#the induction at home if that’s okay with you’

[fingertipsmp3]

If some idiot at the doctor’s gave me a cold right before I’m supposed to start my new job I swear I’m going to launch myself into space

[freedomfireflies]

Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun pt. 2*

Summary: The sequel to Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun

You find yourself sat next to the Harry Styles on a plane.

And what better way to get to know each other than a quick induction into the Mile High Club?

Word Count: 2.1k

(Thank you for letting me spam you guys for one whole year🥹💞 I love you!!!!!)

*Contains Mature and Explicit content! Please only consume what you feel comfortable with!💞 You are so much more important!*

“Hi, Stranger.”

Harry grins as he pulls the small door shut, secluding the two of you in the world’s smallest bathroom. “Hi.”

“Gonna be honest, I didn’t expect you to show,” you admit.

“Oh?” His arms cross as he takes a step closer, effectively closing the only gap between you. “And what about our earlier conversation suggested I wouldn’t?”

“Well, maybe the fact that you’re all talk and no game,” you retort, eyebrow raised as you look up at him. “Or the fact that you don’t seem like the quick-airplane-bathroom-fuck type.”

“I have a song about eating pussy, is that not enough?” he teases, a smirk dancing across his lips. “I feel like that should solidify my case.”

“Yeah, you’d think…but no.” Your eyes trail across his jaw, drawn to the sharp curve, intrigued by the subtle beauty. “Maybe if this were the first-class bathroom. Which would make a lot more sense for you.”

“What’s wrong with coach?”

“Nothing. When you’re poor. Which you’re not.”

“And that has to do with us fucking…how?”

You hesitate, mouth clamping shut. “I…don’t know.”

Nodding with an amused grin, he reaches out to place his hand on the small sink and lean forward, trapping you to the wall. “I think you’re nervous.”

“Well no shit, Sherlock.”

He hums, kind eyes helping to relax you. “Guess we’re both more talk than game.”

And maybe you are. Maybe this is nothing more than you calling his bluff. Or calling your own. Maybe this was you getting swept up in the idea of Harry Styles. The man, the myth, the legend. Maybe you just wanted to prove to yourself that you could.

Either way, despite the nerves, you’re oddly tantalized by the idea. Wanting to seize the moment, the opportunity that most people would kill for.

So, you surge forward, and press your lips to his.

It’s a hesitant kiss. On both ends. The first few seconds a tad awkward as you work to wrap your heads around how you got here. How you really feel about it.

And then…something changes.

He steps closer, straightening up to deepen the kiss, and you nearly wilt when his large hand slips around the back of your neck to keep you against him.

Things suddenly feel effortless. Practiced yet relaxed. Mouths and tongues moving together like they were always meant to. Molding seamlessly until all of your air belongs to him.

His other hand finds a home on your hip, pushing you against the small bathroom wall while his knee takes its place between your thighs.

And when he finally pulls back to rest his forehead against yours, it feels as though everything makes sense.

“We can go back to our seats,” he whispers, giving you an out.

But you don’t want an out. 

“No,” you murmur, fingers tangling in the shirt on his chest. “No, you promised to make me scream your name. Can’t pussy out on me now.”

The smirk returns as he brushes his thumb along your cheek. “So I did. But I guess it depends on which name you call me by.”

Your breath hitches.

“You can call me Harry,” he begins softly, dipping back down to ghost his lips across yours, “or you can call me Daddy.”

And discovering that Harry Styles has a Daddy kink makes more sense than it should, and you have to grin as you press your mouth to his. 

“Okay, Daddy,” you agree, just to watch him swallow. “Then why don’t you make good on your promise to fuck me?”

You watch the most beautifully dark expression flash across his face before he’s grabbing onto your waist to spin you around.

Your cheek is pressed to the wall while those large hands that have been taunting you for the past half hour begin to tease you again. Crawling up the inside of your thigh until he can grab onto the waistband of your jeans and yank the material down your legs.

“Just so you know,” he grunts in between the rustling of his belt, “I’m normally pro-foreplay. But I figure we don’t exactly have the time right now.”

“I know,” you agree. “It’s fine.”

He reaches around your hip to slide his palm down your cunt, and you sigh when you feel him cup you in his hand. 

“What’s this?” he hums, rather sadistically as his nose brushes against your cheek. “Guess I didn’t need to work you up, anyhow. Seems you’re already dripping for me.”

Your lashes flutter as he kneads your pussy for a moment before he lets go to take hold of his cock. 

“So, what’s it gonna be, angel?” he whispers, dragging the tip through your throbbing folds just to make you whimper. “You gonna be loud for me? Or are you gonna be quiet?”

More of a rhetorical question, you figure, because the answer is given to him when he pushes in, and you moan fervently.

He chuckles from behind you before it melts into some sort of delicious grunt. “That’s it. So fucking tight, darling. Take it, just like that.”

He pulls out, giving you only a second of reprieve before pushing back in. Stretching you a little more as he drives himself deeper into your cunt.

Your lip flies between your teeth as you swallow a string of curses and whines, desperate to feel him in every way possible.

“You all right?” he calls, and you feel his fingers gently squeezing your hip for reassurance.

It makes you smile. “Yeah,” you say back, nails scratching down the wall. “Go. Keep going.”

He obliges, working himself in at a quicker pace, and you see him watching out of your peripheral.

He seems mesmerized by the way his cock disappears into you. Addicted to the sounds now beginning to echo around the small space. Mixing in beautifully with his soft pants and your anguished whimpers.

“S’a good girl,” he murmurs beneath his breath, almost as if it wasn’t meant for you. “Fucking taking me so well, look at you. Pretty pussy just stretching for me. Likes having Daddy’s cock, doesn’t she?”

And maybe you shouldn’t be surprised by the filth coming from his mouth, but you are, and it makes you clench until you’re both gasping.

“Shit, angel,” he groans, burying himself a little deeper as you keen. “Like it when I talk to you like that, hm? Not so vanilla now, yeah?”

You want to thank your lucky stars for that damn book that led you both to this moment, nodding quickly as you squirm back against him. “Yes, Daddy—”

He pushes in to the hilt, overcome by the pleasure your words provide. His chest presses to your back, and instantly, you reach over your shoulder to grab onto his curls. Needing to hold him in some way.

“Fuck,” you sigh, vision hazy as your body works to accommodate him. “Okay go. Go, Harry, go.”

He smiles at the use of his name, and it does something strange to the butterflies already fluttering in your stomach. 

“Okay,” he agrees, pulling back and readjusting his grip on your waist to keep you steady. “Be good, yeah?”

The faster pace begins. Hard thrusts that nearly knock the wind from your lungs as your body shakes with each snap of his hips into yours.

It’s oddly satiating. Perfectly full and teasingly relentless. Quick fucks aren’t normally your forte, but this? With Harry? In the world’s tiniest bathroom?

Euphoria.

“Fucking squeezing me, darling, shit,” he exhales, gripping you tight in his hand. “Pretty little pussy looks so good clenching around my cock. Like it, angel, don’t you? Like letting me fuck your sweet cunt the way you’ve been needing?”

And you don’t know how he knows you’ve been so desperate, but he does, and it makes you mewl as you drag your nails down his scalp.

“Oh, I know,” he coos but it’s dark. “Can just tell. So fucking cock drunk. Desperate for anything I’ll give you. Even let a stranger fuck you, hm? Let me take care of you the way you deserve?”

“Yes,” you breathe, mindlessly reaching back for his other hand. Once you find it, you intertwine his fingers with yours and drag his palm up toward your neck. Placing it against your throat until he seems to get the hint.

He says nothing, simply squeezes you in his grip. Until the corners of your vision get fuzzy, and the small bathroom gets smaller.

“That’s it,” he hums, almost as if luring you into the darkness. “Let go for me, baby girl. Just like that. Daddy’s got you.”

Everything is heightened. Every sense, every second. You can feel his facial hair rubbing against your cheek. Can feel the calloused tips of his fingers cementing to your exposed skin. Can taste the drink he had on your tongue.

There’s a knock on the door. A hard tap, and Harry’s pace doesn’t falter for even a moment as he calls, “Fucking occupied,” before slamming back into you.

The noise you make is loud enough to be heard by whoever was on the other side. Perhaps his intention, and it makes your pussy clench once more at the thought.

“Bet you’d look fucking perfect on your knees,” he continues, unrelenting. “With my cock down your throat. Fucking drooling for me. And you’d take me, wouldn’t you? Take my cock like a good girl. Make me proud.”

The suggestion is exciting. The image in your head of you looking up at the glorious stranger from your place on the floor. Getting to feel him on your tongue. Down your throat. Anywhere he’ll have you.

You bet he likes to see his cum painted across a partner’s skin. Likes to run his fingers through it. His tongue. Collect it and taste it before spitting it into their mouths.

Your entire body shudders from the mental picture and even if Harry doesn’t know what garnered this response, he seems pleased with it. Tugging on you tighter until you’re practically sitting on him.

You’re running out of time. Running out of willpower, and he releases your throat to find your clit. The first time he’s truly touched it, and the sensation that follows nearly kills you.

You hadn’t anticipated being so sensitive, but you are, and it’s apparent to you both from the way you jolt when he pinches you.

“Oh?” He’s chuckling again, entertained by your reaction. “S’that all it takes then? Poor little cunt just needs some extra attention?”

He presses into you and begins to rub small, hard circles along the delicate nerves. Ignoring your cries and pleas for more.

Instead, his foot kicks your legs further apart, and his mouth attaches to your neck. Nipping just below your ear as he whispers, “Bet you taste fucking divine, hm? Bet I could write a whole song about the way this pussy tastes.”

He lets go just to bring his hand to his mouth. Sucking on the soaked digits and groaning in your ear.

A shiver rolls down your spine before he drags his saliva coated fingers back to your clit. “So fucking sweet, angel. But you already knew that, didn’t you? S’why you were teasing me all fucking day. Cause you knew I’d get addicted to you.”

You’re so close to release, you can see it. Can actually see the blinding stars barreling toward you like meteors. 

“And what if I am, huh?” He goes faster. Gets sloppier. Needing to get you both there. “What if I’m fucking addicted to you now? What if I can’t go without the taste of you?”

“Have it,” you sough, rolling your hips back against his cock. “Have me, Harry, please—”

“I will,” he growls, and you feel his cock twitch the closer he gets. “Fucking will, angel. Need you to come for me, yeah? Come for Daddy. Let me feel you around me, darling. Right fucking now—”

Everything is a blur. Maybe he comes first, maybe you do. It all melds together until it’s one, long string of orgasms and pleasure. 

He doesn’t let you go for quite some time. Pushing you to the very brink, making sure it goes as far as it can. Even after you’ve come down and are squirming away from the ministrations to your clit.

The sadistic need to make sure you’re ruined is evident, and he only stops when you begin to collapse in his hold.

“Okay, easy, angel, easy,” he whispers, grasping onto your hips to keep you upright. “You’re all right, yeah? You okay?”

You nod weakly as you catch your breath, and he takes this as a good sign. Allowing you to stand on your own when you’re ready.

But he doesn’t go far. He bends down and pulls your jeans back up. Makes sure you’re all right.

You notice he purposefully leaves the mess between your thighs, and when you shoot him a questioning eyebrow, his only response is, “For later.”

Which you don’t mind at all. 

I KNOW, I KNOW IT'S BEEN FOREVER!!!! I'M SO SORRY BUT THANK YOU FOR STICKING WITH ME AND BEING SO NICE, ILY ALL 😭💞💞💞

Previous Part:

~ Middle-Class Seats, First-Class Fun

~ Other Harry Blurbs

~ Full Masterlist

Taglist: @walkingintheheartbreaksatellite @keepdrivingkisses @swiftmendeshoran @tiredinwinter @straightontilmornin @justlemmeadoreyou @harrysdaydreams @tiaamberxx @peterparker1sgf @myfavfanficsever @littlenatilda @vamprry @fdl305 @tchalametishot @ssaama @indierockgirrl @likeapplejuicenpeach @vane28282

I'm also tagging you guys from the first part just in case, but if you've already moved on, I can absolutely understand 😭💞: @blackbookwhore @nellylayhoohoo @22fallenangel22 @watercolorskyy @ilovedilfs32 @nicodoesntexist @lelenikki @happypoptart

[pocket-watcher]

A yandere fic where someone has a secret hypnokink and the yandere learns this?

Oh anon, I hope you enjoy!

I’d been watching you…

I knew the routes you walked, the food you liked, the way you liked to do your hair. Everything about you was perfect.

Did you know your lip twitches a little when you’re nervous?

It started small. I would be where you were. I’d watch what you did with my own two eyes.

Putting my whole body into it.

But it wasn’t enough.

Hacking your phone was easy. Your search history was definitely interesting.

It was about a week after I first got ahold of your phone activity that I saw the spike in… searches.

Spirals. GIFs. Inductions. Hypnosis.

You were awful curious, weren’t you?

Made a whole new account just to scroll and watch and touch yourself to?

It was like unlocking a whole new side of you. And I wanted more.

So, I made an account. And I liked and reblogged everything you did.

After a while, you even followed me back!

That was when I started posting for myself…

Subtle triggers, burrowing in your brain, taking hold of you. I kept pushing you to message me. Message me.

After about a week or two you did just that.

I sent you spiral after spiral. Words to send you deeper. Sound files of my voice. You were such a cute and obedient subject!

After I was sure that I had you, I decided to test it out in person…

“Hey!” I called out to you. You turned around, distracted from your morning walk. You’d been up all night, talking to me - unknowingly. You were tired.

Your guard was down.

“Uh… hi?” You said, confused. You didn’t recognise me.

That’s okay.

“Sleep.” I said, snapping my fingers.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

You dropped your phone, silly you!

“Come on, let’s get you home.” I said, leading you back to my house, excited to test out all the work I’d put in over the last few weeks…

[moonlit-imagines]

Robin and the Stray (Part 2)

Dick Grayson x Kyle!reader

warnings: blood n death ment and urge to puke teehee

a/n:

prompt:

part 1

Joining the Titans wasn’t exactly something you had in mind. The Titans were all kind-hearted heroic-types with these clear cut motives and tragic or powerful backstories that drove them to do good. You were here for two reasons: Dick moved to the other side of the country and you were being “rehabilitated” from your kleptomanic ways while Selina was serving a short sentence.

It felt awkward being in their presence, every glance felt like a glare. They must be thinking how dare y/n stand and fight beside us, theyre nothing but a common criminal, a petty thief, we can’t trust them. Dick had always assured you that they didn’t think less of you, but when anything was misplaced they always seemed to look to you for an answer.

You and Dick had been together for a few years now, and not all of those years were you a cat burglar. Maybe here and there, mostly for kicks or just to prove you still had it in you. Sometimes just to mess with Dick and Bruce. But Dick never stopped trusting you, he found it amusing more than anything and you grew to love each other deeply. Nothing could change that.

You were already sort of a vigilante before you were inducted into the Titans, usually sticking to the lower levels of Gotham and helping women steal their purses back or a kid who was in the wrong place at the wrong time. Stuff like that. Unless, you know, Batman and Robin needed a hand.

As far as the Titans went, you were genuinely happy in San Francisco. It was a nice change of scenery after growing up in dark and gloomy Gotham. Dick felt free without Bruce standing by, doing what he could to make you feel comfortable here. Taking you on dates to new restaurants and going to beaches on your days off became a regular thing, something to make you forget you felt like you didn’t belong.

You had your own room, which was a nice change considering you and Selina typically shared or one of you slept on the couch or somewhere else depending on the night. Although, you spent most of your time in Dick’s room, it was hard to sleep alone most nights, he was like home to you. He’d mindlessly play with your hair and rubbed you back to ease your worried mind. He kept you sane.

But missions were different in so many ways. You had each other’s backs, sure, but you knew well enough that the two of you were more than capable of handling yourselves. Years of fighting against each other and beside each other made the team observer you two in awe, your fluid teamwork was incredible. To you, it was just another day.

“You okay?” Dick asked with your cheeks in his hands, looking down at you with a wet washcloth pressed between your cheek and his hand. “Don’t tell me you’re concussed, I’ll have to stay up all night with you.” You both chuckled weakly.

“I’m fine, just wiped from the past few nights.” You sighed as he wiped grime and blood from your face. You winced when he brushed against just below your eyelid where a bruise was budding. “I really got my ass beat tonight, huh?”

“We all did.” Dick wiped stray hairs from your forehead. “You seemed distracted, though. Thinking of me?”

“Gotham. Just homesick.” You told him and he kissed your forehead and continued you clean your wounds. He was pretty banged up, too, but he could tell you needed some TLC. “I love it here, but you know. I miss all that stuff. I miss Selina. I miss my cats. I miss Commissioner Gordon giving me shit for stealing and then helping him. I miss Bruce giving us lectures about staying focused. I miss Alfred trying to give us ‘The Talk.’” You rambled on while Dick nodded along, and your dull laughter caused another wince as you realized you maybhave a bruised or broken rib. “I miss you sometimes.”

“I’m right here.” He told you.

“Will you always be?” You asked.

“If all goes well.” He pulled out some bandages.

“What is that supposed to mean?” You continued to question.

“It means I don’t know the future and I won’t promise something I might not be able to control.” Dick explained in his smart-ass way. “It’s just the job, y/n. You know I love you.”

“I know you love the job.” You said tilting your head down and eyes up before he picked your chin back up.

“I don’t.” He replied.

“Keep telling yourself that.” Your sigh left his stomach slightly drop and you slid down off the table you were perched on. “I have to get a quick shower in, I’ll be back.” You trotted off the the bathroom to do so and left Dick alone with his thoughts, which you might have sparked something in him at this time. Unbeknownst to the two of you and the rest of the team, your lives were about to b me turned upside down in the worst of ways when Deathstroke entered your lives.

Your head was spinning at the time you heard the news of Garth’s passing. You fell into Dick’s arms and he held you so tightly. You felt as if you might puke and the rest of the team was right with you. Any barrier keeping you and them was broken down, there was no more tension or fear that kept you from getting close, the grief brought you all together.

It was Donna who apologized to you first, letting you know your worries were not that far off and there was a lot of distrust in you, but they moved on from it. It was the load off you needed after this tragedy. And Dick felt guilty he put you in that position, started blaming himself for so many things. You’d thought he’d get distant in all this anguish, but he wouldn’t let you go. He held on tight and began to worry for you more than usual, which worried you greatly. And it sucked because after all that happened with the Titans, you two had no choice but to go home.

“It’s what you wanted, right?” He asked you on the plane ride home, sitting across from each other on Bruce’s private jet.

“Not like this,” you stared out the window, picking at the seams of your jeans, “I just started feeling like I belonged. Now I’m leaving a place that felt like paradise. I really did love it there.”

“We can go other places. I’ll take you wherever you want to go.” Dick leaned forward and grabbed your hand. “I hate this, too. I love you, though. Wherever you go, I’ll go. It’s fine.” You closed your eyes and nodded.

“For now we’re going home.”

And you were home and it was dull and lifeless and you felt all the joy you had slip away as you fell back into old habits. Started to realize you stole because you were bored, you roamed the same streets and rooftops over and over because it was just what you did, you laod around all day and played with the cats but nothing was ever different. Not even when there was some huge debacle with a villain that belonged in Arkham Asylum. Not Two-Face or Riddler or Joker or Mr. Freeze or whoever’s weekly turn it was to enact a failure-destined plan to take over Gotham or kill Batman. It was all the same.

You sat on the same ledges and ate the same Pizza with Dick. You had meals at Wayne Manor with Bruce and Dick, a spot reserved for the late Alfred was an unfortunate change and maybe the only one. Bruce was paying your rent, offering you a bigger place or maybe one for you and Dick to share, but for some reason you couldn’t bring yourself to it. It already felt like you were taking advantage of him.

Don’t get me wrong, you loved Dick with all your heart, but he was off, too. It was obvious he fell back into his old ways. And something about it made it obvious he’d grown too fond of his life as a Titan. The independence and emancipation from Batman, where he called the shots and could do nice things with and for you. Maybe the guilt set in after another year or two or three. Because one day you were fine and the next, it was over. You looked back and realized that that promise you wanted him to make was never going to be fulfilled because he never felt secure himself. But that was his problem now, you would have helped if he’d let you.

It was awkward seeing each other in passing. After all, neither of you gave up your vigilantism. But avoidance was key. It was only a matter of time before he decided Gotham was too small for him now. You heard he’d moved to Detroit, good for him. You hoped he’d moved on and was doing well, you sure weren’t getting there anytime soon.

Then one day a few weeks later, you heard your phone ringing. Blocked Caller. You stared at the screen for a few moments grabbing the phone and holding it for a few more before you pressed the answer button. You put the phone to your ear but said nothing.

“Y/N? Y/N, it’s me. I need your help. I just—I need you.”

taglist: @volturi-stuff // @ravenmoore14 // @canarypoint // @brutal-out-here // @jinxll11 // @swanimagines // @captainshazamerica // @greek-mythographer // @cipheress-to-k-pop // @summersimmerus // @glxwingrxse // @azazel-nyx // @simsrecs // @xoxobabydolls // @azazel-nyx // @ravenstrueluv // @evilcr0ne // @sydknee624 // @retvenkos // @thedarkqueenofavalon // @elenavampire21 // @deanzboyfriend // @zoeyserpentluck //

[amuhav]

     “They’re really letting you home tomorrow?” River asked.      Sky chuckled. “They might. Seems we’re all fine, so.”      “Crazy,” Bay agreed. “To just push you out the door so soon with two entirely new humans.”      “They’re so tiny,” River said in quiet disbelief as he stroked the mitten on the boy’s curled little fist. “Is it because they’re twins? Were we all this small?”      “Just me.”      River’s head swivelled around. He had almost forgotten Loch was standing near the door, seemingly unwilling to get too close. His eyes were slightly glazed and distant, like he wasn’t fully present.      “You sure? I wouldn’t be surprised if Sky beat all the nutrients outta me for nine months.”      “Eight.”      “What?”      “Eight months. You were born early, too. We all were.”      Sky piped up. “Yeah, they warn you when you have twins. Still, woulda been nice to make it to my planned induction date rather than a scary mad dash. Guess you’ve got no excuse for forgetting their birthday, though, huh, Riv?”      “Bold assumption he’ll remember his anniversary either.” Bay laughed as River glared at him.      “Speaking of, is Chad okay?” Sky asked. “With you postponing the honeymoon and all?”      “It’s fine.” River shrugged off her concern. “I think we’re just gonna fly out and see some of his family sometime instead.”      “Before or after he shows?”      “Very funny,” River mumbled at his twin, too sidetracked by the cute sleeping baby to think too much on her words.      “I’m just gonna get something to eat from the shop,” Loch said suddenly, pushing off the wall. “You want anything?” he asked Sky, and she shook her head.      “Not gonna ask us?” River snarked.      “You’ll live,” Loch muttered, clearly not seeing the humour.

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[fandomwritingbit]

Battered & bruised

nightclub owner/William Afton x (fem)reader

synop: You've struggled getting employment because of your shady past, but the tides finally turn in your favour when a club owner called Henry gives you a job. And you're ready to work your arse off, not only in your security role but also with the other owner, William.

warning: swearing, violence. (reader is described as small)

A/n: Hello! This was my first ever au for William, so the ideas are genuinely 5 or 6 years old but the writing is today's lol. This is gonna be a series because I think the slow burn will work best this way.

A bloke called Henry Emily had given you a job. A security gig. Without an interview, without discussion of your role and without an induction. Just bam. He’d taken one look at you - then looked you up and down again for his own personal enjoyment - then listened to your whole speech about ‘wanting a chance to work hard’ and just gone: okay.

No CV. No experience. Nada. And that was exactly what you were looking for. Rent was due and to be honest you were in great need of some money. Plus it was hard for you to find work, especially given your... history. 

He’s hired you because you’re brazen and easy on the eyes, it’s all a bit sleazy really, you’d thought so at the time too. But at least sleazy men are easy to manage.

He’d grinned at you. “Yeah alright, we’ll give you a try. You seem like a nice girl. Uh why don’t you rock up on Friday and we’ll show you the ropes?” 

“Yeah that’s great, thank you so much.” You smiled at him, offering your hand for him to shake it. God if this fella had looked into you this would never have happened, he’s a sucker in that respect. But you wouldn’t make him regret it. You were after nothing but a regular income and it’d been fucking hard to find acceptance, to jeopardise it would be a fool’s errand.

His use of the word 'we' hadn't crossed your mind, you assumed he was the owner, after all you asked for the owner and he was brought to you. But maybe that’s some just desserts for not applying properly. 

~ 

On that Friday, you arrived early, really using all that punctuality shit that had been drilled into you since secondary school. But a little prickle of anxiety settled in when you didn’t see any cars in the car park. You were only 10 minutes early; your start time at 20:00 ready for doors to open an hour later. But How will you get in if no one is there, for fuck’s sake? Your thoughts manifested in your head tilting the whole way back, a hefty sigh accompanying it.

Doubting yourself all the way, you go to the front doors and mercifully, they are unlocked and you walk into the nightclub you’d now call your home from home.

The lights were on, so someone must be there. Yet no one came to meet you at the door, even though you said hello fairly loudly. You smirked to yourself, walking inside uninvited and musing at how some cleaner was probably going to tell you off. They must be hidden away and now you’d have to tiptoe around trying to find them. Not too bad though, at least you can have a look around.

Moving further inside, you walk down a grey corridor with garish black and white dado rail the whole way down. It was peculiar décor to say the least, though obviously, it would look completely different with people inside. 

Your footsteps were foreign in the quiet building, but you tried to keep a bit of confidence as you began your exploration. It took a while to find your way around - a few doors opened to cupboards stuffed with mops and loo roll, spilling out while you tried to shove all the shite back in. Surprisingly, you’d found a kind of lounge area, a few grey and red sofas, some big arse speakers lining the walls: a lot of money in that room, you thought. A past impulse echoing through you.

Eventually, you make your way to the ‘main area’, if you like. The part with the huge floor for people to dance, a small stage before it, with old looking lights and stuff, maybe you’d get to see a few local bands perform during your tenure, could be nice. You walk over to it, the back of the stage pitch black, so dark you couldn't tell if it was a curtain or not and stood on your tippy-toes like an idiot trying to decide. 

Rustling from behind you, makes you turn to see a brightly coloured poster flitting to the floor after clearly having fallen from a board on the wall. You’ll pick it up, but before moving to do so you glance back to the stage offhandedly; the sight of a huge figure standing in the middle makes the skin leave your bones.

You can’t even help yourself, raising your hands almost immediately, “What the fuck are you doing, mate? You scared the shit out of me!” The figure moved further forward so that you could see him, it wasn’t Henry. This man was overly tall and slender with dark greying hair. Your anger quickly subsides at the expression on his face and you chuckle, the shock catching up to you. “Jesus...” 

The man standing on the stage looked... fuming, to say the least. His brows narrowed and jaw stuck forward. He looked so pissed that you panicked for a minute, ready to backtrack a fair bit. But that feeling didn’t last long, the figure stepped down off the stage and walked towards you. As he stood in front of you, you found yourself stepping backwards, tilting your head to meet the eyes of this ridiculously tall and broad bloke. 

“I scared you?” The man spoke slowly, voice deep and raspy. He wasn’t shouting, he didn’t need to. “What the Hell do you think you’re doing in my club?”  

Well. Oh. Dear. It appears that you’d just been rather rude to someone important. Who’s first impression of you as an employee was now you effing and jeffing at him. Shit.

“Look... I’m sorry, mate. You scared me is all.” You speak quickly, trying to claw back a semblance of civility. Searching his face for some emotion other than boredom/anger, but nope there was nothing.

You think you see a flicker of amusement cross his face but it doesn't last two seconds. “I’ll ask again, what are you doing here?” 

“Oh uh, I’m y/n.” You look at him for a look of recognition but he appeared none the wiser. “Mr Emily hired me... told me to come in today.” 

You notice the pinch between his brows got more severe and you pick up on the hostility between this fella and your boss. He looked at you blankly, making no effort to fill increasingly brutal silence. You’re just about regretting ever being born, thinking about walking out and knocking on doors ‘til you find another idiot willing to hire you. But to your surprise a demeaning smirk appears on the man’s face as he looks down at you, and you breathe out slightly. 

“Henry hired you?” He scoffs, moving his hand up and down in front of you to illustrate your height, “To do what? Sit on a pot of gold?” You get the feeling that he was trying to annoy you, make you want to storm out or some shit but you can only smirk at that terrible joke. 

“Security, innit.” You say shortly, smiling back because... yeah you weren’t exactly the typical bouncer. “Uh who are you then?” You ask, half a shrug awkward on your shoulders.

He did not look best pleased by that question and folded his arms, eyes daggers at you. “Henry hasn’t told you shit, has he?” A scoff of a laugh came from this bloke but it looked coated in resentment. 

“No, made me look a fuc.... mug.” You mumble.

“We’re co-owners, for some fucking reason.” He looked you up and down but not in the way that his counterpart had, if anything, it looked like he was sizing you up. And after a moment he just said, “William.” With a curt gesture to himself.

Once such an introduction had been made, he continued to complain, pissed that Henry hadn’t even told you what to do or where to get your uniform. You were thrusted upon him like a shitty diagnosis and he was left to sort you out? Always sorting out Henry’s shit he was.  

And he did sort you out, giving you orders to your responsibilities, going into a store room to get you a uniform, a room you weren’t allowed to enter because of asbestos in the walls. A really comforting thing to hear on your first day, though you'd come to learn that that summed up the whole of this shitty club. 

The whole thing was falling apart, left in this William's hands to sort out. And he was clearly working hard, but it was like trying to piss a fire out.

 ~

You’d thought that the frosty reception from William could have been just because you were new, that he’d probably warm up to you as you got a few weeks under your belt. Well, that wasn’t the case.

From the first day it became abundantly clear that he was just as snippy and unreceptive with everyone else. Be it ignorance, arrogance or plain uninterest, no one really knew, but he went about his role and gave you shit if you dared to overstep into his path. Which was enough motivation for you to put some graft in with the bastard. Fuck’s sake, everyone else was getting on well with you, from security to bar staff, Henry was damn-near obsessed! You’d get him on side, by hook or by fucking crook.

It started with a simple ‘good afternoon’ spoken loudly at him through his office door, letting him know your presence in the building, which was nearly always much earlier than everyone else. Then a smile any time you encountered him, not a suck-up kind of sweet smile but the kind that had raised eyebrows, self-deprecating and the like. 

Yet it still felt like he bloody hated you. Not even a passionate hate, like you’d done something to genuinely offend him or run him over on the way there. A bored kind of vague dislike that he held for everyone else.

That won’t stand though. And you’re determined to fix it.

~

You’d come to learn over your short tenure there that Friday nights were fucking brutal. It seemed fuckers from all over would crawl out of the gutter to get pissed with their mates here. Course, it was good for business but as an employee not an owner you got all the hassle and none of the tassel. You were on duty in the main area and stood a post near the back corridors, watching for any odd behaviour and making sure everyone was as happy as you can be in a crumbling nightclub.

You find yourself clock-watching about half-way in and cross your fingers that the night will go mercifully quickly. Your counting of the minutes ‘til you could clock off is interrupted by a youngish lass coming up to you. Instantly your eyebrows are high, the person on the door dropped the ball on this one, this lass barely looked 18. 

“Hey, do you uh work here?” The girl asks, looking over her shoulder for a second, before returning to you. You almost want to roll your eyes, of course you fucking work there, no one would do patrol for fun, would they? Carry a radio around for the craic of it? But her wide eyes make you bite your tongue and assess the situation more levelly. 

“Yeah, is everything alright?” You smile wryly, hoping it comes across encouragingly, but your tiredness might have prevented that. 

“I uh... there’s this guy, he won’t leave me and my friends alone.” She rubs her arm, “You know, just being real creepy...” You nod, what a joy and sadly not an uncommon one. 

“Where are your friends?” You ask, looking at the young lass in front of you in increasing doubt that she should be here. 

She looked over her shoulder, “Over there, in the red.” she said, and you spotted the two girls she meant instantly, and nod, able to pick out the guy she was talking about who was hanging around these girls much too closely. “We’re uh...” she looked down, shame flickering on her face. “We’re minors, please don’t be mad at me, I just... we don’t want to be harassed.” 

You smile, remembering your similar youth, musing that fake IDs must be fairly fucking hard to find nowadays. And decided to take pity on the lass, it wasn’t nice to turf them out when the problem hadn't been their doing at all and to be frank, it’s above your pay grade, isn’t it? “I’m not going to throw you out, don’t worry... though you shouldn’t be here if you’re not 18.” 

You sigh, “I’ll get him to leave but promise me you’ll stick together with your mates, ay?” She nods and thanks you extensively before you wish her well and go to fulfil your promise. Silently noting to tell Ste the doorman that he needs to get a pissing eye test.

The problem man was a heavy-set guy with a beard and a clearly designer shirt. A complete stereotype that you knew already, would be trouble. You take a breath before going over, mentally doing the sign of the cross over yourself, not that you thought it would do anything, it was more for your own comedic enjoyment, but if a higher power should see it, that’d be nice. 

“Excuse me, sir.” You say, loud enough for the people around him to slowly start drifting away. As if sensing the unfolding scene the man looks at you with pre-emptive annoyance. 

“Yeah?” He says as rudely as you expected.

You sigh, trying to remain as diplomatic as possible. “Your behaviour towards the young girls here is untoward and we won’t tolerate that here. I'm going to have to ask you to leave.” 

'Ask’ is the customer service way of telling him to get the fuck out and his reaction suggests that he knew that. 

“Leave? I ain’t done nothing.” The question was asked loudly, trying to alert people around as to the perceived ridiculousness of what you were saying. Though the double negative hinted at him having done something, to say the least.

“That’s not what I’ve been told. Please leave, sir.” You repeat yourself, more authoritarian this time, your tone firm and leaning towards annoyance. It was embarrassing having to do this, but you knew that it was worth it to keep the girl you’d spoken to safe. The look on her face was enough to make you despise this man. 

“And what if I say no?” He stepped forward after he spoke, squaring up to you, trying his hand at the old intimidation game. And despite his height over you, you keep rooted, looking at him with daggers.  

“Sir. You’re embarrassing yourself.” You scoff, shaking your head. By this point that second-hand shame had caused the others nearby to either watch intently or move away. “A grown man having to be told to leave young lasses alone, for fuck sake.” Stepping forward yourself, you make your disgust visible. It had the opposite effect than intended and the man before you bubbled with rage. 

“What the fuck did you say to me, you little bitch?” 

“Stop being pathetic-” Your words of disbelief and amounting hatred were cut short when the huge bloke grabbed your arm bruisingly, wrenching you towards him. His larger stature allows him to manipulate your frame fairly easily.

William had a nose for trouble and as he stalked out from his office he caught sight of people leaving the main room. He shakes his head already annoyed at whatever he was to discover. Of all the things that he could have seen, an accident, injury etc... he didn't expect a man to be manhandling one of his employees. Least of all you. You who always smiled at him, even though it got nothing in return. You who shouted ‘afternoon!’ at him through his office door, often making him slosh coffee in surprise. You, who talked to him and engaged with him, unbothered by his reputation or generally unpleasant demeanour. How fucking dare someone put their hands on you. 

“Stupid fucking slag.” The man spat, it landed on your skin. 

“Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.” You manage, your teeth clenched as you clasped at straws to try and de-escalate this borderline assault, hoping he’d realise how far out of proportion he’d blown this. He didn’t. Instead, your words were petrol on a fire and the sharp ringing of a slap could be heard over the music. 

It was so harsh and crisp, for a moment you were dazed. The attack launches you into the difficult decision of fight or flight. It wasn’t the heat of the print on your face that made you react, however; it was the piggish sneer on his fucking face. 

Punching him hard, square in the nose, you feel the old familiar sensation of pain blooming through your hand. From the point of contact it fizzled like static down your knuckles and up your arm, though it barely hurt over the adrenaline coursing through your system. 

Your attack didn't deter him though, his grip on your arm not faltering even as the other rose to his face in shock. Taking your window of opportunity you strike him again, blood now pouring down his face, it provokes him to yank your arm straight, the grip blue pain on your flesh.

Powerless to do much else, you had to take his revenge, a punch that made you vision flicker, landing hard below your eye. Then another. You were reeling, your standing knocked with the strikes, it hurt but you burned with indignation that you were unable to hit this fucker again.

Straining to get away from the assault of raining blows, you grab his hair, pulling hard, the sensation of it lifting under your grip apparent in his grunt. It was then with a fist full of this cunt's hair that his grip on you failed. You look through blurred eyes to see your boss taking hold of him, pulling him by the shoulder into a balled fist.

The man wasn't going down easy, even though Afton got a strong hit on him, the man retaliated, striking back and you see the impact on your boss and his slight stumble, but it motivated him to take it to a new level. 

He grabbed the man's head, pulling his stance in half, doubled over and raised his knee repeatedly into his face. Not stopping until he was satisfied, then shoving the larger man to the floor, and kicking him hard in the stomach and teeth, to the point where the attackers' whimpers were beginning to subside. You watched pretty horrified whilst other staff tried to herd patrons away.

Yanking the man up by his collar hissed something inaudible for you to his ear, before punching him again, letting him fall back down.

He was pulled outside by William, the bouncers too shocked to intervene and you just followed the display stupidly. You had no idea this man was capable of such... violence. Cause that was no fight, it was violence.

Afton left the man flicking in and about of consciousness on the curb outside, spitting on him when he mumbled a lisped "fuck you" in his direction.

You were watching in awe, when all of a sudden he turned to you, his face bloody and a hesitation for pain in his jaw.

"Are you alright?" He questions.

You blink. "Yeah..."

"You're bleeding?" He points out as though you were much stupider than you are.

"I'm banged up, but alright." You say quickly, searching his eyes for any acknowledgement of what had just happened. You had a nagging feeling that he was about to shout at you, ask what the fuck that was about. Hell maybe even sack you for the beating he just took.

"Nowhere near as bad as you are." You follow up. And that was putting it lightly, it looked like his nose was broken and his jaw must hurt in some way for how he slowly shuffled it, waiting to find where the pain was.

He scoffs at you, instantly regretting it as blood begins trickling over his lip, you wince alongside him as he wipes it on the back of his hand. With a grunt he turns his back and heads back inside.

Taken aback at his nonchalance, you struggle to get the words out. "Where's the first aid?" You call after him, your question stopping him in his tracks.

“There’s one in my office if you need it.” He replies from over his shoulder, continuing to walk away. You throw a shrug and slightly surprised sigh in the direction of his retreating form, before hurrying to catch up with him. You’d laugh if your head wasn't fucking banging. 

Finally managing to reach him, you force your frame next to him on the corridor, walking side by side towards the back. 

“I don’t know if I need it... you need stitches or something though, mat- William.” 

“Says who?” His response is typically gruff and at this point you’re more than used to it. 

Managing a smirk through the high-pitched pain behind your eyes, you don't let his uncaring attitude deter you. “The cut above your brow. Practically screaming it.”

Letting you follow him, he pauses briefly. To be honest, the strike to the brow had wiped itself from his memory, which was not at all a good sign, but the second you pointed it out he became very aware of the crispening blood hindering any movement of his face. Fucking stitches? And what, you were gonna do that, were you? Just what he needed, a headache on top of the one he already had.

“Seriously, this is my fault. Let me help you out, least I can do.” 

“I’m fine, just need a drink... maybe a co-codamol.” He said not another word to you but made no effort to get you away from him and so you followed, half uncertain like a lost dog, all the way to his office at the back. 

The way he moved it was hard to keep up with him, his huge height gave him a stride and a half. But you get there finally, and he doesn't bother to hold his office door open for you, letting it nearly hit you as it swung closed. 

You survive and slip inside the office, just in time to see him slap the first aid kit on a table at the far side of the room. You go over to it and open it up, delighted to see that what once was a bottle of antiseptic was now half a thing of Dettol with a sewing kit beside it. Not a medical one, just your standard hotel one, with different coloured pieces of thread and a blunt looking needle. 

“I see why you said no to the stitches.” You grin, watching the man sit down heavily at the table. He attempted to rub the space between his eyebrows but had to abandon the gesture as it interfered with his injuries.  

“I told you.” He mumbles.

“Yeah well... Dettol will do something I guess.” You sit as well and start pouring the disinfectant on a cotton pad that you hope hadn’t been used before. 

Just as you move to dab it over the hardened gash, he pulls away suddenly, a pissed off look about him that you should have probably been intimidated by, but your reaction time is fucked by your headache.. 

“What the hell are you doing?” He speaks through his teeth, not at all happy with the sudden movement.

“Sorting out your split brow. I have said it a fair few times now, you’re starting to worry me.” You wait for him to start going in on you, shouting or whatever the fuck he’d normally do to anyone trying to be nice. But he doesn’t say anything else. Just looks at you, the annoyed expression unmoving.

Over the past month or so he’d become quite used to your... demeanour. You didn’t offer any tact towards him, or just keep your head down like others. You took the opposite route, always had something to fucking say, some comment to make. It had grated on him, but he didn’t mind it really, though you weren’t going to get special treatment just because you don't know when to shut your damn mouth. 

“So...” You prompt, shaking the cotton bud in front of him.

He didn’t dignify you with a response, just a swift nod.

“This is gonna sting, just don’t move so I don’t get it in your eye.” You warn whilst getting closer, it was quite unnerving to be this close to him, god’s sake you could hear him breathing.

As you pressed the fabric against his cut, he didn’t flinch like you would have expected, just remained reticent and staring forward. Though he let himself glance at you, noting how far you had to lean to reach him. God you were small, much too small to have been wailed on by a massive fuck like that. Being honest, he was surprised you were still standing. 

He surprises himself by breaking the silence. “... Dettol doesn’t sting... better than antiseptic.” 

A smirk finds itself on your face, “Had a lot of experience then?” That isn’t shocking news, there was something practised about the way he took down that man.

A small sound leaves him and you almost stop your action. This man can laugh? Could have fooled you. “You could say that. Don’t often get the shit beaten out of me though.” 

Disbelief washes over you. “The shit beaten outta you?” You scoff. “You’re fine.” You blink a little. This was the textbook definition of ‘you should see the other guy’. Seriously, he couldn’t walk and was barely conscious. This cunt? Pretty much fine, minus a few scratches. 

Once you’re done with disinfectant you rifle through the box looking for something better than the sewing kit. A plaster probably wouldn’t cut it, in an ideal world he should probably be in A&E. But eventually you get your hands on a pack of steri strips and right now they look better than gold. “Here, I don’t even have to mutilate you with the needle.” You grin and it earns a small lip twitch from your would-be pin cushion. 

As you lean forward with the strips in hand, he doesn’t flinch from you even though it hurts to fuck when you push the cut closed to seal it. He notices as you're patching him up that your hand is covered in blood, it could be the bloke's at first glance but your knuckles look bust and there's a stiffness to your movement. 

You finish up with the gash and step back a bit, smirking, it’s a fine job you’ve done there. 

“Thanks.” He offers, just as plainly as you’ve come to expect. It makes you halt a second though, his pronunciation was off, so maybe he wasn’t as fine as you initially thought. Leaning forward, you go to investigate but he pulls himself from your grip. 

“Leave it, it's fine...” It started sharp, but softened a bit as he caught sight of your arm. Holy shit. That was a number alright. Clearly already bruised from that dickhead’s hold, there were three distinct scratches down the length of your forearm where the man had evidently tried to hold on to you as he’d yanked him away, that explains the stiffness. 

Looking at him you try to figure out what isn't right and eventually you settle on: "I think your nose is broken."

He reaches up himself, feeling along the bridge of his nose, the scowl on his face telling. "It isn’t." He concludes, briefly thinking ‘somehow’. With that, you start putting the medical stuff back in the box, just ignoring his curtness. You'd done your bit and patched him up, clearly your kindness was too much for him, so off you fucking pop, sheesh.

You hardly even get the equipment back in the box before Afton reaches forward and slides everything out of your grasp. Instinctively your brows raise, unsure of why he did that. “Are we not done?” You ask, uncertainly, maybe this is the part where he bollocks you. 

“Sit down. Your arm needs sorting.” His words aren’t a suggestion. You look down to see what he’s talking about and wince at the sight; how hadn’t you noticed the scratches? They look awful, not that deep but plain ugly and sore now you come to think of it. 

“Shit.” You say in your observation, slowly sitting whilst still watching your arm. So wrapped up in this new discovery that you jump when he reaches forward to grab your wrist, his big hands wrap all the way around it easily, man, this is a scary bloke. He pulls your arm slowly in front of him, not gently but certainly more understanding than you would have expected. 

“I don’t even know how he done that.” You fill the silence, thinking aloud. 

“Rings.” He answers, with a but too much knowledge, “Must have a fair bit of your arm stuck under them.” You almost laugh, but the visual is too grim and likely accurate. Looking up at him you see clear amusement on his face. 

The Dettol is again brought out and when he dabs it too your scratches a cold pain reaches all the way up your arm, making you suck in through your teeth. He glances up at you and all you can say is. “You’re a fucking liar. That stings like hell.” 

The man in front of you grins then, a starling crooked smirk that almost makes him look like a different bloke. It’s a handsome expression that’s made slightly menacing by a missing tooth after his canine above two silver ones. You think to yourself that this man has taken a lot of fucking beatings.

Through his grin, William says, “It’s not that bad.” 

“Yeah alright, tough guy.” You dismiss him, trying to ignore that ache in your arm that makes you want to grind your teeth. 

He looks back down to his task and the unusual expression remains on his face somewhat involuntarily. You notice and soon you’re smiling too, unable to help it, maybe the whole shitshow was catching up to you now, fisticuffs with a man well outside your weight class, only to be ‘rescued’ by your stoic, unnerving boss; and to top off the day of the unexpected, you made the fucker smile. Quite the day.

“So you can smile then?” You ask coyly, it’s a little victory that shows you’re successful chipping away at his frosty exterior, he’ll be a mate eventually. 

He looks up at you quickly, his eyes narrow in that scrutinising way everyone who works here is accustomed to. But where an icy glare would usually have been a cocky, “Must be the head injury.” was. 

~

You’re patched up pretty quickly, the cleaning of the wound taking half as much time as the debate about whether or not you need a bandage. You said it would be fine. He argues it’s necessity. And despite your assurance you’re now standing at his office door with a bandage tightly wrapped around your arm. You notice that the second the door was opened you could hear the dull thud of music, escaping the club and plaguing the managers too; good, you think. 

He follows you out of the room, the two of you must look like a right pair, both beaten to shit. Looking in the reflection of the window to the office confirms as much, you’ve a nasty bruise under your eye, and a swelling that would probably make it difficult to open your eye in the morning. You’ve been in this situation before. As has he. 

There in the narrow hallway you look up at him, feeling confronted by the height difference, now so obvious when you’re both standing. “Thank you for that.” You give him a genuine expression, really meaning it, even though your arm hurts more now than it did before. 

“I only returned the favour.” He answers, pausing for a moment whilst he checks his watch. “You should go home. Obviously you’ll be paid for the whole shift.” He adds the last part as if he thought you’d object, there must have been something about your face that said you might. 

“Yeah, okay.” You smile a little, before you remember that he’s well more banged up than you, his shirt is covered in the blood to prove it, if you get leave surely he should as well. “Are you going-” You begin to ask, but the door to the club opens and a man bursting through it cuts you off. 

“What the fuck?!” Henry’s voice was bordering on hysterical, cutting shrill above the buzz of music and you don’t have to look to see eye rolling of your other boss. “William, tell me why the hell I’ve got 14 missed calls and a voicemail saying all shit has hit the fan?!” You stand awkwardly as Henry comes up to the both of you, there’s daggers in his eyes that are reserved purely for Afton. 

“Easy, you’re a bit late with all this cavalry shit.” William snaps, his head is throbbing too much to deal with the headache that is his co-worker. “There was an incident, some silly fucker got violent. He’s been sorted.” You try not to grin at that, ‘sorted’, that’s one way to put it. 

“So have you, by the looks of it. I swear to God, William, if this bites me in the arse, you’ll look worse than that.” Everyone standing there knows that that’s an empty threat, not that Henry wasn't capable of it, but rather that William towers over him. That seems to resonate with the instigator when he locks eyes with William’s uncaring and hard expression, so Henry moves on. 

“Are you alright, darling?” He asks his voice now sugary, all his attention is on you, as well as a hand on your shoulder. 

“Yeah. Just a few scrapes, I’ll live.” You keep all traces of amusement from your face, even as he begins to walk you out of the club in the direction of the car he thought you had, talking to you like you're a kid the whole way.

[justalittlesolarpunk]

Hiya! Hope it’s okay to ask, but what were your kind of first steps to living in a more solar punk way?

Hi! Absolutely ok to ask, I love talking to people about this.

I can probably date my Solarpunk awakening, if you want to use the term, to a variety of points, but in the past few years due to both growing eco-anxiety and a new connection with nature (moved out of the city into the country) I became more concerned with the environment and this led me to give up flying and start educating myself on solarpunk topics through books and podcasts. Living with my parents, who have more disposable income than me, helped me see what it was like to be able to purchase organic and plastic-free food. Living rurally meant we got to know our neighbours. When our house flooded, they were the ones bailing it out with buckets beside us at 1am, up to our ankles in cold, dirty water. I learned a lot about community. I started foraging for snacks and treats (hello blackberries are delicious). I got interested in the ecological elements of paganism.

Later on I started incorporating more plant-rich food into my diet and getting interested in slow travel, rewilding, urban planning, etc. Then I started going to XR meetings, which led me to getting involved in (non-arrestable in my case) direct action. I joined some gardening volunteers which encouraged me to start trying to grow my own food at home. I decided to commit to not learning to drive or owning a car.

However, I’d actually say I’d been doing solarpunk stuff earlier than this without knowing it - seeking out positive news stories, attending protests, organising in my community (I was active in my school’s LGBT scene and ran several campaigns about it at uni), learning about indigenous cultures, telling stories. All of these things are solarpunk too.

But the single biggest thing that has helped me to be more solarpunk is changing the way I see the world, and for this the writings of Robin Wall Kimmerer have been hugely influential, along with a bunch of different writers that I can’t list all of here. But unlearning the idea that I am alone in a lifeless inanimate world has been HUGE for me. Today I thanked every element that made up my meal, from the rice in my noodles to mycoprotein that grew my meat substitute to the soybeans that made the sauce, the steel in my pan and the sunlight that powered the electricity that heated my induction hob. I walked along a river and said hello to geese. I noticed each plant and knew the names of many of them. I called my grandmother and tried to really listen as she narrated her experiences of the day to me, even though she can be difficult. Relationality has been the greatest aspect of my solarpunk work, learning to see myself as utterly interconnected with everything and everyone else, to remember that my very atoms were once compressed together with all the other atoms when this expanding universe first began. So a lot of it is about changing your thoughts, though it should also be backed up by action too.

Hope some of this helps!

[kriffingmeshla]

To Build a Home

Summary : Post Order 66, Hunter x Jedi ! Reader, established relationship, reader is part of TBB's whole found family thing.

Before Order 66, meditating with your fellow Jedi had always brought warmth, comfort and peace. Now, when all of the people you grew up and fought with are gone, meditation felt cruel and torturous. Hunter doesn't know the first thing about Jedi, but hell if he won't try his best to bring you any peace he can.

Warnings : Grief and loss (Order 66 related), doom 'n gloom, enough hurt-comfort for a lifetime, Hunter would literally die for his found family. Who actually proof reads? I really hope this shows up in the tags :')

During your Padawan years, your Master had fondly chastised you time and time again over your relentless urge to sneak away and gaze at the stars, yet even then he would make no move to get you inside. Instead, your Master would sit at your side and relish the moment with you, turning your adventures into what eventually became routine meditation practice.

Then, after your Master's passing, your friends and fellow Padawans took his place, sitting wordlessly in the temple gardens with you night after night, the stars blanketing you all. Naturally, you had become used to meditating with others, bonding and feeling safe and protected with your force signatures intertwined. So when the end came, when the galaxy turned on the Jedi Order and culled your friends, your family, meditation had never quite been the same.

Where there was once the warmth of the embrace of your peers' force signatures there now remained only cold, desolate emptiness. No more Jedi, no more community, just you and the infinite sky above. Isolation.

Of course, you had a new family to rely on during the daylight. The Bad Batch had carried out mission after mission with you and Anakin before Order 66, so naturally they were fast to take you in and make you one of their own when you were at your most vulnerable, a whole army against you.

Over the months you had built up an even more unbreakable bond with the members of Clone Force 99. One member in particular had built a connection so pure with you that you had eventually been unable to resist, sharing your souls and hearts with each other.

Hunter had always been so gentle with you, had taken the time to get to know every part of you - what made you laugh, cry, fluster. He wanted to know it all, and in turn he shared his own weaknesses with you.

So, unsurprisingly, your Sergeant had come to be able to read you like a book. In short, this meant that you couldn't hide a thing from him, so when he noticed you seeming more drained and hollow as of late he didn't even give you the chance to make an excuse.

"Cyare, come on now," he spoke so softly, voice scraping the bottom of his range. "Tell me what's got you all distressed, mm?"

Hunter had cornered you in your shared room on the Marauder while the rest of the Batch were in the cockpit.

Sighing in defeat at being caught, you dropped to sit on your cot, avoiding Hunter's gaze. Ever so carefully, not wanting to scare you off, he seated himself at your side. His gloved hand worked its way up to your jaw, gently tilting your head up and toward him.

"You know you can tell me anything, don't you?" For being such an intimidating fighter Hunter could be so soft with you behind closed doors. How could you possibly lie to him.

"I just- I've been trying to-" you huffed, looking for the words to explain it. Your brows must have furrowed, because Hunter's thumb slipped from your jaw to your forehead, smoothing the frustration away.

" 'S okay, take your time to think, cyar'ika."

Soothed by his reassurance, you took a few deep breaths and started over.

"Back at the Temple, or even on missions and just- all the time. We meditated, the Jedi I mean. We were taught to do it ever since we were brought to the Temple as younglings, sort of like an induction to the Order. It was the most important thing to the Jedi. We all used to sit together under the stars, both as kids and right before everything went to hell. It was sort of a tradition, I guess. Anyway- I, I've been trying to do it again recently - keeps me grounded if that makes sense. It's peaceful. Or it used to be. Every time I try now it just hammers in the fact that they're all gone. My friends, the Jedi, everything. Doesn't work the same if it's just me. I just feel so... wound up. It's all getting to be too much, and without the ability to destress by meditating I'm almost becoming disconnected from the force. I haven't truly felt it since before Order 66. I just feel sort of drained."

You already felt some of the tension melt off of you from finally speaking your problems out loud. Hunter would always be there to listen to you, you knew that, but isolating yourself when you were worried had become a bad and unavoidable habit.

Hunter called your name, his voice so incredibly tender. It made you break out of your trance, becoming aware that you had been staring down at your feet while you rambled. Your eyes went wide, snapping up to Hunter's in fear of having overdone it. Instead, when your eyes met his, you saw no judgement, only sympathy and understanding.

"Oh, Love. I'm so sorry," He shuffled closer, enveloping your clenched fist in his large hand. "Look, I uh- I can't pretend I know the first thing about the Jedi and how you meditate, but - if it helps - I'd like to try. With you, I mean. I know I'm not Jedi, but maybe my being with you would help ease your loneliness if only a little. Enough to do your meditation."

As your eyes began to swell and spill with tears, Hunter panicked, thinking it was his words that had upset you.

"Oh kriff, no don't cry. Hey I'm sorry, forget I said anything. I shouldn't have tried to interfere in your Jedi stuff-" he blurted out, speaking faster than his brain could think.

"No, Hunter, no," you choked out, a trembling and watery smile pulling at your lips. He only looked more confused now, like a tooka in headlights. You laughed wetly. "I- I'd love that. Really. I just never thought you'd be willing."

Hunter sighed in relief, shoulders drooping. He lifted his hands to rest on each of your shoulders, lowering his face to meet yours.

"I'm always willing. You don't need to be afraid of asking me anything, you hear me? I'm yours, Cyare, and I hate seeing you like this. If there's anything in the galaxy that will make you feel better then I'm ready."

You let out a shaky breath, more tears escaping down your cheeks at Hunter's tenderness. Keeping his hands at your shoulders, Hunter tilted his head into yours, keeping you steadily against him in a keldabe kiss. You dug your fingers behind his breastplate, knuckles taut. Nodding against his forehead you inhaled and steadied yourself.

"Thank you. Yes I'd- thank you, Hunter."

"Always," he whispered, sealing gap between his and your lips, melting into you so sweetly. "I love you, cyar'ika. I always will. I'm here for you."

"Tonight then," you suggested. "When the stars come out."

"That's a promise," he agreed.

When the sun finally retired for the day and darkness engulfed the planet, you and Hunter slipped out the Marauder, hand in hand.

"So," he began, fingers intertwined with yours. "How's this work, huh?"

"C'mere," you replied, smiling fondly at your love and tugging him to a hilltop tree nearby.

You finally freed his hand as you lowered yourself to sit cross legged in the cool grass beneath the trunk, waiting for him to join you. No questions asked, Hunter sank to his knees at your side, crossing his legs just like yours. You moved a hand to rest on his knee, immediately feeling the warmth of his force signature flowing through your veins.

"Oh," you gasped.

"Everything alright?" he asked, concern lighting his eyes.

"It's- oh, Hunter, you were right. I- can feel the force again, I can feel your presence, it's - thank you, Hunter."

He smiled, briefly taking your hand from his knee to lift it to his lips so he could dust kisses across your knuckles. Letting it drop back to his knee, Hunter shuffled slightly to get comfortable.

"Right then," he grinned, "you gonna show me how to meditate or what."

You laughed, squeezing his kneecap then turning away from him, closing your eyes.

You took time to inhale and exhale deeply, trying not to crack up at Hunter copying your actions by your side. You couldn't wipe the peaceful smile from your face if you tried.

Letting your mind drift, you finally felt that welcoming tug of the force after such a long time, and you let it drown you. Everything felt warm and safe, your heart squeezing, muscles shivering then smoothing out. Wanting to show Hunter just how grateful you were, you used every last ounce of your energy to channel your feelings through the force and into him. You heard him gasp, his enhanced senses increasing the sensations tenfold.

"Oh," he breathed, understanding heavy in his voice.

You felt the peace and happiness radiating from his force signature as you entwined it with yours, knowing without looking that Hunter had become almost boneless with bliss.

And under the stars that night, you and Hunter began your brand new ritual, two presences in the force becoming one.

[amjustagirl]

when the sun meets the moon outtakes: in which Bokuto adopts a dog

pairing: bokuto koutaro x f! reader

genre: romance, family fluff

wc: 900

a/n: as the name suggests, an outtake from my fic when the sun meets the moon.

Bokuto Koutaro is a kind man with a good heart. 

You grew up experiencing crudeness and petty meanness and you’ve grown jaded, expecting nothing more of people, but ever since Bokuto came into your life, he’s made you believe that there is kindness and goodness in the world, if only you stop to look. And so you fell in love with him, your sunshine boy with a heart of pure gold, got married after he proposed to you in front of thousands of volleyball fans, popped out three gorgeous sons.

“A wolfpack”, Kiyoomi names your little Kous, his lips tilting upwards when he’s called in as reinforcement by Hinata when Bokuto brings them into practice . You think the name quite fitting considering the way they boisterously roll around with their father and find themself in mischief in a myriad of ways, though you suspect Kiyoomi’s opinion of said wolfpack nosedives dramatically after his daughter is inducted as an honourary member with a ridiculous ritual involving a homemade obstacle course in his living room, aided and abetted by Koutarou himself. 

In this instance, however, Sachiko is very much the instigator of mischief. 

You should’ve noticed something was off when she yelled a panicked “bye auntie!” and bounced past you at breakneck speed to get out of your front door. 

“Huh”, you say. “How strange.”

What’s even stranger is that none of your sons come out to greet you. Usually they’d be racing to see who reaches her first when she gets home from a long day of work, the winner celebrating by leaping into your arms (and oftentimes knocking you flat onto the floor). What’s a hundred million billion times stranger (Kousuke’s words, not hers, he’s started learning bigger numbers at school) is that Koutaro himself isn’t coming out to wrap you in his arms with a bear hug, peppering you with questions about your day. 

“Kou?” you call. Usually that’s enough to get all four of them running, but not today. 

You slip off your shoes. There’s a suspicious looking packet by the dining table that catches your eye. A happy looking dog in bright colours on the front of the packet is all you need to know. 

Leaving on your socks to dampen your footsteps, you press your ear to your sons’ bedroom. 

“Hide him in the wardrobe ‘til okaa-san sits down for dinner!”

“He’s not going to stay in the wardrobe for a whole hour?!” 

“How d’you even know it’s a he? Sachiko said it might be a she!” 

You throw open the door. Four faces turn to look at you, three a picture of practised innocence, your husband alone looking guilty. 

“Is there something I should know about?” you ask. 

“Nothing!” your sons shout in perfect synchrony. Bokuto stares at the floor. You can almost see his ears droop. 

You take pity on him, striding over to throw open the wardrobe. A puppy with yellow fur and a stub for a tail stares woefully at you. You resist the urge to drop to your knees and squeal at its utter cuteness. 

“And what do we have here?” you do your best at trying to sound stern. 

Finally, your husband speaks up. “Babyyy”, he tries pleading, though he stops short as you raise an eyebrow. “The kids found this poor little thing in the drain and it looked so cold and hungry I said we should take it home and take care of it ‘til it’s okay.” 

Your boys sense a moment of weakness. 

“‘Kaa-sannn it was shivering” Kouji does his best attempt at pouting pitifully. 

“And it was raining”, Kouichi reasons. “We couldn’t leave it there! It’d be sad!”

Kousuke, your youngest, rounds up the rear with his most devastating weapon, puppy dog eyes of his own. “Kaa-san pleaseeee can we keep it?”

“Fine”, you sigh, making a show of exasperation because your boys, if left unchecked, would bring every pitiful critter and being under your roof and you have no desire for your home to turn into a menagerie. “We’ll take it to the vet on the weekend, and discuss if we can keep it if it isn’t microchipped okay?” 

Cheering, your boys run out of their bedroom to acquaint the puppy to its new home. 

You turn your attention to Bokuto. “Kou”, you start to say, but he’s already hugging you close. 

“Sorry”, he chuckles. “I know I should’ve talked to you first about it.”

You poke his chest. “Sometimes, I wonder how that big heart of yours fits into your chest.” 

“I’m sorry -” 

“Don’t be”, you smile. “That’s why I love you.”

He presses kisses into the crown of your head. 

“That doesn’t mean you’re getting out of teaching the boys how to be responsible for our newest family member though. 

“Oh no”, he groans.

Your smile widens into a mischievous grin. “Oh yes”, you say. “That includes walks and cleaning up after accidents and scheduling mealtimes and all of that. I suppose it’ll teach them how to be responsible at the very least.”

His mouth curls up in a matching grin. “I guess that also means Omi-omi’s got some responsibilities too since Sachiko-chan said she has a quarter-share in our pup!” 

You expect another irate call from Sakusa Kiyoomi tomorrow. It’s okay, you’ll divert his calls to your irrepressible husband anyway. 

[january-summers]

Just thinking about some stuff, whole train-of-thought re: Wash's induction into PFL, (and the idea that it would be hilarious if he was actually one of the first Freelancers selected for the project despite being considered by the others to be a rookie) and it sort of spiraled back into the idea that he and Ohio (Vera) worked together pre-PFL.

Cause like, Wash had to have done at least 7* years in the military, he reached at least corporal (I've seen a head-canon he might have even been a sergeant on his way to staff sergeant but got demoted as part of his court-martial and I'm here for that tbh) and as a corporal he would have been a team leader for a small team, or at least he would be cleared to act in that capacity. (UNICOM Corporal: Enlisted Officer 4th rank - Typical Responsibilities: Fireteam leader)

(*IRL court-martials can come with prison time, so Wash might have been in prison for 'a little while' before PFL, then released with just enough time to realise how hard it would be to get back in the fight before PFL “conveniently” came along with a job offer, or they offered to broker a deal to keep him out of prison if he worked for them instead. If he was discharged right before being recruited and he was recruited at the start of the recruitment period he actually would have been in the military for 9 years at least, which I think we all know by this point?)

Anyway, I'm just picturing rookie!Vera has been assigned to David's team (and yes, as always I'm secretly running “his last name starts with 'C' and his 'call sign' was D.C.” head-canons) and she's not fresh from an academy new, but D.C.'s team is the elite in their field type team, so she's still out of her depth a bit.

Naturally, Military Intelligence has proven to be an oxymoron still, and bad intel has them all in over their heads. The team gets split as they're trying to wipe out a target via ground assault. D.C. takes a flash-bang (or alien equivalent) basically to the face and ends up blind (temporarily) so he's out there with a makeshift blindfold wrapped around his head to stop his eyes taking any more radiant damage and letting Vera steer them through the unfriendly terrain.

And Vera would really like to go home but they still have a job to do, especially if they're the only ones left, so she and D.C. stealth their way to their objective, but they run into a problem, a small covie strike team, and Vera doesn't know how they manage to take them out between her and her currently blind commanding officer, but they do, except for one, who makes a run for it back towards the covie base to tattle on them after the radio gets wiped out.

The covie is way too far ahead of them, they'll never catch up, and they're running out of time before it alerts the base, Vera doesn't know what to do, but D.C. tells her she has to use the sniper and take the shot herself.

“Can-can't you do it?”

“Literally blind kid.”

“Right. … shit.”

“Yep.”

“Okay, okay, I can do this, I can totally do this.”

And Vera fumbles the sniper into position and freezes. She can't do this, holy shit, holy shit, holy shit, and the covie bastard is running fucking serpentine!

And then D.C.'s hand is on her back and he's telling her to breathe with him.

“You know where he's running too, look at the ground, he can't stack it now, he'll take the easiest path, that's how he's going to move, aim, lead the target for distance and speed, take the shot. You can do this, look how well you've already done while lugging my blind ass around, you have the potential, the skills, the training. Breathe. Aim. Lead. Take the shot.”

For three long seconds after she shoots, Vera worries she's hyperventilated herself high and imagined landing the shot that turned the covie's head into confetti.

It was an improbably shot and she'd landed it.

"Holy shit did you fucking see that? I mean, uh... sir? boss? -"

"Nope, still blind :) and you know what, you can just call me David; David's fine."

They finish the mission and rejoin the rest of the team, complete success thanks to their maintained stealth.

A few years later, Agent Washington will point to that shot as proof Vera has what it takes to be a Freelancer when he's asked for his opinions on some potential recruits.

It's the reason Wash was the last to know the Triplets were gone. If he'd heard it from on-high, he would have known something sus had gone down, and his penchant for breathtakingly vicious revenge would have endangered Price. Instead, hearing it fifth hand, Wash was left believing Vera had dropped out without telling him because he'd somehow made her think he'd be ashamed of her, and what kind of bastard was he, that she didn't think she could come to him with her worries, that she'd leave without leaving. Did she know he'd put her name forward, did she blame him?

[readychilledwine]

Hi girl!! I don't know how to say this, but I love your writing and your sooo creative. I just wanted to say, im giving birth in a couple of weeks and it just hit me that I'm going to have a KID, LIKE WTH??? I did my research so there's nothing to worry about and I'm financially stable, its just, WEIRD??? I'm going to pop a baby out??please give some advice bc my hubby seems really cool about it and I'm just WHAT??😭

Trigger warnings- baby, mom life, and labor talk. Super long post 💕

✨️Congratulations to both of you and welcome to the hot moms club✨️

I went through an induction that turned into an emergency c section, so keep that in mind when reading my advice since I am not sure what form of labor you are opting for.

During Labor/Your hospital stay:

Bring a comfort idea to the hospital for before "active" labor and after. I brought my own pillow, and that made a world of difference. It was nice having something so familiar afterwards.

Don't eat anything you don't want to risk coming back up. Some hospitals will allow you to eat. Try to stick to the ice, juice, jello, or pudding. Italian shaved ice was also an option for me. And do bring snackies for after. You deserve it.

Don't panic if your birth plan does not turn out to be how birthing goes. I had planned on natural labor, no pain medication. I went in to be induced at 9pm December 13, by 2am I was in a lot of pain, by 7am I had an epidural.

Not to scare you, but the epidural can cause a few different reactions. Don't let that stop you from getting it. You HAVE to allow yourself to be as comfortable as possible, and your birth team will handle whatever curves are thrown their way.

If you are physically able to, do golden hour. In case it is called something different for you, golden hour is a full hour where the nursing staff leaves you and baby alone for skin to skin and nursing time. Tell your man I'm sorry, but he can wait. That hour is essential for building breastmilk supply if you're going to be EBF or EP. He can have baby after.

And let him have baby after. Daddy needs his own hour where baby is getting skin to skin with him.

It's going to be hard, but try not be mad if baby daddy sleeps after labor. He's going to have spent the last how ever long you were in labor in a heightened state of fight or flight because the woman he loves is in pain and there is nothing he can do for you. It's painful and all the exhausting for us. It's mentally and emotionally exhausting for them.

Do not (under any circumstances) let them force you into handling feedings one way or the other. Fed is best. Period.

Do not allow them to force you to have a nurse who makes you uncomfortable in any way. I know it's hard, but if a nurse is making you feel like you aren't doing enough, aren't listening to them, are making a wrong choice, ASK FOR A NEW NURSE. They should be supporting you.

If you're at a hospital where mom and baby sleep in one room, don't hesitate to say yes if a nurse asks if you want baby to go to nursery for a little bit. You both will need sleep. You deserve sleep. That nap will be precious. Trust me.

For home:

During bathing, try a swaddle method. It uses two towels, but it helps baby feel safe and secure. Here's a little link to an article about them

Take. Time. With. No. Visitors. You and baby daddy deserve time to adapt to your LO. It's a totally different ball game. We had 2 weeks alone. 2 weeks with just our parents. 2 weeks with our siblings. Then we opened the house to visitors who messaged us first.

Establish boundaries from jump. I made a post about on SM with a picture of our boundaries. Baby daddy enforced it.

Enjoy those 2am cuddles. They go away so fast 🥺

If you do not mentally feel okay, tell people you trust. Immediately. PPD/PPA can quickly become postpartum psychosis when left untreated.

Remember you're gorgeous. Even if you don't feel that way. You literally grew a human. It is the most selfless thing you could do for your family, and in my opinion, the closest thing to magic.

Remember to be kind to yourself and baby daddy. You're both learning. It's hard. So hard.

Never feel guilty for a few minutes of screen time. Sophia gets about 30 minutes a week spread out throughout the week. Ms. Rachel is a great help.

From my baby daddy to yours

Get her the food she's been craving that she "can't have" which also meant you couldn't have it for her first post labor meal. Lizzy wanted sushi. Baby momma got her sushi.

Take pictures of her with your kid. Constantly without her knowing. Those pictures will get you through the work day.

Get up with her at night. We helped make the baby. We help with the baby.

No yelling. No fighting. I said one thing to Lizzy I regret deeply, and I don't know if she's genuinely forgiven me for it. This is hard on your baby momma. If she needs to vent. Let her. Don't fight her. Just get her down for a nap, man. That's all you can do sometimes.

Never tell her to sleep when the munchkin sleeps. That statement is the most unhelpful thing anyone said to Lizzy. Tell her instead to lay down and try to get some sleep, and you will listen for crying. She needs the comfort of knowing someone else is there.

Don't allow anyone to shame her for anything. I learned I will throw hands over someone shaming Lizzy. Luckily, it was with my brother. We're good now.

Make sure she gets to shower every day.

Love her. Love her and look out for any signs of her not being okay. Lizzy's was staring off into nothing and crying way too much.

Make sure you schedule time for both of you to get away and let her enjoy said time.

Skin to skin. Daily.

Lastly, get her a pump if she's breastfeeding. Trust me. It will help build supply, and it allows you to feed the little one.

If you two need ANYTHING, message me. I don't have all the answers, but I might have advice. 💕

Here's a few products we love for Sophia, too. Some of them are pricy. We apologize.

Dreamland weighted Swaddle

Diaper cream spatula

Calmoseptine Ointment

Bums and Roses - softest pj's ever and you can get matching ones.

Momcozy nail file

Lizzy's favorite stationary pump*

Lizzys favorite on the go/work pump*

The bottles baby daddy uses to feed Sophia sometimes

*check to see if insurance will help*

Overall, just enjoy your time together and your sweet little baby.💕💕

Ps- thank you for the compliments! I was so excited to give advice I almost brushed over them 🥺

[five-rivers]

Ancestral Chapter 17

Written for day 1 of Ectoberhaunt's isekai weekend! Ignore how far past midnight we are, okay?

.

Sleep all too often came with dreams.  That was probably why none of them had really wanted to go to bed.  

Along with the anxiety, the revelations, the threat to all of their lives, etcetera, etcetera.  No one was really counting all that.  Much.  

Danny dreamed.  He knew he dreamed.  

Well.  Sort of.  This was really more of a nightmare.  Even though nothing bad had happened yet, the whole atmosphere of the classroom was steeped in unease and tension.  

"Ryv is one of the few Avlynyse words borrowed directly from French, without first passing through English," said Mr. Lancer, as he wrote on the board in Esperanto.  "Most likely due to the popularity of Marie Thérèse of France, who married Prince Alyn, later King Alyn, in sixteen eighty-eight pursuant to the agreement of marriage negotiated when she was five between her father, the Sun King, and Dr. Kahysy Wyrtmyn Royne Tyronoé, when the later saved her from dying of consumption.  Yes, Mr. Fenton, this will be on the test.”

“I didn’t say anything,” said Danny.  

“Queen Marie Thérèse was often quoted as saying ‘Parfois, j’ai l’impression que ma vie ici n’est qu’un beau rêve’ or ‘Sometimes I feel as if my life here is nothing but a beautiful dream.’”

“You don’t even speak French,” said Danny, despairingly.  

“Compare and contrast ryv with the thirteen other common Avlynyse terms for dream, such as ayslyn, traym, and revo.”

“That last one isn’t even Avlynyse,” protested Danny.  “It’s Esperanto.  You’re writing in Esperanto.  I don’t think you know that, either.”

“Compare and contrast King Georg Gyvry’s attempts to acquire royal spouses for his children, thereby securing alliances and diplomatic ties, with Queen Arynryd’s foundation of the School of Heroes.”

Danny stood up.  He couldn’t take any more of this.  He felt like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, and all that was happening was Mr. Lancer giving a lecture on Avlynyse history.  And getting things wrong, but that wasn’t really relevant.  

“Mr. Fenton, this will be on the test.”

“What test?” asked Danny.  “This is a dream.”

“But you have to pass,” said Mr. Lancer, not looking away from the blackboard.  “You have to pass.  This will be on the trial.”

“What?” asked Danny, unable to help himself.  

“You have to pass the Trials.  Dr. Kahysy Wyrtmyn Royne Tyronoé was born in Royn on the Island of Tyrono, to the herbalists Byryta and Yud Wyrtmyn, also of Royn.  He was later sponsored by a client of theirs, Dr. Uwyn Font, to attend Argyntyn College.  While there, his ideas were instrumental to the resolution of the sixteen sixty-nine Argyntyn Cholera epidemic, and he was inducted to the School of Heroes.”

Danny turned away.  He already knew all of this.  Except where it was wrong, which was annoying.  He hated it when his dreams were wrong, especially when they’d be so interesting otherwise.  Like, one time, he’d had a dream about Jupiter, but it was way too close to Earth, and there was just no way the GAV could fly up there that fast, so, there.

Behind him, Mr. Lancer - that is, dream Mr. Lancer - had stopped speaking.  Danny felt certain that if he were to turn around now, Mr. Lancer wouldn’t even be there.  No.  He’d be replaced by something much worse.  Something terrible.  

He hunched his shoulders and covered his face, then froze as his fingers encountered something around his eyes.  The mask he’d worn the previous night, for the Moon Masque.  Had he even brought it home, after everything?  He didn’t remember.  He had been given back his not-so-ceremonial knife, and it was resting on his bedside table.  His fingers itched for it now.  Normal weapons, even Danny’s normal weapons, wouldn’t do anything against what loomed behind him, but maybe that would.  It had already banished one monster.  

There was only so long he could delay.  He turned.  The tunnel was long and dark, with no forks or turns.  He walked.  Fire and flowers licked from the walls, horribly red, ready to burn, ready to bleed, but did nothing to provide light.  

There was an end.  It was covered in metal instead of stone.  Dull green lines traced between metal panels and wires sprawled loosely over the floor.  He put his hand against the wall as he walked.  If he was right, this was where he would slip–

–click.

Remembered agony shot through his bones and heart and brain and he spasmed.  Through the green he could see Jazz.  Leo.  George.  Iris.  Vivian.  Lewis.  Matthew.  Joanna.  Grandpa Alfred.  Martin.  William.  Aunt Alicia.  Great Aunt Isabella.  Great Uncle Theodore.  

All of them dying.  All of them screaming, dying, melting.  

There was a sensation of cold in his chest and he choked himself awake, his ghost sense slipping past his lips.  He reached for the dagger instinctively, ready to fight.

“Fryth, myne yfyor.  Peace, Danny.  Dreams, only, have troubled you.”  

“Danny?” said Jazz, blearily, from the other side of the large bed.  “What’s wrong?”

“Um,” said Danny, staring.  Gwensyvyr had her hand phased partway into his shoulder, and that was clearly what had triggered his ghost sense and woken him up.  But, more importantly…  “You talked!”

“Yeah?” said Jazz, who was still not entirely awake.  

“Yes,” said Gwensyvyr at the same time.  “Although it would, ah, appear that you, only, can hear me.”  Her accent was strange and heavy, but still familiar and homey in a way Danny couldn’t properly identify.  

“Danny?” said Jazz, again.  “Did you have a nightmare or something?”

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “Yeah, I, um, nightmare.  Portals and murder plots, you know?  Ah.  Ha.”

Jazz was sitting up, now, and peering at the clock.  “It’s two,” she said, making a face.  “The sun was just barely up… What’s that at this latitude?  Nine?  So, five hours?”  She sighed.  “I feel like we just got over jet lag…”

“Mhm,” said Danny.  He wasn’t entirely awake either, and his brain wasn’t up for returning anything but exclamation points on the subject of Gwensyvyr talking to him.  

(And, as a point of fact, they’d been recovered from jet lag even before Matthew’s attempted emergency coronation, and that had been on the… The ninth?  The tenth?  And now it was…  Danny wasn’t entirely sure, actually.  Preparations for the Moon Masque had been a whirlwind.  Late January, anyway.)

(Maybe Jazz was right and they weren’t all that recovered from jet lag.)

“Should we go back to sleep?  I don’t want to throw my sleep schedule off too much, though…”

“Jazz, I don’t… I don’t think that’s really important.”

Jazz made a disgruntled noise, looked back over at him, and abruptly propelled herself off the bed.  “What–”

“Oh,” said Gwensyvyr.  “It might be that she might see?”  She pronounced the ‘gs’ in each ‘might.’ 

“Ohh,” said Jazz.  “She– That–  Hello, Gwensyvyr?”  Then she blinked.  “She’s gone?”

“No,” said Danny.  “Still here.”

“ I just–  I don’t see her anymore.”

“Alas,” said Gwensyvyr.  “A moment, only.  Yet still better than not at all.”

“Y-yeah,” said Danny.  He looked Gwensyvyr over.  “Your arm is better?”  It was, at least, covered in clothing again.

“It appears.”

“This is good,” said Jazz.  “This is good, right?”

“I mean, I don’t think it could be bad,” said Danny with a shrug.  “I can hear her, now.”

“Can you hear the others?” asked Jazz, climbing back onto the bed.  “Vivian?”

“I’ve been awake for a minute,” said Danny.  “And Vivian’s still with Matthew.”

“They have returned,” said Gwensyvyr.  

“Really?” asked Danny.  

“Three, four hours after you began to, ah…  Slevyn?”

“Sleep,” provided Danny.  “But they’re back?”

“I always forget that one,” said Gwensyvyr, mildly.  “Matthew still is awake.”

Danny rolled out of bed.  

“I guess we’re getting up, then,” said Jazz.  She brushed her hair out with her fingers as Danny hunted for something slightly more acceptable to wear downstairs than his pajamas.  Then, Danny remembered that Leo had come down that first day in pajama pants, a blanket, and no shirt, so it wasn’t like it mattered. 

The other ghosts, as silent as ever, pointed Danny and Jazz in the direction of the dining room, where Matthew, Irene, and Joanna were talking quietly and intensely.  They all stopped immediately when the door opened.  

Matthew and Irene looked absolutely awful.  Irene was still in her Moon Masque costume, and it was rumpled and stained.  It looked like she’d been pulling at her hair, with how it had come out of its earlier neat style.  Matthew had changed into a t-shirt and ratty jeans, and his arm was in a sling.  He looked pale, and his other arm had IV tape and various medical bracelets.  His nose was crusted with blood, and he had a black eye.  

“Is Sophia asleep?” asked Jazz, when no one else seemed ready to say anything.

“Sophia is still under medical care,” said Matthew.  He rubbed his eyes with his free hand.  “Nervous breakdown.  Grabbed a syringe from one of the doctors and tried to stab me with it.  Punched me really good, too.”

No wonder he and Mr. Kynbaz had been too busy to answer the phone.  

“Then, I had been given some Revyvtech drugs, because the knife,” he gestured at his shoulder, “had belladonna extract on it.  So I spent three hours after Joanna called getting all my blood replaced, just in case Revyvtech was also poisoning me.  Luckily, Physostigmine is produced by other companies, so Sophia and I were able to take that, and the amount of atropine that got into our systems really wasn’t enough to kill us, anyway.”  He sighed.  “I’m tired of getting poisoned.”

Irene patted his shoulder.  

“Yeah,” said Danny.  “So.  What are we doing about that?”

“Which?”

“The– The thing with Revyvtech.”

“We’re investigating,” said Matthew.  “Unfortunately, you can’t just accuse an entire company of murder.  You have to find the people responsible.  And you need evidence.  Security brought the medicines you tested to a forensics lab, so we’ll see if anything turns up there.  I don’t know what else to do.  I don’t even know if it’s safe to take the Trials, if these ‘blood blossoms’ bioaccumulate, if we’ll all drop dead the minute we finish them, the same way everyone else did.  I don’t know.”

“I don’t think they do,” said Danny, thoughtfully.  “I mean, I had a friend eat some for me, once, and I was still able to do things like phase through him afterwards.”

“There’s that, at least,” said Matthew.  He rubbed his eyes again.  

“You should sleep,” said Joanna.  

Matthew shook his head.  

Jazz cleared her throat again.  “Mom and Dad?” she asked.  

“Kyr Argyn, under house arrest in the Late Wing,” said Matthew.  “Pending an investigation, but of course all the investigators are busy…”  He stood up.  “We’re doing what we can do.  If the spirits are able to give you anything else…?”  He trailed off, hopefully.  

“He should sleep,” said Gwensyvyr.  “I do not believe anything I have to say to you will change that.”  She paused.  “Vivian’s story might.”

Danny shook his head.

“Let me know if that changes,” said Matthew.  He took a breath and held it for a second.  “Joanna, can you–?”

“I’ll keep everyone to the schedule as best I can,” she said.

“Good.  Good,” said Matthew.  He hobbled around his chair, towards the door, Irene helping him.  

“What schedule?” asked Danny, after they had left.  “To prepare for the Trials,” said Joanna.  “We’re going a little fast, but… the full moon is soon.”  She smiled shakily.  “So!  Since you two are up, why don’t you get breakfast - or lunch, I suppose - and we can talk about personal seals.”

[academicallyinsufferable]

11 and 12 Jan

29 and 30 DOP

hi everyone 👋🏻 hope your doing well, so today like I had the best day and I'm kinda happy .

Today I realised how helpless I am when it comes to saying I love you or I am sorry or thanks to my sister (every brown desi family issue) so basically I was in a fight with her over some badminton game yeah ik I was a little disrespectful (definitely not a little) but we were not talking for like 3 days but today she was not home and she sends me some takeout food and I felt bad and I thought that I should just text her thanks and sorry but it took me a while to write that and she didn't even responded like I was dying from inside she just left me on read and comes home and we are talking again like nothing happened.

Things I did :

Completed Electromagnetic induction ✅

Completed human health and diseases ✅

Completed Haloarenes and Haloalkanes ✅

And also played badminton ✅

And cleaned my room (basically my mom did I just moved the bed for her which counts right ?)

Okay see you all bye take care

[ghuleh-witch]

And We Are Tied As One Eternally-IX

Fandom: Ghost Rating: Explicit Warnings: stalking Relationships: Papa Emeritus IV/Copia x OFC Additional Tags: soft!dom Copia, eventual smut, developing relationship, kind of a slow burn, no beta reader Chapter Word Count: 2341 Summary: Ellie Moran just wanted to make a new life for herself. Running to escape the people in her past, she ends up in a small town in the middle of nowhere that happens to be home to a Satanic church. She never expected her life to change again after she started attending the public masses at said church. Ao3 || Masterlist Chapters: 9/? Previous Chapters Tag list: @sodoswitchimage Fic Divider by @gothdaddyissues

“He asked you to the ball as his plus one?” Gemma asked Ellie a couple of days later. After confiding in Gemma about everything that happened involving her apartment and her history with Ethan, Gemma just held her and soothed her. She felt closer to the other woman and it felt nice to have a friend.

“Yeah,” Ellie said. “He said we can go as friends or whatever I want. Whatever that means.” 

“Sounds like he doesn’t want to presume it’s a romantic thing like a date unless you want it to be,” Gemma said. “But you said yes?”

“Yeah, I said I’d go with him.”

Gemma squealed as softly as possible as they were sitting in the library. “Do you have something to wear?”

“Well, no,” Ellie said. “Formal dresses weren’t high up on my things to pack while fleeing my ex.” 

“I’ll take you dress shopping,” Gemma said. “This weekend.” 

“Okay,” Ellie said. “Thanks, that actually sounds really nice.”

“We’ll make sure it has pockets so you can carry some condoms on you.”

Ellie chocked. “What?”

Gemma rolled her eyes. “For when you bang Papa.”

“I’m not going to bang him,” Ellie sputtered. “This is just a friend thing…”

“And I’m the king of England,” Gemma smirked. “Hey, I don’t care if you use them or not, at least have some on you just in case. Anyway, let’s focus.” She reached for the paper she had read a few moments before. “Where were we? Ah, okay this one, This doesn’t apply to you because you’re not becoming a Sibiling of Sin, but if you change your mind—Upon completion of your intitionary training, the current Papa will complete the initiates induction through way of the ancient rite.” 

“Uh, wait, what,” Ellie said as she registered what Gemma said. “Papa has sex with everyone who becomes a Sibling?”

“Yep. The reigning Papa—so Papa Copia will finish an initiates induction through ritual sex. For me, it was Papa Secondo,” Gemma sighed dreamily. “The best sex I’ve ever had.”

Ellie bit her lip as a pang of jealousy rushed through her. “And you all have to do this?”

“Yes, but if someone doesn’t want to do the sex part for whatever reason, the ritual is done symbolically. We’d never force someone to have sex if they didn’t want it, but there are only a handful of people who have done it symbolically. Everyone wants to sleep with the Papas.” 

“What if the reigning Papa is in a relationship?” Ellie then asked. 

“I guess that would be a discussion for the two of them then,” Gemma shrugged. “I’ve never seen a Papa in a relationship while he was Papa, at least not a monogamous one. Either way, it’s a Papa’s duty as a representative of the Olde One.”

“And I don’t have to do it because I’m not joining as a Sibling?”

“Correct. For you, you’ll have to make your case to Sister Imperator with me and Papa to vouch and then she approves you or not before you have an induction with Papa. It’s like a communion ceremony or something. Super tame,” Gemma said.

Ellie barely heard Gemma continue on the subject of the duties of the Sibling. Her mind was caught up on Copia sleeping with every new Sibling that came to the Ministry since the start of his reign. She understood it was part of his job, but the jealousy she felt disgusted her. She should be jealous. Copia wasn’t hers. He was a friend and nothing more.

When she finished her lesson with Gemma, Ellie packed up her backpack. The door to her apartment was replaced and her landlord had her new keys. She told Copia the night before she would be returning to her apartment. He tried to convince her to stay a little longer, but Ellie knew she couldn’t hide. He refused to send her off alone though. He said he would have Aether and a ghoul named Swiss patrolling the street outside of her apartment to make sure Ethan didn’t show up. Ellie didn’t argue. She was thankful for it.

“And I’ll come by when I’m not needed here,” Copia then told her. “I’ll bring some dinner.” Ellie didn’t argue. She was looking forward to spending more time with him. 

Aether took her to her apartment once she was ready to go. Ellie stopped in the office and picked up her new set of keys and then went up to her apartment. She felt Aether’s eyes on her back as she unlocked the door.

“Do you want to come in?” Ellie asked.

“I should go outside and start my watch,” Aether responded.

“Does it matter if you’re outside or in my apartment?” Ellie asked. “You’re supposed to make sure Ethan doesn’t come to my apartment, and wouldn’t it be better if you were already inside with me?”

“I suppose,” Aether said with a shrug. “Alright, fine, but just for a couple of hours. I should be outside when Papa gets here. I don’t want him catching me not following his specific instructions.” 

“Fair enough.”

Aether turned out to be an excellent helper when it came to cleaning up her apartment. What would have taken her four hours only took two. By the time they finished, Aether was heading outside and Ellie was flopping back on her sofa. She lit a candle and looked in her fridge. She had half a bottle of wine, milk that was souring, three bottles of water, and a pack of cheddar cheese. She grabbed the win and hoped Copia didn’t mind how cheap it was. She poured a couple of glasses when there was a knock on her door.

She glanced out the peephole and saw Copia standing there with red oven mitts holding a foil-covered dish with another foil-wrapped package on top. She grinned and opened the door. “Hey,” she greeted, moving aside. “That smells delicious.”

“Thank you, tesoro. It’s my brother’s lasagna recipe and garlic bread,” Copia said as he made his way to her tiny kitchen to set the hot dish down. “Just came out of the oven before I left, so it’s very hot still.”

“Greet, I’m starving,” Ellie said. “I hope you like cheap wine because it’s either that or water. Unless you’d like to sample some sour milk. I won’t stop you, but I will judge you.” 

Copia laughed. “Wine is fine,” he said, unwrapping the food. 

“Your brother’s recipe huh?” Ellie asked looking at the melted cheese and sauce-covered noodles.

“Secondo is a very good cook,” Copia said. “I get a lot of recipes from him.”

“Secondo is your brother?” Ellie asked.

“Si, I thought it was obvious,” Copia said gesturing to his white eye.

“I…I guess I never thought about it,” Ellie responded. “So all the Papas are brothers?”

“Si, we’re all half brothers. Nihil is our father,” he grumbled the last part. “He isn’t much of a dad though.” 

“And your mothers?” Ellie asked.

Copia shrugged. “Women Nihil knocked up and when they saw the white eye they left us at the Ministry. I think Primo had a relationship with his mother, but the rest of us?” He shrugged again. “It doesn’t matter. We have each other. Even if we do want to strangle one another at times.” 

“I’m glad you have each other then,” Ellie said opening a cabinet and pulling out some paper plates. “All I got is paper, sorry.”

“Hey, it works,” Copia said, putting a piece of lasagna on the plate and giving her a chunk of garlic bread. “I hope you like it, cara,” he said handing it to her. 

“I’m sure I will.”

They sat on the floor at her coffee table. Ellie loaded Netflix up on the PlayStation and put on a cheesy horror movie as they ate.

“This is amazing,” Ellie said around a mouthful of cheese. “I haven’t had a decent meal in a while.”

“I imagine moving from place to place doesn’t allow you to keep a fully stocked kitchen,” Copia said.

Ellie shook her head. “It’s been a lot of frozen meals and instant soups.” 

“You can’t live on that, cara,” Copia said sipping his glass of wine. “Secondo and I will make you some food that you can keep in the fridge and reheat.” 

“You don’t have to,” Ellie said, cheeks flushing. She was touched. No one ever offered to cook for her before, but she didn’t want to become someone’s burden.

“I want to,” Copia reassured her. “And Secondo won’t mind.” 

Ellie nodded. Who was she to deny him that? “Okay,” she responded. “Thank you. I really appreciate it. I’m so sick of eating instant ramen.” She laughed softly and finished off her wine to hide the fact that she was tearing up from his offer. “This movie sucks,” she said, changing the subject.

“I know, it’s great.” he laughed. “I love B-rated horror movies.”

They sat in a comfortable silence for a bit. Eventually, Copia got up and put away the rest of the food, telling Ellie to eat through the leftovers and return the dish when she was finished. “Now, to more serious shit,” he said, sitting on the opposite end of the couch from her. “What are we going to do about your ex?”

Ellie sighed. “I don’t know. I’m going to go down to the police station in the morning and try to plead my case again and see if I can get a restraining order. It won’t do me much good, but it’s something at least. Otherwise, there’s not much I can do. I don’t know what he will do if he confronts me.”

“Are you sure you just don’t want to stay at the Ministry until this is dealt with?” Copia asked. “You’ll be safe there.”

“I know,” Ellie sighed. She considered it, she really did. But she needed to deal with this herself. She needed to stand up to Ethan and put an end to this once and for all. “But I need to deal with this, or at least try to.”

“I understand,” Copia said. “But if you change your mind…”

“You will be the first I tell,” Ellie said

“Well, Aether and Swiss will be around all night. They won’t let him near your building. And if you need anything, call me.” 

“I will.” She watched as he stood, wishing he’d stay longer. “I’ll see you for mass on Sunday.”

“I’m looking forward to it,” he smiled. He reached the door and turned to her, taking her hand and bringing it to his lips to kiss. “I’ll see you in a couple of days, tesoro.”

Ellie felt an inferno consume her at the simple gesture. If his lips on her hand did that to her, what would kissing him be like she wondered. “Y-Yeah,” she responded. “I’ll see you. Have a good night.”

“You too. Sweet dreams, Ellie.” 

She watched him leave out the door and make his way down the stairs before she closed the door and locked up. She cradled her hand to her chest and sighed. 

“Shit,” she said to herself. “I like him.” 

He was watching her apartment from across the street. The Airbnb he rented was perfectly positioned to see into her living room. She only had a sheer lace curtain over the window, allowing him to see practically everything inside. His Elenor was so stupid.

He took a drag on his cigarette as he watched the man who had gone into her apartment a couple of hours before leaving. Ethan wasn’t sure who he was exactly. He knew he was affiliated with that damn Satanic church though.

“Oh Elenor, how you have fallen,” he muttered as he watched the man get into a white car and drive off. Ethan tapped the cigarette against the ashtray as his eyes returned to the window. He watched Ellie tidy up her apartment and turn off the light. As if on queue, two masked figures appeared on the street below. Ethan noticed one of them earlier when Ellie had returned to her apartment.

“Freaks,” he muttered. “Playing bodyguard huh? So Elenor isn’t running this time.”

Perfect.

He leaned back in his chair and took another drag. He’d see Ellie tomorrow and have a chat with her. She’d see reason and come back home with him. They’d be together and have the family they were supposed to have.

And if she didn't? Well, he had a plan. 

[chuunai]

Romantic Killer - Chapter One; Time Flies By (1/2)

Modern Sniper AU! Nakahara chuuya x Sniper Best Friend! gn! reader

Synopsis: You and Chuuya Nakahara are a sniper duo from the Port Mafia, having taken care of each other from as far back as your memory goes. No parents, no family, just each other. Living in an apartment as friends by day, blowing brains out of targets at night. Sure, the money isn’t that good. But it’s not like you can go back, right?

TW: Throughout this fanfic series, there WILL be descriptions of gore/blood, death, brief mention and depiction of starvation (not an ED though), angst, prostitution and stupid people who don’t know romantic love from platonic love. It’s not that bad in the beginning, but I will ramp it up as the series progresses.

A.N: Criticism and feedback is welcome and appreciated because this is my first fanfic series and I’m running on low energy.

—

10:30 P.M

It’s dark. Silent, too. Clouds drift over Yokohama, blocking out the moon’s light. The heavy rain poured over all, drenching the ground. It’s all so wet, a heavy humid night. A utility pole happens to be nearby, sticking up in the ground. The wires stick out in all directions, thin and sturdy. Two birds rest on a wire, one a color that resembles blood. The other? Oh, it’s pure white. A stark difference from its companion nearby. Two different creatures, yet in this moment they’re here.

Together.

Together, like Chuuya Nakahara and you. Here he is, laying down on his stomach, sniper rifle perched on the edge of the building, finger on the trigger. The wind occasionally ruffles his hair, the ginger strands resting on his shoulder. A quiet night, that’s what it is. Save for the rain. It soaks him to the bone, clothes clinging to his frame. Every few seconds, he has to wipe his eyes of the water.

Fuck. He should’ve brought an umbrella like you.

You’re behind him, clutching your own gun under the comfort of the umbrella. Waiting for that inevitable shot he would take.

Information from the Port Mafia had detailed an enemy gang who had their own sniper out tonight as well. A good one, allegedly. Too good to be alive. It’s why you two are both out on February 14th. A rainy day where love floods through the city as lovers celebrate each other. No couple here, though. Just a duo. Your duo.

Nothing’s new. Not when it’s been this way for years. Just him and you.

Chuuya’s always had your back, and you’ve always had his. On the streets. On the rooftop. On days where things weren’t so terrible, and on days where it was terrible.

Before as orphans, sleeping in abandoned warehouses where Chuuya would stay up all night, keeping watch. A jacket - his - would cover you for warmth, even if he’d be cold. How when he got food, he gave more to you. You looked so thin, and he was scared shitless you’d die of starvation.

So he went hungry so you could eat more. Hungry until the Mafia found them. Inducted them into their organization and roles.

Now as fucking Mafia members, sharing an apartment even though you two could easily afford your own now. But it’s home. Where memories were made - eating shitty takeout, gossiping about co-workers and having a sleepover party every night.

Blacking out those memories of the past. And looking forward to the future.

And in the future, he’d still be there. As a friend, confident or hell - maybe even more. It didn’t matter. As long as you were happy and safe, Chuuya was okay with his life.

Okay with the work they did now.

His ears catches the sound of your gentle hums, a small smile pricking at the corner of his lips. It’s been a while since Chuuya last heard them. A good contrast to the dead silence you two were stuck in. A bit of chatting never hurt anyone. Shifting a bit, Chuuya’s voice stuck out against the pouring rain, hoping you’d speak back and not be a rule abiding bitch.

“I hate this rain. It’s so fuckin’ wet.”

And he did hate it. Especially without an umbrella and when they were in the middle of an area containing nothing about abandoned house projects and crumbling buildings. A few puddles had formed on the roof, much to his disdain.

“That’s what she said.”

Did you have to? Did you REALLY have to? Chuuya groaned, mentally facepalming himself for walking into that one. You both were the same age - twenty two - and here you were making jokes that a middle schooler would.

“Did you have to?”

“Have to what?”

Fuck you. You totally did know what, but he gives up on it. You’re a cheeky one who never likes to be straightforward with him.

“I- nothing. Hey, do me a favor and get your ass over here, okay? The umbrella too. You can at least cover me too.”

Your footsteps make sounds on the puddles nearby as you stroll over to him, sitting down nearby and begrudgingly covering him with it. A few raindrops roll off the edge of the umbrella, finding their way onto the back of your neck. Chuuya stifles a comment at that, not wanting to lose his umbrella privileges.

“Thanks.”

A small mutter comes from his lips as his shoulder touches yours, not even flinching when your free hand reaches up to play with his hair. He’s too used to it all. The random times where you jump onto his back. Braiding his hair while he naps on the couch at home. Painting his fingernails pink while he’s blackout drunk. This is one of your tamer moments.

“Geez, Chuu. Your hair’s so friggin’ soft. I’m gonna use your hair products when we get home.”

A side-eye from Chuuya.

“I bought them. They’re mine. Not yours, you thief.”

He’d almost always give up his things to you. Clothes, hairties, snacks, etc. You always won, sadly.

“You owe me. Don’tcha remember when you borrowed my rings and lost them?”

He did. Chuuya remembers that very well.

“Fine.”

Another ‘fuck you’ passes through his mind. Minutes go by in relative silence coupled with the occasional bickering. You went back to your corner of the roof, leaving him once again soaked to the bone from the rain. Chuuya regrets not letting you do the assassination for tonight. Now you were dry in your little bubble, being the back-up in case someone tried to rush up the stairs at them.

Boring. This was all so boring. When was the action?

It didn’t take much longer.

The building opposite of them containing the supposed sniper for the night had a shadow suddenly pop up, Chuuya’s body automatically lining up the shot as a gunshot bursts out of his gun. He’s expecting to see blood spurt out of the body, the thud on the concrete.

Nothing.

Instead, as he recovers from the recoil of the shot, your cry of warning rings out too late as another crack shoots out from nowhere.

First, a bloom of hot pain in his collarbone. His ears are ringing a bit, mind dazed and shocked and unable to register how your fingers tug him to safety behind a parapet. Damn it, he thinks. Must’ve been a decoy puppet of sorts. God, how could he have been so stupid as to not think of that?

He’s Chuuya fuckin’ Nakahara. Best sniper in the whole of the Mafia’s men.

Second, the pain intensifies as he slowly comes to his senses, eyes focusing on the sight of your crying self. His heart began to beat faster - not only due to blood loss - but because it hurt so damn much to see you cry.

“Hey- don’t cry. I’m okay.”

Fingers shakily rise to rest on your arm, feeling the warm flesh under the fabric of his gloves. Chuuya’s not dying. Not now, not ever. He’s not done protecting you.

“I’m not dying, you hear me? I’m not fuckin’ dead yet.”

A load of shit, coming from him. The man with blood flowing from his collarbone as he clutches onto you like a child. It’s pathetic looking, and a wave of self-consciousness greets his body. You don’t give a crap though. He’s dying, no time to focus on how child-like and dependent Chuuya is right now.

“I’m not crying, dipshit.”

Your fingers tightened on his shirt as you choke out a reply. That comforts him. He couldn’t be dying if your banter happens even now.

“Sure you’re not. Fuck- this hurts.”

Another quick retort from you, filled with sarcasm and a desperate attempt at normalcy. That it was just another day in your shared apartment rather than him bleeding out in your arms.

Normal normal normal. It’s normal.

“I wonder why. Couldn’t be the fucking gunshot.”

Heh.

It’s true. It hurts so bad. Sharp shudders of pain explode all over his body. His heart, his chest, his head.

Thirdly, Chuuya Nakahara is dying. He’ll confess to that now. The world slowly swirls above him, your voice and sniffles tuning out as you desperately request for medics from the Mafia.

The stars are a mix of bright dots in the night sky.

The rain pours. The umbrella lies forgotten. Water drips down your bodies as he stays in your lap, bleeding out on what others consider a happy day. So much water. Damn, if he was going to go out, it could’ve been in better weather. Not this mess of wind and rain. His shirt is now a color of red, dulled by the water sinking further down on you two.

Chuuya tries to manage a smile. For you. For his best friend.

His everything.

“It’s okay.”

It’s really not. Especially to you.

“The fuck, Chuuya? It’s not okay, okay? Stop talking like you’re dying.”

He is. Chuuya can feel life slowly ebb out of him, his limbs feeling like jelly now. Your arms tighten around him, clutching onto the wet fabric of his shirt. His eyes focus on yours, that smile not leaving his face just yet.

“Chuuya. Chuuya, no. Keep your fucking eyes open.”

Chuuya’s eyelids are woozy. So, so tiring. He needs a nap. Even if it was cold and raining, your arms were cozy and warm.

A short nap.

So he takes a nap, eyes slowly shutting as life flooded his memories. His life, which Chuuya considered having started at twelve years old.

When he met you.

——————

A.N: Hi! So, if you made it this far (thank you if you did <3), this is just like part one of chapter one. I’m planning for the second half to be really long, so I’m going to take a while on that.

Please leave feedback and criticism so I can improve on my writing! Have a good night/day boys, girls and squirrels!

[suddenlybambi]

as long as you stay here [14] ♥ kyle broflovski

pairing : kyle broflovski x reader

college AU - 18+

tags : strangers to friends to lovers, slow burn, fluff, angst, alcohol, afab reader, she/her pronouns, eventual smut

words : 2.2k

chapter 14

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a/n - hot lord okay this is the last pre-written chapter... from here on out I will be writing and posting with nothing saved as backup which is terrifying to me 😭

I hope to keep updates as regular as possible, just won't be able to keep up the every day streak I had going 💕

“Are you sure you’re okay with being here?” Y/N asked for what was probably the 17th time in the 10 minutes they had been sitting outside of her mother’s house in Kyle’s car, waiting for the strength to go in. Sheila had sent them off with snacks for the trip and left Y/N with the contact details for everyone in the Broflovski family and added her to a new family group chat. She was officially inducted as one of them. It was bittersweet to have to leave them to see her real mother.

“I’m okay… are you?” Kyle sighed, looking over as Y/N sat there, staring ahead with a distant look. “Do you want me to do the talking?” He offered.

“No, I need to do this myself…” She took a deep breath, closed her eyes and straightened her back. “Come on, before I chicken out again.”

As they walked to the front door, Y/N grabbed Kyle’s hand, holding it tight. He squeezed hers back quickly to try and encourage her further as she hesitantly rang the doorbell. They waited for what felt like forever, but finally, the door swung open to reveal a woman with her hair messily tied back and a scowl that, judging by the lines on her face, was a permanently etched feature. 

“Mother,” It was only one word, but Kyle had never heard Y/N’s voice in such a dull and emotionless tone. Her words were usually full of warmth, but this was cold and sent a chill down his spine. It was as though she had flipped a switch inside her that turned off her personality.

“Took you long enough,” The woman had a slightly southern drawl as she spoke. Kyle couldn’t quite place down where it originated from. She didn’t say anything else as she stepped aside and lazily waved her arm to usher them in. 

“I’m collecting Henry’s shit for him,” Y/N announced as she walked through the crowded hall full of cardboard moving boxes. “I assume it’s all still in our room?”

“Ain’t touched a thing,” Y/N’s mother waved her arm. “I’ll be in the kitchen. Don’t talk to me.” She walked off, and Kyle’s eyes followed her, burning with rage. How could a parent talk to their child in such a way? 

As he followed Y/N around a corner, his eyes caught a display case at the end of the hallway. It was full to the brim of trophies and ribbons. The walls were littered with pictures of a young girl dressed in glittery outfits and far too much makeup for someone so young. Despite all of that, he recognised her eyes. The little girl was Y/N.

“You won all of these?” His mouth was slightly agape as he tried to read some of the engravings on the trophies. “Bean Queen 2013?” 

“Bean Queen 2011 and 2012, too,” She corrected, pointing at the adjacent trophies. “Henry still calls me that. Used to have to sit on a float in a parade surrounded by green beans while singing a song about a bountiful harvest. It was humiliating.”

“Are we packing up all of these?” He asked, gesturing at the awards and pictures.

“God no,” Y/N scoffed, shaking her head. “They may have my name on them, but they’re not mine. They’re all her’s.” He understood the implications immediately. She didn’t want them. She never wanted them. She only won them for her mom. “Let’s see what state this shithole is in.”

Y/N pushed open a door at the end of the hall. A room with a divider in the form of a curtain splitting it in two came into view. One half was covered in pink; the other was a dark grey. It was quite a stark contrast.

“It’s a four-bedroom house, but she turned one bedroom into a dance studio, one into a home gym, and kept one for herself, so Henry and I had to share a room,” She explained as Kyle looked around. “We’ll get Henry’s stuff over and done with first. That way, I can only pack what I really need of mine, depending on what fits.”

“We’re not leaving behind things if they don’t fit in the car,” Kyle immediately refused. “We’ll make two trips if we need to.”

“I have to consider what will fit in my apartment, though. You’ve seen the space I have,” She sighed, grabbing a box from Henry’s side of the room. His stuff was mostly packed up from when he had last been at home. She just needed to make sure the bits that Henry had highlighted as important were definitely there. “I mean, you’ve seen it, I can barely fit what I already have in my room as it is, and I have no idea when he’ll stop by and collect his stuff. I’ll probably have it for years, knowing him. Asshole never visits me. Why am I even helping him?” Despite her complaints, she didn’t stop.

“What about Wendy’s old room?” Kyle suggested. “It’s mostly empty, right?”

“Bebe has been talking about getting another roommate, one of her friends from class,” She held up some hockey boots, smiling briefly at them and putting them back in the box. “Really, we could do with the extra money for rent. Even with Clyde, we’re struggling. It would be nice to actually fix the stove and cook a proper meal again.” Kyle sat down next to her, opening another box to check the list of items Y/N had placed on the floor for reference.

“My room at home is unused,” He pointed out. “You saw it. My parents hadn’t touched it since I left. We can store things there.”

“I can’t just ask you-” She tried to protest, but he cut her off.

“We’ll figure this out,” He told her firmly. “I promise.”

“That’s everything of Henry’s,” Y/N groaned, stretching as the final box of Henry’s was jammed into Kyle’s trunk. The back seats were reserved for Y/N’s things, which were next on the list. However, it was 9pm, and they were exhausted and hungry. “I doubt she’s prepared food for us, and I don’t really want to talk to her… Wanna go to my old favourite takeout spot?”

“Sounds good!” Kyle nodded with a smile, happy that he would be able to get another little glimpse into Y/N’s life before he met her. “Should I start the car?”

“It’s only a 5-minute walk,” She shrugged. “I never hung out anywhere that I couldn’t walk to within 15 minutes because everyone who could drive was always too drunk to.”

“Lead the way,” He was slightly shocked when she looped her arm with his and started walking together. “What takeout is it?”

“You’ll have to bare with me because it sounds strange,” She laughed a little as she spoke. “It’s soup in a cup. They give you this giant cup bowl thing if you’re eating in, and it's just a big papery-plastic cup for takeout, but it is so good. They have bread that they bake themselves too, and it is just… pure perfection. Real comfort food.”

They walked and discussed the various options for five minutes until Y/N finally stopped in front of a small restaurant called ‘Coup de Soup’ where the U’s looked like little cups with steam coming out of them. Looking through the window, Kyle could see that there were a couple of small tables. Two of them were taken, but there was a free one where they could sit.

“No fucking way!” Y/N gasped, dragging Kyle through the door before he could process what was happening. “Who left you in charge of this place?” She spoke to the person working behind the counter, whose eyes widened in realisation.

“Well, look at what the cat dragged in!” They hopped over the counter. Y/N let go of Kyle’s arm as she was wrapped in a hug. “God, I missed you! What brings you back to town?... And who is your friend?”

“Mom bullshit,” Y/N didn’t elaborate more, but based on the expression on the other person’s face, they understood perfectly well. “Leaf, this is my friend Kyle! Kyle, this is Leaf, my best friend from high school.”

“Demoted to a best friend?” Leaf held a hand to their chest in mock hurt. “That’s rough.”

“We were technically only friends,” Y/N pointed out, sitting down at the spare table and motioning for Kyle to sit opposite as he watched the interaction. “Beneficial friends, but still just friends.” He tried desperately to suppress the jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. Y/N wasn’t his to be jealous over. Whoever she had or still did interact with on an intimate level was none of his business.

“So Kyle, are you a ‘beneficial friend’, as Y/N put it?” Leaf leaned on the table with a grin, looking at him. Their green hair barely poked out of the beanie they were wearing, which Kyle considered an odd choice with the rest of their uniform but didn’t care enough to point out.

“Just… regular friend,” Kyle mumbled, feeling more than a little awkward. He hoped his cheeks hadn’t turned pink, but he felt a little hotter than usual under the questioning.

“Kyle is the one I told you about,” Y/N added. Kyle couldn’t read the facial expressions that were passed between the two, but it was as though they were having an entire wordless conversation. He couldn’t help but feel out of the loop.

“Of course!” Leaf nodded, realisation dawning on their face. “Well, Kyle, it is great to meet you. Can I get you two anything?”

“Usual for me, please,” Y/N requested, looking over at Kyle. “How about you?”

“Oh, I’ll uh… Same for me, please?” He felt nervous and out of place. He wasn’t sure what Y/N’s usual was but hoped it would be something he could eat.

“On it!” Leaf winked at Y/N, who smiled back as they disappeared behind the counter to prepare the food.

“Are you okay?” Y/N suddenly turned her attention to Kyle, immediately picking up on his discomfort but not understanding why. “Do you need to step outside for some air? It’s a bit hot in here.”

“No, I’m… I’m fine,” Kyle put on his best convincing smile, hoping it would do the trick. She didn’t believe him but didn’t want to prompt any further discomfort by pushing him to tell her what was wrong. “What did you say about me to your friend?” It took a moment for it to register that he was referencing earlier when Y/N said that Kyle was the one she had told Leaf about.

“I told them the truth,” She shrugged, looking over at them while they bopped to the quiet music playing over the radio as they cut the bread into slices. “That you had taken their place as my favourite person.”

“What?” Kyle’s eyes widened a little as the words hit him. “I’m your favourite person?”

“Of course!” She smiled as though it were completely obvious. Before Kyle had the chance to respond, Leaf returned with two giant mugs of soup and a plate of the fluffiest bread Kyle had ever seen. “Thank you, Leaf!”

“No worries, babe,” Leaf blew her a kiss, which she jokingly caught and mimed, putting in her bra. Y/N turned to the table and started devouring the soup and bread as though it were her last meal. Kyle was about to do the same, but he was startled by Leaf whispering to him. “Treat her well.”

“You’ve done that before, haven’t you?” Kyle watched as Y/N shimmied her own bedroom window open. Her mom had locked them out while there were gone, which she had predicted would happen as they were walking home.

“Baby, I used the door more today than in my entire time living here,” The pet name caused Kyle to completely freeze up. He couldn’t move or breathe. It went straight to his heart. “Got it!” She cheered as the window popped open. “After you, good sir.” She grinned, waving her arm to usher him in through the window.

“Why, thank you!” Kyle played along once he had gotten a grip on his racing heartbeat. He awkwardly climbed in through the window, landing on Y/N’s childhood bed. She followed suit, landing on top of him. “Sorry, I didn’t move in time.”

“It’s fine! You broke my fall more than the bed usually does!” She laughed, not making any attempt of moving. “In fact, you’re much more comfy than my bed. I think I’ll stay like this.” There was no way for Kyle to hide how flustered he was by the position. She was lying on top of him, head nuzzled against his chest, legs and arms wrapped around him. When she didn’t move except to kick her shoes off, he realised she wasn’t joking.

“You’re actually staying like this?” He asked, slightly nervously. It wasn’t uncomfortable, at least not in the physical sense. He was paranoid he would do something wrong in his sleep, somehow throw her off of him. Or worse, wake up with morning wood.

“Are you okay with that?” She yawned, already closing her eyes. Despite the flood of bad things that could happen if they stayed like that, Kyle’s mouth moved without hesitation.

“Yes.”

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