call mine ‘rude’?”

“Tapey” Mina intervened, and everyone turned to look at her in silence before bursting again in complains.

“That is so lameee”

“And yikes.”

“Yeah, no cool at all.”

She had shrugged and gave them an small smile behind her smoothie.

“But it works better than yours, doesn’t it?”

They were willing to fight that. And they did.

*

Kaminari went to the café that same day once the classes were over. After the conversation with him friends at lunch, the mystery guy topic didn’t leave his brain for the rest of the day, his curiosity increasing as the hours passed.

The café was slightly less empty this time. Only three persons in line and two sit around at the tables. A friendly face was behind the register too.

 “What’s up, Shouji?” He said, once his turn came, not even five minutes later. Sometimes it was like the guy had six arms or something. He moved so fast, not that he was complaining.“Feeling better after your rest? How’s Tokoyami?”

 Shouji's eyes curved friendly, his mouth hidden behind a black mask with a toothy smile printed on it. ( It wasn't Shouji's style at all, too dark and edgy for that and Kaminari could bet that it was Tokoyami's, Shouji's best friend and roommate.)

 “I'm recovered but he insisted that I should use it in case there was some germ around.” he explained, pointing at the mask. “My own are dirty so he let me his, refusing to let me go out if i didn’t wear it.”

“Aw, you guys are cute.”

Shouji ignored his comment. “Anyways, what is you order today?”

 Kaminari smiled, trying to peek over Shouji’s shoulder to see if there was someone else behind the counter. It was impossible, the dude was huge.

 “Just a latte this time.”

 His friend nodded and gave him his change before going the kitchen’s entrance, his hands holding the door open as he peeked inside. “Hey Sero, we are almost out of milk, could you please take care of these orders while I go to the back and bring some?” Some incomprehensible words and Shouji nodded before disappearing inside.

 Kaminari's heart jumped inside his chest when he saw the tall black haired boy from the day before got out of the kitchen. He was yawning lazily as he tied his apron back to its place and his face shined with recognition when he saw the blonde there.

 Both guys blushed immediately. Their gazes trapped in each other for a few seconds before quickly looking away. It was an entertaining sight for the outsiders. And it would had been almost funny if it hadn’t been so lame.

 “Your name” said Kaminari, breaking the silence. It came softly, almost like a whisper but he would take it. Better that than a cracked voice. At the barista's confused expression, he explained “You weren’t wearing a name tag the last time.” Or today.  The realisation crossed the guy’s features once he looked down to his apron to see the empty space in the front of it.

 “I probably took it off before doing the laundry. My mind has been floating around these last days” Not the best choice of words. The guy’s blush got more intense. “It’s Hanta, by the way.”

 “Nice to meet you,” Kaminari said slowly, holding back a laugh at the guy distinct dorkiness, and trying to pronounce it carefully. “Hanta”

 Hanta nodded and went back to work and Kaminari allowed himself of taking a deep breath, fanning himself with his hands to soothe his blush, drawing on the fact he was opposed to him.

 Instead of going to any of the tables or sofas, Kaminari sit in one of the tabourets under the counter and waited for his coffee, trying not to stare too much at the barista and why he found him so fascinating.

He really didn't know why he was acting that way.

Maybe it was because he hadn’t had a real crush in years so his brain was overcoming it by making him act like a highschooler now that he finally has.  

Or maybe it wasn’t and Denki was just .

The twinkling sound of the porcelain cup interrupted his train of thoughts as it was left in front of him.

“Here it is, a classic latte.”  Hanta said, leaving as quickly as he came, ready to work on the next orders.

Kaminari didn’t pay much attention to it. He was still looking down at his coffee cup, where Sero had drawn a lighting in the foam.

Denki.

He waited until it dissolved before taking a sip.

*

As the bisexual disaster that he was, Kaminari took that as a sign to keep going to the café to talk more with the barista.

It started kinda awkward and timid, polite conversations made between breaks and orders as they both tested carefully the waters before taking an step.

Sero made a move first, asking for his number one night, just after Kaminari had finished his coffee and was ready to leave.

It was then when things started to move faster. Once they reached topics they were both interested in, all shyness was left behind.

Kaminari learnt Sero had his same age and that he was studying programming. He had three brothers, one older and two young ones, all boys.

 “I like to babysit the twins.” He said when Denki asked him about them.  “They are so different and at the same time so similar to each other. It just blows my mind.”

 Sero learnt that Kaminari had one older sister and that he lived with one of his best friends. He also learnt he was taking painting classes outside the university, in a total different academy, and that he had been doing it for fun since he was ten.

 “It is not like you stop once you know all the techniques” Kaminari had replied when he saw Sero's arched eyebrows. “You keep taking them because you just love them.”

 They both liked video games and anime, and despite not liking exactly the same genres of music, they were similar enough to enjoy it. And the same went with sense of humour.

“Obviously the pikashook meme wins over the galaxy brain one.”

“You say that because it is like the golden age for pikashook but once it is over you will forget it just like any other trendy meme. But the galaxy brain one is a classic. Totally superior.”  

 There were times where they prefered to be silent, though, not because they were tired of talking, but because they enjoyed each other’s company without interruptions.

 Kaminari used to observe him behind his coffee cup in those moments, taking mental notes of his features to sketch them later, without anyone to see it.

 His art teacher had peeked over his shoulder one morning, nodding in approval at his draft.

“A nice face, you should paint him next time.” Kaminari had nodded and excused himself to go right to his dorm, hype to tell Bakugou what a professional had said and that his opinions were invalid.

 At some point, it became a custom. Kaminari would stop by the café three or four time a week, (way more times he had visited the place in the last months) with the excuse of a coffee whim to tell Sero how his day went, the good and the bad anecdotes, brightening everytime he managed to get a laugh out of him and his heart expanding on his chest everytime he smiled at him.

So Kaminari kept ordering and Sero kept delivering,to the point that the coffee Denki had loved all his life became something even bigger for him. Something brighter.

*

Sero had watched Kaminari coming week after week for over a month now.

Sometimes in the morning, other times in the afternoon but thrice a week without fail, always carrying a backpack or a notebook. The days he wouldn’t they would chat until their phones ran out of battery or some of the blonde’s friend stole it because of the ‘bros before hoes’ rule (By Kaminari’s descriptions of them, they all sounded like awesome people.).

 There would be times where Kaminari would cross the doors looking like a normal college student, wearing a jean jacket, a hoodie or in flannel, and others where he would look like a total disaster, his ripped old jeans and simple shirt covered in paint and marker stains. (Sero would secretly prefer that one a lot, with his hair tied in a messy ponytail, paint stains on a side of his face and his eyes sparkling with excitement as he asked for the day’s special.)

 And he would always smile and Sero would be lying if he said he didn’t ask his grandma for more coffee tips so he could see more of that.

 “It is weird for you to ask me all of this in such a short period of time.”she had told him in one of their calls, just a pair of days ago. Sero had tried to respond but she interrupted him. “And it can’t be only for your job. Don’t they have their own recipes? It must be for a certain someone. And I don’t like the idea of my secret tips being shared with an stranger.”

 “I’m not gonna tell anyone, grandma, I will just prepare him the coffee.”

 “So there is someone!” He decided to end the call there before she managed to get more information out of him and decided to tell his mom.

 And just like that a month passed, with them talking over coffee cups and pastries, pretending it was something as casual as a friendship and ignoring the other's blush and secret stares, if only that bought them more time to not confess their feelings.

They would talk for hours until their voices got hoarse and his cheeks numb for how hard they had laughed, and once the night came Kaminari would say his goodbye and Sero would wave back, and they both will wait for the next time, looking forward for a conversation that hadn't happened yet, but they could imagine and replay in their head in such detail that it would be like a memory.

 *

And then Kaminari broke the chain.

 He had came one late afternoon, his hair even more messy and his shoulders dropped in surrender and Sero hadn't seen someone so miserable out of final exams season in such a long time.

 “Cure my sorrows and pain with your magical coffee, oh good sir.” The blonde had mumbled, with his face against the counter, in front of where Hanta had been drying a cup because of the lack of customers in line.

 Sero hadn’t said anything, he only stared at Denki for a few seconds before going to the coffee machine and return with a big plastic cup of a caramel coloured drink, with a lot of cream and syrup on top.

 “Drown them all.” He said as he waited patiently for Kaminari to gain enough strength to rise his head and take a sip.

 The impact was obvious. Denki's eyes opened in surprise as the mix of sugar and coffee exploded in his mouth and caressed his palate.

 “Jesus Christ, what is this?”

 Sero shrugged as if it wasn’t much, but the small curve of his lips betrayed his satisfaction.

 “Just an Arequipe.”

 The blonde shook slightly his head, as if trying to clear his thoughts, watching in astonishment the divine drink he was holding .“This is the first time I’ve tasted something like this”.

He could feel some remaining cream on the tip of his nose, but he couldn't care less. He would whip it later. “It is so sweet and cold. I’m about to cry.” He really felt tempted to, only to emphasize his point. “How did you know this?”

 “My grandma is colombian, and every good colombian knows their coffee.”

 “That’s awesome.” And then a question popped in his mind and he couldn't just not ask. “Can you talk in spanish then?”

 Sero had smiled before saying:

 “Un poquito.”

 It physically hurt Denki not to scream. Dear god. Could he get anymore perfect? He made a dramatic play of a heart clenching and Sero let out a muffled laugh, watching attentive how Kaminari enjoyed his coffee.

 “Back to your issue…” He said, after a long silence only interrupted by Denki's happy sighs.

 “Give me a second to put my thoughts in order. I can't even remember it right now. This has cured my everything” He took another long sip. “Wow. Okay, so humm, well okay, I will explain it all in detail so you can’t miss a thing.” licking the cream out of his lips, Kaminari took a long breath before starting.

 “I'm an animator student, and by the end of the semester we have this huge project where we write an script of a work of our own. It is not only an script tho, but a whole presentation of our story.” he explained, fidgening in his seat. “We write it all in a notebook, adding sketches of the places and the profiles and designs of the characters and it requires so many details and work to put it all together. It is like trying to put all your ideas in something real, in paper and ink.”

 Sero let out a long whistle. “Man, that sure sounds cool”

 “And it is! But it is also very frustrating because, what if i do it wrong? What if it ends up being the worst thing the teacher has ever read? I can't deal with this pressure, the ideas just don’t come.” Or not good ones, at least. “It is like I had lost the ability to create something that actually mattered.” Kaminari blushed, noticing how much he had said already. But the waterfall of words didn’t stop and they probably wouldn’t until he had said everything.

 “And everyone seems always so focused on my work, comparing themselves with me and I don't understand. I ve seen their works and they are all so lovely, so different to my own.” The blonde bit his lower lip, as his hands played with the now empty cup. “ And i thought i was okay with that, you know. With my style being so colorful and weird and unconventional.”

 The way he said it didn't make it sound like a compliment, despite that was everyone meant when they saw his works.

It never felt like it was one though, not even once,not for him.

 “Recently when I see my ideas I just-I just can't seem to find them to be anything else than that. I only see them as obnoxious and it is killing me.”

 Kaminari thought about his notebook of sketches, the art classes and the painting he kept in his apartment, hidden of the world’s eyes. “Because I do like drawing and creating. But now i wonder if that's enough. What can an artist do when they can’t create something that isn’t garbage?”

 And cut. Kaminari took a long breath as he tried to relax his fists, his fingers numb by how strong his grip had been.

Sero hummed, and the blonde gulped in anticipation. The black haired guy seemed to be thinking about his words, his gaze low as if he was lost in his thoughts.

“I certainly can't tell you if you are or not talented enough,” he admitted, “I haven’t really seen any of your works and to be honest I don’t know if my opinion has much importance when I barely know anything about art”

Kamina wanted to fight that. Because it would, at least for him.

“But,” he said, the tip of his tongue poking softly his upper lip, as he tried to find the correct words to express his point of view. “Sometimes what makes humans to create good things isn’t only our confidence or talent, because we could have any of them, or even both, and that wouldn’t garantize us to stop procrastinating and start doing things.”

“Without resolve, us, creators, are just nothing. Because we could have many ideas, the resources and abilities to make it happen, and it would still mean nothing if we just don’t get in front of the screen or paper and start working on it. Do you have the talent? That’s really good. Do you have ideas? That’s even better. You don’t need the approval of the rest to do what you love, then why would you need it while you are creating it?”

Opening tenderly Kaminari’s fisted hands, Sero traced with his fingers the marks the nails had digged in the soft skin, looking at the stains of graphite in Denki's fingertips as he spoke.

“Have confidence and resolve, and then you will immediately have the talent everyone always talks about.”

The blonde looked at his extended palms and Sero’s own placed gently on them. They were different. Sero's fingers were longer and paler, kinda bony even. His were smaller in comparison, with round nails and rough palms. The contrast was fun to look at.

“That's” said Denki, after a short pause,where he let go Hanta's hands so he could look right at his black eyes “...some pretty good advice.

He was met with a playful smile.

“Barakamon's wise words.”

“I really do need to read the manga.”

Sighing, Kaminari smiled, his eyes shining like liquid gold as he took Sero’s hands to hold them again, their palms facing each other above the wooden table. “Thank you.” he said and Sero nodded, looking at their intertwined fingers with an small smile on his lips.

“Always glad to help.”

*

“If you could change something about yourself, what would that be?”

“Like a possible change? Or something you aren't but you wish you were?”

Denki shrugged. “As long as it is a change”

It had been a few days after the last time they had seen each other. Since the night Kaminari had gone to vent about his studies, their interactions seemed to have changed. Not a lot, but definitely different from how it was before. There was a feeling of trust there now, as well as an slight vulnerability, than instead of scare them out, only made their bond stronger, knowing the other one wouldn’t use it for their advantage.  

They also touched a lot more too. they were starting to get more comfortable in getting into the other one’s personal space, as if the hand holding event had broke an unspoken restriction of physical contact.

And Kaminari had to admit, that he liked that.

Back to the present, Sero seemed to think a bit about the question before responding.

“My hairstyle, maybe? Mina keeps insisting that I should get an undercut asap.” (Yes, he knew Mina. Apparently they went to the same university. That’s why she had being so curious about his story when his description of Sero fit her friend’s looks. The world sure was small.)

Kaminari tried to picture him with an undercut and he found out that it was easier than he thought by how much it would suit him. His face would be more visible, changing his looks from relaxed fresh boy to mature and playful guy.

He would definitely look hot as fuck.

And people would start noticing it too, sadly.

“And why don't you do it?” he said, trying to sound unaffected.

“Because I'm scared of messing it up.”

Impossible.

“What about you?” asked Sero. “What would you change?”

Kaminari didn't hesitate. “I would like to have freckles.”

The blonde played with the spoon on his empty cup, his voice and smile going softer as if he was remembering something sweet, “My dad has them and so does my sister. I think I’m the only one that just wasn’t gifted with them.”

His mother had them too, around ten in every cheek. She had many more though, in the entirety of her shoulders upper arms. Like stardust.

A gentle poke on his face startled him.

“I think you have, though they are very tenuous.”Sero’s finger touched an small dot in Kaminari’s cheek, and then another one next to his ear. “More than freckles they look like tiny moles.”

There was one just above his upper lip too, just in the border of it and another one in the arc of his nose.

Hanta's finger caressed slightly the dots, following them all as if they lead somewhere, tracing an imaginary path in Denki's blushed skin.

The last one was next to Kaminaris right eye, that was widened in awe and embarrassment.

And alarm went off inside Sero’s head, too late as he registered his action and took off his hand out of Denki's freckled face. His own face flushing in an instant. “I’m sorry, I just-” He seemed as lost of words as the blonde himself.

Kaminari opened his mouth, his voice seemed to be failing him as his intense blush seemed to extend from his whole face to the tip of his ears.

“It is alright.” he finally managed to say, “It’s okay”

Kaminari tried to shrugged it off but the memory of Sero's eyes roaming over his features, his face so close to his that he felt his breath tickling his skin made him difficult to breath.

 It had been overwhelmingly private. And somehow, deleitable.

 Sero must have been thinking something similar because his face was getting redder as the minutes passed.

 “I think your coffee is getting cold.” he croaked and  Kaminari was suddenly aware of the few people who were also at the café and the messy notes and draws that he had left on the table, that were the main reason he had came today.

 Mumbling a quick thanks and a goodbye, Denki stuffed all of his things on his backpack, his mind reproducing the moment again and again, and thoughts about what would have happened if he had close the distance between them there.

 Yep, it was definitely time to go. He would tell him about his project next time he saw him.

 Or text him. That sounded a lot better.

*

“I think I’m falling hard” said Denki that night, after staring at the ceiling for two long hours. In the bed at the opposite side of the room, Bakugou muffled against the pillot.

 “For who? The plain dude from the café?”

“Okay first of all, he’s not plain. Have you seen those arms? Or that wide back? He has the most tender eyes too…-”

“I can see where your priorities are.”

“And secondly,” continued Kaminari “he makes the best coffee in town just so you know, so he's not just any dude from the café. He’s THE dude from the Café.”

Bakugou rolled his eyes and Kaminari sighed. That wasn’t even the point of all of this.

“I'm just saying, he's so nice and funny. And so considerate and he listens and…”

And he’s special.

Because he can give an amazing advice while referencing a shonen manga.

Because his laugh is so sincere and loud and joyful.

Because he makes this furrowed expression while he tries to decipher Mineta’s chicken scrawl and because he never really minds all the harsh complains some clients say unless it is something unfair or mean to his coworkers.

Because his jokes always make me laugh and because he gets all my vine references.

Because this is the first time I’ve feeling this strong about someone.

“I just don't feel like pretending we are only friends anymore.”

The sound of the sheats and the creaking of a bed made Kaminari turned his head, his golden eyes facing his friend’s red ones, both of their expressions neutrally serious as they looked at each other.

“I don’t fucking know. Have you tried asking Mina?

“I can’t, he’s her friend and she will embarrass me trying to organise a date or something”

Bakugou seemed to bite his tongue to hold back a biter reply. He closed his eyes before taking a short breath and said, his voice even and calm. “I thought you wanted to date him?” 

“I do!”

 “I understand no shit.”

 Kaminari blushed, playing to intertwined his fingers just as he always did everytime he was feeling shy or he talked about something too personal.  “But I want to ask him myself, you know. And also, I'm pretty scared. I haven't dated anyone since high school and you had seen how good things went back then.”

 Bakugou hummed in agreement and Kaminari waited for him to say something else, the knowledge that will solve all his problems, a new point of view he had myself that the genius Bakugou had sure catched.

 And then Katsuki said: “You are pretty fucked up.”

 Kaminari almost got up to kick him and demand a true answer. Only the love for his friend and his self-preservation stopped him.

 “Don’t you have anything else to say? I already know that.”

 Silence. Or Bakugo had fallen asleep or was actively ignoring him. And since it was pretty late and his friend hated to be woken up for littleness, it was probably the second one.

 But then Bakugo’s voice came very low, almost like a whisper, and Kaminari needed all his attention, to not miss a word.

 “If you really like that asshole as you say you do,” he started, his voice steady and calm despite the harshness of his words. “then why not risk it and just ask him out? I mean, wouldn't that be better than just staying around watching him without really having any right to do more? Only because you were too scared to risk it? If you have the opportunity to make a move, because you know it is mutual, then you should stop being a pussy and just do it.”

 They both remained still a few minutes, the words hanging above their heads in the silence of the room.

 He was right.

 And yes, Bakugo most of the time was but there was something now, not only in his voice but in his attitude, that made him look more mature, softer. Like if he talked from experience. Something had changed and Kaminari couldn’t tell what, how or when it had happened, but he sure liked it.

 “Thanks man” he said and Bakugou hummed again, followed by a long comfortable silence after, the one someone shares with a roommate before going to sleep.

 And then Kaminari interrupted it with “Hey, do you know that I have freckles”

 “I would say they are more like small moles.”

 “Yeah, he said that too!”

 Bakugo groaned against his pillow. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

 “I know right”

 “When the fuck did this become a fucking sleepover talk?”

 “The moment you gave me advice. You have exposed yourself, Katsuki. Now give me all those juicy gossips. I heard from Kirishima that there's this cute boy in your Ethics classe-”

 Throwing a pilow at him, his friend screamed and cursed, the mature and empathic Bakugo disappearing in a matter of seconds leaving the classic angry dandelion they all loved and appreciated, jumping out of the bed and ready to fight Denki to death.

 Kaminari’s giggles turned into peals of laughter once he saw his friend’s blushed face, and Bakugou started to curse even more colorful and louder.

They both ignored the protesting knocks on their door for the noise, as they played catch around the room as if they were kids, the atmosphere turning playful again.

 *

Unsurprisingly, Mina arranged a date even without Kaminari asking.

“I can’t keep watching you two dancing around each other any longer.” She had said, when Kaminari had sent her a fifteen seconds long audio of him screaming “WHYYYYYYYYY”

 “It is this sunday, 5.pm., in the east entry of the Amusement Park. And you better go or I will tell Jirou to kick your ass.”

 To be honest, she didn’t need to. Kaminari was definitely going.

 Sure, he was nervous and embarrassed as heck, but the idea of spending a whole afternoon with Sero, even if it was a fake date, made him shiver with excitement.do de

 An hour before the meeting, Kaminari looked at his outfit’s reflection in the mirror for the third time already. He had bought a new pair of ankle boots only for that and even managed to convince Mina to let him one of her furry coats, after many hours of begging and promises of taking care of it over his life.

 “Should I do something to my hair?” He asked Kirishima, who was laying on couch, watching lazily Kaminari’s efforts as he ate the last bag of potato chips in the apartment. Bakugou would probably kick his ass for that later but he didn’t seem to care much by his relaxed expression as he chew.

 “Nah, leave it like that. Makes you look kinda wild” Perfect, then.

 “Should I try cherry red or raspberry fuchsia lipstick?”

 “Go fuchsia, man”

 The make up were his sister’s, who had looked at him weird when he explained her why he needed it for. “Is it really necessary? It is only your first date with this guy.”

 Yes, it was. It was part of the deal.

 12:35: hey quick question, are we really doing that date this sunday

 12:37: Yeah why not, Mina was so kind in asking me out for you.

 12: 38: She said she was done. That we’ve been delaying it too much.

 12:42: The nerve of that girl

 12:43: Some people have never watch the teletubbies and learnt the important values of life and it shows.

 12:45: I can’t believe I got asked out through my friend who also asked out the other person in my name

 12:47: It is like a fanfic plot or something

 12.48: Where the dudes decide to fake date so their friends can let them in peace

 12:50:...and we were fake dating

 12:50: omg we were fake dating

 12: 55: what the heck does someone even does in a fake date

 12: 56: idk, act like they care? Or pretend that they do not care as much as they do, depending on the fanfic.

 12: 57: let's turn it into the next level then

 12:57: I’m listening

 12:58: Let’s care too much.

 It had been an hilarious idea, and they both had agreed on it,  but as Kaminari walked to their point of reunion he wondered if he hadn’t overdone it. Maybe the lennon sunglasses were just too much. 

 Act and look like if they were a pairing out of a cliche novel shouldn't be difficult but still, there was this tiny voice in his head that told him that maybe he had went too far, that he would scare Hanta away as all his other dates back then in high school.

 But Kaminari wasn’t backing away now. He knew Sero and they had made a deal. He would have to wait to see him to see if he was up to the challenge or if he did got scared.

 And he was not disappointed.

 Just as they had agreed, Sero had been waiting in front of the ice cream bus track that always parked in front of the Amusement Park, wearing a pair of ripped sky-blue jeans, a turtleneck without sleeves and a fedora to top it all. He was also wearing hipster glasses, the thick black frame positioned elegantly in the arch of his nose, as if they had been made for him. The blonde took a mental note about asking him about his outfit later. Because damn.

 The guy was good, Kaminari had to admit, but not enough to beat his raspberry fuchsia lipstick.

 “Sorry for the wait. Ready to go?”

 Sero turned, following the sound of his voice and Kaminari waited expectantly for a reaction, something in his face that told him that he liked the blonde's outfit.

 For a moment it looked like he was about to burst into laughs but Hanta composed himself quickly before smiling charmingly and extending right arm, offering it to the blonde to hold as they walked. Cheesy.

 “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

 *

The best thing about autumn was that there was a lot of breeze.

And not the cold winter breeze, that makes your cheeks itch and freezed your fingers, no. But the refreshing autumn breeze that carried leaves around and smelled fresh and clean.

 That afternoon though, the only thing Kaminari could smell was the snacks from the food stalls around them.

 Denki inhaled deeply as he watched intensely the cans he was supposed to knock down, at least two if he wanted a decent price.

The man running the booth coughed impatiently and the blonde put his best Bakugou resting bitch face while actively ignoring him.

He was about to win this game. The man could wait.

Sero smiled apologetically at the booth's owner before elbowing him softly between the ribs. “Do you know that we still have another games to try, don't you?”

 “After I get this one. I've almost done it”

 Kaminari closed his eyes, trying to gain all the concentration before he directed his throw at his targets, with the confidence of a winner.

The luck was on his side.

The two cans that he needed fell to the ground, one of them knocking the other one as it fell, and the blonde smiled to the sound of the bell announcing his victory as the man told him to choose his price.

 “A well earned plushie for you” Denki said to Sero, handling him the small stuffed animal of a fluffy grey chinchilla hanging from a keychain.

 Sero received it with a wide smile, before hanging it from one of his belt loops. “Just for now, so I don’t lost it.” he explained. “This little guy would look perfect in my backpack.”

 Humming happily, Kaminari scratched ‘win a plushie for him’ off his to-do-list, satisfaction filling him as he took Sero’s hand on his.

 Kaminari couldn’t deny it, he was excited. He kept looking around, searching for activities to do together, trying to complete all the things-to-do in the least time possible.

 His eyes sparkled when he saw another objective, Another point of their list that they still hadn’t achieve on sight.

 Holding Sero’s hand to make him stop, Kaminari pointed a photo booth some meters behind him, the shiny lights glowing brightly, as if telling them to come inside.

“We gotta immortalise this moment,” he explained, while dragging him inside. “you don’t know when you will have another opportunity of having a fake date”  

Hanta laughed as he watched Denki’s fingers roam over the buttons and options, choosing some before changing his mind and choosing again.

 “Just choose the one the corniest one.”

 “I'm trying to do that but I want them to match with my outfit.”Kaminari hummed before selecting one. “Okay this one is the one. May you do the honours?” He asked, pointing the button that would confirm it all and started taking the pictures.

 They decided to get three pictures each once it was over.

 “You can choose first.” Sero said, before pointing at the chinchilla hanging of the loop of his jeans. “You just won me this, it would be only fair”

 “You bought me cotton candy before. We are technically even”

 “Look at this little guy, and tell me he definitely isn't worth more than cotton candy.”

 Kaminari didn’t need to look at the small puff the chinchilla was, with its tiny ears and black eyes, and its long and fluffy tail to know that it was the cutest thing he had ever seen.

 “You made a damn good point.” He said before giving Sero the ones remaining and saving the other three in the pocket of his furry coat.

 “Now let’s get in the line for the rollercoaster again, the one who screams first buys the other one a hot dog.”

 “Deal.”

*

 “You know if this wasn't a fake date then we should probably  have gone and eaten something for dinner before the food stalls close up.” Sero said, once it started to get dark. Instead, Kaminari had looked at the red sky, orange and yellow mixing as the sun descended on the sea, and nodded his disagreement.

 They had time and there was something more important to do now.

 “This is a fake date” the blonde reminded him, pointing at the attraction in front of them with decision. “so, as the fake-dating-rules say, we shall get advantage of the sunset and go and watch it in the ferris wheel.”

 Sero had looked at the ferris wheel, its colorful lights  and the small line for it, before looking back to blonde, whose eyes were shining at the idea of getting up there, the excuse clear as water.

 “Everything just to follow the fake dating rules.”

 Kaminari smiled like a kid who had just received a candy.

 *

 To be fair, the fanfics had a point in using the ferris wheel for the climax of a date.

 Sero had to admit the view from the top was pretty breathtaking. All the attraction’s lights and the people gathered around them under the orange sky. He could have appreciate it more though, if Kaminari hadn't been poking him in the leg every time he saw an All Might through the car's window as they ascended more and more.

 “Have you notice how many kids are obsessed with All Might since the new season came out?” He had said earlier, when they had come across a group of children wearing the superhero costume. “It sure does bring back memories.”

 Sero’s thoughts got interrupted by another poke from Denki, his eyes not moving from the window as he searched for the distinct blonde hairstyle amongst the crowd.

 “Oh, there's another one.” Poke.

 Hanta guy looked at the boy's features. The sunlight illuminating his face, turning his eyelashes and hair pure gold. It was entrancing,

 He looked at the curve of his cheekbones, the small moles spread around the smooth skin and those raspberry colored lips that seemed to never stop smiling.

 Sero wondered when it had been the last time he had been that immersed in someone to notice such small details, and to like every one of them.

 Never, his brain responded, you’ve never fallen this hard.

 If he kissed Kaminari right now, just as when they had joked before getting in, would the boy react well? Would he freeze in surprise, his body stiffening as Sero inclined to hug him? Would he kiss him back? His pretty eyelids closing as his tongue dance with his own?

 He could. do it right now and find out. Less than thirty centimeters. He knew he wanted to, he had wanted it for a long time, but the idea of Kaminari rejecting him fueled his hesitation.

 Kaminari poked him again, pointing at the window with a wide smile.

 “Look there's a mini Eraserhead too!”

 Hanta sighed and saw the blonde's eyes sparkling like stars, just as every time he got excited by something.

 No, Sero wouldn’t do any move today and that wasn’t something bad

 After all, Denki always was a beautiful sight.

 *

 After that one attraction they decided they couldn't delay their hunger any longer. 

 Their stomachs complained loudly, as a reminder that they hadn't received any food since lunch and Kaminari told him he knew a shortcut to the nearest McDonalds.

 They got lost because who would have thought the same streets would look so different at night?

Apparently not Kaminari.

 *

 The cashier barely blinked when she saw them: two young boys dressed as vintage models, looking exhausted and ready to faint from starvation at any moment.

 Kaminari went to search for a table as Sero ordered, releasing himself of the boots once he spotted a free table near the corner.

 Checking his phone as he reclined his tired back against the cushions of the sofa, Kaminari unlocked his phone. It had stayed forgotten in his pocket the whole day. He had many messages from Mina(demanding him details about how the day went), a pair of Jirou and even one of his sister, who was asking him when he was free so they could have quality siblings time together.

 He didn’t have any intention of answering Mina’s (at least not right now), but he answered Jiro’s and his sister’s before putting it back to his pocket, where he felt the smooth texture of the paper against his fingers.

 Kaminari looked at the pictures they had taken on the photo cabin earlier that day, both of them smiling and doing silly poses and expressions. Each of them funny and completely unique.The last one was his favourite though. A picture of they laughing while looking at each other's eyes, totally lost in their own private joke.

 Sero appeared a pair of minutes later, carrying a tray with their orders.

 “So, a Macnificent, a Big Mac, two big portions of fries and one milkshake to share.”he said, holding two straws up so Kaminati could see them.

 The blonde smiled cheekily, an eyebrow playfully raising as he looked at the straws.

 “Damn it, boy, you really want to get in my pants, don’t you”

 Hanta laughed, his eyes shining with amusement behind his glasses.

 “Oh right I've been wanting to ask you, where did you get those glasses?

 “They are actually mine” Sero explained as he took a bite of his burger. “though I mostly use them at home.”

 “You wear contacts all the time?”

 Sero shrugged. “I used to play volleyball in high school, so I had to get use to them.” He quirked his nose as if remembering something painful. “Volleyball and glasses aren't a good match.”

 Kaminari cleaned his hands in the napkin before direct them to Sero’s glasses. He pulled them off and then on again, humming thoughtfully as he watched the other guy's face.

 “It is weird, no, not weird, but seeing you with glasses… I don't know it feels different.”

 “You know I'm nailing the Jeff Goldblum look”

 “Blasphemy.” Kaminari said before nodding appreciatively.  “But seriously, it isn't bad. think I actually like it.”

 “I can't believe you when you are wearing Barney's furr.”

 “Tell that right to Mina's face.”

 The guy arched an eyebrow before pointing at Kaminari’s mouth.

 “Is the lipstick also hers?”

 “My sister's. It was this one or cherry red. I look amazing in both either way.”

 “Woah you sure took your time to choose your outfit, huh”

 Denki rolled his eyes.

 “And you are telling me you didn’t? or is that turtleneck  yours?” He snatched playfully the hat, Sero's smirk turning wider as Kaminari put it over his own head “And the rest?”

 Sero snickered and sipped through his straw before nodding. “We may look extra but that isn't something bad” He looked so happy and relaxed there that Denki’s heart couldn’t help but flutter in his chest.

 Christ, this guy was too much for him.

 “We do, indeed.”

 *

 After that, they walked on silence to the bus stop, hearing the sounds of the street once the night was on its full.

 Kaminari had given up on the boots, not willing to put them on again after freeing his feet, so he was walking on his socks now.

 “At least until the bus arrives”, he explained to Sero’s exceptical look, “No way I’m walking bare feet on that cold metal.”

 That had been once they got out of the restaurant. They were in silence now, the knowledge that the date was close to its end hanging heavy in the air.

 “I had fun today” said Sero and Kaminari smiled back at him. He had smiled and laughed so much that day that only by doing that  his cheeks hurt. How cool was that?  A lot. A hella lot

 “Yeah me too, I gotta thank Mina later for this”

 He could already see Mina’s knowing-all smile, and her cheeky attitude once he told him how it all went. The worst part is that he really wanted to share it with her. She could be kinda nosy sometimes but she was always there when you need her. Kinda like a heroine.

 “What did she say to you to convince you?” Kaminari asked, not even trying to hide his curiosity at that point. The whole day had been a ride (both figurative and literally.) and he was too tired to pretend right now.

 “Isn’t being Mina enough?” Sero said and Kaminari nodded in an unspoken “Touché”  as the silence sunk between them again.

 At least until Sero asked suddenly. “Why do you think she had to convince me?”

 The world seemed to stop then.

 Kaminari gaped at him, his mind suddenly blank and his cheeks burning. His mouth moved automatically, the words leaving his tongue in an instant.

 “Let’s go on a date again.” Both of them blinked at each other and Denki explained quickly: “Not today, of course! I meant another day, you know, without all of this fake dating thing.” Biting his lip nervously he said: “As ourselves.”

 He could hear his heartbeats as he waited for an answer, playing with his fingers as he saw Sero’s mouth move in response.

 “Bold of you to think I haven't been myself the whole day.”

 Kaminari arched an eyebrow, then looked at Seros exposed arms and then back at his face. The guy snickered. He had been obviously kidding, the idiot. How dare he, didn’t he know how nervous he-

 “Alright.” Sero said, shutting any complain up inside Kaminari’s head. “Yeah, I’d like that.”

 Hanta’s hand reached for his own, playing gently with his fingers before intertwining them and his smile was blinding and beautiful and Kaminari wondered why it took him so much to ask him out, thanking Mina a million times in his head.

 “This time for real.” Sero said and Kaminari nodded. He couldn’t wait.

 *

 “Dude,” said Kirishima “this universe is so good.”

 Kaminari spinned even faster on his chair, the world turning a blur around him. He was feeling particularly anxious that afternoon, which wasn’t contributing to his creative mood. An that was the main reason he had stayed in his room that day, instead of going to the café as always. To finish the rough draft of his project.

 That had been the plan but...

  “They are not gonna end up together, aren't they?” Kirishima asked and Kaminari winced internally. No, he didn’t plan to. They were only friends, their romantic partners weren’t going to appear until a few more events later.

 “Please, tell me Elysia isn’t going to die.” She was already an orphan, no way he wasn’t giving her a happy ending.

 “Aren’t you asking too many questions?” Bakugo frowned in confusion, pointing with his chin at the rest of the papers gathered around the carpet. “Isn't it all draw and written there?”

 “Yes, but there’s parts that aren’t complete” Kirishima said as he handled the notes to Katsuki.“It is so good”

 “It is still a work in progress,”Kaminari explained, as he stand up to open the window. So many spins had made him feel nauseous and he needed some fresh air to calm down a bit. There was also another reason, but he tried to ignore it “Just some ideas written around. I don’t even have a main character yet.”

 “How is that possible? Dude, you have no idea how much I love it, I’d write a 34k fanfic about this, I’m dying to get to know more about this world.”

 The fact that it was Kirishima the one saying that just made Kaminari’s anxiety grow stronger on his chest.  He hadn’t been planning on showing it to his friends yet. Specially not Kirishima. They had just bursted in the middle of it, holding a bag with soda and snacks and declaring it a movie night.

 And he was happy to see them, he always was, but he felt like he needed some time for himself for now. To create and think. And definitely not dealing with the pressure of his work being examined by his talented and creative friend.

 “You don't have to compete with his ideas or do the same thing you know.” Mina said and Kaminari felt ashamed instantly, despite probably not being his fault at all. She was just too good at reading people.

 The girl was looking at him from her position in the bed, far enough so the other two couldn’t hear them. “He doesn't really realises how intimidated people can get just by hearing his opinions, despite them being always positive. He’s that dense about his talent.”

 Mina looked at the guys, to Bakugo’s thoughtful expression as he read the profiles of the characters and Kirishima’s excited chatter, showing the spiky blonde some of the landscapes Kaminari had draw.

 “But the same goes for you.” continued Mina and Kaminari looked back at those black eyes, which looked at him with sincerity. “Believe me when I say we all admire you as or even much more than you admire us. You create such pretty things, Denki. And you bring them all to live with only a pencil or a brush and it is amazing. Like, really amazing.”

 “We also know you had been having a creator’s block since some weeks ago.” Kaminari blinked at that, honestly surprised. He had tried to act like it hadn’t been bothering him but it seemed nothing went over his friends’ heads. Specially when you have someone as observant as Bakugou as your roommate. “Just don’t be scared in telling us your artistic problems, okay? We may not totally understand them but we want to be there for you. For everything.”

 “I will, I promise.”

 The pink haired girl smiled and layed totally down on his bed, pointing at the two other boys, who were still talking about the project. “You should try to add Sero to the squad you know”

 “Oh my god, Mina.”

 She shrugged. “If you won’t do it, I will.”

 And the worst thing was that Denki actually knew she would.

*

Sero looked at the board without looking, his fingers tapping softly against the desk, in an imaginary rhythm only he could hear. In the front of the classroom the teacher was explaining something that sure would come in the exam but he had given up on trying to pay attention long ago. (He would have to ask his friends to send him their notes later, the audio he was recording wouldn’t be enough.)

There was only ten minutes left for the class to be over and still it felt like forever. Sero sighed as he unlocked his phone, not even bothering in going unnoticed.

 1:20: Hey, do you like sushi?

 1:23: is that where you are gonna take me today? ;)

 1:23: Yeah, I like it. Let's go for Bubble tea at some point too

 1:24: And pair it up with donuts :sparkle: :sparkle: :sparkle:

 1:25: you know me ;*

 “Who’s that?” Sero startled in the middle of his response and Satou hummed, peeking over his shoulder while trying to read what was on the screen.“Your girlfriend?”

In the seat on his left, Ojiro snickered.

“Don’t you know?” he said, reclining in his chair in the seat on his left as if he was telling them a secret. “He has a date today”

 His friends let out a choir of whistles that turned into laughs when they saw Sero’s irritated expression.

 “So that’s why you had been distracted the whole class, uh?” Hanta rolled his eyes despite the assumption being absolutely correct. But they didn’t need to know that.

 The bell rang and the teacher dismissed them all with a nod and Sero used the opportunity to fled off the classroom, not willing to give any more details to his friends that they will sure save for blackmail him later.

 The day was sunny, which was weird, being winter so close, but Sero enjoyed the warm sunlight as he walked to the meeting  point, his heart beating strongly in his chest with anticipation.

 Kaminari wasn’t there yet, which wasn’t a surprise. Sero had noticed that the blonde always seemed to be running to get on time to his meetings. He tended to get distracted very easily and once he realised how much time has passed, he was already late.

 Sero spotted Kaminari as he turned a corner, watching him waiting for the traffic light to turn red before crossing the road.

 No ankle boots, lennon glasses nor raspberry lipstick. Just the classic Denki, with his hair tied up in a ponytail and wearing a jean jacket and a simple t-shirt, looking as excited and nervous as he felt.

 A date as ourselves.

 It wasn’t that unplanned tho. They would go for sushi and watch a movie. Hanta had already bought the tickets, two seats in the middle row (not too close, not too far) for the 10PM play.

 In the meantime they could do whatever they wanted.

 “Let’s go to the arcade,” Kaminari said, once they got out of the restaurant. They spent two hours there before getting bored and that’s when they started suggesting places to go, dismissing the ones that would take too much time for another occasion.

 No to the zoo, yes to the karaoke.

 Who would have known that Denki knew a respectable list of 70’s songs?

No to the ice skating parlor, yes to abandoned house near the park.

 It was all laughs and fun until they found a creepy doll. They ran their asses outta there.  

 “I feel like eating ice cream” said Kaminari, once they got near the beach, the colourful light of the Amusement Park shining in the distance. Sero was following some steps behind him, feeling the breeze against his skin and revolving his hair. He felt tempted to take his shoes off and submerge his feet on the sea, hearing the sound of the water splashing with every step he make.

 And then he looked up to find Denki doing exactly that. He was already calves in, his jeans rolled up so they didn’t get wet as he jumped around.

 “What are you waiting for?” He said and Sero shook his head to him, not even trying to hold back his smile. Because, of course, Denki had had the same impulse. Sero would never get tired of discovering the puzzle Kaminari Denki was.

 Leaving his converse next to Denki’s, Hanta ran to the sea, the cold water caressing his skin as he joined the blonde.

 *

Hours later, they were still on the beach, throwing rocks at the sea and competing to see who throw it the farthest. The conversation had died a while ago, both of them enjoying each other’s company under the starry sky.

Kaminari wasn’t paying much attention to the competition though, because right there, sitting that close to Sero on the sand, he could see every feature of his face, from the tip of his ear to the curve of his chin.

 Bakugou’s comment echoed inside his head. “Plain”.

 “Oh, shit our movie is starting in half an hour” Hanta said, when an alarm on his phone ran off. He didn’t rush Denki as he put his shoes on though, waiting patiently as the blonde shook the sand out of his jeans. “Do you think we have time to get some bubble tea on our way there?”

 Yeah, Denki still couldn’t see how an smile like that could have any of ordinary.

 “There’s always time for bubble tea.” He answered and the taller guy chuckled, holding his hand as he lead the way to the mall.

 *

Sero’s stupid jokes and Denki’s obnoxious laughs almost got them kicked out of the theater, almost an hour later. They didn’t care though, they were too busy eating the donuts they had hidden in their clothes, sugar powder falling falling on their jeans and covering their cheeks as if they were kids again. Indeed, a perfect date.

 *

Following the map on his phone, Sero took a moment to compare the address before entering into an small neighbourhood. White and beige houses were displayed in order with mailboxes with the family names written elegantly on them and Sero stopped in front of the only house that was breaking the silence, and that coincidentally matched the address that Mina had sent him.

 The sound of the drums was loud and probably the reason no one answered the doorbell, so Sero found himself following the tunes through the already open doors of the garage and hoping it didn't count as trespassing. And by the sight of the animal print backpack dropped in one of the wooden chairs of the garden, Sero knew he had found the right house.

 Mina had failed to mention that there would have been more people there too. (And it had been on purpose, Sero could tell, after spotting Denki in a corner of the garage, casually playing the guitar as he heard his friends yelling beside him.)

 “You gotta get the tempo right! Have in mind that they all will follow you, idiot.” screamed one of them, an ash blonde guy with a frightening scowl and angry red eyes.

 “I know!” The guy in the drums responded, a redhead with strong arms and a sprightly smile, that didn’t even flinched when the blonde slapped the back of his head, as if he was used to it.

 “Then why do you keep accelerating, you dumbass!” growling, the blonde turned to Denki, noticing Sero’s presence by the corner of his eye.

The sudden silence made the other two to look up to his direction, the spiky redhead barely raising an eyebrow as Denki’s eyes widen in stupefaction.

 “What are you doing here?” Denki asked when he approached him. He was smiling though, and Sero felt his body relax under his golden gaze.

 “Mina forgot his speaker and told me to get it for her since I was still at uni.” Sero hold the bright pink device up so Denki could see it. “What was all of that?”

 Denki smiled sheepishly, his gaze turning at his friends.

 “do you see the spiky redhead there? That’s Kirishima. He usually plays the bass but suddenly he decided he wanted to try the drums.” Hanta looked at the boys who were back at their bickering. “Bakugo’s been trying to teach him but he’s too impatient. Mina got tired of them so she went to the kitchen for snacks.” he explained. “Give me a second I will go for her”

 Sero felt the gazes turn at him once more after Denki disappeared behind a door. They didn’t say a thing though, they just stayed there evaluating him in terrifying silence while Hanta did his best in trying to ignore them. Denki used to look at him like, before they exchanged numbers and stories.Sometimes he still looked at him like that.

 “Sero!” exclaimed a feminine voice and Sero barely had time to blink before a body collided with his and hold him in a tight hug. Mina’s pink curls tickled his neck and Sero chuckled as she released him as fast as she had came. She had already taken the speaker out of his hands before he could say a word. (It wasn’t really a surprise to find out she was already friends with Denki. They both had the same chaotic energy, Sero was more surprised he didn’t take it for granted.)

 What happened after that was a blur in his memory. Sero had mentioned something about going back and suddenly Mina was shoving Denki by the wrist at him, saying something about their houses being in the same direction before pushing them both out of the garage and closing the door behind them with an slam.

 “Do you tend to do this a lot?” he asked, once he recovered. Denki’s guitar wouldn’t fit on his bicycle so Hanta was leading it as they walked, his eyes fixated on the pavement in front of his feet.

 “We are approaching finals so we wanted to release some stress making noise before starting again.”said the blonde “Sometimes when we are all free we give small concerts.”

 Hanta turned his head to him so fast he nearly strained his neck, his mouth falling open in shock. “You are kidding me”

 Denki tried to hold back his smile by biting his lower lip instead. He seemed kinda proud as he talked. “I’m seriously not. Kirishima’s uncle has an small bar and he lets us play there from time to time.” He turned in a corner and Hanta followed him. They had already passed the avenue that leaded to his own home but Hanta didn't care, he was enjoying the company. “We are trying to find someone that knows how to play the music keyboard so if you are interested, just tell me.” He winked, jokingly and Hanta seriously considered telling him that he actually knew the basics only to see his cheeks turning a cute shade of red.

 Denki stopped in front of an apartment building and suddenly the atmosphere was heavy again, crowded in unsaid questions.

 “We are here” the blonde said, and Hanta wanted to believe his hesitation was because he didn’t want to say goodbye either. Not yet. “is your house near?”

 “We may have passed it already.” Hanta confessed and since he was already doing that, he decided to risk it, trying to ignore his heart throbbing like crazy inside his chest. “I just wanted to expend some more time with you.”

 Denki gaped like a fish for a few seconds, his eyes not meeting his as he opened the door, the invitation clear in his tone as he said, “What about a movie then?” and before Sero could say something he was already inside, and the taller guy could swear he saw a hint of redness in his ears.

 The blonde’s apartment was on the second floor and it was bigger than Hanta expected, enough for two people to live there without feeling like trapped in a cage. It’s interior was red brick, with a white ceiling that matched the rug that covered the center of the wooden floor.

There were two beds, at the opposite wall of the entrance door, and two personal wardrobes next to each one. A white door was between them, probably the entrance of the bathroom, and windows in the sidewalls.

The small living room was formed by a green sofa, a beanbag and a desk in each sidewall, with two shelves above each of them.  

 The blonde had told him that he shared the place with Bakugou, so Hanta was expecting his side to be kinda rough, something that was a resemblance of his attitude.

Intead, Bakugo's side was impeccable, and it was Kaminari's side the one that looked chaotic, painting utensils, clothes, manga and papers were scattered everywhere, as if it was a tornado’s doing.

 But the most noticeable thing was the canvas that was displayed on the sofa, a painting of a woman with her eyes closed and flowers in her hair, her golden curls adorning a face covered in freckles.

 “She's my mom” Kaminari said and Hanta noticed that while he was there daydreaming, Denki had already picked everything up. “It is my best painting so far.”

 And he might not said it, but Hanta had the feeling that it was also the most important for him.

  “You look a lot like her.” Hanta said and Kaminari smiled, trying to ignore the ache he felt on his chest, a pain he felt every time he saw the painting.

It was a bittersweet feeling, of having someone you lost in front of you, so detailed and perfect and still, finding it lacking: no trace of the sound of her laugh, the shine of her eyes, the tinkle of her voice as she called him and his sister for dinner.

It was empty, and still, it managed to fool his eyes.

 “I get that a lot.” Denki responded. “It seems I took a lot after her and my sister after my dad. I don’t have the curls or freckles tho, as you can see.”

 In all honesty, Kaminari forgot the painting was there, he had gotten used to think it was inside his closet, hidden of the world and his own eyes. But his sister had com to visit the day before and he knew he couldn’t not tell her about it, between her visit, that lasted until midnight, and the early band practice from today, Denki had forgotten everything about the painting,that was there in the middle of his sofa for everyone to see.

 Sero hummed thoughtfully before asking,“And why the flowers?”

 The question shouldn’t have hurt so much.

 “They are lillies. She loved nature. Our whole house looked like a flower shop, we had so many plants there.” It still did. His father never stopped taking care of her plants, no matter how tired he was after a full day of work. His father, who had to raise two children alone and that drinked tea instead of coffee since she passed away. “She didn’t seem to have a favourite though, so I had to do my research on them to decide which one I should choose.”

 He didn’t dare to ask his father if she had a favourite plant. He was the man that lost his heart but kept living nevertheless.

The love story of their parents always amazed him. A college girl who met his future husband in a beach concert. A guy that played in a rock band  and that fell for the girl whose arms were covered in flower tattoos, petals and leaves decorating her skin.

 “Yellow lillies are beautiful and elegant.” explained Kaminari, brushing softly with his fingertips the painted  blossoms.“They also symbolize thankfulness and desire of enjoyment. There’s people who associates them with negative meanings, bad luck, falsity, as well as happiness or joy.” Kaminari wondered what kind of face he was making. Was it reflecting the homesickness he was feeling?  “I decided to stay with desire of enjoyment. Because my mom was like that, free and soft and extraordinary.”    

 Their mom told his sister that falling in love with their father was easy, that she felt so quickly that it was alarming. And that still, she felt no fear, because her love was bigger than it. A love like that. So big, so deep. So easy.

 It sounded like a fairy tale and still, he witnessed it, how they were around each other. As if they were about to burst into a musical at any moment,

 “Disgustingly in love”, would say his sister, always smiling.

 “She sounds like an amazing person.” Hanta said, and Denki blinked away the tears he didn’t know that were gathering in the corner of his eyes.

 “She was.” he agreed and then he added, “I still can’t decide which one of you makes a better coffee though.”

 *

 Sero looked at the calendar and counted again the days he had left until his deadline. Almost a month. Then he counted the days he would need to study for his other exams, the homework he still had to do and the courses that would probably leave him more. That leave him with two weeks more or less. Two weeks to finish the prototype of a videogame for the most important course of the semester.

 He should have started it already. Actually, he had but he didn't plan on using that first attempt as his final work. So he was behind the schedule, but it was alright, because he would rather sacrifice some nights of sleep now than later, he would the energy once exams arrive.

 It wasn’t a pleasant thought, tough.

 Maybe if he finished on time he could ask Denki out again, maybe this time to the zoo, or any of the other places they had agree to visit another time, in their latest date.

Sero knew it would be impossible. By the time he’d finish, exam's week would had already started, and Denki would be busy with his own exams as well. Hanta hoped he wasn't as stuck as he was with his project, because the blonde had been sending him his ideas for already three weeks and Sero thought that it would be a shame if he didn’t see the end of that story.

What was the advice he had told to Denki, around two months ago, about being a creator?

 “Have confidence and determination and then the talent would bloom” Hanta whispered to his ceiling. Or something amongst those lines.

Where did that come from? Definitely a moment of inspiration, Sero couldn’t imagine himself saying something like that again, not even in his best pep-talk.

 But he did, once, and Denki had believed him and the prove of it wa sthe pictures he had now of his phone, sketches and messy notes that created new worlds by themselves.

 Finish on time. Do it right.

He didn’t need to choose between them if he made other decision instead.

 Sighing, Hanta picked up and dialed the numbers of the Coffee Whim.

*

“It is finals week in our uni” Shouji said when Kaminari had asked him about Sero's absence. “He has taken the last two weeks off, though I wouldn't be surprised if he didnt come some days after. You know how tiring it can be”.

 Kaminari had nodded and thanked for the coffee before going back to his place on the sofa.

 He hasn't seeing Sero since that movie night, almost three weeks ago. They hadn’t text much either, between his classes and homeworks, the blonde’s energy focused on study to pass his exams, that were just about to start that week. And now, knowing that Sero was the busy one made it impossible.

 So the week passed, with the café empty and no sign of Sero, Kaminari coming everyday once the afternoon started and his exams were over, looking at the register and sitting on the table beside the window, drawing and writing, his story taking form in front of his eyes as the ink filled the white pages of the notebook. An story about a ordinary character, that by being surrounded by the unconvencional, was unique.

 *

 A knock on the door brought Sero back to the reality.

The door opened swiftly to show his mother, holding a tray with sandwiches and a big milkshake and the boy’s stomach growled loudly with hunger. “I brought some snacks.” she said and just then Sero realised he had been working non stop for seven hours. His fingers felt cramped and his back and neck felt as tense as a violin cord. The incomplete software was shining in his laptop screen, reminding him the time left he had to finish it and some parts of the story he still had to add. But those sandwiches looked good and so did the milkshake, and his mother had made them for him after arriving home after work so Sero decided to stop for a minute. He needed a break.

 His mom stayed in the room, sitting besides him in the bed as she watched him eat, her black eyes shining in relief and the slight hint of an smile in the curve of her lips. She was still wearing her work attire, a long tube skirt with a white blouse and a red handkerchief around her neck. She hadn’t even took his make up off and Sero felt a wave of love filling his chest despite the numb state his brain was at the moment. His mom sure was the best.

 “How was work?” he asked, once his stomach calmed enough to let his brain formulate words. There was only one sandwich left but Sero concentrated on the milkshake, enjoying the sweet flavour against his tongue.

 His mom shrugged. “Kinda boring.”

 “No interesting stories then?”

 “Oh no, there's always drama in the airport. Nothing really remarkable this time tho.” her long red nails brushed his hair from the front to the back, as she did when he was a kid. He must really look horrible if she was doing that. “What about you? Are you close to finish it?”

 Hanta didn’t look at her eyes.“Something like that.”

 “One of those days, uh” Sometimes she could read him too easily.

 Sero fidgeted in his chair, suddenly interested in the shelf in front of his bed, his figures way more interesting than his mother evaluating gaze.

 “Remember when your brother taught you how to ride a bike?” she said after a moment and Sero couldn’t help but raise a brow..

Teach was an overstatement.

“You mean when he just left me in the top of an slope and waited for me to do it by myself.”

 “Yes, I taught him that way too”

 Sero hold back a laugh. So that's why his brother never got grounded.

 “Also he told me you already knew the basics, it was time for him to let you go.”

 “Debatable.”

 She ignored him.

 “I've seen many parents helping their kids when they learn. And I did that too, at the beginning.”

 “Marco only did it like four or five times” Sero replied.

 “More than enough. I only did it tree times for him.”

 “Jesus, mom.”

 “Don’t be like that, it was a very small slope.” She said  “what i mean is that sometimes kids just need to prove the hardest thing, just to acquire something more important that succeed: experience. Oh, don't look at me like that, niño. Or are you gonna tell me that you didn’t enjoy the rush of adrenaline once your brain assimilated the fear and proceed to act? Overcoming it and try to do something. Anything! Because If you were going to fall, you would fall by your own terms.” Her soft hand cupped his cheek and Sero reclined in it.

 “Sometimes i feel like you have changed a little with your experiences, but that’s okay, because you are still turning out and you learn from your mistakes. Just remember that I will always be here to remind you that sometimes it is better to take a risk. In everything.”

 She kissed his forehead and Sero sighed, inevitably.

 “Don’t doubt and don’t be scared, because when you are already falling you have nothing to lose. And knee scraps almost never leave scars.”

 *

 He was late.

The teacher had had a problem with her car and the class representative had told them to wait for another hour until she arrived. They just couldn't leave their notebooks, she wanted to ask them about them, confirm that they were the right authors and to exploit every piece of information they had not noted.

So they needed to wait.

The hours seem to last eternities and Kaminari had never hated that his last name was one of the lasts in the list.

The traffic was a disaster too. Winter had came and with it the snow and half of the buses in the city were stuck in the traffic. More time passed as he waited for a bus that never seemed to came and Kaminari was late, so he decided to ran.

He ran through the cold streets, his breath creating puffs in the cold air as he ran all the way to the café.

He wished it didn’t close, that maybe Sero was still there, delaying it because someone told him that Denki had gone there everyday and that he planned to do the same that day too.

And Kaminari ran. And he wished.

 *

 Sero had closed the cafe late that day.

It had been a busy day. It was the last day of finals and the eve of a long vacation term and the college students felt like treating themselves with caffeine and sugar after having survived hell.

 Mineta was still mia (he would call him later, the dude always overdone it for finals) and Shouji had left early so he could go out with his (boy)friend. (Sero had to insist. He had been the only one working while the rest of them studied. He deserved the break.) He himself had finished his exams the day before, and he had never felt prouder of presenting a work on time. (He slept for fifteen hours after that, practically fainting on top of his bed with a victory smile.)

 Right then though, he took orders, prepared, served and even greeted some friends and familiar faces, compensating for the days of absence with even more energy while doing his tasks.

 “A vanilla cappuccino and a macchiato” a voice said and Sero looked up from the register to found himself in front of Denki’s roommate and friend, Bakugou, who was looking as exhausted and dead inside as everyone else.

 Hanta wondered if he should greet him or try to make an small conversation, after all he had been in the guy’s house, but Bakugou didn’t make any sign of recognising him. Instead, the blonde looked silently at the small box next to the register before picking up one of the chocolate chips cookies bags displayed in it, not willing to look at Sero at the eyes as he asked for the price.

 “I thought Denki would have been here” Bakugou said, while receiving his change. Hanta frowned in confusion.

 “I hadn’t seen him in weeks”

 “You must be blind then because he had come everyday in the last week”. Sero’s eyes widened in surprise and the blonde looked at him with curiosity before going back to his table, handling the cookie bag to the freckled guy that was waiting him there.

 Hanta repeated that part of the conversation in his head for the rest of the night, unaware of the passing of the time as he swept the floor and cleaned the tables.

 He didn’t notice the clock marking that it was already half an hour after closing time, or the clumsiness of his movements as tiredness started to affect him.

 And once he heard the footsteps and the doorbell as the doors opened, every sign of exhaustion vanished from his body, his heart stopping for a second at the sight of a messy blond, with his cheeks and hands pinks for the cold and his breath uneven as he gasped, “A coffee, please”

 Compared to outside, the Coffee Whim was cozy and warm and Kaminari’s muscles relaxed at the change of temperature.

Hanta had gone behind the counter, opening and closing cupboards before pouring the ingredients in the machine with ease.

Denki just observed, taking every detail of him in, trying to find small changes compared to the last time they had met. But aside from the bags under his eyes, practically hidden behind the frame of his glasses, he found none and he found it more comforting than he thought.

 An small cup was slid softly to his direction and Kaminari looked down to the smiley face Sero had draw on the foam, the sweet smell of the coffee filling his nostrils before taking it to his lips.  

 “This…” he whispered, after a long sip and Hanta’s smile made Kaminari’s heart made a somersault in his chest.

 “This time it is not a Nevado, it is too cold for that.” Sero explained, “ But I thought you might needed something sweet. This is the warm and original version: An Arequipe Latte.”

 Kaminari sighed happily, his body welcoming the hot drink as his tongue drowned in its sweet taste. A cozy feeling filling him from head to toes the more he drank it.“I'm gonna marry you one of these days.” he said and Sero huffed at his dramatism.

 Once he had finished it all, the blonde asked, “I see your finals are over. How did it go?”

 Hanta shrugged. “It was rough, not gonna lie, but it turned out fine at the end. Very good actually, I’m satisfied with the results.” He poked kindly Denki’s hand, positioned on top of the wooden table. “And yours?”

 “I won't know the results till monday but I'm positive.” Denki thought of his project, his explanation of it and the teacher's face as she checked the notebook. He closed his eyes at the memory of her asking him if she could keep it for a few days and the encouraging smile she gave to him before closing the door behind him. “I really want to nail this.”

 “I’m glad to hear that. I’m sure you are gonna kick some asses there.”

 Denki mirrored his smile and then there was silence between them again, a comfortable one, as they both lost in the comfort that being with each other was.

 At least until Kaminari’s phone rang, the pop song cutting the atmosphere like a knife.

 It wasn’t nothing important, only an old alarm he had forgotten to deactivate, but it reminded Denki how late it was, his muscles suddenly aching with the realization.

 “I think it is time to go home” he said, rather hesitantly, as he got up of the chair. He didn’t make any more move though, watching Hanta as he put his coat on and turning the last lights off before getting next to him to walk to the bus stop together.

 The snow had already started to accumulate in the streets by the time they spotted the bus stop from afar, and despite being a cold night, Kaminari found himself extending his arm to catch the snowflakes, even if they gave him goosebumps when they made contact with his skin. Carefully, Hanta took his hand on his own to put them both in his coat’s pocket, protecting them of the cold temperature, the warm of his palm transfering to his own.

 “You know, I tend to do stupid things when I’m tired.” said Sero, as they approached more and more their destination. Their steps had turned slower though, prolonging their time together as long as possible neither of them wanting to say goodbye.

 Hanta hadn’t let go his hand yet, and Denki felt his hand squeeze his as Sero turned his body to face him, so close, he could see through his glasses clearly.

 “Really? I do them all the time” said Kaminari, suddenly out of breath and his eyes roamed over Hanta’s features, searching for any sign that revealed a doubt, a rejection. There was none. Quite the contrary even, as Denki watched his lips quirk in a shy smile, the blush extending to his ears as Hanta looked back at him, at his lips. “It must be really annoying.”

 “It is,” Hanta said and then there was a hand caressing softly Denki’s cheek, raising his chin with cold fingers and touching lovingly the corner of his mouth, and the blonde felt a dejavu as he felt his breath against his skin, his heart stopping as Hanta whispered, “but I think I won’t call it a mistake this time.”

 The long awaited kiss was soft and tender, almost shy, and both guys closed his eyes as they hugged each other closer, their lips parting almost immediately with craving. It tasted sweet and slightly bitter and Denki stood on his tiptoes to get to taste more of it.

 Hanta and coffee, coffee and Hanta.

 He almost whined when they had to separate to breath, joining their foreheads together as Hanta chuckled against his mouth.

 “Suddenly I feel like drinking coffee again.” He said and Denki pulled him down by the collar of his coat because for the first time on his life, he did not. He found that he liked Hanta’s lips even more.

[shy-violet-soul]

The Edge of Okay

Characters: reader, Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester Rating: Teens+ Summary:  A weary warrior fights an unseen battle, trying to hold herself together and hide her pain from the brothers.  

***TRIGGER WARNINGS***: anxiety/panic attack, self-harm, graphic descriptions of injuries

A/N:  For all of us who struggle with an invisible mental illness.  For all of us who don’t want to hurt ourselves, but just want it to stop.  For all of us who have trouble seeing our own amazing courage.  For all of us who claw our way back from the scary edge.  This one is for us.

If you need help, please reach out!  You are precious.  Here’s a link of contacts.

A very big thank you to @thesassywallflower for being my beta once again.  I so admire your writing talent, my friend, so your feedback, suggestions, and praise always mean so much to me.  THANK YOU!

(image credit: Olga Zavgorodnya via www.fineartamerica.com)

“I’m okay.”

Of all the lies I’ve ever told, that one is the biggest.

My body is a relief map.  Rough and raised on the space where my left thumb meets my hand - machete callous.  Painted blue on my right rib cage - bruise from an upright player piano a vengeful spirit slammed into me.  Thready and crooked - new part in my hair beside my ear from a too-close-call with a wraith.  A fretwork of pink raised ridges, whitish blobs, and silvered indents - an atlas to past mileage.  

You’re okay, I tell myself, not even feeling the frenetic bounce of my knee anymore.  Fingers cold, I trace the newest mark on my skin, up and down, up and down.  Sam’s gotten pretty good at stitches - they don’t look as much like Frankenstein work anymore.  The still-tight scars lay pink and healing where they webbed up from the inner knob of my right collarbone to my ear.  My fingertips can still feel the tiny spots where the stitches laced me back together.  Stupid, lucky lacerations.  They’re easy.  I mean, getting filleted like a mackerel by a demon was a bitch.  But hey - stitches work.  Fluids and food restore.  A whiskey or three cures a lot.

Up and down, up and down, I trace the lines that tell me I’m okay.  That my skin is knitting back together, and my blood is staying inside where it belongs.  Physically, I’m well on the mend.  It’s just my brain that’s a mess.

It started when I was in high school.  I thought everyone got chest pains studying for calculus exams, or nausea over a required oral presentation on European folklore.  Eventually, after being found wedged between two sections of lockers hyperventilating about an essay I’d forgotten, my parents insisted on getting me help.  Enter Dr. Bass and an answer: General Anxiety Disorder.  I’d hated the idea of medication, but I’d hated the constant panic attacks more.  It took a while.  A long while.  But I finally figured out how to co-exist with the anxiety.  It took even longer to stop feeling ashamed of my invisible illness.  I succeeded, mostly.  The rest of the time, I trained my face to lie.  The official I’m okay robot, complete with appropriate facial expressions.

Then, you know - parents dying and monsters and real angels and crap.  Dean and Sam patched me up, showed me the ropes, and I never looked back.  Who has time for panic attacks when you’re busy torching wendigos?

You’re okay, as fatigue burns the back of my eyes, puffed and scratchy.  I haven’t slept more than a couple of hours at a time in days.  Sam remarked on the beautiful bags under my eyes the other morning.  

“Sleep is for the weak,” I’d winked at Dean, slapping a smile on.  I can’t let them know.

You’re okay, the refrain as I count the skipped heart beats and feel the chest pain tighten.  Black eyes and a cackling smile flash in my mind, and I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to shake the image away.  I can beat this.  

You’re okay, while I swallow sticky around the need to hyperventilate at the memory of my blood running warm down my neck, then cold and clammy.  I can’t do this.

Up and down, up and down, my fingers rub the crooked lines a little too hard.  A raw pinch, a reminder from the tender skin that it’s still healing.  The sensation washes up into my head, and for a moment, I don’t feel the awful suck.  For a moment, my knee stills and the fatigue ebbs.  For a moment, I get a breather from the silent suffocation.  Temptation brings a tremble to my hands, wet to my eyes, and I yank my hand away, tucking both fists under my legs.  Exhaustion sags my edges hard, and I can’t hold up my head anymore.  My kneecaps dig into my cheekbones, my lungs shudder as I remind myself that’s not the answer.  You’re okay.  Frantically, I try to grasp at past coping techniques, and flail away the lies.  

I’m not weak.  I’m not a failure. I’m not broken.

But the ‘nots’ feel heavy in my head, and everything’s too hot and too cold.  I want to run five miles and lay down and never move again.  My clothes are too loose and too tight. I want pizza but I feel like throwing up.  It’s all too loud in here, and too quiet, and I would give a lot - almost anything - to make it all stop.

A sob croaks its way past the dryness, wheezing around a weak gag into the blaring silence of the library.  My fingers reach up, up to the table’s edge and press forward till I feel them.  The feel of the plastic containers both relieves and terrifies me.  I’m clinging to a new and scary edge I’ve never seen.

“Hey.”  The deep rasp squeezes my throat shut as I sense Dean’s warmth beside me.  I can sense him crouch down, one hand resting on my arm.  “Hey, are you okay?”

The weight within me presses, hard, and I feel something crack.  Oxygen is hard, all of a sudden, and the panic spikes, black dots in my vision.  One hand fumbles towards him, skittering one of the plastics a bit.  But I’m too tired to hold him, and oh, God, I need to hold on to someone.  As if from under deep water, I drag my head up to look at him, but my face is too tired to lie.  I’m too tired to lie.

“No.”  I try to swallow, cotton all the way down till my stomach hurts.  “No, I’m not okay.”

***************************************************************************************

She thinks she’s hiding it well.  Maybe from someone else, but not me.  You don’t have to be a Sherlock to see she’s not sleeping.  Her face is washed out, and we could go shopping with those bags under her eyes.  Always alert, she’s gone from awake and aware to outright jumpy.  I’ve teased her for her diet in the past, which she affectionately dubbed ‘the Winchester hybrid’ - a steady mix of my junk and Sam’s rabbit food.  You couldn’t keep a mouse alive on what she’s tried to fool us with.  

I get it.  She damn near died.  I took a great deal of pleasure in ganking that demon.  Blood was freakin’ everywhere.  Thanked whatever deity for Sammy’s dinner plate hands holding her neck together till we could get her sewn up.  Damn.  I’ve seen blood before.  I’ve seen my little brother slashed to shreds, held his broken bones in my hands.  You never get over that.  Doesn’t matter how many times.  It keeps me up at night sometimes.  That cold, quivery awfulness that hits your gut and won’t let go.  Makes you feel like you’re licking a battery or some shit. Sam thinks I got my awesome headphones to drown him out.  Sometimes, but mostly I just need to get out of my head.  Try to block out that crap with some classic electric guitar.  And beer.  You just...figure out how to live around it.

Seeing her blood all over - I don’t know why, but it was so much worse.  Felt like I swallowed the damn battery, I was so juiced up.  My gut felt cold for days.  But she got better.  Stitches work.  Fluids and food restore.  And a whiskey or six helped me catch a little shut eye without the memory of holding her neck together while Sammy sewed.

Cuts?  Those are easy, though.  Gimme a dislocated shoulder or a gash, I can fix that five ways from Sunday.  It’s the dying I see happening in her eyes that kills me.  I can’t fix it.  Not with dental floss and boosted painkillers or ice packs.  What the hell can a chewed up hunter do to help her?  I just wish she’d quit tryin’ to hide it.  Jody throws around the word ‘PTSD’ like it’s something new, but it’s not.  This fear?  The panic?  All hunters live with it.  If they don’t, they’re either liars or sadists.  She’s gotta know she’s not alone.  Time for me to sack up and tell her.

She looks so damn small.  Pajama pants with Bambi and Thumper printed all over and a Captain America hoodie are swallowing her.  The blanket from her bed is flopped around her, and she’s stuffed herself so small into one of the leather chairs, it makes my back hurt to look at her.  Hair’s a mess, lips all chapped, and salt stains on her face.  But her eyes...goddamn, my chest hurts just looking at her pain.

“No.  No, I’m not okay,” she croaks, her fingers knocking against something on the table before they’re shaking on my arm.  Everything in me wants to hold her tight, but I don’t.  Not yet.  I ease down on my knees beside her.  Squeeze her arm a bit while I prop my other hand on the chair beside her shoulder.  Close so she knows I’m here but not caging her in.  Hoping she’ll come to me when she’s ready.

It works.  She breathes like she’s been underwater, then her hands are tight fists in my sleeves. My throat squeezes shut when she looks up at me, like she’s begging me to understand.  Oh, honey...I raise my hand and brush some hair from her eyes.  Keep my movements slow and light, my gaze soft and open on hers.  

“I’m here,” I whisper, watching her eyes fall shut and tears dribble from the corners.  She leans toward me, resting her forehead against mine.  One hand on her head, the other still on her arm, I hold her.  We just breathe like that for a minute.  When she leans back and slides her eyes towards the table, I follow her gaze and my heart stops.

A line of prescription bottles are rowed up near the edge of the table, one tipped over where she must have hit earlier.  A couple with one of her aliases on them.  The other a high-powered painkiller that I know she stopped taking a week ago.  I have to swallow twice as I rub my thumb against her arm.  Do not sound judging.  Keep your cool.

Fresh tears are rolling down her face when I look back at her face.  I reach to hold her hands, a little shocked at how cold she is.

“What did you want those to do for you?” Kept my voice soft, so afraid I’d spook her.  

“I - I -” A sob cuts her off and she reaches for me.  My whole body loosens with relief as I pull her down on my lap, into my arms, and away from this edge it feels like she’s dangling from.  Her face dives for my shoulder and she just cries. 

****************************************************************************************

“I don’t want to die, I don’t!” My tongue feels stuck and heavy as I try to rush the words out.  My nerves feel like they’re on fire.  I can feel each heart beat in my temples as my blood pounds panic through my veins like a firehose.  I’m so terrified of seeing disgust in Dean’s face, but I’m more terrified of this edge I’ve ended up at.  I can’t stop the words from pouring out.  The nightmares of black eyes and horrid breath in my face.  Blunt nails scratching my skin when he squeezed my throat.  The scathing, sliding bite of his knife down my neck, and the certainty I was going to die.  It all comes gushing free like something cut loose inside of me.

As the black spots swirl around me sickeningly - comfort.  Slow, like a signal light from way off, I feel it first - hard arms holding me.  Big shoulders shielding me.  Warmth bleeding into me.  Soothing whispers start to piece-meal into my ears.  

“It’s alright.  I’m here.  I’ve got you, don’t worry.  I’ve got you.”

The words, the truth there actually hurts me for a second, and I squeeze his shirt tighter in my hands below his collarbones.  I scrunch myself smaller under his chin, and my lungs stutter as they try to suck in more air.

Minutes pass.  Maybe days, I don’t know.  Panic attacks will do that to you.  The lies are quiet for a moment, letting that bubble of truth float its way to my brain.  

“I don’t want to hurt myself.”  He needs to know that.  I need Dean to know that.

“What do you want?” His words rumble, soft but soothing, against my cheek.  I couldn’t stop the dribble of tears that leaked fresh from my eyes, and the weight of that water felt too heavy, so I closed my lids beneath it.

“I...I just...I’m tired, Dean.  I just want to sleep.”

“Do you want to go to my room and lay down?”

The thought of being in a small room makes my skin crawl.  “No,” the whisper forces its way out of my throat.  “I like it here.”

Dean didn’t say anything.  With the storm of panic passed, I feel wrung out, cold, and weak.  I barely track Dean moving an arm for a reach or two.  Then, he’s easing me back onto my butt.  It steadies me to focus on his face as he’s grabbing around me.  His eyelashes, the freckles on his cheekbones pull me in until I feel my blanket against my shoulders.  Numbly, I watch Dean’s hands as he cocoons the blanket around me.  His fingers feel warm and rough on my face as he cups my cheeks.  The sensations ground me, and I’m able to breathe a little deeper for a second.  When I open my eyes, Dean’s looking down at me.  He offers me a smile that’s crinkled eyes and soft reassurance.

“There.  Now you’re a burrito of tired.”

************************************************************************************

The chuckle she gives is sorry and sad, but I’ll take it.  My hands look too big and rough against her face, but her eyes close and her shoulders try to let go when I stroke one cheekbone with my thumb.  Screw it.  I ease her against my chest and stand up, holding her tight.  The main lights of the library click off - Sam got my text.  I clock him hovering in the kitchen doorway, giving me a ‘two minutes’ sign.  His puppy dog eyes look worried as I plop us down in one of the leather armchairs.  It takes me a second to get her situated where we’re both comfortable.  As soon as I stop moving, I notice how she’s shaking.  But her skin isn’t as cold as it was, and I feel her ribs expand with the first deep breath since I found her.  Feels like I can breathe a little deeper now, too.  

Pretty sure Sam conjured up a kitchen spell or something, because there’s no way it’s been two minutes when he comes trotting back in.  I roll my eyes when I see that instead of the one piece of toast I asked for, he’s got a pile as deep as his stupid hair.  But, I smell her private stash of cinnamon-sugar in with the toasted goodness - good job, little brother.  The plate slides onto the table next to us, and a bottle of water plops down with it.  I feel her eyelashes tickle against my neck when she opens her eyes.

“Hi, Sam.” God, she sounds tired.  

“Hey.” Sam squats down on his heels, reaching to tug the blanket up a little higher around her shoulders, then strokes her head carefully.  

You good? he asks with a lift of his eyebrows.  Yeah, I tell him with a bob of my chin.  The breath she pulls in is slow, now, and it’s got more O2 behind it when it sighs out warm against me.  I rub my right hand against her back, up and down, up and down. My left hand slides up into her hair and I start to drag my fingertips against her scalp.  Her shaking slows down to almost nothing as she sags against me. Her fatigue is contagious, and I feel my eyes growing heavy as I let my gaze drift.  Those damn pill bottles are ready to remind me, though.  That edge that almost pulled her under.

This battle may be on hold, but the war ain’t over.

*****************************************************************************************

For the first time in days, I feel warm.  My elbows and knees still feel trembly, but I feel loose instead of wound tighter than a spring.  Dean’s slow breathing moves underneath me, letting me rest against the swell and fall of his chest.  Leather and laundry soap reach me, a comforting cloud above the tickle of cinnamon-sugar.  The chair beside us creaks, and I hear Sam’s boots against the floor as he gets comfortable.  Dean’s hand rubbing my back, up and down, up and down.  My stress-singed senses settle amid all this, grounded and grateful.

The memory of that scary edge, though…

“I didn’t want to hurt myself.”  I wanted them to know.

“What did you want?” the calm question.  

“Sleep.  I just...I’ve been fighting and fighting and I’m so tired.  I just didn’t feel like I could fight anymore.”  I’d be ashamed if I wasn’t so exhausted.  These two warriors had literally been to hell and back, and I was whining about being tired.  Dean’s arms tighten around me, and the sandpaper-y rub of his chin feels good.

“But you are fighting.  Look at you.  You didn’t do anything.  That’s fighting.”

I want to believe him.  But my gut is too quivery for hope yet.  

“It doesn’t feel like fighting.  Feels like failure.”  Bone-deep tired pulls heavy on every muscle, and I close my eyes as I snuggle in closer to the anchor Dean offers.

“Sure as hell ain’t failure, sweetheart.  Looks a lot like a tough as nails hunter kickin’ it in the ass and swingin’ for all she’s worth.”  The words sigh a deep breath from me.  I don’t know what to say anymore.  “I know you’re tired.  But you just gotta keep fighting.”

That same stupid flicker of anxiety that’s my own evil pilot light wavers in my gut, and I swallow around the desire to cry all over again.

“And what if I can’t?  Keep fighting?”  Dean sits quiet for a minute.  I knew it.  I am hopeless…

Then, he presses a kiss to my forehead, stirring warm against my hairline.  “Then, you come get us.  We’ll fight for you.  We’ll make sure you’re okay.”

My mind lies still - no nightmares to tear through me at the moment.  The arms around me like a buoy, letting me catch my breath as I back away.  I know that scary edge is still there.  But now...I feel like I see it from a different view, one where I can see the corners.  The other edge where I can learn how to coexist with this invisible monster again without my face telling lies.

It feels like the edge of okay.

[raganandhersurveys]

5/21/21~5000 question survey 201-300 {CXVII}

This has been in the drafts for far too long lol

201. Put these creatures in order from what you would least like to be reincarnated as (1), to what you would most like to be reincarnated as (10) assuming reincarnation ended up existing AND you were given a choice: caterpillar, house dog, wild dog, vulture, male human, female human, oak tree, rock, manta ray, dolphin 

~female human, dolphin, male human, house dog, manta ray, wild dog, caterpillar, oak tree, vulture, rock

 202. What do you feel unworthy of? 

~sometimes i feel like i don’t deserve the love that people give me. but i definitely don’t dwell on that thought 

 203. Would you rather be remembered for having done something for humanity or being a really nice person? 

~doing something for humanity; that effects more people 

 204. Which do you value more: science or intuition? 

~honestly depends on what it is haha. i lead with my heart more than my brain sometimes 

 205. Your best friend and your significant other are in the hospital at the same time with the same ailment. Who do you visit first? 

~...... i hate questions where i have to choose one person over another, i can’t choose 

206. Does the universe revolve around human beings?

~lol nope we exist in it just like everything else. we took it upon ourselves to feel as though we are superior 

207. If you are no longer a virgin, do you wish you still were?

~no, that thought has never even crossed my mind

208. Who is your favorite poet of those who are alive right now?

~i rlly don’t know that many poets 

209. What is your favorite song from the 90's? 

~my heart will go on~ celine dion; stereotypical ik but like i love that song

 210. If you were in alphabet soup what letter would you be? 

~the r ofc:)

 211. Do you believe in fairies, ghosts, aliens, angels, dwarves, elves, etc.?

~i definitely believe in angels. as far as aliens and ghosts are concerned, i for the mots part believe in them but i am a little skeptical and someone can be a dwarfed person so i believe in that too, but the elves and fairies are a no go. 

212. What makes you want to be someone’s friend? 

~if we have similar interests, if they’re funny, kind, if they’re open minded and deep, and like to eat food a lot because i sure do

 213. Do you troll around the Internet harassing people anonymously for fun? 

~bahaha i have a life lol 

 214. Have you ever seen the movie A Man Who Fell to Earth?

~nope

 215. What is your favorite line from a movie? 

~”ughhh! as if”

216. What's your favorite video game? 

~i don’t rlly play video games lol

 217. Have you ever taken something that wasn't yours? 

~yeahhhhhh

 218. What is one phrase people say that irritates you?

~”we love that”

 219. You allow strangers to read your diary, but would you let your parents read it?

~lol never

220. Hot steamy bubble bath or quick in and out shower?

~depends on my mood. if i have something to do i’d obviously choose the shower lol

221. Are you allergic to anything? 

~nope

222. What is your favorite Terminator movie?

~i don’t rlly like any of them

 223. What is your favorite fast food?

~chick-fil-a!!!!

224. What would someone have to do to get you to never speak to him or her again?

~cheat on me or hurt someone i love

225. Would (or have) you ever whip someone or be whipped by someone in bed? 

~i have never and will never whip or be whipped in bed hahaha

 226. Have you ever said 'I hate everyone' and really meant it literally? 

~lol no

 227. Why do some people want to get more money than they could ever spend?

~greedyyyyyyy oooh. money is also an addiction i feel like; for some people they will never have enough 

 228. Have you ever won a carnival fish?

~:((((( no

229. Did it live more than a week? 

~^

 230. What's the best sounding accent a person can have? 

~i love a spanish accent or italian/bostson accents too 

231. What's the most boring thing you've ever read? 

~some book for school probably 

232. Do you prefer buttons or touch screens? 

~ig touch screens

233. Do you think there is a lot of similarity between the Harry Potter books and the Lord of the Rings series? 

~there rlly is but they’re worded differently because they were written in such different times. i enjoyed both but i love lotr. 

234. Would you consider yourself to be naive?

~in some regards, yes 

235. Which of your friends is most likely to go to jail?

~andrew 

236. What is the smallest amount of money that could be in a public toilet that would make you reach in and grab it?

~honestly if it was a $20 dollar bill

 237. Would you ever wear real fur?

~no

238. Arachnophobia or Eight Legged Freaks?

~huh?

239. What are your feelings about police officers? 

~not all of them are bad. Yes there are corrupt ones but can’t any career have corrupt employers? I would feel safer having them than not so I do not support the whole ACAB movement

 240. What is your favorite line from a song? 

~i have no idea lmao like my mind went totally blank

 241. Is fifty dollars a lot of money?

~to me yeah haha

242. Do you like the band Front 242 (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Front_242)? 

~i’ve never heard of them

243. Would you rather have fame, money, or self-satisfaction? 

~self-satisfaction

244. What's your middle name? 

~alexandria

 245. What is the absolute limit, the craziest thing you would do for a million dollars?

~probs pee in a public place 

246. Are you good, evil or neutral?

~i’d say neutral lmao

 247. Should ebonics (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ebonics) be considered a language?~sure lol 

248. What color is your bedroom? 

~sage green

What color would you like it to be? 

~i want my next room to have just white walls 

249. When are you planning to move to a new home? 

~well i move into my college suite in august 

250. If you added up the cost of everything in the room with you, approximately what would it come out to be?

~well i’m not in my room right now so i have no idea

251. Do you blow your nose in public?

~i try to avoid it but you gotta do what you gotta do

252. Do you want to follow in your parent's footsteps?

~in some ways yes, but in other ways absolutely not

 253. What is the coolest web site you know of? 

~any online shopping place haha

254. Which cartoon would you most like to see turned into a movie? 

~most of them have already been turned into movies and they aren’t that great

255. Of the following, which word best describes you: enthusiastic, fair minded, generous, helpful 

~i’d say fair minded overall

256. Can you eat with chopsticks?

~no but i wish i could haha

257. Could you tell real money from counterfeit?

~most likely no

258. What do you think about school uniforms?

~i’m so glad i went to a public school and didn’t have to wear one. i love clothes and creating outfits so i’d hate to have to wear the same thing like every day

 259. What ancient civilization would you most like to visit?

~either egypt or greece

 260. What would make a great new Crayola color?

~do they have a sage green color?

261. If an art project is created with the intent of getting rich and famous, does that cast doubt over its significance as a work of art? 

~not necessarily. I feel like it’s hard to do anything artistic like that without a purpose or meaning

 262. If you became president, whom would you invite to sing at your inauguration? 

~ariana grande or sza 

 263. Who is the greatest philosopher of your country? 

~me lol 

264. If all the nations in the world are in debt, where did all the money go? 

~i feel like it went to borrowing and to funding the military

265. Is it as easy to make you happy now as it was when you were a child? 

~i feel like as a child it was easier 

 266. Who knows more...you, or your parents?

~depends on the topic tbh 

 267. What instrument would you like to be famous for playing? 

~electric guitar or piano

 268. Children fill its lungs completely with air. Adults breathe in a more shallow way, not filling their lungs completely. Why the change? 

~that is not a question for me lol

 269. Would you have sex with a stranger for one million dollars? 

~mmmmmm yeah tbh LMAO

270. Are you completely in control of your body? 

~i guess lol

 271. Which is more romantic: an expensive, glittering bouquet OR flowers that were hand picked as they grew beside the parkway? 

~i’d love either. sometimes money is the thought for someone but hand picked is so special to 

 272. Do you know yourself well enough to understand why you feel the way you do?

~in some instances, yes. but then sometimes i’ll feel a random emotion at times. there are times where i’ll just feel really sad and I don’t know why lol 

273. Which do you do more often: let movies, songs and books put your feelings into words for you or put your feelings into words by yourself? 

~both but the songs and books do it so beautifully 

274. Do you believe celebrities when they are endorsing a product? 

~usually not lol

 275. What kind of movies do you wish were made more often?

~i’m always down for a good horror movie 

 276. Does fashion matter to you? 

~yesss! that’s the field i want to enter 

277. Should politicians be held to the same legal standards as everyone else? 

~of course, if not more so 

 278. What do you get in trouble for the most? 

~my mom always says i do things last minute 

279. Should parents spank their kids? 

~you do what you wanna do as a parent

 280. What is your worst daily habit? 

~eating unhealthy foods lol

 281. If you had your choice which one TV show would you have canceled?

~pretty little liars because it’s literally knock off gossip girl

282. Do you like the taste of sweet or salt?

~definitely salt 

 283. Are you very precise about what words you use to describe your feelings and thoughts? 

~not always lol 

284. What do you feel the most guilty about? 

~sometimes i feel like i let people down because some of my decisions still depend on other people (ex: if my mom says no to something that someone asked me to do)

 285. Do you meditate?

~no

286. Can dreams be visions, or do you feel they are always random images?

~i think they can be visions but i feel that most of the time they are random images

 287. Do you try to write/say what you are feeling in a true and simple way?

~why are so many of these questions about this lmao um it depends if i have a grasp on my emotions in that moment 

288. The thief _______ that everyone steals. What verb would you fill in the blank with? 

~is jealous?

289. What's the most incredible experience you ever had?

~one night a year or so ago me and some friends just hung out but it felt like a movie. we were jamming to music with the windows down and just going crazy; what a time to be alive 

 290. Are you ever afraid to write/say/think how you feel?

~for sure however i have learned that that is very unhealthy so i usually tend to speak my mind 

 291. Do you write/say/think it anyway or become intimidated and try to avoid it?

~^

292. What is one thing you can't do?

~ride a bike 

293. Do you like movies starring Charleton Heston (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charleton_Heston)? 

~i’ve never seen any of his movies 

 294. Are you gentle? 

~i try to be 

 295. When do you feel the most raw and vulnerable? 

~when i’m alone and not talking to anyone 

296. Are you trying to find yourself?

~aren’t we all?

297. Where are you looking?

~in my passions and just getting to understand myself in general 

298. Are you sometimes afraid of being honest because you are afraid of hurting people's feelings?

~yep

299. What would make you a stronger person? 

~not lettings things that people say get to me and not caring so much of what others think of me 

 300. What book would you like to read sometime soon?

~there isn’t one in particular but i would like to start reading stephen king 

[concussed-to-pieces]

ESC; Part Two

Fandom: WWE

Pairing: Jon Moxley/Roman Reigns

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: Thirst Party Saturday ho! Tagging @toxiicpop, @oraclegazes and of course, @hardcorewwetrash! Enjoy!

Part One

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains rape/attempted rape/vivid allusions to attempted forced sexual activity via pornography, as well as human muzzling of a non-BDSM variety. This gets heavy, so please read safe everyone!]

He had a real name once. He knew he must have at some point. But through the years he’d forgotten it. He was simply Lion now.

…

Elias fidgeted beside the counter, tapping his fingers. With his guitar slung over his shoulder via the strap and his sunglasses firmly in place, he surreptitiously scanned the coffee shop yet again. Probably his fifth time since he walked in.

His gaze kept getting drawn to an older man, maybe early forties. The man sat all alone by the window, his own coffee appearing forgotten beside his laptop. The guy constantly looked up and around, like he was doing something he shouldn’t. It immediately set off warning bells in Elias’ head.

“Pardon me, ma’am.” He said softly when the barista slid his coffee to him. “That guy over there has the look of a man trying to be sneaky. He in here often?”

“Wow, good eye.” The barista snorted. “Yeah, he’s a regular. We're pretty sure he comes in just to watch porn with our wifi. But since he’s not like, actively jerking off or bugging anyone there’s not much we can do about it. He buys a coffee, you know how it is.”

“Much obliged, ma’am.” Elias gave her a quick flash of his smile, taking a sip of his drink as he meandered away from the counter. There was a bulletin board on the wall behind that suspicious man and Elias knew that was always his best bet for finding more traveling shows, circuses and exhibitions. A lot of the mobile carnivals didn’t have websites or calendars to track, so his fieldwork was still important.

The man glanced up at him as he sauntered by, making a scoffing sound when he took in the mass of scarves around Samson’s neck. Elias paid him no mind, perusing the flyers on the wall silently. A few older ones for Heyman’s Delights, when he was still advertising the ‘turned feral’. Elias shuddered. Two for McMahon’s Dog And Pony Show, ‘fun for the whole family!’. Since Vince had sold the remainder of his ferals off to Heyman, the group had focused their efforts elsewhere. One of the bars in town was having a talent night.

Samson turned around to head for the door and froze as he caught sight of the suspicious man’s laptop screen. ‘RESTRAINED FERAL LION PLOWS TINY SLUT!’ screamed the title of the video. Elias forced himself to ignore the video, forced himself to instead commit the site’s name to memory and as he walked by on his way out he slammed the man’s laptop shut. The man looked up to protest and Elias narrowed his eyes, giving the man his nastiest glare and curling his lip in a snarl. Don’t even think about it.

The air from outside was cooler than he anticipated, shocking a little of the blind fury out of his system. Elias pulled his flip phone free of his pocket and started typing.

-Nev I’ve got something.

He sat down on a bench and drank some more of his coffee while he waited for their fearless leader to reply. His fingers tapped the fretboard of his guitar, twanging a string here and there. “Well, gold digger took my money, dipped my heart an’ hands in honey.” Samson began singing quietly, “Snake lady stole my savin’s, don’t go thinkin’ she was havin’ my babies.” He carried on, singing the tune of a disillusioned young man facing the electric chair in July. Nobody ever wanted to hear happy songs, anyhow. It was always Johnny Cash for these people. “You’re young, an’ qualified, got a date with that chair out in late July.”

A man walking with his dog smiled at Elias and Samson smiled back, tipping his head. He had to remember sometimes that most of the ‘regular’ folks weren’t scumbags. There were just an exemplary few in the herd that outdid the rest. His brow furrowed as he thought back on that guy in the coffee shop, rhythm faltering. He checked his phone quickly.

-Send location for pickup Samson.

-Not that simple this time Nev. Will explain when present. Get Mox. See you soon.

Samson got to his feet, dusting himself off and continuing down the sidewalk.

…

Moxley’s eyebrows ended up in his hairline when the name of the website left Elias’ mouth. “Listen man, I know everyone’s got their kinks but-” His protest was cut short by Samson’s blistering glare. “Oh, this ain’t a social visit.”

“No Mox, it’s not.” Elias grumbled while Neville typed.

“They literally just call him Lion.” Neville tugged his glasses down his nose. “What the hell kind of…this is some fucked-up shite.” He pointed to the screen, highlighting a paragraph after a moment. “'Sedated Submissive, Lion knows only to please!’ I’m going t' toss in my mouth.” Neville did look green.

Mox’s own stomach went queasy at the wording. “Sedated?” He asked weakly.

“He’s not a willing participant. That’s fuckin’ revoltin’.” Adrian said bluntly. “They get him out of his mind, muzzle him and restrain him. Can you even fucking imagine how terrifying that is?”

There were a few publicity photos for Lion’s profile, all without a stitch of clothing on the tattooed young man. Just another feral, what does he need to be treated like a human for? Moxley snapped his teeth angrily. Lion had that glazed stare over his stifler of something trapped for too long. “What’s the plan, Nev? I know ya’ got somethin’ brewin’.”

“Bits an’ pieces.” Adrian pushed his glasses back up. “I’ll circle the wagons when I’ve got more information.”

“Let me sponsor this one, yeah?” Mox asked quietly once Elias had departed back to his own trailer. “He’s gonna’ need some delicacy and I’ve dealt with the druggin’ before.” He still had nightmares sometimes, recalling the cloying pull of the substance Vince plied him with to keep his rages under control.

“If you think you’re up for it, Mox.” Neville shrugged. “This whole op is going to need some delicacy. Grab your spiral-bound.” Adrian had a tendency to over-prepare when it came to their data collection, but Mox knew it was either have as much as they could or go in defenseless. So he obediently collected his notebook and flipped it open to an empty page, beginning his usual work of writing down everything that came out of Neville’s mouth.

Regardless of whether it made sense or not. Adrian had a habit of lapsing into his accent a little harder than normal as he rambled (he called it ‘going Geordie’, whatever that meant), so occasionally Mox had to have him repeat things. But when Neville rattled on he claimed his brain worked twice as fast as his mouth, and Moxley had to admit that his smarts hadn’t failed them yet.

“The producer. A shadowy fuckin' title fer a shadowy prick that apparently makes fucked-up porn.”

Moxley grunted as he wrote that down.

It was well after two in the morning when Adrian pushed himself off the seat by the table and stretched with a loud yawn. “We’ve got him, Mox my lad. He’s as good as ours.” He grinned tiredly. “We’ll talk to Regal in the daylight, get an idea of what we’re dealing with. Maybe he’ll have another miracle cure, eh?”

Mox snorted, getting to his feet. “Yeah, maybe. I dunno’, man. He keeps telling me he’s close to figuring out why he can nuke Elias’ rages but not mine and it’s like, shit old man, prioritize.” Moxley scolded. “He’s gonna’ get behind on the antibiotic doses for the newbies and then we’ll be fucked, stuck with some kid that’s got super lice.”

Adrian chuckled, rubbing his nose against Moxley’s cheek. “Don’t worry about the old monarch. He knows what he’s on about.”

Mox pulled him in the rest of the way for a headbutt, grinning back. “Fucker, you’re in on his shit.”

“Oh, but that’s no secret.” Neville teased. “He's a stubborn old bastard, but he's our stubborn old bastard.”

…

The cement felt nice against his aching head. Cool. Solid. Real, much more real than the way everything shimmered like heat waves in front of his eyes. He groaned, half-wishing that there was something else in his stomach to come back up. Maybe if he got sick on himself again they would leave him be for a little while longer.

His thighs were sore and his wrists hurt, chafe marks still raised and raw on his skin. His throat was so dry from the muzzle that smothered his face in its grip. So it hadn’t been that long that he was unconscious for. He couldn’t decide whether it was good or bad that the dark patches were getting longer but thinner. He kept waking up, waking up with women on top of him, the scent of the cosmetic products they used to conceal his chafing thick like oil in his nose and mouth. Sometimes he wanted to cry, when he came to and couldn’t go back under to hide from the things they did to him.

Sometimes he wanted to rip everyone in the room apart, his chest heaving with fury and hands clenched into fists in his binds while he stared at the ceiling and just waited for it to be over. But those angry days were becoming fewer and fewer. His body wasn’t his own, his brain riddled with fever and drugs persuading him to just lie still, to move his hips and whimper when appropriate.

He was Lion, ‘Sedated Submissive’, those words he didn’t understand that dug into his skin like more needles and choked in his throat like more dry pills. This was who he was. He could grit his teeth, scream and strain while he had his mind, but it wouldn’t do him any good.

The cement felt like it was leeching all the heat out of his skin. He shuddered, getting up off the floor on shaky legs and moving to his cot. His restraints dragged heavily at his arms. Maybe…maybe more sleep would help.

…

Mox crept through the doorway after Neville. “Three seconds,” Neville muttered, staring at his watch. They both waited until the camera reset and then bolted down the hallway. Three seconds didn’t seem like much, but if Neville had done his math right (and of course, Mox had full faith in the notion that he had), it was more than enough to get them around the corner.

“This is a little different from our usual snatch an’ grab, Mox. We are officially cat burglars. So suit up.”

Moxley felt a little silly in his black jeans and turtleneck, but he knew he had to look the part. Plus, according to Neville the camera was old tech, a black and white CCTV kind of thing, so in all black he had a better shot of blending into the gray.

He eased open the first door on his right when they entered a hallway, an empty bedroom meeting his eyes.

“We’ll do a full sweep.” Neville said softly, “The only info we had mentioned a room off a hallway, yeah? You take the right.”

Mox nodded, closing the door and carrying on. Two more bedrooms passed with no incident, though Mox found it weird that they were made to look like they were in totally different houses.

The next door revealed a bedroom that was drastically different from the rest. Red carpet, no windows. Black straps attached to the headboard caught his attention and Mox took a cautious step in, clicking on his small flashlight to get a better look.

The bedspread and sheets were solid black, the fabric coarse and cheap under his touch. A simple video camera was set up on a tripod at the foot of the bed, another one resting on the flimsy bedside table. Mox felt the nausea build in his throat for a minute before he got a grip on himself.

The closet door by the bed was half open and he carefully crept to it, gesturing for Neville to follow him from the hallway. Adrian’s quiet gasp of breath alerted Mox to the fact that he’d noticed what the room was for.

There were stairs in the closet. Wooden stairs that led down, to what appeared to be a basement.

“Bingo.” Neville turned on his own flashlight. “This place seems…huge for one feral.” He pointed out as Mox descended the steps in front of him. “I wonder if their Lion is just a test run? Imagine how useful assholes like us could be in this industry if we were docile.”

“Priorities, old man.” Moxley reminded Adrian. His eyes widened as his flashlight swept over a collection of cells built all in a row like a prison. “Oh. Well then.”

“Sometimes ah’ hate bein’ so fuckin’ smart.” Neville grimaced, his accent thickening. “We need to get that lad out an’ nip this shite in the bud, yeah? I’ll stay by the stairs. Could be our only exit.”

Moxley nodded, creeping forward. All the room had for illumination was one red light, blinking sluggishly at the far end of the cells. His night vision might be good enough to draw from that, but his flashlight made him feel a little safer. Every cell that he passed seemed to be open and empty. He wondered if someone had tipped off the producer, scouring the cells for some motion, some flicker of life.

Then he found the locked cell. Mox’s heart jumped into his mouth but no, no, Neville had picked much harder locks than this one. There was a blanket-covered mass on the cot across the cell and Moxley took a chance. “You awake in there?” He asked quietly, eyes falling on the loop of chain that wound around one of the bars and led beneath the blanket.

The lump under the blanket stirred, raising their head to look at him. Lion’s eyes were a light shade of gray, but they looked eerily white now in the beam of his flashlight.

Mox made a soothing noise in his throat, lowering the flashlight so the other man wouldn’t stare directly at it. Lion responded listlessly with a quiet sound of his own, more of an echo, muffled by the thick piece of leather over his mouth. His gaze held absolutely no interest or curiosity, he just stared because there was something different in front of him. “Nev he’s here.” Mox called, beckoning his partner over. “Get this open, man. He’s all fucked up.”

Neville got to work on the lock, twisting his pick set this way and that with extreme care. Mox wanted to talk to Lion, make sure he was aware that they were there to help, but he knew Neville needed to hear the tumblers so he stayed silent. When the lock clicked open Adrian got to his feet and eased the door to the side. “Lion?” He asked softly. The man under the blanket made a noise of distress, peering out at Neville.

“He’s got one of those stiflers on, Nev. Dunno’ if he’ll bite.” Mox observed. Those pale gray eyes flicked to his face when he spoke. Lion shook his head, metal cuffs around his wrists displayed when he reached up to claw weakly at the muzzle covering his mouth and nose. Moxley took in the raw skin around his wrists, the leather burn marks on his neck and jaw. “Christ.”

“Watch his pupils, he’s fucked up hard on somethin’.” Neville gestured and Lion flinched back after a second, his reaction delayed. “Let’s get him out of his cuffs. Do you understand us, Lion?”

The young man groaned in reply, finally nodding. Mox breathed a sigh of relief. That made things a hell of a lot simpler. Lion held his hands out but he didn’t seem particularly happy or excited. It was just a motion, his eyes fixed on the floor.

“Mox, take off that muzzle while I work.” Neville directed, kneeling beside the cot and flipping through a small ring of cuff keys he had on standby.

Moxley moved forward, starting to wrestle with the stiff buckles securing the stifler. He felt Lion’s face press against his shirt and he heard a quiet inhale of breath whistle through the muzzle. “Hey there, you gettin’ all the good smells?” Mox asked gently. “One more second and I’ll have you out. It’s okay.” The leather under his fingers finally loosened, then pulled free. Moxley eased the muzzle off, letting it hang slack around Lion’s neck. “There, I bet that’s a little better.” He continued, watching worriedly as Lion just carried on staring at the floor. “Lion?”

That head of unruly black hair jerked back up, eyes wide in the dim light. Lion seemed to be having a difficult time focusing, looking like he was working overtime just trying to hold his head up.

“We’re getting you out of here, okay? We won’t leave you down here.” Moxley said slowly, hoping Lion could understand him. The whole cell reeked of cleaning chemical smells, Mox knew he was in for a splitting headache if they didn’t leave soon.

“Got it, here we go.” Neville said triumphantly, unsnapping the cuffs. “Alright lad, we’re gonna’ wrap this blanket around ya’ waist. I can’t believe I didn’t think to bring clothes.” He tied the knot on the blanket over Lion’s hip. “Now, neither Mox or I are strong enough to carry ya’ like a princess, but I figure between the two of us we’ll get some locomotion yet. On your feet.” He urged and Lion obeyed, almost collapsing a second later. Mox managed to compensate for the sway, draping Lion’s heavily-tattooed arm over his shoulder and hesitantly laying his hand on the other man’s ribs.

Lion’s skin was clammy, fever-sweat dampening the area under Mox’s touch. His head dropped onto Mox’s shoulder and he slumped, making himself dead weight. “Easy, easy.” Mox soothed, wondering if Lion knew that he wasn’t being dragged out for another…performance. “One foot in front of the other, okay Nev? Just nice and careful.”

“His body temp is all damn wrong.” Neville grunted as they left the cell and headed for the stairs. “Poor fucker.”

…

They weren’t usually this careful. And they never unlocked his restraints without putting his leather cuffs on first. The headache refused to abate. He was pretty sure that regardless of his empty stomach he was about to puke. They had asked if he understood, of course he understood. More work to be done.

The stairway opened up in front of him and that was when he realized where they were bringing him. He struggled. He usually didn’t, they usually dosed him and let everything settle into dark before pulling him up the stairs. But they hadn’t this time. They didn’t even kill his breath. The tall man with the bright eyes had taken the muzzle off.

He found his voice at the top of the stairs, the dark doorway into the fake bedroom yawning like the jaws of a hungry beast.

…

“No!” Lion suddenly exploded. Mox felt kind of dumb for not anticipating that, he’d gotten increasingly squirmy the closer they got to the top of the stairs.

“Whoa, whoa, easy.” Mox said firmly, maintaining his grip on the weakly-struggling man. “Easy, shh. Not today. Not ever again, got it?” Lion pushed his face into Mox’s neck, whimpering. Mox felt tears start to soak through his turtleneck. “Not ever again.” He repeated, digging his fingers into that thick mane of hair to keep Lion’s face where it was. “Shh, it’s alright. Nev, I’m maintaining his position. Go open the door.”

Adrian fairly bolted across the room, pausing to yank the memory cards out of both camcorders on his way by. “Confiscatin’ evidence. Dunno’ if they’re in standby mode.” He said to Mox’s unasked question. “Alright, you got him then? That last hallway is gonna’ be the hard part.”

“I need you to move your feet. Don’t look at the bed. Just keep your face tucked into my neck.” Mox continued to enunciate all his words as clearly as possible. Lion finally, finally shuffled forward, hiccupping loudly. “That’s right. We’re just going to the door. Gonna’ get you out of here.” Moxley tried to encourage him and it appeared to be working. Lion just didn’t seem to have much left in his proverbial tank, continuing to sag against Mox and allowing him to move him as he saw fit.

When they hit the edge of the rug was when Lion stopped. The rug in the hallway was a beige color, a stark contrast to the ugly red one in the room. Lion hesitated before taking a step out, his whole body tense enough to snap. Mox released his hold on the young man’s hair, letting him look up. Lion squinted in the light, his eyes obviously having a difficult time adjusting. “Who…” He began, his voice surprisingly deep when he wasn’t in a panic.

“We can explain later. You’re not out the woods yet.” Neville whispered. “I dunno’ if anyone heard ya’ little outburst at the top of the stairs.”

Lion winced. “Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. C’mon.” Mox had rapidly eased into his sponsor role, taking Lion’s hand. The young man clung to his arm like he was drowning, half-hiding his face. “It’s alright. We’ll just keep walking. Be outta’ here in no time.”

“Sorry. M’ stomach…” Lion made a retching noise. “Nothing there.”

“The hell is it always like this for?” Neville griped. “Always with the no food, the shite conditions. What the fuck did any of us do to deserve this?”

“Grew teeth an’ didn’t use ‘em fast enough.” Mox answered bleakly, pausing at the corner of the hallway. “Here we are, now comes the hard part. So. At the end of this hall is freedom. Real, legitimate freedom that you can touch an’ taste, bury your fuckin’ nose in. The only issue is if we don’t make it in three seconds, we’re fucked.” He explained carefully to Lion, who instantly went back to tense. “Now, Nev can help on one side, I’ll take the other, and we’ll make a mad dash for it when he gives the signal. You ready to run?”

Lion nodded slowly.

“Take a couple deep breaths, get yourself centered. I know ya’ in a drug fog. I promise we’re real, tangible things.” Mox watched as Lion appeared to focus, his eyes narrowing slightly. “There ya’ go, s’ little bit better. You’re gonna’ be floatin’ again in a minute but all we need is three measly seconds.”

“Ready?” Neville asked, staring down at his watch. Moxley nodded, his grip tight on Lion’s hip. “In three, two, one.”

Lion’s fingers dug into Mox’s shoulder hard enough to bruise as they made a break for it, the young man obviously in full survival mode. Neville shoved the door open and they burst out into the night, hurrying down the side access steps that resembled an old fire escape.

“ETA minute thirty, we have to get to the safe zone so Samson can come grab us.” Neville whispered, all but pulling Lion along behind him.

“Easy Nev, he’s got no fuckin’ shoes on man.” Mox pointed out, a bit annoyed.

“Can go. Doesn’t matter.” Lion grunted, shaking the hair out of his eyes. He slowed abruptly when he caught sight of the moon, though. She was beautiful tonight, round and brilliant white. Mox wanted to laugh at the expression on Lion’s face. “Oh.” Lion said softly, reaching one hand up as if he could touch it. “Look, look it’s-”

“Yeah, the moon.” Mox’s brow furrowed. “How long has it been since you seen her, buddy?”

“I don’t…I’m not sure.” Lion mumbled.

Mox felt his throat tighten up at how confused the other man sounded. Neville made a noise of disbelief beside him. “Seriously? That’s awful.”

“No windows.” Lion pointed out.

“Never thought I would be lucky to be in a cage outside. But the idea of bein’ stuck inside…” Mox trailed off as Lion pushed away from him, almost toppling over again. “Easy, easy. I know the contact makes you uncomfortable. Just let us help ya’ to the van an’ then we ain’t gotta’ touch you again without ya’ permission, okay?” Lion made a low sound in his throat. “Where can I touch you?”

A huge part of being a sponsor was respecting the boundaries the newly-freed instated, regardless of how silly they seemed. It was about putting the power back in their hands after it had been missing for so long, about easing them into a life that they had direct control over. Numerous individuals had passed through their little organization, Regal setting them up with what they needed to balance things hormonally before they struck out on their own.

“Want to walk by myself.” Lion said determinedly.

“Alright. I’ll be beside you then. If ya’ feel woozy, just lean on me.” Mox stuffed his hands into his pockets, wishing he had his jacket. He quickly fell into step next to the other man, studying the hitch of his gait. He looked like he hadn’t stretched his legs in ages, which was entirely possible.

“Much further?” Lion asked, his steps faltering over the uneven ground. Mox shook his head and Lion clenched his fists, straightening his back stubbornly. “Okay.”

“What a fuckin’ trooper.” Moxley praised, “I promise once we get in that van we’ll bundle you right the hell up. You’ll be the coziest motherfucker this side of New York.”

“Am cold.” Lion admitted. “Sore.”

“You’ll get the once-over from Regal. He’s our doc, he helps all of us out.” Mox was used to having to defang the idea of doctors to new charges. He would call William a pharmacist, but that just tended to confuse. “Get that fog outta' you, huh?”

Lion didn’t reply as they came across the van, Elias ready and waiting with the side door open. “Nice to meet you. Climb on in and we’ll be on our way.” Samson was entertainingly formal, shaking Lion’s hand. He did it with all the new acquisitions, doing his part to drive home the point that they should be treated with dignity.

Lion looked back warily at Mox, who smiled at him. “It’s okay. Want me to get in first?” Lion nodded, moving to the side to let Moxley pull himself up into the van. “See? It’s alright.”

Lion had a little difficulty getting his legs up high enough, the blanket snagging around his thighs. He made a frustrated sound, finally resorting to tipping into the van on his stomach and fumbling his way up into a seat. “My head.” He said by way of explanation, wincing. “Dizzy.”

“It’s totally fine. You can sleep now, okay?” Mox slid the door shut and then tucked a blanket around Lion’s shoulders. Lion almost immediately snuggled his chin down into the soft material, his eyes already heavy. “I’ll be right next to you if you need anything.” He assured, settling onto the floor in between the two middle seats. Lion nodded sleepily.

Mox leaned his forehead against the plastic frame of the seat, yawning.

…

“Look at Mox.” Elias whispered, grinning. The third member of their operation was sound asleep, his face mashed up against the seat next to him while he snored. “He’s gonna’ have a corduroy imprint on his cheek.”

“M’ surprised Lion is sleeping.” Neville mumbled, his eyes fixed on his small laptop screen as he watched the footage he’d taken from the memory cards. “This is terrible stuff, Samson, Jesus Christ. The place was huge too, like a correctional facility.”

“Lofty aspirations?”

“Yeah, let’s fucking hope that’s all they are. Pipe dreams and great goddamn expectations.”

The audio cued up in the middle of a conversation and Neville turned it up a little, pressing his headphones to his ear. “-reasonable, come on. You know how this works--”

“Dun’ want t’.” Lion slurred through his stifler, his head pitching forward until his chin rested on his chest. “Legs hurt.”

“That’s too damn bad, isn’t it. Get makeup in here, it’s still a mess from the last bout.” The producer grumbled. “Its thighs, no shit. Fix it. It can’t rub off on her, either, so seal it.”

Lion struggled as best as he could, the faint click of teeth barely registering on the audio. “Bite you, dun’ touch.”

“If you don’t knock it off you’re gonna’ get knocked off.” The producer threatened. “This belligerent crap isn’t going to help you.”

“Hurts!” Lion yelped as the makeup girl liberally smeared his thighs with concealer. Neville had seen that his thighs were all raw and the idea of pouring thick cosmetics onto open wounds made his own skin crawl.

“We’ll just have to tone down the lighting I guess. Its hopeless.” The producer grabbed Lion’s jaw, growling in his face. “You’re fucking pathetic.”

“Need a break.” Lion begged.

“You can have a break when you’ve fucking earned one. All you do is lay here anyhow.” The producer flicked a finger roughly over the head of Lion’s stiff cock, making the dark-haired man cry out behind the muzzle. “We have two more scenes, two more girls. You’re fine.”

“Hurt.” Lion said desperately. “M’ hurt. Can’t.”

“You’re fine, you know how much I hate liars.”

“Please, I-” The producer quickly put an end to Lion’s mumbling by covering the nose opening in his muzzle. Lion’s chest heaved, eyes going wide in panic.

“No more talking or you’ll get shut up forever. Tell her we're ready. Remember, you idiot, you’re a feral and that means animal noises.” The producer slapped Lion across the face. “And no passing out!”

Lion’s breath wheezed loudly through the muzzle, the young man obviously panicking as a condom was rolled down over his cock. His hands tightened into fists when the woman climbed over him, his whole body gone  rigid.

Lion halfway sat up abruptly, making the woman scream and recoil when his face was suddenly inches from her own. Vomit bubbled thickly out of the bottom of the muzzle and Lion’s shoulders shuddered with his retching.

The producer swore loudly. “Fuck’s sake. Loosen that, don’t want it suffocating on its own vomit. Sorry sweetheart, looks like today’s shoot is cancelled.” He apologized to the woman, who mostly just looked annoyed as she wrapped herself back up in her robe. “You absolute dick. What the fuck is wrong with you?” He berated Lion, who at this point was coughing and hiccupping hard, his face wet with tears. “You cost me this fucking contract and I’ll leave you in your fucking cell for the rest of your pitiful life!”

“Good!” Lion spat, easier to understand with the stifler loosened. “Want that!”

“Yeah I bet you'd love that. I don't have time to deal with you being a dramatic little shit. Get it back in its cage. Cut recording. What a waste of--”

The footage ended with a crackle of static.

“Man, you look like someone just punched you in the stomach. What was that?” Samson asked quietly after a minute.

“None of us have had it easy.” Adrian swallowed hard, closing his laptop carefully. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes. “It's always something, Elias.”

Elias reached across the center console and squeezed Neville's shoulder comfortingly. “We're doing what we can.”

“I should have known that shite like this would happen. I never thought...druggin' us, usin' us like damn livestock. Some absolute piss-head makin' his money off the trauma. I...It's a lucky thing Regal can get rid of the rages for the most part.” Neville snarled, his accent thick with anger. “Ah'd like to go off on tha' motherfucker, right proper. We can't let Mox see this. He'd go to pieces on us.”

“Look at it this way.” Elias reasoned. “Lion's with us now. All that garbage is behind him. We're going to help. Focus on all the good we can do, not the bad that's already been done. It'll eat you alive.”

“I know you're fuckin' right.” Neville grumbled. “You can't just let me be angry?”

“Hell no, you're stuck on the wrong thing when you get angry and you know it.”

“Bloody impossible.” Neville slumped a little further down in his seat. Elias rumpled his hair out of the tight bun it was in. “Oh piss off.”

“Nope!”

…

Moxley became aware of a strange trend over the days that followed. Lion kept pilfering his leather jacket. Every time Mox would slip out of it for a second, his shadow was there to scoop it up. Which would have been fine, except for the fact that Lion was a bit broader in the shoulders than Mox. So there would be the squeak of stressing leather that would alert him to the fact that someone was wiggling into his coat again.

Baron thought it was the funniest thing, trying his hardest to keep from laughing whenever Lion crept past with the article of clothing. A lot of times Mox would pretend he didn't see the other man, carrying on with his repairs. It seemed like there was always a leak that needed patching in someone's roof, but he supposed that came with the territory of secondhand trailers. At least now he had Baron to help. The taller man had a definite knack for spotting problem areas before they became so.

Mox wasn't sure if he'd ever get used to how quiet Lion was, or how closely he followed him. As Lion's sponsor it certainly made his job a bit easier. Didn't exactly have to go looking for the guy every time Regal demanded to see how his thighs were healing. Moxley did his best to maintain a respectful relationship with Lion, knowing that he walked the razor's edge between friendly and beholden in his line of work. Debts of gratitude weren't really his thing, it just made him feel awkward.

In a way it was a good thing Lion wanted nobody to touch him. Things were simpler when that was removed from the equation. Casual touch was rife in the 'feral' community though, so it took some getting used to.

He still got antsy with William if he was left alone, and sometimes Mox would have to help when it came to that by lurking in the doorway. Lion's thighs became a...well, calling it a problem would imply that it was bad. It wasn't a problem. Mox kind of just wished he could touch sometimes, was all. He wished that Lion didn't flinch every time he had to take his coat back.

Lion would stay up so late at night, obviously not used to any sort of sleep schedule. And without the haze of downers that Mox knew so well, he no longer seemed to feel the urge to dream his life away. Consequently Mox would find him passed out in odd places, usually by one or two in the afternoon. Once he found him on the roof of his trailer and they had a serious discussion about structural integrity and not ruining the waterproof treatment. Then Lion just kind of...jumped down. Mox damn near had a heart attack at that, scolding the black-haired man roundly and realizing halfway in that he was definitely a mother hen. Lion smiled at him and that stopped him dead. “Th' heck is with the grin? You coulda' broke a leg!”

“You're worried.”

“Damn straight I am! You gotta' think before you do things.”

They talked at length sometimes, normally when Mox was trying to sleep. “Moxley?” The question would come quietly through the dark. Mox always knew he could ignore it, but he didn't really want to.

“Yeah 'sup.”

They still weren't sure how long Lion had been where he was. Neville couldn't rustle up any records if he had nothing to type in at the beginning. All searches on the producer turned up frustratingly empty. Lion couldn't even recall his first name, his real name. It felt wrong to call him his feral name but until he settled on another one, Lion it was.

Moxley, while not really granted permission to touch him, was gifted the odd privilege of being allowed to brush his hair. He had seen Lion struggling one day with a hairbrush (Mox had no idea where he'd even gotten it, probably from Regal), the dark-haired man appearing on the verge of tears as he tugged and yanked at his unruly mane. “Hey, lemme' help.” Mox had carefully taken the brush from Lion's hand, hearing the other man sniffle threateningly.

When Baron had come to them he was filthy, his long hair tangled with mats and the vestiges of creepy-crawlies. Needless to say, Mox got very good at brushing. So it was slowly that he started, separating Lion's hair out into smaller sections.

It became a ritual of sorts, one that Lion could have put an end to if he wanted. But no, he continued coming to Mox once or twice a week with his brush. And Mox knew it was dumb for him to feel special, knew it was stupid and a waste of his time and all it did was further a doubtless-forming codependency and...

...and none of these reasons were enough for him to resist the way Lion's eyes looked when he asked for help.

Lion was mostly content to wade and stumble along on his own, stubbornly rebuilding his humanity from the ground up. Regal for the most part salved him and sent him on his way. Maybe he understood a little more than Moxley ever would. Maybe he was just tired of dealing with the rub marks, the scars and bruises from shackles probably commonplace to the pharmaceutical veteran. Lion refused to have his hand held proverbially or literally, refused all but the most clinical of attention. He wanted to be given tasks just like everyone else but Neville was leery of his strength level, worried that he wasn’t fully healed yet.

So Mox would ask him for help with little things. Ask him to pass him a screwdriver. Ask him to toss him some more clothespins. It was silly small stuff but Lion lit up eagerly every time, because it was something to do and he was needed.

…

There was a name that had been on the tip of his tongue for a solid week. He loved how it sounded, repeating it over and over quietly when he was alone. But he knew everyone else would think it was silly.

Maybe…maybe Mox would like it. The light-haired man had mentioned that calling him Lion made him uncomfortable, like he was ‘reinforcing the bad shit that had happened’.

“I’ll be a lot better when you pick a new name for yourself.” Mox admitted.

It had eaten away at him, the search for a real name. Mostly because he wasn’t really sure who he was. Male, sure, but according to Neville that had no bearing on the situation. “Whateva’ name makes you feel happy, we’ll be more than glad to call ya’ that. Boy, girl, don’t matter.”

He would go through lists in his head, lying awake at night while Mox snored in his bunk. Steve was a nice name, simple, but Alex had the sharp letters in it which would be easier to write. He had asked Moxley what he felt about John and Mox got real quiet for a long time, before finally muttering that it “wasn’t right for him.”

But this name wasn’t a common Steve, or a sharp Alex. He said it aloud to Mox and watched the other man’s body language for anything bad. Moxley mostly just seemed confused, then asked him to pass him the new timing belt for the truck he was working on. Which wasn’t exactly the response he’d been going for, but it definitely wasn’t a negative response either.

…

“Mox?”

Moxley groaned, rolling over onto his side to face the bundled-up man on the opposite bunk. “’Sup, Lion?”

“Roman.”

“Yeah man, you said that earlier, what’s it me-”

“I want that to be my name.” Lion interrupted, his brow furrowed like he’d been thinking hard about this. “I like it. I like how it sounds.”

“Well I shoulda’ known you wouldn’t go the conventional route.” Mox propped himself up on one elbow. “If Roman is what you want, it’s what you’ll get. Nice to meet ya’, Roman.” Moxley extended a hand across the trailer for a handshake, which Lion-Roman returned (to his surprise). “Name’s Mox, I do the fixin’ around here. Welcome aboard.”

“I…yeah. My name is Roman.” The excited smile he gave Mox sat odd in Mox’s stomach. “I’m Roman. Hi, I’m Roman.”

“Yeah yeah, don’t wear it out. You’re stuck with it forever.” Moxley warned with a laugh. “Roman.”

“I love it!” Roman didn’t seem to be able to stop smiling. “It’s mine. I have a name. I…I’ll be back.” He flung off his blanket and unlocked the door of the trailer, heading outside. Mox sat up, a little confused as he heard Roman climb onto the roof. “Moon!”

Mox grumbled under his breath, pulling on some pants and stalking to the door. “Jesus Roman, you can’t just go hollerin’ to the moon every time somethin’ happens. Get down from there before ya’ hurt somethin’.” He ordered, trying to keep the grin out of his voice.

‘Roman’ didn’t make him think of all the terrible things that had happened. ‘Roman’ was a fresh start, clean and enthusiastic and currently yelling at the crescent moon.

‘Roman’ was a good name.

Roman dropped to the ground in front of him, a little breathless. “I told the moon.”

“I noticed. So did everyone else.” Mox said wryly. “I’m sure Styles will be over any second now t’ scold ya’ for disturbin’ the peace.”

“Don’t care.” Roman didn’t look like he was ever going to stop smiling.

Mox couldn’t help the little snicker he let out. “Alright, let’s get back inside. S’ fuckin’ freezin’ out here.”

Roman wrapped an arm around Mox’s neck, surprising the hell out of him when he nuzzled his nose against his cheek like Neville would do. “Because we’re friends, just like you and Adrian.” Roman said, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.

Mox coughed. “Roman, Neville does that because he’s a fuckin’ weirdo. You might wanna’ pick a different call sign.”

“Oh.” Roman looked crestfallen and Mox felt a bit guilty. It had obviously taken a lot of guts to reach out like that and of course he shot it out of the sky. He bumped his forehead into Roman’s silently after a moment, displaying his own particular method of showing affection. Roman’s shoulders straightened out and like it was a reflex he full on headbutted Mox, cracking him right in the temple.

“Fuck!” Moxley yelped, taking a step back and holding the side of his face gingerly. “Christ, what gives man?”

“I…” Roman’s confusion was obvious. “…I thought I had to do it as hard as I could?”

“Fuckin’ hell, you really think that was all I had? Get over here you asshole, you’re gonna’ feel the wrath!” As the trailer was rather small, it wasn’t long before Mox had him in a loose headlock, undoing all the hard work he’d put in earlier when brushing.

Roman wound his arm around the back of Mox’s knees, freeing himself from the headlock by lifting Moxley bodily and then plopping him down onto his bed. Roman pinned him there, laughter coming in gasps as he dug his forehead against Moxley’s and rubbed it back and forth vigorously. “Ha! Now you’ll look like you headbutted the carpet.” He said when he pulled back to admire his handiwork.

Mox’s cheeks puffed out momentarily with the effort of stifling his own laughter. “You dope, you got the same mark on your forehead!” He laughed, rubbing his thumb over the red area.

“Kinda’ like the marks Baron makes? On his friend’s neck?” Roman sounded hopeful. “Is that his weird thing?”

On his friend’s neck. “Nah, Baron really likes his friend, so that’s a special thing he only does for them. I-” Roman buried his face in Mox’s neck and bit down, making Moxley snap, “Hey!” His stomach writhed at the way Roman instantly flinched back from his sharp tone. “Shit, sorry. You startled the fuck outta’ me, man. Can’t latch onto a guy like that.” Mox tried to play it off, tried to ignore the sad look that Roman got. “Roman, hey. You can’t just bite people. That’s rude.”

“But you just said…you said Baron did it special for his friend because he really likes them.” Roman pointed out.

“Roman, Baron’s friend also agrees to that beforehand. You don’t get to do something to another person without their permission.”

“Oh.” Roman’s eyes suddenly widened and Mox braced himself for the impact. “Why did…when I was at the other place, they never…” The black-haired man didn’t seem to be able to finish his sentences, sitting back on his haunches. “The…producer.” He finally snarled, his voice gone harsh.

Mox sat up cautiously. “What about him?”

“Never asked me.”

“You weren’t a person to him. Nobody like us is a person to that guy.”

“I am a person. You’re a person, too.” Roman insisted. “And Baron and Neville and Elias.”

“I know that, Ro. You’re more of a person than that fucker could ever imagine.” Mox said fiercely. “You’ve got a name now, a name that shithead never heard. A name he never touched. You ain’t ever been Lion, that’s not who you are. S’ just what they called you.”

Roman’s face was still troubled so Mox took his hand, slowly tightening his grip until Roman responded in kind. The two of them sat there in silence, Roman staring down at their hands and Mox staring at Roman while the other man was deep in thought. “Roman is my name.” Roman finally said softly. “Because I say so.” He raised their joined hands, making eye contact again. “And because you say so.”

“Your opinion is the only one that should matter here, man.”

Roman shook his head. “No. You let it be real. You said it out loud.”

“Hey, Neville told you we’d call you whatever you wanted. Plus, we aren’t assholes.” Mox didn’t really feel that this should be made into a big deal. The way that Roman was looking at him had his skin crawling with nerves and he swallowed hard. “It’s your name. Your body. Your call as far as who does what to you, from the second Neville opened that door. And don’t take any shit from anyone who tries to tell you otherwise.” Mox said gruffly, dropping Roman’s hand after one last squeeze. “Plenty of folks out there will tell you until they’re blue in the face that you shoulda’ stayed put, that you deserved whatever happened t’ ya’ because of who you are. You ever come across anybody like that, you jus’ tell ol’ Moxley. I’ll fix their fuckin’ wagon.”

“You’re a good friend, Mox.” Roman said shakily. He wiped at his eyes after a minute. “M’ sorry, I know it’s late. Just wanted to hear whether you liked my name.”

“That’s a proud as hell name. Tough.” Mox wanted to laugh at how red Roman got. “You don’t even have to grow into it.” He snapped his fingers after a second. “Oh, I keep meanin’ to ask. Why the hell do you steal my jacket?”

“Smells like you.” Roman replied simply. Mox wasn’t really sure what the noise that came out of him was but he was incredibly happy he managed to camouflage it into a sneeze. “Bless you.”

“I just…I uh, I’m gonna’ hit the hay. I’m glad you picked a name, man. Tomorrow you can tell Nev and he’ll get you squared away.”

…

Smells like you. Mox shook his head at himself, trying to keep reading the manual for the solution to the latest mechanical nightmare he’d come across. Through the screen door of the trailer he could catch glimpses of the fire Styles and Samson had built, and faint strains of guitar reached his ears as night fell on the small convoy.

Baron didn’t exactly have a great singing voice, but he definitely made up for his pitch with volume. Mox would have loved to join them, but he was extremely leery of fire. There had been an incident when he was in juvenile housing, a glorified kennel that turned into a firetrap when someone had dropped a cigarette.

He was grateful that his trailer had a microwave. Even the little propane stove made him anxious.

Roman opened the trailer door as Elias started a rousing chorus of ‘Wonderwall’, his face sticky with the remnants of a s’more. “You gonna’ come out?” He asked hopefully. “There’s an open chair.”

“Can’t. Gotta’ figure this out.” Mox grunted, staring at the same page he’d read backwards and forwards for the past twenty minutes.

“Please?”

“Ro, m’ busy. And I don’t do fires. Ever.”

Roman shut the door behind him, wiping the marshmallow off his chin as an afterthought. “What?”

“I said I don’t do fires?” Mox raised an eyebrow. “What, Elias didn’t tell you my deep dark secret? M’ scared of fire.”

“You’re scared of something?”

“Yes Roman, I am afraid of something.”

“But-” Roman gestured vaguely with his hands. “You’re so brave, though!”

Mox couldn’t help the little huff of laughter that escaped him. “I ain’t nothing like that. Somebody lied to you.”

“No, I’ve seen it.” Roman insisted. “Like the other day when the motor was still running in that truck and you just kind of stuck your-”

“You’re confusing stupid with brave. Common issue. See, Neville is brave. He’s brave because he’s smart and quick and quiet.” Mox pointed at the Band-Aid covering the busted-up area on his hand. “I am stupid.”

“Would a stupid person have pulled me out of that cellar hole?” Roman asked testily.

“Well that’s more of a morals question, Ro, we were definitely breaking and entering-”

“Mox.”

“A dumb person absolutely would have done it, man. Would a dumb person have succeeded, is the question you oughta’ ask.” Mox put down the manual, looking up at Roman. “If that dumb person is directed by Neville? Shit, he can take near any rotten situation and turn it into an advantage. If that dumb person is me? I stop at nothin’. Fuck that hell or high water shit. I’m useful in this group because I’m stupid. I embrace that talent, Ro.”

“You’re brave.” Roman repeated stubbornly. “Bravest person I know.”

“You say such nice shit.” Moxley scoffed with a grin.

“I’m scared of something.” Roman said hesitantly. “I…I mean if you can be scared of stuff, I can too, right?”

“Fear is healthy and natural. S’long as you don’t let it rule you, obviously.” Mox opened his mouth, then quickly shut it again. “If you…ever needed to talk to someone about what you’re scared of, you know I’m here.” He offered finally. “No judgement zone, Ro. I don’t even care if you think it’s dumb.”

“M’ scared of people touching me.” Roman mumbled, twisting the hem of his shirt. “I don’t…scared of…I’m scared of people touching me when I’m, um...”

“When your clothes are off?” Mox supplied. Roman nodded quickly. “That’s kinda’ to be expected, man. You got manhandled and you never want that shit to happen again.” Mox willed his jaw to loosen. It had gone tense when he thought about what Roman must have endured.

“I’m all messed up though. In my head. Because I want…I want to. But I’m scared.” Roman seemed frustrated.

“You want people to touch you…naked.” Mox said slowly, his stomach lurching at the idea.

“I want one person to touch me naked.” Roman corrected, refusing to meet his eyes.

“I…”

“It was always girls. He only let girls have me. I don’t know if that has anything to do with it.” Mox’s hands clenched down onto the bunk under him. “Sometimes he would flick me on the tip of my…he’d flick me with his fingers.” Roman just kept talking. “If I didn’t cooperate he’d cover my nose so I couldn’t breathe.”

“Roman, please, Jesus Christ.” Mox said weakly. “You shoved your face into my neck an’ started fuckin’ cryin’ when we came up those stairs. Doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that some terrible shit’s happened to you.”

“I want you to touch me.” Roman said, his voice faltering a little. “I want…I trust you. I want to know if I’m broken or not. I mean, it’s alright if I am, I’ll figure it out. I just want to know.”

“You want me to…”

“I want you to touch me all over and I want…I want to see what happens.”

“I can tell you what’ll happen, man.” Mox got to his feet, brushing off his jeans. “But if it’ll make you feel better, if it’ll help you? Yeah, I’ll touch you without ya’ clothes on. Pretty sure I’m getting the better end of this deal, anyhow.” He tried to joke, the humor falling flat when Roman hurriedly yanked his shirt over his head. “Hey, hey. Be gentle to y’self. You’re safe here.”

“Don’t want to waste your time, I know you’ve got the thing.” Roman nodded at the manual. “Have to fix problems.”

“Shh, that ain’t a priority. It’s alright.” Mox carefully laid his hands on top of Roman’s to still them, the young man already heading for his zipper. “So clothes-off one-o-one here, first rule is if you ain’t into it, clothes stay on. Simple. Easy to remember.” He murmured. “Second rule is ask first. ‘Can I’ or ‘may I’ always goes better than ‘I’m going to’. Can I unzip your pants?” Mox asked softly.

Roman’s mouth was a little slack, his eyes a little wider than before. “Y-Yeah.” He gulped.

Mox slid down the zipper. He watched with quiet fascination as Roman’s torso trembled from a shaky breath. “May I touch?” Mox flattened his palm on Roman’s chest when the other man nodded rapidly, just feeling the way Roman tried to keep his breathing under control. “Hey, I’m not gonna’ cut you off. Breathe regular.” He instructed. Roman looked guilty and Mox began tracing the lines inked on his chest. “No no, none of that. Just breathe. Nice and easy.”

“Want to.” Roman arched a little and Mox’s fingers trailed over his nipple. “Oh.”

That was a noise that would make anyone curious. “Like that?” Mox asked, lazily circling his index finger around Roman’s nipple, which began to harden from the attention. “Is that good?”

“Oh God, jeez, I-” Roman fumbled for his words, settling on a simple, “No one’s ever…not there.”

Moxley huffed out an annoyed noise. “’Course not. It’s never been about you, right?” He ducked his head to carefully lick the area, encouraged by fingers slowly working their way into his hair and Roman muttering oh God oh God over and over. Mox took it as a compliment. “Where do you want me to touch you next?” He pulled his mouth away to ask, walking his fingers over Roman’s other pectoral.

“Huh?” Roman asked dazedly. “Oh! Oh. Sorry. I um, I…this is so strange.” His hands continued to stroke through Moxley’s hair absently. “How do you make it so good?”

“I ask. And I only use my teeth when people beg for ‘em.” Mox’s hands moved down to touch Roman’s hips while he kept his mouth busy. “What do you want me to do?”

“I…oh.” Roman covered Mox’s hands, his face suddenly serious. “I almost forgot.” He said sheepishly.

“Hey, we don’t have to go any further than this.” Mox assured him. “I ain’t here for me, so don’t worry about stoppin’.”

“I know.” Roman tugged his pants over his hips, letting them settle around his thighs. “More? Please?”

“Much as you want.” Mox replied quietly. “Can I touch you? Through your boxers. I ain’t got to touch your skin if you don’t want me to just yet.” He slid his palm down the expanse of Roman’s stomach, chuckling a little when Roman sighed. “Touchin’ doesn’t have to be frantic. And it doesn’t have to lead t’ anythin’. When you say stop, it stops.”

“You can touch me. No…no flicking, please.” Roman mumbled, biting his lip and making another noise when Mox smoothed his hands down his sides. “Y-Yeah, mm, good.”

“I like when you talk.” Mox whispered, easing his palm over the front of Roman's boxer briefs. “When was the last time you touched yourself?”

“I um...” Roman was clearly, endearingly flustered.

“How do you touch yourself? Can you show me what you like?” Mox asked gently. Roman went silent, his fingers twitching nervously. “Roman? Do I need to stop?”

“No, no. I just...I mean, no one's ever asked me that. Dunno' what to say.” Roman shrugged, grimacing.

“O-kay.” Moxley said slowly, running his thumb down the curve of Roman's cock beneath his boxers. Roman put his hands on Mox's shoulders, exhaling hard into the air between them. Mox felt like he might be a little overdressed for the situation but the last thing he wanted was to scare Roman off.

Roman bumped their foreheads together and moaned, jumping slightly when Mox rolled one of his nipples between his fingers. “Ah, God, yes, that-” He pleaded, “More, touch me I--fuck-”

“Look at you, God.” Mox murmured, a little awestruck at the way Roman bucked his cock clumsily into his hand, practically rubbing himself off. “You like that? Y' like when I stay still an' you can just hump up against my fingers?”

“Make my stomach feel funny when you say stuff like that.” Roman groaned and Mox felt like someone had cranked the heat up.

“Yeah? So I shouldn't talk about how I want you t' rub yourself on my thigh until you come? Shouldn't say that, because it makes your belly drop out? I shouldn't talk about how I wanna' tease your chest until you're achin' for me to touch you, dick all stiff and leakin' on your stomach? Shouldn't talk about that?” He asked, his words tripping out in an excited rush.

“Fuck.” Roman whimpered, his fingers digging into Mox's shoulders and pulling him in tight against him so he could tuck his face into the other man's neck. “Mox, Mox, please-”

“You can bite me if you want to.” Mox offered.

Roman looked up, gray eyes wide. “But you said-”

“For special friends. Because I really like you.” Mox grinned. “You're lettin' me touch you all over. S' only fair.”

“I want to, I want to, Mox, are you sure I can?” Roman was half-asking, half-begging, his mouth already open over Moxley's neck.

“All yours, Ro.” Roman's tongue tasted the area momentarily before his teeth crushed down and Moxley had to choke back a satisfied grunt. “Yes, fuck, Roman-” He growled.

“I'm-” Roman's whole body went tight and Mox wasn't sure he'd ever been this satisfied by someone else getting off in his entire life. Roman's moans were stifled by his skin, the frantic bucks of his hips dissolving him into a quivering mess and then Roman kissed him abruptly, mouth hot on his own. “Oh! Shit, I...sorry.” The black-haired man gasped, pulling back. “Should have asked, sorry.”

“I am not complaining.” Mox panted, “Hi Roman, I'm Mox, and I am fuckin' here for this shit.”

…

He managed to convince Mox to come out and sit by the fire, now almost burned out. Baron had apparently decimated a bag of marshmallows all by himself, his friend beside him looking decidedly stickier than they had before.

“Look at you!” Elias praised Moxley, smiling broadly as the light-haired man settled warily into the folding chair. Once he pulled it a little ways back, of course. Roman sat on the ground between Mox's legs, having promised to keep him safe from the fire. “And of course, ever present Roman. I've got a song for you, man.” Samson tinkered with the instrument on his lap for a second, humming a few bars. “Me, and my shadow, walking down the avenue...” He crooned slowly, strumming away. “There's no one here but me, me and my shadow...”

Roman eased back against Moxley and felt careful fingers lace into his hair, stroking over his scalp. Without intending to, his eyes drifted shut. He fell asleep there, wrapped in the warm sensation of Moxley's body solid against his own and those fingers, gently rubbing.

“There's no one here but me and my shadow...”

Part Three

[theloniousbach]

Also for 50 Years: Playing Music After a Fashion

Hot Tuna is on a 50th anniversary tour and are returning to a St. Louis casino in March 2020, having been at the Sheldon in September and, not strictly part of the anniversary, Delmar Hall in December 2018.  Only the December 2018 show was acoustic and fine as the Sheldon show was I’m not sure about going so soon to the casino even if it may be my last chance to see them, especially Jack Casady.

But they have had a huge impact on me.  Indeed their first album is why I bought a $60 Yamaha acoustic guitar in 1970 rather than an electric one.  Having CSNY, James Taylor, and the Dead’s Workingman’s Dead/American Beauty twofer merely reinforced the choice.  But even with a flat pick, tunes like Know You Rider and Uncle Sam Blues were favorites from the start.  I had that Yamaha until a garage sale 34 years ago to prepare for Sam K’s birth.  I can’t say I played it all that regularly (and my repertoire of 70s folk rock mostly strummed was both stale and simple), but I had it.

If Sam was to “blame” for the lack of a guitar for a few years, he also saw one at a garage sale and helped bring it home from a garage sale about 8 years later.  By then we were going to Focal Point and I started to fingerpick albeit with a lazy thumb.  First position chords, standard tuning then and still.  The repertoire centered around traditional songs based on a Sing Out book with the lyrics and chords to hundreds of songs.

As part of a job buyout, I splurged on a Vantage Dreadnought from Music Folk.  It was a lucky buy as it is an awfully good guitar for the $400 I spent for it in 1994.  Solid spruce top, cherry sides, good tone and easy to play.

My thumb got a little more disciplined through VHS tapes from Homespun from Doc Watson and, yes, Jorma Kaukonen and even more from lessons from Steve Mote.  Steve was a fixture of the St. Louis folk sing, a versatile member of the very eclectic Geyer Street Sheiks, the old-timey  Boney Goat Band, and earlier trad/swing Spatz.  He was a sweet sweet guy beneath seemingly prickly idiosyncrasies.  

I was not a particularly diligent student but I was eager and interested.  My own prickly idiosyncrasies included then (a little less now) rigidity and fear of “mistakes.”  I felt the need to know the right chords and to play them, stuck on the words not the sentences or even paragraphs.  The analogy with spoken language suggests comparable walls I hit with speaking French.  Steve properly pushed me out of the nest to go to old time ensemble lessons in the very early days of the Folk School which grew to independence and then integration into KDHX.  I learned some but didn’t relax into it.  

While still in the nest, Steve started me with Mississippi John Hurt and the other acoustic blues that has always been my Jorma-inspired wheel house.  But I was even then playing to listen better, to understand the music I love.  So we looked at jazz chords, flat picking, and Celtic and old-time.  

More recently, I took about a year of Irish lessons from John Bolduan, one of Judy Stein’s emergency back up children.  John plays in standard tuning (though he has a thorough grasp of voicings up the neck).  From him, I loosened up at leas a little, developing a slight ability to cope with sessions/playing with recordings to find the key/mode and rhythm.  As in jazz the chord possibilities are more open.  There are certainly better choices than others, but within a key/mode the choices are safer.  Plus Martin Hayes pointed out that Celtic music is more like Baroque which both helped loosen things up and, even more importantly, pushed me to listen to that era of European Tradition Art Music and then chamber music.

But it is in this past year that playing music has become a fixture, a grounding practice as much as exercise, listening, and yes this writing.  My historical/literary approach to music, in parallel to a similar approach to science, has always given me a window into what musicians (and scientists) do, think, and hear.  I’m now also getting it in my hands and getting closer.

The real boost has been from getting the electronic keyboard equivalent of an upright piano.  My instrument was under $300 because it only plays in five voicings.  I may eventually get into some jazz where the Fender Rhodes setting will be fun, but I am perfectly content with the acoustic piano setting.  Properly weighted keys and 88 of them that sound right through earphones is perfect.  I initially thought I’d work my way through the Bach Inventions, but only #1 was sufficiently familiar to make for something recognizable from the page.  The bass clef is largely foreign ground still.  But I will return to Bach and the bass clef too.

I also have a Fake Book and a collection of Monk transcriptions which I moved to. With so many choices, I tried out many of them delighting in seeing how they fit together and realizing that I was playing “listener’s piano.”  Musicians in school, whatever their instrument, take piano to get theory in their hands.  Lots of jazz musicians play “composer’s piano” for that purpose and to introduce their tunes to band mates.  I play to listen better, same as I did with Steve.

It also had the impact of spurring my guitar playing in ways that are vivid but that I can’t put into words beyond that there’s more music in me that wants to get out.  I play daily and for longer stretches.  I have bought TWO guitars since the piano, both Alvarezes--a concert model and a 12-fret parlor--that I have had to explore and discover. I’m learning tunes quicker, including going back to Mote tabs.  I’m even just slightly recognizing conventions and patterns so that specific arrangements are suggestions and guides, not lock step recipes.  I’m beginning to PLAY.

I’m bringing those habits and insights back to the piano.  I’m focusing on just a few tunes, digging into them, working on at least rudimentary left hand chords to see the harmonies play out.  Ellington’s “Come Sunday” had those elements from a relatively early stage, but I’ve extended it to Monk’s “Well You Needn’t” and “Misterioso.”  The Thelonious Bach schtick actually works as Monk’s compositions have their own Inventions/Art of the Fugue/Well-Tempered Clavier logic that is beautiful and deceptively simple.

I’m extending that approach to Strayhorn’s “Chelsea Bridge” and Rowles’s “The Peacocks.”  I play for a few minutes rather than read in bed putting my brain in an interesting place ahead of sleep.

I won’t claim to be a musician but it’s so much a part of who I am that I await today the fruits of a generous Barnes and Noble gift certificate from co-workers:  guitar transcriptions (including, gasp, tablature) of the Bach Cello Suites and another collection of jazz standards.

It will be 50 years of trying to play in 2020 and I’m beginning to figure a few things out.