#and beating my stupid stupid depression and brain with a stick until i get there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ladynearthelake · 1 year

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Untitled Pacific Rim Fic

In the spirit of fic amnesty, I decided to post a work in progress from like three years ago that I still think about sometimes, but have no motivation to work on any more.

This was inspired by @skull-bearer ‘s Avengers AU that they posted both here and on AO3. Here’s the link for the curious! I still go back and read it sometimes when I need that Newmann love in my life.

Please enjoy this loose collection of scenes that deserved to see the light of day! It’s just over 6k with some violence and some swearing. Very much not beta read, so apologies for any spelling and grammar errors.

~~~

Newt stretches his arms above his head as he pushes back from his desk. It’s been quiet in the lab tonight, and he’s spent most of the day convincing himself that he’s going to cut out early. He’s reached a good stopping point for the evening. He checks his bag again before closing down his work station and heading for the door.

Newt’s needed a night to himself, and he knows exactly how he’s going to spend it. He pulls his well-worn hoodie on, carefully avoiding the very large goons that his benefactor employs. Most of Hannibal Chau’s organization knows that Newt’s not to be messed with, but that doesn’t stop Newt from treading lightly. At least, he does when he remembers to keep his big, obnoxious mouth shut.

Work in the city had been impossible to find when Newt first arrived. He’d accumulated an upsetting amount of debt in his undergrad and was looking at even more for his doctorate program. The money problem seemed insurmountable, until he stumbled into Hannibal Chau’s orbit. Newt can’t even remember how it happened exactly. One day he was in a coffee shop, close to tears about trying to find work that could cover all his bills and expenses, and then suddenly the most powerful mobster in town was laying an arm across his shoulders and offering him the moon.

It was the stupidest decision he’d ever made. Newt had been a bit of a shining star throughout his academic career. Chau was the type of person that followed those developments. He wanted access to Newt’s brain, and Newt handed it over. There was less and less time for school. Most of his time was spent in the lab or picking up bartending shifts at Chau’s various clubs on his off nights.

He was in the lab the first time he heard Chau rail on about the new hero in town. That was all it took for Newt to spiral into an evening of shaky YouTube videos and eye witness accounts on Reddit forums. He kept his own tiny studio apartment that was a fair distance away from Chau’s operation, and there he started to accumulate data. Newt wanted to know everything about the new guy in town that was ballsy enough to stand up to his boss. Some nights, after he got home entirely too late, he’d climb onto the fire escape and just watch the skyline, hoping for a glimpse of the hero. He’d fantasize about pulling on a mask himself and messing with Chau’s operations.

Tonight, Newt’s going to stake out the neighborhood with the most sightings and try to get a glimpse. He’s had a few other times where he’s tried, but he has a good feeling about tonight.

The neighborhood isn’t great, but Newt puts up his hood and sticks close to the well-lit streets. He knows how to make himself small and non-threatening. He can be invisible if he needs to be.

Briefly, the very stupid idea of getting himself into trouble flits across his mind, but Newt decides against it. Being in Chau’s organization, he’s taken his share of beatings. It’s never fun, and the recovery interferes with getting his work done. When Chau sets a deadline, he didn’t allow for delays.

Newt tries to not think about his boss any more than he absolutely has to. He finds it depressing.

The city is eerily quiet as Newt wanders. He fantasizes about what he’ll do if he runs into the hero. Newt’s only seen blurry photos posted on the various forums that he’d been haunting, but he was able to compile an approximation in his mind. That approximation also happened to be pretty cute. He couldn’t help himself. His situation being what it was, Newt lets himself fantasize about a handsome hero carrying him away from it all.

With a heavy sigh, Newt glances down the alley he happens to be passing. An impossible flicker of light caught his eye before a moving van flies towards the opening. Newt stares dumbly at the vehicle, unable to scream or move. Another light flashes in front of him, and the bumper of the car smashes into a golden wall that appears to protect him. Newt watches the van crash against it and then flip over his head into the empty street.

Finding himself able to breathe again, Newt looks from the van and back into the alley. The light from the barrier retreats into the darkened shadows as he takes off in a dead sprint, fumbling with his phone as he runs. He doesn’t think as he hurls himself further into danger, but he skips to a stop beside a large dumpster. His eyes can barely understand what he’s seeing.

The hero is awash in golden light. They hover above the ground as they artfully dodge between the goons in very familiar colors.

Newt presses back against the dumpster, his phone forgotten in his hand. He sneaks a glance around the side of his hiding spot as an errant goon is thrown his way. He pretends that he doesn’t recognize the unconscious body laying prone before him as he takes in the sight before him. From this angle, Newt can see the hero’s eyes. The golden light reflects against chocolate brown eyes, and Newt’s heart stutters in his chest.

He’s so distracted, Newt doesn’t realize his dumpster is being surrounded by the light and chucked to the opposite end of the alley, stopping two other goons from escaping. The hero doesn’t see him, but blazes after the others.

Newt should leave, but he can’t help but stay to watch. The hero’s movements are fluid and powerful. They use their light to dispatch the last two fleeing men, and Newt can’t help the smile that pulls across his face. He wants to run up and ask a thousand questions, but he’s already overstayed his welcome. He turns to go but finds that his body won’t move. He’s warm all of a sudden, and he’s being spun around. Soon, he’s hovering at eye level with the hero who has a hand cocked back and ready to attack.

Newt blinks stupidly.

‘Oh, forgive me.’ The hero says with a muffled British accent. Their eyes turn apologetic before the light recedes and Newt is set back on his feet. ‘Sorry about the van. No part of the it hit you, did it?’

Newt feels the brown eyes scan over his body as he shakes his head. He can’t find words in the moment. He’s slipped in the hero’s eyes and can’t seem to pull himself out. Beneath the hood, Newt notes the wisps of dark hair across their forehead. They’re taller than Newt too, even though that isn’t any great feat. They’re floating, but if their feet were touching the ground, they would still have a few inches on Newt.

An awkward moment hangs between the them before the hero clears their throat behind their scarf. Newt finally pulls himself out of his stupor.

‘Shit, sorry.’ He rubs the back of his head and nervously laughs. ‘Got a little...um...jammed up there. And no! The van didn’t hit me, so thanks for that.’

‘I should be a bit more careful about where I toss my toys.’

Their accent is slowly melting Newt’s insides. He wonders how inappropriate it would be to throw himself into a super powered stranger’s arms and smooch until they both forget about literally anything else.

‘Yeah...I think the pedestrians around here would appreciate that.’

Sirens start to grow louder as Newt tries to school his face into anything but panic.

‘Oh dear.’ The hero says. ‘We can’t have them finding you here among these miscreants, can we?’ They slap their hands together and their upper body radiates with the golden light. Newt barely has a second to marvel at it up close before the hero scoops him up. They fly straight up and then hover for a moment before a proper landing area is selected. The sirens fade into the night as the hero lightly lands in a small park.

‘Apologies.’ They say as they set Newt back on his feet.

Newt’s hands have curled into fists and tucked themselves under his chin during the short flight. He is sure his eyes are wide with wonder. He could swear he saw a hint of amusement in the hero’s eyes.

‘No worries, dude.’ Newt says, trying not to sound as breathless as he feels. He smooths his hands down the front of this jacket and sticks them in his pockets. He doesn’t need them for anymore fangirling poses. ‘Uh, thanks for getting me out of there.’

‘The least I could do after nearly crushing you with a van full of stolen goods.’

Newt’s sure the hero winks at him before they turn and fly off. He stands there for a moment longer before realizing he didn’t ask for a name or anything. He reaches for his cell phone so he can figure out where he is, but comes up with empty pockets and a stab of fear in his chest. Did he drop it in the alley? Or did it fall out during their flight?

‘Shit.’ Newt kicks at the grass and starts walking in a random direction. Most of his stuff was backed up, but he doesn’t like the idea of anyone knowing he had an interaction with the hero. He isn’t too keen on that information getting back to Chau. His boss is volatile enough as it is.

Thoughts of his phone with the very obviously him cracked screen and Godzilla case keep Newton up all night. He finds his way home and manages to keep the panic tamped down until he is in his bed with the broken springs. He tries not to think about how Hannibal has informants in the police. He’s pretty sure he didn’t actually record anything during the encounter, but if anything is on the phone it could be bad.

When he walks into the warehouse the next morning, everything seems fine. Newt makes his way over to his little corner of the universe and settles in for another long day. There is a bit of tension in the air, but that has been the norm in Chau’s properties since the hero appeared a few months back. Chau has the biggest operation in town. He is into everything a criminal could think to make their way in. Anything the hero busts up directly affects Chau’s bottom line.

About halfway through the day, Chau bursts into the warehouse. Newt tries to duck behind his computer monitors. A few of his goons scurry in after him, and even with his headphones in, Newt can tell they are discussing the bust from last night. He turns off his music but leaves his headphones in. He wants to hear what they have to say...

Newt’s headphones are ripped out of his ears and a massive hand grabs his chin. His body slams against the wall beside his work station. Chau forces his jaw upwards.

‘Somethin’ funny, Geiszler?’

Newt’s eyes betray how terrified he is. Chau usually reserves his fury for the muscle. He’s raised his voice to Newt before, sure. He’s even screamed, but he’s never violently touched him. He swallows the sarcastic reply of your men’s complete incompetence in the face of the hero and just stares at his boss.

Chau snarls and pulls Newt away from the wall. ‘I just asked you a question.’ He states before slamming Newt back again. His head hits hard, and he sees stars for a moment.

‘N-no, sir.’ He manages to reply.

‘You’re worse than these idiots, you know that?’ Chau’s voice is low and dangerous. His breath smells of too many cigars. ‘You’re supposed to be the brains around here. Build them something that they can use against that hero fuck.’

Newt doesn’t bother to tell Chau that his grad work had been in biology. He has tinkered with machines, but he’s pretty sure he can’t build a weapon to take out someone with supernatural powers.

‘Didn’t Geiszler run into that do-gooder once?’ A voice calls from the other side of the lab. Newt has never been in the good graces of the Chau’s goons. They think he’s coddled. To an extent, they’re right. It’s Fang, the bald woman who would kill without a thought for Chau.

Hannibal misses the glare that Newt throws at her as he looks back towards the voice. When the mobster turns back to Newt, he smiles cruelly.

‘Is that so?’

Newt swallows with effort around Hannibal’s steel grip. ‘It was just once. They....I didn’t get a good look. It was late, and they weren’t close.’

‘What did you see?’ Chau demands. ‘You must have seem something.’

‘I didn’t get that close.’ Newt lies, remembering the sensation of gliding through the air in the hero’s strong arms. ‘They may have been a guy. I don’t want to make any assumptions, but--’

Chau rolls his eyes before turning the other gathered in the room. ‘Give us some space.’

Newt watches the pleased looks on the thugs as they leave the lab. Each of them assumes Newt’s in for the beating of a life time. Newt’s pretty sure they’re right. He flinches when Chau turns back to him, but instead of violence, Newt’s released from Chau’s grasp. His knees wobble, but Newt manages to catch himself before he can slide down the wall.

‘Tell me the truth ‘cause I’ll know if you’re lying.’ Hannibal starts. ‘You go looking for that asshole?’

Keenly aware of Chau’s ability to discern lies from fact and not wanting to push his luck, Newton nods. ‘I...um....I find them fascinating. From a purely biological stand point. I’ve never seen anything like it. I didn’t think--’

‘I don’t need the full dissertation, kid.’ Chau straightens Newt’s shirt collar as he talks and then pats his cheek. ‘You were able to find him.’

Newt nods again.

Chau steps back from Newt and rights the chair Newt had been sitting in before Chau lost it. He places a hand on Newt’s shoulder and gently eases him into the chair. Newt tries to look back at him, but Chau’s other hand comes to a rest on his opposite shoulder. Newt stares ahead at his computer screen.

‘I know you regret taking the deal we made when you first got to town.’

Newt nervously swallows again. He isn’t sure where this is going.

‘So, let me give you an out.’

Newt stills. He isn’t sure that he’s heard correctly.

‘You find me a way to take this asshole down, and I’ll let you out of the deal.’

Newt licks his lips before he can find his voice. ‘What?’

‘Don’t make me change my mind, kid. This guy is fucking with my profits, and I’m getting desperate. Losing you’d be a real kick in the nuts, but if I can use that big brain of yours to take this guy down, then so be it.’

There are tears fighting to roll down Newt’s cheeks as he considers what this would mean. He’d get to go back to grad school. He could finish his degree and get a proper job. He could travel back home to see his father and his uncle. He could live his life as he wanted.

As much as this is everything Newt could want, a small voice dissents in the back of his mind. Chau is a mobster. He can’t be trusted. Newt could deliver the hero to Chau on a silver platter, and Chau could still decide that Newt is his.

He remembers the nights on his fire escape, hoping for a glance of the hero that’s trying to make this city a better place.

If he doesn’t take the deal, Newt is sure that Chau will just make his life a living hell anyway. The fact that he’s even offering something like this is insane. Chau won’t offer it again, and next time he asks, it won’t be so nicely. There really isn’t a choice, is there?

‘Yeah...’ Newt hears his voice answer. ‘Yeah. You’ve got a deal.’

Hermann manages to get through the day despite the soreness in his hip and his back. He has been pushing too hard during his evening excursions, and his magic can only sooth those hurts so much. The aches and pains have been catching up to him, and he considers taking an evening off in the near future.

He mulls the notion over as he takes a cab back to his flat. Can a man who has dedicated himself to protecting a city take an evening off? If something were to happen, Hermann doesn’t know that he could forgive himself. Perhaps tonight he can just do a quick patrol around the city. Just an hour or two, and then come home for an adequate night of sleep.

Though, Hermann’s restless nights aren’t all about the job. He tries to convince himself not to think about the young man with the green eyes and freckles from the other night. He’s only moderately successful. As the cab pulls up to his building, Hermann shoos the thoughts from his head. He decides to makes his rounds quickly and without distraction.

Hermann pays the driver and makes his way upstairs. The elevator ride is slow and tedious, and the doors open sluggishly when he reaches his floor. Being inside is stifling. He wants to fly.

After a quick dinner, Hermann takes a half dose of his medication for the pain in his hip. It will help, but he’ll still be sharp. A fair trade off. In the privacy of his home, Hermann isn’t afraid to use his magic to brace his leg. If the blinds are closed, which they usually are, he’ll even float across the floor. Tonight, he strolls into his study and pulls the false bookcase on the far wall open. He admires his costume, simple and light with a hood and a scarf that covers the lower half of his face. It hid his blush well the other night.

And now, Hermann’s back to thinking of the easy weight of the green-eyed man in his arms and the awe on his face during their short flight to the park. His cheeks flush as he allows himself a moment to dwell before changing. He pushes the bookcase back into its locked position before walking out to his balcony. With his hood and scarf in place, Hermann regards his city. He closes his eyes and takes in the noise. A deep breath, and he pushes off, flying into the night sky.

‘To what do I owe this sudden visit, Geiszler?’ Chau asks from behind his desk. He lights up a cigar as he regards Newt with barely concealed annoyance.

Newt takes a deep breath, pushes away the last desperate rational thought in his head that’s screaming at him to get out of there, and strides up to the desk. Chau eyes him suspiciously as Newt plants his feet.

‘The deal’s off.’

For a moment, Chau isn’t sure that he heard correctly. He takes another long drag of his cigar before setting it in the ashtray on his desk. ‘Care to elaborate?’

‘With...with the hero. It’s off. I’m not doing it anymore.’

Chau wears dark glasses that make it impossible to see where he’s looking, but Newt can feel his eyes boring into him.

‘I’m sorry.’ Chau pushes back from his desk and stands from his chair. Newt tries to stand at his full height, but it doesn’t matter. Chau moves around the desk and looms over him. ‘One more time?’ He waves his hand at Newt, waiting for him to repeat what he said.

Newton clears his throat. ‘I said that I’m out. I want to go back to our original agreement.’

Chau throws his head back again and laughs. Newt shrinks back as he does, but Chau grabs his shoulder. HIs thick fingers hurt through Newt’s jacket and pin Newt in place.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought you said.’ Chau says. ‘Oh, I haven’t laughed like that in a while. But let me get this straight. You come in here saying you want out of our deal. You’ve been around long enough to know that’s not really how things work.

‘But now I need to ask myself. Why would he want out of the deal? I thought it was a pretty solid one. I know you hate working here. You don’t hide it very well. So, knowing that, I have only one conclusion to come to.’

‘And what’s that?’ Newt asks. He’s very nervous all of a sudden, but he can’t move away. Chau’s grip is firm on his shoulder.

‘You’ve taken a shine to this hero fuck. You like him, so you figured you’d come into my office and try to do the noble thing. Which, I’ll admit, I didn’t see coming from you.’

Newt pales as Chau’s hand moves from his shoulder to his throat. His fingers tighten around Newt’s neck and pull him in close. Newt’s hands fly up to Chau’s wrist, trying and failing to get any kind of leverage.

‘But, I don’t know why you’d want out. I said I’d let you walk away if you gave me a way to take that fucker down. And you have.’ Chau smiled. ‘You walked right into my office and all but told me you both care about each other. Thanks, kid.’

Newt's eyes go wide as he realizes just how stupid he’s been. He fights to get out of Chau’s grip, but he isn’t conscious for long enough to make a difference. Chau punches him in the side of the head, and everything goes black.

Hannibal holds Newt’s unconscious form up by the front of his shirt as he rifles through his pockets. He eventually finds the cell phone he’s looking for and flips through the contacts. Newt wasn’t the most social person, so he only had a few people listed.

Finding what he assumes is the appropriate number, Chau initiates the call.

It rings several times before an angry man answers.

‘Newton, I believe I made myself very clear when I said--’

‘The kid was never one to take a hint.’ Chau interrupted. ‘No matter how clear you may have been. Trust me.’

The line goes quiet for a moment. ‘Who is this? Why do you have Newton’s phone?’

‘You’re a smart man. Do the math.’

‘If you’ve hurt him--’

‘Spare me the speech. We can discuss your little friend’s health tonight. 11pm. There’s an abandoned subway station on State between First and Second. Eleven sharp, hear me?’

A curt affirmative comes across the line before Chau hangs the phone up. He drops Newt to the floor first, followed by the cell phone. Newt starts to come to as Chau stomps down on the device.

Newt shakes his head, willing himself back to coherency. He crawls towards the door, but a heavy weight presses down on his back. Panic churns in his chest as he wriggles to get free. He feels fingers grab his hair and pull his head back.

‘We’ve got a date to get you ready for, kid.’ Chau says with a laugh.

Hermann lands with a stutter-step as he releases the aura around him. Flight has become second nature to him since he tamed his powers. He shifts focus to his hip, willing his magic to support it as he approaches the subway station entrance. The padlock has already been broken, despite Hermann being early. He floats down the stairs and holds out his hands to illuminate the gloomy space. He easily lofts over the turnstiles, making sure that his scarf and hood adequately cover his face.

In the dark, Hermann can hear bodies moving. He knows that Chau’s men are watching and following him further into the station. He takes note of their positions, and descends the staircase to the platform. The scurrying of henchmen dies down, but he can hear panicked gasping the further he floats.

The platform is dark with the exception of a few overhead lights that still function. It stinks of rot and disuse. A cold wind howls through the tunnels, chilling the dank space. Hermann takes it all in and manages to keep his composure when he sees Newton standing under one of the lights.

Standing isn’t the appropriate descriptor. As Hermann slowly approaches, he notes the large hand holding Newton up by the back of his neck. Hermann grits his teeth at the state of Newt. The left side of his face is bruised and his cheek is cut. His arms appear to be bound behind his back. He’s shaking like a leaf, either from fear or the fact that he’s wearing a short sleeve shirt and ripped jeans as the wind howls in the tunnel. His eyes are wide and terrified as he notices Hermann.

‘No no no no! You gotta get ou--!’ He manages to say before the hand at his neck snakes around to clamp over his mouth. He struggles before he’s pulled tight against the large man looming in the shadow.

Hannibal Chau steps forward, Newton securely held in one hand and a garish, gold-plated gun in the other.

‘I don’t think we need any introductions here. I know you, and you know me.’ Chau sneers. ‘So you know that I have no problem blowing him away if you don’t comply.’

Hermann says nothing, but tries to project cool confidence even though his heart is trying to jackhammer through his ribs. His eyes dart between Newt, Chau and the gun.

‘You’ve got two options.’ Chau continues. ‘You can either come work for me, or get the hell out of my city. Do either, I’ll let your little boyfriend here live.’ Newton tries to squirm away, but Chau holds him fast. ‘He'll stay with me though. He still has to work off his debt. I’m sure he told you about the deal we had. You told him, right, little guy?’ Chau taps the barrel of the gun against Newton’s cheek.

‘He’s into me for a lot of money. Advaned degrees doesn’t come cheap, but you’re some fancy rich boy, ain’t cha?’ Chau says before addressing Newton. ‘Just one other reason this whole thing would have never worked, kid.’

Chau focuses back on Hermann and presses the gun barrel hard into Newton’s temple. ‘What’s it gonna be?’

Newton opens his eyes and meets Hermann’s steel gaze. Hermann can tell he’s trying to communicate something, but he can’t tell what. As Hermann opens his mouth to reply, Newton brings his left foot up and stomps it down onto Chau’s. The larger man yelps more from surprise than pain and releases his iron hold on Newt. He curls forward as he swears. Newt takes the opportunity to slam his head back, crashing into Chau’s face.

'NOW!’ Newton shouts as he falls forward. It’s a plea to do anything.

Hermann obliges and ignites his magic as Chau snarls and grabs for Newton again. Expertly, Hermann twists his fingers and mutters an incantation to slow everyone in the room down to a crawl aside from himself. It will only last a few moments, but he uses his advantage to cross the room and pull Newton close. Hermann fires a charge from his fist towards Chau. Time flicks back to its original speed as the mobster explodes into the far wall. The weak structure collapses on top of him.

A beat passes before the henchmen begin firing their pistols at Hermann. Newt winces, waiting for the impact of the bullets. He tucks himself against Hermann’s leg as the magician bends the laws of physics to his whims. Hermann swirls the air around him and the bullets are caught up in the maelstrom. He fires them harmlessly into the ceiling before turning his focus on the henchmen.

After a moment, the only sound is the water draining from a broken pipe and the fading crackling from Hermann’s magical energy. Hermann releases the breath he’d been holding and let’s his feet hit the ground. Newt’s curled up in front of him, still bracing for an unseen impact. His eyes are squeezed shut.

Hermann looks down at him and finds that any anger he may have been holding has dissolved. He snaps his fingers and hears the clank of the handcuffs as they slip off Newt’s wrists. A gasp of relief escapes Newt’s mouth as his arms fall back to their natural position. He rubs at the raw and bruised flesh at his wrists.

Pulling off his scarf and his hood, Hermann falls to his knees in front of Newt and wraps the smaller man in his arms.

‘You’re such a fool.’ He whispers. He feels a tremor go through Newt and tightens his embrace.

‘I know.’

‘Come, now. Let me look at you.’

Newt reluctantly pulls away and meets Hermann’s eyes. The bruise on his cheek is settling into an ugly purple color with streaks of dried blood across his face. His eyes are red and exhausted. He might be the most beautiful thing Hermann’s ever seen.

‘I’m so sorry, Herms.’ He says, unable to hold eye contact. ‘I never meant for this to happen.’

‘Listen to me.’ Hermann tilts Newt’s chin back up and lightly runs his thumb over Newt’s bruised cheek. ‘We can talk about everything else later. All that matters is that you’re safe now.’

A wobbly smile passes over Newt’s lips as he curls back into Hermann’s embrace. ‘My hero.’ He whispers.

Hermann caresses the back of his head before noting the sound of police sirens on the cusp of his perception. He lets his magic flow over his upper body and easily lifts Newton into his arms.

‘Let’s get you home.’

Newt pulls away to smile and nod, but he catches a glint of light from the corner of his eye. Chau is out of the rubble and aiming his gun at Hermann’s back. Newt’s face flashes between terror and determination as he shoves Hermann away. The gun goes off a second later, and Newt feels the bullet wing his shoulder. He cries out in pain before crumpling on the ground, pressing hard as he can at the blood spurting from the wound.

Hermann stumbles as Newt pushes him. He barely gets up the bracing spell he uses for his hip before he registers what’s happened. He sees Newt fall and the blood spatter over the subway tiles. He hears Chau stalking closer, cocking the gun again and taking aim.

‘Shouldn’t have reneged on our deal, Geiszler.’ Chau says as he aims at Newt’s head.

Hermann howls with rage as he summons all his power and crushes the gun and Chau’s hand. Hermann extends his hand and tendrils of light erupt out of it. They wrap around Chau’s wrist and force the mobster’s arm violently behind his back. The light worms around Chau’s body, wrapping tightly around his neck. Hermann makes a fist, and Chau is brought to his knees, hissing at the pressure on his arm.

Newt had tensed for the killing shot, but untangles himself when it doesn’t go off. He looks over his uninjured shoulder and sees a Hermann he doesn’t recognize. Light pulses off him. He growls with rage. This is a Hermann that’s ready to kill.

Forcing himself to his feet, Newt moves behind the magician and painfully wraps his arms around his waist. Hermann’s magic singes his skin, but Newt tightens his hold.

‘This isn’t you.’ Newt whispers into Hermann’s back. ‘Please, don’t do this.’

The contact pulls Hermann back. He shakes his head and releases Chau. The mobster crumbles to the ground gasping for air and cradling his destroyed fingers to his chest. Without a word, Hermann turns in Newt’s embrace and pulls the other man tight to his chest. His shoulder wound shows no signs of slowing the bleed. Hermann quickly pulls off his scarf and wraps it tightly around Newt’s shoulder.

‘I think it went straight through. Doesn’t feel like anything important got hit’ Newt says through gritted teeth. ‘They’re going to see your face without the scarf, dude.’

Hermann regards Newt’s pale face for a moment before pulling up his hood. ‘Will you hide my face, then?’

If the blood loss is getting to Newt, he isn’t showing it. He nods once and wraps his good arm tightly around Hermann’s neck. The other, he cradles between their bodies. Hermann lets his magic flow through his arms and back before gently lifting Newt again. With a dismissive glare towards Chau, Hermann lifts off the ground and speeds out of the abandoned station. He zips past the police that are descending the static escalators. Newt tightens his grip when he hears the shouting from the officers. Hermann extends his aura, shielding them from anything the police might fire their way. He will not let his guard down again. Not if it means Newt will get hurt.

Hermann doesn’t know if Newt has a proper first aid kit at his apartment, so he decides they’ll go to his place. It’s a risk, but he feels that after tonight, he and Newt will have nothing left to hide from each other. The shorter man starts shivering again as they arc through the sky. Hermann can’t tell if it's from his light clothing or if he’s going into shock from the bullet wound. Either way, they need to get inside as soon as possible.

It could be days later when Newt wakes to find himself in an unfamiliar bed. In his apartment, he has a full-size mattress that is slowly disintegrating from the center. His sheets are scratchy and second hand. These feel like silk compared to his.

The pain in his shoulder asserts itself as Newt sits up. He’s not wearing his glasses, so he can’t make out most of the room he’s in. There seems to be a light on in the corner and either a lumpy stack of pillows or his host sitting in a chair reading beside it.

Newt’s suspicions are confirmed as he hears a book shut and a body shift out of the chair. He lets himself fall back into the sea of pillows. A slight weight presses down on the bed, and a hand brushes against his cheek.

‘You’re finally awake.’

‘Been a rough day.’ Newt paused. ‘Days? Help me out here, Herms. How long have I been out?’

‘Approximately 35 hours?’ Hermann responds. He shifts and grabs something from the nightstand. ‘May I?’

It takes Newt a second to realize Hermann probably has his glasses before he nods. He closes his eyes as Hermann slides the frames back onto his face. He feels the lingering caress of Hermann’s fingertips at his temples before he opens his eyes.

Hermann’s expression is warm as Newt gets his bearings.

‘Hi.’ Newt says, suddenly shy. He feels his cheeks redden under Hermann’s caring expression.

‘Hello.’ Hermann inches closer before continuing. ‘You slept consistently after I cleaned and sewed up your bullet wound. I took care to make sure your tattoos wouldn’t be misaligned.’

‘Shit.’ Newt touched his bad shoulder. ‘I didn’t even think of that.’

‘Good thing you have me, then, isn’t it?’

Newt flinches. ‘I’m not sure that I’m worthy of that, Herms.’ He averts his gaze and feels the prickle of tears. ‘Shit, I think the last couple days proved I’m definitely not.’

Hermann rolls his eyes and moves over the bed. He winces a bit at the pressure he puts on his bad leg, but he can endure a little discomfort.

‘Listen to me.’ Hermann starts. He runs his hand through Newt’s hair, tracing his fingers down his neck, across his throat, and under his chin. Newt’s eyes flicker up to meet Hermann’s. ‘I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t angry or hurt when you told me what had been asked of you. However, you did tell me. You didn’t have to say anything, but you did. Do not ever say that you are unworthy of me.’

Newt sniffles and his mouth goes all wobbly again.

Hermann smiles again before shifting to move under the covers and sit beside Newt. The smaller man leans into him, grasping at Hermann’s t-shirt and tucking his head into Hermann’s shoulder. The magician rests his cheek in Newt’s hair.

‘Does it hurt terribly?’

Newt flinches again as he shakes his head no. ‘It hurts, but it’s kind of a dull ache.’

‘Then the pain killer is working.’ Hermann says. ‘Good. Your cheek should be healed in a few days. There didn’t appear to be any broken bones when we arrived.’

Newt snuffles deeper into Hermann, his voice growing thick with exhaustion. ‘Were you a doctor or something?’

‘Before my accident, yes.’ He says as he tucks further into Newt’s hair. ‘But we have plenty of time to discuss all that. Rest now. I’ll be here when you wake.’

‘Thanks, Herms.’ Newt mutters into Hermann’s neck as he begins to fade. ‘For everything.’

Hermann smiles and presses a light kiss to Newt’s hair before snapping his fingers and turning off the reading lamp.

#pacific rim fan fiction #pacific rim #newton geiszler #hermann gottlieb #hannibal chau #newmann #super hero au #unfinished fic #fic amnesty

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katsukikitten · 3 years

Text

Hello friends! Here is my contribution to the Bakugou Birthday Bash! The master link will be linked here ! Please enjoy my bit of an angsty fic! And all of the other art and works that are on the master list! Enjoy the big bakugou blow out and remember to leave a comment on your favorite pieces! Happy birthday ya shitty man! (Lowkey become 3d please)

Warning: he's 28 btw 😂 (my fic says so also)

It shouldn't be this fucking hard to get groceries and booze. It's a quick and easy errand. Everything already pre-ordered for an important birthday that just needed to be picked up. And yet here you were crying in your car trying to get it together before the attendant asked for the order name. Honestly you had texted out "I can't do this today. Sorry." Several times before deleting it, telling yourself not to hit send. But you would have to be having the worst mental day of your life wouldn't you? Today of all days, how fucking selfish of you.

Especially with the amount of time and effort you and Kirishima had put into this idea. Since New Year's actually, months and months of planning after the two of you had gotten shit faced at Denki and Mina's new years party, creating the brain child. All after bonding over switching patrol partners six months before, you had gotten Bakugou and he had gotten Ashido. Kirishima and yourself giggle over stupid things to the side of the party, people watching as you took shots. Kirishima points towards a normally grumpy blonde.

"Wow I think he's actually having fun." You snort, as you watch Bakugou hide his rare cat smile behind a sip of his beer as Mina makes Denki the butt of a joke.

"He actually loves parties. He never says it so people just think he's a wet blanket." Kirishima laughs, pouring the two of you another shot. Bakugou lets out a particularly loud laugh after 'Dunce Face' proves Mina's point. I guess that would be the time that it started.

When you started to fall. His laugh makes your cheeks deepen in hue and burn, to want to hear it again, to watch it again and learn all of the other sides of your patrol partner that he obviously only reserved for his closest friends.

"Let's throw him a great birthday party." You say, holding up your shot as a devilish smile spreads over sharp teeth. The mountainous man clinks your shot glass before he adds.

"Let's." In unison the two of you down the burning liquid as the plan comes into fruition.

Four months, four months and nineteen days of you thinking of nothing but your patrol partner with whom you got extremely close with since New Year's. So why? Why today of all days were you struggling? Why would normal everyday tasks feel more as if you were wading through mud than the breeze they should have been? You flip down the visor, looking yourself in the eye through little square mirror as you grit your teeth hissing

"Get your shit together."

Your little pep talk helps you get the several cakes and the cart full of booze that everyone requested, planning to make this the best birthday ever. Helping Kirishima set his house up with decorations, setting out the snacks, catering and even pouring some drinks as guests began to arrive to set down their gifts and help with the last minute touches before hiding. Masking through the pit in your stomach as you smiled at all of your friends as they poured in through Kirishima's door. Through the weighted emptiness you felt as each one wrapped you into a tight hug, already praising you and Kirishima for the amazing effort, that Bakugou would be so surprised when it was more than just you and Kirishima here. . Finally you had to go and get the guest of honor just before sundown to catch him before he went to bed. A much needed breather from the constant smiling and forcing a laugh that everyone thought sounded genuine.

Enjoying the silence of the evening train as it pulled you across town to the unsuspecting blonde. And maybe you could have made it through the night from your shitty pep talk or at least through getting the freshly 28 year old to his party but instead you catch your reflection in the window. Your facial features weighted with exhaustion, shoulders hunched allowing your body to continue to produce cortisol. Tears prick your eyes as you deep low, too low. Remembering everything and nothing all at once, steeping in guilt as you beg yourself for just a few more hours. That the depression episode can happen when you're home and alone, after the party goes off without a hitch. Tears fall anyway and they do all the way to Bakugou's until you finally get enough control to step out of yourself for a moment. Ringing the doorbell several times as a smile is plastered on your face, the door swings open. Bakugou's eyes narrow as they take you in, he notices that something is off. Your smile is a little too wide, your eyes rimmed red but he says nothing about it. Instead he lets his initial anger come forth.

"Oi! I told you to fuckin' text me when you were on the train so I could meet you at the station!" He growls, slamming his door shut and pocketing his keys. Deadly and sweaty hands deep in the pockets of his leather jacket as his palms itch to hold onto something else. Garnet eyes track your own hands as you reach over your head stretching.

"Yea yea, I hear you Dad." You tease giving him a look, "I still made it okay."

"Kirishima should have come instead of you that fuckin hair for brains." He snarls keeping pace with you as he always does on patrol.

"I know Dad must be sad cause his favorite didn't come to pick him up." You try not to sound dejected, nudging him in the ribs to distract from the crack in your voice, "Happy birthday ya big lug."

Bakugou cuts you a glare, mind racing before his barks out a "Thanks."

Comfortable silence stretches between the two of you before you two hit the train station, passing a corner store.

"Was shitty hair burning dinner? Do I need to stop for back up?" His thumb hooks over his shoulder towards the neon as he stands idle waiting for you to jog your memory. Kirishima had burned the last friend's dinner making Bakugou so angry he walked six blocks to make something that was 'FUCKIN EDIBLE!' while you tried to air out his apartment. You laugh loudly, genuinely for the first time that day causing Bakugou's shoulders to sag with relief. In the ten months he had been working with you he had only seen you faking a smile or laugh once or twice. Then the time after that you were absent from work the next day or two forcing him to patrol with Denki but worse yet...making him worry.

"Guess I'll grab something just in case." He gave you his back so you wouldn't see his face or the faint blush that dusted his cheeks.

"No, no! I ordered out this time. From that famous chef you like." Bakugou glares your way, digging in his back pocket for his wallet.

"How much." He demands through gritted teeth while you show him the palms of your hands in surrender.

"Woah woah! It's your birthday gift! You can't pay me back for dinner! I'd sooner burn the money before I'd accept it from you!" Your watch dings with a message from Kirishima asking for an ETA. You grab onto Bakugou's hand pulling him along into a run as you shout over your shoulder.

"We're gonna be late!"

Oh how Bakugou wished you hadn't done that, he was already struggling to keep his heart beat even when you were around and now to grab onto him. To pull him along in a hurry like those cheesy insta posts that couples did on their "grand adventure" together. He swallows the lump in his throat as he reminds himself that you are nothing more than his patrol partner. His friend at best.

Even though the train was mostly empty Bakugou stood closely by you, as he always did when the two of you were in a crowded space. He had seen how most men took advantage of the situation and he hated the idea of that happening to you although he knew you were more than capable of handling it on your own. Hell you could kick even his ass but he would die before ever admitting that. Instead he watches you talk about what you ordered for dinner and how you got the cake from that bakery Sato works part time at, the same one he got your birthday cake from but he doesn't hear a word. Instead all he can see is the golden light from the setting sun worshiping you. Kissing your skin to make it glow, giving your eyes a hue that makes his heart fall into his stomach and illuminating you in a true light. A radiant ethereal thing is what you were and Bakugou was just lucky enough to be standing by you. So out of it he doesn't realize the two of you are at your stop.

"Uh Suki?" Your voice is soft paired with the setting sun has him acting weird. He leans closer to you, pulled by some invisible force before he stops himself as he watches you look up at him beneath long lashes.

"You okay?" You ask almost nervously from his proximity, the smell of spice and caramel wrap around you making you feel warm and fuzzy. Temporarily making you forget that you were trying to act on the train, making you relax as you just talked to Bakugou. He sucks his teeth as he picks up your bag to sling over his shoulder.

"Yea but you were gonna forget your whole damn purse like you always do." He huffs, this time he was the one pulling at your hand in a rush before the doors closed to trap you two on the train. His hand feels warm in yours, his grip tight as he drags you along before pulling you within his sight, another habit of his you happened to notice. Almost reluctantly he lets go of you hand as Kirishima's house comes into view.

"We better have a good time tonight patrol Princess or you owe me a special birthday gift." He laughs causing you to roll your eyes at his stupid nickname that stuck after your first day with him, adamant that the two of you take your route instead of his it was a huge argument. But it was a good thing he listened to the "princess", it put the two of you smack dab in the middle of a robbery. You stick out your tongue.

"Trust me. You're gonna have a good time!" You push him up the steps as he bats away your hands. Opening the front door before everyone jumps out of various and bad hiding spots.

"SURPRISE!!" All of the alumni of class A and some of B shout, a select few already slurring their words. Bakugou's scowl turns into a smirk before he looks over his shoulder at you.

"Aw you did this to me?" His voice is teasing but his eyes almost sparkle, you nod encouraging him to go deeper into the party. As he does people flock to him laughing and yelling out happy birthday until he's sick of hearing it. All the while your smile wanes with the night. Until an hour in that heavy episode hits you full force. Numbness setting in where happiness should be, rotting as it turns to shame and guilt as you watch your friend, your crush, enjoy his night. Bringing a glass bottle to his lips as he talks with Kirishima, who then presses a shot into his hands. Bodies dancing to the house music that beat out of the speakers competing with chatter and laughter.

It felt weird to watch everyone truly enjoying themselves while you felt low. It felt more as if you were standing outside of the house, looking in through the window to see everyone enjoying themselves, no one even knowing who you were as you stared in.

You felt distant, alone. What a shitty way to feel in a room full of people, none of it being their fault and so the guilt pressed harder. Eyes watering as they lingered on the blonde who deserved this celebration and more. Making you decide to give the best birthday gift of them all.

To slip away upstairs and onto the roof, to give the room space to breathe when you felt like suffocating.

Crying to no one but the moon.

And no one noticed. Two hours slip by before Kirishima insists that Bakugou make a wish and eat cake before everyone gets too drunk too. The entire house drunkenly sings happy birthday but Bakugou notices a voice missing. Yours that's just a touch off key, not to mention he didn't hear you say the stupid nickname 'Suki' where his name should be in the song. Plus you weren't one to miss out on dessert. For as long as Bakugou has been working with you, you never turned down the opportunity for sweets. Whether that was taking the long way back to the agency to try to catch a certain street vendor or to hover by the deserts at a party to pick the very best treat.

And if it was a birthday party, you never could shut up that y'all could not leave until after they blew out the candles and made a wish.

His eyes linger for a second longer, making sure he didn't miss you before his heart sinks. He takes in a sharp inhale, thinks on his wish and blows out the candles.

Meanwhile you hear the cheers of everyone down stairs and sob into your knees. You missed your favorite part of birthdays. Of hoping they make a wish that comes true, of watching their face as they think of something quickly or how some people tear up when they finally realize just how loved they are on their birthday.

It isn't long after that do you hear the sound of combat boots on shingles. Whipping your head up in the direction of the sound. Stomach clenching with guilt as you watch Bakugou walking towards you with a slice of cake.

"Brought ya some cake, since I didn't hear you sing off key to me." He says sinking down beside you as you furiously wipe at your tears.

"I'm-um."

"You don't gotta explain yourself to me." He snarls as you stare dumbly at your cake, "You know that."

"I know…" Silence passes slowly, the moon shines overhead and the party carries on below.

"Well, I'm waiting!" Bakugou says dramatically, "You gonna sing or am I gonna have to sing to myself?"

"Oh." It makes you giggle a bit before you blush, realizing he is serious. You take a deep breath before singing "just off key" when you don't, to him.

"Sukiiiiii!" Relief washes over his features when he hears the dumb ass name, "Happy birthday to youuuuuu!"

"Okay, now you can eat the damn cake." He grunts, his smile never wavering as he looks to the empty street below. You follow his eyes, chewing the inside of your lip, setting the cake down.

"What'd you wish for…" Curiosity gets the better of you and earns his intense gaze. He smirks, scoffing at the end.

"You always say you shouldn't tell or it won't come true." He laughs at your pout, before he finally admits "I wished for courage."

With a furrowed brow you give him a puzzled look, he just holds your gaze.

"Why? You're like the bravest hero I know!" Bakugou can hear the truth in your voice, you aren't saying it just to fucking stroke his ego.

You actually meant it, making this conversation that much harder.

"Yea except when it comes to this one thing I want to do. Its fuckin easy and I've done it hundreds of times just as I'm about to do it I fucking back down cause I'm probably fuckin reading into things too much." He leans in closer, again his smell mesmerizes you, causing your body to visibly relax, "Too much of a fuckin bitch, thinking she doesn't want me like I want her. So I wished for the courage to follow through. To fuckin' just do it."

Your heart is racing out of your chest before one of his hands finds the nape of your neck pulling you into a feverish kiss. Teeth gnashing from the passion, lips perfectly modeling to the other before tongues lightly dance around one another. Lengthening seconds into hours with just a few head tilts and plush lips. You moan into his mouth, he pulls away, eyes clouded with lust as a string of spit connects your tongues. He pants, face flushed and his hand warm, almost burning at the nape of your neck, the shingle by his hand charred from restraint as he pants out.

"I wished for you."

#bakugou x reader #bakugou birthday bash #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bnha au #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo #bnha imagine #bakugou birthday

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comfyswitcherblanketfort · 3 years

Text

My Darling Cat Roommate

lmao this isn’t lambden, as the title may suggest. sorry folks

@stinastar hit me with some feels over and modern roommate au where Geralt just doesn’t know what to do to make Jask feel better and this happened.

Warnings: We go into some Seasonal Affective Depression stuff here so like be careful with that if it triggers you, jask beats himself up a little, mentioning feeling numb at things that usually bring him joy, i swear in this one. I haven’t changed, dont worry lol

_______________________

Jaskier trudged home from work on Friday, exhausted but relieved he had the next week off. He wolfed down the leftovers Geralt had heated up for him and almost fell asleep on the couch before Geralt hauled him up and walked him into his room, where he promptly fell asleep on top of his duvet in jeans and his shoes. Sometime around when early morning coffee workers were getting up he undressed and snuggled under the warm blankets.

When he woke to Geralt making a smoothie he was prepared to launch into a full ‘morning people’ rant, only to check his phone and realize it was 2pm. So, maybe he’d needed rest.

It was still grey enough out that he shrugged and went back to sleep.

When he woke up again it was dark and the TV was going. He wrapped up in his comforter rather than putting on sweats and shuffled out to the kitchen only because his stomach growled when he tried to roll over.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty!” Geralt called over his shoulder as he floated past with the pasta he’d left in the microwave.

Jaskier just grunted a small “Thanks,” before he disappeared back into his room. He scrolled through various apps as he ate and rolled back into bed.

He might have fallen asleep, he might not, but he certainly didn’t get out of bed until his bladder absolutely demanded it on Sunday morning.

Geralt intercepted him in the hallway before he could make it back to his room, “You feeling okay?”

“Hm? Why?” Jaskier took a moment to respond, staring at Geralt like he’d grown a second head. He knew his hair was probably greasy but he couldn’t look that bad.

“You slept all day yesterday.” Geralt looked like he was diffusing a bomb rather than talk to his roommate, “Did something happen at work?”

Jaskier just shrugged, “I’m just tired.” And a little numb.

Geralt nodded, “I’m headed to the store. You sure you don’t want me to pick anything up for you?”

“I’m okay, Geralt…” he sighed, slipping past his brick wall of a roommate to slink beneath his blankets once again and make himself as small as possible.

It was late January and the Seasonal Affective Depression was in full swing. He should have bought that fucking happy light when it was on sale. Should have bought the Vitamin D tablets he saw last week. Should have let Geralt drag him to the gym a little more when he felt the initial dip. Should have blah blah blah. He thought over every little thing he knew would have helped that he just hadn’t done and sighed, pulling his blankets tighter around him. He knew he wasn’t going to do any of it until it got bad enough that his hair would stick to his forehead once he hit this point. Might as well hurry it along so it could be over with.

Geralt knocked on his door, snapping him out of his mini spiral. He hummed, not even bothering to turn over until he heard the rattle of the doorknob.

“I know you didn’t want anything, but… uh. I was in the bulk section. Got you the peach things.” Geralt’s voice was lower and softer than usual as he raised the frankly massive bag of peach rings for emphasis before he set them on Jaskier’s desk.

“Than-” Jaskier coughed when his voice came out raspy and broken, “Thank you.”

Geralt leaned against the doorframe for a moment, a curious frown on his face, “Bake Off is on in an hour if you wanna watch it.”

Jask forced a smile and shrugged, “We’ll see.”

Geralt pursed his lips and nodded, pausing a moment before pushing off the doorframe, “Okay.”

Jaskier stared at the peach rings for a while after Geralt closed the door. Eventually he compromised with his brain and rolled out of bed onto his knees, waddling a couple of steps until he could reach the rings then launch back to bed.

Normally he would have almost cried with happiness that Geralt had gotten his favorite treat. He loved it when Geralt did little things for him or thought of him enough to give him something, but he felt rather indifferent as he shoved the twentieth peach ring in his mouth.

Without warning his door opened just enough for a plate to appear and be gently set on his desk.

Geralt muttered, “For the sugar high…” before his hand disappeared and the door once again shut.

Jaskier almost smiled when he saw the neatly arranged concentric circles of Totinos Pizza Rolls on the plate. He got to his feet to fetch them this time.

Around ten that night there was another knock at his door that pulled him from an hour long scroll through tiktok.

“Jask?”

“Yeah?”

Geralt held a big grey bundle in his arms, “Do you- Uh. I thought- weighted blanket?” He held his arms out with a hesitant smile.

Jaskier sat up, “But don’t you use it to sleep?”

Geralt shrugged, unfolding the bean-filled blanket and laying it over Jaskier’s legs, “I’ll be fine.”

Jaskier stared at the ceiling for a while after he left, confused by Geralt’s suddenly attentive behavior. He would have expected the grouchy man to enjoy the silence that came with his bad days. For how much Geralt complained about his loud music, he certainly wasn’t expecting gifts.

Geralt left a note in the kitchen Monday morning saying he’d made Jaskier a breakfast sandwich with instructions on how to warm it up without it turning soggy. Jaskier stood in front of the panini press reading and rereading the note as he heated his breakfast like it was in Old English. He ate at the kitchen table this time, annoyed with the crumbs in his bed, and counted up all the little gifts he’d been brought. He could come to only one conclusion.

Geralt was part cat.

He’d stopped functioning and Geralt kept bringing him mice.

He smirked and sent him a quick text, “Thanks for the breakfast. 👌 V good.”

After breakfast, he decided maybe he could change his pajamas, but he stayed tucked under Geralt’s weighted blanket for most of the day. Every now and then Geralt would text him something stupid Eskel or Lambert did, or a meme he found on his break, and every time Jaskier would grin and send back an emoji. Words were out of reach but Geralt frequently only communicated in emojis and one-word sentences. He should get the message.

Jaskier fell asleep around two, really asleep not just the fitful light sleep he’d been having the last couple of days. He was rousted from a dream about a talking panini press by Geralt tripping over a pile of laundry and softly swearing as he tried to right himself without crashing into the bed or Jaskier’s lute.

“Geralt? Darling, what are you doing?”

Geralt finally caught himself and nearly blinded Jaskier with a smile as he straightened up, “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

Jaskier sat up and scratched at his hair, “Yes, but doing what?”

“Oh! Yeah. Uh. I-” Geralt, still grinning, pointed to a small fern in a bright orange clay pot sitting on his windowsill.

“You got me a plant?”

Geralt was practically beaming when Jaskier glanced back at him.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re a cat?”

Geralt snorted, sitting down on the edge of the bed, “You’re feeling better?”

Jaskier tilted his head, “I think so? What makes you say that?”

“You called me ‘Darling’.”

A hesitant smile crept on Jaskier’s face. There was an echo of the usual all-consuming warmth spreading in his chest that he usually felt when Geralt smiled at him. He may indeed be feeling a bit better. Come to think of it he actually wanted to shower.

“I taped Bake Off. If you’re feeling up for a trek to the couch,” Geralt offered, forced nonchalance dripping from every word.

Jask nodded, “Let me shower, then we can finish off the peach rings.”

Geralt’s smile nearly stopped his heart, a sure sign he was nearing the land of the living again, “I got lasagna on the way home too,” he chirped as he jumped up and made his way to the door.

“Hey, Darling?” It felt a little forced and goofy saying the pet name like that, but Jaskier just couldn’t help himself, “Thank you.”

Geralt’s smile softened, “Anytime.”

#listen yall idk who im projecting on more with this one #but the feels are strong and i yearn #geraskier #geraskier roommates #geraskier roommates au #roommates au #the witcher #the witcher modern au #the witcher roommates au #geralt of rivia #jaskier #seasonal affective disorder #seasonal affective depression #cw SAD #depression #thems some heavy tags for something meant to be fluff #that kinda just hits the nail on the head for the fandom tho yeah?#lol #soft geraskier

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pompadourpink · 3 years

Note

hey mom this might be a bit heavy and long, sorry!

how do you live past your mental illness? i graduated after having been convinced i wouldnt make it for years. now im in college and its hard to actually imagine a real future for myself, or even feel motivated for it, yanno? ive been studying french for like 5 years and im still in intermediate/beginner purgatory, so self studying isnt going well either. i guess, how do i set goals and stick to/feel accomplished by them? i dont think i ever learned how

thanks!!!

Hello dear,

I had chronic depression for more than a decade and thought from the bottom of my heart that I would never survive it or beat it and I did, so I have loads to say.

The stuff that torments you most likely exists only inside your head - as in, no one else thinks that. It sounds stupid but it is not: if someone tells you that you're bright, if someone likes you, if someone trusts you with something, don't tell them or think that they are wrong. They made their decision and stand by it. In high school, I convinced myself that I was unlovable, ignored/pushed away anyone who liked me, then spent years complaining about being completely lonely and miserable, and that was entirely my doing. I could have been happy, and I wasn't. Trust others and allow them in your circle, even if your brain tells you it's a scam. It's not. Don't make yourself sadder than you already are.

Rebrand. I used to see myself as a plate that had been thrown on the floor many times and kept being broken into smaller and smaller pieces, which made it harder and harder to reconstruct fully. I also used to picture my depression as some type of vicious little demon that was riding on my back, biting and wounding my shoulders with its sharp teeth and long claws, and taking all the pleasure in the world in never letting me have one moment of peace. After making many changes in my life (cutting ties, better people, therapy, prioritising myself), I began seeing my wounds as bruises that would eventually heal, and, more importantly, after watching The seventh seal, I started picturing depression/Death as No-face from Spirited away: massive, a bit creepy, silent, always by my side, but not evil, not malicious, just there. After a while, it felt like a reassuring presence who had been standing next to me faithfully for most of my life, and when I beat depression, my oldest friend waved and went away. So long, my dear, until we meet again!

Obviously, get a therapist if you can afford one, but even if you can, talk to as many people as you can and read a lot, especially about psychology and psychiatry. I started feeling better in 2018 and beat depression in March 2020, ironically, because everyone on social media started getting symptoms of depression (feeling like crap, gaining weight, having issues with hygiene, etc.) which no one normally talked about, and I realised I wasn't broken, I just had been having a normal reaction to an abnormal situation. Hear as many points of view as you can so you can make an educated decision.

When it comes to the future, think of what you've loved your entire life. When I think of my current life, everything I have has been carried since childhood. Don't study for a particular job, but work for a particular life. Identify what makes you happy, what you are good at, what you love, and focus on that stuff and that stuff only. Become excellent at those things, and find a way to make a living out of it - you don't have to follow the regular path, everything is temporary anyway, and what matters is that you're happy. That's it.

When it comes to goals, the first step is to find out what meaning you want to give to your life: two questions here, the first being what is my greater purpose? And the other what is my biggest personal goal? The second step is to declutter. And I don't mean declutter your wardrobe - declutter everything. Your house, head, diet, relationships, beliefs, habits; anything that doesn't serve you, brings you closer to your main goal or purpose, makes you miserable, has to go. The third step is to question constantly why you want to do things: do you actually (why?), or are you trying to impress someone, or to reach another person's dream? If you can't manage to do something, either you need to cut it into smaller pieces and treat yourself after reaching each milestone, or admit that you don't actually want to do it. In the case of French, check out my Google drive and read Goosebumps, or tweets, or sing along karaoke on Youtube. Make it fun, easy, frequent but short, and be nicer to yourself.

Love and power,

Mum

#ask #malks

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lindsayrises · 3 years

Text

Oh.

My.

God.

I have never felt more seen.

I was diagnosed with ADHD in December 2019.

I've been on medication for it since then.

Yesterday, after a week of being ridiculously unproductive at work, I was desperate for any tips or strategies to get more done.

I found a podcast on ADHD. I listened to 2 episodes while driving/running errands.

Oh.

My.

Fucking.

God.

I was nearly in tears.

EVERYTHING that was said is me.

I have FOREVER been cruel to myself, telling myself (and believing) I do (or don't do) things because:

*I'm lazy.

I'm stupid.

I'm unmotivated.

I'm not dedicated enough.

I must not care enough.

I lack will power.

*I never follow through with things/am unable to follow through with things. (I am particularly sensitive about this one. Something was said to me about this literally YEARS ago and I still get an uncomfortable feeling thinking about it and get emotional talking about it. I can think of 2 other instances where comments have been made to me about this - one recently, one years ago. I am SOOOOOOOOOOO insecure about this.)

(*these 2 are frequent topics in therapy.)

Seriously. Then when I struggle to get things things done, I beat myself up and feel like a huge failure. Rinse and repeat.

I always just thought, "I guess the medication must be working...maybe???". I never considered that there could be a change/improvement BECAUSE I THOUGHT "THIS IS JUST WHO I AM...I'll be like this forever. Past behavior habits prove it. It's hopeless. I'm hopeless to even work on. I'll never change."

I cannot tell how many things I've tried to do better...to be better. I have shelves of books I've bought - thinking, "maybe this one will help!". I can think of exactly 3 books that I've actually finished. Yes. Three. Planners and calendars? I buy a new one at least every 6 months. I use it for a few days and then stop.

It had gotten to the point where I thought, "Why bother even trying? Nothing sticks. Nothing works. And then I feel shitty for failing yet again."

I can't count how many times in the past 3 months I've thought, "Why do I even keep trying? I must not want to change badly enough. There is just something wrong with me. I'm done trying. This is me. This is my life. Deal with it."

So, I'm not (insert all of those negative things and more that I didn't list)??? It's just my fucking brain?

I actually feel hopeful...that maybe things don't have to be like this.

I would like to note that, no, I do not use podcasts and internet things as medical advice.

But wow. It all makes sense now...

Impulsivity (food and shopping)

Forgetfulness

Hyperfocusing

Easily distracted

Difficulty getting started

Feeling paralyzed because I'm overwhelmed

Rejection sensitivity

Noise sensitivity

Difficulty with grocery shopping, meal planning, meal prep, basically any part of the cooking proxy.

HAVING AMAZING PLANS THAT I'M REALLY EXCITED ABOUT BUT ABANDON SHORTLY AFTER STARTING (I'm looking at you, millions of "get healthy" plans and attempts). *****I cannot emphasize this one enough.

I have frequently thought, "I have so much I need to work on and improve about myself. Where do I even start?" and beat myself up about this, too.

I will sit in my classroom...terrified that someone will come in at any minute and see that I'm not working on something... haven't been working on anything...am close to tears because I'm so angry, frustrated, ashamed, and embarrassed because of this.

It.

All.

Makes.

Sense.

Yes, I will talk to my doctor.

But wow. How did I not realize that all of these things are connected??? Would/Could my anxiety and depression get (a little) better if ADHD was less of an issue?

This whole time I've been thinking that these things that I struggle with are because there is something seriously wrong with me...that these things make me a bad person and leave me constantly hustling for worthiness. But there's an explanation for ALL OF IT? And things don't have to stay this way - things don't have to be and won't always be so hard and miserable?!?!?!

Thank God.

Edit: I have to laugh. I've been up since 3:00 am. It is 6:00 and I'm just getting ready to go to work. What have I been doing the last 3 hours? Writing this. Reading about ADHD. Coming back to this and adding something new I just thought about/made a connection to, going to do something, coming back and adding something else to this, start and stop at least 5 different songs or podcasts on Spotify, and repeat. Oh, and mindless scrolling/checking of FB/IG/Tumblr. And looking at the clock - if it's 4:41 saying, "ok I'll get off my phone/stop doing what I'm doing at 4:45.". Loses track of time. Checks time. "Oh, now it's 4:47. I might as well just wait until 5:00.". This is me all the fucking time. I know it's illogical, but this is my life.

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91percentpynch · 3 years

Text

if the world was ending - kevaaron au pt 6

we‘re slowly getting our happy ending i think? anyways shout out to the guys who sticked around ever since part one and encouraged me to publish the parts!! hope you enjoy this one as well! stay hydrated, eat something, feel hugged (or take a finger heart if you don‘t like physical contact) and know that i love you!! also this one‘s out of aaron‘s pov!!

the song of this part is if the world was ending by julia michaels and jp saxe

check this out for part 1-5

Aaron only planned to get to his dealer that night, just wanted the voices to stop, just wanted the feeling of numbness again

What he didn‘t want was landing in the hospital, but when did anything ever work out the way he wanted?

So when he was on the way to his dealer, tears clouding his vision, he didn‘t see the stop sign. He didn‘t notice the truck. And that was how a truck landed in the passenger side of his car, Aaron losing consciousness and somehow waking up in the ER of Chicago Hospital

„We called your emergency contact, they said they would come as soon as possible honey“, a nurse told him.

What they apparently did not know was that his emergency contact was Nicky, who left him for Germany.

Aaron wasn‘t mad. He got it. Nicky gave up so much for him and Andrew, never getting the love he deserved, he did his best.

Plus Nicky would probably call Andrew his way so he wasn‘t alone until he got the first possible flight to sit by his side for a few days before returning to his picture book perfect family.

Aaron wasn‘t mad. He really wasn‘t. He just missed his cousin. The only constant in his life, the only good part in his family.

Having a twin brother is pretty nice as well - in theory as well. Until said twin brother refuses to talk to you. Until said twin brother chooses his stupid boyfriend over you. Until you realize said twin brother doesn‘t care about you.

But Aaron couldn‘t blame him. He wasn‘t interesting enough for anyone to care about.

Aaron slipped in and out of consciousness

„I can‘t get morphime, I‘m an addict“, he said in one of his moments of consciousness. Not that he would particulary mind getting morphime, he wanted to get high after all, but Kevin‘s stupid little voice wouldn‘t let him go. „Why do you only call me when you‘re high Aaron?“, Kevin‘s face when he came to see him earlier, the day they decided to go to rehab together as friends and it ended up as them falling in love

„That‘s alright honey, we got you“, the nurse replied.

The next time Aaron woke up after that was in a white room, alone in an uncomfortable bed. Alone with his thoughts because Nicky wouldn‘t be here for at least another day. His brother was somewhere with Josten. The only person he really wanted to see refused to talk to him. Which is understandable to be fair.

Taylor, fuck he needed to tell her where he was.

Aaron was just about to look for his phone when someone kicked his door open, hurriedly crossing the room to be close to him.

Slowly Aaron raised his eyes, looking who it was. Kevin fucking Day was in his fucking room.

„You fucking idiot, what have you done?“, Kevin was close to tears, for whatever reason. Obviously not for Aaron, right?

„I don‘t need your fucking pity“, Aaron replied, shutting himself down, it was safer that way.

„Did you tell them you can‘t have morphine? Because you might relapse, i mean you already did but we don‘t want it to get worse. And this is not pity, this is Nicky yelling at me in Spanish cause you‘re in the hospital and he‘s in Germany and I‘m the closest to you and he does not want his son to be alone“, Day ever so unimpressed by Aaron‘s walls replied.

Nicky worrying about Aaron that much made the blonde feel warm inside, important, loved.

Nonetheless Aaron couldn‘t stop thinking about the person that didn‘t care to show up.

„Andrew didn‘t care to come, did he?“, Aaron‘s voice was barely audible as he hid his face in his pillow, in case those traitous tears made their way down his cheeks.

„Andrw does care about you, he‘s just shit at showing it, that fucking asshole“, Kevin replied in a soft voice, Irish accent slightly audible, the voice he used when he‘s about to be emotional or scared or mad or overall feeling strongly. „C‘mon what have you done Minyard?“

Was that worry in his voice? Could it be that he actually cared? No, no that couldn‘t be. Not when refused to talk to him.

„Car accident, not that its any of your fucking business“, Aaron replied, trying his hardest to sound as if he didn‘t care that Kevin was there with him, trying to push Kevin away, to protect his heart from another rejection.

„How are you?“, Kevin said, his Irish accent becoming a little stronger, voice thick with worry. Worry? Why would he worry about Aaron?

„Fucking great, I should let a truck drive into me more often. Very freeing. Very calming“, Aaron answered sarcastically, looking anywhere but Kevin‘s smaragd green eyes, maybe even the green of the lake they used to go in rehab, in the fluroscent light of the hospital.

„A truck. Drove into you?“, the Irish accent was now so strong Aaron could barely make out the words.

Aaron couldn‘t take it anymore, he turned around. Maybe Kevin would take the hint that he wasn‘t able to be close to him, not without being hurt, not without feeling empty. „Not that you would care“, he said, voice barely more than a breath against the pillow.

„Aaron first of all I can see you naked ass and not that I wouldn‘t mind the view and I‘ve seen it often enough but the nurses don‘t have to see that too. And secondly of course I care. I always did. Always will“

Something about Kevin mentioning Aaron‘s naked ass made the blonde boy blush as he turned back towards Kevin. Aaron didn‘t even notice that those strangers undressed him. That made him feel slightly uncomfortable.

„Why wouldn‘t you listen to me if you care so much? You‘re exactly like like Andrew, you guys only ever care when I‘m about to die or do something that doesn‘t sit right with you. Never about me as a person. The conecept about me maybe, but me? Me as a person? No one cares about that“, Aaron replied to the earlier statement, because he wanted to hurt Kevin, wanted the other boy to leave him just like the rest, just like he deserved. Aaron didn‘t need empty promises and lies - God know he had enough of those in his miserable life. Aaron didn‘t need pity or words of comfort or kindness. Aaron didn‘t need Kevin Day. Unless he did.

„You are Aaron Minyard. Born on the 4th of November, 8:31:45 am. You grew up in California in the house next to Nicky. Nicky and you were always close and you didn‘t have many friends because of your mom. Your mom might have abused her and I might hate her for that but you still love her and I get that because on some fucked up level I still care about Riko. You are allergic to cats, peanuts and house dust. You have a freckle right on your right hip, under your navel, from under your left eye over to the nose to the corner of your right eye. You like it when you are hold when you can‘t sleep but you hate showing affection in public. You were 13 when you started exy, because it gave you an escape, but you had to stop because the bruises from your mother‘s beating got to obvious. So you started getting into medicine. You borrowed every single book on medicine you could find and read it at night, always hidden from your mom. You had to have straight As or the beatings would be worse. Your mom did go out to have ice cream with you when it was especially bad. That‘s why you hate ice cream so much, especially vanillia because it was her favourite. Your secret hobby is skating. You feel free when you do it. You want to live at the coast, but not close to Cali, never back to Cali. You want Andrew to notice you and you hate how easily he let Neil in because obviously deserve it more and I get that. You tried drugs to escape, to see what was the appeal. Your uncle never helped you but he brainwashed you into believing he did. You grew up very religous and in an extraordinary homophobic household, you watched your cousin and only friend getting shipped away because he was different, not right, so you confinced yourself you were different. Heterosexual. When in reality you knew since you were 15 that you preferred guys. You liked girls as well. At least you thought but it‘s so much more complicated. Actually it isn‘t. You‘re asexual, you do however like the feeling of sex. You think the process is disgusting, but you still like the feeling. It has to be the right person though. It doesn‘t matter wether it‘s a boy or a girl or something else entierly, all that matters are the feelings the person makes you feel. It took you years to accept that you are not wrong, that you wouldn‘t have to go away like Nicky. You apologized to Nicky. You thought you had to be against their relationships, because that‘s what they made you believe. Old habits die hard. But you got over it and I am very proud of you. You sleep with a teddybear or with another person that cuddles you because the thought of being alone scares the living crap out of you. Your favourite flowers are sunflowers because yellow is a happy color. You hate sweets, you prefer salty snacks. You prefer coffee black, like your sould. You use sarcasm and humor as your coping mechanism. You stole my history books because you love history as well. You also love art but you don‘t think you are good enought to become an artist. You would love to work at Jean‘s studio but you are afraid to ask. You and Jean used to be friends but you cut him off and isolated yourself because your anxities and insecurities took over you again. Sometimes you have depressive episodes, in these you crave drugs more than normally. You want to stop it, you really do but somehow your brain tries to tell you you need it. You would love to have five dogs. An Irish Red Setter, an Irish Wolfhound, a poodle a big one though, a labrador and a golden retriever. You also want to adopt at least two kids. You don‘t want any child to go through what you had to go through or Andrew. So don‘t you dare tell me I never cared for you. Because I do. I listen when you tell me things. I remember every single time you came to me, black out drunk, crying and telling me you‘re worthless. Because every single time I wanted to tell you you aren‘t. You are a wonderful human being and I don‘t understand why I wasn‘t enough for you to stay but I will not let you tell me I never cared about you. Because that‘s some fucking bullshit“

Whatever Aaron expected to happen it certainly wasn‘t that. No one ever payed attention to him. No one ever listened to what he had to say. No one ever showed him that they cared about him. No one ever payed enough attention to him to see that he was worth their attention.

„You really did listen“, Aaron said, quietly, not able to put his feelings into words.

Aaron Minyared was never good with words. Causing pain with them? Yes. Sarcastic comments? Sure. But declearations of love? Or a simple thank you? Or really anything that would fit this situation? No, Aaron couldn‘t do that.

„Why wasn‘t I enough for you?“, the voice with tears, words hidden behind the strong Irish accent, was what made Aaron look up. Looking up into eyes the color of the lake they used to go to in their summer spend in the rehab clinic, tears falling down his beautiful cheeks, uncontrollable and messy.

„You? Not enough?“, Aaron whispered, eyes locked with the taller boy, „I was not enough. I was never enough. Not for my mother. Not for Katelyn. And certainly not for the Queen of Exy. I was never a good enough player, I was never a good enough student, I was never a good enough person. You deserve the best. Someone that loves Exy the way you do, someone as passionate and beautiful and strong as you. Not a burden. Not a no one like me. You deserve the sun, things that are bright and warm and beautiful. Not some broken, poor trailer trash. Not some drug addicted wannabe doctor. Some who can give you the love you need. Not someone struggeling to accept themselves. Not someon who can‘t even look at themselves accepting that they fell heads over heels in love with a man, struggeling to accept that, thinking someone will come and beat the shit out of them because it‘s the only thing you know. I don‘t understand the yearning, I don‘t understand the wanting, I don‘t understand the pain your absence causes me. Because I was never loved. Not properly. I mean sure I know Nicky loves me, but that‘s different. You deserves someone who‘s not too fucked up to be able to show love, not someone so fucked up they don‘t even understand the concept of love. You deserve somoene who can give you things. I can‘t offer you anything. Nothing. Nothing but a heart screaming your name. Nothing but a mind you reign. And I am so fucking sorry I ever left you without saying goodbye. I am so fucking sorry for being a coward. It was never because I stopped loving you. In the contrast. It was because there was not a single day where I thought I was good enough for you. There was not a single day the little voice in my head would shut up about how you are way to fucking good for me. You deserve so much more than I can offer you. So much more“, Aaron‘s voice broke at the last more.

„This was never your choice to make. I am a grown up fucked up man, I can decide who I can and will love very good on my own and I know you never wanted to hear it. But I chose you. I‘ve been falling in love with you ever since I met you. Started with a cute little crush. Ended up here“, Kevin said coming closer and closer to Aaron. „You talk about being so fucked up, well guess what? So am I. I am sick and tired of being seen as the Queen of Exy, of being reduced to Exy and my past alcohol problem. It‘s like I am nothing but the stick in my hand. I am nothing but the sport my mother invented. I am not even a human being anymore. At least that was what I was told. Until I met you. You and your stupid sarcatic remarks. The thougt of you seeing me was enough for me to keep trying to impress you somehow, make you see something worth keeping. But it was never enough. It would never be enough for someone to stay“

„Kevin Day. Born on the 22nd February 1986. Excuse me I don‘t know the exact time but about 7:15 pm. Your favourite color is red, not the Ravens red, the deep dark red of the Trojans because you associate it with Jeremy Knox and he was some kind of fucking sun in the nest. You had something with Jean in the nest. Riko that absolute fucking asshole somehow found out and tried to force you to do terrible things to Jean. But you couldn‘t do it. Not because you are weak like you like to think, no because you are kind and have heart of gold. I can‘t believe I just said that I want to vomit. Eww. Anyways you have massive self-esteem issues because you either think you‘re a walking failure or you have a god complex and there is no fucking in between and I love that about you. You have a constellation of freckles on your back and a little tattoo on your left hip. It‘s a little sun and a little moon on the right. Because you love the sun because it‘s bright and warm and you like that. The moon is far away, it‘s cold and lonely. The sun is your mother. You are the moon. Over your heart you have your mother‘s signature tatooted. Because she watches over you and unlike mine you actually can associate nice things with her. You want to move to Ireland once you retire. Because you want to be closer to your mom. You have your whole ass wedding planned already, because you love planning events like that. It‘s like your fucking secret superpower. You think cows are adorable and you want to pet one so badly. You are scared of chickens and swans and ducks. You are lactose intolerant and you have sport indicated asthma. You don‘t like when other people touch your arms and your back. You like forhead kisses. You like holding hands. You like showing affection, but not in public because you‘re scared what people think of you. You pretend to be arrogant and an asshole but it‘s all just walls around yourself to protect you. Secretly you just want someone to see right through it. Unlike me you do actually paint and you love photography. I know you rented a secret little atelier. Your favourite historical period is the 20th centuriy and you are oddly obsessed with eastern european and Irish history. You love horses. You love cows. You want to do horse riding once. You try so very hard to be more than just Exy. Hyperfixations are your coping mechanism. And spontaniously buying like 10 books. You love reading. You love tea. Your favourite genere is in fact not historical fiction but fantasy fiction based on history. You love rambling about random historical facts and I loved listening to it. You love soft kisses more than the hungry ones. You hate that people want you for your body, not your personality. You hate being sexualized. You hate being an object. You hate your title. But at the same time you love it. You just want to make your mother proud. And your dad. Right now you‘re wearing your mother‘s ring around your neck. Wymack found it somewhere and gave it to you. You haven‘t put it down ever since. You want to paint your nails because you think it looks pretty but you worry too much what people would think about you. You listen to classical music. You play the violin and the piano. You learned it at Palmetto somehow. You learned it because your mother used to play the fiddle, said it made her think of Ireland somehow, and when you were sad she played you some Irish lullabies on it. You love the Irish culture. You love Ireland. And your biggest dream is to get married on one of Ireland‘s cliffs. Because the ocean calms you down. Helps your anxiety. In summer your face is covered in freckles and not only your face. Oddly. You actually love swimming. Or sitting at the water. Looking at it. You collect books. You collect stones. You collect whatever you think is beautiful. You also like collecting shells. You hate to label yourself but you always preferred boys. There are days where you feel more feminie, days where you feel more masculine and days where you feel like neither. Today is a masculine day I see. Jeremy made you braclets when you

told him you were like him. You feel terrible about leaving Jean back but you also know that it was necessary. You are strong and beautiful and I know you canno see that and I know you don‘t want to hear that. You are more than your body. You are so much more. And the only reason I was stupid enough to leave you was because I thought I was not good enough. And an unhealthy amount of internalized homophobia. I just hear my mother‘s voice inside my head when I hold your hand or kiss you and I hate that. The moment I had to sleep without you the voices grew louder and it didn‘t even take a week before I had to find a dealer. I called you when I was high because the voides were silent. I called you when I was high because admitting that I missed you and that I need you was easier than. The two to four hours I slept were filled with you. In my dreams you were with me. You kissed me. You held me in these ridicously strong hands. You were with me and the world was okay. And when I woke up and you weren‘t here I just didn‘t want to get up. My grades got worse because I wasn‘t able to concentrate without you. Yes I am able to funciton without you, it was just nice to have something good in my life once. And yes I will be able to keep it up without you. A B or C here and there won‘t hurt too much. I will probably be able to become the neurologist I want to be. I will get through life. It will just not be the same. It will just be grey and black and white. With you I had colors“

„That was hard for you to say right?“, Kevin asked, tears still silently running down his cheeks.

Aaron nooded, watching as Kevin‘s face came closer and closer until he could feel his breath against his cheeks.

He was about to ask someone as a loud knock was on the door and the door was opened rather aggressivly, making Kevin get away quickly.

#all for the game #the foxhole court #the raven king #the king’s men #jean moreau #jeremy knox #kevin day #aaron minyard #ship: jerejean #jerejean #ship: kevaaron #kevaaron

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iron--spider · 4 years

Text

you save everybody, but who saves you?

It’s been.

It’s been—

It hasn’t been long enough, because Tony’s brain is still scrambled, and his body is still broken. The scarring still crawls across his right side in smoky tendrils, and he doesn’t like anyone touching it, not even Pepper when they’re alone, not even Helen when she’s checking him out, not even Peter when he’s holding his hand. They still don’t know if he’ll lose the arm, and they talk about that in hushed tones behind his back, like he can’t handle it, like they know he can’t handle it.

What can he fucking handle?

It’s been—two months. Two months, since Tony dropped to his knees and made a decision that he thought would result in his death. There were so many times in his life before that moment where he did the same—thought he was dying for something that was worth it, and he’d wanted it, he could deal with it, his own death. He’d been rolling towards death his whole life, with all his poor choices, and he was lucky to die for people he loved—

—but this time he didn’t want to go. He felt selfish. He was willing, he was...he was willing, because his love was bigger than it ever had been before, but that made it worse. He didn’t want to die. He didn’t want to leave them. He’d finally found what he wanted, what he needed. All the elements had finally come together like a completed puzzle.

He didn’t want to die, but he knew he was going to.

But he didn’t. And now he’s here and he’s someone else. He can barely fucking walk, he can barely fucking move, and Helen keeps using the word unprecedented. She’s got no idea how to track his progress. They don’t have any examples to follow. They don’t have shit. They’ve got his wasted, useless body, taking up space.

Tony doesn’t wanna be this guy. He doesn’t want to be this fucking guy.

“And this one is on a big billboard facing I4 in Orlando,” Pepper says, leaning her head on his good shoulder, laying on the bed beside him. She’s flipping through photos on her tablet, each one showing yet another Iron Man tribute. There are hundreds of them now, thousands in different places all over the world. He gets tons and tons of letters each day.

“So kids can pay their respects on the way to Disney World,” Tony says.

“Disney World is probably gonna do a meet and greet with Iron Man,” Pepper says. “You know. Costumed guy, like Chip and Dale.”

“Oh. Cute.” Tony sighs, and he reaches up, pinching the bridge of his nose. His arm shakes and he could barely get through his walking exercises earlier, and he just feels like crumbling into nothing.

He was supposed to die. He didn’t want to, but he was supposed to, and now he’s a shell of what he once was. He’s glad he’s here, he’s glad he’s with them, but he’s not the goddamn type to lay around and watch the world move on without him. He did that once and it was a mistake, a result of severe depression and a mark of his failure, and he doesn’t want to do it again. Morgan, for all her love and attachment to him, is best friends with every remaining Avenger, and Tony has never been so angry about a puzzle being completed without him than when he heard she and Sam finished off the Eiffel Tower one while he was taking one of his long naps.

And Peter. Peter is out there helping anybody and everybody, and coming back here bloody and beaten more often than not. Everything irritates Tony nowadays, from the way the water comes out of the faucet to the irregular beat of his heart, but that gets him most of all. And the kid refuses help, actively avoids Rhodey and everybody else who says they’ll help him, because he and Tony are cosmically linked in the way that they both have people who love them but they both go off on their own, like dumbasses, to keep everyone else safe. Seeing his own reflection in someone he values as much as Peter makes Tony feel insane, throws up walls and roadblocks and all kinds of confusing shit in his head, because he wants to be mad at him, wants to scream and throw tantrums and work in tandem with May to tell the kid never to leave the facility again, but he knows he’d do all the same things Peter is doing. Make all the same choices.

It’s his karmic justice, watching Peter step into the line of fire. That’s what Rhodey always says. But in the end, after everything, Peter is just better than Tony.

And Peter was dead. Peter was dust, Peter was a shining memory floating around Tony’s head every moment of every day, present in every fleck of sunlight, silent, silent, gone—and now he’s back and Tony is aching with the fear that he’ll die again. Die in a way that they can’t get him back, because Tony himself is torn, laid up, miles and miles from being worth anything to anyone.

“Where are you going?” Pepper asks, brushing Tony’s hair back now.

“What?” Tony asks, his neck hurting when he looks at her. “Did I move?”

“You’re far away in your eyes,” she says.

“Don’t go getting all metaphorical on me,” Tony says. “I never had the brain capacity for that shit, and now—”

“What are you thinking about?” Pepper asks, laying it out plain.

Tony sighs. He tries to shift on the bed a little bit without her help, but she offers it anyway, latching onto his arm. He grits his teeth and moves so he’s sitting up more, and his whole right side still feels like it’s on fire. Burning up, from the inside. His right arm isn’t worth shit anymore, he can’t put any weight on it without it threatening to collapse.

“Where are the kids?” he asks. He knows it’s late—well, late for him, considering he falls asleep at like eight now.

“Morgan’s watching TV with Cassie and Hope, but she’s got bedtime in like half an hour, and Peter...Peter…”

She looks like she’s trying to think on her feet for a lie, and Tony sighs, leaning back on the pillows.

“He’s gonna check in with me and Rhodey when he gets back,” Pepper says.

“Uh huh,” Tony says, trying not to imagine what the hell the kid is getting into now. The world is putting itself back together but it’s still a goddamn mess, and things aren’t like they were when Peter first disappeared. They never will be again. Is he even adapted to all that? Are these new, shithead villains allowing him to adapt? Tony knows the Raft lost a bunch in both snaps, in all the insane confusion. Where are they? Are they going after Peter?

He clears his throat. “Just remind Helen that I’m tired of being down here and I need to occupy the room you’re occupying before I have an entire fucking meltdown.” He knows he sounds petulant, but he doesn’t care. Pepper’s heard it plenty of times before.

She smiles, and leans in, kissing him on the cheek. “I’ll let her know.”

Tony doesn’t sleep, because he can’t, because too many things are plaguing him, most of all where Peter is and what he’s doing. Tony has a good view of the hallway through the windows to his room, and he stares and stares until his eyes cross, until he hallucinates, until he knows he’s going insane.

He sees Peter sneaking into the med bay at about four in the morning.

The kid’s mask is off and he’s got two short, harsh slashes across his cheek, and he’s bleeding from a slice across his neck. His suit is ripped in a few places and he’s holding onto his middle, and Tony can see his hands are shaking.

It’s like something splinters in Tony’s already broken brain, like his world narrows and there are hazy edges, both weakness and strength entwining in his veins when he sees Peter struggle up onto one of the beds in the main atrium, starting to tend his wounds without calling anybody to help.

Tony pulls his IV out with a wince, unhooks the heart monitor, and swings his legs over the side of the bed with every ounce of determination inside him. His cane is beside the door from where he left it earlier, and he’s counted the steps from his room to the main atrium a thousand times, and he can definitely make it.

He struggles over to the cane and grips it with his good hand like he wants it to break, and he doesn’t want to be an old man anymore. He called himself an old man years and years up until he actually became one, in a small, earth-shattering moment that changed him and everything else.

He hones in on Peter when he gets out into the hallway.

“What are you doing?” he calls.

Peter immediately looks up from his work on his side, and his brows furrow. He jumps off the bed with a little groan and rushes over to him. “Tony, what are you doing, you’re not supposed to be just wandering around—”

“It’s my facility,” Tony says, leaning into Peter when he comes over to support him. “I own it. I’ll wander. I can wander.”

Peter scoffs and moves him over to the closest chair, and Tony’s stupid cane clangs on the ground every time they take a step. Peter helps him sit and Tony can hear him wheezing.

“What happened to you?” Tony asks, leaning his cane against the wall. “What the hell are you doing out there, Pete? Shit, you keep coming back all fucked up and it’s...it’s making me nervous, kid. Recall, you were recently...very much not around—”

“I’m okay,” Peter says, patting Tony’s shoulder. He pulls up another chair and sits right next to him. “It’s just—a couple flesh wounds, you know? They’ll heal fast. I heal fast.”

“What about emotional scars?” Tony asks, raising his eyebrows, his heart still hammering from his brief stint on his feet. “Those stick, bud, and I know. I’ve got lots of ‘em. They’re littered all over me.”

Peter stares down at the ground for a second, bleeding. Tony sighs and reaches back up behind him, grabbing a box of Band-Aids from the shelf. It hurts to reach, it hurts to walk, it hurts to breathe, but it hurts worse to see the kid messed up like this. He takes one of the Band-Aids out and hands it over, replacing the box on a lower shelf. “Please put that on your face.”

Peter sighs and opens it up, looking at Tony as he sticks it there, trying to keep out the bubbles. Tony knows they have to clean it out, too, and the other one across Peter’s neck, let alone whatever’s going on with his ribcage.

Tony’s mind races.

“Why aren’t you giving yourself a break?” he asks. “Huh? Sam is laying around here like he’s on vacation. Clint’s whole family is staying in the west wing and nobody’s left for a week, we check on them to make sure they’re all still goddamn alive. Even Bruce is just sitting around playing video games with Thor, and me, I’m the biggest bag of bones there is, Pete, I’m just—”

“You’ve done enough,” Peter says, fast, and Tony sees that his eyes are red.

“You’ve done enough,” Tony repeats. “You’re busting your ass every night, doing God knows what, along with trying to adapt back into school—”

“You save everybody, but who saves you?” Peter asks, loud. His jaw is set, his brows furrowed. “You saved the whole entire world, no, universe, sorry, universe—you risked your life, you almost—you almost died, and most people are rightfully thankful and paying tribute but there are still assholes out there who want to—who want to try and hurt you, threaten you while you’re—while you’re recovering, and I found them and I—I’m just—I’m the one that saves you, okay? It’s me. I’m doing it, my job, you saved me, you’ve saved me—more than one time, multiple times, and I just—you’re—you’re too important to me to allow these guys to skulk around and make plans against you and I just—I gotta take care of it, my wounds heal and you’re safer and it’s...it’s fine.”

It’s quiet, after that. The kid’s rambling used to irritate him, in the beginning. Then he started to find himself endeared by it, and then he went looking for it, and then he missed it so desperately it was like he was missing a limb.

But this is like…this is…

He reaches out and takes Peter’s hands. He squeezes them, puts all of his might into his right. He doesn’t think about the scarring or being embarrassed about it, not right now. It doesn’t matter. “Peter.”

“Don’t tell me not to do it, because I’m—”

“I love you, kid,” Tony says, his voice breaking. “I love you. Okay? Just...it’s important to me that you know that. I don’t say it to a lot of people, but you’re—you—”

“I love you too,” Peter says. He squeezes Tony’s hands back, and looks miserable.

Tony wonders what the hell he’s found. He wonders if he’s even willing to share. He doesn’t think he has the strength to push him on it, not right now. “I know, after hearing all that, that there’s no way I can tell you to stop, like, not even if I special ordered those churros you like from Coney Island—”

“Nope, but it’s tempting,” Peter says, laughing a little bit.

“Just…please let Rhodey help you,” Tony says. “Please, Pete. Rhodey, Sam, Clint, Strange—please, please, Jesus, kid, let them help you. Let them help you with this, however the hell you’re going about it, let them help you with bank robberies and ATM holdups and stolen bikes and bodega brawls. Okay? Okay? You want me safe, I want you safe too, and that’s the way it’s gonna happen until I can suit back up and fly out there with you.”

Peter looks at him a particular way, when he says that. Like new hope dawns in his eyes. Tony hasn’t said anything about suiting up since—well, he hasn’t. Not at all. He hasn’t really considered it, since even the smallest things have felt insurmountable. But Peter, his loyalty, his love and dedication, shit, that’s...Tony doesn’t know how he’s earned that. If he’ll ever be truly deserving of it. But he wants to repay it.

“Please,” Tony says, squeezing the kid’s hands again. “I know I’m stubborn. I know May is stubborn. Don’t be stubborn like us. Not about this. Let us be stubborn, you be safe.”

Peter swallows hard and nods. “Okay,” he says, gently. “Fine. I’ll—I’ll give Rhodey the information and—have him go along with me, next time.”

“Good,” Tony says, relief in his shoulders.

“You gotta get back to bed,” Peter says, letting go of Tony’s hands and wincing to his feet. “For real. Pepper and Morgan would knock me into next Tuesday if they knew I was the reason you were running around.”

“Running around, please,” Tony says, watching him move over to the stock cabinet. “I’ll be doing marathons around this place if you don’t call Helen right this instant. Then she’ll have to deal with me on the ground and whatever the hell is going on with you.”

“I feel bad for her, dealing with us,” Peter says, looking over at him.

“Don’t worry,” Tony says. “I’m gonna give her as much money as she wants and a spa weekend, once her favorite spa reopens.”

“Good,” Peter says. “Okay, I’ll call her, lemme just—get some things ready for her, make it easy—”

The moment strikes Tony, suddenly. So unbearably real. Peter’s alive again. Alive. He’s really here, and he cares so goddamn much. “Pete,” Tony says.

“Yeah?” Peter asks, glancing over at him again.

Tony has been overwhelmed for two months now. Longer than that, if he thinks about it—five years, really, since Titan, since an empty grave and so much crying he nearly drowned in it—but the past two months he’s been a different person. But Peter still wants to protect that person. Peter still wants to stand by him, and for some reason, the others do too. Pepper, Morgan, Happy, Rhodey—his family, and the others, his team. Were they ever really a team before? Well, they are now. And the kid is the best of them.

If Peter thinks he’s worth protecting, worth saving, maybe that means all this turmoil is worth it. That all these little steps, despite how tedious and tiresome, might lead to him becoming...himself, again. And Peter is making sure there’s a place for him to come back to.

“Thank you,” Tony says, nodding to himself, a lump in his throat.

Peter smiles broadly, and holds his head high. “No. Thank you,” he says, right back.

#tony stark #peter parker #iron man #spider-man #iron dad #my fics #this one had a mind of its own lemme tell you

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marcholasmoth · 3 years

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OSRR: 2386

okay so i just got the sweetest asks today?????? they're right below this and i'm cryin, i don't deserve you guys ;-;

okay so like,

today was pretty good. at first.

i went on an adventure to the apple store with joel and i even got to hold his hand as we walked through the mall (bc i was walking so slowly bc knee hurt but i wasn't about to question it) but apparently his allergy to lavender might not just be lavender?? he says perfume is spicy air to him??? so. allergy.

anyway, he got himself a new watch today. he really loves it. i'm glad. otherwise i'd need to kidnap it.

we got lunch from friendly's - he didn't realize there was one still around until i said something. when talking about lunch options, he said "i didn't realize there was a pizza hut around here," and i said, "yeah, it's just across the street from friendly's." his eyes got all big and he just went "WHAT" and i said "friendly's it is!" so we got chicken tendies and mini mozzarella sticks and fribbles for lunch. (idk if anyone doesn't know what a fribble is, but it's a friendly's milkshake, as opposed to a frappe, which is thicker.) (terminology is very important.) (even though a milkshake implies shaking milk, and that's just silly.)

but we went back to his house and watched tv for a while. we started watching eureka together since i wasn't terribly far in and everyone else i started watching with has already gone ahead and watched all of it without me.

the rest of this is like. not so good. so tw for depression, suicidal ideation, self-harm, and self-hatred from here on out, but also like, some good points for therapy.

around 7 i realized i needed to be home, so i went home. i was supposed to spend the evening playing diablo ii with andrew, but heading home meant i couldn't do that, and i felt pretty crummy about it, and i realized that my actions caused him to feel like an afterthought. which is the last thing i want him to feel like. he's one of my bestest friends, and realizing that i hurt him like i did kinda broke something in me. and it just... spiraled from there. (... honestly i almost rammed my car into a cliff face. i took my foot off the gas and hands off the wheel before i could do it though. it's been a long time since i last felt unsafe driving. yikes.) and then i realized what was happening was because of rejection-sensitive dysphoria. but just because of that, doesn't mean it wasn't accurate. that being a shitty friend isn't excusable by saying "i'm a disaster" or "i've been busy" or even "i can't keep things straight in my head" when it's really just all my fault. and there's no excuse to treat a friend like i've been treating him. and then i looked at all of my other friendships and relationships, and i saw that same pathetic disconnection in all of them, because apparently i can't make and keep fucking connections ever. because i don't get attached like normal people do. because i don't feel things like normal people do. because i don't see how my actions affect others like normal people do. and i don't get what i don't get. i'm grateful i have a therapist appointment in a little over a week. i should put a list together of things i need help with.

when i got home i was sure to send him a text and tell him how sorry i was because goddamnit if i can't be a good friend then what the fuck can i be, huh??? if i can't be a good fucking person what good things do i deserve???? none, that's fucking what. and as i drove home i started beating myself up over it. literally. when i got home, i did the same thing. it's been a long time since i last hit my head or slapped myself or punched something, never mind my own jaw. and as i was driving as i smashed my fist into the steering wheel repeatedly i said "no fucking wonder you don't have life insurance" because - surprise! - i got denied life insurance back in april or whatever when i got my new car insurance.

jesus fucking christ, even when i got home i just. couldn't handle it. my dad got me flowers for valentine's day - he always gets us stuff for valentine's day. it's always been a thing in my family - we always get things for each other. and i'm pretty sure that's why valentine's day is my favorite holiday. (i thought to myself after the cliff face passed me how awful it would be for people to process i killed myself the day before my favorite holiday, rip) but anyway, when i saw the flowers, i couldn't even continue into the room to watch tv with my parents. i just started crying again. i didn't stop crying until like 9pm. i got to give my parents their chocolates i got for them too, and i honestly didn't get to see their reactions because i took off my glasses before so i'd stop fucking crying on them. and it all just hurt so much. because i don't fucking deserve the kind things people do for me because i'm not a good fucking person. goddamn it. like, i get this is fucking stupid. "oh you're not a bad person" good people don't do what they do and not concern themselves with what others feel, especially when it's their closest friends. good people don't fucking fall apart at the slightest sign of something being wrong. good people don't fucking hurt their loved ones. so fuck if i'm a good person, because i'm fucking not. and i hate that. because if i'm not, i'm nothing. i have nothing going for me. at all. i'm really just a shit human who doesn't deserve good things. fuck.

(goddamn i'm trying, but fuck if i'm succeeding.)

but eventually, i calmed down enough to watch tv. endgame was on by then.

i didn't really eat dinner. i got my mom food from mcnaldos and i feel bad because i transferred money to my account from here to get us both dinner but then i determined i didn't deserve it so i just got her food. i determined i deserved pain so i thought about canceling my orthopedist appointment for tuesday and stopping wearing my knee brace because i deserve the pain. i inflict it on others, so i deserve it myself. found the passing thought of trying to purposefully get corona or how to best tie myself up in tarps to keep my brains from splattering everywhere. driving home... was Bad. hence this. i also half-heartedly started making a list of passwords and accounts i'd need to write down for people to notify others of my death, of how to say goodbye without causing much notice.

jesus fucking christ i have problems.

and now reflecting on it it still makes sense to me. so i apologize to everyone. i'm a disaster and i'm sorry you gotta see me like this.

there's really no need to worry - i won't act on anything. that's just not something i'm brave enough to do. i'm a fucking coward, and that's something you can count on. i cry when people's voices are raised. anyone who thinks i can take the fast train to deadville via the fuckthis express doesn't know how much of a fucking coward i am lmao

fuck this though, fuck living. i'm so bad at it.

#depression tw #suicide mention tw #self loathing tw #self hate tw #car crash tw #didn't happen but it's mentioned #molly rambles #operation srr #osrr #2000s #2300s #sunshine boy

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once-upon-a-scenario · 4 years

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Icarus: Bakugou/reader, Part 5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 6 (Edited summary because I didn’t like the first one haha) In which Katsuki continues to despise you, but gets accused of being nice more often than he could appreciate. Things aren’t really going his way lately.

(Also there’s a title drop.)

(I might put this series on hiatus for a while, depending on how my feelings about it change (or don’t change)...sorry for how late this update is + my inconsistent as hell writing style, I kinda lost motivation in the middle because idk, I’m kinda dissatisfied with how it’s going so far ;-; And I’ve now remembered that quirk training/sparring wasn’t a huge thing until post training camp arc, but ah well. I’ve already written it in so let’s just ignore that small defiance of canon XD Hope somebody out there can enjoy the story anyway, though! ^^;;;

-Eve)

_____

Katsuki doesn’t believe in red flags, the same way he doesn’t believe in cowering. He tears right through them and doesn’t look back.

You’ve made your stance clear, so this is a turning point. The next time your handkerchief turns up in his uniform pocket, he marches over to the washing machine and shoves it in. It’s only a generic, white cotton handkerchief- hopefully, his mother will mistake it for one of her own. If she doesn’t, he doesn’t care.

Because that’s what you said yourself, isn’t it? We don’t have to be.

He tolerates walking with you, answering your every word through gritted teeth but refusing to back down. Fights don’t have to be physical; the tension carries over from the sparring field to the classroom to the walks home, when Kirishima will later comment on his harshness, but shitty hair doesn’t get it and that’s fine.

(He can’t tell anyone that he has an extra mental image added to the film reel in his brain, that he’s now stuck on loop with you looking back at him from the left fork in the road, your smile sharp with a momentary flash of secret humor as your mouth forms the words,

We don’t have to be.

And the wording of that phrase is a needle in his consciousness, ever-present and irritating, because something about your tone, something about the way you worded it-

The only logical conclusion is mockery, and the only way to retaliate is not to give in.)

We don’t have to be (friends.)

True. You can be proper enemies instead.

_____

But there’s a method to dealing with this. New approach, new rules.

_____

So when he finds you in front of the vending machine after school, examining the drinks on display inside, he stops for a moment and greets you with a blunt,

“The fuck are you doing?”

You tap on the glass at the machine’s front. Do you think milk tea is preferable to boba?

“How the hell should I know anything about your stupid tea?” But he looks at the bottles, because whatever game of faux-friendliness it is that you’re playing, he’s decided not to lose. “Don’t get tapioca though, it’s fucking gross.”

Really? You seem to be in the minority there.

“Well I’m right so does it matter?”

You hum- neither agreeing nor disagreeing- and begin counting out coins. Clink, clink, clink. When the machine regurgitates two bottles, you fish them out and hold them up, squinting slightly as if to examine them.

Would you like one?

He glares. “Keep it. I don’t drink that shit.”

You shrug lightly, unfazed as you slip one bottle into your bag. Ah, well. I suppose Kirishima might want the boba, then.

It’s nice that you’re assuming Kirishima will be there- that you’ll be walking together. As if anybody asked for you to join in. Katsuki just sneers before he whirls around and stalks briskly away, making sure that he’s fast enough to leave you behind.

There’s a certain bitter, unfulfilled satisfaction in the sound of your footsteps leisurely chasing after him.

_____

“Is anybody actually looking forward to camp?” Kaminari groans as the students file out of class.

I am, you remark, entirely too brightly.

“What the fuck is there to look forward to?” Katsuki doesn’t like the way you’re falling into step beside him, as nonchalantly as if you do this every day, but he clenches his fist and bears it. “Also, don’t tell me you’re going to meet up with your shitty boyfriend again.” (Kirishima’s jagged elbow glances off his side. He ignores it.)

Well, you can never get too much training. But no. You hum, adjusting the strap of your backpack and checking your phone. I’m not meeting Takeo-kun today.

___ Not meeting Takeo-kun means you walk home alone. Katsuki kicks at the pavement as he whirls around, determined not to watch you go. It’s not as if he cares. You can be an antisocial asshole if you want to be; doesn’t matter to him. He wonders, though. What you do when you go home. What you do when you’re with your boyfriend. The things he knows of you- your horrible crumpled shirt collar, your insulting serenity, your grades and your quirk- don’t lend themselves to any image of a person outside of school. So there’s another facet of yourself you’re keeping close to your chest. It pisses him off. How many times do you need to fight someone before you figure them out? How much do you need to know before you really win? _____

The bus is bursting with chatter from all sides; Katsuki’s palms begin to tingle as he turns and tries to shout in every general direction, “Can everybody just shut the fuck up for one second?!”

Which just makes them louder.

The only exception is you, staring out the window on one side and watching the scenery flash by. There’s a weird look on your face, your brow slightly furrowed as you lean against the glass pane, apparently lost in thought, which is rude of you, considering that he’s about to decimate you again once training starts.

“Oi,” Katsuki begins, not entirely sure what he’s about to say, only knowing that your thoughtfulness pisses him off, but then you look up and meet his gaze.

Exciting, isn’t it? Seems like we’re going to have some fun.

“…’fun,’ my ass.”

He slouches back into his seat and glares at the floor, additional curse words suddenly dying in his throat. Doesn’t matter. There’s never been much of a point in picking verbal fights with you, if only because you just don’t talk enough to keep things going. He’ll beat you at camp. That should be good enough.

The soft huff of almost-laughter that drifts from your lips just pisses him off that much more.

______

When Class 1-A stumbles out on the other side of the forest after a long, hellish battle, he glances at you. There’s a cut on your forehead and sweat on your brow but you don’t seem to mind. You catch his eye and smile at him, shoulders still shaking with deep, ragged breaths. Like you’re not bothered at all.

He returns the look with a scoff. Same old, then.

______

Training is harsh.

Katsuki creates explosion after explosion from his palms as he stands, planted stubbornly on the baking earth beneath the midday sun, burning his skin and brining his clothes with sweat. It’s gross, but the fire’s getting hotter and the damage from his quirk is getting worse, which really means better.

He’d anticipated a fight, but maybe this is fine- grinding sparks from his hands and watching them get hotter, sharper, louder when they burst. Deku, the fucking bastard, isn’t going to catch up this time. And when he spars with you again, he’ll get the explosions strong enough that he won’t have to resort to fistfights anymore. That’s kind of the point of camp, after all.

______

“You hold back too much.” It’s Day Two. He spots Aizawa-sensei taking you aside and overhears his quiet words, spoken in a low tone under the rest of 1-A’s post-training chatter and groaning. “Your control over Reflection is highly advanced for your age, but you’ve taken it too far. That’s just stunting a perfectly good quirk.” You bow your head. I’ll work harder, sensei. Katsuki fixes his gaze on Pikachu and Mineta, both currently getting told off by Tiger for something or other, and wipes the sweat from his brow. He keeps his mouth in a line and his eyes steady. It’s not as if some cheesy teacher-student moment is anything he should be giving a shit about. He just feels half resentful, half spitefully vindicated by Aizawa-sensei’s comments- the implication that you could be doing better, maybe didn’t necessarily have to get knocked on your ass every time you fought him. As Aizawa-sensei wanders back off towards the Pussycats, Katsuki catches a glimpse of your face. It’s neutral, just the way it always is, eyes staring blankly after your teacher as he leaves, but there’s something off, maybe. Something in the line of your jaw that seems unnaturally stiff, making you look less calm and more just exhausted. Maybe even sad. (Like you have any fucking right to go around looking depressed?) When Class 1-A begins to head back to their base, he stalks up to you, glaring, and slows momentarily to match your dragging pace. It’s not that he particularly wants to talk to you, but he’s pissed enough by what he’s heard that he doesn’t want to avoid you, either. For reasons probably best known to yourself, you don’t object. ”You better fucking improve,” he hisses to you under his breath, quietly enough that Aizawa-sensei could miss it. “And get ready for me to kick your ass again once you do.” For some reason, the stiff lines of your face soften again, just a fraction. I will. Thank you. ”The fuck are you thanking me for?” You shrug with a knowing glance that makes him feel enraged all over again. It’s nice of you to walk with me. And by all accounts, that should make him immediately leave you for Kirishima or Ashido or even Kaminari, but because that would be losing, and he’s long since made up his mind to adapt to the game, he just curses again and sticks with you. The entire journey back is sickeningly reminiscent of the walks home.

_____

Later at night, he catches sight of you, sitting at one of the wooden tables used for dinner with a book held up to your face. The letters on the dark blue cover spell out Greek & Roman Mythology.

He could just go inside and leave you to your own devices, but, “Hey,” he calls out instead, loud and abrupt, just to gloat in the way you briefly tense before turning to face him.

You inhale deeply, shaking your head. Hello. You surprised me.

He snorts. “Yeah, yeah. You just gonna sit there forever?”

I’ll get inside soon, you don’t need to worry about me.

“Who said I was worried, you bastard?”

He glares. You’re still sitting silently, while he stands as close as he can get, hands shoved deep in his pockets and words swimming in his head but the right ones getting lost on the way to his mouth. There’s a brief moment of staring and he hates your practiced blankness, the way you act so goddamn collected when there’s clearly something hidden underneath that you won’t set free. It’s like going round and round in circles, stuck in this loop of a game that doesn’t end because you don’t seem to understand the rules. Though- whatever. He’s getting used to the rhythm. And though you make his blood boil on the best of days, there’s no worth in picking a fight when you’re wilting for some inexplicable reason. Have you ever heard of the story of Icarus? ...what the fuck kind of a non-answer is that? The look on his face must have said something, because, damn it all, there’s a hint of what might almost be amusement in your eyes now- he wonders if you’re even capable of looking amused without also somehow mocking him. “The fuck are you laughing at?” I’m not laughing. You tap the book lightly with a finger. If you’d like, I’ll tell you about him sometime. Just remind me that I owe you a story. “You don’t owe me anything. I don’t give a shit about some stupid story.” But he glances at the book again before he turns to leave. You’ve opened it to an illustrated page, bordered with designs almost like stained glass, a winged figure in the middle of the paper reaching up towards a gold-foil sun glimmering in the dim light. Looks pretty fucking useless, Katsuki decides as he wanders off, leaving you to your own devices. ______

The next morning, you greet him with a smile at breakfast. As he offers a glower in return and turns back to his food, he notes how you yawn your way through the entire meal, your hands shaking and fumbling as you reach for a mug. He’s not about to ask any more questions, because it’s not like he cares; you probably just stayed up the entire night reading your stupid book, and now you’re paying the price for it. He doesn’t owe anybody any explanation as to why he curses you out and hands you the mug instead of leaving you to suffer. “Somebody’s being uncharacteristically nice,” Icy-hot notes in his most insultingly deadpan voice. Katsuki reaches across the table and explodes his toast. ____ The third night of camp is a fairly straightforward situation. The test of courage is done in pairs; Class 1-A is composed of twenty one students; twenty one is an odd number. Therefore, either one group should be composed of three people, or one of these fuckers has to suck it up and go alone. “We should draw lots,” Iida suggests, adjusting his glasses as he turns to seek the Pussycats’ approval. “Or does anybody want to volunteer?” “Count me out of it!” Mineta, the fucking nuisance, already has his eyes bugging out of his tiny head in fear. “I’m not dying at fifteen, no thanks, why can’t I just go with two partners- ?!” Katsuki inhales deeply, feeling a familiar migraine coming on as he prepares to speak up- he can go alone just fine, unlike the majority of these fucking extras- when somebody else’s hand shoots up instead. He turns to look and immediately scowls. Of course. Invisible Girl and Uraraka are hanging off of your arms and practically fucking weeping as you glance at them with raised eyebrows. “Seriously? Aren’t you scared at all?” “Hell yeah, show B-2 what we’re made of-!” I’ll be ok, you say, the words directed to Mandalay. After all, it’s not as though there’s any real danger. _____ Someday, Katsuki might look back and pinpoint this as the moment when everything went to hell. He’s not superstitious- thinks superstition is a fucking ridiculous concept, has never believed in omens- but it’s almost funny how ironic your comment seems in hindsight. Not as though there’s any real danger. The words seem to echo in his head as he feels the rough, scarred hand of the villain close around his wrist and the cold mist begin to swallow him up, Deku reaching towards him from the other side, and he snarls, stay the fuck back you shitty nerd, do you honestly want to mess this up any more than it already is- The mist closes around him. (In the last few seconds, he realizes that though Deku’s accounted for- you’re not. If you die before your sparring rematch, he’s going to kill you.) ____ Shouta almost sinks to the ground in relief when his last unaccounted for student finally stumbles out of the forest. As it is, you’re the one who immediately slumps. He grabs your shoulders as gently as he can, hoisting you to your feet as he examines your face, your limbs, the tears in your clothing. Though there’s not much blood, only a few cuts here and there on your hands and cheek, you seem unnaturally dazed. For a tense second, he’s terrified as he searches your eyes for any dilation, or any sign of consciousness- god, if you’ve inhaled the gas- But then your gaze finally focuses on him and you speak, voice hoarse and ragged. Sensei- sensei- is everybody alright? Where’s- “It’s alright,” he mutters, steadying you as you begin to tremble. “Shh. Calm yourself.” You’re insistent, though, hoisting yourself up on wobbling legs. Sensei, what about Bakugou? “Bakugou’s...” He can’t say it, not now, not here, but you seem to understand anyway. A tear runs down your cheek. Shouta holds you steady as you begin to cry. You’re shaken- crying over Bakugou, a boy you barely seemed to like, is proof of that. Something happened in the forest, something that hurt you, even if it wasn’t necessarily physically. None of the other students have broken down like this so far. For the moment, though, he holds you, and chooses not to ask.

#BNHA #Bakugou Katsuki #Bakugou #Bakugou x reader #Bakugou Katsuki x reader #Katsuki Bakugou x reader #Katsuki x reader #Bakugou x you #Bakugou Katsuki x you #Bakugou x y/n #BNHA reader insert #gender neutral reader #scenario #Mod Eve

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spaceraspberries · 3 years

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The expanse of shadowy, unending darkness expanding like a hungry maw ahead of the clearly unnerved Mira and Terra as the pair of young, naive explorers took their time in trying to calm their nerves as they sat by a column of rather cleanly cut stones for a long while, neither of the girls seemed to really want to venture any farther into the cave than they already had despite the possibility of going back to base being a no go for the time being.

After...-whatever- likely accident had gone on back there neither of the pair wanted to see what was left of the ravaged camp and potentially of their unfortunate team mates, Mira herself having came to the conclusion that it must have been some weird, natural event that no one had been prepared to encounter as depressing as the thought was, the still unexplored interior of Mt. Ebott likely having plenty more dangerous secrets to unfold yet still.

It only she had been clear minded enough in her and Terra’s rush to leave the camp than perhaps they could have been calling for back up at this very moment on the radio transmitter that had been stored away in Mira’s bag for emergency use, cell phone service obviously being nonexistent down here and rendering the devices they carried useless, The girls being fully on their own for now as hopeless as the terrifying thought was to ponder.

“Mira, I’m cold....”

A whispered breath coming from the wide eyed Terra as the petite girl cuddled to her best friend for warmth, being thinly built wasn’t really any benefit to the youngest among the former group of six, her not exactly being made to retain heat in a environment like this when she didn’t possess so much as a jacket due to having to leave the base in such a rush.

Terra shifting uncomfortably as Mira sighed and tried to assist her friend up into a better position, they couldn’t afford to remain in this single area of the cave for too long and simply hope that somehow, by some chance that help would come, the only real chances of that panning out being if anyone back at base was still alive and well enough to be able to contact emergency assistance through the radio.

Judging from the eerie silence of the darkness behind them it seemed there was little chance that was the case....

“Come on, I know your tired but we gotta keep moving forward. It’s not going to do us any good to sit around”, Mira still trying to keep up a chipper tone despite the circumstances as Terra simply nodded reluctantly in response and got up to begin to follow her designated leader farther into the cave system, the darkness of the cavern wasn’t easy for either of the girls to navigate, Mira more than once cussing under her breath as she stubbed a foot into a particularly hard rock.

It was probably a good half hour or so of feeling carefully along the dry, sandpaper like walls and trying to keep in touch with each other by talking before the long cave system began to finally show any signs of change,Terra taking notice of it first as she gasped at the sensation of strange smoothness under her bare foot at a point.

“M-Mira! I think we are getting somewhere!~”, The shy girls hopeful smile shining through even in the gloom as it was clear to Mira as well that the rock strewn path really was beginning to pan out into a more recognizably paved surface, it...did raise a few questions on exactly why a apparently unexplored cave system felt ‘paved’, the pairs sudden emergence into a long, pillared hallway as they rounded a corner making both of the girls stop in their tracks immediately.

The strangely lavender hued hall being flanked by unlit but seemingly well used torches every ten feet or so along its otherwise bare walls and intricately carved pillars, it gave the entire area a seriously unnerving and recently uninhabited vibe, a arched doorway farther down the path appearing to lead deeper into...well, whatever this strangely castle-like area was, Mira feeling her heart heavily pounding in her ears as she tried to take it all in one step at a time.

‘What -is- this? Surely t-this is some joke...there is no way someone -lives- down here, right?....I-I mean get it together, Mira....your almost five hundred feet underground!’

“What do you think all this is?....”, Terra glancing back at the cave they had emerged from cautiously as she followed Mira into the smooth stone paved hall, the slightly taller of the pair shook her head as she really couldn’t think of a logical explanation for any of this strange and unexpected place.

“Beats me. Whatever it is though I don’t think we should stick around and find out. This place is giving me the serious creeps”.

‘I’m going to have to remember to mention this once we get back to the surface. I mean, this is all probably just some old school cave attraction or something from back in the day...still, you would think it would have been on the GPS earlier...a-and Sean said no one had ever been down here before anyways....just...’

Trying to rattle her brain for answers as

she and Terra neared the end of the otherwise bare hall in no time, a strangely wet, fast paced skitter ahead of them through the archways seemed to get Terra’s attention as Mira took a second to observe some rather cryptic looking symbols on the last pillar in the room.

“U-uh, Mira....”, Terra’s eyes widening in confusion as she went to grab her distracted friends arm as she was absolutely sure that she saw something small, round and stout moving in the dimly lit gloom of the room ahead, Terra was absolutely sure that the only living creatures that had a chance of surviving down here were probably just bats, whatever was causing the wet, squelching sound she alerted Mira towards slowly moving closer....

And yet closer.....

Mira tensing her stance as she shuffled Terra behind her for safeties sake, the messy haired brunette tried to seem more intimidating than she actually was, puffing out her minimal chest and clenching her fists as if the worst kind of beasts was surely stalking them from the shadows.

“I don’t k-know -who- you are but you better come out right now before me and my friend here came after your ourselves!!”.

Yelling into the void as she huffed and waited for some kind of response, the wet sounding footsteps of whatever creature that had spooked Terra stopped rather suddenly, a low, guttural croak of a noise preceding it that made Terra tense up like a pretzel as she clung to Mira’s back as the creature finally came into full view, it’s disgustingly buggy eyes and bumpy green skin almost being comparable to some kind of tiny goblin as it lurched forth.

...........

But I-it was....

......

It was simply a frog......a oversized one, but a run of the mill frog nonetheless.

Terra and Mira unable to help but look at the squat creature for more than a moment without bursting into nervous laughter, Mira had been so prepared to fight what she seemed to think would be the Minotaur of legend that she hadn’t even thought to think that there could be rivers that emptied down into these caves and swept unfortunate creatures like this along with it into the depths of Mt. Ebott.

“O-oh my God! I feel so stupid right now~”, laughing happily as she patted Terra on the back, Mira for a moment was able to forget their tense situation as the frog ‘guarding’ the entryway to the rest of the Ruins gave off a odd noise that almost seemed cat-like, “Anyways, let’s keep going forward. If there are frogs here than that must mean there is a waterfall or something nearby and our best bet will be to see if it leads anywhere promising”.

“Good idea~!”, Terra nodding with a confident smile for once as she went to follow closely behind Mira as they tried to sidestep the frog, the last thing the pair was expecting was for the out of place animal to hop directly in their path once again, Mira raising a brow curiously down at the living obstacle as she tried to side step it once again.

And again, the frog hopped to block their path.

Another try?

The same result, Mira slowly growing frustrated after a few attempts as it was as if the frog was mocking them somehow, her patience wearing thin by the third or fourth time the frog stopped her and Terra’s progress.

“Stop it!!”, Stomping a foot in annoyance as she eventually simply went to pick up the creature in a effort to put it aside so she and Terra could pass, Mira certainly wasn’t expecting for the until now docile creature to rumble loudly and open its small maw, a handful of what seemed to be live, black flies erupting from its throat and swarming directly into Mira’s face as she let out a shrill, panicked scream and dropped the freakish frog in a instant.

“Terra!! Get them off!!”, Crying and shaking her head frantically and running her fingers through her hair as the after mentioned ‘frog’ hopped away in the chaos of Terra attempting to calm her severely entomophobic friend down, the once ‘attempting to be brave’ Mira had been reduced to fat tears rolling down her exhausted face from the shock of the frog creature apparently throwing up nearly a weeks worth of its insect meals out of some terrible form of defense.

Terra whacking the buzzing critters off of Mira the best she could as she than took her turn to tug her friend past the nearby arch and into the oddly similar, still pillared hall beyond, the move was enough to leave Mira’s pest behind but it didn’t stop the terrified girl from clinging onto Terra for a few seconds as she regained her breath and a bit of her composure back as well.

“What -was- that thing!? A-animals don’t just spit up live insects like that! There is -no- way that was just some regular, stupid frog!”, Crossing her arms over her chest as she shook her head and rattled her mind for some kind of logical explanation to what had just happened, Terra didn’t seem to have much of a explanation either, the introvert simply tugging on Mira’s arm gently to urge her to keep going forward.

“I don’t know, but we have to keep moving like you said, okay? The sooner we get out of here the better”, Terra trying to be the calm one between them despite her more than obvious fears as she gave Mira a hopeful look, it seemed to help her agitated friend just enough so that she nodded in response and tried to smile back lightly.

“Y-yeah, the sooner the better....”.

For as much as the wayward and lost pair were afraid, Mira and Terra understood that the chances of anyone actually finding them down here were slim and that it was up to them to find some possible way out of this almost ethereal looking set of rooms and halls they had came across.

As long as they had each other to lean on were surely going to work out in the end.

............

.........

......

The next few hours of navigating mazes, strange, stone based puzzles, and odd traps didn’t exactly go well for the increasingly exhausted and agitated pair of friends, the ‘frog’ they had encountered earlier proving to be just a taste of what this strange, almost Lovecraftian world they had stumbled into held in its narrow and winding halls.

A flying monstrosity that used its acid like tears to scorch and burn away most of Terra’s sleeves when she was lulled into attempting to comfort the ‘saddened’ creature was the first taste the pair had of some of the other dangers wandering about.

Not long after that had been yet another of those ‘frogs’ they had encountered earlier, this one using its long, whip like tongue to snap at Mira painfully though instead of simply sending a wave of irritating flies in her face.

From each of these frightful events the girls put up little actual fight and only chose to dash past them when possible deeper into the Ruins, the thought of actually -killing- any of them not being a thought that really popped up in either of their minds despite the dangers they clearly posed.

Terra herself being too meek to even consider stomping on one of the strangely built creatures that interrupted their progress, Mira meanwhile simply didn’t have it in her heart, her morality being too soft to wish harm on anyone or anything.

By the time the pair of worn out and downtrodden girls had arrived in a off colored, gray room that didn’t resemble the rest of these winding Ruins at all they were both shabby looking and their expressions looked the part of a couple of humans who had dealt with more than their fair share of surprises today, Terra in particular with her shredded and melted sleeves and heavy eyelids looking ready to somehow simply burrow her and Mira to the surface world if she could.

“How much longer do you think we need to go? You would think we would have seen a exit or something by now...”, Mostly talking to herself as her once upbeat voice had lost its sense of wonder about this mysterious yet seemingly maze-like place, Mira was getting sick of the stale air and dusty ground beneath them, her sore feet growing raw and bruised due to possessing no boots to speak of, “If not for those, uh...’things’ that tried to mess with us I would say this was some weird attraction or something...”.

Terra shaking her head as she stopped near a strangely cracked pillar for a breather, she had long since gotten it in her head that this place wasn’t man made unlike Mira who wanted to assume it was some human construction still, “Its not anything like that, that’s for sure. I don’t think anyone would build some weird maze this deep underground, it’s too out of the way”

“Well what else could it be?? Do you think ghosts or something just magically made this all appear one day or something?”, Raising a brow curiously at Terra as she went to go take a spot near her friend and let out a deep sigh, they had been walking for hours now with no sign of a end to these catacombs and naturally needed to relax for a moment.

“W-what? Of -course- not! I just mean...well, these Ruins look pretty old and all so maybe it’s like, some ancient complex or something. Like those etchings on the wall we passed up, those didn’t look like any type of human writing form, did they?”.

“No, I guess not...but still...that doesn’t discount those weird creatures, like that frog and that crying, muppet looking fly that attacked you”, Mira wishing she had done more research on the fauna of cave system biomes like this before making her way down here with their now likely deceased team, the girl sighed as she tugged the frustrated looking Terra close with a hopeful gaze.

“Hey, whatever this place really is doesn’t matter, okay? Pretty soon we will be back home and none of this will matter. I bet Sean and the others even made it back home too!”, Trying to give Terra some much needed determination, the usually reserved girl smiled up at Mira and nodded slightly as the both of them leaned back against the small, out of the way area they had taken temporary shelter in.

Maybe they could get a few minutes rest in before continuing on their seemingly impossible journey back to the surface.....

................

........

~Hello?~’

.........

Mira catching a bit of shut eye as Terra in turn kept her head tucked into her friends chest for warmth, only the latter seemed to stir at the apparent sound of a rather soft, kindly voice waking her from her sleep, Terra opening her eyes confused a crack as she clearly expected that Mira was trying to jostle her awake.

“What’s up? We ready to get moving again?~”, Yawning and stretching her body a bit as she casually glanced around, the last thing Terra was expecting to see was a pair of shaggy, fur covered...uh, legs and hooves standing about four or five feet away from them, a lump growing in Terra’s throat as the larger than life goat-like creature before them gave a wide, happy smile when Terra looked up at the stranger.

“I’m so happy I finally found you, young ones! I was worried you may have gotten yourselves into trouble without proper guidance in these Ruins~”.

“U-uh....”, Terra looking up wide eyed at the thick furred monster as her high pitched voice tried to form words, she merely was able to let out a squeak as she hastily shook Mira awake, her unwary friend groaning and shifting a bit annoyed as Terra practically pushed her over in her urgency.

“What is it? Just a few m-more minutes...”.

“Mira!”, Grunting as she shook the sleepy girl until she finally relented and opened her eyes, the goat monster meanwhile waited oddly patiently, her thickly clawed hands clasped in front of her as if she were waiting for the shock to set in the pair of humans mind that she clearly wasn’t of the same species.

“Well, perhaps I may have been a bit too hasty in introducing myself to you both. I assure you that I mean no harm though~”.

The goat creature taking a step forward as Mira almost instantly, as she had done with Terra before with the frog creature, shuffled the petite girl behind her, the monster seemed to hesitant momentarily as Mira glared daggers through her hide.

“First off, who and what are you?”, Speaking steadily and slow as she tried to make sense of the apparently female monster who never let her wide, almost forced grin off her face, Mira took the moment to observe that the creatures white fur, even on her face, seemed to possess a dirty, rustled look as if she hadn’t bothered to bath it in who knows how long.

Her short, stubby horns, almost buried beneath her long, drooping ears and fur, having the same glistening, polished blackness as her claws and hooves, the monsters eyes shined a brilliant green hue despite the relative darkness of the cavern.

The monsters torn but otherwise clean looking dress reaching her beastly ankles, it was almost as green as her eyes were with a faintly familiar symbol on it that Mira vaguely remembered seeing when her and Terra had first found this odd place, the triple triangles and wings holding no real meaning to the girl as of yet.

“You may call me Toriel, child. I am the caretakers of these Ruins that you two seem to have become intimately familiar with~”, The goat monsters voice almost having a bit of a laughing tone underneath its sweetness, Toriel’s honesty seemed to calm Mira down slightly as the girl softened her stance and allowed Terra to move away from the relative safety of being wedged behind her and the wall, “May I ask your names? I’m not terribly familiar with human customs but it seems only reasonable to avoid referring to you as simply ‘humans’, yes?~”.

“U-uh....yeah...you can call me Mira....this here is Terra...”, Speaking warily as she watched for any sign that this ‘Toriel’ creature was going to turn on her, the goat monster simply kept up her wide grin as she clapped her hands once happily.

“Wonderful!~ Mira and Terra, truly two names that fit together like...like twin snails in a shell!~”, Toriel’s sharp toothed grin almost seemed a bit devilish for a brief moment as Terra blushed and wrinkled her nose at the odd euphemism the strange creature referred to them as.

“So, c-can you tell us exactly what these ‘Ruins’ are at all? I mean, Mira and I had no idea these were even down here until, well...something attacked our base camp and we kinda came across all this...”, Terra glancing at Mira as it to confirm if it was okay to even mention what had gone on back at camp to this still very much a stranger monster, Toriel’s kindly expression shifted a bit at the mention of the humans ‘base’.

“Attacked your base? Are you to say there were other humans besides you both down here?? Have you had contact with them since this happened?”, Toriel’s green eyes dimming a bit in thought as her grin faintly faltered for a moment, Terra and Mira both shook their heads sadly.

“We haven’t seen anyone since it happened. We aren’t ever sure what attacked them....”, Muttering unhappily under her breath as she thought about Sean and the others and the utter fear they must have been feeling if they were somehow still alive, Mira took Toriel’s sympathy to heart as the kindly goat mom didn’t seem to mean any harm and even appeared to be genuinely concerned for their well being, “There were originally six of us just coming down here for some basic research, that’s about it”.

“Oh...well, I see...As much as I wander these ruins I can’t say I have seen any sight of your friends, unfortunately...but seeing as I have at least come across the both of you the least I can do is give you a guiding hand”, Toriel offering one of her massive, clawed paws to whichever of the curious humans wanted to take it, Mira was the first one to be brave enough after a few seconds of hesitation to lay her own, dirt encrusted hand into it as if to show Terra that this creature didn’t seem to want to harm them and could likely be trusted.

“Mira, be careful...”, Terra watching wide eyed as her clearly much braver friend was seemingly trying to assess if Toriel was dangerous or not on her own terms, the goat monster made no move to harm Mira despite having the clear size advantage to do so, her increasingly unnerving grin remaining as she hummed softly and paid Terra no mind.

Toriel merely running one of her thick claws over Mira’s dirty palm slowly as if somewhere in the back of her mind she was grappling with a unwanted thought or two, the silence between the pair was almost defeating for a few seconds as one could likely hear a pin drop if they listened hard enough until Toriel finally spoke up again with a slight chuckle.

“Well, come along young ones. I believe you seem to both be in need of some tender love and care, yes?~”, Offering her other free hand to Terra as the girl politely declined, the rejection seemed to cause Toriel’s until now kind gaze to harden slightly as she wrapped the paw that was holding Mira’s own a bit tighter.

“Please, take my hand, Terra. It’s impolite to reject warranted kindness in monster culture~”.

“Oh no, really, I’m fine, Miss Toriel, I can just follow-“.

“Take. my. Hand”.

The tense but sweet atmosphere being broken by the sudden depth and harshness of Toriel’s shift in tone, Mira let out a light gasp as the grip on her hand tightened for a moment enough to cause her physical pain, Toriel not seeming or not caring enough to notice this as Terra obediently put a shaky hand in the goat monsters outstretched paw immediately.

“See?~ That wasn’t so difficult, now was it? Now, please don’t make me raise my voice again. I simply want to give the both of you a better place to rest than these dingy halls but disobedience like that will not be tolerated, understood?.

Both Mira and Terra reluctantly nodded, the pair of humans seeming to have come to the conclusion separately that this monster was off her rocker a little too late in the game....

“Excellent!~ Now, let’s head home and I can tell you all you wish to know about the Ruins over a delicious slice of Snail Pie and tea~”.

#undertale fanfiction #a03 fic

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sodrippy · 4 years

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tagged by the ever lovely @adamsveins to share some good things that happened in 2020! this year has been so long and blurry and all of these things are actually mostly wrapped up in each other but whats life if not a little codependent

dnd!! not to be a nerd from 1982 but litchrally life-changing im so grateful to be part of this team and campaign and i love the world and characters so much! we’re across continents so theres really no other year this would even have worked hfdcjn

related to dnd ive been SO creative this year, ive written a tonne thanks to my stupid messy bad-at-socializing oc for whom i rewrite session scenes so i can understand and share her pov bc she. is not good at externally expressing things like a normal person fhdjndjc. and then in that too i collaborate SO MUCH with ellian and their oc and its become such a fun project to continue, as well as coming up with random fun AUs and stuff. plus ive just stumbled upon a bunch of really fun cool oc concepts just by being in that headspace which has been dope! and ofc now im writing an actual proper fic for the first time in years and it has a PLOT which has not happened in like 10 years fhdcjncnx you love to see it

vallian nation babey! im SO glad to have cemented friendships this year through a gc of curated mewchuals (that eventually became dnd) and through mdzs osmosis (the way ive been mewchuals w people for years but never interacted as much until now is wild and i love u guys so much) but truly like. the vallian nation of it. cannot articulate the energy and the iconism

ive been to the beach a lot more than i ever used to go and its been the best like. i live about 50 minutes through toll roads from the beach and parking is a bitch so i usually just. dont go. but i love it so much and im so glad that driving to work through tollroads desensitized my parents and i from the $$$ ghdfjfdjcn

this doesnt really count i guess bc the majority of my contract was last year but i am still so so thankful and happy i got my job at AL, it was a really incredible experience and i met some really fun people and became a lot more social and confident just from being around them!!

cant believe i forgot this but i knit my first pair of socks this year, and i finally took up embroidery, and even though i stopped doing both those things bc i started a new job, it was incredibly refreshing and liberating to just pick up a hobby and not beat myself up for not sticking with it or not being really good at it! yes i have issues in my brain, so what? anyways it was super fulfilling and fun and i would love to get back into it once i have depressing amounts of free time again!

if you wanna think about some glimmer of nice thing that happened for you this year say i tagged you and tell us about it!!

#this year HAS also been fucking Hell at some points but what else is new right fbhdcndhbcxn #im going to finish my contract buy a drum set and learn that for 2 years and then join a band and profit #yes thats a good plan i know right!

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kingofdirtandnothing · 3 years

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@polyfacetious big ass Christmas Drabble Extravagaza: Day Seventeen

Dean isn’t even sure he believes in God.

That sure as shit doesn’t stop him from showing up at the church every day. He sits in the silence of the times between services, surrounded by warm wood and golden light. The quiet in here doesn’t feel as drowning as it does back in his apartment. Sometimes, Dean felt like this was the only place he could really take a deep breath and be.

It was something about the way the place was built. The idea that people sat in these exact same spots hundreds of years ago, looking for guidance or comfort. No matter how bad things got, this church was still here. Still standing.

No matter how low Dean got, no matter how many days he spent in bed or didn’t brush his teeth or forgot to eat, the church would always be here.

“Hello, Dean.”

And maybe there’s another reason he keeps sticking around here. Not that he’s ever going to admit that out loud. Dean tosses a little smile over to the man who sits down next to him on the pew, even though the whole damn place is empty.

The first time it happened, it set Dean’s teeth on edge. Like the guy was trying to make him uncomfortable (he was succeeding) or to run him off (no way was he succeeding). But he figured out real fast that it was just Cas being Cas. The man had no concept of personal space. Your bubble didn’t exist in Cas’ world. Dean was starting to like it.

When you got used to people keeping their distance from you, even the odd duck at the church who sat close to you felt like intimacy. “Hey Cas.” Dean keeps his voice pitched low, riding the edges of a whisper. They weren’t bothering anyone, but there was just something about this place. Something solemn and old that Dean didn’t want to disrupt with his loud ass voice. “How are you doing, man?”

Cas smiles at him, a slow and steady thing that makes Dean’s heart do stupid flips in his chest. It was weird, it wasn’t like Cas didn’t smile all that often. He smiled all the time. But there was something about it that felt special every time that Dean saw it. “I was going to ask you the same thing.” Sometimes, talking to Cas was like talking to a brick wall. And sometimes, it was like talking to a bulldog with a bone. Polite conversation wasn’t something he did. If he wanted to know something, he asked. And didn’t back down until you answered. Some days, Dean loved it. Some days, Dean hated it. The jury was still out about where he was standing in the road today.

“I’m doing good.” Mostly. Dean sighs, and sees the doubt in those pretty blue eyes. Cas was good at being gently judgemental, and without any words. “I’m hanging in there.” That’s the truth. Today was one of those days where getting out of bed wasn’t so easy. Dean had spent a good half hour just staring at the white paint strokes on the ceiling of his apartment, trying to will his body to do anything but feel like sludge.

He got there. Eventually. Which meant dragging his sad carcass out of bed and changing the Metallica t-shirt and sweats he’d been wearing for the last three days. A shower had been too much of an effort, so Dean slapped on deodorant and washed his face in the sink. You had to take what you could get, some days.

Cas smiles at him, and Dean will tell himself ninety nine times out of a hundred that the smile was the reason he admitted this stuff at all. The other time out of a hundred, he might actually admit to himself that it felt good to be able to tell somebody how he was feeling. “Now.” Dean jabs him in the shoulder with his index finger and gets a huff of laughter for his trouble. “How are you, Cas?”

Cas reaches down to tug on the sleeve of the sweater he was wearing over his button down shirt. With anyone else, Dean would have called it a nervous gesture. But Cas seemed like the kind of guy who was rarely nervous. “I’m well, thank you.” And he definitely wasn’t the type to lie. Not even little white lies to protect someone’s feelings. A fact Dean learned firsthand a few weeks ago when Cas sat down next to him on this very same pew and told him he looked awful.

From Cas, it wasn’t a jab at Dean’s cleanliness or the fact that he’d been a little far past a haircut. It had been a moment of worry from someone who cared about him. Dean was pretty sure that if Cas wasn’t so damn pretty that all these heavy handed conversations would land a little harder.

Lucky for him, Cas was very pretty. Like, unnaturally pretty. It was distracting, honestly.

“Glad to hear it.” Cas was better at silences than Dean was. One settles over them as they sit, Dean lacing his hands together over the top the pew in front of him. Cas keeps his hands in his lap, shoulders nice and loose. Maybe he didn’t get lost in his head the same way Dean did. He couldn’t help but wonder what that was like. Not getting lost in the exhaustion and the worry that circled in his brain what felt like twenty four seven.

Must be nice, that was for sure.

“There is a summer festival they have here.” Cas knew that Dean had only been here a couple of months now. And with the way the down swings hit him, he hadn’t explored more than a few blocks from his place. The church was only around the corner from Dean’s place, and sometimes it took all the energy he had just to drag his ass over here and sit down.

“Yeah?” Maybe it’d be close enough that Dean could see the decorations and stuff outside of his window. That’d be a nice thing to wake up to. Bright colors flapping in the wind and the sound of music and people laughing.

“Yes.” Cas nods. “There are booths where people sell food. I don’t think there are any pies, but I know there are donuts and other sweet things.” Dean huffs a quiet laugh of his own. He’d made a comment once about liking pie, and Cas had taken it to heart.

“That sounds awesome.” Dean’s gotten pretty good at making all the right noises at the right times. He’s had lots of practice when Sam calls. Sam tells him about his law practice and his pretty deaf wife and their struggles with conception and Dean makes all the right noises so that Sam doesn’t think about asking about Dean’s life.

“I’d like you to go with me.” Those words snap Dean right out of his train of thought and he turns to look at Cas, wide eyed. This was a change of pace. The way things were, they sat here together, they talked in hushed whispers and they went their own ways. Dean didn’t give Cas his number, and Cas didn’t give Dean his. Their relationship existed solely within the confines of this church, even if you could call it a relationship. Dean was hesitant to even use the word friendship. And now he didn’t know what the hell was being asked of him. And which one would be worse.

Would it be worse to kill this budding friendship on the off chance of a spark? Or would it be worse for Dean to go places with Cas and sit and stew in the feeling taking hold in his chest and never say a word about it?

“Cas-” It comes out like a warning, and for the first time, Dean sees nervousness in those deep blue eyes. But Cas, he was strong. He wasn’t the kind of guy who was going to back down. Dean always envied that about him.

“No, Dean.” This is soft, just like the hand that reaches out to cup over Dean’s where they’ve fallen useless into his lap. “I know these kinds of declarations make you uncomfortable, but I’m not going to change the subject.”

“Geez.” Dean laughs nervously, his heart pounding a loud tattoo against his ears. “Call a guy out, why don’t you? Isn’t that cutting a little close to the quick?”

Cas doesn’t rise to the bait, and Dean thinks maybe he’s grateful that he didn’t. Cas takes a deep, audible breath, steeling himself before he speaks again. “I enjoy our talks. You’re my friend, and I want what’s best for you. But I have to say something.”

Oh shit, here it is. Dean can feel his hackles raising. He can smell a well meaning, but misguided intervention from a mile away. Hell, the last time this happened he was living back in the states with Benny. Dean took that talk so badly that he moved across the ocean just to get away from it.

Dean starts to pull his hands away, but Cas’ grip tightens, keeping Dean’s hands pinned against his knee. “I care about you, Dean. And I want to keep our friendship. But I can’t keep going on without telling you how I feel.”

Wow. Well, okay. That was not what Dean was expecting. He swallows, a little white around the eyes like a spooked horse, but still pinned to the spot by Cas’ gravel voice. “This isn’t where I saw this going, if we’re being honest.” Yeah, there’s that half manic nervous laugh again. Cas knew him. Cas knew all his bullshit and his depression. How could he still want that?

“Dean.” He’s never known anybody else who could help curb the tide of rising anxiety in his chest with a single word like Cas could. “I care about you. And I’d like you to come with me to the summer festival.” There’s an awkward beat there, Cas working up his nerve. “Romantically.”

“Like a date?” Romantically made it sound like so much more than a date. Like there was weight behind it. (Dean liked the sound of ‘romantically’ a lot better than he liked the sound of dating.)

“A date.” Cas nods, solemn and sweet as ever, and not for the first or the damn last time, Dean wonders what it would be like to kiss him. Just to feel the pressure of lips. Maybe he’d get to feel the way a smile felt on Cas’ lips, up close and personal.

He could have that, maybe. If he manned up and went to the summer festival with him. “I’d like that. I’d like it a lot, actually.” Dean can’t let himself think about the next low swing or what he’d do if the festival happened on a day he had a hard time getting out of bed.

“I’ll come to you. Early. That way, if you’re having one of your bad days, we have plenty of time to help you feel well enough to go.” Cas answers, like he’s reading Dean’s thoughts in neon above his head.

It was enough to make his throat tight. Dean had never had anybody before who saw him, and wanted to stick around. He was a handful on his good days. For Cas to know how low he got and still want to go out with him? That was huge. And planning for a low swing? That was more than icing on the cake. That was a whole other damn cake.

Dean feels warm, right beneath his sternum. It’s a feeling he hasn’t felt since before they buried his dad, all those years ago.

It was hope.

“Guess that means I should give you my address and my cell number.”

Cas’ grip on his hands finally loosens, but he doesn’t pull away. He brushes his thumb over the ridges of Dean’s knuckles and smiles.

“I guess you should.”

#ch: dean #polyfacetious | cas #v: expats row #queued #carlota's christmas drabbles

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mooifyourecows · 4 years

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Hi! I was wondering how you stick to writing a story? I've always written a lot, but could never get past a few hundred words before dropping it. I have so many ideas for fics that I'd like to write, but I can't seem to follow through to the end.... Any advice?

No creator finishes 100% of the projects they start, so don’t beat yourself up about this. It’s a very real struggle that everyone goes through, so you’re definitely not alone!

I have dozens of stories that never made it past the early stages of writing and others that didn’t even get past the brainstorming stage. And it’s definitely frustrating, especially when you’re really in love with an idea but your brain just doesn’t want to cooperate with you.

I’m not sure if there is any perfect advice that can be given for this specific thing. Everyone deals with the lack of motivation and inspiration differently and what works for me might be useless to you.

Personally, the best way for me to get into the headspace of a story is to expose myself to it in any way possible. I’ll spend time thinking about it throughout the day, when I’m doing the dishes or going on a walk or driving to the store. One of the first things I do when I begin brainstorming a new story is create a playlist for it, so when I’m trying to get into the story enough to write it, I’ll listen to the playlist as much as possible. I’ll try to think up scenarios or backstory or character traits. If I’ve written any of it yet, I’ll reread what I have so far.

I expose myself to the story until I feel like I absolutely have to write some of it or I’ll go crazy.

Sometimes that doesn’t work though. Sometimes I’ll be ridiculously determined to write something but just.... can’t.

But in my journey in trying to cure my “never finish anything” disease, I’ve realized a few things about myself and my writing process.

Sometimes I’ll drop a story just because I can’t get past one tiny speed bump. It’s usually just one troublesome scene that I, for the life of me, cannot figure out how to progress. It’s never anything huge or complicated... I just can’t get the words out that take the characters from here to there. This frustrates me to the point that I toss the story to the side with the idea that I’ll pick it up later, but later comes and the problem hasn’t magically disappeared. To get over this, I literally just... force myself to write SOMETHING. Even if it’s really stupid, just absolute garbage that sounds and looks bad and doesn’t make sense. It doesn’t matter. Once I get over the speedbump, I’ve opened up the road to keep writing and even if it’s a little rocky at first, eventually I’ll get into a groove again.

Other times, I’ll drop a story because I’m trying too hard to write a final draft instead of my first draft. I’ve always been a perfectionist, and I often wind up super depressed and discouraged because I feel like I’m never putting out the quality of content that I should be putting out. Fanfic has been incredibly freeing for me because through it, I’m able to force myself to be content with what I have. Nothing I write is perfect and it’s definitely nowhere near what I want or expect from myself, but I post it anyway, and people seem to really like it. It’s validating to offer what my low self-esteem is SURE is garbage to people and have them take it and call it art.

It’s been a challenge, but I’m learning how to accept that a first draft is supposed to be messy and ugly and just... shit. When I understand and accept this, words come easier. I can write garbage and know it’s garbage without feeling like the fact that it’s garbage makes it not worth writing. I can write garbage because eventually I’ll recycle it into something people want to read. I don’t have to worry about making all my sentences sound good because I’m the only one who will be reading this draft. I don’t need to worry about sounding repetitive. I don’t need to stress over my inability to write descriptions. In the beginning, all I have to do is put words, any words, on paper. There’s always time to fix it later.

Uhhmmm I really don’t think I have any other advice than that? Just... force yourself over the tiny speedbumps and don’t be scared to write garbage.

Let yourself be a bad writer! That’s honestly one of the most important things I think writers ought to learn. Nobody is spitting out final drafts on their first run through. If they are... well point me in their direction. I have a heart to eat and powers to absorb.

Writing is hard.

So hard.

One of the most validating moments in my life was when my brother, who has always been better than me at EVERYTHING, a legit natural born genius who can pick something up and force himself to master it through pure willpower, tried to write a novel and gave up almost immediately. I swear I almost started crying when he looked at me and said, “Writing is so hard. How the hell do you do it?”

Be kind to yourself.

Let your writing suck.

Stress begone, you’re doing great and I’m very proud of you. <3

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whatevenismyaestheticidk · 4 years

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Things I’ve heard high schoolers say pt 3

Person: it’s to early for me to be alive right now

Teacher: who invented math? Student: Lincoln.

Teacher: You feel as if you get low marks on this 5 paragraph essay you’ll end up poor and homeless and addicted to drugs. Student 1: Yes. Student 2: That’s exactly how it works. Student 3: I mean… you’re not wrong.

Student: It’s called panic and I do it well. I do it very well.

Student 1: I need to get glasses. Student 2: I need to get a will to live.

Student: Physics eats brains for lunch and sucks ass for dinner.

Student: Fuck you Perry the platypus!!

Student: he’s an Asian white supremisist. How does that even happen.

Teacher: After treating him like dirt for 7 years what is he to me? Student 1: Friends? Student 2: Lovers?

Teachers: We can’t have poor people running the place, that’s stupid.

Teachers: It was illegal to be alone because when you are alone you commit a sin.

Student: They play with your intestines? Like jumprope???

Student 1: you make me want to kill myself Student 2: Bitch please! I’ve been making myself want to kill myself for years.

Teacher: If you’re in my class don’t be acting the fool

Student: that’s it! You’ve lost your titty privileges

Student: I have the bladder of an octopus please let me go to the bathroom

Teacher: America broke up with Britain through text and by telling all of their friends but not actually telling Britain.

Student: my peripheral vision up is about as good as a fucking snail’s.

Student: I am allergic to myself.

Student: she brought my coconut juice. I’m going to cry.

Student: my name is Bitch.

Student: my elevator is literally a vsco girl

Student 1: what do you think? Student 2: I think I’m a fucking slut.

Student 1: I look like a lightbulb Student 2: A cute lightbulb. 10/10 would screw you (in)

Teacher: No one likes Axe, but its your friend.

Student: I am a flaming homosexual and that is why I want to dye my hair pink in honor of the women that I love so much

Student: oh my god it’s Michael fucking Jackson! *screams*

Student: Im 16 but not even very much 16.

Teacher: Theres a reason my cousin Neil trades three shifts of paramedic work so he doesn’t have to work on the night of the full moon.

Student: I know it sounds scary running from the police but it’s actually just leisurely walking away from them.

Student: I was washing my hands after lunch and this guy just started bleeding out next to me.

Student: I’m just saying, I would wear a full out prom dress to school and no one could stop me.

Student: I have the strength of a roasted peanut.

Student 1: Avacodo’s are thicc though. If there was a sexiest food event then avocado would win hands down. Student 2: what about peaches Student1: I would 100% fuck an avocado.

Student: chicken nuggets re the dad bod of the food world.

Student: in conclusion: gay.

Student: Hey Mr (Teacher) can you please elaborate on your outfit choice today?

Teacher: Dueling? You know the 10 paces fire? The thing that Hamilton is known for but he was a lot better at?

Teacher: Dreams are kinda wack Student: But this is another level of wack.

Student 1: Im just saying you could totally suck a dick by mistake. Student 2: How? Student 1: Like if you’re watching a movie and he’s holding a soda bottle between his legs and you want a sip but it’s dark you could totally accidentally suck a dick.

Student 1: hurry the fuck up Student 2: that is not how you treat people, you need to have some respect. You say PLEASE hurry the fuck up.

Student: You know, Stockholm syndromes. Like when someone is kidnapped and then catches feelings for their master, daddy kinks, that kinda shit.

Student: IF I were to eat Donalt Trump’s ass it would be so white I’d get retinal cancer just from looking at it.

Student: You were texting her which made us loose the quizlet live game! She is a whore!

Teacher: you’re a dirty old man, you read the script

Student: you’re my hwb. Homies with benefits.

Student 1: I’m a shell 2: I’m a crab. 3: what do crabs do to shells 2: I’m going to go live and eat inside you then eventually leave you for another

Student: Ayyyy!! We’re getting mono!!

Student: Stop catching feelings you dumb emotionally suicidal bitch!!!!

Teacher: *Student’s name* you need to find friends who love you.

Student: Is that a kneecap? *fake cough* Slut. *fake cough*

Teacher: Yah Buccanan was our first gay president. Student: But he was a Democrat! Teacher:… you DO know that people can be gay and a democrat.

Student: This whole book was just a giant KFC commercial.

Student: he other day I tried to zoom in on a book.

Student: every time I head an Indian person talk it’s like they’re raping me but in a good way.

Student: You canned corn of a human.

Student: you look like a broken piano

Student: There’s no room for Jesus! I don’t want to see him!

Student 1: Tiger sharks are the goats of the ocean. Student 2: Wrong. I’m the goat of the ocean.

Student: Florida is the Bermuda Triangle of stupid shit.

Student: Jesus has a plan for me, and I don’t think it’s in his textbook of an agenda.

Student: did you talk to her? Because I’m pretty sure blowing up a school is frowned upon.

Student: and that’s on period no tampon.

Student 1: what would your stripper name be? Student 2: Ruby. Teacher who over heard: Excuse me. Teacher here, stripper conversation over there. Please move the inappropriate conversation somewhere where I can’t hear it. Vanilla Pudding. (the thing about this one, was she was telling us that in the past, her stripper name was Vanilla Pudding)

Student: (Different student’s name), if I told you that I was possessed last night would you believe me?

Student: (Teacher) I was possessed last night, is there, like, biology to support that?

Student: Could I theoretically live forever if I drank infinite 5 hour energies.

Teacher: I have more glue sticks I just don’t put them out because the freshman eat them.

Student: drinking chocolate milk isn’t good for you it just like tragic.

Student: who do people even get stds, I can’t even get dms

Student: Tell me you’re kidding. Tell me you did not find my house by looking at snap maps. YOU HAVE MY ADDRESS!!!

Student: Hey you lived in Africa right? Does that mean you can say the n word?

Student: Someone threatened to open up my chest, piss in it, and close it back up.

Student: For how good I am at catching feelings, you’d think I’d be better at sports.

Student 1: I’m a Taurus. Student 2: I thought you were gay.

Student: So if I ate a tide pod then ate a t-shirt what would happen?

Student: Buddhism is just a series of vibe checks until eventually one works.

Student: why does bugs bunny have so much cleavage??

Student: Don’t underestimate snoopy you fucking heathen.

Teacher: So what you’re saying is when the okay boomer generation dies we won’t be racist anymore?

Student: Venus is in retrograde and that’s why Im not dealing with your bullshit.

Student: What is wrong with you. No sincerely. What made you think that eating a green banana is okay.

Teacher: You know Up? In the movie there’s this dog and when he’s talking then he’ll turn and say squirrel. That’s like me. I think I have adhd.

Student: you absolute tea drinking taxes liberal.

Student 1: if you see my cat run. She’s psycho. Student 2: Can I run her over with my tires?

Student 1: I will drive us through the gates of Shaw and into the water. Student 2: I hope we blow up underwater.

Student 1: Juxpositioning my rain boots with my lingerie. Student 2: those rhyme. Wait no they don’t!

Student: when he says he has a tenor recorder, but really we all know he only has a soprano recorder.

Student 1: you’re shoelaces are untied Student 2: I know. I hope I trip on it and die. Student 3:I felt that

Student: Every time I see a 9/11 ad I always pretend to have a panic attack.

Students chanting: Eat the rich. Eat the rich. Student 2: Rich, more like Bitch.

Student 1: UWU I’m going to lock you in my gas chamber Student 2: Primes flame thrower UWU

Student: I’m not Like other girls. I die on command

Studrnt1: Turkey bitch Student 2: she just called you a turkey bitch Student 1: yes you specifically are a Turkey bitch

Student: I will eat a bitches dick. Gobble gobble motherfucker.

Student 1: he opens my snaps in 10 seconds Student 2: that’s love

Student 1: My for you page is almost exclusively gays, theatre, and Percy Jackson at this point. Student 2: Those are all the same thing basically.

Student: I would have kicked so much ass freshman year if I wasn’t depressed.

Student: Navy blue is the white kid who thinks he can say the n word of the color world. He thinks that he’s black.

Student: Your nose hairs look fragrant. Would you mind if I took a taste?

Student: Boxed water tastes like what I imagine trader joes to taste like as a water.

Student: The water from Moana would be a gentle lover.

Student: we feast tonight brother. I found this in the trash can.

Student: Okay, but I cry myself to sleep BETTER than you.

Student: Can you Venmo me some titties please?

Girl holding hands with another girl: It’s a good thing we’re dating otherwise this’d be pretty gay.

Student 1: I just wanted to know if you knew Lincoln personally. Teacher: What? Student 2: We think you’re a time traveler.

Student 1: Sweetie, you’re having a breakdown over rocks. Student 2: I really hate that class!!!

Student: I love being the joker when we play chess

Student: are you saying that you finger fuck your eurethra?

Student 1: Honestly sometimes I just go onto that lofi hip hop radio, beats to relax/study to thing and just get into a fight with someone in the comment section. It’s fantastic. Student 2: Sometimes they do give good advice though, once I asked if I should ask out this guy and they responded with “No, guys ain’t shit” and I was like “aight you right, you right” Student 3: Sometimes it gets weird though, like once I went on and everyone was talking about how sex and money have become the new gods of our time, and how someday a future generation will die without ever seeing the light of the sun. Student 1: Okay but are they wrong though?

Student: It doesn’t matter if you’re a boy or a girl or something in between or something else entirely. A bitch is a bitch, and you sir, are a bitch.

Student 1: so last night I killed and area few of your kids, I hope you don’t mind. Student 2: nah I don’t really care.

Student: what size pussy your phone got?

Student 1: I listen to songs about Greek gods and being polyamorous Student 2: I listen to songs about... smashing.

Student: Motzarella cheese is the pastel pink of the cheese world.

Student: Someone who can bench press 200 has nothing on someone that can just double fist eat Costco sized pound blocks of cheddar cheese.

Student: I will drag you down to hell and make the devil give you therapy so help me. Student: You see, we don’t conjugate words in English, much less math.

Students: well the thing about gamers is, you know they’re good with their hands.

Student: Oka first of all, we’re all on the same planet, so that’s already real small. Then, what are the chances that we were born the same species, like I could have been born a platypus. I could have been a mealworm. Then the chances that we’re in the same country then the same state then the same school like damn. Imma just vibe now.

Student 1: You’re built like a baked bean Student 2: IDK why that hurt me so much but it did.

Student: If I don’t get a hug in the next 10 minus, I’m going directly to the pentagon to tell Trump to suck my dick.

#funny thingsi'veheardhighschoolerssay highschool student teacher swearing newatthis

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