#whoops its badly broken

[sandymybeloved]

everyone thinks I have a really high pain tolerance, because once on a guide camp I broke my arm in two places and didn't tell anyone till I got home

in reality there were no adults I knew around when it happened (it was a big camp with lots of different guide groups), so I walked back to our tents, I had to stop half way becuase I was crying so hard from pain I couldn't see, when i got there my guide leaders weren't there so i went to wait in the tent, passed out for an unknown length of time, got found by the leaders who told me off for not doing camp stuff, removing my ability to tell them I was in a serious amount of pain

anyway, I went and climbed a tree that afternoon, and convinced everyone my body started violently shaking becuase I was scared of heights (I am not, at least not those kinds of heights), and not because my arm was screaming at me and unable to support my weight

high pain tolerance my foot

[another-day]

welcome back to episode in review and HOO BOY do we have a lot to talk about

spoilers for episode 18 of inanimate insanity invitational!!!!!

so to begin OH MY GOODNESS that was a doozy

that episode was intense i had to keep pausing and rewinding it was scary ok lets start

seeing this i just knew i was in for a ride whoop dee doo!!

i feel like they were right TO A DEGREE, because mephone doesn’t have any ill intentions, he’s just misguided. he thinks the show is the only way he can have friends or people who like him, its really sad.

just wanted to include this because THEY’RE ALL SO SILLY and cabby politely standing beside the seat because she can’t sit on it THEY’RE SO SILLY

i was talking to some of my friends about this earlier, but silver’s whole world probably cane crashing down here. he’d been fighting for not just himself, but candle as well, and her not wanting to give him her vote, despite him doing everything she wanted, was probably heartbreaking. he’d found his inner flame and beat the competition and this is what he gets? i understand why he was so pissed later on because the one person he thought would be happy for him wasn’t.

he almost immediately covered it up, but his inner flame’s later outburst shows how he really felt.

mephone was hoping his plan would follow through here, but it also shows he’s hung onto the guilt of season one’s finale. in one of my previous theories, i guessed that he valued paintbrush for two reasons; that he thought they’d understand the guilt of losing 4s, and that they act somewhat similarly to him. i don’t think this is in confirmation of that, but it backs it up somewhat.

the perfect prize to mephone is this going to plan, without any casualties despite what the season four file may imply, from what i can tell. he’s scared its all gonna go wrong the same way season one’s finale did. however, i still don’t think he wamted to follow through with this plan, evidenced by both him and the floor at the end.

do i need to say anything

its the anti-avengers dude

sorry this was so funny to me i had to include it

this scene messed me up guys like seriously

on one hand, candle thinks silver spoon’s learned his lesson, that the inner flame is not something to boast, but rather cherish and use for good. she thinks this because silver spoon functions in such a way. he reveals something about himself that she doesn’t approve of, she expresses that, and he changes to fit her standards, that’s how its always been. it shows her trust in him, his constant, because as much as he thinks otherwise, he never truly changes his ways, until now at least. that’s why she was so shocked, thinking he wouldn’t hang on to that since he seemed so unbothered previously. to her, silver was almost always an open book, so to see him hide something was shocking.

for silver spoon on the other hand, the one person who always had his back, who taught him everything he knew, turned on him. he did everything she asked and she won’t support him. it would be enraging, hence why he didn’t understand her lesson. he was too focused on the fact that she’d decided, in his eyes, that he still wasn’t enough, too powered by emotion and greed. he’s incredibly insecure, so to have her tell him he’s doing everything he aspired for wrong resulting in the rage clouding his mind, and thus,

SHE IS DEAD BOY ‼️

seeing him inching toward her motionless body at the end was tragic i was on the floor. she advised him not to let the inner flame, his rage, cloud his mind, he didn’t listen, and look where that led him. its tragic, really.

as a mephone angst enjoyer WAAAAH

this was mean, springy’s mean, i don’t like him.

… but he’s right. to mephone, this WAS all a game. he’s changed and grown, but that’s not gonna change how badly he’s treated people. mephone is broken because he refuses to fix himself. implied through the screen protector memory from episode 13 season two, mephone was taugh that he was strong, and should never be a vulnerable. as a likely result, he may have grown to resent vulnerability, and in turn never sought help, because that would be making yourself vulnerable.

whoop dee doo ok i’m ending it there before i get out of hand.

thanks for reading this if you did and i hope you didn’t completely hate it!!!

have a lovely day, and stay safe ;P

[lemonxdaisybby]

Hello, can I ask for headcanons on dating Higashi (aka the babygirl)? Could be general/NSFW, it's up to you! Thank you so much~

I got two Higashi requests at the same time, and I am v happy because he is my favourite in the Judgement gang 💕

Link to the NSFW hcs ✨here✨

I’ve also included a few more below too! Hope you like and thank you for the ask! also sorry this is long I got mega carried away whoops

Higashi is babygirl indeed, yes.

It would take him absolutely ages to confess to you. He’d try so hard to hide his feelings at first, and instead would choose to maintain his usual tough guy facade, trying to appear all gruff and serious.

This would not work. Yourself and anyone hanging around with you two would totally catch him softly smiling or staring at you. As soon as he realises his facade has been broken, he’d clear his throat hastily and quickly return his face back to its signature scowl. He’d probably turn away in an attempt to find something else to busy himself with, flustered that he got caught.

When he does eventually gain the courage to confess, he would invite you to meet him for a coffee at a nice, peaceful cafe, with absolutely no indication of why he suddenly wants to meet up with you, alone. It would be mega confusing, but also it’s Higashi, so you’re not gonna decline a meet-up with this precious angel.

He’d seem so on edge when you arrive, he’d be very jittery and would be wearing a deep frown, and you’d notice that he can’t quite seem to meet your gaze.

He probably made an error in choosing a quieter cafe to make his confession, as it means he has to speak in a lower voice to make sure you two aren’t overheard. You’d probably have to get him to repeat the confession twice as he was so quiet the first time. He’d be gripping his coffee cup so tightly the entire time, you’re surprised it didn’t explode.

He was honestly so happy and also surprised when you accepted his fumbling confession, as though he almost expected you to reject him.

Higashi is an absolute gentleman, so with dating he would definitely take it rather slow, and he would be very conscious of boundaries. He’d absolutely hate to ever make you feel uncomfortable. He would also be rather nervous when the two of you first start dating, so expect some awkwardness.

No PDA. He would get so embarrassed. Not because of you, but because he’s got this tough Yakuza facade to maintain, and also the guys would absolutely roast him to shreds if they ever witnessed him being affectionate. He would however be okay with holding your hand, and when you’re saying your goodbyes he would give you a lil forehead kiss, although the first time he did this his face got so heated.

Higashi would make such a huge effort to make time for you. Any time you need him, he’s there in a flash. Kaito and the guys would probably tease him and tell him he’s whipped (which he would heatedly deny), but they’re also extremely glad that he’s found someone as lovely as you. They want the best for their baby boy.

He would make time for little dates with you through the week too, just little casual outings, such as meeting up for a drink and a small bite to eat at a cafe, or a casual, relaxing evening at a restaurant where the two of you can unwind and enjoy each others company over some amazing food. He’d also enjoy going on little walks with you round the city.

In terms of sex, he was so fucking nervous the first time he fucked you. He is a massive over-thinker, and would maybe worry that he would perform badly or fuck up somehow and embarrass himself. Your first time together was good however. It was clumsy, and there was a sense of urgency almost, as the two of you had probably wanted to fuck long before now, but both were too awkward to initiate it.

He prefers positions where he can see your face, to gauge your reactions so that he can make sure he’s making you feel as amazing as possible. He’s very observant.

Higashi wouldn’t be massively loud, but there would be a lot of heavy breathing, and also low groans whenever something feels particularly good.

He’s not the cuddliest person, but his after sex snuggles would be so lovely. He’d have you pulled close to his chest, with your head tucked under his chin, and he’d be stroking your back slowly, his fingers gently trailing over your skin. You would just feel so safe and loved.

[wonijinjin]

dust: a christmas special (ot7)

author’s note: to end the holiday season here is a little special with your favourite boys! have a peaceful day, take care.

synopsis: the christmas chaos vanished, time to clean up your mess, but it is not easy with those seven.

word count: 1.0k | genre: fluff, humour/crack | pairings: enhypen x gn! reader (platonic!) | warnings: mentions of being deaf, yelling, playfighting

“i think we should start cleaning up guys, the situation is not sustainable anymore.” it was the last day of christmas, the holy spirit and the holiday atmosphere slowly fading as time went on, you and the boys getting full and sick of stuffing yourselves with delicious special meals which you partly helped cook as well as got delivered to make sure you had enough of everything. wrappers of chocolate and presents were all over the kitchen counter, not leaving any space for you to make your morning drink; moreover the house looked like a mess, the two floors were terribly packed with all sorts of stuff you had to get in order to complete the decoration or to ensure that everyone was having the time of their lives (which included a karaoke machine, darts, and a table tennis court just to mention some activities you did), them being a bit damaged due to the excitement of the day before, the boys handling them roughly. “what did you say? sorry i’m literally deaf, yesterday’s karaoke destroyed my eardrums…even though i wanted to just sleep peacefully…” jake complained while moving into the kitchen, eyes barely open since he didn’t get enough sleep. “oh shit-“ “WHY WOULD YOU DO THAT OH MY GOD!”jake whined when you accidentally knocked the pot next to you over, its fall chattering on the marble floor, making your friend jump in surprise. “whoops, sorry. can you get the others? we need to clean this mess up.” you said gently, trying not to startle the poor boy even more.

ten minutes later all of the seven men were on their feet, sleepy gazes pinned upon your figure while waiting for an answer as of why you needed them so badly since jakey had no energy to even finish his sentence. “this is disgusting guys. i don’t even know where this suspicious substance came from, but i think it is better for all of us if we try to get rid of it.” you said with a face of shock, holding a roll of wipes and pointing at the countertop which had what you suspected was some kind of juice, sticking to everything of course. “hee please take the ornaments down from the rooms with riki, they are like broken in half or ripped into pieces anyways, so you can just throw them in the trash can.” you ordered, ushering the oldest and youngest boys of the group out of the mentioned room, and grabbing jay by his hand. “you are gonna help me clean the kitchen since we are probably the only ones who actually know how to do it.” he smiled at your words; you often came around to their dorm to spend time with them, meanwhile getting into a habit of cooking with jay, and this holiday was no exception; you had a blast with these silly boys whom you loved dearly, but the fun was over and everyone had to get back into their normal lives soon, not to mention new year’s eve rolling around soon enough. “sunoo, sunghoon please collect the wrappers.” you pleaded, the duo already hurrying to get the bags. “and lastly jakey and wonnie, can you go out to buy some new garbage bags and cleaning stuff? we are gonna run out i think.” you wondered, looking around the cabinets to find out what was necessary.

after hours of mopping and like ten bags of trash later you finally managed to get the building squeaky clean. “good job guys! i miss the christmas spirit, but i think this little session did wonders to the house! isn’t it nice to have a clean surface to sit down on?” you grinned at them, however they weren’t that happy. “yeah yeah great…” jay said while scratching the back of his head. “i wasted half a day for this…when i could’ve went out to get that ichiran ramen i got from heeseung!” riki added right after, surely not being satisfied with how his holiday came to an end. “i will treat you to a big meal on new year’s eve okay? yall are so dramatic!” you said with a blank expression. “you guys did nothing but eat and play for DAYS…a bit of hygiene doesn’t hurt you know.” sunoo sided with you, happily skipping around the house in the sunshine that was coming in through the big windows. “hah! that’s it for you all, sunny is on my side! i knew you would never let me down!” you ran to him, hugging him tightly to which he responded with a bubbly laugh. “are we gonna argue about this any further or are we gonna finally try to solve that 20000 piece lego set you bought for us?” jungwon asked with a cocked brow, you not even having time to process what happened when sunghoon started screaming. “YEAH FINALLY, THE LEGO!” he quickly grabbed it and poured it out onto the ground, sitting down next to the pieces. “now that i think of it it was a good decision to put away the stuff which has been laying here. now we have all the space for the fun!” heeseung commented, already lowering himself next to hoon. you watched the seven idiots fondly, looking at how their eyes sparkled. “okay big boys, let’s start then!”

bonus:

“YAHHH RIKI DID YOU LOSE THE LAST PIECE?” “I TOLD YOU I HAVEN’T SEEN IT, ARE YOU STUPID?” “HEY! that is not how you talk to the older members!” “it was sunoo’s fault anyways, he was dancing around i bet he kicked it off somewhere…” “I WILL MAKE SURE YOU WILL BE THE ONE KICKED OFF YOU LIAR!” “here we go again…”

[thecrackedbead]

I meant to do that - Or the making the 'Frosted Leaves' necklace.

I...uhm...er....sort of meant to do that. Yep, I totally had the whole thing planned out. Yesiree. I Meant To Do That.

---

The before and after pictures of 'Frosted Leaves'. A great demonstration of my definitely, totally screw up-free design process.

---

The start

Don't understand what I'm talking about?

Allow me to backtrack to a few months ago. I often get ideas from thrift store jewelry. Sometimes I leave the jewelry but take pictures. Sometimes I take them home and reuse the materials. Sometimes I take them home and do repairs.

The last of these was my plan for the necklace which I'd recently picked up for $12.99, or rather $9.99 as gotten a couple dollars knocked off when I had pointed out the frayed thread wrapping some of its cords, the broken clasp, the missing leaves and the split rings, attaching the aforementioned leaves to the main necklace piece, which were so warped and badly made that caught on *everything* (my poor shirt/pants/tablecloth/etc 😭). I'd replace the feathers with ones from The Hoard of Doom™️ and replace the frayed cord with something like dyed-leather.

---

The evil split rings.

---

So I got to work, cut off and dispose of the old clasp and the evil-fabric-destroying spring rings and put the intact findings in The Horde™️ to be reused or given away later.

The Screw-ups Things I Totally Meant to Do

I don't know exactly why I thought it was a good idea, but I started out by attaching non-evil split rings to the main piece's connector loops. As these ones where solidly made, it was taking a bit of fiddling to get it properly attached and...

*pop*

...the loop broke off. Fiddlesticks!

---

Whoops.

---

I took a breath and figured I could break off the opposite loop, to keep things symmetrical. It popped off easily enough.

You'd think I'd be sensible at this point and switch to open jump rings for the other loops as the former were putting too much stress on the piece. Yeah, about that...

*pop*

Darn it to heck!

Surely now I'd be careful and I was. This time I managed not to twist the loop off when I put the split ring on, but I did bend it a touch. So carefully I grabbed my pliers to gently bend out back into p...

*pop*

Sigh.

Yep, this was clearly all part of my magnificent plan.

Regrouping

At this point, I had a bit of a hissy fit and the remaining necklace pieces were thrown into my pile of half-finished prototypes and there it sat for a month or so.

Eventually, I returned to the pile and was tossing things there into the giveaway, finish and take apart piles. As such, I found myself reexamining the necklace. I still liked the shape and detail of the main part. Carefully I removed the other loops and filed down the remains. The silvery colour of the base metal revealed and the ease at which I did this told me it was pewter. It tends to be soft. No wonder the loops has broken so easily.

I was also left with shimmering patches of gray where the loops were once attached along side the bronze surface metal. This initially annoyed me but...hadn't I made a bracelet with gold-plated beads that were supposed to look good both with gold colour and the underlying brass should the gold wear off? I could play with the idea again.

---

The bracelet mentioned. First, the gold-plate is still on the beads. Second, it has largely worn off.

---

Having the silver only in one area wouldn't work; so, I attacked other areas with my file to spread it out.

Ideas disgarded, idea claimed

At this point I revisited by original idea of using the original beads and some leather and remaking the original look. This crashed and burned. Multiple times. Generally shortly after take off.

I'd get out the original beads and some cords of different and my eyes would start burning as soon as I set them next to each other and that would be that. (Maybe I should have said burned then crashed?). I eventually removed the original beads from the equation as the changed colour scheme of the main piece no longer fit.

I fiddled around with leather cord, twisting and braiding it. Better but not by much.

In the end I when with my fallback rule: 'Keep it simple, stupid.' I tracked down beads that for the new colour scheme, silver with faux glass opals, bronze with bronze glass beads and more bronze plus blue with impression jasper. I used the variety of sizes of jasper beads to hold the main piece in place and keep things from being *too* simple. I finished things off with using bronze-plated pewter bead caps at the ends and, in keeping with my earlier chose attacked them with a file to reveal some of the silvery pewter beneath.

---

My bead type and size choices.

---

You can see where I used the larger beads to hold the main piece in place.

---

So what happened to 'I meant to do that'?

They say, "No plan survives contact with the enemy." They say, "There's a point in every artwork where you can see the final product."

In this case, 'they' were right. The necklace and it's stupid *pop*ing and my own artistic sensibilities kept me from making any progress. At the same time, those enemies were key to making something I like better than anything I planned or what I imagine the necklace originally looked like. They forced me to wait until I could see the final product and what I was meant to do.

---

The final product.

---

[ashintheairlikesnow]

I’m not sure if you have something planned for this already but wouldn’t it be the height of irony if Tooley got monched on by a starved Chris when he forgot to drug him? Just opens the door and whoops! He eaten!

CW: Whumper death, drunkenness, some dehumanization, blood drinking, bit of gore, vampirism, some very light catholicism

-

New York City, 1936

KING EDWARD VIII ABDICATES THRONE British Monarch to Wed American Socialite Wallis Simpson

Tooley kicks at the sodden, half-frozen newspaper stuck to his shoe, grunting with the effort it takes to dislodge it. His hands are buried deep in the pockets of his thick woolen coat, and he ignores the envious stares of others whose threadbare outfits are patched, whose gloves are little more than rags wrapped around their not-quite-frostbitten fingers.

Instead, he pulls his scarf up higher, tucks his chin beneath its knitted warmth, and finally manages to send the scrap of paper with its water-stained black-and-white image of a stern-faced soon-to-be ex-king and his Baltimore lover into the street, where it sticks in a puddle and soaks clean through.

The old-timers say a heavy rain is coming, citing their aching joints and bones. It's been a wet winter already, and the absolute last thing New York needs is more rain.

Tooley plans to be holed up in his nice warm little house for the whole of it. He's sold three paintings in a month, and he can spend the next few weeks on the next one until his hands want to drop right off his wrists without having to distract himself with petty concerns like money.

The liquor bubbles warm inside him, and even with the frigid air he's broken a sweat along his back, trickling to his waistband, almost a tickle. He stumbles a little, catches himself, coughs out a laugh as the cold air burns deep into his lungs. It can't penetrate the hazy heat of the drink, though.

Mel's always has the best whiskey, and Tooley has the green these days to pay for the very best indeed. He's spent what might be a whole month's pay - if he weren't the luckiest artist in New York - in a single night.

You might say he's made a deal with the devil.

He pulls the brim of his fedora down, shielding his brow from the bit of freezing moisture speckling his cheeks. He struggles not to giggle like a child.

"Got a bit to spare for a hungry man?" A rasping voice calls out from an alley as he passes. "Help me feed my family, sir? I'm out of work, sir! Got three little ones with hungry bellies!"

Tooley ignores him.

There are crowds like that everywhere these days, always pressing for help, for a little something more and more and more. Men out of work, men in bread lines, women with tired faces and sad children. He's had just about enough of it.

They're calling it a depression, and he finds the term apt enough, considering it seems the whole country's been tumbled into a hole and can't find its way out.

He'd take his muse to Europe and paint there if it weren't for the echoing tension that bleeds over across the sea. Every nation he's idolized for their arts is trying to posture at each other. Rattling sabers while the people sigh heavily and keep washing their laundry, like always.

Tooley was a child when the Great War tore his own family apart - losing an older half-brother to the pointless trenches, a father to the mustard gas that ate his lungs to pieces, a mother to her desperate, sharp grief at her husband and stepson's loss.

The War had rendered him alone in the world before he was even twenty, though he'd been too young to hardly understand it and it had had nothing to do with him.

Wars were for rich men to send poor men to fight in, and Tooley is hoping to have enough wealth to maybe just float right past a new one, if the rumors beginning to swirl came true and Europe is going to erupt. Surely, though, no one would let a second war as horrible as the last happen.

Surely not.

Still, even so, he can simply disappear if they try to call him up to fight. He has no one left to lose, after all. No one to fight for, no one to care for. No one but his pretty little model, all locked away, his to keep.

Tooley takes a sharp left and the streets begin to change from the harsher gray of the city proper into neighborhoods, houses crammed tightly together. It's not the best part of town - Tooley's parents weren't the wealthiest, and he doesn't live like a gentleman, he's got no need to, it's not how he thinks a proper artist should live anyway. Have to keep up the image of the nearly-starving creative genius, after all.

There are still lights in some windows, despite the late hour. Tooley isn't the only one drunk at midnight and still moving.

It's a mile or so from the start of his street to where his house is nestled between two others, close enough he could reach out his kitchen window and touch the brick of the home next door. He smiles a little. His nose aches with the cold at the tip of it, but that's nothing to worry himself over.

He's home.

It takes him four tries to unlock his front door, the key jabbing into wood and brass too far to one side or the other. He laughs, breath puffing white clouds into the air, his ears burning with the cold where his hat doesn't quite cover them.

Good thing he's not with a woman, tonight, if his aim's so bad with just his hands.

The thought makes him laugh harder, nearly a guffaw, loud enough that he's sure he's woken a neighbor or two. It's not the first time.

Finally, the key slides home and the lock clicks and Tooley moves inside. The house is chilled in the entryroom, but as he slides his coat and fedora off to leave them on the coat rack and moves into the kitchen, towards the back, he can feel the warmth slowly trickling from the ticking radiators along the walls.

He's due for a coal delivery in the next couple of days, and boy, he's going to need it with the weather the way it's been.

Tooley heads for his perfect little secret, the vampire held in the backroom, once a sort of servant's bedroom for some family that had owned the home even before his own parents did. It's his studio, now, and the place where the little vampire boy is kept.

He unlocks that door, too. A key, a deadbolt, a little sliding lock at the top for added safety.

"Here, kitty kitty kitty," He slurs, and laughs again, delighted at his own little joke.

There's a scrape and a rustle, and Tooley steps back to let the vampire boy move forward, out of the freezing unheated room - Tooley only turns the radiator on in there when he himself is working, it's not like dead things care about being warm after all - and into the kitchen proper, with its little two-person table.

The boy is looking dirty - he's due for a bath, long overdue honestly. Good things he doesn't sweat enough to stink.

His hair hangs lank in his eyes, closer to dark copper than the new-penny shine Tooley prefers. There are smudges along his cheeks, marring his perfect freckles. He's draped in a sweater patched badly where his elbows have worn holes right through, pants that are tied with a rope since Tooley sure isn't going to waste money on a belt for a corpse.

"Is, did, did you, um, did you bring me food?" The vampire boy looks up at him, eyes glinting a little in the dimness, that unsettling cat-like glow-in-the-dark effect. His little fangs flash, too. "I'm... I'm, I'm hungry, Tooley."

"I know you are, bloodsucker."

"It's, it's been, um, it's been weeks, Tooley-"

"I know, I know. Shut your trap." Tooley ruffles his hair, then pulls his hand back with a grimace as he remembers how dirty and greasy it's gotten, walking away to go to the sink and wash his hands. "We'll get t'that. I met with someone very important at th' bar tonight, and first things first, you and I are going to celebrate."

The boy moves slowly, staying half-crouched - he's been hit before, when Tooley didn't want him to stand all the way up. He settles himself against the wall, head tilted to the side. His cheekbones cut sharp angles in his face, edging down to his narrow chin.

Those big green eyes follow Tooley everywhere he goes.

"Celebrate what?" He asks, and Tooley wonders just how old the ridiculous little thing is. He'd said early aughts, hadn't he, on when he was turned? So he'd be, what, in his forties really?

Funny.

Was he locked up during the Great War?

He's still a pretty teenager, but he's probably closing in on fifty. Tooley's twenty-some years younger and looks infinitely older, in his own estimation.

Tooley should look into vampirism, seems an excellent way to hold onto your looks, doesn't it? He wonders if the boy knows how to turn him. They could make beautiful work forever...

Hm.

Something to ruminate over when he's hungover in the morning.

"New commission. I'm taking a few weeks off, give us both a break, but I've got the basic details. I'll pick up a broad, get her all set up for modeling, we'll make us a mint, sweetheart." He moves to the counter, picking up the half-full bottle of gin he keeps there, taking a swig and grimacing, coughing. There's a rattle in his lungs these days he doesn't like much.

"You'll, you'll kill her?" The vampire watches him. He looks hungry, with all those sharp lines emphasized, as though he were a painting himself still in progress, with the outline still written in graphite showing through the colors. He's pale, painted in wash, not yet turned to vivid velvet intensity with oils.

"'Course. You think any of my models would stay alive anywhere near you?" He laughs at the very idea, missing the vampire's little flinch as he turns away. He pulls a loaf of bread from the breadbox, already starting to stale but that's all right, he's going to toast it over the stove anyway. The world swims around him from the liquor, and he catches the counter with one hand to keep himself upright.

The feeling brings another laugh out of him.

The little vampire smiles faintly in echo of it. He has to work to get the stove to gas, narrowing his eyes as it struggles, sputters, before finally a little flame flares up. Just enough to give off a little heat for the toast.

"Fuck. Drank too much. Or not enough." He laughs again, and pulls a knife from the knifeblock, the sharp serrated thin blade best for slicing through the heavy sourdough he buys from a woman down the block. Bit of toast, pat of salted butter, that'll get him through to morning when he can head down for eggs and bacon at Paulie's diner.

Maybe he'll even buy some extra for the hungry men who hound around the doors. He can be a philanthropist.

As he slices, the knife slips off the stale, hard crust and cuts right through the back of his hand, a long line immediately welling with bright red blood. He groans, irritated, and sets the knife down, turning to run cold water over it as the pain flares bright, but slightly muted from his drunkenness.

There's a rustle behind him, and Tooley's mind only belatedly begins to allow alarm to trickle through the warm fuzz of the gin and whiskey. He slowly turns around.

Where the vampire boy had been curled against the wall, a bundle of skinny bones and too-big clothes, there's... nothing.

Tooley glances to one side and sees the boy crouched on the floor by the edge of the lower cabinets, his hands pressed into the ground. He moved five feet in less than a second.

His eyes are flared, wide and with pupils burying the iris in black. He clicks, softly, tongue against teeth in an inhuman way.

Click-click-click-click.

click-click-click.

How'd he move so fast?

"Shit," Tooley whispers. "When's the last time I fed you?"

The vampire doesn't answer, only stares, unblinking, muscles tensing and relaxing, tensing and relaxing. He clicks again.

His lips pull back from his teeth and those fangs that seem so cute and little on every other day suddenly look long, like daggers, dripping a shimmering venom to the ground.

Tooley tries not to blink, too, but his eyes dry and dry and dry and eventually he can't help it. His eyes close, a fraction of a second, and flare open right away.

Not fast enough.

The vampire leaps and Tooley grunts at the impact of the small bony body against his own, his lower back smacking into the line of the counter with a flash of pain. The bread and knife both clatter to the ground.

Panic comes, but it doesn't help. He's still groping to get at another knife when the vampire's fingernails dig into his scalp, grip into his hair and jerk his head to the side to bare his throat.

"Hungry," The vampire boy hisses. "Hungry, Tooley. Hungry."

"I-I know, just, just don't blow your wig, gimmee a minute, I can get you something, just hold on-" Tooley's voice is thin from the harsh angle his neck is being held at, and he swallows, seeing in a bleary haze the way the vampire's huge eyes are focused on the movement of his adam's apple, the bob of his throat.

Can he see the blood pulsing there?

He puts his hands up against the vampire's chest to try and push him off, but it's like pushing against rock. He thinks about painting the vampire as a kind of young Prometheus for a dandy from Boston, tied naked to a rock to be pecked at by eagles, and wonders if the mythological man ever tried to push the rock itself, and if it failed as miserably for him as it does for Tooley now.

"There's blood in the shed out back, just let me go and I'll grab it for you." He pitches his voice soothing and slightly patronizing, like speaking to a whining dog. "Okay, kitten? Just two minutes and you'll be fed, right as rain."

The vampire pauses, hesitates, and Tooley feels his hands working at Tooley's hair and one shoulder, like a cat kneading into your lap before they settle. His little stray. His breathing starts to ease, his heart to slow down, the first rush of panic subsiding.

The world still spins a little, but the rush of adrenaline is settling things into something more solid, wiping away the liquor.

"I'll put you back in your room and go get it for you, it's right outside, good and cold," Tooley coos, and realizes too late it isn't what he should have said.

"There's blood right here, and and and, and, and it's living," The vampire boy says, eyes wide and inhuman, and he's absolutely gorgeous. "Your, your, yours is hot."

Tooley would paint him like this, all feral instinct overwriting the living corpse of an anonymous Irish immigrant who died dozens of years ago. A metaphor, maybe, for the way some of the children who come here lose all their European culture and get boorishly American, and-

The vampire bites down, and all thoughts of art and culture flee from Tooley's mind.

The liquor holds off the pain so long the venom hits before he even feels the way those sharp teeth have breached his skin. He goes limp, dropping in a heap to the floor. He thinks he hits his head on the loaf of bread before it knocks into the floor.

They feel about the same level of hardness.

The knife is right next to his head, lying there, shining in the yellowed lamplight, with its carved wooden handle.

All he has to do is move his hand a few inches to reach it.

Just a few inches.

He tries, desperately, to tell his fingers where to go.

The vampire sucks hard at the wound in his neck, pulling blood from his veins like a man drinking an egg cream after a long hot day's work, and Tooley groans. He can feel the press and pull without the pain, and it's the strangest thing he's ever felt. Stranger than those he's gone to bed with.

The venom makes his limbs feel like stones, weighed down to motionless. He struggles even to swallow saliva, to take a deep breath. His heart never races again with panic. He isn't able to feel it any longer.

Those sharp little fingernails dig hard into his shoulders, the weight of the vampire settled on him, straddling him. A little flirty thought - at least buy me dinner first - makes its way across his mind, barely coherent, slow as molasses.

The vampire starts up his soft rumble, the vibration filtering in through into Tooley's body. It seems like it makes him feel even more frozen, heavy as the ocean and weightless at once.

His eyes are on the ceiling, and he realizes how long it's been since anyone cleaned the corners where cobwebs have grown and grown. They need swept away.

Funny how he never noticed before. Too busy with his art.

There's a moment where Tooley is surprised to look down at himself, as if he's floating somewhere near the ceiling staring down at his own open eyes. When he needed not to blink, he couldn't stop himself, but now the body he is looking at just stares and stares and stares, unseeing, unblinking, unbreathing-

Oh.

As soon as the realization hits, Tooley's awareness of himself as a body he can observe is gone.

There is darkness, and then a point of terrible final light. He feels the grasping of bloodied hands.

And he's gone.

The vampire drinks until the blood stops pumping, until the heart beneath his kneading hand is still. Then a rough tongue laps at the wounds, finding the last few droplets there that still sing with life.

The vampire pulls back, skin flush with life, no longer white as snow. His freckles stand out, scattered like constellations of stars over his skin. The dead man beneath him has all the paleness he had before, they are switched, swapped death for life.

He wipes the blood from around his mouth and looks slowly upwards, breathing in deep gulps he doesn't need but which feel so, so good.

He moves to the stove, to turn it off, but he doesn't quite turn it off all the way. An odd smell fills his nose and the vampire's nostrils wrinkle, but he doesn't know what the scent is, and he simply pulls Tooley's coat on before he leaves, door unlocked.

A few minutes later, a man with his hands over a barrel fire looks up to see a redheaded teenager in a woolen coat far too large for him move under a streetlamp, pausing to look up at it as if surprised by how bright its light is.

He blinks, and the man squints.

The young man's mouth is open, as if scenting the air by letting it roll over his tongue. Before the man can quite understand what he is looking at, the boy's mouth closes and he turns to look at the man. As his eyes shift from being lit by the lamp to draped in shadow, though...

They glow.

"Jesus, Mary, and Joseph," The man whispers, crossing himself hurriedly. "Saint Michael the Archangel, defend us in battle, b-be our protection against the wickedness and snares of the devil-"

The boy looks right at him, head tilted. The flames of the barrel flicker, hissing a little when raindrops start to fall. His lips pull back from his teeth and there are an animal's fangs there, plain as day.

The man feels pure horror at the sight of a demon walking free and unfettered in New York City. He grabs at the cross he wears around his neck and holds it out, his voice trembling. "May G-God... rebuke him, we humbly pray-"

"I, I, I hope that works for you," The boy says, and his voice is soft, and there's almost a lilt of the old country there that the man recognizes, not quite his own but not far off. "It never d-did for, um, for me. Don't worry. I'm... I'm full. You're, you're, you're in no danger from me. When, when, when, when... when did you come here? To this place?"

The man swallows around a lump in his throat, and yet he finds himself compelled to answer honestly. "Two years past, give or take. Came with m'wife and baby girl."

"From where?"

"... Kerry," He says, against his will. He can't seem to hold back the words. "And my wife grew up in County Cork."

The boy smiles, and his horrid teeth disappear when his lips press together. He looks for all the world like any other young man, a bit skinny perhaps and in need of a good meal or three, but no danger to anyone.

But the man has seen the demon that he is, and he finds himself grateful for the fire between them and the cross still in his hand, the shield of St. Michael and the cloak of Christ Himself.

"My, my, my, my parents were from County Cork," The demon boy says, lightly. His lilt is slightly stronger. "Wonder if we're cousins, your your wife and I. Maybe so. Stay home, um, after dark. Don't, don't, don't work when the sun is, um, is down."

The boy turns and walks away.

The man realizes with a start that in the midst of a chilly December night, the boy's feet are utterly bare. He steps over ice like he could walk on water.

There was blood smeared on the back of his coat.

The man flinches as he hears a sudden boom, close enough that he feels it in his chest as well as hearing the sound. A moment later a woman runs by shouting that a house has caught flame, to call for help.

The man looks back at the way the boy went.

He's gone.

-

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @insaneinthepaingame @keeper-of-all-the-random-things @burtlederp @finder-of-rings @newandfiguringitout @astrobly @endless-whump @pretty-face-breaker @gonna-feel-that-tomorrow @doveotions @boxboysandotherwhump @oops-its-whump @cubeswhump @whump-tr0pes @downriver914 @whumptywhumpdump @whumpiary @orchidscript @nonsensical-whump @outofangband @what-a-whump

[etherati]

Castlevania Fic Masterpost

Seemed worth doing, with fandom starting to wake up again.

The Wellspring Trilogy - Post S2 AU

Wellspring || Trephacard || Mature || 80,768 words || complete [[Wellspring (n): Where something begins. Trevor’s been throwing rocks and coins and shit into wells for most of his life, without any expectation of getting wishes granted or anything stupid like that. All he really wants is to know there's something down there.]]

Taproot || Trephacard || Mature || 167,812 words || complete [[Taproot (n): The oldest, most central root; that from which all else arises. Every family has its roots, diving down into the shadowy, secretive earth--and there's no such thing as a bloodless inheritance.]]

Polestar || Trephacard || Mature || 0 words || not yet started! [[Polestar (n) : The north star; a guiding principle; that which around all else turns. It's hard, finding your orbit around something larger than yourself. But in every night sky there is a light that guides, and eventually, gravity will have its way.]]

Other short Wellspring-verse stories

Careless || Trephacard || Teen || 850 words || complete [[So, Sypha’s the one who’d said it, however long ago—maybe in the market, maybe in the library, maybe in the bed the three of them share, sheltering against the cold and dark and all the truths that lurk around the edges of those things. She’d told him: watch your mouth, Belmont, or you will say something you regret, later.]]

Never || Trephacard || Teen || 610 words || complete [[“I swear to god,” he says, the god he barely believes in, though at the moment he’s considering it just to have one more person to rage at. “Of all the idiotic, selfish, reckless things the two of you have done—”]]

Pick You Up || Trephacard || Gen || 1658 words || complete [[Alucard's different forms each have advantages and disadvantages. Like, being a bat? Pretty cool! You can fly! Who cares if you have tiny hollow bones and no real mass at all and you're basically made of glass; that would NEVER COME UP, right?]]

Post S4

Four of Swords || Early Trephacard || Teen || 5987 words || complete [[From the Tarot Minor Arcana: The four of swords. The knight lies upon his own tomb, in rest and contemplation--rest to recover from his ordeal, and contemplation to understand how close he came to not surviving it. It is a time of recuperation, of peace, of repairing what was broken and strengthening what remains. Trevor doesn't realize, when he first comes home, how badly he'd been missed. He figures it out.]]

That other weird story

Our Possible Pasts || Trephacard || Teen || 12,122 words || in progress [[Having pinned Dracula's castle to the ground in Braila, our heroes set out on the long journey there, grow closer, learn about themselves and each other, and try to figure out how their feelings fit into the world. This isn't that story. Because before they ever make it to Dracula's door, they cock it all up in a fight they should have been able to handle, and whoops, they all die. And then wake up again, weeks before, on the eve of Gresit's fall. But something isn't right, and none of them find themselves in a life they recognize. This is the story of what happens after the heroes fall--and what can be, when we are given a chance to learn from our mistakes by seeing them from another person's perspective. Or: “Before you criticize someone, walk a mile in their shoes. That way, when you criticize them, you're a mile away and you have their shoes.”]]

[some-kindofgnome]

Kinktober #19: Paperback Romance: Eijirou Kirishima & Katsuki Bakugou

You, Kirishima, and Bakugou have some things to figure out. Luckily, you’ve got somewhere quiet to do it. 

Characters: Eijirou Kirishima/Katsuki Bakugou/f!Reader

Warnings: smut (18+ please!), aged up characters, fingering, awkward threesome, the softest bullshit you’ve ever seen

Notes: I... am not sure how I feel about this one. But we’ll see. I think I should change Kinktober to Mushtober, because as it turns out, I have a squishy heart. Today’s prompt was “Threesome,” and I had every intention of making this one filthy, I really did. But then this came out. There’s also, like, not a whole lot of talking in this one. Idk. It’s different.

Whoops. 

Kinktober Masterlist

The breeze is salted velvet on your cheeks as you race along the oceanside highway.

Bakugou’s been driving for the last hour and a half. You’re in the passenger’s seat and Kirishima’s stretched out in the back with the windows open. The ocean stretches brilliant and navy out the driver’s side. The distant cry of gulls backs the slow thump of the breeze past your window.

If this were any other road trip, you’d be blasting tunes. You and Kirishima would be singing your hearts out. Bakugou would probably still be driving, but he’d look a whole lot grumpier than he does right now.

For the last eighty miles, you’ve all been… quiet. It’s like the reality of this trip is finally starting to sink in.

Kirishima and Bakugou have been your best friends since high school. You crammed together, partied together, graduated together. You were the first one that they told when they’d decided to become more to each other.

You remembered that day above any other. The way your stomach dropped out. You’d known, you’d always known, but they’d never made it real before. For as long as you’d known each other it had been the three of you. But from that point on, it was them and you.

You’d never been able to pinpoint why that bothered you so much. Why your heart crunched just a little smaller, whenever they had to be a couple around you.

But on the night that it fell into place, it fell fast. You’d been in love with them, both of them, for as long as you had known them. It wasn’t enough that they had one another. You wanted to have them, too. Those feelings that had been bottled up for so long came spilling out one night, among tears and wine and bitter words that you’d wished you could take back.

But buried among all that bitterness and jealousy was the truth. They felt for you. The way you did for them. They’d only ever wanted it to be the three of you. But that gap felt unbridgeable.

Even now, just a few days later, it’s growing wider between you in the silence of the car.

You’d decided to take off for the weekend, drive somewhere remote where you could remove yourself from the prying eyes of the public and just figure everything out. That somewhere turned out to be a beach house well out of the city. You’d been on the road for hours.

The afternoon’s waning into evening by the time you pull up to it. It’s just as cute as the booking site promised- all whitewashed boards and sage green shutters- with a little path winding its way from the back porch to the ocean.

Kirishima- who, by this point, is just waking up from his backseat nap- speaks first.

“Wow, it’s cute!”

You and Bakugou both give a little sigh. He kills the engine, and you both step out and slam the doors shut at the same time. You’re both taking in the sight of the little cottage, and then you both peek over the roof of the car to glance at one another.

You skirt your gaze past him to the ocean beyond. It’s killing you that things have become so awkward between you. But that’s what this weekend is for- knocking down all those walls, all at once. Kirishima and Bakugou tell you that as soon as they had broken down their barriers, everything came naturally.

You’re just hoping it works the same way for you.

Bakugou cooks you dinner that night, and he’s still far more stoic than usual. Though his explosive temper has calmed down since your teenage days, he’s never been very good at expressing himself through words. You taste it in his cooking, though. When the three of you cluster together around one end of the dining table, things start to feel normal again.

Until all three of you volunteer eagerly to pitch in with the cleanup.

Finally, the kitchen is sparkling, the sun has set, and there’s nothing else to think about but the bedroom upstairs and the single king bed that the three of you have promised to share.

“Hey,” you speak up. Bakugou looks up from the paperback he’s been thumbing through. Kirishima peers inquisitively over the top of his phone at you. They both look so honestly interested in you it makes your heart break.

“Listen.” You can’t take the silence anymore. Silence isn’t you. Any of you. You’ve been able to talk to them about anything, for as long as you’ve ever known them.

But this is different.

“I just wanna know.” You scrape your fingers through your hair. Your cheeks are hot. You’re clamming up, something you’ve been doing far too often around them lately.

“Are either of you half as fucking nervous about this as I am?”

For a breath, there’s silence.

Then laughter.

You don’t know who started it but you’re finishing it, peals of relieved mirth bubbling from your chest. Kirishima crosses the room in an instant, climbing into the recliner, smothering you with a tight hug.

“We couldn’t sleep a wink last night,” he chuckles into your shoulder. Bakugou bristles across the room, but he doesn’t disagree.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he mumbles. “Let me take you upstairs.”

“Us,” gruffs Bakugou from across the room. Slowly, he shuts his book and rises from the couch. “Let us take you upstairs.”

You sit on the edge of the gigantic bed. The windows upstairs are all open with gauzy curtains fluttering inward, crisp cotton sheets damped down by the humid sea air.

Kirishima kisses you first. It’s not the first time it’s happened, but you’re far from used to it. His lips cover yours so gently it makes you ache. Especially when Bakugou grabs you by the jaw and pulls you to him, and his kiss is insistent and rousing and you feel yourself easing into it already.

They know each other’s bodies well. Seeing them together is like paging the worn paper of a well-loved book; spine creased, corners folded.

You’d like to know how this story ends.

You tumble into the sheets in a messy tangle of limbs. You’re not sure what to do with your hands as Bakugou licks into your teeth and Kirishima’s trailing kisses down your chest. His forehead bumps Bakugou’s thigh as he works to push your clothes away. You have to stop three times to untwist yourselves before you’re all stripped down to your underwear.

But they want this with you. They want to be all of you again.

You climb boldly between Bakugou’s thighs, cupping and stroking his thick cock where it stands out through his undershorts. Kirishima’s behind you, kissing his way down your back and peeling away the last shreds of your modesty.

“I haven’t been with a girl in a while,” he mumbles, kissing the swell of your hip. “Tell me if I hurt you.”

He slides a finger into you from behind, pumping slowly. Below you, Bakugou’s grabbed your hips and holds you fast against him, letting you rock your pleasure into his firm muscles. Kiri’s fingers move earnestly, dipping into your tight heat while his other hand finds the swell of your clit and begins to rub.

“Ah-“ Your voice breaks as your chin falls forward. Bakugou holds you tighter.

“That’s it, sweetness,” he gruffs in your ear. “Let him make you feel it.”

“Kiri,” you whine, “I’m not gonna- I can’t,”

“Go on,” Kirishima whispers against your skin. “You’re so beautiful like this. Y’know that? Let me see you break for me, baby.”

You come hard, as if on command. Your body quakes with pleasure as it races up your spine like a gunshot, tightening your thighs and making you bury your head in the crook of Bakugou’s shoulder as you scream.

They’re looking at one another over your shoulder- you can feel it. And when you stir to life again, Kirishima collapses beside you and Bakugou rolls you into the middle.

It’s complicated and awkward and messy, but the three of you find your pleasure that night. And you fall asleep in the same sweaty tangle of limbs with your boys on either side of you.

As apprehensive as you’ve been, as badly as this scared you for so many years, now that you’ve got it, it feels peaceful as the dawn. This, you, the three of you, is how it always should have been.

And you know nothing will tear your boys from you. Not anymore.

[caseyjonesisinthehouse]

hey i need to talk abt some camp camp shit bcause i have no one to vent to. (srsly if u see this and u wanna talk abt cc dm me i am lonely.) so yeah i want to take a good look at one episode in particular- episode 12 of season 4, the forest. (putting a ‘keep reading’ here bcause hoo boy is this shit long)

aight so first things first- how fucking long was david gone????? so we know he broke his leg, and pretty badly too.

look at that. bone fucking cronched. according to some base-level research i did, severe fractures can take BETWEEN THREE AND SIX MONTHS TO HEAL. even if we assume the horrific angle of the break is bcause its a cartoon, and it wasnt rly that bad, it would still take at least a month to heal.

another thing that points to how long he's been gone: where we see him when he's ready to go back to camp. look at this.

FUCKING LOOK AT THIS. this fucking twink has apparantly had enough time to not only partially heal from a severe fracture, but enough to also build all of this shit from the base up. i dont care how good he is at wilderness survival, that shit takes a fuck ton of time.

so yeah he basically spent a bare fucking minimum of two months away from camp.

im not gonna say we didnt get enough of a reaction from literally anyone tho. theres actually enough believable evidence to support the fact that theres a brief period of time we missed between when he returns to camp and when we see him back to his regular self. theres two main details that point towards this.

heres one of them-

he has an actual splint. its unclear whether he went to the hospital or not, but either way this proves that he's gotten at least somewhat professional help for his leg. maybe he saw a doctor, maybe gwen did it, i dont know, but for some reason i feel like he probably didnt do it himself. idk. anyway, theres something that took me a while to realise what was up with the reaction we got from the campers when we see david with them when he gets back.

the this is here is that no one reacts. like yeah niel and nerris look concerned, but thats about it. at first it might seem weird, but it actually makes more sense the longer you think about it. if theres a few days that we missed, its possible the campers would have been filled in on at least the basics of what happened to david.

so yeah theres that

theres a couple other things i wanna quickly run thru that im just gonna list here

david actually trying to land in the safest way possible when he falls from the cliff lookit ma boi flexin his knowledge

hE SMILES WHEN HE SEES THE NOTE MAX LEFT IN HIS WALLET AAAAA

im impressed the writers didnt make him an idiot for comedic effect he would absolutely know his way around the forest

bonus points for using lavender on the bee stings

how does my bitch not have ptsd or physical scars wtf

just the 'Whoops!' followed by the terror in his eyes like 'oh fuck'

i dont cry but i DO get emotionally wrecked seeing david slumped over in a canoe floating out of the lake

the way his eyes focus one after the other when he wakes up after being knocked out is... i mean i dont hate it, but its rly weird in like a good way?

and then the small 'huh?' followed by sheer terror

at one point he starts whistling the theme song and i luv it

bit of a yikes but im pretty sure getting slammed against a tree by a bear doesnt do any favours for ur ribs

wait how would he have made sure nothing got infected both for him and wolfie

also yeah pretty sure davids bi at this point just look at this bi lighting

oh yeah my favourite thing about this episode is that we learn even when david is broken down and literally staring down death he's still the same and being kind and caring is just in his nature

HE IS PURE RIGHT DOWN TO HIS LANKY TWINK-ASS CORE THATS WHO HE IS IN HIS MOST UNADULTERATED FORM I LOVE A BITCH

im more surprised than i should be that david carries around a swiss army knife

give my man his free smoothie

i love it when david looks up at the stars and smiles. this lil bitch loves nature and being out in the wilderness so freakin much

also im legally required to mention the fact he's probably thinking something along the lines of 'everyone at camp's looking at the same stars/sky i am' or some shit like that

he throws up way more water than is healthy. like yeah ok at least its out of him now but istg it is NOT ok to ingest that much unsafe water

oh yeah he also does most of the shit he does with a concussion. ive had a serious one before, and holy shit is it so hard to do literally anything, INCLUDING WALKING, without an insane headache and almost blacking out for at least the first few hours. like jesus christ how does david do the shit he does

he literally falls down a mountain. with multiple crunches.

holy fuck this man is allergic to bees normal bee stings do NOT swell up that much

i mean at least he's not anaphylactic? I dont think?? otherwise he'd probably be dead???

love the continuation of the 'david lists tree species while sleeping' joke this fucking dork

"Well, that's not the best.."

ok im dying because i know this one survival fact and im so goddamn glad david knows this too BUT when he sees some berries, he keeps walking. why? NEVER EAT BERRIES OR PLANTS IN THE WILD UNLESS YOU'VE SEEN SOMETHING ELSE EAT IT FIRST. you never know what effect certain plants will have, or if they're poisonous or not. always make sure you know for a fact its safe before consuming something. my bitch was so hungry, but he didnt eat the fucking berries bcause he knew there was a chance they could be harmful and there were no other animals around that could have shown him whether or not they were.

the pure fucking joy when he realises he's made it back to camp is just- omfg i cant

"No, I'm not- I didnt mean to scare you, just- im not- Just please don't- ᵀᴱᴸᴸ ᵞᴼur ᴹᴼᴹ"

'Whoops!' -it was at this moment, he knew: he fucked up.

this was almost certainly intentional but i like that theres a leitmotif that plays throughout the episode thats on guitar and david plays guitar

oh yeah as if he wasnt dealing with enough from being attacked by a wild animal, the probable ptsd from Jasper is also present bcause, yknow, getting slashed across the chest and falling down a ravine is what happened to jasper too. i mean not in that order but the point still stands

[canonicallyanxious]

like staring at the sun.

Druck | Kieu My/Fatou | 2.2k words

i’ve been working on this fic for so long it’s driving me BONKERS and idk when i’m going to finish it but i like what i have of it so thought i’d share the first scene of this wip so that in the off-chance i don’t finish it at least some of it will have seen the light of day at some point lol.

Summer romance au in which the instas and cashqueens never really crossed paths but Kieu My and Fatou live in the same building because why not. on its own i think this scene kind of functions as a nice meet cute. hope you guys enjoy!

E 11/30/21: a little bit late in adding this whoops shdjdhdhd but in case you missed it the full version of this fic can now be found here on ao3! Check it out for more super gay summer romance shenanigans!

It was half past seven on an early summer evening, which meant it was still light and still unbearably hot outside. It was better than being inside, though. Inside was too quiet - too stagnant. Standing on the corner of the street outside her building didn’t change that Kieu My had no plans this Friday night or that everyone, even her parents, had left her alone today. But at least with the hum of the vibrant city pressing in on her and the warmth of the evening sun of her skin it was easier to convince herself that something was happening to someone, somewhere out there.

(It was nice to pretend that thought was enough, if only for a little while.)

Her phone stayed silent and still in her pocket. Which was far from surprising. Constantin was on some sort of retreat for the summer; Ismail was working for a distant uncle in Hamburg; Finn was out of town with his family, and Zoe was with him. This month Kieu My was the only one still left in Berlin. Working at her parents’ store, listening to music in the lonely darkness of her room, waiting for the end of summer and the start of university. Waiting for her life to begin.

(Some part of her didn’t quite know whether to believe it would ever happen.)

Something itched under her collarbone. Kieu My reached into her bag, somewhat relieved to find she had remembered to stick her half-empty box of cigarettes in there. But her lighter. She’d left it on her nightstand, she was certain of it. That was what she got, she supposed, for acting on an impulse this once.

Kieu My tilted her face back toward the fading sky and closed her eyes. How badly did she want to smoke? More pressingly, did she want it enough to go up and down four flights of stairs to circumvent a lift that was broken more often than it wasn’t? Debatable. Or maybe it wasn’t. It had been a bit of a trek to get out here. Maybe she didn’t want to leave just yet.

If she really thought about it, she didn’t know that she was in the habit of wanting anything like that. Enough to make sacrifices, anyway. Or take risks. 

(Most days it seemed easier not to waste the energy.)

The sound of plastic wheels scraping against hard pavement jarred Kieu My from her thoughts. Her eyes flew open as a girl stumbled to a stop in front of her, the skateboard under her feet nearly but not quite sliding away across the sidewalk. Her hair was pulled into two tight buns on either side of her head like she was some sort of space princess, sleeves of her blue hoodie rolled up to her elbows and intricate jewelry in her ears glinting in the light of the evening sun. Kieu My recognized her - Fatou Jallow, who lived on the top floor of her building and had gone to her high school. In her own year, if she wasn’t mistaken. The skateboard skidded to an abrupt halt as Fatou stopped it with the toe of her sneaker. She looked up and met Kieu My’s eyes.

“Oh,” she said, a little breathlessly. “Hi.”

“Hey,” Kieu My said.

They considered each other, for a moment. Fatou didn’t move.

Neither did Kieu My. Instead she tilted her head and said, “Do you have a light?”

Fatou seemed to consider the question seriously, eyebrows knitting together and mouth pursing for a few seconds before her face relaxed into a bright smile. “Think so,” she said. “Need it?”

Kieu My took a cigarette out of her bag and held it out to Fatou between two fingers. “Something like that.”

Fatou reached down to grab her skateboard and dug into her pocket with her other hand. After a bit of rummaging she made a happy little sound under her breath and pulled out a plastic blue lighter. She thumbed at it and the flame jumped to life, small but steady in the light breeze. Her hands cupped it gently as she brought it to the tip of the cigarette. Kieu My could almost feel the warmth of Fatou’s palms against her knuckles. 

Or maybe it was the heat of fire. Either way, it was wishful thinking. 

(Except she didn’t quite know which she wished for it to be.)

“Thanks,” Kieu My said. She brought the cigarette up to her lips and took in a long drag, the faint burn in her lungs pleasant in its familiarity.

“Yeah, no problem.” Fatou looked down at her feet. “I, um… I didn’t expect to meet you out here.”

Kieu My raised an eyebrow. She hadn’t expected Fatou to talk to her in the first place, and yet here they were. “Why not?”

Fatou scratched the back of her neck, the gesture almost bashful. “You’re usually with your friends, aren’t you?”

Kieu My exhaled, the smoke billowing from her mouth in a long plume. “Wow,” she said, the corner of her mouth quirking into a smile. “Have you been keeping tabs on me or something?”

Fatou’s eyes widened. Which was kind of sweet, somehow. “I - no, I promise. I didn’t mean it like that. I mean - just, you… you guys are hard not to notice. That’s all.”

Kieu My shouldn’t have been surprised to hear something like that, all things considered. She and her friends had a reputation, she knew - had been quite careful in shaping it herself, in fact. All the time she’d spent editing her Instagram posts, every conversation and well-placed laugh she’d rehearsed in the back of her head had all been for a singular purpose. All to seem cool in an effortless way, to be the kind of person you wanted to party with on a weekend night not really because they actually wanted you there - after all, nothing was less cool than desperation - but because they straight up did not give a fuck.

(To be known, to be seen - that had been her goal all along, hadn’t it?)

But still - she kind of was surprised to hear it from Fatou. She didn’t know her that well beyond being a friend of her best friend’s sister who happened to live in her building. They were something adjacent to neighbors, in a weird way, both literally speaking and not. Familiar mostly by proximity. And yet to her Fatou had always kind of seemed - above it all. The cliques, the popularity games, the almost compulsive desire to be liked. She’d never really struck Kieu My as the kind of person who gave a fuck about what other people thought. In a real way, a way that went beyond posturing. A way that was actually true.

If she thought about it - really thought about it - maybe Fatou was hard not to notice, either, for an entirely different reason.

(Maybe she kind of envied her for that reason.)

“No worries, I was just kidding.” She could feel herself smiling again. “Nah, they’re all out of town. I’m the only one of us around this month.”

“Oh.” Fatou paused. “Me too, actually. Of my friends, I mean.”

Kieu My nodded, and sat down at the curb. With her free hand she gestured for Fatou to join her, watched as she slowly took a seat a few inches away. Their eyes met, briefly; Kieu My looked away first.

“What’ve you been up to, then?” she said to the empty street. It wasn’t her most elegant conversation starter, but honestly she didn’t usually do this kind of thing - try to make small talk with a girl she barely knew instead of just walking away and going back up to her apartment. Maybe she would have done that on a different day.

(Or if she wasn’t feeling so pathetically lonely.)

Fatou dropped her skateboard to the pavement and stretched her legs out so that her feet rested on the board, the wheels moving back and forth as she rocked her feet absently from side to side. “Putting in extra hours at the animal shelter,” she said. “I like it there.”

Kieu My hummed tunelessly. “I didn’t know you worked there. You like animals?”

She hazarded a glance at Fatou, just in time to see her burst into a grin. “I’m just a volunteer for now, but yeah, it’s nice.” Fatou propped her chin on her elbow, the look in her eyes bright and lively. “I get to take care of them and every day I learn something new. It’s kind of peaceful to watch them move around their little spaces and think about the lives they lead. Everyone likes to think things are so much simpler for them than for us, but I don’t know about that. Don’t they have feelings, too?”

Kieu My could feel herself staring at her. She didn’t really know what to say to something like that. She didn’t think she’d ever had thoughts like that.

(They were - kind of beautiful.)

Fatou seemed to notice Kieu My’s silence. Her smile faded, a little. “Sorry,” she said. “I, um… didn’t mean to go on like that.”

Something nameless clenched in Kieu My’s chest. “It’s okay.” Her mind was unhelpfully blank as she grasped for something else - anything at all - to say. She needed time to think of an adequate answer - how to tell Fatou she had nothing to apologize for, Kieu My didn’t mind listening to her talk, actually kind of didn’t want her to stop; but in the right way, a way that wasn’t awkward or creepy or condescending or any number of things she could be misinterpreted as, because if there was one thing she didn’t want in this moment it was to be misinterpreted - but now everything was silent between them, and Fatou had stopped anyway.

Her fingers tightened around her cigarette, and she glanced down at it. 

“Want a hit?” she said, holding it out to Fatou.

Fatou blinked, then shrugged. “Sure.” She reached out to take it, and their fingers brushed. Then she brought the cigarette to her mouth, and Kieu My looked away again.

“It’s really cool, though,” Kieu My said, her voice coming out a bit softer than she’d meant it to. If she didn’t know any better - if she had said something that meant anything at all - she might think it sounded like a confession. “You sound like you care a lot about it.”

Fatou huffed out a laugh. “Yeah, I guess.” She took in another drag. “Do you have anything like that?”

“I don’t know.” Kieu My hugged her arms around her knees. “The stars, maybe.”

“Really?” Fatou sounded surprised.

Which made sense, Kieu My supposed. They really didn’t know that much about each other.

“Yeah,” Kieu My said with a shrug, as casually as she could. “I’m studying astrophysics this coming fall. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do.”

Fatou let out a low whistle. “Wow. Do you have a reason or do you just think it’s cool?”

Kieu My leaned her head back to the sky. It was too early in the night to see any stars out here, and would be that way for at least a few more hours. Still - just because she couldn’t see them didn’t mean they weren’t there. They existed in multitudes, an infinity of burning miracles she could probably never fully comprehend. She would never know all of their names; statistically speaking the vast majority of them probably didn’t even have names. But it comforted her, in a way, to think of all these stars and planets in galaxies she’d never see spinning on and on in celestial dances she would never know. They didn’t need to be known to exist. Long after this world was dead the rest of the universe would still be out there. Beyond recognition; beyond understanding.

(She’d always kind of wondered what that would be like.)

“There’s a lot we don’t know about what’s up there,” Kieu My said. “I think most people find that a little scary.”

She saw Fatou’s head turn toward her out of the corner of her eye. “And you?”

“I think it’s…” Kieu My searched for the right word. “Inspiring.”

Chasing after infinity had always seemed easier, somehow, than most other things.

(At least she could be certain the stars were something she could never touch.)

“Huh.” Fatou offered the cigarette back to Kieu My. “You’re probably right.”

Kieu My glanced down at the cigarette as she took it. It was quickly burning down to a stub, and in a few moments she would have to put it out. 

“Well,” Kieu My began, at the same time that Fatou said, “So...”

They looked at each other for a stunned moment. Then Fatou burst into laughter, hand covering her mouth, and Kieu My felt herself smile in response. Strange, she thought hazily. It was easier than it should be.

(Like a flower opening up to the sun.)

“You first,” Fatou said, eyes twinkling.

Kieu My took in a breath. She knew what she wanted to say. And as soon as she realized that another thought flashed through her mind, ephemeral as lightning.

Was this a sacrifice, or was it a risk?

(Or was it something else entirely?)

She opened her mouth.

“Do you want to get out of here?”

The words tingled on her tongue, in her lungs. Like her whole body had been struck with something unreal.

Fatou grinned; and her skin grew hotter.

Like staring at the sun.

“Funny,” Fatou said. “I was going to say the same exact thing.”

[amjustagirl]

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven. ~ eight.

Wordcount: 2k

Summary: Being with Miya Atsumu is like chasing a storm - equal parts exhilaration and danger. After all, it’s impossible to tame a storm

Masterlist here 

AO3 link here

Author’s Note: And we’re at the penultimate chapter! Am rly excited to hear what you guys think - so please, drop me an ask, a note, a comment, anything!!! Thank you for following this fic with me <3

He stays away from her over the next two weeks. He still picks Shino up from childcare - he’s never leaving his little girl again - but takes Osamu’s advice to duck into the kitchen the minute he hears the bell chime to mark her entrance into the shop. 

‘Is everything alright with Atsumu?’ he hears her ask Osamu after a week of radio silence from him. 

He imagines Osamu just shrugs, because his twin later gives him a look of askance that he ignores. 

‘Meet me on Sunday afternoon? Was hoping to have a quick chat and pass something over to you since my arm is out of its sling.Osamu agreed to take Shino for a couple of hours, so don’t worry about her’, he texts her. 

‘Fine’, she texts back. ‘Works for me’. 

‘Hey’, he greets her as she opens the door, fighting the impulse to scruff his shoes into the ground like a nervous schoolboy on his first date. 

‘Hey yourself’, she responds without heat, slipping on her shoes. ‘Shall we?’ 

He nods, turning on his heel and she follows suit, their footfalls matching in pace, though they angle their bodies to avoid each other’s gaze in the lift. They do not exchange a single word until they reach the car park, and he leads her past all the cars to a dim corner, lit by a single flickering electric bulb.  

‘Atsumu - what’s this?’ she says, staring uncomprehendingly at the motorbike parked in front of her, the exact replica of the bike she sold when she got pregnant with Shino, albeit updated with a shining coat of new paint and the latest modifications, top of the line. 

‘Surprise?’ he tells her, unable to hide a grin when she runs a hand reverently over the seat of the bike. 

‘I can’t accept this, ‘Tsumu. It’s too much’, she demurs but he knows she’s fallen in love when she’s unable to tear her eyes away from the bike.

‘Sure ya can! I registered it under yer name, and paid for the parking fees for the year, and look! It even comes with a helmet!’, he assures her, crossing his fingers behind his back. ‘Ya can ride it whenever ya have time to yerself - I’ll make sure I or ‘Samu will take Shino-chan for a couple hours every weekend so ya can go break some speed limits on the bike!’ 

‘This isn’t a bribe, right? Or some attempt to trick me into agreeing into something I don’t want to do?’ she asks him suspiciously. 

‘No - no tricks, I swear on my life. Look - I’ve signed the divorce papers, they’re in my bag. I just wanted to give ya the bike as a partin' gift’, he says, keeping his voice deliberately light. 

She stares at him, searching his face for any sign of duplicity, but he holds her gaze until she turns away, satisfied. 

‘You never do anything by halves, do you ‘Tsumu? But thank you anyway’, she laughs breathily and his heart lurches to a start when he sees her slowly start to glow whilst fussing over the bike, exclaiming to herself as she admires the paint job and the extra compartments he’d gotten the mechanic to install. 

Watching her brings back memories of their adventures together before Shino came along. She’d pick him up for a ride to the outskirts of Osaka on their rare days off, in search for a spot to lay their picnic mat down and shoot the breeze. They’d never found that perfect picnic spot, but that just meant that there were more places to explore, more roads to traverse, more adventures for them to go on. That’d all stopped once Shino came along, and he wonders if they wouldn’t be in such a state if he’d put in more effort to carve out more time for them.   

And even before that - there was the time she’d surprised him by turning up in Kobe for one of his matches, sweeping him away from his confused teammates right after the match to celebrate over egg mayo sandwiches at 7-11. He suspects that was the day he’d fallen in love with her, half realising that she was probably the only person crazy enough to burn hours on the road on the back her rusty old bike right after an exam, just to stay up all night sitting cross-legged in a dim combini with mayo in her hair, listening to him ramble about his volleyball match. 

Wow. 'Samu's right. Even the reason he fell in love with her was fucking selfish. 

‘Hey ‘Tsumu’, he hears her say after a while and he looks up. ‘Wanna go for a ride?’ she asks brightly, twirling the keys around her finger. 

‘Huh?’ he responds, genuinely perplexed. 

‘A ride, you idiot. Don’t you want to find out how the bike feels on the road, especially since you’re the one who paid for it?’ 

‘Sure’, he says, a little lost - but then again she’s always found ways to keep him on his toes. ‘But there’s only one helmet’. 

‘I still have my old one upstairs. Give me a second so I can get it!’ she rushes off, a spring in her step he’s sorely missed seeing and despite the ache in his heart, he smiles. 

His smile vanishes the moment she kicks the bike full throttle and hurtles through weekend Osaka traffic at breakneck speed, making such sharp turns he almost falls off the bike if he weren’t already clutching her waist for dear life. ‘Oi! Look out!’ he yelps, as she weaves her way through narrow gaps between cars, seemingly deaf to the horns of outraged drivers behind her - and fuck he wants to puke but can’t because there’s no way that doesn’t end badly for him. 

‘Slow down, you fuckin' maniac’, he manages to shout when his stomach gives itself up for dead, but the wind swallows his words and she only whoops in response. The neon city lights blur into a mess of colours and he runs through his repertoire of curse words. He swears she’s evil - it’s not enough that she’s killed him once by divorcing him, her insane riding is going to make sure he’s doubly dead.

They burst onto the highway in a squeal of tires, the city skyline fading into a sea of lights, and they’re both so focused on the road ahead of them, well – she is, at least, he’s trying his level best to stay on his seat - that neither of them notice the dark clouds gathering above until the first splatter of raindrops on the road. 

The sky is threatening enough to make her swerve off the highway into a quiet neighbourhood, screeching to a halt at the nearest park with an empty shelter large enough to fit both of them. They jump off the bike, helmets dangling over their arm, and she catches hold of his hand as they splash their way through muddy puddles in a bid to escape the incoming storm. 

‘That was amazing!’ she laughs when they reach shelter, twirling on the tips of her feet, cheeks flushed pink with excitement, looking so happy and bright and alive -  like a bird spreading its wings to fly high in the sky, the way she used to be before their marriage broke her wings and shackled her to the ground. 

If only he hadn’t been blinded by the false allure of his dreams to appreciate what was right in front of him - a woman bold enough to whisk him away from the clutches of deranged fans on the back of a motorbike, fierce enough for Osamu to assign her to deal with his bullshit - and most of all, crazy enough to marry and have a child with him. And he knows she isn’t his, not anymore, but he's a greedy, selfish man, and he wants her one last time, so he throws his jacket over her shoulders as a pretext for drawing her close to him, slanting his mouth gently over hers. 

She stills for a second, and he’s about to pull away when she melts into him, tilting her chin up to grant him greater access to her lips. An unexpected heat coils in his stomach when she tangles her fingers in his hair, scraping her nails against his scalp, a thrill running down his spine as he loses himself in her familiar softness and warmth and groans.

She gasps, jerking away from him, tracing her bruised lips with her fingers, looking up at him with wide eyes.

‘Tsumu’, she begins to say, but he cuts her off, frantic with worry that he’s scared her off before he’s had the chance to say his piece. 

‘I’m sorry - I know I shouldn’t have but I just...can I just say what I meant to say to ya before this?’ he asks, banking on the fact that she hasn’t slapped him yet, and to his relief, she nods. 

‘I’ve thought about what ya said, and yer right -  I’ve taken so much from ya I don’t deserve to ask ya for anything else, not when I should be the one making it up to ya for the rest of my life,’ he says, his heart cracking beneath his ribs (so it’s true, a heart can actually break) – because he knows now she’s lost to him, has been the second he'd forsaken his vows and stormed out of her life, but he gulps a breath to calm his pulse, forcing himself to continue on. 

‘All I want is for ya to be happy and free - and if signing these papers is the price I have to pay, I’ll do it for ya’. Then he draws the brown envelope from his bag, holding it out to her with shaking hands. 

She makes no move to take it from him. 

‘Do you even love me, ‘Tsumu?’ she asks, her voice feather light, a wisp in the wind. ‘Be honest with me, you don’t have to lie’.

There’s a searing pain in his chest and he closes his eyes, losing himself to the undercurrent of regret pulsing in his mind. 

‘I do’, he manages to choke out, peeling aside the rotting layers of vanity and greed and selfishness and pride to flay his chest open to present his heart to her, in all its bleeding, broken glory. 

‘Yer everythin’ I could’ve ever asked for, and it’s killin’ me to watch you walk away - but I deserve it cos I’m a fuckin’ idiot for not realisin’ that sooner, and ya have no idea how fuckin’ sorry I am for hurting ya so badly and making you think that I don’t love ya - because I do, gods, I do, I love ya so goddamned much.’

‘Does our marriage mean that much to you?’ she stares at him, her eyes clouded with an emotion he can’t make out. 

‘Yes’, he says simply, his response both a confession and a prayer. He makes no move to touch her, fearful that any misstep might tip them both over the edge, the storm of emotions swirling within him already threatening to swallow him whole. 

‘Then ask me again, ‘Tsumu’ she whispers, her fists clenched, trembling by her side.    

He blinks at her, but his confusion morphs into elated disbelief when she takes the brown envelope from him and rips it cleanly in half. 

Oh. 

‘Ask me again, ‘Tsumu’, she repeats, the clouds in her eyes clearing into pools of light. He wonders if it mirrors the rush of warmth and love and most of all - hope, overflowing in his heart. 

‘Wanna try jumping off a cliff again?’ he asks, voice shaking, echoing the request he made of her years ago.

She steps forward into his waiting arms, her smile like golden sunlight spilling through grey rain.  

‘Only if you promise to jump with me’, she says softly against his chest. 

He catches her forgiveness desperately in his hands, and seals his promise with his lips. 

[it9chi]

emergency contact hcs

alternative title: it’s been awhile since you two broke up and until now neither of you changed your contact information for various reasons and because of this you are still saved as the emergency contact

kageyama: 

kageyama would either be working out or sleeping when he suddenly gets a call from a random number in the middle of the night

say like.. 2-3 am

mf wouldn’t even look at the caller when answering cs its either he got interrupted during his sessions or he got woken up

he groggily answers the phone and winces when he hears loud club music from the other end just dampening his mood a bit more lol

“is this kageyama tobio?” he hears the other line ask

kageyama suddenly sits up straight like wtf happened this time

mind you this mf doesnt even go to clubs so why would anyone in a club or some party area call him let alone get his number

“yeah. who is this?” is what kageyama replies

“sorry to bother you at this time but you are the emergency contact of miss y/n l/n and i’m here to inform you that she is passed out drunk at (club location) so if you don’t mind please pick her up for her own safety”

without a second thought, kageyama agrees and grabs his keys to his car and basically pressed on the gas and zoomed at the said location

he doesnt even realize how worried he was til he noticed how his grip on the steering wheel was so tight his knuckles turned white

even if you two broke it off, he still genuinely deeply cares for you to this extent of picking your ass up at some club doing god knows what

kageyama has probably began overanalyzing the situation and thinking it was his fault on why you were acting like this

when he arrives at the club, thankfully you were still there with the bartender

you were slouched on the bar with shot glasses surrounding you

“i just miss him so much” you cried to the bartender. “i mean i gave him everything! he was my first he even took away my goddamn virginity and yet..” you paused, lips quivering, as the thought of kageyama breaking up with you replayed in your head like a broken record

“y/n” kageyama speaks up after eavesdropping at your little rant to the bartender

you whip your head up and lo and behold, it was the guy who broke your heart. the reason why you’re in this club for the 4th time this week

“t-tobio?” you stuttered, suddenly feeling sober

kageyama cringes at the sight. your hair was all tousled, your eyebags are prominent making it look like you’ve cried for weeks or you had no sleep

but he assumes you did both only making him guiltier

kageyama walks up to you and drapes his jacket over your exposed shoulders

“let’s go home yeah?” he says quietly. you don’t say anything but let him take you home

before you two leave the bar, he thanks the bartender for keeping you safe and sound by the time he arrived (tipping him of course)

you woke up with a killer headache the next morning on his bed with a million questions running through your mind

suna: 

you and suna had a rough breakup

there were a lot of unanswered questions and overall you two got toxic real quick just a little after suna went pro

you don’t even know why or how it happened

suna would suddenly come home all stressed and shit and wouldnt utter a word to you and the next morning he’d be back to the suna you once knew

this became a reoccuring thing where it all just piled up and boom! mf called it quits after YEARS being together

and because of this abrupt occurrence in your relationship,

(you’ve broken up a few times before this btw)

he seemed to be genuinely done with the relationship (for now is what you think lol)

so you were the bitter ex girlfriend

tweeting and sharing abt very obvious and shady things abt your relationship with suna n the such

when the twins found out oh boy were they in for a surprise

you kept posting abt being single and free and all that shit but everyone knows whats the jist anyway

you two will come back to each other eventually 

suna was also being bitter and lowkey started to talk shit abt ur relationship (only to the twins tho cs suna isn’t THAT bitter)

+ the twins know its bullshit anyway lmfao

cs u also talk shit abt suna to them 

back to the story !! 

you’ve posted something very uhh you know.. something that you know suna has to come back crawling to you

so you posted on your instagram story abt ur halloween costume for this year

ironically enough u and suna had this halloween pact where y’all would dress up as couple characters and everyone on the tl always found it cute but sadly for now you are single

so you posted a very sexc selfie of u wearing mai’s costume from rascal does not dream abt bunny girl senpai

suna obviously saw this and was salty abt how you looked like that WITHOUT him

so he was mad,,, at himself and at you for some whackass reason

and to deal with his anger, he resolved into practicing volleyball surpass his limits

(mf thot he was deku or smth) 

because of this he sprained his ankle rlly badly that he ended up on the hospital

and since he didnt bother to change your contact info, you were still the emergency contact

that means you got contacted by the hospital at 11 pm 

IMMEDIATELY you rushed to the hospital cs wtf happened to your (ex)boyfriend

and when you arrived at the emergency room, you see suna sitting on the bed with his leg elevated 

“whoops” is what all suna says when he watches you go through a rollercoaster of emotions

you didn’t exactly know if you wanted to cry, laugh or be angry at his situation

laugh cs mf deserved it for breaking ur heart

cry cs u thought something really bad happened to him

angry that he pushed himself too hard for volleyball

you sat next to him and waited for his doctor to tell you what happened and what needs to be done

the doctor basically tells you suna just needs to stay at home til his leg heals before he can start playing again and you just need to be with him to take care of him n shit

nothing much tbh

just missing a lot of practice and you being around again

something he genuinely misses but acts like he doesnt

on the inside suna was glad he just needs to stay at home cs that means he can destress for a little longer and that you were there, maybe he can get you back

[redhoodedwolf]

“Oh shit I just spilled you coffee everywhere” sterek prompt

The first time Stiles made coffee for his boss, he was halfway to a panic attack, which was a weird thing to be anxious over. Except for the fact that his boss was Derek Hale. And Derek Hale liked his coffee made by one person in the office only, and that was Erica Reyes, his old assistant.

Stiles had always been told he was shit at making coffee. It was the one thing he’d lied about being good at in order to get this job.

Thankfully, Erica still worked for Hale Corp, just under a different position, so Stiles had struck a deal with her. She would have Derek’s coffee ready for him every morning so he could pass it off as his own. In return, he had to keep her up to date on all Derek gossip, apparently the one fun thing her new job lacked.

Easy decision. Stiles shook his soul away, but he got Derek his coffee every morning, and had even seen him smile a few times.

All was well for a few weeks, up until Jackson Douchemore came back from an extended business trip. Stiles knew Jackson from outside of the job, because he was friends with Lydia. Jackson also knew Stiles and knew exactly how to ruin his day, just because he could.

Feet from Derek’s office, Jackson rounded the corner, an evil look in his eyes, and proceed to trip Stiles, sending him and the coffee to the floor.

“Whoops,” Jackson crowed.

Derek stuck his head out of his office, stopping Stiles form either punching Jackson in the face or just melting through the ground and ceasing to exist.

Jackson’s triumphant look cowed under Derek’s glare. “Whittemore, call maintenance and have them clean this up before it stains too badly. And bring Stiles your extra shirt.” Jackson opened his mouth, probably to protest, but Derek added, “Now,” and the blond was gone.

“You okay?”

Stiles looked up at Derek and tried to ignore his brain adding angel wings and a halo to Derek’s figure. “Yeah, yeah, fine. Sorry about your coffee.”

“It’s fine. Just rinse out the mug and make it again, after you get changed.”

“Right.” Stiles froze. “Wait. Again?”

Derek smirked. “The company is doing well enough that every employee can have more than one cup a day. It won’t break the bank.”

“Ha! Right!” Stiles jumped to his feet and took the plain white button up that Jackson threw at him as he passed. “I’ll just go change and do that!”

He swiped the mug from the floor and raced for the kitchen. Depositing the mug in the sink, he swung around the corner into the Men’s and undid his shirt, wincing at the stain that would never come out. Stiles was keeping Jackson’s shirt forever, he owed him a new one anyway.

One problem solved. Now...

Stiles stared at the mug of steaming coffee. Easy part done, he just had to press the buttons on the machine. Now came the cream and sugar. How many spoonfuls of sugar does Erica usually add? Three? Dammit, he should have taken notes!

Creamer was easier, at least. He added until the coffee looked like the right lighter shade, then stopped, stirring it all together. Okay, maybe the coffee was a touch lighter than usual, but maybe Derek wouldn’t notice and would just be happy he had coffee at all? Right, sure.

Stiles was going to be fired over coffee.

To amuse himself, Stiles played a funeral dirge in his head as he trudged to Derek’s office, eyes peeled for sneaky Jacksons.

Stiles knocked on the office door, and Derek called him in.

“Coffee!” Stiles declared, lowering the mug onto Derek’s coaster at the corner of his desk.

“Thanks,” Derek said, a small smile given to Stiles. His eyes flicked down, then back up. He cleared his throat. “Shirt looks good on you.”

Stiles glanced down. It was maybe a bit tight. Stiles had shoulders where Jackson had none, so it stretched a bit (it was probably fitted, the rich bastard), but it was wearable for sure.

“Certainly nicer than anything I can afford,” Stiles agreed.

Derek reached for the mug and Stiles flinched back.

“Right, I’ll just...” he jerked his thumb behind him to the door.

“Actually if you wait just a second, I just have to moved the files onto this flashdrive, but then could you take it down to Argent for me?”

“Sure, no problem,” Stiles rushed to say, rocking back and forth on his heels.

Derek brought the mug to his lips, tilted it to sip, and Stiles stared.

Derek glanced up, lips detaching from the mug’s rim. “Everything okay?”

“Yep!” Stiles squeaked.

Derek took a long drag of the coffee this time and then sighed. Stiles’ shoulders relaxed. Somehow he’d managed it. Miracle of miracles. 

Derek handed him the flashdrive seconds later, and Stiles was out of there.

*

Jackson had not given up, it seems, on his venture to get Stiles fired through coffee, because he struck again the week after.

“Oh, was that yours? My bad, I thought it was old so I dumped it,” Jackson said, Derek’s mug upside down over the kitchen sink, the last drips hitting the metal basin with a sad plop.

“What the fuck, Jackson?” Stiles hissed, looking back to see if Erica was still around and could remake the mug she’d expertly crafted, but she was gone. He tore the mug from Jackson’s hands. “Seriously, go to therapy. It’ll do you wonders.”

Stiles violently threw a new pod into the Keurig and shoved the mug under the spout before turning back to the snake of a man. “Who knows, maybe Lydia will take you back then.”

Jackson’s face shut down, and he turned and left the kitchen without another word.

Not letting the guilt get to him, because Jackson deserved what he’d said, Stiles reached for the sugar and creamer, once again going to guess Derek’s flavor combination.

It looked to be the correct shade this time, and Derek hadn’t said anything against it last time, so maybe he wasn’t such a coffee snob?

“I bring good juice and good news, both piping hot,” Stiles declared upon entering Derek’s office.

Derek stared at him for a moment, lips parted, before his mouth snapped shut and he gestured Stiles to come forward. “Hot. Yes?”

“The good news is that someone is going to be calling today about her United States debut,” Stiles sang, setting Derek’s mug down on its space.

Derek’s eyes lit up. “Cora?”

Stiles nodded. “Mhmm. It’s already in your schedule and everything. I scheduled it right before lunch, in case you want extra time to talk with her about, you know, logistics.” Stiles waved a hand.

Derek took a gentle sip of his coffee, eyes slipping closed, clearly happy to discuss his sister’s joining of the company. Stiles may have stared at the happy-bliss look for too long. He averted his eyes just in time.

“Thank you, Stiles.”

Stiles shrugged his shoulders, hands shoved into his pockets. “Just my job.”

Stiles left the office then, closing the door behind him and taking a steadying breath. His heart should not be going so wild. Derek was his boss. It was totally unprofessional.

“Stilinski.”

Stiles’ spine went ramrod straight, and he turned towards the sharp voice of Jackson, ready to give as good as he got, when he saw the other man’s face and he paused.

Jackson wouldn’t meet his eyes. “You really think therapy will help me get her back?” He sounded like a broken man. 

Stiles groaned loudly and slumped over in half, head pressing against Jackson’s chest.

Derek popped his head out of his office, asking what the noise was about.

Stiles didn’t have the energy to move off of Jackson’s unfairly sculpted torso, just waved his hand in Derek’s direction. “Just releasing my pride.”

Jackson awkwardly patted him on the back, and Stiles raised his head enough to give him a tight-lipped smile.

Derek said nothing for a moment, but then his office door closed swiftly with an audible click.

“Okay, dude, let’s reconvene at lunch, eh? We’ll talk it out then.”

Jackson nodded tersely and then turned around and went back to his office. Stiles wanted to groan again, but apparently Derek didn’t like it, going by the practical slam of his soft-close door, so he held back and decided to save it for later.

*

The third time was truly all Stiles. He’d grown out of his clumsy ways after high school, but he still had the occasional twitch that caused a commotion.

He supposed he could blame Derek too, but he couldn’t blame another man for his reactive emotions. 

It had been two weeks since Jackson and Stiles had met for lunch and Stiles listened to Jackson for perhaps the first time in his life. He’d recommended a psychologist, gently suggested anger management classes, and promised he’d put in a good word with Lydia and assured Jackson that she was single and wasn’t interested in anyone else. 

Since then, Jackson had gone back to mostly ignoring his presence, which Stiles was fine with. But they greeted each other in the halls when they passed. The one time Derek and Jackson were having a meeting and Stiles had come in to deliver mail, Derek had stared with wide eyes at the smile Jackson gave him when asking how his day was going. 

So that issue was solved. Stiles thought he was in the clear. Shame on him, really.

He held Derek’s mug securely in his hands, reveling in the warmth from the drink. It had been a cold walk from the bus this morning, and the coffee was finally zapping the lingering cold from his phalanges. 

Stiles raised a fist to knock on Derek’s door, but heard someone’s voice first. And not Derek’s.

Now, Stiles was Derek’s assistant, so he had a right to be a bit nosy into who was ruining his perfect schedule for Derek, right? 

Stiles unashamedly pressed his ear against the door.

“You should take him,” Derek said, then added something else Stiles couldn’t catch.

The other person in the room laughed, and Stiles realized it was Cora. She did start work on Monday, so it made sense for her to be here to get everything squared away. Still...

“... can’t be his boss anymore...”

“Why?”

“Cora... better suited...”

“Sure, that’s why...coffee?”

Stiles startled, the voice much louder than it had been, and he didn’t step away in time before the door opened. The mug flew from his hand, thankfully away from other people, and once more the carpet was stained. 

“Oh no! I’m so sorry, Stiles!”

Stiles recovered the thankfully unbroken mug from the floor and stared dejected at its emptiness. “Nope, that was all on me. I was, um, not paying enough attention to hear you?”

“I’ll call maintenance. You go bring my brother his lifeblood,” she joked. 

Derek stood in the doorway, face surprisingly blank, and Stiles wondered if Derek had guessed he’d been eavesdropping. 

“I’ll be right back, Stiles mumbled and escaped. Because the look on Derek’s face was worrisome. Why would Derek need to hide his emotions regarding their conversation from Stiles, unless...

“Shit, I made him shit coffee twice and now I’m sacked!” Stiles shouted to the sink. Thankfully, the kitchen was empty, but the sink gave him nothing to work with. 

Screw it, he was already a gonner.

Stiles mixed the coffee haphazardly, not even sure he’d added sugar. Maybe he’d grabbed the salt. Either way, Derek deserved it for shipping him off to Cora because of two bad mugs of coffee. 

“Here,” Stiles offered, voice terse, holding the mug out to Derek a few minutes later. He refused to set it down on principal.

Derek was keeping his neutral face mask on, which pissed him off even more. Still, he took the mug gingerly and then stared down into it.

“Drink it,” Stiles challenged.

“Did you poison it?” Derek asked, eyebrow raised.

“Do you know of a reason I would poison your coffee, Derek?” Stiles asked batting his eyelashes innocently. 

Derek blanched, but clearly had nothing to say. He brought the mug to his lips and took a careful sip. He smacked his lips afterwards and set the mug on the coaster. “I think I’ll live,” he declared, a few seconds later.

“It’s shit,” Stiles spat, throwing himself into the chair across from Derek’s desk. Might as well get the transfer done sooner rather than later.

“The coffee? Tastes fine to me.”

“How can it?!” Stiles exclaimed. “I made it!”

“I’m not picky about my coffee, Stiles,” Derek argued, which. 

What?

“But... when I was interviewed, I was told that getting your coffee just right was first and foremost.”

Derek rolled his eyes. “Erica interviewed you, didn’t she? I think she went with that excuse to weed out the weaklings, or something.”

So, Stiles had been plying Erica with Derek gossip for months while she just made a random cup of coffee?!

But, wait.

“If it’s not my coffee-making skills, why are you firing me?”

Derek’s eyes went wide. “You were-- Eavesdropping, Stiles, really?” He sighed heavily. “Also, you’re not getting fired. I’m suggesting you transfer over to Cora’s assistant because she’s working in a division that suits your job advancement better. This was never a permanent position for you at Hale Corp, Stiles. You’re far too smart to organize my calendar all day.”

Stiles’ head was reeling. “Wait, so... wait. I’m. You think I’m smart?” he squeaked.

Derek chuckled and stood, walking out from behind the desk. “Yes, I do. And so does the company. But I also think you’re very attractive and if I’m your supervisor I can’t do anything about it. So?”

Derek leaned over Stiles, arms bracketing him in as the clutched at the arms of the chair. 

Stiles swallowed thickly, eyes bouncing all over Derek’s face, looking for any sign of a joke.

“How--” he cleared his throat and felt his face burning in embarrassment over the crack in his voice, “how fast can we get the transfer paperwork done?”

Derek grinned. “Fast enough that you’ll be under Cora by Friday night. Say six thirty?”

“Rather be under you Friday night, but yeah, Sounds great,” Stiles spoke on a exhale as Derek rocked closer, the foreheads touching. 

“Gross.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “Jackson,” he snapped, eyes sliding closed as he felt Derek pull back. “I thought we were done with the bullshit.”

Stiles turned in the chair to look at the blond who simply shrugged. “I already got Lydia’s forgiveness, what more do I need you for?”

Dammit. Lydia was fickle in love. Then again, who was Stiles to judge?

“Forget it. What do you need?”

“It is the middle of a work day, in case you forgot,” Jackson pointed out, and Stiles felt the urge to punch him rising.

“I’ll be with you in a second, Jackson,” Derek said, managing to sound not pissed off.

Jackson backed out of the office, but left the door wide open. 

Stiles glanced back at Derek. “Look, I know he’s the illegitimate son of your wild and estranged uncle, so technically, despite the fact that he was adopted into a different wildly rich family, he is Hale by blood, but does he have to work here?”

“You should meet Peter’s illegitimate daughter.”

Stiles scrunched up his nose. “No thanks.”

Derek smirked. “Get back to work, Stiles. We can iron out Friday’s details later.”

Stiles grinned, bubbling happiness filling his chest. “I’ll pencil it in.”

[jordanstrophe]

ok ill send like two more before i get back to my movie: blood (i sent this one to liv/raccoon and she created a new OC and i felt particularly nefarious) ~violet

(That’s Racoon for you, I feel like I need to go all out on this one now. Well, at least stepping out of my comfort zone a bit, rather then the usual scenarios.)(Edit: WHOOPS! I got a bit carried away. Enjoy!)

CW: Kidnapping, mild stripping, Knifes, blood, cutting, restraints, torture, kind of a tribe ritual? Idk... Whumpee left as a sacrifice (or a snackrifice?)  Monster caretaker

“WAIT! PLEASE!” Whumpee begged, as two large men had a hold on each arm, pulling them through the thick green forest. Whumpee’s toes were barely skimming the dirt, they were practically being carried as they kicked, screamed and fought, but the men were having none of it. They were covered in hide, bones flowing around them from twine decorating their bodies with beautiful war paint. Whumpee would be fascinated by them if they weren't wasting any time dragging them through the forest. 

They broke out into a clearing, where there was a village made from twine, straw and hide. A massive bonfire in the center with more tribals surrounding it. All heads turned toward them, as they passed through.

“Please! Let me go! I don’t mean any harm, don’t let them take me!” Whumpee pleaded, but the eyes only lingered at them with fascination as they were taken to the main tent. There was a man sat at a large throne, decorated with bones, feathers, comforted with rich looking hides. There was a small stage in front of the throne with two long wooden poles on each side with rope dangling from each one.

Whumpee was hoisted onto the stage, the rope tightly tied around each wrists. They weren’t quite tall enough to stand comfortably, as their toes just barely grazed the floor. The man stood up, barking a language Whumpee couldn’t understand. Two tables on each side of them were filled with people who were all chattering amongst themselves, some standing and yelling at whoever the Chief was. 

“Please! I don’t know if you can understand me, but I swear, I’m just an researcher! We didn’t even know there were people here, we were just exploring and I got separated, we mean no harm!” Whumpee cried out. The room fell silent, all eyes staring them down. The Chief looked at them for the first time, their eyes burning into theirs. They raised an eyebrow, curiously looking them up and down, before walking around them in a circle.

The Chief gave them a smug smirk, before pulling out a knife that was stabbed in the side of the throne before approaching Whumpee. “Wait! Wait what are you doing!? Wait! I’m begging you, Please don't!” Whumpee cried out, as the Chief took the knife, grabbing their shirt and tearing it off with the blade, straight down the middle. 

Whumpee yelped, squeezing their eyes shut tightly, but shocked they weren’t cut. When they opened their eyes, the Chief was nowhere to be seen. They let out a breath of relief, but was short lived as they felt a sharp blade slice across their back. 

Whumpee cried out, jolting at the unexpected pain, as they struggled trying to get away, but could hardly even move with their feet barely touching the ground. Another slice, another scream, as they could hear the Chief’s deep chuckling from behind them. Ten slices total, four slices on their back, four slices along their ribs, one deep slice down each shoulder to their elbow, all Whumpee could do was cry, and pleaded, as they hung mercilessly. 

The Chief cut the bindings, as they hit the floor on their knees. They didn’t get a moment to breathe, before they were grabbed again and drug out. All eyes stared at them, but they were different this time. It wasn’t curiosity anymore, it was both pity, and excitement. 

There was a large rock overhanging a tall ledge, torches blazing a trail leading, with a wooden stake at the end. Whumpee was dumped at the end, wrists tied together with a gracious three inches of slack from the stake.  

‘'Bleed for them.” The Chief spoke from behind them.

“W-what?” Whumpee muttered, dazed. They could understand them the whole time? They could have communicated from the beginning?! “It smells blood, bleed for them, and it will come for you. Bleed for them, and save us all.” He hissed, before turning and walking away. 

"WAIT!" Whumpee screamed, before breaking into tears, blood dripping down their arm and chest to a pool at their knees. They desperately tried to break the rope binding them, but whoever made it clearly knew how to make them strong. Hours passed, the hot sun began to fade in the distance. Some of the villagers crouched down, huddled at the base of the rock, watching, waiting, but now there were none, some running off hollering in a high pitched voice into the darkness. 

It got cold fast, Whumpee was starving, dehydrated, flesh burning with pain as they awaited their fate. Something deep in the forest shifted, birds bolting off in the air as the trees swayed unnaturally.  Whumpee stared with wide eyes, something was coming... They were two entranced by the anticipation to realize whatever was coming was already there, lingering underneath the rock, it’s large, massive hand with scales and sharp claws gripped the rock behind them. Only when the rock shifted did Whumpee snap out of it, shooting a glance behind them to try and figure out what on earth what that?! 

They could barely make it out in the darkness, they only knew a weight had just come on the rock with them. All they could see was some large figure, about their size, sitting on the side of the rock. Whumpee looked back in front of them towards the forest, only to come face to face with a massive creature, it’s head was as large as the structures, it’s eyes burned and glowed in the night, horns and spikes coming off it at every angle. 

Whumpee was frozen. This couldn’t be real, this had to be some kind of night mare! Wake up... Wake up! This isn’t real! Even if Whumpee wasn’t tied to a stake, they don’t think they could even try to run, they were just frozen. Another hand slowly appeared, reaching towards them, Whumpee finally had the instinct to let out a cry, cringing their body, squeezing their eyes shut. As badly as they wanted to keep their eyes open for the mare seconds they had to live, they couldn’t watch it... They just couldn't!

They felt something shift at their wrists, after a couple of seconds of silence, Whumpee opened their eyes to realize the stake was ripped from the ground, only the bindings around their wrists were left. Whumpee instinctively jumped to their feet, staggering a couple of steps back, but before they could run, they fainted. Before collapsing the creature quickly put their hand underneath Whumpee, catching them gracefully preventing them from hitting the hard rock.  

The creature lifted Whumpee’s unconscious body in their hand, they fit perfectly in the palm of their hand, as it carefully closed its fingers around them, gently hugging their body, as the creature took off into the jungle.

>><<>><<>><<

Whumpee blinked awake, they were laying down on something soft, was it leaves? Moss? They were inside a cave, they could see the exit, as the sun was just now rising. Whumpee looked around, confused, there were random items littering the cave, hides, plastic, shiny silverware, a bike, even a whole fridge. They looked down at their body, they were bandaged... How were they bandaged? Despite being crudely done, it gave an odd feeling of relief. 

The ground trembled, as slow heavy footsteps approached, as the creature crawled into the cave. Whumpee let out a silent gasp, as they hid behind the fridge. They could hear the creature stop suddenly, it’s head creaking as it looked around. Whumpee covering their ears, cringing. They could feel the fridge move, as they glanced behind them, only to see the creature had picked it up, as was staring at them with a disappointed expression. 

Whumpee whimpered, fearfully staring up at the creature, who set the fridge down, and wrapped it’s hand around Whumpee. They cried out, trying to jump out of their grasp, but it quickly tightened its grip, but just enough to hold them in place. Before they could panic anymore, it held something up to their lips, it was a broken shell, that was filled with fresh water. The creature motioned it closer with anticipation. 

Whumpee had to admit, it looked appetizing, they were so thirsty they would take anything. They drank the water, as the creature held it for them, allowing them to drink every little drop. When they were done, the creature laid them back down in the little bed they made them, gently giving them a pat on the head with a single claw. 

Tag list: @grizzlie70  @alien-octopus

(ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧ Thank you for reading!

(there was more planned, but it got long.)

[lifeofkaze]

An Art of Balance #37 (Bonus)

Orion Amari x MC

A/N: First bonus chapter! Quite some people asked me when Everett might get what he deserves. Well, here you go (finally)! Judith Harris belongs to @judediangelo75 , David Willows to @that-scouse-wizard and Katriona KC Cassiopeia – as always – to my wonderful wifey @kc-needs-coffee

Warning: The smallest mention of blood

Word Count: ~ 2.700

_________________________________

Bonus - Chapter 37: Doppelbeater Defense

Despite of the biting wind in her face as she whizzed through the air, Lizzie could feel a drop of sweat making its way down beneath her shoulder blades and along her spine. Ignoring the soft tickle, she gripped the Quaffle tighter and held it to her body as she ducked beneath a Bludger send in her direction by Erika Rath and prepared to make her move.

Whipping her broomstick sideways at the last possible moment, she used the momentum to let go of the Quaffle and send it through the left one of the other team’s hoops. The Keeper had no chance to block her throw and she broke into a grin as the goalposts lit up for a moment, signalling her success to the crowd.

“Jameson scores for her team in an almost artistic manner!” Murphy reaffirmed only moments later. “Her choice of hoop came 68.5 % unexpected and left the Keeper with no chance to deflect the Quaffle in time.”

Her grin widened as she flew along the stands and let the whooping of the fans spur her on. Considering that they were only playing a friendly, the stands were packed. The Quidditch season was over and Hufflepuff the reigning Quidditch champion; to let out some of the penned up energy, Orion and Rath had decided to organise a mixed match for the Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw teams. With the exams being almost over, a lot of their peers had found their way onto the scalding hot pitch today, just happy to escape the dusky shadows of the castle for a few hours.

In full flight, she held onto the handle of her broom before coming into a standing position as she surfed past her friends, raising her fist into the air. Lizzie had pretty much abandoned broom surfing for a long time, but had picked it up again this year; ever since she and Orion had started dating officially three weeks earlier, it had slowly but surely developed into her favourite way to celebrate a scored goal.

Sitting down, Lizzie made her way back into the middle of the pitch again. With a smile just as bright as her own, Orion came up beside her, visibly proud of both her goal and her skilled display of his favourite flying technique; he had taught it to her after all. He clapped his gloved hand on her shoulder and gave her the smallest wink. When the Quaffle re-entered the game, he smirked, turned around and was gone chasing after it.

Completely lost in thought, Lizzie stared after him. The place on her shoulder where his hand had rested only moments earlier, was still tingling and she felt her heart beat faster. She watched as he relieved Skye of the Quaffle with a laugh and a graceful swipe of his hand. Even though it had been some time since they had gotten together now, the thought that he was actually her boyfriend still felt surreal to her.

She was violently broken out of her dazed state when she saw a Bludger racing towards her at a ridiculous speed. It was aimed straight for her head and she only managed to duck out of it’s way at the last moment. She could feel the air move as it whizzed past her, her heart beating in her ears, this time from pure adrenaline. She let out a shaky breath; that had been a close one.

Straightening up again, she whipped her broomstick around and flew over to Everett, who had beat the iron sphere her way. He smirked at her flustered state as she came to a halt directly in front of him.

“Are you mad or what?” Lizzie snapped at him. “This is supposed to be a friendly! We don’t go for the head in a friendly!”

Unimpressed, Everett looked her up and down haughtily. “Shut it, Jameson, it’s your problem if your distracted.”

His sneer turned into a derogatory smirk as he continued, “You’d better focus, sunshine; we wouldn’t want that pretty face of yours smashed, would we? I guess, the captain would like you considerably less then. After all, there’s not much more to you than a halfway decent look.”

Her temper flaring for a moment, Lizzie had the strong urge to just push Everett of his broom and be done with it. Instead, she took a deep breath, grit her teeth and left him behind. Arguing with the sixth-year was no use; she knew it was his hurt pride speaking. He had been shooting snide remarks at her ever since she and Orion had become a couple. Letting him get under her skin was exactly what he wanted.

Even though she tried to ignore his comments, Everett was far from done with her. Every time she came close to him over the course of the match, he was shouting a new profanity at her, every new one worse than the last. After a while, despite her best efforts, his verbal attacks were distracting her so much she couldn’t concentrate on playing anymore.

Her passes were starting to get unprecise, her manoeuvres were failing more often than not. When she tried to bring the Quaffle past the opposing Keeper, her throw got blocked with ease. Annoyed with herself, Lizzie gave vent to her frustration with a scream and a hit against the handle of her Comet.

Her increasing anger didn’t go unnoticed by Orion. Hovering beside her, he was trying to centre her again with his calm, reassuring voice until Lizzie felt her rage melt away at the sight of his smile. Taking a deep breath, she smiled at him thankfully and returned into action by his side.

But Orion hadn’t been the only one to notice Everett’s constant slurs. Judith and Katriona, who was one of the Ravenclaws playing on Lizzie’s team, had already shared more than one eyeroll ever since Everett had started attacking their friend. All of them were sick and tired of his rudeness anyway, but his behaviour today was just downright disgusting.

When the Hufflepuff Beater made the mistake of sending a Bludger to the spot where both of them were hovering in the air, KC and Judith only needed to share a look between them to know what to do.

Anticipating the rotating Bludger with their bats raised and ready, they hit the Bludger both at the same time. It changed its course back to its sender with incredible speed, leaving Everett no time to dodge it. With an audible, ugly sounding crack it collided with his nose, blood spurting out of his nostrils as he dropped his bat and cried out in pain.

Murphy winced into his megaphone as the stands around him erupted into cheers. “Ouch, that must have hurt, ladies and gentlemen! Someone had better get Madam Pomfrey to take a look at this, there’s a 98.6 % chance of a really nasty bruise.”

The laughter in Murphy’s clear voice was very badly hidden and he had to clear his throat before he could continue. “But all jokes aside, the only thing more fabulous than this perfect display of one of the most challenging Beater manoeuvres known to any skilled Quidditch strategist is the sheer perfection of the two players conducting it! With Harris’s unmatched strength and Cassiopeia’s unrivalled technique, the Tigress and Ravenclaw’s rising star effectively knock Everett out of the game, giving their team a considerable advantage.”

It was true; Everett had clapped his hands in front of his face and was in no state to stay on his broomstick much longer, let alone continue playing. His eyes shot daggers at them through his fingers, Judith glaring back and KC only shrugging it off nonchalantly; he’d had it coming after all.

*

Luckily for all of them, the Snitch had been caught pretty quickly after KC and Judith had broken Everett’s nose, leaving no room for more injuries, accidental or no.

Being a member of his original team, Orion had insisted on escorting Everett to the Hospital Wing, however impossible he might have acted. Madam Pomfrey had been busy when they had arrived, so her assistant had taken care of him. Her healing spells were usually impeccable, but today she claimed she had been distracted by a nasty headache. Lizzie suspected very much she hadn’t been distracted at all. They had left a cursing and ranting Everett to her further care and had made their way to the Great Hall.

With one more exam still ahead of them, Murphy and Orion had separated from the rest of the team to go over their notes together, while Judith, KC and Lizzie had found seats at the Hufflepuff table.

They were chatting about the match, the Charms exam taking place in two days’ time and the prospect of new players come next season. While KC was enjoying the prospect of fresh blood, both Lizzie and Judith were sighing at the idea of having to spend another year with Everett on their team.

“You know, David Willows could step up,” Judith suggested between two bites of her dinner. “He’d fit the team so much better than that airhead.”

Lizzie tilted her head. “I thought he was stuck in detention forever.”

“Only for the whole year, next year he should be free again,” Judith shrugged, “if he doesn’t do any more stupid stunts, that is.”

“Any more stupid stunts and get caught, you mean,” KC added with a smirk.

Judith laughed. “Naturally.”

Her golden eyes wandered from her friends’ faces to something in Lizzie’s back and one of her eyebrows arched in dismay. “Speaking of the devil…”

Lizzie turned around to see Everett stomping their way. His face was looking truly dreadful; his nose was hidden under a thick bandage and the skin around it red and bruised. The proportions of his usually not unattractive face were oddly contorted by the swelling. What was visible of the rest of his face was screaming murder as he approached them.

He drew himself up to his full height as he stared down at the three girls. He would have looked threatening had his broken nose not made quiet wheezing noises every time he breathed.

“Look what you did to my face,” he snarled at them through gritted teeth, his fists shaking with rage. “This is all your fault! That incompetent amateur of a healer said my nose might not go back to the way it was before! You’ll answer for this!”

Lizzie shifted uncomfortably in her seat under his glare. She was honestly sick of him and his attitude and wished he would just leave them in peace; she’d had her share of insults for the day and was too tired to get into a fight.

Judith and KC, on the other hand, didn’t seem to share her notion. Judith looked him up and down, her muscular arms crossed in front of her chest, while KC’s eyes never left him. She took a deliberately slow sip of her coffee.

“I don’t see your problem,” she answered coolly after setting her mug back down. “How did you put it? It’s your fault if you’re distracted.”

She turned her attention to her fingernails, as if the sheer presence of the seething Hufflepuff Beater was boring her out of her mind.

“Look at it that way: a crooked nose might suit you after all,” she continued. “I heard it gives people more character; Godric knows you’d need that.”

Despite herself, Lizzie had to snort into her cup of pumpkin juice at KC’s words. This turned out to be a mistake, however, when Everett turned all his attention on her.

He stepped forward, right into Lizzie’s personal space. He was effectively towering over her with no chance for her to get away as he bend down to hiss into her face.

“I have no idea what’s so funny about that, Jameson. Only because you’re shagging the captain doesn’t mean you’re special in any way. Harming your teammate intentionally is against the rules, I’ll have you and Harris kicked off the team. You’ll regret this!”

He abruptly straightened himself up and began striding away, head held high, not even sparing them another glance. If he had, he had probably seen KC turning and sneakily sticking her foot out. He caught on it and swayed for a moment before he tipped over and landed face down onto the floor with a resounding bang. He screamed and Lizzie was sure to hear the crunch deformed bones for a second time that day.

Everett turned around, staring up at them with pain and hate edged onto his face. He opened his mouth to say something but there was nothing coming out of it but a loud, high pitched whine.

Not impressed in the slightest, KC rose from her seat and set a foot on Everett’s chest to prevent him from getting up. Bending down, her long, strawberry blonde curls almost grazing his face, she locked eyes with him. There was a fury burning in her blue eyes that made him go cold on the inside.

“You’re right, harming your teammates is against the rules – good thing you aren’t one of mine,” she hissed at him.

She slightly increased the pressure of her foot on his chest. “So, if I hear one more word about our lovely Lizzie or my fantastic friend Orion coming from your filthy mouth ever again, be sure to know that the next Bludger will be aimed lower – a lot lower.”

A confident smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “Consider this a warning; according to Murphy I have a pretty good accuracy of 97.8 %.”

Everett made a strangled sound as KC stepped over him, applying her full weight onto his body for a moment. Judith followed her, driving the point home by tapping her Beater’s bat on his chest as she walked by with a hard stare.

KC turned her head and looked down at him; she might as well have looked at a cockroach.

“On a sidenote,” she added, suddenly sounding very sweet, “I heard the N.E.W.T.s are pretty tough to prepare for. Maybe you might want to reconsider returning to the Hufflepuff team next year. Don’t you worry about your position, we know just the replacement for you.”

“You’re bright spirit will be missed, but I think we’ll get over it,” Judith agreed with a satisfied smirk.

Everett’s gaze flicked from one to the other; if Lizzie didn’t know any better, she’d say he was actually scared of her friends.

When KC and Judith turned around to walk away, he muttered a curse under his breath, prompting the redheaded Ravenclaw to turn around again.

“What was that?”

All defiance lost, Everett cowered in on himself. “Nothing.”

“Good.”

KC’s eyes rose to Lizzie, who was still sitting at the table, staring at the scene unfolding in front of her. “Liz, are you coming?”

Lizzie snapped out of it, got up and didn’t miss out on stepping over Everett herself, a big grin on her face. Judith and KC both flanked her, linking arms with each other as they marched her out of the Great Hall.

“Godric, did you see his face?” Lizzie chuckled as soon as they were out of earshot. “He’s going to have nightmares, I bet.”

Turned more serious again, she glanced at KC. “But was that really necessary?”

“It was,” KC answered equally as serious. “He practically begged for this for a long time now.”

“I’d have done anything to not have to put up with him for another year,” Judith agreed wholeheartedly.

Lizzie laughed and pulled her friends closer as the three of them marched across the Entrance Hall in lockstep.

“Thanks girls, I appreciate it. Just do me the favour of reminding me to never ever cross my Beater Babes.”

[kamilah-the-bloodqueen]

Remember Me (3/??)

So it’s been quite some time since I looked at this series, and I apologize for such a long hiatus but it’s back (Someone reached out to me asking when part 3 would be out so I moved it forward in my WIP queue! Basically Amy starts out with Adrian, and it’s perfect but one day Amy gets into a car accident and doesn’t come out the same. Her memories from the past 5 years of her life - and that includes all the events from BB1 (just roll with it). Just a FYI I will NOT be rewriting the first 2 parts, you’ll just have to deal with the shitty writing for the whole series. Honeymoon is the current WIP I’m working on, followed by a f!Blaine x MC angst one-shot, the cafe part 2 and then the first chapter of my university AU. Please be patient with me, I am under a lot of academic stress but I promise these will be finished. 

Pairing: Adrian x MC x Kamilah (It’s not romantic - just a description...for now)

Warnings: This series does include a serious injury, amnesia

Word Count: 2753 

Tags: (Since it’s been so long if you’d like to be removed just lmk - that being said if you’d like to be added to the tag please let me know) @a-raines @bloodboundstuff f @kamilahtopme

Part One    Part Two 

Amy’s eyes fluttered open, Adrian slouched in the chair beside her, sound asleep she sighed softly, her side sore and tighter than usual as she watched Adrian shift in his gentle slumber. Amy squinted as she tried to recall her memories, frowning as she attempted to make herself more comfortable in the bed. Adrian slowly moved, rubbing his eyes and smiling at Amy as he stood to make two cups of coffee.

“Good Morning Amy…” He spoke softly, lovingly. It almost felt familiar to Amy, something about the way he said it resonated with her. She flashed a smile at him, her eyes lighting up as he brought her a cup of coffee, perfectly made the way she always liked it. 

Adrian is very sweet, I could see how I would have fallen for him. His heart is made of gold, and he is the cinnamon roll that Lily said he was and...and I’m breaking his heart...me...Amy, just a regular girl...I’m breaking his heart because I don’t remember anything...oh...

Amy felt her heart break just a little - she couldn’t force herself to love Adrian and he certainly didn’t deserve this pain, but the spark between them was extinguished in that accident. Amy drew a deep breath, catching the scent of the cooled coffee cup in her hands, she shakily held it to her lips, spilling a small amount on her lap as Adrian rushed to grab napkins. He gently placed them down, patting the sheet dry as Amy felt her heart skip a beat. She let out a breath as Adrian sat down, slowly drinking his own coffee. 

“Thank you Adrian, you’re a good friend.” Amy spoke softly, barely a whisper as Adrian grinned, his eyes sparkling in the dimly lit room. He paused before sipping his coffee, his heart dropping as he replayed Amy’s words silently. 

Good friend. Good friend. Over and over again. Good friend. She doesn’t love me anymore, is there any chance she’ll come back to me? 

“Adrian? Are you alright?” Amy tapped him on the shoulder, a concerned look written on her face as Adrian nodded slowly. 

“Yes, my apologies, I just...need a moment. I’ll be right back.” Adrian stood quickly, nearly sprinting out the door as Amy tilted her head in confusion. Adrian shut the door, leaning his whole body against it as he let a tear fall from his eyes. He pulled his phone out, immediately opening his camera roll as he replayed forgotten memories- memories Amy had promised to never forget. He slid down the door, his legs losing strength as he dove deeper into the past she had forgotten. He pulled out a small package of tissues, quickly replacing them with his sleeves as tears flooded his face and the floor. He choked as he stumbled upon a picture of them together in the moonlight, Amy smiling on his back as he had carried her through Central Park that night. He watched videos of Amy dancing, singing and saying ‘I love you’ to him, all recent. He rested his head against the door, looking into the lights as he clenched his jaw, reaching into his pocket to pull out the engagement ring that had lost all of its purpose. 

“Amy...goddammit Amy...I should have been with you that night...I should have driven you myself.” He stood back up, adjusting his suit and tie and wiping his face clear, re-entering the room as Amy sat quietly, gazing out the window. 

“Is something wrong Adrian?” Amy turned to him with that always curious look in her eyes, he took a quiet seat next to her before smiling. 

“No, but I have something to tell you.” Amy pursed her lips as Adrian pulled the velvet box from his pocket, gently handing it to her and letting her open it. She gasped and closed the box before handing it back to Adrian as he smiled, a tear slowly flowing down his face. “I was going to propose to you that night…before the accident happened...” 

“Adrian…I...I’m sorry…” Amy interrupted, Adrian holding the box tightly as he forced a smile. 

“It’s okay Amy. It’s not your fault…” His voice was calming but Amy could sense the broken in him, she could see the heartbreak in his posture and his face. 

“I...I just don’t...I don’t feel that way anymore...I’m sorry…I...those memories...I don’t...” Amy cried softly, Adrian placing a gentle hand over hers as he closed the box, placing it back in his jacket. 

“Don’t worry about it, our relationship is probably one of the last of your worries. I just thought you should know. I am sorry if I crossed a line Amy...I...I love-” Adrian clenched his jaw, Amy brows furrowing as she averted his broken gaze, “I have to go to my office, but...I’ll be back to visit you either tonight or tomorrow. Get some rest Amy.” He stood, his shoulders slumping in defeat as he found the strength to compose himself before he walked out of the hospital room. 

Amy stared out the window, her eyes welling with tears as she tried to comprehend the situation, to be empathic to Adrian and to herself. Amy got so lost in the web of thoughts and worries that she didn’t even notice Lily open the door.

“Hey Ames.” Lily slowly shut the door, a cheeky smile on her face as she laid a collection of electronics in front of Amy. Amy’s eyes fell on the nintendo switch as Lily beamed with excitement, Lily setting up her laptop so Amy could see the screen.

“I thought you could use some fun today, I bought movies and some video games.” Amy’s eyes crinkled at Lily, before using her one hand to pick up one of the switch controls. Lily took the other control in her hands as she started mario kart, adjusting the controls so it would be a fair game. 

“Thank you Lily...now I’m going to blow smoke up your ass.” The beeping to start the race went off as Amy gassed her bike, Lily gasping as she took off too. Amy laughed, throwing a red shell and taking first place as Lily slowly made her way up from 12th to 2nd. 

“I’m right on your ass now Amy.” Lily hit the buttons more aggressively as Amy laughed, leaving a banana and screwing Lily’s position up.

“Fuck!” Lily set the remote down as Amy crossed the finish line, taking first place. “I see you haven’t lost your touch.” Lily laughed as she set up the next race.

“No. Never. Luckily I still reign champion when it comes to Mario Kart.” Amy nodded her head in pride before they played another race, and another. They lost track of time, Lily’s alarm pulling them from their entertainment as Lily looked at Amy, feeling as if she had her best friend back once more. Amy caught Lily’s gaze, both of them happier today than they had both been in the past few days. A soft knock on the door pulled them both out of their moment, Jax’s soothing voice ringing from the other side as he slid the door open slowly. 

“Jax!” Amy’s voice squeaked as Jax put a hand over his heart.

“You guys are racing without me….I’m wounded...having a stroke…” The room filled with laughter as Jax took a switch remote and sat next to Amy on the other side. “Now I’ll have to whoop both of you for leaving me out!” Jax smirked as Lily adjusted her glasses. 

“Oh it’s on!” Lily cracked her knuckles as Amy laughed, raising a brow at both of them as the countdown began. 

“I’m injured, my memory is missing and yet I’m still going to wreck both of you!” Amy tapped her fingers against the controller as the race started, all three of them battling for first place with red shells and bananas. 

“I’ve got it! Oh! ....Fuck!” Amy screamed as a NPC threw a red shell and took first place. All three of them gasping and laughing at their loss to a NPC, Lily exiting to the home screen as Jax and Amy handed her the remotes.

“Geeze. Don’t let Kamilah know I got smoked this badly...” Jax rubbed the back of his neck as Lily took the remotes, put them in her bag and plugged the switch in for a charge. Jax fiddled with his hands as Lily sat back down, asking Amy if she needed anything. 

“I can’t believe we lost to an NPC...this is the end of my career.” Jax chuckled under his breath as Amy rolled her eyes before laughing too. Jax relaxed back into his chair as Amy shut her eyes gently, Lily brewing the group some tea after all of the excitement. 

“Hey Jax...Lily can I ask?” Amy mumbled softly, Lily turning to face her as Jax lifted his head up.

“Of course.” Jax placed a gentle hand on Amy’s shoulder, his soft eyes fixated on hers as she smiled. 

“What’s Kamilah like?” 

Silence. Jax and Lily gave each other looks before Jax cleared his throat. 

“She can be cold if she wants to be, she’s...quite mysterious but she opened up a lot with us, although I don’t know the details of your personal relationship with her. I...I’m not entirely sure how to describe her to you but she wouldn’t refuse your questions Amy, especially given the current circumstances. Why do you ask us?” Jax furrowed his brows as Amy felt a blush creep onto her face, Lily catching the pink cheeks in the corner of her eye. 

“Nothing, just curious to know what my friends were like…” Amy stared down at the blanket as Jax’s phone buzzed in his pants. 

Friends. Friends. Friends. Of course Lily and Jax were Amy’s friends, but Adrian? Kamilah? She felt something towards both of them. She didn’t carry the same feelings Adrian had for her - and they were far from the intensity he felt for her. He made her feel so safe and secure - and his nurturing nature would make any girl fall in love and Amy could sense something there, even if it was small. And Kamilah? There was something radiant about her to Amy, something about her presence that brings Amy a sense of tranquility that she doesn’t feel with Adrian. She didn’t know her but Amy felt herself infatuated with wanting to know Kamilah, wanting to spend time with her and just talk to her. Jax’s panicked voice brought Amy out of her head as Lily placed a calming hand on her shoulder - having watched Amy go through the whole thought process. 

“Nikhil-” His face changed from content to concerned as a muffled voice rang through, “I’m-I’m on my way.” Jax rushed over to Lily, whispering as Lily’s face grew concerned. They exchanged silent whispers as Amy tilted her head, wondering what it could be about. 

“Amy...I have to go...it’s a uh...work emergency..., will you be alright?” Jax squeezed her hand before hastily rushing out the door. 

“Amy...do you...do you have feelings for Kamilah?” Amy’s heart jumped at Lily’s voice, her face turning pink as Lily slowly took a seat beside her, her face full of curiosity.

“I...I don’t know! I-” Amy reached her hand up to cover her face as Lily gently pulled her hand away, giving Amy a reassuring look. Another knock on the door startled both of them as Lily rushed to open it, Kamilah stepping through the threshold. Amy felt her heart speed up, her palms growing sweaty as Kamilah came closer and closer to her. Her maroon suit perfectly fitted, her hair practically shining as her eye softened upon meeting Amy’s. 

“How are you feeling Amy?” Kamilah's voice was like music to Amy’s ears, it was smooth and silky yet firm and commanding, Amy’s heart pounding so loudly she thought Kamilah would hear it. She swallowed the lump in her throat as Kamilah gave a more concerned look to Amy. Amy thought she’d faint as Kamilah placed her palm against her forehead, her fingers rubbing small circles as she asked Lily to get some water. 

“Thank you for visiting Kamilah...I really appreciate it…” Amy whispered softly, Kamilah smiled, her usual exterior melting for a moment before Lily returned with the water. Lily paused before setting the water down on the table next to Amy, her eyes scanning between Kamilah and Amy and the odd sexual tension that lingered throughout the room. 

“I uh...gotta blast!” Lily squealed and dashed out the door, unsure of how to deal with the situation. Kamilah blinked twice, shocked as Amy furrowed her brows before returning to Kamilah. 

“I wonder what that was all about…” Kamilah pursed her lips as Amy shakily reached for the glass, her heart nearly beating out of her chest. She gripped the cup and brought it to her lips, Kamilah watching subtly as Amy spilled some on herself by accident. 

“Amy, here...let me help you…” Kamilah rushed to grab a few napkins from the counter as Amy’s face flushed red, when Kamilah placed her delicate hands on her lap where the water was spilled Amy thought she was going to have a heart attack. Kamilah lifted her hand, gesturing towards the water as Amy shook her head. Kamilah picked the glass up and gently placed it against Amy’s lips, tilting it back so she could drink. Kamilah tried not to stare but she couldn’t help herself but to watch Amy’s lips against the rim of the glass.

“Had enough?” Kamilah brought the nearly empty glass back down, perching herself on the chair next to Amy as Amy wiped her mouth. 

“Yes...thank you…” Amy mumbled, she shifted her eyes to the floor to avoid Kamilah’s eyes, a gaze that would make Amy question her feelings more than she already was. 

Kamilah cleared her throat, her hands slipping into her pockets before she sat forward, placing her hand over Amy’s. 

“Amy, everything will be alright. You have all of us at your side and we will get you whatever you need.” Amy smiled at her gesture, Kamilahs stoic expression that Lily had spoken of was nowhere to be found. Amy nodded in silence, enjoying the comforting touch of the older woman. She must’ve dozed off because she awoke later in an empty room, a small letter placed beside her as she rubbed her eyes. 

Amy,

Many apologies for running out so soon. An urgent matter needed to be handled and I could not address it from the seat beside you. I’ll return to visit you as soon as this matter is taken care of. Feel free to text or call if you need anything. My number is already saved in your phone. 

~Kamilah Sayeed

Amy smiled at the heartwarming note, maybe Kamilah wasn’t as cold and stoic as Lily had previously told her. She took in a deep breath as the doctor opened the door, clipboard in hand as he ran through the tedious checklists to ensure Amy was properly recovering. 

---------------------- Adrian’s Office ------------------------------

Kamilah, how late are you working tonight? 

Not much longer Adrian, just a few things to finish up here. Do you need something?

I could use some of your advice, and company. 

Of course brother. I’m sure the current situation has been exhausting among other things for you. 

Thank you Kamilah, I’ll see you shortly?

Yes.

Adrian leaned back in his leather chair as it gently squeaked, his suit wrinkling as he removed his tie from his neck and tossed it to the side. He turned his gaze towards the ceiling, his shoulders falling - a single tear falling from his face. He took a tissue from his desk and uselessly wiped away as his face became flooded with them, the teardrops staining documents and leaving marks on his jacket. He ripped the jacket off, not caring about how much it had cost him as she rested his head in his hands - his composure falling apart in seconds. His white blouse became disheveled as his breathing grew fast and desperate - his heart racing and beating so hard it hurt. He tried to stand, his legs completely failing him as he leaned against the bookshelf, hiding his face in his knees as he let his bottled emotions out. He stayed there for what felt like hours, until the door slowly creaked open...