#(& also i did bawl my eyes out for a good 15 minutes at some point during the night)

[berrymeter]

i lied & grabbed three cookies. and ate them. are you proud of me mama.

#perth.txt #to be fair the box was near my bed. but #to be fair it's also not a full meal. but #i already ate pasta today & the leftovers were pasta again #i already do not like pasta much so having to eat it twice in a day is... im autism #(if we had good things to put with it it'd be fine) #(i could potentially try to use tomato condensate or whatever its called?) #(i dont like tomato but it offers a bit of diversity so i can take it) #(the other option was cooking a whole slab of meat alongside the pasta & nah. i am not. doing this.) #(ive gotten incredibly shit sleep today due to the horrors (construction noise) im running on very little energy) #(& also i did bawl my eyes out for a good 15 minutes at some point during the night) #(dont worry about it though)

[eideticmemory]

TWO GHOSTS IV | MATTHEW GUBLER

It’s been 15 years. 15 years has to be long enough . . . right? Read PART 3.

Set 15 years after the end of Ever Since New York, so give that a read first!

Word Count: 3.9k.

Warning: Usual angst, porn, and poor communication amongst characters.

SOUNDTRACK:

Love Affair - UMI

Debt - Eliza McLamb

Sometimes Sunshine - Seasalt

A nonstop flight, from New York City to Los Angeles, is three hours long. On a good day. And May 16 was supposed to be a good day. A great day. The best day of Matthew’s life. He tries not to think about it, not to reminisce too often. About the way he walked through the airport with a little jog, a little pep in his step. And the way he smiled through security, and constantly checked behind him as if you would magically appear. The roses he bought for you in a gift shop near the terminal.

See, a nonstop flight from New York City to Los Angeles is three hours long. On a good day. But Matthew wasn’t looking for three hours. He wasn’t asking you for a few hours of your time, or even a good day. He was asking you for a lifetime.

And that day, he had booked you two a connecting flight that totaled over six hours, with a two hour layover in Colorado. There was a little ice cream shop in the Denver airport, and they served blueberry ice cream. Matthew remembered it was your favorite, and saved just enough money to get your tickets and an entire pint. He couldn’t shake the thought of flying across the country with you, seeing a few small parts of it at a time. A few small parts at a time, until someday, you two had seen the whole world together.

He bought a blanket for you and, while waiting at the terminal, he sat it in the seat beside him, keeping it warm for when you would arrive. He had a little itinerary written in his notes app, and so far everything was going to plan. He had a bouquet of roses in his lap, and he killed time by looking up engagement rings online.

He didn’t start to worry until maybe, an hour, an hour and a half before the plane was set to depart. He called you, just to check in, and it went straight to voicemail. But he was still hopeful. There was very little that could destroy his peace that day. His hope. His happiness.

He tries not to think about it. The way the seconds inched by like a caterpillar moving across the limb of a tree. Slowly, painfully. The way his hope dwindled, and dwindled, and the insane amount of times he heard,

Hey, it’s [y/n]! Leave a message!

He can’t think about it anymore. The way he spents those six hours alone. Bawling his way through flight after flight, and eating a pint of blueberry ice cream by himself. He spent hours on his own. And weeks, months, hell, he spent years thinking that maybe, just maybe, you would find your way back to him.That the universe would magically correct itself.

And you’d come home.

Fifteen.

It took him fifteen years to find you again. It took fifteen years for the universe to bring you back together, and Matthew spent the first five thinking it was all some really shitty nightmare. It took him fifteen years to get close to you, to hear you say his name again, to get inside of you again.

And he managed to fuck it all up in a matter of twenty-four hours.

His body is paralyzed. His mind is moving a mile a minute, and he can’t take his eyes off the ceiling. His chest feels tight, like he can’t breathe properly. He knows he should not feel sorry for himself. That he, alone, is responsible for this wreck. But he can’t seem to shake it. He can’t seem to move.

“What the hell did I do?”

A knock at your door wakes you up. You don’t remember falling asleep, you don’t know how you were able to. But now, it’s all you want to do. You want to stay in the bed, in a state of unconsciousness and dreariness where you can’t remember your mistakes. But someone is knocking. Incessantly, loudly. And they won’t stop.

You roll out of bed, and drag your body across the floor. Zombie like, your shoulders are slouched, your eyes are hooded. Your feet shuffle along the floor like they’re weighted to the hardwood. Your footsteps are slow, hesitant. You don’t know what you’ll do if Matthew is on the other side of that door. You just . . . you don’t know. The very thought of it is making your stomach churn, and you suddenly feel very, very nauseous. The banging continues, and it’s as someone is using all their force. Like they’d break the door down if they could.

“[y/n]!”

You instantly relax at the sound of her voice. You speed up, hurry to the door, “[y/n] [y/l/n]! I know you can hear me! Open up!”

The door swings open and you catch her with her fist in the air, ready to strike the door once again. She’s pissed, doesn’t try to hide it, couldn’t hide it even if she tried.

“Good morning,” you rasp.

“It’s one in the afternoon,” she corrects you, pushing her way into your home.

“Please,” you say, shutting the door behind her. “Come on in.”

“Y’know,” Everest starts, clasping her hands in front of her as a wild look graces her face. “You’ve always been one of the good ones . . . hell, you’ve been . . . great, if that’s the word. You’re better than the others. The ones that really write my checks. But, um, you’re testing me, [y/n].”

You don’t even have to ask.

“Now, if there’s is some magical relationship blooming, or a monumental disaster about to strike, then you need to tell me now, so I can fix it. I’m a fixer, you know, that’s what I do. So, why are you making this so hard for me?”

“If it . . .” you clear your throat, cross your arms as you stare at her feet. “If it makes you feel any better, um, this is hard for me, too.” You attempt to joke. But you just sound sad.

“Yeah?” she raises her eyebrows. “So hard that you come out of his hotel in tears? And what the hell were you doing over there anyway? Was there a plan? Did he call you to come over?”

“I don’t see how any of this matters.”

“It matters because I woke up at seven in the morning — on a saturday — to all sorts of choas and speculation, and picture evidence of you doing exactly what I told you not to do!”

“Yeah, well, I’m a idiot. Don’t worry, that’s been established.”

“The internet is undefeated. Okay? People are . . . great at making up stories, making assumptions. And as your publicist, I need to know the whole story, the real story, before it gets twisted even further.”

You sigh, and walk over to the couch. As you sit down, you pull a pillow into your lap for just a little bit of comfort. “What do you mean the whole story?”

“Wrong choice of words,” Everest says. “The important parts of the whole story. Like are you dating him? Are you fucking him? If so, how long has this been going on?”

You can’t make eye contact as you speak, “I . . . fucked . . . him . . . a few times, a long time ago . . .”

She nods. She motions at you to continue, “. . . And?”

“And . . .” you breathe out. “I fucked him, again. Recently.”

“Last night? At the hotel?”

“Last night . . . not at the hotel.”

“Sooo, when? — Oh, my God,” she lowers her eyebrows at you, purses her lips. “You didn’t.”

“Oh, I did,” you nod. It’s a shameful nod. “You know they say there’s no sex like sex in a dressing room.”

“They also say polka dots are making a comeback, you believe everything you hear?”

“Sorry.”

“So you fuck him in the dressing room, and?”

“And . . . we go our seperate ways . . . again. And, then I realize that’s a lot easier said then done, so I . . . I go for him. I go for him . . .” Everest can hear the way your voice is cracking, the way the weight on your shoulder is slowly pushing the air out of your lungs. “And, uh,” you clear your throat. “Yeah. Yeah, it didn’t work out. Hence the . . . photos of me crying, I guess.”

“Mm,” she nods, crosses her arms. “And the other girl?”

You freeze, cut your head up at her. “What other girl?”

“What do you mean? The girls that came out right behind you. Same sad face? Kinda got a Natalie Portman look to her?”

“I . . .” you shake your head. “I didn’t know she came out after me, I must have left by then.”

“Who is she?”

You give her a shrug, “I don’t know.”

“His girlfriend?”

You huff, “Guess so.”

“Ah, so, some people online actually got it right. Huh, look at that.”

“Look, if the point of all of this is to keep me away from him, you can stop now. I don’t plan on seeing him ever again.”

The doorbell rings, as if on queue, and Everest instantly gives you a look. “What?” you ask. “I don’t know who it is. Your guess is as good as mine.”

She scoffs at you, and turns around, marching towards the door with a certain determination. She pulls it open, and immediately puts her hand on her hip. “You gotta be fucking kidding me.”

“Oh,” Matthew gasps. “Uh, oh . . . fuck . . . sorry, I must — I must have the wrong house.”

“You sure do, Romeo.”

You stand from the couch, your face laced with shock and anger and confusion, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Don’t engage, [y/n], what the hell?” Everest interjects.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest. “How the hell did you find my house?” you direct at Matthew.

“Oh, what?” he scoffs. “Like you’re the only one around here who can play stalker?”

“Go home, Matthew.”

“Five minutes. I’m asking you for five minutes. You can time me if you want.”

“Go back to California, Matthew.”

“Look, I know I fucked up. I know, but —“

“Do you?” you snap. You take slow, calculated steps towards the front door, and your voice is lowering to a rumble. “Do you know that you fucked up? Because, if you did, if you truly knew just how badly you fucked up, then you would leave. You would get on a fucking plane and leave, and you would never come back!”

The way Matthew is looking at you right now.Like he can’t fathom what’s happening. Like he is trying his very best not to feel defeated. “Can I . . . can I just —“

“No.” Everest says. “You heard her. Fuck off, string bean.”

You walk away, retiring to your kitchen. You try to keep yourself busy, but you’re trembling like mad and you can barely breathe.

Matthew leaves. You know because you hear the door close. Everest comes into the kitchen, and you feel stuck. Frozen to the spot and position you’re in. Your back is to her, and you can’t begin to imagine or guess what look is on her face right now.

She’s quiet for a moment, eyeing you with her arms crossed at her chest. She leans against the entryway and sighs, “Tell me more.”

Ramona walks up your driveway, and it isn’t until she looks up from her phone that she sees Matthew. She notices him, and he notices her, and Ramona tries to act like it didn’t happen, But when Matthew opens his mouth to speak, she blows past him, “I’m not supposed to talk to you.”

“I know,” he says instantly. He is well aware, but it doesn’t stop him from running in front of her, blocking her from your front door. “I know, I know. I’m sorry, but . . . please, can you give this [y/n]?”

Matthew holds out an envelope. It’s bright red, your name is printed on the front of it in his handwriting.

Ramona glances at it, but she quickly glances back up, “Do I look like a mailman to you?”

“She won’t take it from me. She won’t talk to me. She might take it from you.”

“Yeah, or she might fire me for even taking it from you in the first place.”

“[y/n] wouldn’t do that.”

“Yeah, yeah, she’s usually pretty amazing, except for when you’re around, or when you’re brought up, or when you’re fucking with her head. You make her a different person, dude. I want no part of it.”

He nods, looks down, “Fair enough . . . I’ll put it in her mailbox.”

“Yeah, why don’t you do that?” She shrugs, and she continues on by him.

“Damn . . .” Everest says. “You ghosted the guy at the airport?”

“Basically,” you shrug.

“Well, fuck,” she scoffs. “That is some serious great gatsby shit.”

“Yeah, we’ve always had a flair for the dramatic.”

The doorbell rings, and you both turn your heads sharply towards the entrance. “You don’t think he would come back, do you?” Everest asks as she walks to the door.

“Well, he never listens much to anything I say, but he’s probably a little scared of you.”

She laughs, and when she opens the door, she tells you it’s only Ramona, who walks in quickly, looking for you. She gives you a soft smile, and joins you in the kitchen as Everest follows close behind.

“So,” Ramona pips. “What’s the game plan?”

“You and [y/n] come to my office in the city and we’ll figure it out. Hey, did you pass him on your way out?” Everest asks her.

“Uh, who?”

“Matthew,” you tell her. “He was just here, you didn’t see him?”

“He was here?” Ramona questions, putting on a look of bewilderment. “When?”

“Just now. He left right before you got here.” Everest explains.

“Holy shit,” Ramona says. “What’d he want?”

“[y/n].”

“So,” you interrupt. “Your office? Now? We can go ahead and get going.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Everest stops you in your tracks, throwing her hands up. “Not so fast, you . . . you need to shower first.”

You look down at your outfit. You’re still dressed in Claire’s clothes and they’re completely disheveled. You haven’t showered or brushed your teeth since the last time you had sex, and the very thought makes you feel dirty. You look exactly how you feel. You sigh, “Fair enough.”

“We’ll wait in the car,” Everest nods, and motions to Ramona to follow her.

“What are we gonna do with her?” she says to Ramona as soon as they’re out of the house and walking down the driveway.

“I don’t know, she’s my boss . . . I can only help so much.”

“Yeah, well, I’ve known [y/n] for a long time now, and she’s never needed saving. But, something tells me we’re going to have to keep her away from this one.”

“From Matthew?” Ramona stops in her tracks.

“Well,” Everest stops, turns around to look at her. “She’s a grown woman. She’ll do what she wants. But, that zombie in there,” she motions to the house. “Who walks around the city in her pajamas for a man, is not [y/n]. Atleast, not the world’s [y/n]. People love her. She’s one of the few celebrities that’s kind and passionate and isn’t problematic. I’m just being proactive here.”

“Proactive?”

“She says she’s done with him. She told him she’s done with him. Now, we will just keep her on that path. Few months later, she and the rest of the world forget this ever happened and everything is back to normal.”

“You sound very sure of all of this.”

“Yeah, well, I like my schedules and I happen to like [y/n] so I better be sure. Come on, our ride’s further down the driveway,” Everest continues walking. While Ramona is stuck in place.

“Hey! Uh,” Ramona stutters, suddenly, loudly, causing Everest to turn around once again. “I think I left my water bottle in the house. I’ll meet you in the car?”

“Okay,” Everest eyes her. “It’s just around the corner. And tell [y/n] to hurry up.”

“I will!”

Ramona waits for Everest to continue down the driveway, and when she’s just far enough, Ramona turns around and acts as if she’s walking back up to your front door. When she’s positive Everest has made it to the car, she runs over to your mailbox. She opens it slowly, so it doesn’t creak as loud. The bright red envelope is the only thing in there, and she takes it out quickly. She looks at it for a moment, asks herself what the hell she’s doing. But she doesn’t have time to think right now, you could walk out at any moment. She closes your mailbox, shoves the envelope in her bag, and walks down the driveway.

Matthew Gubler, himself, is a disruption in the space-time continuum.

When you start tallying up the days, it just doesn’t make sense. Some days, every second feels like it’s crawling by. You’ll be in class, at the head of the class, and you’re surprised when your lesson plan ends atleast ten minutes early. And some days, time moves too fast. You find yourself running late for things, events, important people or things, which isn’t like you.

You call it Matthew Brain, and you keep that term to yourself. It happened fifteen years ago. And it’s happening now. It’s a slow, steady descent back to earth, back to reality. Time isn’t real with him, and you think that’s the reason you can’t remember much of your senior year. It’s a rush, a high to even be near him, and it’s the ultimate collapse when he’s gone. Really gone. Out of the life, for the second time.

Time has reset.

And what feels like one month with Matthew Gubler, only turns out to be four days.

You’re on a journey back to earth, and you haven’t even reached the bottom yet. It’s coming, but not now, you thought. You have time to prepare. And this time you’ll be ready. Ready to hit rock bottom, and spend another fifteen years digging yourself out. You have time, you’re sure of it.

Then Ramona comes into your office. She notices you crying, and you have to twirl around in your chair while you wipe the tears away. “Shit, Ro,” you try to laugh. “What’s up?”

“Uh, your afternoon class?” she reminds you. “With the girls at the community center? . . . What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

A lot. Not anything that you can really talk to Ramona about. And each day is something different. Like today, you’re feeling like a fucking idiot. You feel unbelievably stupid and lost and question why anyone in their right mind would choose to learn anything from you. You feel defeated, and you can’t get the look on that girl’s face out of your head.

You turn to Ramona with a soft smile, “I’m fine. I forgot about the class, thank you for reminding me. I just have to grab a few things before I go.”

“Well,” she sets her bag down in one of the chairs on the opposite side of your desk. She takes a seat in the other, “You’ve got some time, I haven’t even called the ride yet.”

You eye her, suspicious furrowing your eyebrows, “Oh, don’t do that.”

“Do what?” she seems genuinely confused.

“Sit there and feel sorry for me. I don’t need pity. I’m alright.”

“I’ve never seen you cry before . . . I’m just worried.”

“And I appreciate that, kid, I really do. But you don’t have to be, alright?”

“. . . okay.” she shrugs.

“Anyways,” you change the subject. “How much time do I have until I’ve gotta be out of here?”

“Um, I can call you a ride now, it should be here in about, ten minutes?” Ramona pulls her phone from her pocket, and holds it up as she dials the number.

“Sounds good,” you nod.

She leaves the room to make the call, and when she closes the door, you release a big sigh. As if you’d been holding it in the whole time she was here. You get up from your chair, and walk around the desk. Not paying attention, you stub your toe into the adjacent chair, so hard that the chair falls to the ground.

“Ow! Son of a b—“ your yelp is cut off by a painful groan, and your reach down to hold your foot. You look out in front of you, and Ramona’s entire bag has spilled out across the floor. “Fuck,” you mumble and instantly begin to clean it up.

It’s bright red. And it sticks out like a sore thumb. You reach over to grab it, but only because you recognized his hand writing. You run your fingers over your name, and your head is starting to hurt from the amount of pure confusion.

The door swings open, “Okay, they’ll be here in fifteen, but you have some wiggle room —“ Ramona stops when she sees the item in your hand.

You stand up straight, look her in the eye. She’s shaking. She’s trembling, and there are already tears in her eyes.

“I . . . can explain,” she says.

“Then explain.”

“Matthew . . . wanted me to — to give that to you.”

“When?”

“When, um, when he was at your house on Saturday.”

“You said you didn’t see him. You acted like you didn’t even know he had been there. You took this from him?” your voice goes up at slight octave. Not by much, but it stills cuts Ramona like a knife.

“No! No, I didn’t take it from him. I told him to put it in the mailbox. Which he did, but then I . . .”

“You? You what? Went into my mailbox and took it? Are you kidding?”

“It was crazy! I know! It was absolutely insane of me! But—But Everest was saying all these things about protecting your image, and being proactive, I just wanted to help. I thought —“

“Everest? Everest knew about this?”

“No. No. I took it when she wasn’t looking, and I just, I thought maybe if you didn’t know about the letter, you would be able to move on, y’know? Heal.”

“That was not your decision to make.”

“I know. [y/n], I’m so sorry. I can’t — I can’t even begin —“

“You’re right,” you interrupt her. “You can’t.”

You look down at the envelope in your hands, and shake your head. “God, Ro, I can barely look at you right now.”

“I’m sorry . . .”

You nod.

“I’ll . . . go wait for the car,” she nods, sadly and apologetically exiting the room.

You close the door behind her, and press your back against it. You slide to the floor, and bring the evelope close to your face. The day is not over, and you may need all night to take this in. You are not mentally prepared for whatever is in your hands, but, you rip it open anyway.

There’s a thin piece of paper inside. You pick it up, and it feels so frail that you worry it might rip. You set it on top of the envelope, and examine it. Your eyes dot over the page, until you realize, it’s not a letter at all.

American Airlines

[y/n] [y/l/n]

Seat: 14A

May Sixteenth, 2002

It’s a plane ticket. From fifteen years ago.

One you’ve never seen.

One you’ve never touched.

And now that it’s in your hands, you wish you never knew it existed.

#mgg #esny #tg #mine

[notmrskennedy]

Noticed

Spencer Reid x GN!Reader

A/N - Howdy! Here’s another little something from my drafts. It’s a draft and a half again so be gentle with it. Also, I’m touch averse and I would be so happy to find someone I wasn’t upset with touching. But c’est la vie! I hope y’all enjoy!

Summary - The touch averse agent starts getting touchy....

W/C - 2.5k

Warnings - none I think, but lmk if there is something

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

If Morgan was being honest with himself, he thought you were dying. Or maybe ill. Or so feverish you’d abandoned every single principle you had. Because he’d been there that first day of yours, waltzing up from the coffee machine to see you nervously trailing behind Hotch. It was painful to watch, he remembers, so terribly nervous you’d envy the kid on one of his bad days.

He had smiled at you and stirred his coffee and remained optimistic that someone so obviously terrified would be a decent field agent. (You’d been decent and then some, especially in an interrogation room). There’d been one non-committal wave—distinctly reminiscent of a certain genius—and the first full sentence of, “I’m sorry, but I just don’t do the touching thing. Handshakes included.”

Every little touch plagues you. You’re six inches away at all times, lest someone accidentally bump into you or get the wrong idea that you might be willing to brush shoulders. There’s no friendly pats. No high fives. Certainly no hugs. Garcia is furious in her attempt to loosen you up—to no avail—but Morgan knows better than to push. Something makes you hate skin to skin contact and he’s not looking to share trauma stories with you. Not yet.

So this, Morgan thinks as he wanders into the bullpen while stirring his coffee, is a sign that you’ve lost your mind.

He watches as you carefully extend one palm to one Dr. Spencer Reid. Perched on the edge of his desk, you’re a regular fixture, just another cute figurine to add to the collection. It’s the end to some wild discussion he could hear in the kitchenette, full of flailing limbs and butchered sentences. Everyone always thought it was cute, if you stripped away how irritating it could be.

This is the point where you two are caught up in whatever moment you’re having, so much so that you extend an upturned palm between the two of you. Reid threads his hands through his hair, stunned at your peace offering. Or maybe an offering of something more than friendship. Morgan assumes its something more; not only because you have the softest grin he’s ever seen, but because your fingers are practically begging the kid to hold your hand.

Reid’s careful in how he asks his question—Morgan doesn’t know what it is, but he can just tell. The wide eyes. The scared contemplation. The are you sure parting the kid’s lips.

Grinning and blushing, you just wiggle your fingers. Murmur something that Morgan isn’t allowed to hear. Something only for Spencer. There’s surprise before he grips onto your hand, wriggling all ten combined fingers together. You giggle as you spin him around in his desk chair and get tangled up.

Dropped jaw and grinning, Morgan can’t believe you, so touch averse you, are willing engaging in such risky behaviour. There’s a weird few moments when he wants to remind both of you to wear protection in such endeavours.

And as he’s wondering if hands need condoms, the two of you let go and move on like nothing’s happened. You go back to punctuating your points with your flailing hands. Spencer goes back to distracting from his blush with paperwork.

Morgan goes to get more coffee, trying to stop imaging that you two were his kids, growing up without his consent. And maybe also the hand condoms.

#

It’s shortly after JJ’s wedding—about midnight as the cleaning crew are picking up the straggling drunks—both Hotch and Rossi notice. They’re leaned up against the bar, each smoking a cigar, watching a slightly tipsy you teach an awkwardly sober Spencer Reid how to swing dance.

It’s no secret that you and Reid get on like a house on fire, two nerds that couldn’t shut up about whatever weird ass shit was on your brains. Rossi never made much move to care. Hotch was too stressed to think about what the pair of you did off company time. Everyone, them included, imagined that what time you did spend together was three feet apart. In museums. Wherever. No one questioned what kind of weird nerd shit you did, especially stuff that they couldn’t really be bothered to care about.

Now, they’re forced to carefully consider the implications of how touchy you’re getting. With Reid.

He’s even more gangly and uncoordinated than normal, as Hotch and Rossi watch on, getting thrown around like a rag doll. It’s kind of adorable, Rossi thinks and shares a well meaning look with Hotch. The two of you would be cute and he’s hoping that you do get together. Rossi always knows about these things, even if Hotch is positive that you two are just friends. And as two professional gentlemen do, they made a bet.

Twenty bucks.

Your laugh—one that no one gets tired of hearing—echoes around Rossi’s whole yard, even into his house. Reid’s voice is about two octaves too high as you spin him around on his wobbly feet. You go from three feet apart to chest to chest and back again. Rossi remembers high school dances vaguely and Hotch absently thinks about Hayley’s old infatuation with Grease.

Rossi takes another long drag from his cigar, grateful for the indisputable proof that you two are shacking up. There is no way that two people so touch averse could be touching this much without prior exposure. The yard is a ruckus of both of your laughters, year after year of awkwardness falling off you both in sheets. They’re no denying you two shut in nerds are finally having some fun.

It’s warming both Hotch and Rossi’s hearts.

And their bet.

#

Penelope notices next. Who knew that such a simple interaction could leave her speechless? Stammering and stuttering over not even a full minute of insanity.

She didn’t know how she’d gotten sick, or what she’d come down with, but the only thing that was keeping her in her work chair was you. And the endless buckets of soup that you kept pouring down her throat. Without a case—thank god—for the last couple days, all that you’ve done is sit in the bat cave, keeping her and her soup warm.

It’s as you are finishing some corny ass joke that she thinks how sweet you are. How loving. Penelope’s love language has always been touch—she’s given too many hugs to count—but it’s taken her a minute to figure out yours. And as she stares into the chicken soup in her hands, she realises that it’s everything you do for her. Your love is literally palpable.

It’s in the bright keychains you bring back. Or the crazy pens. Or the way you always drive her home after drinking.

As she’s opening her mouth to tell you, tell you just how much she appreciates everything, when Reid pops his head in, whole body following. He’s got too much of a grin this early. But when he’s far enough into the room, he spreads his fingers out over your shoulder and squeezes. Says something about a case and you follow behind him with a wave of your hand at Penelope. Like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

Like Penelope hasn’t been the one furiously trying to break you out of your shell. The predetermined first to get a hug in the office.

You’re still up and still waving and by the time she’s got her wits about her, she’s asking, “You let Reid touch you?”

The empty room and the closing door don’t answer.

#

JJ is nearly the last to find out. Well, your little touching relationship with Spencer has been the only topic of gossip between anyone for the last six weeks. They can’t believe they hadn’t picked up on the little bits of affection passed between the two of you.

Hand touches. Shoulder squeezes. Quick brushes. The mystical hug Morgan claims he once saw.

For the rest of the world, you and Spencer were nothing but friendly. Maybe even best friendly. To the team of highly trained profilers who had been friends with the pair of you for a combined 15 years, this was marriage material. This was you and Spencer screaming the pair of you had eloped.

You two crazy kids had to be together, but the team was left to sussing it out for themselves. Neither of you two would ever say anything, never give anything up. But surely, the three of them—using Penelope would be cheating of course—could figure out when you two had started up. Because you had to have. There was no way all of this was just friendly.

And it isn’t. That much is clear when JJ gets a phone call from you while she’s looking a crime scene over for what feels like the gazillionth time. Some un-sub with the usual cocktail of daddy issues, anger issues, and a healthy dose of narcissism.

It’s rare you call anyone without good reason. You aren’t the type to just chat—everyone has speculated you got enough of that from Spencer. And once JJ says hello, you start bawling.

You’re sobbing and JJ has no idea what to do.

“Y/n, y/n,” she tries, hoping you’ll calm down enough to breathe properly. “You have to tell me what’s wrong.”

“It’s—it’s Spencer,” you hiccup. JJ can hear you sniffling into your sleeves. Can hear the blinkers go as you change lanes. “He’s not answering—not answering his phone. And he said he’d—that he’d call, but he hasn’t. And JJ something’s wrong.”

By the way your breath hitches and your sobs crackle into the phone, JJ knows exactly how bad it has to be. Spencer, however, is supposed to be following up a lead with Emily. Some paint huffer in his mom’s garage—nothing more than a routine witness report. She almost can’t believe something would go wrong.

“What happened? Where are you?”

“JJ,” you sniffle before the flood gates open again, “I can just feel it. Something’s wrong.”

JJ’s mind scrambles. As much as you played it off, you had a sixth sense. Every time, every countable time, someone got hurt, you knew before it happened. You had a gut for these things and JJ didn’t want to think about how bad this was going to be. How bloody. So she scrambles for her car and doesn’t wait for the other detectives to figure it out.

JJ’s halfway to the witness’s house when you make it there yourself. You’re still on the phone, doing a horrible attempt at trying to keep each other calm. You’ve traded the sobs for hiccups, thankfully. JJ can hear you climbing the porch stairs. She’s taking corners at 65 miles an hour.

Nothing seems fast enough when JJ hears the phone clatter to the floor and the shout of “oh my god, Spencer!”

Nothing is fast enough when you’re sobbing out, “You can’t die on me like this.”

Nothing is fast enough when JJ quietly but distinctly hears, “I love you too much for you to fucking die, Spencer Reid.”

#

Spencer Reid always thinks he’s the last to find out. He’s blunt and oblivious and thinks too much to just see what’s in front of his face. He was so sure they had all seen how in love he was, just how desperately he was clinging to the hope they wouldn’t notice. If they didn’t notice, you wouldn’t. Not while wearing the same sort of blinders he wore.

But once everything had come out? He was positive everyone else had known. That he’d come into work one morning and there would be a cake engraved with the words, “Congrats on Shacking Up!”

It never happened. No cake. No lights. No surprises. No one seemed to know or notice or anything. Spencer and you went on like nothing had changed—it really hadn’t anyway. He liked to laugh when you told him the two of you had been practically dating since the first time he’d offered to take you to a Korean film festival.

Two years later and he’s become very aware of you. And also the ache. All of the very dull and consistent ache in his body. Another scar to add to the collection, he bitterly thinks, out of anaesthesia enough to know that he’s in a hospital. That he’s been hurt. That someone’s holding his hand.

It’s calloused and soft and just perfectly latched onto his. A hand he’d waited to hold for too long. One that he’d be holding for the rest of his life.

Attached to the hand is you, sleeping haphazardly between his bed and a plastic chair. Your fingers are tangled in his, head rested on the crook of your arm and the bed. There’s too much of you curled up in a chair. It’s one of his favourite bits about you, just how dedicated you could be. How you were always there when he woke up and always would be.

He smiles and chuckles despite the pain in his ribs. You wake with a start, one startled gasp followed by a shuddery exhale as you realise again where you are. That nothing’s changed. That everything’s changed.

Through lidded eyes, he watches your eyes light up, matching you grin for grin. He watches the anger flash across your face for not even a second, and he knows exactly how bad you want to murder him for scaring you so bad.

Instead, you press frantic kisses to the back of his knuckles, message fully received. You missed him. You’d been terrified. You’d cried so hard, he can still feel the salt on your lips.

“Spencer,” you breathe, giving his hand one more kiss for good measure and pressing his knuckles to your cheek. “God, I’m so glad you’re alive.”

“I’m alive, y/n, I promise,” he whispers back. Hoarse and adorably okay. It’s one thing to expect to get shot going after un-subs. It’s another to get attacked by a PCP addled grandmother.

He wiggles a finger against your cheek. Even though he can’t see your red rimmed eyes or the dark tear tracts on your cheeks, he can feel the tear that pools on his finger. But before he can reassure you one more time, you shush him and tell him to get some sleep and that you’ll both worry about this later. Maybe over jell-o.

He grins.

#

The team, visiting the next morning, doesn’t have the heart to wake up either of you. Reid looks happy for the first time in—years—with you carefully curled into his side. Sure, there’s a scratchy hospital gown and some pesky lines overriding everything, but it’s cute. No denying that. Thank god you two knuckleheads are finally being open about it. Even if you’re sleeping.

Emily smiles to herself as she readjusts her sling. Morgan and JJ are trading exclamations of shock, while Hotch passes Rossi twenty dollars. You readjust and Reid’s arm moves to rest across your cheek. JJ isn’t subtle when she takes a photo, sniggering.

Emily is even less subtle when she snorts. “I guess I can finally let the cat out of the bag.”

Everyone perks up; she swears she sees Reid open an eye.

“Nearly six months ago, y/n drunkenly confessed to dating Reid. She’s a real wild card on tequila, let me tell you.”

“You knew?” Morgan screeches, “and you didn’t say anything?”

Emily shrugs, winces with her busted up shoulder. “Does it matter? Didn’t we all know?”

#spencer reid #dr spencer reid #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #Criminal Minds #mgg #mgg fluff #fluff

[serendipidibidibidis]

Roommates, no refunds!

Out of everything Kun thought he was prepared to see he can definitely say that seeing his grandparents who live in China at a small cafe in South Korea next to his sisters girlfriend of almost five years was not something he expected.

“When did you guys get here?” Kun questioned as he pulled out his chair before sitting down.

“Wendy picked us up this morning!” His grandmother smiled before properly greeting her grandson.

“So Wendy now that we’re all here you had something you wanted to ask us?” His grandfather turned towards her with a loving gaze. Kun some times forgets that Wendy isn’t their granddaughter with how affectionate his grandparents are towards her.

“Yes, okay the reason I flew you guys in & wanted to meet without Y/n is because I need your approval.” Wendy starts.

“I would like to ask Y/n to marry me. But your approvals all mean a lot to m-“ Wendy was cut off with the unanimous response of “yes” and “it’s about time” she couldn’t help to hold back her smile. She didn’t think they’d be against her asking y/n to be her wife, however you can never be too sure.

“I have something else as well!!” Wendy spoke up once the excitement simmered down a bit.

“While you’re approvals are very important to me, I’d also feel wrong proposing to Y/n without meeting her parents. Which I know is complicated. But she’s told me they’re still in America & I was wondering if you’d be willing to help me plan some sort of trip.. I think it’s important. But do you think Y/n would be okay with that? It’s been a while since she’s been back to America & I don’t want to put her comfort above mine.” Wendy felt more nervous now than she did asking for their approval.

“I can get you the contact information for her dads side of the family! They’d probably be better at planning this out with than us!” Kun’s grandma smiled.

“Honestly, I think it’s something that would be really good for Y/n.” Your grandpa spoke up “besides it’s not like she doesn’t have other family in America she gets along with. I know her fathers parents would be ecstatic to meet you!” He smiled.

“Wendy before we get too far past this subject, you don’t by chance have a ring picked out yet do you?”

Reaching out to your uncle on your fathers side was terrifying to Wendy.

You didn’t realize just how nervous you were to fly back to America until you boarded the plan. You didn’t realize how worried you were to be in America until Wendy pointed out if you squeeze her hand any harder you’ll break it. You apologized quickly loosing your grip before Wendy tightens her hold.

“I didn’t say you had to let go, I understand this is a lot for you” she reassured while you waited for your luggage.

Your uncle was in charge with picking you up from the airport and it didn’t really hit you until you saw his car pull up in the airport parking lot that you realized you’d be seeing the man who reminded you so much of your father for the first time in years. You didn’t mean to immediately break into tears when he greeted you, yet here you are bawling in his arms. He and Wendy both found it amusing, the ride to his house was thankfully very distracting from your worries as you got to hear him and Wendy talking & laughing. Your grandparents where waiting for your arrival. You had expected to be a complete mess upon seeing them again & you were correct. Although it was extremely emotional, it was good. You were catching up with your relatives & meeting your younger cousins in person for the first time. Both of them were much more interested in your pretty girlfriend than they were you, but can you really blame them? You had a big family dinner with talks of visiting your parents tomorrow before heading to bed with Wendy.

“Thank you so much” you muttered as you laid in bed hugging your girlfriend.

“Babe you don’t need to thank me for anything at all! I should be thanking you for introducing me to your family.” She smiled.

It wasn’t until the next morning when Wendy started to doubt her plans. While she very much wanted to meet your parents, she didn’t want to intrude on your first time seeing them in a long time..

“Are you sure you want me to come with? I can just stay in the car if you’d prefer?” Wendy asked for the nth time I’m the last 15 minutes alone.

“Wannie, baby please.” You said holding her hands. “I need you to be there for me. I’ve never visited my parents here. I’m terrified, you’ve been my only consistency since loosing my parents & I need you to be by my side. I don’t want to force you to come with if you’re uncomfortable, but I’m really not sure if I can do this without you.” You told her truthfully.

“Of course I’ll be there for you.” Wendy assures before you both headed towards the car.

“Well this is us.” Your uncle said before stopping in front of two headstones side by side. Both their headstones were beautifully crafted. It’s truly a shame given the circumstances as you will never be able to appreciate their beauty considering these were the markers to your parents. You instantly plopped to the ground, landing a bit harder than you intended.

“I’ve missed you both so much” you spoke. You had so much you wanted to say to your parents and now that you’re with them you are speechless.

“Uncle brought me here. Are you guys doing well? I actually brought someone with me as well. I’d really like you to meet her. She’s my girlfriend, I met her in college in South Korea we started as roommates. She treats me really well. I know you’d both love her so much” you spoke. Wendy knelt down besides you before she introduced herself. Watching her speak to your parents was extremely reassuring. Although tears were streaming down your face you also had a smile adoring your lips. Your uncle rubbed your back as you stood up & he motioned for you to take a few steps back from Wendy and your parents.

“Do you see that kid? You’ve found yourself a really good person. I know I cannot replace your parents, but I can assure you your father would agree with me when I say that I approve of her. They must be looking out for you huh?” He spoke softly your eyes never left Wendy’s form crouched in-front of your parents. You couldn’t hear what she was saying anymore, but had you been able to you would’ve heard her telling them her plan about asking to marry you soon. That she hoped they would approve of her. Letting your parents know she still had a few more approvals she wanted to get before officially asking you, but she promised to return with you as soon as she did. As you knelt down besides Wendy you heard her ensuring that she would take great care of you. Of course you had to vouch for her telling them she’s already doing so. You don’t recall how long you stayed and spoke to your parents, but you do know once you were done you were ready for a week long nap. Which you decided to start once you made it back to your uncles house. Wendy saw this as the perfect opportunity to speak with your uncle.

“If it’s not to much to ask do you think your parents and yourself could have a secret conversation without Y/n knowing?” She asked causing your uncle to raise a brow before she rushed to assure it was nothing bad. Of course he agreed and was happy to drive over to his parents house with her right then.

“Mom dad, Wendy has something to speak with us about” he announced walking into their house before even officially greeting them. Your grandmother was happy to invite them inside asking if they needed anything to drink before everyone was seated in their living room all eyes on Wendy.

“Okay I know this might be a hard question for me to ask you as you’ve only just met me, but I do actually have a reason for visiting.” Wendy started.

“I don’t need an answer now, just before Y/n and I have to leave would be great, but..” Wendy paused quickly digging something out of her bag before keeping the object concealed with her hands.

“I’m planning on asking Y/n to marry me, and your approvals all mean a lot to me. But with your approval of me I’d also like your blessing on the ring I will be using” Wendy moved to open the small box she was holding showing off the ring.

“How? Where did you get this?” Your grandmother spoke practically in tears

“When meeting with Y/n’s maternal grandparents I was informed about them having her mothers wedding ring. They told me it’s a family heirloom from your side and that they thought it would be a great way to pass it down to Y/n. However if you’d like I can find something else & you can keep this ring as I know it’s important to you guys” Wendy spoke before waiting for an answer.

“Wendy?” Your grandfather spoke causing her to make eye contact with him.

“I’ll give you my blessing under one condition”

“Anything” she replied feeling anxious.

“Use that ring when you propose” he spoke before your grandmother lightly smacked his chest

“You should make her promise to treat Y/n properly and force her to come visit us more not something she was already planning on doing!” She scolded

“You think she wasn’t planning on treating her well?!” Your grandfather argued back causing Wendy to let out a nervous laugh before your uncle stepped in & broke up their lovers quarrel.

“Wendy what my parents are trying to say is, absolutely you have our blessings!” He smiled.

To say Wendy was on cloud nine was a bit of an understatement. She had the approval of both sets of grandparents, your uncle, and your brother, as well as the rest of red velvet and Winwin pressuring her to pop the question already. She could only hope your parents would’ve approved of her the same way the rest of your family does. Her own family was also very excited upon hearing her plans to propose to you in the very near future. Now her only problem was figuring out when and where she wanted to propose to you. The two of you never specifically talked about an ideal proposal. In the back of her mind she was wildly aware that you’d be okay with her asking you to marry her in any fashion yet she still felt like it needed to be perfect. On the drive back to your uncles place all Wendy could think about was how she could possibly propose.

“You okay kid?” Your uncle spoke breaking Wendy out of her thoughts

“Yes, I’m just thinking about how and where I should propose. I want it to be special for Y/n.” She responded.

“Would you like my take?” Your uncle asked to which Wendy happily agreed.

“Well, I know you mentioned you wanted to have the family’s blessings- which you do- however I think it would be really nice of you to do it here in America. I’m not saying you need to propose at the cemetery, but I think if Y/n’s parents were included in some way or another that would make it extra special for her. Because while the rest of us are able to travel for your wedding, her parents unfortunately cannot physically join us. I know something Y/n spoke about doing was having a picnic with her parents, so maybe you could join her and either before or after having that picnic you propose? Again I’m just giving ideas nothing needs to be included!” Your uncle actually gave Wendy a good idea. Let’s hope you agreed as well.

Your last full day in America came sooner than you were ready for and all you wanted to do was see your parents again. Wendy had mentioned getting lunch and spending the afternoon with them so that you could have a little more time with them since you don’t know when you plan on returning and you really liked the idea. Your uncle agreed to drive you to get lunch for your ‘picnic’ if you will, before dropping you off to spend the afternoon with your parents.

“Let me know when you’re ready for me to pick you up! Be safe!” Your uncle hollered as you exit his car. It didn’t take long for you to set up the blanket before you both sat down & greeted your parents again. It was really comforting that you had someone else who was willing to talk to your parents the same way you were. Wendy made it feel as if the two of you had gone home to visit your parents as opposed to sitting in a cemetery in front of their headstones. After enjoying your lunch you both decided to lay down due to your full bellies.

“Thank you Wendy.” You spoke up not taking your eyes off the clouds

“You don’t have to thank me Y/n.” She was quick to respond.

“No you don’t understand how much this means to me. You came to visit my family with me, not only did you ensure I saw my parents, you also comforted me by making it feel like they’re still around. Today feels like we went to the park with them as opposed to you and I sitting in the cemetery they’re buried in. It means so much to me. I know my parents would absolutely love you.” It felt bitter sweet to think about your parents approval of Wendy. Yes you were your own person, yes you had extremely supportive parents when they were alive, you cannot help but wonder how they’d react to Wendy. What would your parents insist she call them? How long would you date before they asked if you had plans of getting married? Would your parents befriend Wendy’s parents? There was so much you wanted to know and experience with your parents. What about Wendy would your parents love? Before meeting Wendy when you wished to just have one more day with them you wanted to be able to say goodbye to them. after meeting Wendy when you wished to see your parents not only did you want to give them a proper goodbye, you wanted them to meet Wendy. You knew you’d never get the proper goodbye. What you didn’t expect was for any level of Wendy and your parents meeting. Granted this wasn’t nearly the same, but it meant so fucking much to you.

“Y/n?” Wendy asked softly after she sat up. You hummed in response sitting up yourself.

“Thank you for letting me meet your family, your grandparents, your uncle, your brother, your cousins, your parents, all of the family you’ve let me meet. Thank you for allowing me the opportunity to meet them all. But I have something I need to confess to you” Hearing that last sentence made your heart and mind race.

“I’ve met with your grandparents, uncle, and Kun before getting this approval. I’d like to think your parents would give me this approval as well, but I will never truly know. Being your roommate, friend, and girlfriend have all been wonderful however I think we should upgrade our title once again if you’re okay with that” Wendy spoke

“Wait Wendy are yo-“ you tried to ask before Wendy continued answering your question

“Will you do me the honors of becoming my fiancé and eventually becoming my wife? I don’t see my life without you and I want to spend the rest of my life making you happy. Y/n will you marry me?” Wendy asked before pulling out a box. Of course you said yes before she could open the box however once you saw your mothers ring you couldn’t help the mixture of sobs and ‘yes oh my god of course’ that left your mouth. You never realized how much your hand shakes until Wendy tried to put the ring on your finger. You both giggled after a few minutes of unsuccessful attempts before Wendy just took hold of your hand saying she’s put it on once you both calmed down.

“I know my parents would absolutely approve of this by the way” you spoke before giving Wendy a kiss.

“I hope i was able to make a good impression” she smiled along side you.

Once you climbed into your uncle’s care you heard him oohing and ahhing.

“Wow look at you all proposed to!” He beamed. Causing you to blush while you nodded. Showing off the ring that adorned your left hand perfectly.

Roommates, no refunds!

Reader x Wendy | featuring Brother!Kun, Nct, and Red Velvet. Will add more if there’s more.

Previous | 31 | Epilogue

When Kun’s sister transfers to SMU Korea & left without a place to stay due to a mix up, Sorority sister Wendy who got a double room instead of her single room gets a last minute roommate. Maybe?

⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀⠀

#kpop scenarios #kpop imagine #kpop sm au #girl group imagines #kpop fluff #red velvet seungwan #red velvet wendy #red velvet scenarios #red velvet sns #girl group scenarios

[my-arlington-academia]

Cliffany part 2

O-kay, and that’s it! I don’t know if I’ll write a continuation tbh since it was just a silly little idea that came out of nowhere. (Although I did have some ideas for more!) I haven’t really been active on my fanblog lately so it’s not like it’ll make much of a difference though haha. By the way, I’m thinking about making my blog more "Dulcet-oriented" rather than just SE. I hope you guys don’t mind? Recently, I’ve been getting more and more into Black Tarot! So expect my blog to change a lil 🔮🕯🌌

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

It had been a couple of days now since Tiffany’s last interaction with Claire, and while she was still ignoring her like before, Tiffany’s efforts in doing so had increased. The moment she spotted her in the corner of her eye, she would move at a faster pace, as if running away. Was it guilt after all? No, she just didn’t have the energy to deal with Claire’s annoying and unnecessary empathy. The empathy that she knew she didn’t deserve which made her feel even more frustrated towards Claire.

All she should be worried about right now is getting more followers on Instaglam, not avoiding a nobody like the plague. On that note, spring was coming soon, the flowers started to blossom and the days were getting longer which meant... that the "cottagecore" tag on insta would go trending soon, no doubt! And of course, living on the Arlington campus as one of its students, this gave Tiffany the access to its beautiful garden. Although honestly, she only ever went there to take pictures and this time wasn’t any different. She had prepared some tea sets and dresses for the occasion, all of which she would throw away once spring went away along with its "trends."

Carried by her confident footsteps, she walked to the garden. That confidence was only a facade though. She knew exactly what kind of people and who in particular went to take strolls quite often in this goddamn garden. But hey, it was 7pm and the sun would soon start to set. Knowing that Claire always arrives 15 minutes in advance to any meeting and most likely always wakes up at 6am, there was nothing to be worried about. Chances are, she was either doing her homework before going to bed like a goody-two-shoes or watering her weird-ass plants. Tiffany always had the horror of seeing these at Raquel’s parties. It just didn’t fit at all with the rest of what was going on in the room and ruined the whole "party" vibe.

In any case, there she was, searching for a good spot to take pictures and set up a fake picnic. That basket filled with different colored blankets, tea sets, biscuits, tea and a pie was way heavier than Tiffany had initially thought. Maybe she really should’ve asked for collab pictures with Trisha from the fine arts department. She didn’t really like her but when it came to follower count they were surprisingly close, although Tiffany was still number one of course. Still, if she had asked for a collab they could’ve carried those heavy props together.

After finding a good spot next to the pond, Tiffany set everything up in an aesthetically pleasing manner and got down to taking the pictures. She was taking different shots to post them one by one throughout the week and give out the illusion that she was taking those the same day she posted them. She was ready to upload the first one, call it a day and go back to the dorms without touching any of the tea or cakes. It’s all just useless calories anyways. As she was putting the tags on the picture, she started wondering what were the names of those flowers in the background.

"Ugh, fuck. What are those orange shits called again?"

"Marigolds."

"Ah right, thank y-"

Tiffany immediately snapped her head back. This annoyingly gentle voice could only belong to one person.

"...What the fuck, Claire. Where did you pop out from?!"

There’s no was she was there the whole time, right? It’s true that Tiffany could get lost in what she was doing once she was focused but it wasn’t to the point where she became completely unaware of her surroundings.

"I came by a few minutes ago... Y-you looked so invested in what you were doing that I didn’t want to bother you! I didn’t mean to pry."

Well, Tiffany could always upload those damn pictures from her room. Claire’s arrival just meant that it was time for her to leave. However, seeing that Tiffany started packing up her things, Claire panicked thinking that it’s her fault. Which was in fact, her fault... in a way.

"O-oh! You’re not going to finish your picnic? I’m so sorry, I’ll just leave! Throwing all of this good food away would be such a waste-"

"Are you fucking dumb?"

Did she not get that this was all only a set-up for taking pictures? It was obvious that Tiffany didn’t have any intention of eating or drinking any of that. Not to mention that after everything that happened the other day, she was still not scared of approaching her?

"I don’t give a damn about the food, it was just for my social media accounts you dumb bit- ... dimwit. I was already done anyway so you don’t have anything to do with the fact that I’m leaving."

"I see! T-then maybe I can help?!"

Help? What did Claire even know about- Actually, on second thought. This whole "cottagecore" shtick was a great fit for Claire. She probably already had all of the things Tiffany bought last week for those pictures, even better and more authentic-looking ones probably. This was maybe the one and only time Tiffany would let Claire "help" her. But from her point of view, she was mostly just using her.

"Hm. Is that so? How can you help me then... Claire."

"Wait just a second! I’ll be back right away!!!"

She ran immediately towards the dorms. Well, she'll probably bring a bunch of random stuff. In the end, Tiffany was really torn between the idea of staying and waiting for who knows how long and the idea of leaving right now. Surely, Claire would make a hilarious expression when she’d realize that she was played with and abandoned. While trying to laugh it off, Tiffany accidentally remembered what happened a few days ago, along with Claire’s crying face. Damn... Okay, fine. She’ll wait for her but only because it would be annoying if she bawled again like a damn toddler.

And so she waited until, from the corner of her eyes, she saw a girl with a pink dress running towards her. That girl, of course, being Claire. She carried a picnic basket with her too, but much bigger and more practical. For half a second, Tiffany thought that Claire actually looked maybe, just maybe, a little bit pretty. She erased the thought in a hurry, covering it with harsh words as usual.

"Wh-why did you change your clothes? You think I’m gonna take pictures of you?"

"Ah, no, well..."

Claire looked at the beautiful picnic set-up and the cyan dress Tiffany was wearing.

"I just wanted to fit in with the rest of what you put up, I guess. Also, don’t you think that we kinda match? I brought some of the cookies I baked and my favorite teas and tea set. I think mine will look better with your picnic blanket! Uh- N-not to say that yours looks bad!!!"

She was trying so hard to make herself likable that it was painful to see... and kinda cute. God, Tiffany was really hating her thoughts today. She was just going soft because of Claire’s aura or something. Again, this was definitely the first and last time she was letting Claire help her with anything. I’d be bad if she turns completely brain-dead and clueless like her.

"...Whatever. Show me what you got. I’ll decide if it’s good enough."

Claire was pulling everything out of the basket one by one. Everytime, better and better items were pulled out after the other. Her cakes and cookies gave off a "homey" feeling which was more fitting with the aesthetic rather than Tiffany’s store bought patisseries. Claire was staring at her, wide-eyed and excited.

"W-what do you think, Tiffany? It looks good, doesn’t it?!"

"Uh. Yeah, it’s fine, I guess. I’ll take a few pics."

That was a lie. This looked so much better than the try-hard bullshit Tiffany had done. She was good at riding on the "trend wave" but Claire was a natural when it came to this one specific thing. Tiffany was trying to look as poker-faced as she could so as to not show her satisfaction, but clearly, her apparent enthusiasm for each shot was  betraying her. Sometimes, she would accidentally take one with Claire in the shot and ask her to move.

"Hey. You’re ruining the picture with your ugly fac- dress. Move to the right."

Before Tiffany could even do anything about it, Claire was already pouring some tea into 2 cups.

"Woah woah woah, put the teapot down. I didn’t agree to this."

"But...This is a kettle, Tiffany. Not a teapot."

"Oh, shut it!"

Claire gave off such a dejected face that Tiffany, once again, felt like she was kicking a poor puppy to the ground. She held back on going off on a rant.

"But we’re already here and the weather is so nice! It would be such a shame not to use any of this at all..."

Claire looked around, observing this beautiful setting, not to mention, the sun was finally starting to set. Going home right now would be like an insult to the utter beauty of this scene, it almost looked like it came right out of a fairy tale picture book. Without mulling it over any further, Tiffany took a sip out of her cup.

"I’m only doing this because I feel compelled to, got it?"

Claire’s eyes lit up nonetheless.

"Alright! Please try out my cookies too!"

Tiffany contemplated them for a second... is it true that home-made stuff is more healthy? Surely, that’s just a myth, right? A cake from the store and a home-made cake will have about the same amount of sugar in them regardless of who made them and how. Well, she did see Claire share her food from time to time with her friends and while she would never admit it, it is true that she was a bit curious about trying them herself. What was the last time she had eaten anything "home-made"? Or did it ever even happen?

"...Okay, whatever. I bet they taste shitty."

Tiffany reluctantly took a bite... It was surprisingly really delicious!

"It’s bad."

"R-really?"

As much as she wanted to lie about it, she couldn’t after seeing Claire make that dejected face again.

"Uhhh. No, um. Hmm... On second thought, it’s pretty average. It’s okay-ish."

Tiffany really hated herself right now. Being mean has never been this hard before. She couldn’t wait for the moment where they would be done with this ridiculous play-pretend and go back to her room. She tried drinking and eating as fast as she could without making it look like she was in a hurry to run away from this awkward situation. And God, it was so fucking hard...

Unsurprisingly, they were both pretty silent the whole time. Well, it wasn’t like they had anything to converse about or things in common. Right as Tiffany was about to get up and pack up her belongings, for real this time, Claire spoke up. Nervously fiddling with the hem of her dress.

"Um. So you know, I have something to confess to you, Tiffany."

Oh God, not now. As much as Tiffany found this timing annoying, she couldn’t help but poke fun at that poor choice of words.

"Confess? Oh my, so you like me in that way, huh? That explains everything."

"Wha- N-no! That’s not it! I mean, realistically speaking, t-that would never even happen!"

Was she implying that she could never like someone like Tiffany? Well, Tiffany herself was the one who brought this up but she was a bit offended at that statement. Regardless though, the way she was trying to deny it so hard was kinda cute. No. Not cute at all! If this went on, Tiffany would really become crazy before the end of this day.

"Last time, you said that I was only being kind towards others to profit off of them and I didn’t say anything but... that wasn’t true at all! I always wanted to help you because I thought that you needed it, I swear. Not to satisfy myself! ... Well. Except maybe..."

"Except...?"

"T-today. I admit that I kind of had ulterior motives."

Now that piqued Tiffany’s curiousness right away. Suddenly, she didn’t want to leave as much anymore if it meant that Claire would finally admit that she did some things for her own benefit. Why was it? Did she want to post a picture of herself on Tiffany’s Instaglam to fish for compliments, knowing that she had a lot of followers? Claire hid her face behind her hands and muttered a few words.

"I... wanted you to warm up to me."

"...Huh?"

That’s it? That was it? Claire’s ulterior motive was for Tiffany to "warm up to her."?

"So like, you want us to be friends or some shit?"

"Oh no! Not necessarily that far, just... good acquaintances!"

Is she stupid? There’s no way that she genuinely thinks those "motives" are bad. Tiffany sighed in exasperation.

"Listen. I’m just really tired right now, I don’t have the energy to assimilate all the shit you’re saying. I’m packing all of this up and going back to the dorms."

In complete silence, they gathered all of their belongings and walked to the dorms while keeping a fair distance between the 2 of them. As if to say, "we’ve got nothing to do with each other." Surprisingly, Claire didn’t try anything anymore. Didn’t even wish for a "good night" or a "good evening" which was weird to say the least. Tiffany tried to ignore it and when she got back and unpacked all of the props, she noticed something that didn’t belong to her. One of Claire’s lunch boxes with cookies in them and... a note?

Here’s my number just in case ;3 Please give me my lunchbox back once you’re done eating the cookies!♡

"...Your note makes me wanna barf."

So that’s why she didn’t try anything. That sneaky little... she must've slid that into the basket when they were packing. She already knew that Tiffany would eventually be forced to talk to her again... as if! Who says she’ll return it? She can just throw all the cookies away along with the box... Or so she thought. Tempted, she took a bite, then another one. And another one. Her diet was ruined for sure now. Damn you Claire and your stupidly great cooking skills, as if you needed another skill to be better and more perfect than you already are. Tiffany put the box away, trying to forget the delicious taste and smell. Back to Instaglam she goes. Uploading the picture while adding the "marigold" tag on it. Going through the pictures again, she noticed that some of them had Claire in the corner. She was thinking of deleting them but... well whatever. She can just crop her out later if needed. Her dress looks pretty so it’s fine even if she does appear in the pictures. All we see is a bit of her hair, as long as her face isn’t visible, it’s okay. Yup. It was totally not because Tiffany was slowly starting to feel something towards the girl she was trying so hard not to get involved with.

#sweet elite #claire durand #tiffany #cliffany #crackship #fanfics

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Well This is Strange and Unexpected [Toshinori x Reader] [Part 2]

<- Part 1 | Part 3 ->

Summary: Toshinori struggles with your unfavorable opinion of his heroic alter-ego, but tries his hardest to impress you on a second date! Now… how do people date again?

4,537 words | SFW

“Wh-wh-what are you saying? You don’t like All Might?”

“I am just so tired of how everybody loves him! ‘I got the All Might special-edition action figure.’ ‘Well I got his autograph,’” you parrot in a mocking tone. “Whoop-de-friggen-doo. And he’s such an annoying showboat—like, I appreciate the crime he stops, but half the time he’s just striking a pose in front of news cameras shouting some dumb catchphrase. Go catch a bag guy and quit bragging about it! But you know what pisses me off most of all—all the swooning and fangirling. Why are so many women even into him?! All those beefy muscles are so ugly, he’s like an upside-down stack of potatoes! Who likes that?”

Toshinori is just staring, slack jawed, at you. Like you kicked his puppy.

“Sorry for going off like that, I shouldn’t tear apart something you obviously like.”

Is what you should have said.

Instead, you inhale, and, “Another thing! He’s not even edgy, or interesting—there’s no depth there, he’s just… all powerful and perfect? It’s so boring! All flash and no substance. If I was going to root for a hero, it’d be someone like Eraserhead. So dark and gruff, never putting himself in the spotlight, letting the work speak for itself.”

“I… I’ve gotta go.” He stands robotically and walks toward the door. Oh, shit. Your heart sinks.

“Wait!” you run after him and grab his arm. “I’m sorry. I was being mean. It’s just, All Might stuff is everywhere and it feels like I can’t escape it,” you laugh. “But if you’re a fan, that’s OK. I won’t make fun of him. I really am sorry.” He finally turns around to face you.

“I meant the phone call. I gotta go. Emergency.” He holds up the glowing screen.

“Oh.”

He smiles and pats you on the head. But he’s more subdued than he was a minute ago, and there’s a pain in his eyes when he looks at you that wasn’t there before. He probably did take it really personally when you insulted his hero. Idiot.

“Do you really think All Might is ugly?” he asks quietly, gathering his things by the door. “There’s nothing appealing about him at all?”

“Like I said, you’re my type.”

He lets out a quiet, almost melancholy breath of a laugh. He turns to you, and wraps his long arms around you, pulling you into a gentle embrace. It’s not a particularly passionate hug—his touch is so light, he’s barely making contact at all—but he’s tall enough to rest his chin on top of your head.

“You’re a strange one,” he whispers.

You close your eyes and breathe him in. He smells a lot like iron and convenience-store floor, actually, could be a lot more romantic. But you feel content so close to this scarecrow, with his soft bangs hanging down and brushing your skin. You almost let out a whine when he finally pulls away.

“So, will I see you again?” You ask, nervous about the answer. He couldn’t have been that serious about that All Might stuff, right? But if you chased him off, at this point, it might break your heart.

“Definitely.” A wide grin splits his whole face as he strikes a heroic pose. “My debating skills cannot be defeated! Next time, I’ll convince you All Might is the greatest hero!”

“Oh my god, get out of my house.”

 ****

Toshinori couldn’t believe it. Today of all days. First he wore himself out doing hero work in the morning. Then USJ was attacked and he pushed past his limit to rescue his students, nearly died, and once again reduced the amount of time he can remain in his muscle form. On top of all that, now, today of all days is when a couple of everyday bullies decide to hassle him.

He just had to go for a walk instead of getting a cab straight home. Had to stop to pick up medicine, even though it was already getting dark. Were such simple things really so hard for the number-one hero now?

He would laugh if it weren’t so pathetic.

It wasn’t like this had never happened before. Every once in awhile some delinquent singles him out, expecting a weak target, but even in his weak form, on a normal day, he would easily dodge and evade them, quickly diffusing the situation.

But today. Today he was done. He had already gone beyond what he had to give, and gone beyond that again, and he was out.

There were plenty of witnesses in the store, but nobody was going to stop to help, just pretending they couldn’t see. He was practically invisible in this form. Nobody cares what happens to some creepy, worn-down old man. It’s better this way, anyway. What kind of hero would he be if someone got hurt rescuing him?

This was really going to happen. He was really going to have his ass kicked by some random jerks. How had he fallen so low?

Then you appeared.

There was nothing he could do to stop you from putting yourself in danger: he could barely move. That kick caught him right in his weak spot, the old wound Nomu had already agitated earlier that day. A sickening, warm gurgling of fluids squished in his lungs, making each breath a battle against the encroaching darkness.

Run away. Just run away!

You obviously weren’t a hero, you didn’t have any training, that was clear in the way you carried yourself. But you were brave. Brave enough to piss those guys off. You just kept telling them off like you had no sense of self-preservation, until—he saw one of them about to throw a punch at you, and his nostrils flared in anger. He would have to—have to force himself to transform, no matter how it would hurt him, no matter how many people would see. He couldn’t let this happen—

Then you did something his pride would never have let him consider: you just started shrieking.

It worked. You saved yourself, and him, though it was even more humiliating than letting himself get beat up. There he was, suffocating on his own blood where anyone walking by could see what a helpless weakling he was… and now there was a girl bawling loudly on that same floor, drawing everyone’s attention to the intensely embarrassing scene.

Time to crawl into a hole and never show his face again?

He had to hand it to you though, you knew what you were doing. You forced all the silent spectators to admit they were paying attention—forced them to get involved. You had the heart of a hero, all right.

Everything after that seemed to happen so fast. Losing consciousness, learning that you had risked your well-being once again for him with your quirk. The shame he felt, seeing you suffering the same symptoms he was. Then suddenly, you were asking him out?

He was used to getting attention all the time in his muscle form, but in his true form, he was so invisible he could transform into All Might in public and nobody ever noticed. Like there was nobody standing there before All Might magically showed up.

His head swam dizzily when you said that he was your type. How could you be serious? But it seemed you were, even though he had been nothing but helpless. Even though you were coughing up blood because of him. What in the world were you seeing?

You were so boldly affectionate with him—though every time you did something unreserved, you started turning red and shaking, like you were acting with your heart before your head could talk you out of it. Even his hideous scar, and the frustrating health issues he doesn’t like to burden others with, you accepted without even a moment of disgust or fear. You reached out and touched it without thinking, and then blushed. It was so cute.

Being adored and praised as All Might was easy to brush off, but this? He had never had someone pressed against his body so affectionately as this drained husk. As the thing he was slowly becoming, permanently. There was at least one person who still saw him. He could get used to that feeling—that warmth in his chest. 

Then his phone rang—that custom ringtone he recorded himself! For a moment, he thought you were putting it together: the blond hair, two long bangs, the eyes, the voice.

But no, instead he got an even bigger shock. You don’t like All Might?!

How can he go out with someone who doesn’t like All Might? He is All Might!

Obnoxious? Ugly?? SHE PREFERS AIZAWA?!?!

Nope. That’s it. That is more than he can take.

But then there you were, pulling at his arm with those puppy-dog eyes, apologizing. You didn’t mean anything against him. You just didn’t know. You couldn’t know. He can’t blame you for having an opinion about a public figure. Even he had to admit his public persona could be a little… much.

He checked the caller before dismissing it. It was Nezu, so it probably was important. Not exactly a lie. It’s a shame to leave early, but he didn’t want you to know how shaken he was.

To be honest, he’s been starting to resent All Might a little, himself. He used to be that brawny, handsome hero, but now… now it’s just a mask he puts on. A flashy act for the crowds, and they eat it up, while his real self is overlooked and treated like a punching bag. Of course he resents it, just a little.

It’s actually kind of tickling that you prefer him this way. Pretty soon, it’s all he’ll be.

But he is All Might, too! If you only knew him better, you would realize how awesome he is! After all, All Might is the same person you had a wonderful evening with, laughing and watching movies—the same person you wanted a second date with. Yes, he’s sure you would like all of him if you got to know him! He’ll win you over!

 ****

“Next time, I’ll convince you,” he said. Next time.

After 15 minutes, you get a text from Toshinori’s number. “Oh good, did he make it home safely?” you wonder.

It’s a short essay about All Might.

Ping!

Another text from Toshi. Also about All Might.

Ping!

Did you know crime rates fell by over 20 percent since All Might debuted?

Ping!

His confident demeanor isn’t just showboating, it’s about instilling confidence in—

Ping!

Look at this video of All Might rescuing puppies! PUPPIES!!

You shake your head and laugh, a warm smile on your face. Hero fanatics may be annoying, but Toshi is kind of adorable. It’s so wide-eyed and innocent how much he loves—

Ping! Ping! Ping!

Yeah, never mind, it’s annoying. You text back a single message:

lol.

You can practically hear his internal screaming from across town. You snicker. He was right, you are a little devious.

*********************************************

Toshinori was as busy as he said he’d be. After the flurry of texts, it was over a week before you heard from him again. You thought he might want to watch the U.A. Sports Festival together, since he was such a fan of hero stuff (and All Might would be involved this year—eye roll), but he said he had too much to do.

You wondered if that was true, or if he could hear your eyes rolling through the text message. Maybe your snarky response to his hero obsession had spoiled things, and he’d keep on making excuses until you took the hint.

But a day later, he called back (yes, called—who does that?) and apologized so vehemently, you knew he meant what he’d said all along. He was just busy. But he was going to have some free time over the next week, and wants to see you again!

He shows up at your door with a bouquet of pink, white, and periwinkle flowers in his hands, wearing an oversized blazer and tie. It’s like he’d watched an old Fred Astaire movie to figure out what people on dates are supposed to look like.

“Aww, Toshinori!” you clasp your hands under your chin. “What did I say about marriage? You’re not here to propose, are you?”

He looks down at himself, then at your casual attire. “I overdid it, huh?”

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?”

“I’ve been told it’s a problem of mine,” he scratches the back of his head, giving a lopsided grin.

“No, it’s adorable!” You take the flowers, brushing your fingers against his, and bury your nose in the fragrant petals. You look up at him with a sultry, playful gaze. “Though… I might need to change into something more formal now, or it’ll look like I hired you.” A fountain of blood shoots from his mouth.

You drop the bouquet and throw your arm under his shoulder in case he falls, the other hand instinctively placing itself over his scar, the source of his affliction. He jumps back with surprising agility, as if evading an attack.

“Don’t,” he warns. “Don’t use your quirk on me again. I’m much better today—the bleeding is always going to happen, so don’t push yourself.”

You hold your hands up in surrender. “OK. I wasn’t going to. Probably. I definitely won’t now. It’s really a regular issue?”

He nods. “I’m sorry if it bothers you.”

“No, no, I was just curious.” You take his hand and lead him inside. He explains his condition, while you find a vase for the flowers. He takes off his jacket and tie, folding them over the arm of the couch. With just a white button-up, he immediately comes down to a more casual level, better matching your outfit. He throws his arms wide to ask, “What do you think?”

You think he looks slender and gorgeous, and just disheveled enough that you want to comb your fingers through his hair, and just dapper enough that you want to undo one more button.

“Perfect!” You throw finger guns at him, “Just a couple of slobs out for a date!”

 ****

Unfortunately, he has a reservation at a fancy restaurant. Very fancy. One of those places where the floors are marble and everyone wears black. Now you feel way under-dressed, and wish he’d warned you that’s why he was dressed so nice. You don’t even want to look at the prices on the menu.

You had hoped this date would be more exciting, considering the first one started with a brawl. That was a real ice-breaker. Here, the atmosphere is so quiet and formal, you’re almost afraid to speak, and a tense silence builds between you. Toshinori doesn’t seem to be having a great time either.

“You’re barely eating anything,” you note him lethargically picking at his plate. “Do you not like the food?”

“No, I just can’t eat much at once, so…”

“But the portions here are really big! Why would you want to come here?”

“It… seemed like the kind of place you’re supposed to go for a date!”

“Are you kidding?” you shout, half standing up from your seat, too loudly for the restaurant, whose more dignified customers glare and scoff. You sit back down and cover your face with your hand. And you just start laughing. A quiet chuckle at first, but soon you can’t even contain it, your shoulders wracking, and your head tossed back.

“Wh-what’s so funny?” Toshi looks scared.

“I hate it here!” you spurt out, still laughing. “This is the worst! It’s way too stuffy, and you can’t even eat the food.”

“I hate this place too! I just thought women like this sort of thing.”

You sputter and howl, slapping the table. “What are we even doing here?”

“We’re getting the bill!” He calls the waiter over, who is happy to shoo you ruffians out of the fine establishment.

 ****

Out in the fresh air and sunlight, you feel like you can finally talk to each other. He apologizes for being too old-fashioned, and, frankly, having no idea what he’s doing. You link arms, and decide to go for a stroll around the city, stopping at a street vendor for pork buns, which Toshi can eat one at a time at his own pace.

However, out in the city, All Might’s unsettling grin was inescapable, watching from every billboard and gift shop. It’s not long before Toshi starts on his favorite subject: prying into why you are the one person on earth who doesn’t adore him. You would be just as happy to let it go, but since he insists, you wind up in a heated back-and-forth.

“…and he’s always like ‘Detroit smash!’ ‘Texas smash!’ but it’s just a bunch of punches.”

“Th-that’s not true at all! Detroit Smash is when he punches downward to create a shockwave, and Texas Smash is when he punches so hard it blows villains away, and—”

“Yeah, that’s just a bunch of punches.”

Choking noises escape his throat. His entire world has been destroyed. Good job.

He hangs his head with a defeated sigh. “So, you really hate All Might.”

You squeeze his arm. It hurts to see him so down, even though it’s silly that he cares so much. “It’s not that I hate him. At the end of the day, I’m glad he’s running around saving lives. The problem is hero culture in general. There’s so much focus on their ‘brand,’ on their market value. I guess I can’t even blame individual heroes for grandstanding, considering their income depends on their popularity, but honestly—they’re public servants, the same as the police. Did you know the police are still responsible for stopping more crimes than heroes, when you take into account all the non-quirk-related crimes they handle, and the detective work used to locate villains in the first place? But you don’t see their faces all over posters, and commercials, and t-shirts!” You point your finger in a random direction, and it lands on a perfume ad in a store window with Uwabami’s face. Amazing, not All Might this time.

“And your hero All Might is the worst one, with that dumb flashy smile, and big inspiring speeches, like he’s gotta make sure everyone knows he’s the greatest.”

Toshinori has been listening silently this whole time, deep in thought. From the solemn frown he was wearing, it seemed some of what you said hit home. But at that last part, he raises his piercing blue eyes to yours.

“You’re wrong… All Might’s smile isn’t about his own ego. He smiles so that people in trouble know everything will be OK. So they don’t feel scared. As long as the hero is still smiling, you know he’s going to win in the end. Being the symbol of peace isn’t about him, it’s about giving the world hope!”

Your heart flutters. It’s not so much the words he said—you’d heard the same line a million times—but the fire in his voice as he said it. Naive as they may be, you can’t help but admire his convictions.

He catches the smile in your eyes, and gives you the biggest, doofiest, triumphant grin. You try to think of something cynical to say to burst that bubble of optimism. You can think of a few: People shouldn’t be symbols, they should be people. That smile is so forced; it’s obvious he’s hiding pain, and you’d rather face the honest truth, no matter how hard, than have hope that’s a lie.

Eh. Maybe you’d tell him later. Right now, you just want him to keep smiling.

“I know!” He rubs his hands together. “Come on, I’ve got something to show you—this way.”

“You cannot take me to a hero museum for a date!” you grimace.

He laughs, grabbing your hand and leading you, “Don’t worry, it’ll be good!”

 ****

The sun is orange in the sky over the ocean, painting the clouds with striking purple and yellow streaks reflected in the waves below. A warm breeze blows your hair back, ruffling Toshinori’s long bangs, and swaying the spiky parts like a field of barley.

“Wow,” you breathe, leaning over the railing of the boardwalk. He leans next to you.

“Better than the restaurant, huh?” he nudges you with his elbow.

“You could’ve at least chosen one of those fancy restaurants where the dishes are tiny, instead of a place you couldn’t eat!”

“Yeah, I really bungled this date thing,” he laughs, hand on his forehead.

How soft would his hair would feel if you twined your fingers through it right now, you wonder? The urge to grab him, and smash your lips against his coils inside you like a spring. But… you’re not sure if he would want that. He’s just so cute!

He offers his arm in a gentlemanly fashion, tipping his head at you. You take it, and stroll together down the steps into the sand and along the beach, the sounds of crashing waves and sea birds like music around you.

“You know, this whole beach used to be covered with trash until about three months ago.

“You know, this whole beach used to be covered with trash until about three months ago. This was never publicized, but it was cleaned up by an aspiring hero who was inspired by All Might. Not everything heroes do is for fame and glory. Sometimes it’s just about helping the community.”

“Then how did you find out about it?”

He blanches. “Huh?”

“If it was never publicized, then how do you know who did it?”

A bright red river ejects from his lips, and he doubles over, hacking. That’s one way to change the subject. You rub his back as he recovers, but instead of helping him relax, he grows rigid and more on-edge.

“What’s wrong?”

“Don’t do it, if that’s what you’re thinking. You have no idea how much it hurts to see you in pain because of me. Promise me you won’t do it again.”

“I…” You almost swear you weren’t going to. That you won’t, ever again. But… “No. I wish I could tell you that, so you can relax around me and not worry, but I’m not going to make a promise I can’t keep. If you passed out again, or if you were suffering in unbearable agony, if… if you were dying… I would use my power, with or without your permission. There’s no way I could let you die, not if I can do something about it.”

“Young lady…” he purrs, stepping in closer, “I like your spirit, but… I don’t want you sacrificing yourself for me. I don’t want anybody else putting themselves through hell trying to be a hero for me.”

There’s a tug on your heart, and before you can stop yourself, you’re up on your toes, hands around his neck, your lips on his. He breathes in, frozen for an agonizing moment. You pull away, bright red, stammering apologies. Then his palm is cupping your jawline, thumb tracing tender circles over your hot cheek. He lowers his forehead, knocking it gently against yours, the side of your nose rubbing against his. His breath, so close, catching. Your eyes close. He angles his head, and kisses you back.

Eventually, you pull away, breathless. Your hands grip his narrow shoulders. “Listen. I appreciate you not wanting me to hurt myself for you. But you can trust me. If I decide to take some of your pain away, it’s because I decided to—get it?”

His face says he doesn’t. You pick up a seashell and toss it into the waves.

“Let me explain. The person this quirk is most dangerous to is its user. The hardest lesson to learn about it is how to say no.

“I was young when All Might debuted, and I loved him back then. His whole noble hero thing—always putting others first, always answering a cry for help, no matter how much danger he was in—I admired it. I wanted to be like that. And when other kids learned that my quirk could take away their scraped knees and bruised elbows, I was in high demand. I don’t think they meant to be selfish—they probably thought I was more resilient to pain as part of my quirk, but I just wanted to smile through it like that dumb bastard on TV. So I just kept taking, and smiling, until I was hooked up to machinery in a hospital bed for two weeks, barely hanging on.”

He grabs onto your hand and squeezes, almost so hard that it hurts. A pained look etches his face. “I’m sorry, I never meant for…”

“Calm down, it’s not like it’s your fault,” you laugh.

He flinches.

“I don’t blame All Might, either. It was my own stupid mistake. That’s how I learned you don’t emulate heroes! Noble sacrifice isn’t. That. Noble.” You poke his chest with your index finger to punctuate each word. “When you have something to offer the world, it’s important to know your limits, and to set boundaries. Because once people learn you’re willing to sacrifice yourself, they’ll take, and take until there’s nothing left.”

Toshinori touches his scar reflexively, fingers spreading protectively, pensively over the destroyed flesh. Then his hand clenches into a fist. “I understand… but still… if someone’s life is at risk, I can’t sit around and do nothing. Someone has to stand up and help, even if it’s dangerous. Someone has to be a hero, so everyone else can live happy lives!”

A smile spreads slowly across your lips. Partly a smile of admiration, from the vestiges of your youthful heart that still loves heroes… and partly the sly smile of a villain just before they dive into a victorious monologue.

“You’re right. That’s why I can’t do nothing if I see you in real trouble. If I decide to use my quirk to ease your pain, it’s not because you asked me to, or because I feel obligated. It’s because I want to. It’s because I weighed the risks, and decided. It hurts me to see you in pain, too, you know.”

His lower lip trembles. Before you know what’s happening, his hand is circling your waist, pulling your hips against his narrow ones, his mouth on yours. His lips are thin and chapped, but warm, making up for their lack of substance by softly giving way as you press against them, parting against yours. You let out a muffled moan. Your hands run over his back, exploring every jagged vertebrae and defined shoulder muscle hidden under his baggy dress shirt, finally coming to rest at the base of his neck, stroking the edge of that soft yellow hair you had longed to feel.

“Are you… using your quirk?” he pants.

“No.”

“Ah. Then this just feels really good.” He holds you tighter.

#Toshinori Yagi #toshinori x reader #all might x reader #bnha #all might #angst and fluff #toshi and reader are both huge dorks #my writing

[moodybluebabe]

Thank you Evan Rachel Wood et. al for empowering me to speak on my experience with narcissistic abuse.

The name of the worst abuser I have had the displeasure of being involved with is my ex fiancé, Taylor Lartigue.

At the age of 15, I was introduced to him. He was 19. After one meeting he expressed interest in me and had asked me to hang out more often. During this time he took advantage of my inexperience and limited knowledge on sexual encounters. After he convinced me to perform a sexual act on him, he told me he wanted to “stay friends.” The next day he proceeded to get into a relationship with another girl.

I cut contact after that for 3 years. One of my biggest regrets is not having the emotional maturity at 19 to understand that if you forgive someone for things they’ve done to you, it’s ok to not speak with them/confront them about it. You can forgive someone for yourself.

After we spoke to one another about the events that transpired in 2014, he weaseled his way back into my good graces. He told me he made a huge mistake back then and that he had changed and grown so much over the course of 3 years. At 19, I didn’t understand that narcissists do not change. They’re actors - they will say and do anything to get ahold of a supply.

Cue 2 1/2 years of pure hell. From January 2018 up until June of 2020 I was gaslit, belittled, love bombed, and tricked into believing I had found my soulmate. I was exposed to his violent outbursts where he would throw things, punch walls, and even began beating his family’s elderly dog with a closed fist to the point where she was yelping hysterically. He would tell me he couldn’t hang out with me because he needed, “sleep for work,” but left early for work so he could take a female coworker out to sushi and get tattoos with her. You guessed it, I was told I was acting, “crazy” and “insecure.” Every 4-6 months like clockwork he would break up with me, most often citing that he did not love me anymore and had no interest in being with me. 2 weeks-1 month later he would come back bawling his eyes out telling me he made a mistake - it was, “meant to be,” and he had, “lapses in judgment.” This was one of the many forms of manipulation and control that I was subjected to while being with him.

Taylor also manipulated me by purposely pushing me to my breaking point - this was done through yelling at me or purposely confusing/gaslighting me. It was only after I called him out on his behavior or snapped that he would act like the victim. He ghosted me in November of 2019 and told everyone close to him that I was abusive, among multiple other lies. The term for this is called a, “smear campaign.” When you do something a narcissist does not like or agree with, they proceed to tell everyone lies about how awful you are as a person. My friends and family were smart enough to see what was really happening, but at the time I was not. I took him back without hesitation after he told me he took back everything he said and that he loved me.

After I took him back, he proceeded to once again convince me that I was horribly mentally ill and that I abused him, despite saying he took everything back. This was to draw me back into his clutches and a classic example of gaslighting. I was attending therapy and my therapist could see the holes in his stories when he attended sessions. She began questioning me about the said incidents he brought up and asked if I remembered them. My response was always, “No, but if he’s saying it I must have done it at some point.” I was so unbelievably brainwashed it makes me sick to look back on it.

After therapy things seemingly got better, and he proposed to me. His family/flying monkeys (friends/family who are convinced that you’re the bad person) proceeded to smear me on social media, making comments that I was, “psychotic” and claiming that I, “pressured him” into proposing to me. It hit me at this point that he was saying these things about me behind my back - STILL. This was done while he was acting to my face that everything in our relationship was, “great.” For the next 2 weeks he was distant except to snap at/yell at me - and for the last time, told me that he did not love me anymore and broke off our engagement.

When him and his mother (a flying monkey of his) moved his things out of the apartment we shared together, he threatened to have me arrested because I “stole” a gun that belonged to him. In reality it was a last minute Christmas gift because he, “didn’t think to get me anything.” Some fiancé, huh? He came back without his mother to return my credit card to me (he was formerly an authorized user on my account) and tried bawling his eyes out in front of me about how sorry he was and how he would always, “treasure our memories together.” A police report was filed over him threatening me promptly after he returned my card to me.

This isn’t all of what I was subjected to, but the main points are all here. I am tired of staying silent and passive. Most people think if your partner doesn’t hit you, how else can they abuse you? This is how. It is terrifying and confusing. If anyone of my friends are going through this, please reach out to me. I am more than happy to assist you with ways to leave/whatever you may need. I never want anyone to go through this type of abuse.

#narcissisticabuse #covert narcissism #gaslighting #hovering #love bombing #projection

[its-captain-hitsugaya]

Secret Santa!

This is for you dear! @toshiro-hitsugaya ! It is overdue and I apologise for that but I hope you like it nonetheless! :D Have some cute IchiHitsu! 

❄❅❄

Overworked. 

A simple word to his ears, with a familiar swirl of lethargic waves sweeping through his bones at just the thought. For the hard-working tenth division captain, Toshiro Hitsugaya, it was a recurring trend in his busy lifestyle; he’d fallen into that category so often with his workload. To him it was merely a monthly irritant that plagues him, or a momentary downfall every other week, he couldn’t quite tell. He’d even began to believe it was his persistent state of being, made normal just for him.

Headaches, dizziness, nausea and tumbling over with each fainting spell. With the loss of vision as words swam and disappear off his pages. Yes. It was so normal for him to reach his limits and nosedive off the cliff of self-care to the bottomless pit of no return. Yet each time he learnt to climb out halfway, making an effort only for his work to continue before inevitably falling back down again. 

What a joke.  

Which only made his current endeavour all the more hypocritical.

“Shit sake, Kurosaki,” a grumble comes from the Captain as he ambles down the hallway, plastic bag shuffling noisily by his side. As the number 15 comes into view he sighs, already worn out by Ichigo’s usual rebellious attitude towards help before even seeing him. 

“Crap!” A voice almost howls from behind the door, but Toshiro only rolls his eyes at the assumed idiocy of his orange moron. He knocks lazily on the door and an array of banging follows before someone speaks hesitantly, “Who is it?”

“Open the door Kurosaki, I won’t ask again.” He receives silence, which only causes his eye to twitch. Of course, this idiot would hide away in his bedroom, embarrassed and unwilling to face the Captain in his current state. It had previously taken him a solid twenty minutes of arguing the first time he’d arrived, and of course, he was to face those same struggles yet again with his sickly boyfriend.

Overworked is Hitsugaya’s speciality, yes, but it is just so ironic that he had fallen for the one person who mirrored him perfectly. Why did the only person he like have to be as useless as him with self-care? How brilliant. Hitsugaya often wondered if this was payback for his horrible inability to care for himself, a battle of hypocrisy he had to butt heads with. 

Toshiro groans loudly, and without even giving Ichigo a second chance the Captain barges into the room without a second thought. With the bag of goods in hand, the Captain is ready to scold the other for his childish ways. Lecturing him to death would be a fun option, perhaps.

“I told you I wouldn’t ask-“ Hitsugaya stops dead in his tracks, frozen halfway over the threshold, his angry gaze morphed into utter embarrassment. His pale cheeks burn and eyes gape. The bare form of his boyfriend stands before him, cowering over as hands cover his—oh god. 

“Toshiro! I didn’t say to come in!” The teen's voice squeaks as he stumbles to his bed, though the captain couldn’t tell why as he instantly averted his gaze moments earlier. Nothing was seen, thank Christ, yet Toshiro can’t settle the fire in his cheeks. Rosy blush makes his teal irises pop, the innocence in his face becoming apparent. He is a bit of a prude in all honesty, and he didn’t even try to fight that fact, well, unless it was one of those idiot subordinates Ikkaku or Renji or whatnot. 

“I-“ He starts, clearing his throat as he tries to compose himself once more. “Shut up, dressed or not you would have ignored me.” Toshiro justifies pathetically, hands bawling up with unease. He holds out the bag of medication and huffs. “For your head.” The bag gets thrown at his boyfriend, not caring as it hits him. 

Even Toshiro has to admit his way of showing he cares is rather, ah, difficult to handle. Whether it’s inexperience or general denial, Hitsugaya is one to resort to grumpy growling and profusely using the word ‘idiot’ in the most endearing way he can—kind of.  

“Ah! Hey! Why so-“ Ichigo barely finishes his sentence before he groans in pain. Toshiro peaks over cautiously, thankful that Ichigo is now at least clad in his pants. Ichigo holds a hand to his head as he doubles over in pain, sitting heavily on his bed, skin melting of the colour he usually glowed with. He looked thin and frail, weak and rather sick. 

“Are you alright?” With true sincerity Hitsugaya reaches out in worry, stepping forward to try to place a hand on Ichigo’s shoulder as his attitude washes away for a moment, but the teen simply chuckles weakly as he straightens. It makes Toshiro wince when Ichigo lifts his head to reassure him of his well being, the dark circles hung heavy below his eyes: a horrible sight. 

“See, fine!” He says with a lopsided smile, swaying dangerously as he tries to stand straight. Scratching his neck sheepishly, Ichigo tries to play down his weakness, much to Toshiro’s irritation. 

“Oh? Really?” Comes the Captain’s deadpanned response. A dull look takes over the once worried expression, without hesitation, he reaches out and pushes on Kurosaki’s chest with little effort. He rolls his eyes comically as the lanky teen falls backwards onto the bed like a stiff board. 

“Moron.” 

“Ouch, that wasn’t nice.”

“Oh, bite me.”

“Kink- ah!” 

The elbow to the gut Toshiro gives Ichigo as he sits beside him was a low blow but Hitsugaya doesn’t care. He can’t quite tell how the substitute could manage such stupid comments even when burnt out; did he have an extra energy source just to be annoying? More so to the point, Toshiro often wonders why he did actually find those god awful comments amusing.

“Look, take these for your headache and rest. You can’t get better by messing around, now sleep.” He picks up the bag and proceeds to pop the pills into his hand, shoving it in Ichigo’s face. The ginger screws his face up at the sight of the small white tablets, turning away and sighing. 

“Ugh, but I need water though.” Ichigo surrenders—after the icy glare that pierces through him. Hitsugaya gives a smug look as he pulls out a water bottle, much to Ichigo’s dismay. 

Finally, he gives in, sitting up as he takes the pills and unscrews the bottle, slipping them down his throat with a foul look on his face. 

“Your bedside manner is disgraceful,” Ichigo mutters, earning an eye roll, before chuckling lightly. 

“Now rest. That’s an order.” The captain states firmly. He can’t stand to see Ichigo any longer, not in the state he is in. It makes his stomach spin, and not in a good way. The sight of the one he loves like this makes his chest hurt and teeth grind in frustration. He feels useless and hypocritical to all hell, and that’s what drove him to do his best to help. 

With headache sorted there is nothing more he can do but convince Ichigo to sleep. Rest is the one thing Toshiro swears by, even if it is something he struggles with at night—hard. But naps are a godsend and his favoured afternoon activity, maybe that is why his boyfriend’s sister and also Ichigo often call him an old man at heart. 

He stands to leave when suddenly a hand graced his, hot, sticky, and rather boney. 

“Wait,” Ichigo starts, a yawn tearing through his sentence. Toshiro looks back at the gloomy teen, worn out and pale, a sight he doesn’t want to focus on too much. “Stay with me?”

“What for? You need to rest, Kurosaki.” The hold on Toshiro’s wrist tightens, Ichigo’s face softening as he averts his gaze. He seems almost uneasy whilst his fingers mess with the sheets. Toshiro frowns, growing somewhat impatient and confused with his boyfriend's actions. 

“I have to go, Rangiku is hiding out downtown probably spending our budget on useless crap,”

“Stay with me, please,” Ichigo repeats his words with a hint of hesitation. He almost seems scared and cautious of his question, which only serves to make Hitsugaya’s frown deepen with confusion. “I can’t sleep alone lately. Or maybe I don’t want to.” 

“I-“ his words take Toshiro by surprise, eyes widening as he stutters slightly with shock. He isn’t sure how to respond, nor did he know whether to stay or not. Toshiro didn't need to do any work right now, his subordinates are manning the patrols, and Rangiku, well, she is a matter of her own.

“I’m sorry,” The Captain jolts from his train of thought, blinking pathetically at Kurosaki. He can’t understand what Ichigo is asking for and neither did he know what garnered the apology. For a moment the genius feels utterly stupid. 

“I didn’t mean to push boundaries I just wanted to have you by my side. Not just a visit but more...well, close.” The crimson glow of Ichigo’s face is mirrored on Toshiro’s puzzled features as Hitsugaya’s cheeks are once again set alight. 

He swallows thickly as he stares at Kurosaki for a few moments more, weighing his options. 

Was it so bad? To stay and rest with his boyfriend? It should be a simple decision, they are dating after all. Yet the thought of being so close almost made him feel uneasy, body fidgeting at the thought of even a hug. Hugging isn’t his favoured thing, not by a mile. And yet…

Ichigo’s hand releases Toshiro, falling lazily as he turns away and flops down onto the mattress, muttering another apology and somewhat dismissing the question. An arm sling over his eyes and a sigh huffs past his lips, and Toshiro watches with a soft look. Ichigo looks like a sad lost puppy, and that should make the captain roll his eyes — well it does — yet he mostly feels an amusing bubble rise in his chest at the sight. The big, strong saviour of soul society wants the icy genius of all people to cuddle with him. Who would have ever thought?

“You’re such a baby when worn down.” The grumble stirs Ichigo out of his sulking attitude for a moment, but Toshiro has already moved closer, flicking his shoes off before laying down next to him. 

Honey orbs widen at Hitsugaya, shock written all over blanched features.

A brow raises at him, and he tries hard to hide his blush as he rolls his eyes. “What? You wanted me to stay?” He mutters, not letting his eyes meet Ichigo’s. 

“I…I am just surprised,” Ichigo mumbled into his pillow, half hiding the smile and faint blush also dusting upon his features. 

“Shut up and rest now.” The captain orders, though tone soft and void of the usual demanding ring. He rolls over to escape Ichigo’s adorable face, the regrettable denial of his feelings for the idiot still strong in his stubborn attitude. A glare fixes on the wood nightstand, fussing to himself about his situation when a strong arm snakes over his waist, hugging him close to warmth and sturdy chest. 

“I appreciate you, Toshiro.” The sleepy whisper aids in heating up the captains blush by tenfold, hesitant hands clasping over the arm around him. He sighs, oddly comfortable in the hold. 

“So do I, Ichigo,” Hitsugaya’s words were barely audible to even himself, let alone the now snoozing ginger behind him. Yet he smiled at the nuzzle he received into his hair, eyes fluttering shut soon after. 

‘I appreciate you more than anything.’

-❄❅❄

#toshiro-hitsugaya #secret santa bean! #ichihitsu #fluffy dorks #snow and the sun #Toshiro Hitsugaya #ichigo kurosaki

[tacitusauxilium]

Angst/Comfort/Fluff Marie/Fuuka drabble for mun

Marie rolled her eyes, as she watched Shinjiro and Fuuka argue again, finish with nothing resolved (as usual), and Shinjiro leaving their apartment, with Fuuka moping. Every week they argue about the same thing. Shinjiro’s kidneys and liver are failing, thanks to the pills from Takaya, and he’s insistent on not doing anything about it. Meaning he’d die. And he’s oddly content with that. Fuuka well, isn’t.

She honestly wondered for a while what did Fuuka see in him? Cause all he brings is headaches. Fuuka and her are rooming, and Shinjiro, while being Fuuka’s boyfriend, didn’t tend to stay; mostly because Marie managed to make him leave.

Marie doesn’t hate Shinjiro. When he’s not in his brooding moods, he can be someone worthwhile to talk to. But whenever he’s brooding (which is…a lot, unfortunately), he’s just intolerable, and she’s talked about it with Fuuka before. To no surprise, Fuuka insists on ‘changing him’.

Marie blatantly told her “Teal, you don’t change people like him. They’re damaged goods.”

Just hearing those words almost made Fuuka slap Marie. She held back…on principle. “You don’t know him Marie-chan.”

Marie rolled her eyes, almost tempted to scoff. “Yeah Teal. I do. We both know it’s an excuse, because you don’t want to admit that-“

“-It’s late, and I don’t want to discuss this.” Fuuka was quick to interrupt, though Marie could see Fuuka vividly shaking, and nearly holding back from tearing up. “So, if you EXCUSE ME Marie-chan.” Fuuka stormed off and slammed the door to her room shut and locked it.

Marie sighed. She rubbed her temples, annoyed. ‘For all your genius Teal, you can be incredibly naïve…you don’t ‘fix’ people. End of story.’

Fuuka didn’t talk to her for a week, and even then, conversations weren’t long. Marie was honestly getting sick of the cold shoulder treatment. She wasn’t the villain in this, and she didn’t have to take this treatment from Fuuka. She can love Shinjiro all she wants, but ‘fixing’ him is not something she’s obligated to do in the first place. If he wants to die, that’s on him, not her.

“Teal, I want to talk.”

“Not now Marie-chan.”

Oh, she knows that tone. The ‘I know where this is going, and I don’t want it’ tone. Too bad Marie is having none of that today.

Before Fuuka could enter her room, Marie flicked her fingers. A strong gust of wind shut the door. “I’m not giving you an option.” Marie spoke colder this time. She motions to the sofa.

Fuuka was tempted to tell her no. Out of daring, she tried to open the door to her room. Locked. …Must have locked it with the wind.

Defeated, and slightly angered, Fuuka storms to the sofa and sits, glaring at Marie. “What is it Marie-chan?” the irritation in her voice practically screams ‘get over with it already.’

Marie decided to just get to the point. “We didn’t finish the discussion last week. You know, the one you cut me off cause ‘you didn’t want to discuss it’.”

Fuuka nods “Well there you go; I don’t want to discuss.” Of course, Marie would bring that up. Fuuka didn’t want to hear whatever Marie has to say. Its not her problem to begin with.

“Well I do.” Marie deadpanned, tempted to do a mocking tone. She held back. “Because I’m worried-“

“Oh, NOW you’re concerned?” Fuuka retorts before Marie can even finish; and rather angrily at that. “Because last I checked, Shinjiro-kun is not YOUR boyfriend.”

Marie didn’t care for the glare, and only crosses her arms in return. “Worried about YOU, Teal. Not him. YOU.”

Fuuka grimaced, partially guilty for snapping like that…but still on-edge. “I’m doing fine Marie-chan.”

“Except that you’re not.” Marie rebuts. “You’re more exhausted than you’ve ever been, and I know its not because of Crimson. She works you hard, but not hard enough to literally zap away the enthusiasm out of you. You force yourself to eat, and sometimes you even forget to bathe. I have to freaking remind you. You’re not adulting very well Teal.”

Fuuka bit her lip, knowing where this was going. “And I thank you for that Marie-chan, but I’m doing-“

“You need to drop the ‘fix’ act on Hobo, or just dump him.”

And there it is. The smoking gun that Fuuka didn’t want to hear. Fuuka trembled, the anger inside her, the stress and anxiety from the last few weeks of arguing with Shinjiro, Mitsuru’s constant work stress, Marie’s nagging…its all started to boil inside her in an ugly way.

Between wanting to throw something at Marie (the jar right now looks tempting), and tackling her, Fuuka decided to not…do either of those. She just glared at Marie harder, practically fuming. “My relationship with Shinjiro is not your business Marie-chan. Stay out of it.” That last part came out more as a threat than anything else.”  

But Marie wasn’t going to have any of Fuuka’s excuses, or empty threats as is. The situation is at its breaking limit, and if Marie can’t make Fuuka understand now, then she never will. “Except that it is.” Marie deadpanned, not fazed by Fuuka’s mild attempt at a threat. “We’re roommates in case you forgot. We have each other’s backs, and if someone is falling, we help the other back up. And right now- “ Marie points at Fuuka “You Teal, are gonna hit the floor hard by taking on more than you can handle.”

Not that Fuuka wanted to be touched by Marie’s words, but right now her distress and anger are clouding that, sadly. “Well maybe if I could help Shinjiro with-“

“There’s no helping damaged goods Teal.”

SNAP

Those words again. Those damn words Fuuka has heard about Shinjiro from so many people. She didn’t want to believe Marie would say them too. She didn’t want to think that Marie would be on their side, and not hers.

She was wrong all along. Marie sees Shinjiro like everyone else does, not like she does; and she hates that so much.

“HE IS NOT DAMAGED GOODS!” Fuuka didn’t even realize how loud she yelled that. The tears that have been welling up inside her, escape like a dam leaking as she stood up to stand tall over Marie. “YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND HIM LIKE I DO MARIE-CHAN, NONE OF YOU FREAKING DO, OR EVEN TRY TO! YOU ALL JUST JUDGE HIM CAUSE NONE OF YOU HAVE TO DEAL WITH WHAT HE DOES! HE NEEDS HELP MY HELP!”

Marie certainly wasn’t expecting Fuuka to blow up. It was worse than she thought, but at the same time, it has to be done. “Cause there’s nothing to understand!”

“YES, THERE IS!” Fuuka’s practically bawling now. In sadness, in rage, in loss of being heard. Not that there was anything to be heard, but Fuuka didn’t want to admit that. “SHINJIRO-“

‘-Is a grown man.” Marie finished. “He’s 22 years old. He’s an adult.” Marie stands up, not intimidated by Fuuka of all people. “He can take care of himself and his own problems, and if he doesn’t want your help, the best you can do is respect his decision, instead of forcing yourself in. Because as you said Teal, he’s your boyfriend. You’re not his mother, you don’t have to dote his every decision or criticize his every action. You can talk to him about it, but he has to make the decision himself on what he wants to do.” Marie pauses for a moment, noticing that her words are having an effect on Fuuka. Her anger is leaving her; and reasoning is hitting hard. “…If he doesn’t want to do the organ transplant to save his liver and kidney’s Teal, then that’s…his decision, even if it means him dying.” She slowly, carefully walks over to Fuuka. She stopped crying, but the dam is certainly not done leaking.

“It doesn’t mean you failed as his girlfriend.”

Fuuka knew, deep down that every word Marie said was the truth. The cold, hard, harsh truth that she wanted to deny for so long. When she learned of Shinjiro’s condition, she just told him to get the organ transplant, problem solved. But he refused. Fuuka honestly believed that he was simply scared; and with some light pushing and motivations. But that only made Shinjiro more aggressive, and Fuuka couldn’t comprehend why. Why wouldn’t he want to live? Sure, he’d be bedridden for a few weeks, but it wouldn’t be anything serious.

Then in one of their arguments, he dropped it. Miki Sanada.

15 years. 15 years, and despite everything, every effort to move forward…Shinjiro fell back to step 1. He can’t let go, he REFUSES to let go, and their arguments the last few weeks have been about that. But every, one of them ended in failure for Fuuka.

Shinjiro can’t let go. End of story. Fuuka adamantly refused to accept that, with every fiber of her being and hoped to smash common freaking sense into Shinjiro. She tried, tried, and tried again. Against Mitsuru’s complacency, against Akihiko’s acceptance, against Yukari’s pity…

Against Marie’s truth.

That wasn’t the case. She couldn’t…because Shinjiro wouldn’t accept that. Not then, not now…possibly not ever.

Shinjiro would have a year to live, and that was it. Nothing else to discuss except his funeral arrangements.

Fuuka could see it now, see it happen, see it go, and see it fade. Her dreams, her future, her wishes.

Marie held onto Fuuka as she finally let go, and sobbed loudly onto her arms, hugging her roommate and dear friend for dear life. Marie sighed, wishing it hadn’t come to this…but it did. For all odds, for all the bridges built…all for nothing.

About 10 minutes later, Fuuka fell asleep on Marie’s arms. Marie carefully lifts her and carries her back to her room (after opening the door with the wind of course). She tucked Fuuka in, and let her sleep…

About 4 hours later in the evening, Marie heard the shower turn on…must be Fuuka. She had already bathed and is watching TV, clad in a simple long shirt that reaches her thighs and underwear.

Minutes later, Fuuka sits next to her, wearing a nightgown and underwear. Her hair is also loosened, not braided like usual. “…Hi…” Fuuka shyly spoke.

“Hey.” Marie greets her normally. “Sleep well?”

Fuuka nodded. “Uhu…thank you…Marie-chan. For earlier.”

Marie raised an eyebrow. “You’re thanking me? You were pretty angry.”

“…I kind of am…still.” Fuuka sighed, hands on her lap. “But not at you…rather at me. …You were right, about everything.” She sniffed. “I hate feeling this way…so helpless, worse…knowing you want to help but the help is not accepted.” She looks at Marie, a despondent gaze over her normally starry teal eyes. “…Ever since I can remember, I wanted someone, anyone to accept me. Not as a lover, but as a friend, a companion, to never leave me alone. Shinjiro…” she bit her lip “I-I thought…I felt…” she raised her hand and gripped her chest; heart still aching. “…I wanted a family…” she nearly broke again when she said that.

“…But now that’s impossible.” Marie finished for her. However, Fuuka shook her head.

“I didn’t mention it before, but in one of our arguments…Shinjiro plain told me, that he didn’t want to be a father.” A few tears left her. “I was so hurt…I slapped him.” She confessed. “It was the first time I did that. He didn’t even react. He just walked away…and I hated that. I wish he had said something, dome something, even slap me back, I didn’t care. I just…” Fuuka gritted her teeth. “I wanted him to acknowledge that there was something between us, and I wasn’t just his…fuck toy!” she yelled. “But nothing…! And I just…” she sniffed, wiping away her tears “I thought I emptied myself out…”

She’s surprised when Marie hands her a handkerchief. “You never truly do.” She smiles at her. “The pain doesn’t go away after a few hours Teal. You’ll heal…in due time. With words, with action, with acceptance. You kind of did the last one.”

“…kind of.” Fuuka smiles back, blushing slightly as she takes the handkerchief, and wipes away her tears…and blows her nose. “Better…” she sniffs. “Much better.” Awkwardly, she looks at the handkerchief, then at Marie.

“Hamper.” Marie deadpanned. Fuuka nodded, not arguing there that’s for sure. “So, what do you want to do?”

“…I…” Fuuka frowned. “…I want to talk to him one last time. If…if he really wants this…then that will be it. I’ll break up with him, and I’ll respect his decision. …But that doesn’t mean I will stand by him. This is his path to take, and I guess…I’ll walk my path; with or without him. I’ll…endure.” At least, Fuuka lied to herself, for now. She’s still in pain after all. “I…kinda wanna drink something, and just go back to bed.”

Marie nodded. “Sure. Go ahead Teal, I’ll go to sleep a little later.”

“…Mm…yeah.” Fuuka folded the handkerchief and stared at it. “…You know Marie-chan…you’ve been good to me.” She looks at her. “You listen to me rant, you let me scream at you, but you don’t disrespect me. You understand, you listen…” she blushed. “…I’m happy to have you as a roommate, and a friend.” She reached out to Marie and hugged her. “…It means a lot to me that you have stayed, more than words can possibly say.”

The hug surprised Marie, but she wasn’t in any position to argue. She returns the hug, sighing. “You’re welcome Teal, anytime.”

“Mmm…” Fuuka nuzzled onto Marie, adoring her warmth right now, and her faint scent of blueberry, her favorite fruit. “…Marie-chan…?”

“Yeah?”

“…Thank you.” Fuuka looked up to Marie, eyes shining with the moon. She did something she didn’t think she would do. She pressed her lips onto Marie’s softly. A kiss…warm, tender…it filled Fuuka with a desire she long missed, needed. She pulled back, blushing. “…I-I mean it…” she said shyly, not believing she even did that. What possessed her to do that?

Marie certainly didn’t know and didn’t want to ask…mostly because she gets the feeling that Fuuka is not in her right mind right now and is looking for warmth. Best she can do is give it…for now, at least until Fuuka can stand up again. Until she can heal. She can be that healing potion.

Not that Fuuka is her first kiss with a girl, but that’s a story for another time. Marie let Fuuka nuzzle her, cuddle her…until Marie heard Fuuka’s light snores.

Chuckling, Marie carefully lifted Fuuka, and brought her back to her room. This time however, she closed the door behind her (after turning all the lights off), and carefully drops Fuuka on the bed. She tucks herself in with Fuuka (Who hasn’t let go of Marie), and watches Fuuka sleep peacefully. If Marie was certain, this is the most peaceful sleep Fuuka has had in a while.

Marie pressed her lips on Fuuka’s forehead. “Sweet dreams Teal…” Marie whispered, and closed her eyes, embracing Fuuka in return. Its been a long day, and both girls need their rest, for what will come tomorrow.

…………………………..

Fuuka and Marie spent a long night together…

#for the mun #drabble #FUCKING HELL MAN #THIS IS PAINFUL. but amazing. like damn just cut me in half with those feels #fuuka is just slapping everyone in this XD #goddessofpathos #thats okay—i didnt need my heart today! #👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 #submission #>i'm erasing myself from the narrative<

[flying-elliska]

I know we’re all waiting for the sky to fall on our heads right now but I’m not ready for fluff week to be over yet so here’s a few glimpses of their post-paint honeymoon weekend. Enjoy <3

SAMEDI 19:12

God, how many time is it possible to fall in love with the same person ?

Lucas asks himself this repeatedly over the week end, as he learns to see a whole new side to his boyfriend.

His boyfriend !

His boyfriend, who is a disaster in the kitchen. His boyfriend, who curls into him as if Lucas was the one that was two heads taller than him. His boyfriend who's been making cute little drawings of all of their meetings.

The image that had been haunting him the past two weeks, that of Eliott the player with the piercing stare and pretty words, the Eliott that could floor Lucas with a glance and stomp on his heart in the next minute, the Eliott he cursed himself for falling in love with - melts away like it never existed in the first place.

In his place now there's Eliott the dork, who makes terrible jokes and then smiles at Lucas knowing full well he can get away with it anyway but still wants his approval regardless. Eliott who loves to call himself a wild forest creature but is way too affectionate for that to be even remotely credible. Eliott who doesn't spare any effort to make Lucas understand how much he cares. Restless, maddening Eliott, who seems to prioritize kissing Lucas first and breathing second, and can’t stop himself from following Lucas even to the kitchen when he goes for a snack. 

Lucas always thought it would feel weird, to have a boyfriend, but it really doesn't. It's the most natural thing in the world, maybe because him and Eliott ? They just fit.

...

Now they're entangled on the couch-bed again, watching tv. They never really bothered to fold it back into a couch again. The others are giving them a wide berth. He doesn’t want to throw Manon out of her room, really, and Eliott said he liked it here too much to go back to his appartment - and vaguely alluded to people who might drop by there unexpectedly. Here at least they know how to see the unexpected coming, and the unexpected said he was going to visit one of his old hook-ups anyway and that there was extra lube on the fridge and to call him if they ever needed advice with anything (hell no). Lise has been pointedly walking around with huge noise cancelling earphones while giving them dirty looks and pointedly saying that if she suspected anyone ever did anything in the kitchen again she would set the couch on fire and Lucas would have to go back to the basement. Eliott had the gall to ask if that also meant food and she answered, deadpan - “Oh for you, it certainly does.” 

Manon left for Emma’s in the afternoon after presenting them with a tray of muffins and a glowing smile, specifying that they were chocolate chip and vanilla, “the best way to make muffins”. Eliott said he considered that a challenge, and Manon told him to spare his energy for more important things before exiting the room. 

Lucas can’t help but feel for her - must be hard to see a couple getting together right in front of her as her own woes are still ongoing. He always thought being happy made people into morons but strangely it’s allowing him to see other people more, to care when he was mostly too exhausted to, before. 

“You should try to make her muffins, he tells Eliott. You know, if you can actually manage to make something not totally disgusting, I think she would love someone to engage in a culinary battle with. She’s way too smug about those muffins.” And she needs distraction from a broken heart, he doesn’t say, I just got over one of those and it’s the worst feeling in the world. 

“Oh but right now we -”

Lucas puts his hand over Eliott’s mouth. 

“But I require at least a week to recover before you try to poison me again.”

...

There’s people putting their hands in boxes full of tarantulas on TV and Lucas couldn’t care less. Eliott’s hands are busy on him, one playing with the little hairs at the nape of his neck, the other one tracing the outline of his ribs and slowly inching lower. He feels drunk, and wonders why they ever bothered to put their clothes back on again. 

One week ago he was bawling his heart out on this very couch, feeling like he was drowning and all his support systems were failing him. And now ? Well, he’s swimming in bliss. 

The pain was real. He can’t let go of the worry totally, it cut too deep. In time he wants to be able to educate people so they stop making gay jokes and he wants to know what exactly made Lucile such a powerful figure in Eliott’s life that he had such trouble letting go so they can exorcise her completely, and he wants to arm himself so that pain never comes back. But he can’t be like that right now. Right now he isn’t able to be anything but meltingly soft. They are going to coagulate into the couch and leave stains, and the petty part of him thinks that it will serve Mika right for being such a nuisance. 

Eliott laughs that high giddy laugh of his, and no parts of Lucas, petty or loving or otherwise, can think anymore. 

“Hmm”, Eliott says as he runs the tip of his fingers along Lucas’ arm, touch featherlight and sending shivers along his’ spine, “maybe I should have drawn you as a spider.” 

Lucas turns to him with the most disgusted look on his face he can muster. 

“What the fuck ?”

“Well, yes, look, you’re getting goosebumps, it looks exactly like the hair on those spiders” he says, leaning his head slightly in the direction of the TV. 

“So you think what, that I’m scary and it’s a challenge to touch me, is that it ?”

“No, spiders are misunderstood. They’re a vital part of our ecosystem. They eat the nasty bugs.” Eliott leans down to kiss his arm and looks up with playful puppy dog eyes. 

“You’re totally one of those guys who likes weird animals, don’t you ?”

“Well duh, I like you.” 

“Oh yeah, is that how it is now ? No more cute hedgehogs, I’m a spider ? Is that how you’re planning to keep my attention ?”

“You’d be cute in any animal form, even the weirdest.”

“F*ck okay, I understand why you won’t let us go to your appartment now. I bet you have a box full of roaches under your bed. Or like, a f*cking snake hanging out in your pipes.”

“Well, I brought my snake with me, baby.” Eliott wiggles his eyebrows at him, looking way too pleased with himself.  

“F*cking hell, how do I find you attractive ? You’re so lame ! ”

He starts to push himself up so he can leave, and what happens next is exactly what he knew was going to happen. Eliott rolls on top of him in one fluid move, flattening Lucas into the cushions, lining up their bodies and pressing down. Lucas's next breath comes out all shivery and high pitched. It's embarassing but not as much as what happens next.

As Eliott lowers down to kiss him he grinds his hips against Lucas's, and stars shoot up his spine.

And then he stops, and whispers in his ear "So I'm lame, huh ?"

Lucas lets out a noise he'd never thought himself capable of making, a needy moan that has Eliott in pieces against him, as if he wanted to tease but in the end, neither of them have any self-control left.

All melting,  no more walls, not even to be funny.

...

At some point afterwards when they finally fall apart to catch their breaths, a weird wizard on the TV with a raspy voice is scolding the players for having taken so long to solve the enigma and being so messy about it, asking them if they need help to put keys in keyholes, and then looks at the camera with a look so fierce Lucas almost jumps back, his fake eyebrows almost falling off. 

“Shit I think he’s seen us !”

Eliott laughs into Lucas’ neck, low and easy and delighted. F*ck, it’s so good to be weird together. 

next up DIMANCHE 15:36 and insta shenanigans 

#skam france #fic drabble #elu #lucas x eliott #my fic #fluff #thx max for the snake joke lmao

[lovemooreandco]

World Breastfeeding Week

For world breastfeeding week we wanted to ask a few moms a handful of questions to share with you, a spectrum of experiences with breast-feeding. Every experience can be unique, but we can all find some common ground and learn from one another. It really can vary not only from mother to mother, but also from baby to baby. I hope our responses can help someone feel confident in whatever choice they make, that best works for their family, when it comes to breastfeeding.

Are you currently nursing/pumping? (If yes, explain how long. If no, how long did you and share your story on stopping if you’d like to)

Michelle “I am currently both nursing and pumping. She only eats from a bottle when she is with her grandma a few days a week while I’m at work. Otherwise it’s straight from the booby :) I plan to breastfeed Hazel until Phil and I start trying for our second kid, that’s when I’ll start to wean her off of it (so in about 2 years)”

Anna “I am currently still nursing 6-month-old Copeland. It has been one of the hardest and most rewarding experiences of my life. I have definitely wanted to give up several times and haven’t, but I completely understand why women get to a point where keeping their sanity takes precedence over breastfeeding. I wish moms had more grace for themselves when it comes to feeding their babies.”

Cortney “I am not currently breastfeeding or pumping. I pumped for six months, but with three kiddos, it became exhausting. I loved producing milk for my youngest, but it took so much time away from the other two. It was an endless cycle of pump, feed, change, wash the pumping supplies & bottle, then repeat.”

Taylor “I am currently nursing, and I pump when I need to be away from the baby. I’m a SAHM, so I just nurse on demand. I have been nursing since May 2017 when I had my first son, and have nursed through having my now 8 month old.”

Katie “I am Breastfeeding my baby. In the beginning, I was pumping a lot to try to up my supply but, it really is true that the more you latch the baby the more you will produce because the baby nursing regulates milk than a pump ever will”

Jourdan “I am currently nursing my 6 month old Daughter. I pumped for 2-3 months with my Son, and then switched to formula.”

Did your baby latch right away?

Michelle “My entire pregnancy I had heard a lot of stories about how challenging breastfeeding can be so this was always my biggest fear. But about 10-15 minutes after Hazel was born my midwife asked me if I was ready to try to nurse her. I can’t tell you how ecstatic I was when she latched right away!”

Anna “Oh yeah. But he was tongue tied and had a shallow latch for the first 4 months, so it hurt like hell for the first 30 seconds of each feeding.”

Cortney “He latched right away, but he had a hard time staying latched, which led me to pumping.”

Taylor “I wouldn’t say they latched immediately like ‘people’ say they will. They both did, however, nurse within a few hours of birth.”

Katie “My baby did, thank god!”

Jourdan “My daughter latched pretty well from the get go. My son had more trouble from the start, which made me give up quickly. They both have significant lip ties.”

If you saw a lactation consultant, did you find them helpful?

Michelle “I’ve only visited a lactation consultant once and it was just to get a few questions answered about pumping. I personally didn’t find her that helpful, but I think it was my own fault. I knew absolutely nothing about pumping so going in I didn’t even know what questions I should have been asking. I felt very much in the dark about all of this so my advice to anyone who might find themselves in a similar situation is to do a quick google search on the topic to at least learn the basics, and then from there you can develop your own questions to ask the professional.”

Anna “Absolutely. When you’re a first time mom, learning to breastfeed forces you to be physically and emotionally vulnerable. I never imagined I’d have another woman literally holding my breast and feeding my baby with it. Good consultants understand that breastfeeding doesn’t “come naturally” like everyone says it does, and they can give you practical ways to be successful. I have called my consultant bawling, and she doesn’t bat an eye.”

Cortney “I tried & tried with a lactation consultant, but I never could get him to latch properly.”

Taylor “I did, and I did find it helpful. I had questions they were able to answer.”

Katie “Although it did come into my head a lot to hire a lactation consultant, in the beginning, since my supply was low and not enough to fill my babies appetite, which is why I had to supplement with formula, I did not hire a lactation consultant”

Jourdan “I did not see a lactation consultant outside of the hospital, but took advantage of the ones provided during my stay. I was really frustrated with the consultants during my first postpartum experience. They rubbed me the wrong way, and I think that may have contributed some to my decision to pump vs. continuing to try and get him to latch. The consultants in my second experience were very lovely and I felt more comfortable asking questions and being vulnerable in front of them.”

One struggle with breastfeeding would be:

Michelle “My biggest struggle with breastfeeding so far would be when Hazel is going through a leap. During her leaps she has a hard time focusing on just one thing which then frustrates her. So she will nurse for a few seconds and then she comes off and screams for a few seconds, then latches again... the. entire. time 😭”

Anna “It can be mentally exhausting. You want to be capable of nourishing your baby with your body, like it was designed to do. If you fail, it’s easy to jump to dramatic conclusions and feel like a failure. Not to mention keeping it together when a hungry baby is screaming in your face.”

Cortney “Getting a strong latch. I have larger nipples, which made it very difficult. Once he was big enough to actually latch, he was used to the bottle nipples & preferred them.”

Taylor “I think the first two weeks are the biggest struggle. You’re both learning something new, it’s unbelievable painful, and it’s just A LOT. Also, having so many questions you may not know the answer to. We all know google can only go so far. (And probably in the wrong direction)”

Katie “One struggle with breast-feeding is definitely always having to be there for your baby. Obviously I definitely enjoy every moment with him but sometimes I feel like I do need a break. Fortunately, I always have in the back of my head that if I’m not there with him and he gets hungry (since my supply is “just enough “ now) he could get formula if I am not with him but since, I would prefer him to get breastmilk, so me and him are always together 🤷🏽‍♀️”

Jourdan “Freedom! Nursing babies are glued to you unless they can also take a bottle. We are working on getting my daughter to take breastmilk from a bottle or a sippy cup, so I can have more of a life outside being a stay at home mom.”

Two positives about breastfeeding would be:

Michelle “Two positives about breastfeeding... I think the biggest one for me would be not having to wake up in the middle of the night to make bottles. We co sleep with her in the bed, so when she’s hungry in the middle of the night we do the side-laying position and both of us usually just fall back asleep like this. I’ve never lost sleep because of it, it’s a total game changer!! Also, of course, there’s the bond you get with your baby when you breastfeed vs bottle feed. Nothing melts my heart more than when I look down at her while she nurses and she’s looking back up at me. It’s so special.”

Anna “It didn’t happen immediately for me, but I have found it to be true what they say about a beautiful bonding experience.I hate hate hate hate hate pumping. So avoiding that as much as possible is always preferable. “

Cortney “Since I didn't actually get to breast feed & pumped instead, I would have to say one, it saves A LOT of money. Formula is expensive. Two, it burns a lot of calories. Lol!”

Taylor “One positive is that it’s free. I’ve never purchased formula, and honestly can’t imagine. Props to all of those mamas, for real. Another positive is that baby relies on you. That can be a negative some days, but ultimately so nice knowing you are baby’s safe place.”

Katie “One positive thing about breast-feeding is of course the health benefits and the fact that my body can produce whatever my baby needs through the saliva Communication. It is insane I didn’t realize how smart and powerful a woman’s body really is. Another positive factor about breast-feeding is of course the bonding time and the fact that your baby enjoys you so much not only for your milk but for your company and for your comfort and for your touch and your smell. It truly is priceless.”

Jourdan “I would definitely have to say, the saving money aspect and easy travel aspect have been the biggest positives for us. We spent an insane amount of money on formula & when you travel with formula it’s like a whole other level of anxiety, of having to keep bottles clean, cold, etc. just a whole lot of extra work compared to just whipping out a boob!”

Any advice you’d like to offer?

Michelle “ I don’t know if I have any advice. I guess it would be to try not to be so concerned with what every other mom is doing, how they are doing it and when. Of course it helps to learn these things. You can try it out for yourself and maybe it will also work for you too. But, I found the most comfort when I finally realized that every momma is different and we all just kind of figure out on our own what works best for us and our little. Also, close your eyes and take a few deep breaths. Maybe walk away and cry for a few minutes so you can come back with a clear head. This 👏🏼 is 👏🏼 hard! But you’re doing great ❤️”

Anna “Find another mom to talk to. Preferably one who didn’t blissfully nurse all 6 of her babies with no issue. Seriously though, WE NEED EACH OTHER, and we need to end the comparison/competitive mom culture. Everyone’s doing their best with what they’ve got and there’s no one-size-fits-all approach to this thing.”

Cortney “If you want to breastfeed or pump, just don't give up. Even if you end up exclusively pumping, it feels so rewarding. Also, don't feel ashamed if you do do it then decide "this isn't for me" or, like me, you have other kiddos who need your attention.”

Taylor “My advice would be to find a support system. Moms that have nursed because they GET IT and just other moms because they will be there for you, it’s essential because you go through a lot with the entire journey, and I know I needed that in the beginning and during tough times.”

Katie “The advise that I would like to offer to moms is - do you the most you can do And know that that is your best and that is enough! And don’t be so hard on yourself -oh and never compare yourself to other moms and their production level - worst thing ever to do.”

Jourdan “ if you want to nurse, get through the first two weeks first and then decide if you want to continue or not. The first two weeks are the hardest like crying pain, cracked & bleeding nipples, baby screaming hard. But then after your breasts get adjusted, aren’t as engorged and your flow is more regulated it gets a lot easier. It’s still hard all around so my advice would be not to push yourself into a point of where you are not mentally in a good place. Breastmilk is amazing, but happy moms are more important than breastmilk. You will feed your baby regardless.”

Michelle

Anna

Taylor

Cortney

Katie

Jourdan

Share any similar experiences? We would love to hear! Leave a message here or head back to Instagram & leave an emoji!

#motherhood #babies #mommy blog #breastfeeding #worldbreastfeedingweek #pumping #mom life #lactation

[fluidityandgiggles]

Sleep Is For The Weak - Chapter 17

Previous Chapters: Prologue, Chapter 1, Chapter 5, Chapter 10, Chapter 15, Last Chapter

Writing Masterlist - for previous chapters not otherwise linked, Read on AO3

Notes (I guess): Happy school year in two weeks, folks.

Not gonna lie, I actually had a plan for this chapter, and then forgot it. So... yeah, not the most cohesive or best chapter, but I got it out, and it’s nice, and I like it this way because it’s a break from the wave of panic attacks and mild transphobia the last chapter or two.

Yes, I’m back home now, and I’m doing actually much better mentally and physically than I have since September till June. But the chapters are gonna take a while longer to write from now on, because I’m about to join the scary world of job searching for the unstable ADHD brain, not to mention being involved in three regular ttrpg campaigns (where I play a halfling sorcerer, and a half-elf bard, and also DM the third one), so... my brain is busy. But I promise this fic isn’t going on hiatus! I’m still extremely dedicated and excited to be writing this fic. I love it so much. Honest.

As per every chapter, thanks go to @whatwashernameagain for KHS and for generally being a wonderful human, to @broadwaytheanimatedseries for putting up with my fangirl-levels of excitement over everything (and coming up with the original idea), to @winglessnymph, @asleepybisexual and @anony-phangirl - who, while I know they’ve all fallen out of the loop, continue to have long-lasting effects on this fic as a whole - and new to this list, to @ilovemygaydad, who I’ve asked to beta this fic for me and I hope they’d have time for that starting with the next chapter.

Happy start of college and good luck, my darling dear child. I love you.

Tag list (sort of): @bunny222, @ab-artist, @sweet-and-sour-shadowling, @your-username-is-unavailable, @virgilcrofters, @violetblossem, @maybe-i-like-the-misery, @book-of-charlie, @thatsanswitch, @thatrandomautist, @thebiggestgaypirate, @marshmallow-the-panda

(Wanna be tagged? Lemme know!)

Trigger warning: period appropriate transphobia (the early 00s were not exactly trans-friendly). This chapter is light on the transphobia, but includes aphobia, deadnaming, panphobia (yes, pansexuality was a term in the early 00s, as I learned just half an hour ago) and vague mentions of child abuse.

—————

Sunday, July 27th, 2003

Incoming call: 218-357-5555

"Ye—"

"Remy? I didn't forget your number? Oh good!"

"...Emile?"

"Yeah?"

"...what's this phone number, darling?"

"Oh! Yeah, I… my phone died, so I got a new one! Sorry I didn't tell you sooner… but, umm, I'm gonna get to the point, yeah okay, happy birthday!"

"Thank… you…? Em, you shouldn't have—"

"Ah, but see, that's where you're wrong! Because I had to, because I said that I have to! You're my best friend in the whole world, what kind of friend would I be if I didn't at least call you to say happy birthday?"

"You're precious, darling."

"Thank you! Oh, did you get my gift yet? I sent it to you in the mail last month! Did you—"

"I did, it was… well, it was unexpected, I'd give you that. Where did you even find a Jack mug anyway?"

"Disneyland…?"

"...you know what, that's fair."

"Yeah! So, happy birthday! I'll be in Manhattan next week, so like… do you wanna go see a show or something…? I haven't seen the Gypsy revival yet…"

"...it's a date, then. But you're paying."

"Yes, yes of course! It's gonna be alright, okay? You trust me?"

"With my life."

"Yay! Okay, okay, umm… yeah. I miss you! Happy birthday!"

"Thank—"

"I gotta go right now at this second it's my cousin's bat mitzvah in two days and I need to get my suit and everything but I'll call you tomorrow evening too okay?"

"Sure… have fun, darling."

"Thank you! Okay, bye!"

—————

"India M—"

"Why didn't you tell me Emile has a new number? I cannot fucking believe you!"

"He wanted to do it himself, peach. On your birthday."

"Okay… okay, I guess that's fair…"

"Happy birthday, too."

"Thanks, mom…"

"So… how'd you spend the week?"

"Nothing big happened… my dad took me to see Nina West last night. It was the fucking best."

"I'll bet. Did you have fun?"

"So much fun! She's fan-fucking-tastic. Honestly. I'd give anything for her to either do me or spare a bit of her funny to me."

"Wow… gay much?"

"Shut up."

"Don't worry, it's fine. I still need to take Jenna to a drag show sometime. Did anyone hit on you…?"

"You'll be surprised how many people hit on my dad, actually. But no. I actually broke up with Chris today because of this."

"Oh? Do tell."

"It wasn't… much. He called me a couple hours ago to say happy birthday, which is fine if you ask me but I just… it ended in him trying to talk me into not talking to Emile again. And that's normal, okay, ain't something I can't handle. But he said ‘sure he's asexual, when he isn't spreading his legs to everyone he's asexual'."

"...did he seriously think he can get away with it?"

"India, no—"

"I don't give a fuck anymore, peach. I'm not going to beat him up, you have nothing to worry about, I just… this shit is so fucking infuriating!"

"I know. But hey, look at the bright side. Ulysses and Mandy said they'll take over next year, I'm gonna let them know. He won't be back."

"That's… that's true. I'll call Mandy later. Don't worry about it. Just… what then?"

"Then I told him that it wasn't his choice, he didn't choose any of it, so he said ‘just like you couldn't choose to stay a girl, Rebecca'."

"...oh yeah. Yeah, definitely. I'm telling Mandy. She'll deck him for sure next time she sees him."

"Thanks, mom. I just… I so wanted to deck him right then! So I gave him a piece of my mind, broke up with him and hung up and deleted his number. Now we wait and see what's gonna happen."

"Good boy. I taught you well."

"Thanks… again… he also said that asexuality isn't real, and—"

"I'm flying down to Texas right now to sock him. I took karate for three years. I can do this."

"India, no… hon. Babe. You need to get settled in DC. You need to—"

"I'm buying the plane tickets right now, Remy! Watch me!"

"—You need to get your life together and get your master's degree. You do not, however, need to go break the nuts of someone who doesn't deserve your attention—"

"Who's the older and wiser one of us?"

"Right now? Not you. You told me this very thing when I wanted to kill that asshole who made a joke out of Emmy, I'm telling you this now. Don't."

"...fine. But if I ever do get the opportunity, I'm doing it."

"Good for you."

"Nobody plays my kids dirty like that."

"You go, mom."

"I will! Oh shit, I have to go!"

"What? Why—"

"I forgot Jenna's parents are coming over today and I need to go pick them up from the airport. I'll call you later to keep catching up, okay peach?"

"Okay, but—"

"Awesome, happy birthday, we love you! See you in two weeks!"

"...see y—"

—————

"...Remy?"

"Good evening, Linda… where's Leah?"

"...and here I thought you called to talk to me. But I suppose I'm only your mother, nothing—"

"Mom, please, I'll talk to you after I tell Leah something really important."

"Alright, I'm sorry. But you got the package we sent you, didn't you?"

"I did, I… I just don't understand. You painted that…?"

"Who else would sign my name on a canvas, Remy?"

"You're… right. I'm sorry. It's very nice. Thank you."

"Happy birthday, son."

"Thank… you…"

"...hello?"

"Leah…? Leah, sweetie, can you hear me?"

"Remy! Oh, oh oh oh Remy I told you I'd tell you about my camp and—"

"And how was your time at camp? Take a breath and then tell me."

"Okay! Okay, so, so we were in the woods, and in cabins, and I kinda wanted to sleep in tents but it didn't happen and it was kinda disappointing but I can always do that later, and…"

—————

August 2003

There was a blackout as Remy was trying to write an essay Dr. Gilliam asked of his class.

So his dad put him on a bus to Georgia, which is why he's making do right now at doing his schoolwork with two children running around.

"We gotta go bowling too!" Leah whispered excitedly. For the fifteenth time this hour. "And then we need ice cream, and, umm, I know where the puppies are, and—"

"Leah, love, I need to finish this essay for school right now. Give me a couple minutes, about twenty, and I'll be with you, okay?"

"Okay!"

Remy couldn't be happier to be there at that moment. He had a plane ticket booked to Boston, his rooming was already set at Lowell, the papers have all been set and he was about to room with Emile, Mandy called him the other day to ask if he'd like to help her run the queer society meetings (and of course he said yes)...

And then there was a crashing sound. And a crying toddler sound. And he had to put his laptop aside to go check on Rachel.

More like run to the kitchen to check on Rachel, who was now standing in front of broken pieces of cheap china and bawling her eyes out.

"No, sweetie, it's okay…" he picked her up and started playing with her hair, hoping to calm her down. "We're gonna clean this, okay? What were you doing with the plate?"

"Tea party!"

"You wanna have a tea party?" She nodded, hiding her face in the crook of his neck. "Okay… okay. Let's wash your face, then pick up the pieces, and then make some tea and have a tea party with your dollies. Okay, love?"

She nodded again, and he kind of had no choice. So he did what he said he'd do, sitting Rachel down in her high chair as he cleaned the broken pieces, and for a moment, he felt like an absolute idiot. He felt like he was his mom.

Well… like Rachel was his mom, and the plate was him, and he was his dad, and holy fuck Emile's show analysis habits have definitely had an effect on him and he really should stop thinking about all this ridiculousness right now.

"Remy?" Leah whispered from behind him as he was picking up the shards. Rachel was entertaining herself, rather unaware of what's going on. "Is daddy gonna be mad?"

"I—" He had to stop. And think before answering. "I don't think so, honey."

"But a plate broke…"

"...he doesn't have to know. It was just a plate. He doesn't count the plates in the cupboard, now does he?" She shook her head, her hair flying everywhere. "So he won't know. Because we won't tell him."

"Okay. I can do that."

"I know you can do that, hon. Now, how about you get your roller skates and we'll go to the park?"

"But you said tea party…"

"We can have a tea party after the park. Rachel, do you wanna go to the park?"

Rachel, who up until then mostly minded her own business, looked over and started nodding with a big smile on her face.

"So we can go to the park and then have a tea party. Where's your roller skates?"

—————

Saturday, August 30th, 2003

"It's always nice to see new faces at the queer society meetings," Mandy said with a huge smile on her face as she balanced the clipboard on her knee, Remy holding her iced coffee. "I'm glad you all could make it today. Now, let's do a name round. Everyone state your preferred name - please no dick jokes, we have people who are very uncomfortable with those in this group as well - and what brings you here, and a small fact you'd like people to know about yourself if you'd want to."

Remy just kept looking over the room. Mandy had this all under control, already having printed out a list to put everyone's names and contacts in for if they need to. India trained her well.

From the corner of his eye, Remy could see Emile bouncing in his seat.

"I'll go first. Hi, I'm Amanda, I go by Mandy, I'm pansexual—"

"That's not a real word," someone called out. Remy did his best not to glare at the person.

He was pretty sure it's Chris.

"Pansexual is a word, Christian," Mandy replied, not even looking at him. "It was coined before your grandmother was even born. Anyway, I'm Mandy, I'm pansexual, and I'm in this wheelchair today because I have fibromyalgia and today is a very bad pain day. Who wants to go next?"

It was the same old sharing circle. Some people elaborated more, some people chose not to. Emile went ham on sharing, telling everyone he was gay and asexual and talking about his bunnies at length, looking as proud as he can be.

And then it got to Remy. And he wasn't nearly as anxious as he was last year.

"I'm Remy, I'm gay and transgender, and my therapist said I can start hormone therapy this year."

#kylo cant write #sanders sides #remy/sleep #emile picani #keep him safe #sleep is for the weak #the remy centric prequel #tw: period appropriate transphobia #tw: aphobia #tw: panphobia #tw: mentions of child abuse #tw: deadnaming

[jaywrites101]

The City In FreeFall: Chapter Four

This is part of my ongoing Beta for my new book The City In FreeFall, slated to be released sometime early in 2020. New chapters are released here and on AO3. Special shout out to my StreetTeam members: @ciestess and @leave-her-a-tome for their advanced reading and suggestions.  On to the story! Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Beaten, bruised, and broken. Oh yeah, today was going exactly according to plan… 

I made it through the front door of our apartment and immediately stumbled towards my bed. The alarm clock next to the bed read 1:48 in bright, red numerals. I wasn't failing Math, so I did a few mental calculations. I had to be at the warehouse by 8:30, which meant I'd have to leave the house by 7:00 at the latest. That left five hours to sleep and set the third part of my plan in motion.

The agonizing pain in my lungs reminded me that five hours wasn't nearly enough time to recuperate. Stupid lungs. They should know better than that by now.

As I approached the bed, everything went dark. I could vaguely feel myself collapsing, in a numb, underwater sense. I was well past my breaking point, but this was different. My mind was still running at top speed, even though my body was failing. Last time I blacked out, it happened too quickly for me to process what was happening. This time I was aware enough to be afraid of it. 

I woke up tied to a chair. On top of our apartment. Leaning over the precipice.

I panicked! The sight of the street below filled me with adrenaline. I threw myself against the straps, completely disregarding my previous injuries. But an orange, scaled hand stopped me from leaning forward.

I thought he was a myth! But that hand was real. The sun setting behind him burned right in my eyes! He pushed my chair further and further back despite my protests. My heart was trying to beat itself out of my chest. Wind tousled my hair while I screamed. Once again, I couldn’t stop myself from looking down. The ground was so far away, the pedestrians below were like ants on a picnic table. My eyes were glued to the asphalt twenty stories straight down.

With a herculean effort, I forced myself to look back at the thing in front of me. Burnished orange scales broke up his silhouette. Humanoid, but not human. His head--Oh God! There was nothing human about that head. Bulged over with a massive lower jaw. And at the top. Two glowing crimson eyes. It was like staring into the depths of Hell and seeing that Hell was staring back!

Movement behind him drew my attention to his tail. It twitched aggressively. "What do you know about Warehouse 15!" he growled. His voice! Even now, sitting alone in my cell, I shiver just remembering it. It was a low growl, impossibly loud! It was the voice of a dragon.

This was DinoHyde.

"Don't kill me!" I pleaded.

"Wrong answer!" he roared in return. With one hand--one--he pushed the chair all the way over the edge. I thought for sure I was about to fall. But the monstrosity still had hold of the back of the chair. Even as all four of the legs swung out into space, that grip held the chair in place. The straps cut into me. Slicing my already bruised body with every shudder.

"Y-you won't kill me--You can't kill me! DinoHyde n-never kills people." At this point, I was pleading more to myself than to him. He pulled me up, just enough to force me closer to those wicked eyes.

"What do you think happens to those people who mysteriously disappear in this city?"

"They were killed by the gangs?"

DinoHyde didn't answer. He didn't need to. I'd heard the tales in the Heap. We all did. Stories that a wild dinosaur was cloned in a lab and exposed to human DNA. No one really believes it. We all grew up just outside that lawless age where vigilantes took up arms to keep the peace. Most of us just assumed DinoHyde was just another vigilante dressed up in a spandex suit. 

Those scales seemed real to me. Somehow, those eyes bored themselves into my skull and pulled out my greatest fear from the deepest recesses. Tears burned their way out of my eyes. Even my mantra was forgotten.

"What do you know about Warehouse 15!" he asked again.

"I-I don't know anything about Warehouse 15," I cried, expecting to fall at any second. "It's just an abandoned Barron Corp storage site. I needed to find a place the SmashStones and the BloodBlades could go wild without getting anyone else hurt! That's it, I swear!"

DinoHyde seemed taken aback. He blinked his eyes a couple of times, at any rate. "You're not working for Lawson?"

"Who?" The name struck a chord with me, but I couldn't place it. I certainly wasn't working for him, whoever he was.

DinoHyde seemed to sense the truth. More confirmation of his supernatural powers. "It's not important," he said. He paused for a minute, his head cocked unnaturally. 

A breeze blew around me. For a moment, I actually thought he was going to drop me. But the moment passed and DinoHyde swung me around back onto the roof. I was stuck facing away from the mutant vigilante. 

I craned my neck so hard I swear something popped, but I still didn't get a good look at him--he just stepped into my blindspot no matter what I did. "You should be in school, kid," he said. His voice was still gravely, but much less harsh. He still didn't know what to make of me.

"I'm not going to school anymore. I'm not going ever again," I returned stubbornly. God, I was such a prick.

"You don't know what you're playing at."

"How can you say that? We're on the same side!"

DinoHyde growled. "You're not on anyone's side, kid!" His voice returned to that deep reverberating tone that scared me so much. "You've made enemies of everyone in the city what with the stupid stunts you just pulled! Stealing a cop car, joining the SmashStones, marching right on up into the BloodBlades stronghold--it's a wonder you haven't killed yourself already!"

At the mention of my heroic deeds, my injuries started throbbing again. In addition to the busted ribs and the hole in my chest, I also had bruises on my back that stung like acid, a tender, itchy line across my throat, a cramp in my left leg, and a collection of cuts on my arms and shoulders. "I guess I just don't have the talent for dying."

DinoHyde smacked at the back of my head lightly. My vision doubled as my eyes crossed from the pain. Add one concussion. Lovely.

"Give it up, brat. You don't have what it takes to make it in this line of work."

"Screw you!" I spat indignantly. "You know, i-if you were out protecting people instead of throwing kids off building tops, I wouldn't have to be here, a-and my friend would still be alive!" 

You know, I didn't think I was doing anything particular by bringing the conversation around to Jerry again. It took me by surprise to realize I meant it this time. Seeing the myth right in front of me… Damn… That gave me someone to blame. Someone besides the gangs. After all the lies and half-truths… This was real. And it hurt. Like a bitch.

I bawled for a solid minute. I've never been any good at handling grief. Even now it's easier to just escape into the past and forget the last couple of days… forget what's happening to me.

DinoHyde let me cry. He waited for me to calm down before he said, "I was sorry to hear about Jerry." That was it. No nonsense, or he's in a better place now like all the other adults kept repeating. 

Just, sorry. 

"He was a good kid,” DinoHyde continued. “Smart. Honest. I wish I could've stopped what happened to him."

"THEN WHY DIDN’T YOU!" I shouted. "You're the monster vigilante! You're the one going around playing hero! Why didn't you--or any of the others--protect him!"

I expected him to smack me over the head again, or maybe tell me off for being a brat. I would've deserved either. But instead, DinoHyde just made an odd wheezing noise that I eventually recognized as a sigh. "It happened in the daylight. I can't operate so freely during the day."

"Whatever," I huffed. I wasn't ready to forgive him so easily. "As soon as you let me go I'm going to clean up your mess for good. There won't be any more kids in caskets."

"It's not that easy."

"Well, maybe you just haven't been trying hard enough!"

DinoHyde spun the chair around into the setting sun once more. He towered over me, those red eyes blazing. "Listen to me kid! What you're doing won't work. The gangs aren't just going to kill each other off just because Sam Farsight has a grudge against them. All you're going to do is start a war that'll burn down this whole city."

I dug my toes into my shoes and forced myself to stare anywhere but at his eyes. The building next to us had a park on its roof. Empty, of course. Most buildings locked their roof access at sunset. It was--

"Sunset…"

"What are you going on about now?" DinoHyde asked.

"It's sunset! And none of the buildings near my apartment have a park on them! Where am I? What time is it??"

DinoHyde huffed. "Relax, kid. We're near the docks, and it's only 7:30-ish."

I quickly ran some more mental calculations. "There's still time, but I've got to hurry. Are you going to let me out of this chair?"

"I will. But I won't help you. What you're doing is suicidal. Both Cutter and SmashStone will be pissed. Even I can't take them both on at once."

"That's fine," I snapped. "I didn't want your help anyway."

"This isn't a game, brat!" DinoHyde growled again. (He does that a lot.) "If you go through with this they will kill you. And I won't be there to save you."

"Then I'll die!" There was something in the force of it that gave the vigilante pause. Conviction, plain and simple. I knew the dangers. But that wasn't going to stop me. "At least I'll die knowing it wasn't in vain. Knowing that I made a difference."

"Kid…" DinoHyde began. But he stopped. Making another one of his strange sighs, he reached behind me and unbuckled the straps that bound me. I wasn't going to stay and chat. I was already limping off to the door.

"Kid!" he tried again. "Listen to me--look, there's a better way. A proper way. Just back down from this madness and I'll--"

"I don't want your help! I'm doing this my way. I don't want anything to do with you!" I limped down the steps, all twenty flights of them. DinoHyde didn't follow after me. I don't know what he did after I left. I didn't care. Was I reckless? Yes. Was I stupid? Yes. Do I regret my actions that day? Oh, most definitely. Did I care at the time? Nope… I was convinced I had things figured out. DinoHyde was just one more test of my resolve.

#The City In FreeFall #book #super powers #superheores #fantasy #StreetTeam #my writing #support authors

[pipermcbadass]

I Wanted To See You Again

I’ve just been thinking about how Piper deals with Jason’s death and maybe Nico raises his ghost and she gets the chance to tell him what she wanted to when he died :-)

this is also dedicated to Tiff @demlgodly because she’s the cause of all my angst, but also shoutout to tiff for putting up with my constant jason grace appreciation messages.

(also i haven’t written in like 10 years pls dont’ come for me)

“Are you sure about this Nico? What if he gets mad that I’m disturbing his presence in the Underworld or something?” Piper asked continuing her pacing. This is how their conversation has been going for the last 15 minutes, Piper doubting this is the right thing, Nico telling her it’s going to be okay.

“He’s been asking me about you whenever I go down there. I just think it’s time you talked to him you know.” Nico throws out, stuffing his hands in the pocket of his jeans. This does not help Piper’s nerves at all, in fact it makes her want to not talk to him even more.

Gods, what is she supposed to say to him? How does she tell him that she thinks about that moment on the ship everyday? How does she tell him she’ll never forgive herself for letting him make that choice. She takes in a deep breath, “Okay lets do this.” Nico does his “I’m king of the Underworld” thing, and next thing she knows she’s face to face with the ghost of her ex boyfriend.

He’s standing in front of her and it’s like he’s actually here. She notices the faint outline that surrounds him and the fact that he has a blueish tint to his skin doesn’t help the fact that she knows this is his ghost, and its not really him. She doesn’t know how to react, she’s been thinking of this day for the last six months. The day when she would see him again. She doesn’t even realize it but a sob escapes her mouth and she takes a step forward, wanting to grab onto him, to feel him. Her hand passes through her shoulder and she doesn’t even realize she’s crying until he tries to touch her face and wipe away her tears. But of course his hand just passes through her, almost like the wind.

“Pipes,” he says in a hushed tone. She gathers some courage and looks up into his face. His blue eyes, which were so full of life at one point in her life, were faded and glossy. Just another reminder to her that he’s passed on and into another life.

“Hey,” she manages to say. This earns a chuckle from him, and she almost starts to cry harder. Gods she hasn’t heard that laugh in the last six months and shit, she really missed it. “How have you been?” he asks. She almost wants to roll her eyes because of course he’s asking her about her, and how she’s doing. Not like he’s dead and chilling in the Underworld for all eternity.

“Gods Jason, I miss you so much. I am so… I shouldn’t have let you do that. You had your whole life ahead of you, and the fact you sacrificed…” she trails off her voice breaking. She’s had to deal with these thoughts for the last six months and if she was being honest, they were eating away at her. She’s had to deal with the fact she was useless for a lot of her demigod life. When she was a part of the seven, she knew she didn’t have the same power or the same experience as her friends and she accepted that. She began to realize she was her own person and she had just as much power as her friends. But all the confidence she built after the battle with Gaea shattered the moment Jason died. There was no way to stop the thoughts that flooded into her head telling her how if she did more or if she fought just a bit more then Jason wouldn’t have had to make the sacrifice he did. If she tried to get Caligula’s attention then maybe Jason wouldn’t have had to die to save her. Gods she should have done anything that could have saved him. These were thoughts that were plaguing her for the last six months, and she couldn’t fight them. They were right, she’ll always have to live with the guilt that Jason died to save her and Apollo, she took his life away and it was her fault.

“Hey. What are you talking about?” he says look genuinely confused. It takes her everything to not roll her eyes at him. “Jason it’s my fault you’re dead,” she whispers so quietly that he almost doesn’t hear, she averts her eyes because how can she look at him after confessing that.

“Piper McLean,” he says with such ferocity that she has to look at him, “I knew what I was doing. That day on the ship, I knew there was no way we were going to win. I wasn’t about to let you, Meg, or Apollo die. That was not happening, no way. I knew the decision I had to make and if I’m honest with you I would make it again. I’m not letting anything bad happen to you ever Piper, just like that time at the Grand Canyon. If saving you was my last act on this Earth then I’m happy you were able to see another day.” That’s when Piper starts bawling her eyes out.

She knows deep down that Jason made his choice, and he’s right he would make that choice over and over again. Deep down Jason Grace was the most selfless demigod ever, he would sacrifice himself to save those he loves. Most would say this is the Roman demigod in him, but no it’s just Jason being Jason and gods she loved him so much for it.

“Hey, come here,” he says and reaches for her, some how she can actually feel his arms wrap around her. She turns to look at Nico and see’s him with a face of concentration, and realizes he’s using his power to solidify Jason’s ghost as much as he can. She take this opportunity and wraps her arms around him in probably the last hug she’ll ever be able to give him.

“I’m also so sorry about the break up,” she whispers so Nico can’t hear. He pulls apart from their hug and gives her one of his goofy smiles. And gods she wishes she could freeze this moment in time forever, she missed that smile so much. “Pipes if you apologize for anything else I’m gonna haunt you for the rest of your life,” he says making her laugh. “Obviously it sucked that you broke up with me, but you needed your space and I you were entitled to that. I just wanted you to be happy Piper, and if you needed to be away from me then that’s what you needed,” he answers scratching the back of his neck and avoiding her eyes.

Piper grabbed his face and looked at him straight in the eyes. “Jason Grace I love you, and I will always love you. My biggest mistake in life will always be not telling you how much I care about you, the fact you died not knowing how much you mean to me will always stay with me. But just know Jace you were my first love and will always have the biggest space in my heart.” she tells him so fiercely and intensely that there is a slight tremor that goes through him. He throws his arms around her again hugging her so tight, and Piper can’t fathom how she’s supposed to go about her daily life after this encounter.

“Piper, I can’t hold the connection for much longer. It’s um, its time to say goodbye,” Nico says from behind her. She can tell from his tone of voice, he hates the fact he can’t hold on any longer and that he’s forcing them to say good bye. “Okay,” she mutters and looks back at Jason. She doesn’t know how she’s supposed to say goodbye to him, she didn’t have the chance to say goodbye before but she does now, and she’s going to make it count. She’s crying again before she can think of what to say.

“Jason Grace, you lived an amazing life. You were the most special person in my life. Being your girlfriend, most importantly your friend, will always resonate with me. I know that what I say now can’t change what happened to you or what will happen in the future, but just know I think about you everyday and not a minute goes by where I wish you were standing right next to me. I’ll never get a future with you and maybe that’s my fate but I wanted a future with you, I wanted so many things with you,” she chokes back another sob, “But just know you left the best impact on both of our camps, our friends, and your family. I’ll love you forever.” She ends off her little speech, and it feels as though her heart is breaking all over again.

“Hey, live your life Piper McLean. You’re going to do great things, you’re going to meet another guy,” which caused her to let out another sob, “You���re going to live a great life, and when you’re amazing life is done I’ll be waiting for you here in Elysium. But do me a favour and make sure you don’t get down here until you’re like 95, or even older.” She lets out a loud, hearty laugh, something she hasn’t done in six months and gods does it feel good.

“I love you too Pipes, so much. Promise me you’ll call me soon? I’m sure my best friend Nico over here wouldn’t mind,” he tells her glancing back at the son of Hades with a smile on his face. Piper turns her head just in time to see Nico roll his eyes and cross his arm, and she also notices the son of Hades has a tear running down her cheek as well. “I promise Jace,” she steps back so she’s standing next to Nico, and she wraps an arm around Nico. She knows that he’s not one for physical contact, but she really needs someone holding on to her right now, and she’s surprised when he wraps an arm around her waist. “Goodbye Piper, see you later,” he adds with a wink before his ghost disappears. That’s when Piper breaks down into Nico’s arms, and although she’s so sad and it feels as though she’s living the worst heart break of her life, just seeing him for a moment has lifted her spirits to new heights. She knows, she’ll be okay.

#i cried while writing this at 2 am #but it had to happen #tiff was there to experience the heart ache #but jason and piper both deserved better #jason grace #piper mclean #Nico di Angelo #jasiper #jasper #jiper #pjo #hoo #toa #the burning maze #rip tag #i wrote something

[fuck-customers]

Long wall of text ahead.

I missed the last time the inbox was open so heres one from october. Amusement park cashier here who written about candles and bracelets before. Love my job but here's some pet peeves and stories. ▪A bit of background: From the end of September threw most of October we have our halloween celebration events, it's like most of the year but with scarers, haunted mazes and everything is decorated with different decor depending on the area it's in. The scary stuff along with the mazes don't start up till 6 pm every day during the event. End of background now to the stories. ● Parents of small children the 1 hour, half hour, and 15 minutes till alerts are for you and your child's benifit. It's warning so you can leave before your child is tramatized by the scarers. I've seen tons of young kids like 10 and under still in the park well after the scary stuff starts up and usually the kids are terrified and/ bawling from being so badly frightened. I can understand if their over 13 depending on the kid but a 8 year old cannot tell the difference between real and pretend when it's dark, theirs fog every where and their loud yells and screams all around them. ● I get that the big guy with a fake ax or reving chainsaw(their real but have no blades) are scary but please don't run, it's dark and their is people everywhere and people have gotten hurt by tripping and falling when their running around in a panic. Seriously a couple of weeks ago a kid was running and they tripped and I think they broke their elbow. ● Yes I think our decor and displays are nice, no you don't need to pick them up and redecorate after you've fake hit your friends with them. • Story time- So their has been the lady and her kid who have been coming for the past few weeks to paint pottery. Normally this wouldn't be to unusual as we get a lot of women and their kids but this one ho bo here we go. She starts painting and ignores her son. He has ran out of the store more times than I can count on both hands, into the crowds that  pass by the shop. I seriously thought he might get snatched and tried to keep a eye on him but I'm not a sitter so he goes off who knows where for up to 5 minutes at the time. I mentioned the displays getting messed with well he gets bored and takes things off of the display and leaves them all over the place. The displays are two sets of shelves with all sorts of rustic tools along with a couple crates and a few fake animal skulls (like cow, deer, and a type of gazelle or goat). He has been mainly been running around with these wooded mallets and the foam axe/hammer that are on their. After last weekend( on I think 10-13) he kept running around smacking them on the porch fences and some of the other display stuff, usually with the foam weapons but sometimes I heard the loud smacks of the wooden mallets on wood over the regular noises. But then he either tossed the foam hammer in the trash or someone stole it because I looked on the porch as well as around it and couldn't find it and it's still gone. I found at least three of the mallets in weird spots and put thoses back, like he wedged one behind a flower pot of all places. Tonight (10-20) they were back and he started to do the same crap he has been doing so I took the foam axe and hid it in the stock room till after they left so what does he do now that the axe is gone? He grabs all four skulls and is running around with them and trying to put them where people can step on them.  So I go over a quickly pick them up and put them back. Also a happy note security followed him in after he was running around out side to tell his mom to keep him close and not to have him run around because he could get taken. She just what like ok and kept painting with at least looking at her kid every once in a while and just yell at him if he tried to leave, though if he did leave she didn't even make the effort to go get him, another person she was chatting with ended up go getting him back. They have been like this for at least the last three times they have been in but the kid has steadily been getting worse with what he's been doing probably because the mom won't do shit. ● Yes the fog machine is really cool, please do not leave the path to put your face directly in the spray as it's shooting out. I've gotten to the point when I see people step in the the grassyish area that the fog machine is on to tell them to please stay on the path. It's right out side our side doors and I've mainly been seeing kids and teens sick their head just to suck some of the fog into their mouths so it looks like their smoking.  It's non toxic but in larger amounts you can smell whatever chemicals they use for them and that's probably not a good thing to do. Of course the main issue is that when they step into that area theirs a couple of cords, a few big rocks and the machine itself and they could easily trip on any of those things which could get them hurt/damage the fog machine. That's all for now thanks for reading.

[sonic-wildfire]

Aftermath: A Sonic Forces AU Fanfiction - Chapter 3

One Year After the War

“Welcome, Sonic. Glad you could make it to your funeral!”

It was a bright, sunny day in Metropolis. Sonic had arrived on one of the rooftops to confront Dr. Eggman. By the hedgehog’s side was the two-tailed canid and his oldest friend—Tails—and accompanying the doctor were his two robot servants Orbot and Cubot, and Infinite.

“Infinite, do it!” Eggman commanded the jackal.

“Take this!” Infinite exclaimed, materializing a portal in mid-air as he backed away from the swirling vortex.

“That, my spiky little frenemy, is null space,” Eggman informed Sonic.

“Null space?” he interrogated, motioning for Tails to keep his distance.

“It's a little something that the Phantom Ruby cooked up, a closed-off space where absolutely nothing exists! Goodbye, Sonic, my soon-to-be-eradicated nemesis. Enjoy all the nothing!”

As Eggman finished speaking, the portal swelled and the vortex began to suck Sonic in. No problem, he thought. He knew that Gadget—the rookie wolf that had been assisting him throughout the war—would be sucked in as well, giving Sonic the opportunity to escape with a Double Boost.

But nothing grabbed his arm. Sonic was going to be sucked in. Alone.

Suddenly, Sonic shrieked as he woke up in the safety of his own bed. He had broken into a cold sweat and his heart was aggressively palpitating. He could almost feel it launching itself out of his chest.

Still trembling from the nightmare, Sonic reluctantly ambled out of bed, out of the house, and down the street for twenty minutes to reach Amy’s place of abode. It was 2:45 AM, but he knocked on the door regardless. Luckily for him the fuchsia hedgehog was still up, reading a book. After a moment she got up, walked over, and opened the door.

“I’m really sorry to do this right now, but I just had a really bad night terror related to… you know…” explained Sonic.

“That’s okay.” Amy spoke with solace. “Did you want to crash on my couch for the night?”

Sonic responded affirmatively and thanked Amy for her altruism. She then went to fetch him a blanket. In a couple minutes she returned with a spare wool blanket, draping it over Sonic.

“I also kind of wanted to talk.” Sonic said tentatively.

“Are you sure?” Amy asked, setting her book aside. “You look really tired; I think it’d be best if you got some sleep. Perhaps we could talk tomorrow?”

Sonic mulled it over for a moment before he agreed with her. Amy continued reading as Sonic’s eyes closed and sleep overtook him.

The next morning, Sonic woke up in another cold sweat. This time, though, he wasn’t exactly sure why; he didn’t have another nightmare, so why was he sweating? The cerulean hedgehog slowly rose from the couch and saw Amy sitting at a table in the kitchen across the hallway, a cup of what appeared to be tea in her hand. Sonic, still wrapped in a blanket, sauntered into the room.

“Morning, Ames,” he buzzed.

“Good morning,” Amy yawned. “I guess we’re both up pretty early, huh?”

Sonic looked up at a clock on a wall somewhere in the room. 6:30 AM, it read.

“Wow,” he laughed, scratching the back of his head. “I didn’t even know it was this early.”

Amy chortled. “Hey, didn’t you tell me you wanted to talk about something last night?”

“Oh, yeah,” Sonic answered. “I did.”

“What was it about?”

Sonic’s mind went blank. He completely forgot.

“Uhh…”

“It’s okay if you don’t remember,” Amy assured him. “You can tell me if you remember later.”

“Alright,” Sonic admitted.

It was actually quite a while since Sonic had eaten; he ran on empty all of yesterday and skipped breakfast and lunch the day before that. He was ravenously hungry and was about to ask if Amy minded that he went to grab something to satisfy his hunger.

“I was planning on meeting up with Silver for breakfast this morning,” she said. “Wanna tag along?”

He chuckled. “Amy, you can read my mind. I’ve been starving for something to eat.”

Two hours later, the small array of hedgehogs were sitting at a booth in a small restaurant. It was practically empty, save for a few elderly patrons who paid the three no mind.

“So, what’s been going on lately with everyone?” Silver queried.

“Sonic slept over at my house last night because he was having night terrors,” Amy informed the argent hedgehog. “He also said that he wanted to talk about something, but he forgot what he wanted to talk about.”

“Now that you mention it,” Sonic butted in, “I do remember what I wanted to talk about.”

Amy and Silver both set down their forks and listened intently.

“It’s something that’s been bothering me quite a bit for a while now. Survivor’s guilt, I think they call it. Y’know how in movies, when someone survives a disaster or something, they’ll sometimes ask themselves why they lived when others didn’t? That’s what I’ve been going through. I never really felt the need to bring it up until now; I just thought it was normal until recently.”

“What do you mean by ‘you thought it was normal’?” said a perplexed Amy.

“I mean...I thought maybe it was just one of those things that naturally happened after an event like the war,” Sonic mused. “Other than craving chili dogs, of course ...heh heh…”

Silver grinned at Sonic’s joke, covering his mouth as he tried to hold in his laughter.

“...But really,” the blue hedgehog continued with a faint smile, “I think a lot of it ties into the whole torture thing with the Death Egg…”

Sonic momentarily floundered.

“Sorry, I’m… still not used to saying… that…” he stumbled.

“Oh no, take as much time as you need,” insisted Amy. “We’re not in any rush.”

Sonic breathed a huge sigh. “Listen… I understand this is really not something you guys want to listen to right now, so I guess I should just zip it until Amy and I return home…”

“Now why the hell would we want you to do that, Sonic?” Silver blurted out before quickly realizing what he had just said. Luckily the few other patrons that had been there were already gone. Other than the three of them, the place was completely empty.

He apologized. “Pardon my language. I meant to say that… sure, it might not be something we want to listen to but it’s something we need to listen to.”

Then Silver came up with an idea.

“Hey, Amy, do you mind if Sonic and I step outside for a moment?”

“Not at all,” she admitted.

The two male hedgehogs got up and filed out the front door into the parking lot. It was a windless morning and somewhat chilly. Clouds rolled through the area, but no sign of an imminent storm.

“There’s something that Amy and I have been meaning to tell you for months now,” Silver confessed.

Sonic’s eyes ballooned. “Which is…?”

“Survivor’s guilt, PTSD, depression—you said you’ve been suffering from these, right?” Silver asked.

Sonic wordlessly nodded his head in response.

“Well, we’ve all been going through the same,” Silver revealed. “You’re in the same boat as everybody else: me, Knuckles, Shadow, Amy—heck, even Tails—we’re all dealing with the same devils.”

Sonic was thunderstruck. He was completely frozen in disbelief, unable to speak. His eyes were as big as watermelons and his mouth gaped open.

“Do you remember the rookie, Sonic? The wolf that accompanied you during some of the missions during the war?”

Sonic nodded. “Yes,” he confirmed.

“He’s been done a great deal of pain, too. Last we heard, he was residing in Station Square. We don’t know anything else about what he’s been up to beyond that.”

Sonic slowly lowered his head. “Now I just feel bad.”

“For what?”

“For not knowing. If I had known you guys were feeling blue, I would’ve sacrificed a lot of my time to help you guys feel better. That’s my fault for not knowing. I should be less ignorant about these sorts of things.”

“No, no, no! It’s completely fine!” Silver quickly assured the blue hero, raising both hands in the air with his palms facing away from himself. “You did nothing wrong. I’m just saying that everybody’s been having a rough time; you aren’t alone, that’s all.”

Sonic took a deep breath. “I know that, it’s just...it’s been nearly three decades that I’ve been in a chronic state of altschmerz—always gnawing away at the same old shortcomings, the same old insecurities—and the world has gotten significantly greyer for me since my capture. I’m no longer the person I used to be, Silver. And I fear I’ll never figure it all out before our time is up. I’m scared I may never find my way.”

Silver placed his hands on Sonic’s shoulders.

“Sonic...you’ve never let negativity bog you down before—not to this extent, anyway. While I’ll admit I don’t fully understand how you’re feeling, I want to at least try. I know there’s still a part of you that’s reminiscent of who you were; I can feel it. And you’re 15 years old, man; you’ve still got your entire life ahead of you. Your friends have stuck with you through thick and thin, just like you’ve done the same for them.”

A ray of hope flashed before Sonic’s eyes.

“We’re going to make it, alright? I promise you, we’ll figure this out.”

At this point, Sonic was trying his absolute hardest not to bawl. His lips quivered, he clenched his teeth, he shut his eyes as tight as he could while tears poured down the sides of his face. He was breathing heavily, stifling any sound he might make.

“We’re all pulling for you, Sonic. Don’t ever forget that.”

Finally, Amy had walked out the front door of the restaurant and saw Silver embracing Sonic in a bear hug, patting him softly on the upper back as the blue hedgehog quietly wept on the other’s shoulder.

“I told him everything.” Silver immediately said to Amy.

“You told him everything?”

“Yes, Amy. Everything.”

[Prelude]  [Previous Chapter] [Next Chapter]

#sth #Sonic the Hedgehog #Sonic the Hedgehog AU #Sonic Forces #Sonic Forces AU #Sonic Fanfiction #Fanfiction #Dr. Eggman #Infinite the Jackal #Amy Rose #Silver the Hedgehog #PTSD TW #Depression TW #Survivor's Guilt TW #Survivor's Remorse TW