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blaqcats-fics · 7 months

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The Deepest Sighs, the Frankist Shadows

STWG DRABBLE

prompt: rehab warnings: billy hargrove as an asshole, rehab, use of homophobic slur towards Steve note: this is an altered excerpt from a wip in progress

“You shouldn’t smoke.”

Eddie Munson scoffed, flicking his cigarette. He watched as the smoke moved through the air, fading away. He glanced at the boy standing next to him, the one who made the comment.

“It’s none of your damn business what I do,” Eddie grunted, taking another long drag and making the intent to blow the smoke towards the stranger’s direction, but the air made the smoke drift off away from the boy’s face.

“You’re right,” the boy said, shrugging. “It’s not my business.”

Eddie spared him a long glance, taking him in. The stranger was attractive, but that was all Eddie was willing to give him. The boy already put himself on Eddie’s shit list by being rude and not minding his business. That didn’t mean Eddie couldn’t take a moment to admire him, however. The boy, whoever he was, had a head of wavy, curly brown hair with strands of pink highlighting the brown. He had a nose piercing that seemed to be hidden away from his onslaught of freckles and moles. He dressed like a grandpa, though, which was weird — a yellow sweater, a white blouse underneath, and a pair of khakis with the world’s ugliest shoes.

“Are you here for the group too?”

Eddie glanced at him, narrowing his eyes as he dropped his cigarette to the ground, using his boot to ground it out. He glanced at his watch, sighing. He hoped that this dude wasn’t one of the counselors. The boy looked too young to be, but Eddie could never be too sure. A lot of people looked younger than they were these days, or older than they are.

“What’s it to you?” Eddie asked. He pushed his hands into the coat of his leather jacket, glancing away from the boy. He’d rather be curled up in his trailer getting high, maybe work on some songs for his band, then maybe pass out for a while.

“I’m Steve,” the boy introduced, holding his hand out.

Eddie stared at his hand but made no attempt to shake it. “Sure,” he said.

Steve dropped his head, laughing awkwardly. “Okay, well, see you in there, man.” He gave Eddie a small smile, before walking past him and disappearing into the building, leaving Eddie alone with his thoughts once more.

Eddie glanced down at the butt of the cigarette he stumped out, letting out a low groan. He wished that he had smoked a joint instead of a lousy piece of tobacco he had stolen from Wayne’s pack. Maybe he should have downed a beer before he came, that could have helped his edge, but that was why he was here. He had unhealthy coping mechanisms and had been forcefully made to attend these group therapy sessions by both his Uncle Wayne and the lovely judicial system of Hawkins, Indiana. He would have bailed, but unfortunately, Eddie needed therapy both because it was court-ordered and because he needed extra credits to finally graduate from high school. He was on his third go-around, and he couldn’t afford to keep wasting his days in a school full of assholes.

He pushed himself off the brick wall, moving his hands out of his pocket and rubbing his face, blinking away any tiredness. He could do this. He could smile, laugh, and pretend everything was okay. He had to do this for himself and for Uncle Wayne. He had promised his uncle after all, and Eddie had a good motive outside of his uncle.

Eddie walked to the double door, pushed it open, and stepped inside the Youth Center. The heat of the building caused a small sweat to break out on his brow, but it was to be expected from the sudden change in temperature. It was mid-winter outside, and inside it was like summer all over again. Looking around, Eddie was surprised to see how well-kept it was, but it was a short-lived feeling. He wouldn’t be here if it hadn’t been for Al.

Al was Eddie’s father, a piece of shit scumbag who had waltzed back into town and broken Eddie’s world apart for a third time. Now, Rory was sitting in a cell somewhere, rotting, and Eddie couldn’t have been happier about it. Eddie hated the man to his core and every time he thought of his father, his blood boiled. Rory Munson was the last person that Eddie needed to think of.

Taking a deep breath, Eddie walked into the common room, trying his best to not draw attention to himself — which was a difficult thing to do when he looked the way he did. The common room was warmer than Eddie was expecting for a place where shrinks worked. The room was painted in a soft green color, with couches and chairs spread around the room. There were bookshelves, which Eddie took note to look at. Maybe they’d have a copy of the Hobbit or maybe something from Lovecraft. Moving past inspecting the interior, Eddie found himself looking over the other kids that were already there. Steve was sitting in the far back of the room, chatting with a blonde girl who looked like she hadn’t slept in a week. Across from them, on the other side of the room was a face that Eddie didn’t expect to see, and it wasn’t a warm feeling.

“Billy,” Eddie gritted out, causing the blond to look his way, sneering back at him. They both went to the same high school, and it was common knowledge to anyone who knew either of them, was a simple fact that they hated each other. Billy was everything Eddie despised.

“Wish I could say it’s a surprise seeing you here, freak,” Billy smirked, standing from where he sat. “Though, I think you forgot to take the turn to the prison in Greensville.”

Eddie narrowed his eyes, “Laugh it up, Hargrove. Bet you wish that’s where your daddy was.” He could feel everyone’s stare and did what he could to avoid it. He wished Billy hadn’t been here. It would have made sinking into the shadows easier, but Eddie never said he had an easy life.

Billy, however, noticed Steve and the girl’s gaze. “The fuck you looking at, fag?” he snapped, sneering towards Steve. Eddie didn’t miss how Steve flinched before a cloud of grief briefly crossed his face. He watched as the girl grabbed his shoulder, squeezing it, but with an angry expression, she didn’t say anything.

“Shut the fuck, Hargrove. You’re one to talk,” Eddie snapped before he could stop himself. “I heard Tommy H gets you off in the locker room on Thursdays.”

Eddie could feel Steve’s surprised glance, but he ignored him, focusing on Billy’s now red face. “The fuck did you just say, Munson? You have a death wish?” he growled, walking towards him, his lip curled up into a snarl.

“You heard what I said,” Eddie snapped. “Takes one to know one, right?”

“I’m going to fuc—,” Billy’s voice was cut short when the door opened and an older woman walked through the door, her voice filling the room, and Eddie felt a wave of relief wash over him. He was always more bark than bite, and he knew arguing with Billy would bite him in the ass later on.

“Good morning!” the woman spoke, her voice filling the room. She had shoulder-length brown hair with strands of gray, reflecting her age. She had a clipboard tucked under her arm, and she had a kind smile. Eddie wondered if she was purposely ignoring the tension lingering in the air. “We’re waiting for just a few more people, and when they get here we can get started! Sit where you feel comfortable!”

Billy glared at Eddie before turning away and slumping in the seat he had been in previously. Eddie breathed, moving to sit on the window ledge, letting his head rest against the cool glass. He didn’t care if he indirectly outed himself. He could care less about people knowing he liked fucking other guys. Hawkins was a small town, so it wasn’t like he was actively fucking anyone in town because most people weren’t into that, but people made it a problem.

Not that Eddie cared. He had been pushed into walls, punched in the face, called a queer, anything a person could think of. He was used to it, even if he wished he wasn’t. Life was life, and Eddie had little control over how people viewed him. Billy had made himself a problem in Eddie’s life. It was a realization that Eddie had when he first moved to Hawkins years ago. Many people made Eddie’s life difficult, way more than Billy did. Jason Carver was another prime example, and he was just glad Jason was an ‘angel’ that he didn’t have to come to group therapy.

Fuck him, honestly.

Eddie had enough problems and didn’t need anymore, but he could easily tell that Steve would quickly become one. Eddie had a type, and Steve was that type, or at least close to his type. Actually, maybe Steve was far from his type. He seemed like one of those boys you would take home to your parents. Steve seemed like parents liked him. Eddie had always gone for quick and easy guys — one’s that he could easily forget the name of. Call Eddie a horrible person, but life had made it adjacently clear that happiness wasn’t in his cards. There was also the tiny fact that Billy was an idiot, and there was no way Steve was gay. Sure, the boy had pink highlights in his hair, but there was something that screamed ‘straight’ and ‘boy next door’ about him.

Eddie couldn’t give up his hopes over a pretty face, especially in Hawkins. He did want to keep whatever little reputation he had. Falling in love with a straight boy and being publicly humiliated was not in his cards. Not that his being publicly humiliated hadn't happened yet. He was in rehab (though the Judge labeled it therapy) for a reason.

The door that led into the room opened and closed, causing noise to fill the awkward silence lingering through the room. The last few people came into the room, and Eddie took a moment to examine the ‘newbies.’ The first person was a boy. He was tall and thin, but there was something about him that made Eddie feel uneasy. Maybe it was because the boy looked too clean and too put together. Next to him was a younger girl with buzzed hair and a blank stare. He noticed that she had ink on her wrist, but couldn’t make out whether it was a tattoo or a sharpie job. The two of them sat near the entrance, staying close together. It made Eddie wonder if they were siblings. The two barely looked anything like each other, but Eddie didn’t care enough to know if they were actually siblings or not. Walking past them was another girl, around Eddie’s age. She looked familiar, but Eddie couldn’t put a finger on who she was. She had shoulder-length hair that was light brown, and she had freckles adorning her face. She was wearing brown khakis and a tucked-in white blouse with a tie. Eddie knew immediately that she was a lesbian, and that was on functioning gaydars.

She sat next to Steve, and Eddie wondered how the two knew each other, but he didn’t have much time to wonder why she was familiar or her relationship with Steve.

“Good, it seems that everyone is here!” the older woman beamed, taking her clipboard from under her arms and glancing over it before nodding. “I’m Mrs. Byers, but feel free to call me Joyce. I want you all to feel comfortable during our time together for the next several weeks. I am aware that most of you aren’t here by choice, and I know that it will take a moment to adjust, but I hope that we can all work together and be respectful to everyone.”

Yeah. This was going to be just great.

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watusichris · 2 years

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Poets of the Fess Hotel

Today, through a chain of associations called up by a book about alcoholic writers, and then by a volume of John Berryman’s best known work, I found myself ratcheted back to the year 1971, when I briefly entertained the delusion that I could write poetry. I was actively encouraged in this futile pursuit by a friend named John Tuschen, who cited Berryman as his favorite poet.

In ’71 I was living in Madison, Wisconsin, and had recently dropped out of the university there, after experiencing a drug-induced breakdown in late 1970 that led to several weeks in a psychiatric ward at the campus hospital.

After a brief period spent licking my wounds at my mother’s apartment outside Chicago, I returned to “Madtown,” where I immediately returned, unburdened by school work, to doing what I had been doing: drinking and using drugs, enthusiastically. The psychiatric care recommended by the hospital did not seem like a particularly useful option, and potentially an endless one, so I dropped my shrink after three sessions.

My style of therapy took place in the warm confines of the 602 Club, the campus-adjacent bar on University Avenue that I had begun to frequent before my lockdown adventure. This saloon had become a main hangout for the local bohemians in training. I’d started going there when I was working in the acting company of Broom Street Theater, the local experimental stage. In the theater’s early days, John Tuschen had started up “The Camel, The Lion, and The Child,” its in-house literary magazine. We had gotten to be friends, and we both like to drink, so I’d roll down to the bar after a day’s work as a stock boy in the small corner market one block up the street. (My apartment, which I briefly continued to share with two college friends, was also nearby; we served as custodians in the building, and the rent was cheap.)

Tuschen looked like your average hippie, with a skinny frame and long, straight, lank hair. He looked at the world sharply through a pair of rheumy, often red eyes. He had the vestiges of a childhood speech impediment, and the slight hitch of a stutter gave his poetry readings a unique rhythm. We’d sit together in the 602 night after night, kibitzing, arguing, and people-watching in the narrow, overheated room over the joint’s trademark drinks, big cold glass schooners of beer, which washed down cheap bottom-shelf shots. Alcohol was our bond.

Invariably Tuschen would pull some new thing he’d written out of his pocket. He was a poet in the big Ginsberg style, and in the days we were closest he was hammering away at a long “Howl”-like jeremiad about America called “Your Muther’s Eye.” We would often be joined by another aspiring poet who called himself Hannibal Plath, a sweet, angelic-looking guy who broke the heart of just about every woman who crossed his path, and sometimes by my new flame Connie, a statuesque redhead from St. Petersburg, Florida, who had me utterly in her thrall.

These were heady times, and you wound up getting swept away by them. I went back to working sporadically at Broom Street, which was charitably housed in St. Francis House, the youth Episcopal center a few blocks up the street from the 602. The theater began to mount irregular “Bacchanals” — free-form evenings of theatrical vignettes, poetry readings, music, and what-have-you. (Into the latter category fell a premiere slideshow screening of Michael Lesy’s remarkable photo-essay “Wisconsin Death Trip,” later a famous book drawn from newspaper clippings and hellish photos shot in the late 19th century in upstate Black River Falls, which unspooled at the theater over a long, dark John Fahey guitar piece.) Tuschen and some of the other Mad City poets were invariable fixtures of the events. My theater mentor, director Joel Gersmann, also read; he had written his own volume of what he called “junk poetry,” titled “Deep Shit.”

  It was an anything-goes time, and, inspired by the company I was keeping, I started writing some poetry of my own. My stuff was never burdened by the larger demands of the form — it was free verse, unambitious self-expression, post-adolescent soul searching and bouquet-tossing love songs for my muse Connie (who was essentially my principal audience, if truth be told). My sense of rhythm was fair enough to keep the work aloft. Though it was little better than doggerel, Tuschen agreed to throw down the few bucks it cost to type up, lay out, and photocopy a couple hundred copies of a small book of my work, which I titled “Red Boots” (after my girlfriend’s favorite footwear) under his Quest Publishing rubric.

By mid-1971, I was chafing at my then-current living situation in a hippie pad off campus, where I witnessed the dramatic meltdown of one of my three roommates, a young, drug-crazed heiress we called “Spacey Gracie,” whose family had the police swoop in and drag her off to a private loony bin. Tuschen proposed that I move into an open room down the hall from his at the Fess Hotel.

  Located at 123 E. Doty St., a block and a half away from the state capitol that served as the city’s hub, the Fess was something of a local landmark. A residential hotel that had opened in 1854, it had been operated by the Fess family for four generations; 69-year-old Alice Fess, the wife of the current owner, was the building’s truculent manager.  

The place was then on the downward slope of its existence; at that point downtown Madison had gotten a little seedy, and it was surrounded by a number of bars and strip joints that catered to the state office workers and political lobbyists. Ironically, considering the amount of drinking that went on around and in the hotel in those days, one of the most famous Fess patrons in earlier times was the axe-wielding temperance crusader Carrie Nation. (Abraham Lincoln was said to have stayed there, but no one was ever able to confirm that for sure.) The place had a lobby where most hours you could find one of the older tenants dozing in a soiled chair or zoned out in front of an ancient TV set. Both the day desk clerk and the night clerk were walleyed, so communicating with the staff, who always seemed to be staring at something to your left, was a disconcerting experience.

I don’t think I paid more than $150 a month for a second-floor single at the Fess. Accommodations were unspectacular: The room contained an uncomfortable bed, a stained sink, a small closet, and a tiny, scarred desk in front of a window that looked out onto the grey street, where I tapped out my work on a turquoise Olivetti portable. I used the communal bathroom just outside my door, which was occupied competitively by the other tenants. Tuschen had a suite down the hall — he was the Fess pathfinder, after all — and Hannibal also had a room on my floor. For obvious reasons, Tuschen’s spacious room became the focal point for a considerable amount of drinking among the three resident versifiers, all of us living out our Beat Generation fantasies.

A couple of times, the university’s visiting professor of creative writing entered into this fantastical den, and he made his presence forcefully known. His name was George Barker. Though he is little known or remembered in America today, Barker was one of England’s great poetry prodigies of the 1930s. He was T.S. Eliot’s protégé, and William Butler Yeats was an admirer.

At 58, he was gaunt and lined; he was suitably dressed in tweeds, and displayed the waspish, razor-tongued manner of the old-school British intelligentsia. He was accompanied by a smart, auburn-haired, very beautiful young woman he introduced as his wife. But we did not know that Elspeth Langlands was not yet George Barker’s wife — his spouse Jessica, a Roman Catholic, refused to grant him a divorce. Elspeth had been introduced to Barker, who was 27 years her senior, when she was 22 by Barker’s longtime mistress Elizabeth Smart, who had tired of the poet’s violent, alcohol-fueled behavior (which she, an alcoholic and drug addict herself, had chronicled in a 1945 novel in verse, “By Grand Central Station I Sat Down and Wept”) and happily handed him off to a new partner.

Barker would huddle with Elspeth on the floor of Tuschen’s flat with a gallon glass jug of Annie Green Springs, the sickeningly sweet, cheap party wine, at his side. He would get hammered on the foul stuff, which was manufactured purely for effect, all night long, as he diced up the manuscripts that Tuschen and Hannibal would read aloud for him. The work of these young writers could not have been further from the well-manicured “New Apocalyptic” writing that had won him kudos three decades ago, and he had little patience with it.

  I never had the temerity, or the courage, to try out my jejune material on him, but one evening I made the mistake of reading Frank O’Hara’s “The Day Lady Died,” the New York poet’s shocked, moving reaction to Billie Holiday’s tragic demise.

  After I finished, he paused for a beat and said, “Dear boy, that’s pure shit.”

That cold dismissal of a writer I love essentially ended my poetic aspirations for good.

“Red Boots” was published in early 1972, and sold tepidly at the Madison Book Co-op, the hip book outlet that became Bukowski’s local sponsor. While I was already re-enrolled at the University of Wisconsin, I managed to get a chance to live out a couple of my poetry fantasies before I hung up my spurs for good. The school actually hired me to give a reading on campus; I was paired with Bob Watt, the snaggle-toothed, lecherous pest exterminator/folk artist/“art” photographer who was a local legend in Milwaukee. Incredibly, Tuschen also convinced the university library to purchase copies of the entire Quest catalog, and so today “Red Boots” resides in the UW’s rare books collection. (I do not anticipate any scholarly interest — it’s truly dreadful.) After my father died in 2002, I learned with amazement that he kept a copy of the book — which contained a poem about our strained relationship — in his office desk.

Mrs. Fess learned from her clerks that Connie had been stretching herself across my narrow hotel bed, so I was politely asked to vacate the premises of her none too clean but nonetheless respectable establishment, and I moved into my girl’s pad on Fraternity Row. The Fess, which became a popular downtown restaurant for 20 years after the family sold it in 1975, is still operating today as a gastropub. The building was added to the National Register of Historic Places in 1978.

We all went our separate ways. John Tuschen, who had titled one of his book “The Percodan Papers” after a favorite intoxicant, quit drugs and alcohol and became a drug rehabilitation counselor. In 1977, he was named the first poet laureate of Madison. He died in 2005; his longtime companion Suni asked me if she could reprint an honest but unflattering poem about him for a memorial volume, and of course I said yes, despite my misgivings about its quality. Hannibal left town, became a minister, and wrote a couple of spiritually themed self-help books. George Barker died at 78 in 1991, two years after he finally married Elspeth following the death of his wife. Elspeth Barker died at 81 in April of this year. A respected journalist, essayist, and novelist, she bore four of Barker’s 15 children.

Connie and I split up, then regrouped in Chicago, where we took root in a new bar on Lincoln Avenue. I began a protracted sidelong course to becoming a working journalist. I would learn that it was easier for me to write about what was in front of my eyes and ears than it was to chart the course of my heart. That great gift belongs to others.

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thethoughtsofhers · 1 year

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Larry

Mar 4. 22

The Lifeguard of Bikini Bottom.

My nickname from me that I gave you

Remember where it comes from or do you need a clue

Hope you know that name was always out of love from me

That day at the beach, me, you, and the dogs looking out into the sea

You told me about your past

Thinking I’d be the one to be your last

When our highs were highs but our lows were lows

Hope you understand this is not me trying to expose

The love I thought I once had

But boy did that shit end real fucking bad

Left me out in the cold, felt like I was cheated on

Probably was if I was replaced as soon as I was gone

Realized my value after you left

Now men just think I’m a motherfucking theft

Playing with their heart and wasting their time

Like I’m committing some kind of fucking war crime

Thought you cared about me, but you didn’t after all

Cause your actions always showed differently causing our downfall

After our fallout, you asked to be friends

Cause the guilt was eating at you to make amends

But after all that helping and the things that I did for you, I felt ashamed

I even burned all them letters and had those pictures unframed

Memories of us riding, smoking blunts to J. Cole

I tricked myself into thinking we were each other’s halves side by side within the soul

Remember that time where we thought we were gonna die?

Together in your car, that moment felt such a high

I knew from the bottom of my heart that I always cared

Had to go to therapy cause losing you had me impaired

Shout out to Usmania, she knows what she’s doing

I know she’s proud of me, after doing all that unscrewing

Took a number losses, but learned a large amount of lessons

Therapy was once a week, eternally grateful for those sessions

You kept telling me that I hate you

But how when at one point I thought it was just us two

I probably did say it and meant it at one point

But that's cause you was already with a new joint

Had devja vu even before you posted a picture with her

Said damn once I saw it, now I see who you really prefer

Already forgot about me, like I was just another option

Heard you, hope you enjoy your new brand of naproxen

Had me looking so fucking stupid

But glad to see you’re happy cause I’m like Eros, you know, cupid

My loyalty runs deep

It’s a personality trait that many and not even you can atone to keep

Getting these thoughts off my chest

Yet here I am, still praying for you, wishing you the best

You know you can’t ever attain to my level

Cause I’ve been focusing on self-growth while you’ve been drinking and partying like a devil

It’s kind of like you got away with doing what you did

Thoughts kept going to the darkest of places, God forbid

Looked at you and thought that’s unfair

Cause I felt like I was living in a nightmare

It took some time for me to move on

I wasn't reading the Bible when I was with you, but it’s crazy what’s said in the story of Babylon

Karma hit em like crazy, according to Christ, the greatest of all men was John

Even after the breakup, I was still hoping for some sort of miracle

That the nightmare was fake but reality crept in and turned me satirical

Looking back I realized we were kind of like my mom and dad

I wonder if you ever tell people if I was the best you ever had

Not looking for any external validation

But for some reason, the thought of it just gives me some sort of fixation

Silly of me for thinking no one will be able to have what I had with you

Isn’t it funny how I thought nobody would come between us two? Now don’t get the wrong idea, I’m not looking to compete

Past, present, future, ex, or next, I hope you treat the girl real sweet

Looking back I realize you weren’t even that great

I think we had unrecognized childhood trauma that put us through that state

So many red flags from you that I brushed under the rug

I said fuck when I realized while I was smoking with that drug

You entered my life to test me, to teach me, and to bring out the best in me

But, the best has yet to come for me and the story of us is now history

I did so much for you and it was all out of love

But I was told it’s something I should be proud of

In a sense, it’s true because it just shows how much I can give

Writing out these thoughts I guess with some sort of resolutive

Remember that day when you rushed us out of the bookstore?

I know it wasn’t your thing, but there was never a lot that I asked for

Of course there’s three sides to every story

Mines, yours, and the truth but it doesn't matter if our love went straight to the crematory

The saying goes, “Love goes both ways”

And little do you know I figured out your one street maze

Realized my potential after you gave me the farewell

Sometimes I wonder if I really put you through Hell

#poem #my poetry #writing

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strawberriianime · 2 years

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Intoxicating

cw: this story includes mature themes, mentions of sex and sexual acts, usage of drugs, drug addicts, and more. 18+ themes in certain parts .

Tokyo Rev, Euphoria based story

Previous and Next

It was a brand new school year, you had been attending rehab as well as therapy. You wanted to make your mother proud, and take some pain off of here. It's been a year plus since your father passed, you where 18 and doing better. Okay, you lied. Yes you've been going to therapy and rehab but old habits don't die that fast. You had woken up at 5:09 about 2 hours before school to get ready for a "session". Your mother would be gone by this time for work, and Tai was old enough to get up and figure her own way to school.

You grabbed a tiny backpack you used for special storage, your lighter and your phone. You slowly crept out your bedroom door, out into the living room and outside your home. Since your mom had to take care of you three, living conditions had changed but it wasn't too bad. Pulling out a blunt you rolled earlier, you began walking down towards this park where you know it would be empty. Flicking your lighter you dragged the flame along the blunt as it burned and began smoking. You took a hit, inhaling the smoke as you looked into the night sky. Nothing wrong with smoking a little weed. You resorted on mainly weed and where trying to stay clear of anything else.

"Aren't you up early?" a voice called out. It was a boy, about your age. White-pinkish hair that was long. He was had scars along the side of his mouth as well as shining blue eyes.

"Yeah, what about it?" you looked him up and down. One thing's a fact, nobody comes between you and a blunt.

"No need to get defensive...it's usually nobody here this time of night." he said sitting on a swing beside you.

He eyed the blunt you where smoking before reaching into his left pocket. He pulled out something wrapped into white paper. You raised your eyebrow slightly as he lit the joint as it began burning quite fast.

"Hit this, raw paper no blunt. Mixed with something exotic." he held it up to your mouth.

You slowly moved in closer allowing the object to touch your lips as you inhaled. Just as you did, you began coughing wildly slowly patting your chest.

"It's good shit, baby steps." he laughed as you caught your breath.

"What's your name?" you asked wiping your mouth with your jacket sleeve.

"Sanzu. You?" he said blowing out smoke.

"_____." you answered relighting the blunt you had earlier.

Your phone began buzzing as you pulled it out of your pocket.

"Shit! I gotta go before I miss the buss." you stood up, ashing the blunt as well placing it into the tiny bag from earlier.

"Maybe we'll meet again?" Sanzu said still slowly swinging on the swing.

"Maybe." you zipped you bag up.

"_____?" he stood up as you had began walking away. You had turned around as you saw him gripping something in the palm of his hand. He began walking toward you holding his hand out. You extended your own, opening your palm as you felt two tiny objects being placed in your hand. Pulling your hand back you, you opened your palm to see a round blue pill and a round purple pill.

"I can't take these." you said as you tried to give them back to Sanzu.

"I can tell you need to relax. I know all about you ____. I know more than you know." he stepped closer to your creating less than a inch of space between your two.

You knew it was wrong, no you know it was wrong. Yet you couldn't resist? It was intoxicating.

"Open up" he took the pills from your hand and placed them both on your tongue. You closed your mouth as his finger began to trace down your throat, stopping at the middle.

"Swallow" he said as you forced the two dry pills down your throat.

"Good girl. Now where's your phone." he said as he felt around for your phone. You felt the phone being slid out of your pocket as she turned it to face you, to unlock it. He began typing his number into you phone as you heard a slight ding.

"I hope to be seeing more of you later. You better hurry, and not miss the buss." he smirked passing you back the phone.

"SHIT!" It was 6:53, the bus comes around 6:55-7:00 and now you know for a fact Tai was up. She was def gonna question where you had been. You began running eagerly to you home most for sure making a new record.

Panting and just about wiped down in sweat you have just made it at 6:59. Your hand was on the door as the door suddenly swang open.

"Where the hell have you been." Tai asked.

"I was just going for a morning jog." you panted out.

"Please, you're the last person to run from fun." she crossed her arms.

"What the fuck where you doing." she huffed pulling out her phone.

"I was-" just as you began talking the buss began to pull up to your house.

"Welp, we gotta go." you shrugged making way to the buss.

#Intoxicating #tokyo revengers x reader #Tokyo Revengers #mikey #sanzu #sanzu haruchiyo #sanzu x reader #anime #draken #ran haitani #rindou haitani #bonten #mikey x reader #izana kurokawa #hanma #kazutora x reader #kazutora hanemiya #kazutora

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hakasims · 3 years

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Shitty Luca Movie Recap, Episode 5

The sooner I get this over with, the deeper my breaths will be, and the wider my smile. My friends, today we’re talking about

Slam aka Tutto per una ragazza

This film is about Samuele (who I’m gonna call Sam), a teenager whose entire personality starts and ends with loving skateboarding and idolizing Tony Hawk. Throughout the movie he reads his hero’s autobiography narrated by the man himself, and it’s incredibly annoying, especially because Tony Hawk’s California dude accent combined with the simplistic writing and shallow life lessons make him sound kinda dumb. Sam also has a giant poster of Tony Hawk that helps him time travel. Just go with it. I promise it won’t make sense in context, especially as a narrative device.

Another quirk of Sam’s life is his unusual upbringing. You see, his parents were 16 when they had him, and his grandma was 16 when she had his mom. And you’ll never guess what happens when Sam, who’s not yet 17 at the beginning of the movie, gets a girlfriend, Alice, and becomes sexually active. Speaking of which, skip this movie if you aren’t cool with watching teenagers have sex, including in real time as there’s a running joke about Sam climaxing too fast.

But yes, Sam gets Alice pregnant. You’d think at some point that family would have learned the importance of contraception instead of making jokes about being cursed. But listen, there’s a lot of shit here that I hate. I hate that no one suffers any consequences because Alice comes from a rich home, and Sam’s family is comfortably middle class, despite their history. I hate that Alice wants to keep the baby because she sees motherhood as one of those hobbies she used to start and immediately drop due to not being good at them instantly instead of working hard on improving. I hate that Sam’s decision to stick with her and become a 17-year-old father is seen as the only right and moral decision, even though pro-choice people pretty much agree that condemning a teenager to parenthood is bad, and the movie wastes its chance to have a rare talk about boys in this context. I hate that the film inexplicably parallels the teen pregnancy to Tony Hawk’s unexpected fatherhood at twenty-four and turns it into a movie about a quirky family where the age of the new parents is basically incidental.

I also hate that despite being moderately successful, Sam’s mom believes having a child ruined her life and dreams and constantly says that to his face - all the while remaining a cool mom. You know the type, right? Creative, messy, easily befriending younger people, listening to cool music and not worrying about being proper. I hate cool moms so much. A cool mom is just a manic pixie dream girl who never ended up finding her tortured artist. In Sam’s mom’s case, her ex is about as far from either tortured or an artist as one could get. And that finally brings us to Luca’s character: Sam’s father, Valerio.

Valerio is one of the shallowest characters Luca has ever played. He’s an egotistic man-child prone to aggression who has nothing of value to say or contribute... and yet he’s so much fun to watch. I guess when you aren’t attached to any of the characters, the sarcastic shithead whose attitude towards everything that’s going on kinda reflects yours becomes the only one you can relate to. And Valerio is absolutely a shithead. Want examples?

The first time we meet him is on the day of Sam’s 17th birthday. Like a true dad, Valerio is telling the story of the day his son was born; unlike any normal dad, he’s telling the story of how he missed his son’s birth because he’d forgotten to fill his moped’s tank and had to walk 10 km to the hospital. When Sam’s mom points out she’d been having a much worse day pushing the actual life out of her body, what do you think Valerio’s response is?

If you chose C, I promise you even more opportunities to have a laugh. For example, next scenario: Sam has done some stupid shit after learning Alice is pregnant, and his mother, who doesn’t know at this point, decides to have a family therapy session. She thinks Sam is acting up because of his parents’ separation.

See now why I love Valerio and why Valerio is basically me watching this movie? Here’s how this therapy session should actually have gone:

And then Valerio keeps spouting wisdom after he finds out Sam’s gotten his girlfriend pregnant and decided to stick with her:

But of course he’s supposed to be a terrible parent no one should listen to, so he says it while smoking a joint and after fully flashing his son in that bathrobe. I’m not joking. Also this:

O Valerio, why hath thou been written so badly?

But don’t worry, he isn’t a creep. He just doesn’t see Sam as his son. I mean, he knows Sam is his son, but he treats him like his bro. It’s almost like someone who became a father at 16 has no idea what acting like a parent means.

Here’s another example: after the birth of his child, Sam takes both him and his dad out to hang and play video games in some sort of bar/club/arcade/whatever the hell. Valerio notices some women looking at them. What do you think he says to Sam?

If you chose A or B, what’s it like being an optimist? And no, I’m not fucking with you with that last one.

Valerio is hella fun to watch because of how unself-conscious he is, and if you let go of the hope that this movie will ever become good or not infuriating, you’ll be able to enjoy Valerio’s sarcasm and his cynical outlook on this stupid, stupid plot. Valerio may not be the hero anyone wants or needs, but he’s the hero this movie deserves, and if you decided to watch it, you deserve him, too.

Which shitty movie with a shithead Luca should I do next?

#luca marinelli #slam #slam - tutto per una ragazza #sh*tty luca movie recap #slmr #long post

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fallenfurther · 3 years

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Homecoming - Earthbound

Chapter 2 of Homecoming. John and Jeff.

Thank you for the response to my first chapter and Josie will return later on as the story develops.. The next few chapters are set within the last episode of the series , between Jeff returning to the island and stepping out Thunderbird Two and him sitting down to take the rescue call. There is no way Jeff is fit and health after eight years alone in space, so these chapters fill in that recovery and continues as he finds his place within the family and organisation again.

This chapter is an emotional one, so trigger warnings for trauma, death, last wishes.

*********

Jeff placed his cutlery down on the empty plate, before leaning back into the cushioned back of the chair. The food was excellent, though anything was better than what he'd survived on for the past eight years. It helped that he knew there was no expense spared for his stay. It felt so strange but comfortable to feel full again and his body was feeling better for it. The nurse popped her head around the door and smiled.

"Want me to take the tray from you?"

"Yes please."

Lauren swished her way over to him, picked up the tray and left him alone. Jeff had various therapy sessions and doctors checking in on him and he welcomed the breaks from them. He just had to keep looking forward, knowing that the light at the other end was to spend the rest of his life with his sons. How he'd missed them. Each one imprinted in his mind, clear as day, spurring him on. They visited him when they could, though it depended entirely upon the number of callouts and if someone was fit enough to fly. International Rescue seemed much busier now than eight years ago. Eight years away from everything. So much had stayed the same and yet the important stuff had grown and changed. Particularly his little Alan. He was the smallest, just, but he'd matured, become more confident and was an amazing astronaut. Normally he would have been angry at Scott and the boys for letting someone so young fly Thunderbird Three. He'd always known the dangers of space. A teenager doesn't. But having seen Alan pilot Thunderbird Three, making her dance elegantly between asteroids, he understood. Alan had flown the Zero-XL to save him. The talent that boy had was incredible. How could Jeff deny the boy who followed so much in his own footsteps, who shared his passion for space? It pained him to know he hadn't been around to help nurture it.

Jeff forced himself out of his chair, joints complaining from his physiotherapy session that morning. The gravity in the Oort cloud had been variable but being back on Earth it had an intensity he could get no reprieve from. John had suggested a skint on Thunderbird 5, but the doctors insisted he have no Zero-G exposure until he was medically fit, insisting his body needed to adjust to gravity first. They also ruled out a trip in Thunderbird Three as the forces that would be applied to his still healing body would be too intense. Jeff was itching to witness Alan fly the Thunderbird first hand. Jeff opened the patio door and stepped out into the warm breeze and sunshine. He still had moments of panic when he realised he didn't have a helmet on, or when he realised it wasn't close by, but the fresh air transported him back to the time before he was stranded. Even now it didn't always feel real, being on Earth. Almost two months and he still had to pinch himself sometimes, still shed tears at the sight of his boys visiting. The small private garden attached to his room was a small haven where he could get used to the world again. He followed the path to the plant-laced wooden gazebo beneath which a table and chairs stood waiting. He took a stroll down the small path circling it, not quite ready to sit yet, the wind chimes tickling above him as he brushed his hand through the purple flowers, sending a wave of lavender in the air.

Eventually he had to sit down. His tablet was on the table where he'd left it that morning. Flicking it on, he pressed his thumb to the corner, activating International Rescue's secure network. John had willingly let him have access, walking him through the new filing system before letting him loose on it. Jeff was sure John or that little AI of his was monitoring every document he saw. He opened up yet another mission report, he'd started making a timeline of rescues, only for it to be completed by EOS, listing the main statistics such as time, craft used, and which sons were involved. The timeline was worrying. International Rescue had started off slow, only going to major rescues, however nowadays barely two days went by without a need to be called out. International Rescue had response times and equipment that outmatched local agencies, but it meant his boys were often being pushed to the limits. There were meant to be fail-safes in place and compulsory downtime to stop back to back working, but all that had been side-lined so lives could be saved. He'd started with the older reports and with each one his sons got better and more efficient at writing them, but he was starting to see their exhaustion. International Rescue hadn't been designed for the workload it was taking on and something was going to snap. Jeff feared it would be his boys. He'd just got them back and now he feared he'd lose one of them.

It was never meant to be this way. Jeff had expected a little increase in workload, but nothing like this. The GDF had tried to help, as he'd found out from the last report about their robots, but that had proved unsuccessful. He didn't want to raise it with them, not yet at least. Jeff planned to finish catching up with the reports, machine specifications and chat with Brains to see what had happened and what could be done. An idea was already forming, but he knew he had to be careful, and knew he couldn't step on anyone's toes. He could see his place in International Rescue wasn't where it used to be, though it had been suggested that he take over the comms so John could rest or do other work. However, this wouldn't solve the problem. They all loved him, were so happy he was back and yet it was exhausted men that visited him. They came often in ones or twos, often with bags under their eyes, sometimes even straight from a rescue in Virgil and Gordon's case, showering on Thunderbird Two which would be parked on the green behind the facility. They would come in trying to hide how tired they were to see him, sometimes a guilty look if they hadn't come sooner. Jeff understood now, he would complain if he didn't want to see them so badly. He should send them home with a clip around the ear and set his mother on them. Instead he opened his arms and embraced them, forever thankful that he still could.

He turned back to the reports, chimes filling the air with each light gust. He only looked up when some light footsteps came along the path, and a smile crossed his face. John, still in his uniform, settled into the chair before him.

"Afternoon Dad."

The smile on his son's face reached his tired eyes. John's inconsistent sleep was something Scott had mentioned. Getting John to sleep properly or to get him out of orbit was a challenge. Though he would often find time to pop down using the space elevator and would get Mum to help EOS with monitoring the world.

"Afternoon John, I'm guessing everything is going well? Will your brothers be joining us?"

"It is and no, they won't," John yawned, "it was a nineteen hour rescue so they are all catching up on sleep."

"Like you should be."

John rolled his eyes bringing a smile to Jeff's face. How many times had the boy done that as a teenager? Memories flooded back of John curled up with a book, Gordon, Alan or both on the living room floor, only for him to roll his eyes at something one of them had said. It was mainly Gordon, informing Alan of things that weren't quite true.

"I couldn't sleep."

"How about we go sit on the bench in the corner, the cushions make it extremely comfortable."

John nodded. Jeff brought the tablet with him and got up, his pace slower than his son's. John already had the cushions out the base and was on the seat when Jeff got to him. They sat down side-by-side, Jeff placing his arm over John's shoulder and pulling him close. His son didn't resist, laying his head against Jeff’s chest. This was the contact Jeff craved. Devoid of it for so many years, he still needed to be reminded that this was real.

"People died."

Jeff sat still, not saying the many things he could, knowing John needed time. John needed to work himself through it, needed to speak and be heard. So Jeff waited.

"It was a mudslide following an earthquake. Collapsed buildings and mud. That's what they had to deal with this time."

"Mud is like snow, it takes and rarely gives back. Hundreds of people are still missing, many bodies that may never be recovered, or will have to be DNA matched to be identified. We can do earthquakes and mudslides, we're efficient, but it takes its toll."

"They are all exhausted, physically and mentally. Grandma's enforced downtime but I don't know how long it'll last. Another rescue and they'll all be up and away before she can stop them. I would ground the craft for her but that would only cause suppressed anger to rise."

John's gaze was aimed at the ground, his whole body was unearthly still except for the rise and fall of his ribcage. Jeff knew John was thinking, debating what to say next. As the minutes passed and John remained silent Jeff knew it was time to coax it out.

"What about you? What weight are you carrying?"

John's fingers flexed, a hesitation, debating whether to share what was weighing him down more than gravity. It was the reason John was here, Jeff knew John saw and heard things the others didn't think about. Or if they did, they were helpless to do anything about it. John needed someone he could trust. He needed his father. Jeff's thumb started to rub the man's shoulder, offering more comfort.

"I…there were just so many people. They all had phones, all calling in. Some were petrified, others screamed, children and adults all with the same fear in their voices. All asking for help, to be rescued. Some were fine but it was a friend or family member in trouble. I talked to one young man through first aid, he had to tourniquet his younger brother's leg. His brother had already lost a lot of blood and was unconscious. I got Gordon to go there but when he found them it turns out the young man was in shock. He hadn't wanted to believe his brother was dead and he had done the first aid on the body. He had refused to leave his brother. It took Gordon five minutes to drag him away."

"I went straight from that to a child who was hurt and her mother wasn't responding. She cried; cried so much. She screamed when Virgil unpinned her arm and again when she realised he was leaving her mother behind."

A tear skipped down John's cheek. Jeff kept quiet, knowing too well what the screams of a child for a dead parent were like; how much they pierce your heart and tear into your soul. No matter whose child it was always painful.

"I heard so many last words. I've a document of names and last requests. Things they wanted to say. They are mainly 'I love you' to various family members and spouses. So many people wish they had said it more. I heard so many phone lines go quiet."

Another tear.

"I was working flat out, Grandma was taking calls from the island, but I still want to have done more. I wanted to save more. Maybe if I had directed Scott here and Virgil there or if I could have kept her calmer her rescue wouldn't have taken so long. So many lives were lost. So many we couldn't save. It's our job to save people. We should have saved them."

Jeff reached his right arm up and hugged John, tears silently falling. He knew there would always be rescues like this, where no matter what they did, many people would still die. There was nothing that could be said or done to fix it. The pain would always be felt. Holding his son, he let John cry it out in a safe place. It was his job, as a father, to be there when his sons needed him. He knew from the reports that he wouldn't be going out on rescues, his body too old and damaged to keep up with his boys. But just as his mother had, Jeff knew he would find his place again. He was still needed, even if it was just to answer the odd call, to help as Mum had all this time, to shoulder that burden and still be there at the end of the day, to help them process it all.

His eyes fell onto the mop of ginger hair, messed up by the position they'd been in, and smiled. It was the result of a hidden gene that had popped up and Lucille had adored it. It shone in direct sunlight and would give John an angelic glow. He’d been their quiet angel. Hardworking, often out of sight, but always there. The man's eyes were closed and he had become a dead weight against Jeff. It'd been more than eight years since a son had fallen asleep in his arms. There would be no complaint from Jeff. He would sit here for as long as John needed. Jeff peered down at his boy, heart full of love and pride for the quiet reserved man.

"I love you son."

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds fanfiction #John Tracy #jeff tracy #homecoming #post rescue #trauma #processing #shoulder to cry on #father son #what john sees #the man who listens #last wishes

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captain-danwilds · 3 years

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One Step Forward

Hi @avengerpercy! I realize I didn’t take Brazil’s timezone into account when posting this so I’m sorry this is technically late, but here’s your @aftgexchange gift. I hope this is good enough for you Cristal. This is my first time playing in the AFTG sandbox, so I wanted to live up to your expectations. I ended up using your prompt “Andrew and Aaron talking and solving their problems” for a little outsider POV Andreil fluff with a large helping of twinyards.

A few quick notes. Betsy and the joint sessions set the backdrop for this fic even though I am not a therapist and also not trying to make some statement about therapy in general (Personally I’m a big fan, but also recognize that Aaron really doesn’t seem to be in we’re in his POV.) I’m not trying to demonize Aaron or Andrew here. Aaron just fundamentally misunderstands Andrew. Also Raven King/Drake Incident references.

Ever since Aaron had found out Andrew existed, he’d felt unsteady. It wasn't just the sudden knowledge of how different his life could have been if Tilda hadn't decided to come back to get him or even if she'd just taken the other baby. It was the fact his brother was a mass of contradictions piled on top of each other and every aspect of their relationship was built on the idea of one step forward and two steps back.

Aaron wasn't an idiot. When the officer at the stupid game had mentioned Andrew, Aaron didn't expect his long-lost brother to immediately love him. This wasn't a television show. He knew by now that blood only went so far, that it hadn't stopped his mother from raising her hand to him or Uncle Luthor from sending Nicky away only for his cousin to come back a shell of himself. But he couldn't deny he wanted it to work desperately, for there to be another little boy out there whose life might be made better by having a brother in it.

His first step forward a letter that had to be rewritten at least twice because everything sounded wrong. His bedroom trash can overflowed with pieces of notebook paper crumpled in frustration or with ink smeared from tears he'd never admit to anyone he'd actually shed. Aaron must have spent hours writing the letter, typing it up in stolen time at the school library and sneaking to the post office while Mom had been out of it.

Hours completely wasted when the only reply was two words: "Fuck Off."

That should have been the sign to leave things well enough alone.

But instead, he'd taken the return address and written a second letter to "the guardians of Andrew Doe."

And instead of an answer from his brother, Aaron had gotten a voicemail saying Andrew had gone to Juvie.

Even the slightest hint of progress was met with resistance.

Gaining a brother meant losing his mom and never being in control of his decisions anymore.

Andrew lived by his own rules, an unspoken tally system of betrayals where Aaron would never be the one who measured up. Andrew wouldn't say it, because Andrew didn't say anything now that he was off the drugs. Aaron knew his brother only cared about him in context of proving that he'd never broken their deal. Until he called the whole thing off for Josten.

Josten, the idiot that would say things like "Andrew doesn't lie" as if he actually believed him. As if there truly was some magical code his brother followed that made sense.

"If you really don't care about Andrew, why does Neil bother you so much?" Dobson asked during their Wednesday session.

Aaron dug his fingers into the couch. He hated this. Hated that the only time he could get answers out of Andrew was when he was sitting in front of a shrink. A shrink who was undoubtedly on his brother's side. And that in order to get answers he had to rip himself raw first.

"I understand that therapy isn't for everyone," She'd said smiling gently during their first mandatory meeting freshman year. "More than that, therapy with me might not be your answer, so don't let today stop you from seeking help in the future if that's what you decide you want. I can direct you to one of my colleagues who you might feel more comfortable with."

They'd been meeting for almost a year now and Aaron still wasn't comfortable with her, no matter how many cups of hot chocolate she offered or how many smiles she gave. They'd come a long way from the complete silence and blank expression of his first individual session or even the harsh words the first time he'd shown up to Andrew's session, but it wasn't comfortable by any means.

The point was he wasn't about to pour his heart out to her even if Andrew wasn't in the room. With Andrew there, Aaron had no good way to answer the question without giving too much of himself away again, of being hurt when everything went to hell. Still, Aaron couldn't help but let the multitude of answers flow over him.

Because Josten waltzes in, every ounce of him screaming lie and danger, and this team bends over backwards for him. Because Aaron's seen enough to know Josten is dangerous. Because he will kill him if Josten doesn't keep his big mouth from bring the mafia down on them again before Aaron graduates and he can't handle another murder trial. Because Josten makes it so easy, throwing as many insults back as he gives. Those are the easy answers, because Aaron's life doesn't revolve around Andrew. He can hate Josten because Josten is a piece of shit who makes every aspect of his life harder.

But that's also not the whole truth. Because he saw the way Andrew looked at him in Baltimore, the tender movements in his hands completely at odds with the angry spark in his eyes. Because Andrew hates people touching him and yet he doesn't hesitate to wrap his hand around the back of Josten's neck. Because there's something aggravating in the way that Andrew can look at Josten and see something precious when he never looks at Aaron like that.

Aaron doesn't want to think his life revolves around Andrew, but his hatred of Josten certainly does. It’s partially jealousy. Why does this nobody get easy answers from Andrew? What makes him so special?

But the larger issue is that Aaron has seen Andrew broken. As much as Aaron wants to wish Drake away, he can’t. He’ll never be able to get Andrew’s face out of his head or the manic laugh left by the drugs. There are nights where he wakes up feeling like he still has the blood on his hands, that he’ll never be free of the feeling of Andrew knotting his fingers through his hair in worry when Andrew’s the one covered in bruises. Seeing his brother like that once was enough to break him. He doesn’t understand how Andrew can let Josten so close when Josten is a walking danger magnet. He doesn’t know what he would do when Josten inevitably hurts Andrew, because that’s the type of danger Andrew can’t just stab with a knife.

Betsy gave a small cough and Aaron knew he'd been quiet too long. He avoided Betsy's gaze to look at the clock. They were already a few minutes over their time. He wouldn’t have answered at all, just turned back to glare at Betsy until she dismisses them both for the day except he saw Andrew.

Andrew was still angled away from him on the opposite end of the couch. His mouth was still turned in a slight frown, but Andrew’s gaze had sharpened. Even months ago, Aaron might have missed it. It was a sign of amusement, slight exasperation maybe, but also one of want. Aaron had never seen that expression for any reason other than Josten, and now it’s directed at him.

“Josten isn’t safe.”

Andrew gave a huff that might even be considered laughter.

“I’m serious. You’re giving him the power to hurt you. Just because you don’t care about your own wellbeing, doesn’t mean I’m going to stand by and let him get away with it.”

“I don’t need you to fight my battles for me.” Andrew waved his hand dismissively. “Which is good because you’re shit at picking the right battles.”

Aaron groaned. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Neil won’t hurt me.” He said it like it should be obvious, like he can’t believe Aaron missed something so fundamental.

“But how can you know that?”

“How do you know Kaitlyn won’t hurt you?” The words were thrown like a weapon to end this conversation.

But Aaron isn’t about to rise to the bait. Andrew seemed to think that every girl was just going to be another Tilda, that Aaron would let them hurt him for the scraps of affection. He knew Andrew didn’t decide Kaitlyn was safe out of the goodness of his heart, so his answer made no sense.

“Why shouldn’t I be worried about Neil hurting you?” Aaron repeated himself more directly, even calling the idiot by his first name as a sign of good will.

Andrew looked down at his hands, his right-hand tracing seemingly random places around each of the knuckles on his left. The gesture seemed both familiar and wrong. Finally Andrew took a deep breath and looked directly at Aaron.

“He listens when I say no.”

The words are simple, but Aaron can hear the depth of meaning there. He gave a slight nod.

Andrew must still see that he doesn’t fully understand, because he continued softly, “He promised he’d stay” before nodding at Betsy and leaving the two of them alone in the room.

Aaron doesn’t hear Betsy’s chipper goodbye or even comprehend most of practice afterwards. His mind is reeling and even though Andrew only gave him ten words, it feels like one hell of a step forward.

It’s only later at one of the Fox movie nights that Aaron realized why Andrew’s fidgeting looked wrong. He’d seen that gesture before. Andrew’s right hand gently tracing the scars on Neil’s as they sit side by side in silence, barely acknowledging each other but still taking pleasure in each other’s presence. It’s easy to miss the moment when Neil leans easily back into Andrew and Andrew only tugs their scarred hand closer.

Aaron hated that it’s this little action is what finally makes him understand. Andrew’s words about Kaitlyn no longer felt like a dig. It was his brother’s roundabout way of trying to phrase his relationship with Neil in a way Aaron would understand. When you love someone, the world seems safer with them in it. Andrew might not have said the word love, but he didn’t have to.

#aftg #aaron minyard #andrew minyard #neil josten #twinyards #andreil #aftg fic #my fic

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kickingitwithkirk · 3 years

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Greetings From Austin

Pairing: Alpha!Jensen Ackles x Alpha!Jared Padalecki x Omega!OFC

Summary: Jensen and Jared are at odds over a monumental decision that changes their lives in a way they couldn’t have envisioned.

Word Count: 2616

Warnings: a/b/o, homophobia, bisexuality, biphobia, angst, cursing, self doubt, depression/anxiety, medical stuff, sexual dysfunction, infertility

*additional warnings to be added in future parts.

A/N: Here we go again with one my weird as hell dreams, series Inspired by this art.

A/N II: There is no intentional hate or malevolence intended towards any of the Ackles or Padalecki families. This is a purely fictional piece containing real and created persons/names/events set in the fictional A/B/O verse. Some dates/events altered to fit story.

*no beta-all mistakes are mine

*divider by @writeyourmindaway

*images found online

Prologue

Austin, TX

Mid July

“Babe,” Jensen softly says in a low voice to the person seated next to him in the waiting room, “Babe,” he says a bit louder, still getting no response. Leaning close, he blows into their ear.

Jared starts, his “what” muffled by the finger he’s been chewing on.

“You know you can’t do that, don’t want you getting sick.” Taking his hand Jensen pulls it away from his pretty pink lips, gently caressing the finger. Jared had finally stopped chewing on his hands when Covid-19 became widespread.

“Where’s your gum?�� Jared bite his lip not answering.

Sighing, Jensen shifts retrieving his pack and hands a piece to him. “What’s got you masticating again?” He inquires as Jared pops the stick in his mouth.

Jared chews the gum nervously weighing how to answer the question knowing Jensen won’t accept anything less than the whole truth. “What if something goes wrong again because of me.”

Jensen’s brow furrowed. He learned years ago that while their relationship is one of equals, he had to be lead Alpha when Jared’s mental state overwhelmed him as it had the last few weeks.

***

After the public announcement in March 2019 that season fifteen would be Supernaturals last, they had agreed when finished with the pickups they would take an extended break, return to Austin and concentrate on their marriage.

Jared intended to stop acting indefinitely, pursuing other interests and Jensen wanted to concentrate on his music.

Of course, things didn’t quite end up how they planned.

Jared entered negotiations to star in the Walker, Texas Ranger reboot, along with being an executive producer. Jensen got a call from Kripke wanting him for the role of Soldier Boy in The Boys third season.

But by March of 2020, everything came to a halt thanks to the Corona-virus.

The shutdowns left Supernaturals final two episodes with no definitive filming date and their seemingly never ending last season put their other projects on hold.

For the first time in years they had the luxury of a leisurely schedule, not having to be somewhere on a timetable, they could communicate with friends and family uninterrupted, deal with their other businesses, charities, etc, leaving most days free to enjoy being together without constraint.

But even amazing, awesome, vigorous sex on every horizontal/vertical surface that could support the two big Alphas only filled so many hours and like many couples, they started getting each others nerves and looked for other ways to stay occupied.

By late May, Jared was unable to sleep or eat, even going out of the house became a chore. When he hit a consecutive fourth day in bed, Jensen bodily dragged him into the bath for a desperately needed shower and loaded him in his truck driving to his doctor's.

Upon checking in they were told patients only allowed in the facility. Jared started panicking, saying he was having chest pains and couldn’t breath. He was rushed in with Jensen hot on their heels after morphing into an overprotective Alpha mate no one was stopping.

Jared’s doctor deduced with the lock-downs prohibiting him from his routine checkups and periodic adjustments needed to his medications triggered this episode.

The first step was to wean him off his current prescriptions and change to a newly approved, alternative regime. He was checked in a facility for ten days under observation while detoxing off his meds.

His therapist switched his twice weekly tele-counseling sessions to daily for the foreseeable future and Kodas certification as an emotional support animal was approved. His progress was slow but he was returning back to his sweet natured, big hearted, exceptionally tactical, overgrown puppy self.

When the surprise call from the clinic came a few days ago about an appointment opening, Jensen initially didn’t want it, still in his overly excessive protective Alpha mode. Jared’s outburst made him relent, fearing they were on a collision course for a major setback if he didn’t.

And Jensen, being Jensen, went overboard to ensure the appointment was absolutely private.

Part I

Jared was about to speak when a woman in scrubs called out, “Mr. Bonham and Mr. Page.” they got up crossing over to her, “Hello, I’m Sissy, Dr. Rodgers nurse, please follow me.”

They pass through the doorway leading through a maze of halls like that of any other medical clinic except this one specialized in a very specific service.

The nurse opens a door near the back of the clinic gesturing for them to enter the spacious office, “Please have a seat, the doctor will be with you shortly.” She closed the door and they sat down in the pair of chairs directly in front of the large, dark mahogany desk.

Jensen, scenting Jared’s nervousness, lifts his right hand kissing his palm, making him chuckle at the tickle of Jen’s soft beard before twining their fingers together and setting them on his left thigh, smiling reassuringly.

There was a brief knock before the door opened and an older, silver haired Beta entered. “Hello, I’m Dr. Rodgers, how are we doing today?” He asks, moving to his chair behind the desk.

Jared gave him a tight smile and Jensen remained placid.

The doctor raises an eyebrow, “Relax Mr. Page, this is just a visit to go over the paperwork before deciding about how we proceed, not the Spanish Inquisition.” Jared releases his held breath but couldn’t completely calm himself.

“I know the process can be overwhelming but I must ask, is there something we’ve done to make you uncomfortable?” Dr. Rodgers inquires.

“No, everyone’s been really nice, very professional. It’s just we..we had issues the first time we attempted to do this.” Jared finished his sentence quietly, in the recess of his mind; something bad is gonna happen and it’ll be my fault.

Jensen squeezes his hand tighter, instinctively sensing Jared’s mind was trying to spiral again, “When tried this before someone leaked our plans to the media. It wasn't ever proven the clinic was involved but...”

“We do everything possible to keep our clients anonymity protected here. All of our staff have been thoroughly vetted and sign NDA, given your professions, you're familiar with how they work. Your real identities will remain completely confidential, even if you choose to not proceed. It is why you chose this particular clinic, yes?”

“Yes, it is.” Jensen replied.

“How about we get this bit of paperwork out of the way, then we can have a more relaxed visit. I’ve gone over the applications you both submitted and have noted a few discrepancies in the medical section that need clarification before we proceed,” He opens the top file, “Mr. Bonham, why did you omit Genu Varum from your medical history?”

Jensen kept his expression neutral as he felt his stomach automatically clench. He had been mercilessly teased throughout his childhood about his bowed legs by his older brother Josh and later his buddies from school when they’d come over to hang out. By the time he was in high school Jensen’s extraordinary looks and personality were what got people’s attention first. Nowadays, many a fanfic waxed poetic about those bowed legs.

“The questionnaire inquired about inherited genetic medical conditions and since mine isn’t, I didn’t think it was necessarily applicable.” Jared hears an edge creeping into Jensen’s voice and gives their tangled fingers a quick squeeze.

“Did you see an orthopedist and were they able to determine what caused the condition? Did they suggest any surgical procedures or therapies to straighten your legs?”

“I was born a preemie, the orthopedists my parents consulted decided my condition was attributable to that.” Jensen replies tersely, dropping his vocal range. Jared gripped his hand harder, telling him to cool the attitude. “The doctor didn’t recommend surgery but sent me to physical therapy, thought it would help them straighten as I grew.”

“So no others in your immediate family have this issue?”

“Everyone my family has straight legs, including my three children.”

Jared piped in, “He hates it but he does have an exercise regimen; stretching, strength training. Oh, he also takes several different vitamins, omega oils, turmeric and extra vitamin D to support his joints.” They watched the doctor scribble a few more notes in the file before closing it.

“Mr. Page,” Jared sits up straighter in his chair, “I appreciate that you went into detail about your mental health status. I see you’ve recently been hospitalized, your medications have been changed to an alternative regiment and you’ve also increased your therapy sessions?”

Jared’s interview continued for another twenty minutes as Dr. Rodgers questioned him in depth about his depression and anxiety, feeling said anxiety ratcheting up so he focused on Jensen’s thumb rhythmically moving over his hand and used every ounce of his acting skills to appear confident and in control.

Dr. Rodgers closed his file, “I only have a few general questions left then we can discuss how you wish to proceed.”

After a more relaxed, genial conversation with the doctor, Sissy took them to a couple private rooms with paraphernalia to help stimulate them into producing a couple semen samples.

Jensen was getting close to finishing with his favorite spank-bank fantasy when he felt Jared’s frustration across their bond.

~~~

Jared couldn’t get aroused.

He felt as useless as his flaccid cock.

His doctor warned him that loss of sex drive could be a possible side effect of his new regiment until his body adjusted to it. He had struggled with temporary impotence a few times on his old meds, always fearful Jensen would finally see him as undesirable, no longer a satisfactory mate.

Rationally, he knew it was his illness causing these exceptionally hard to deal thoughts recently and the nagging idea this wasn’t the right thing for them to attempt again continually kept creeping in.

Jensen’s unspoken reluctance about having more children at his age was also weighing on his conscience, warring against his own biological longings.

They had a humongous argument when he told Jensen about taking the appointment. Jen thought this was the wrong time to attempt it again, pointing out he was just getting his equilibrium back setting Jared went off on a rant about how he no longer wanted him and would leave him like Genevieve had because he was too broken to deal with anymore.

Unmitigated anguish was written across Jensen’s beautiful features, the very notion that Jared could conceivably believe that he’d ever abandon him made his soul hurt in such a way no verbal language on earth could ever express his devastated feelings traveling across their bond.

***

Everything they’d been through; from that bar fight solidifying their friendship, Jared’s first breakdown, the years of living as roommates while secretly a couple to finding wives who understood their unique relationship and still married them both in 2010.

The joyous arrival of JJ three years later that unfortunately exacerbated Genevieve's frustration of not being able to conceive coming out with a vengeance at Jared. His unexpected breakdown in Switzerland was the final nail in their marriage. Gen was there for him but in the end it was all too much and she filed for divorce.

Shortly after, Jared’s iCloud account was hacked. It was believed, but never conclusively proven, that Gen was behind it since her lawyer was trying to break their prenuptial agreement, the videos documenting his private and explicit sexual relationship with Jensen were legally considered adulterous. In the end, the court upheld the legal document but the ramifications...

They were summoned to L.A. for the meeting from hell with WB executives, both convinced it was the end of Supernatural and their careers.

After the reaming out, they each received a weeks pay suspension to cover some of what it was gonna cost PR in time and money to deal with the inevitable repercussions and placate the show's sponsors.

How would the show’s fans react? Would they still be able to accept them as brothers only on TV while in real life they were involved in a highly stigmatized relationship?

When they returned to work there was an atmosphere of tension that hadn’t existed before. It was an open secret that all shows had their share of bitchiness and backstabbing behind the scenes. Jensen may have the thicker skin, keeping tighter control on his emotions, but Jared knew it hurt him just as deeply the loss of some of their friends because of prejudicial, social beliefs that two Alpha males shouldn’t be involved.

Jensen’s parents showed up unexpectedly in Vancouver a few weeks later. What started out as a not quite comfortable visit quickly deteriorated with his religiously conservative parents. They had not raised him like this and blamed Jared, saying he had corrupted him, leading him into a sinful lifestyle. He needed to repent and return to his wife to whom he had made a commitment before god.

Jensen blew up, replying it was none of their business, it was between them and oh, yeah, Danneel knew about them before marrying him and they better not say anything to her. Without another word his parents left. When he later called them to make amends, his mother coolly stated that he was no longer part of their family and to never contact them again.

Three months after the twins were born in 2016 came the finalization of Jensen’s divorce from Danneel, painful but congenial. They easily agreed on joint custody and still spent most holidays together. Jensen gave Dani financial security in their settlement, he wanted to make sure she didn’t have to worry about working again unless she wanted to.

All these years later, Jared continually has nagging thoughts that they had let everybody down. They received support when they publicly came out as bisexual then lost some of it when they married, being mocked for not coming out as gay.

***

There was another knock at the door and Jared ignored it, it was that nurse checking on his lack of progress again. The knock turned into pounding, “Jared, open this door now dammit!” He flinched realizing Jensen knew what was going on with him. Releasing the privacy latch and opening the door a crack he saw concerned green eyes only.

“Sorry, I thought you were that nurse,” he stepped away and sat back down as Jensen came in and re-latching it behind him. “She came to get me when you stopped answering,” Jensen said, walking over to him and started running his thick fingers through his husband’s long hair, “what’s going on babe?”

He glances up knowing that Jensen already knew, “It’s okay Jay, take as long as you need.” He paused at the unpleasant scent wafting around him. “If you’d be more comfortable we could do this at home…” Jared shakes his head, “There’s the risk of damage, contamination and or not able to get it back in time that could make the semen unusable.” Jared quotes from a website.

Jensen softly chuckled, “Nerd.”

Jared notices the bulge in his jeans, “You didn’t...”

“Drain the snake..choke the chicken..spank the monkey.”

“Fuck, okay, you didn’t! Stop using old man slang.” He shook his head smiling at Jensen intentionally goading him.

Jared reached up for the hand playing in his hair, grasping it to draw Jensen down next to him.

“Jack, I don’t want to wait any longer on doing this. I love JJ and the twins, you know I do, but they'll always be yours and Danneels. I know the timing could be better... but I'm almost thirty-eight and I want my..our own pups running around the house driving us crazy.”

“For the next eighteen years?”

“Minimum.”

tbc

Part II

SPN: @donnaintx @lyarr24

GFA: @babypink224221 @waywardjoy @let-me-luve-you @all-4-wincest

Sam/Jared @idreamofplaid

Dean/Jensen: @flamencodiva

#J2 #alpha!jensen ackles x alpha!jared padalecki #jared x jensen #a/b/o #alpha!jensen x alpha!jared x omega!ofc #alpha!jensen ackles #alpha!jared padalecki #a/b/o ofc #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #spn au #husbands

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homerforsure · 3 years

Text

Like I know the point is to highlight that it’s a Very Big Deal for the Buckley parents to call him Buck, thereby “seeing him” or whatever.

But also.

They conceive this savior baby. It’s in-vitro. It’s a whole production. They talk to Maddie and Daniel about it. “This is your hero brother in here. What should we name him?”

Daniel likes the name Evan. So they choose Evan. Our hero, Evan.

Daniel dies.

Now they have this living reminder every day. One that they would leave behind if they could but Maddie won’t give up baby Evan. She won’t agree to forget him too. Maybe they try to change his name. Call him by his middle name. And Maddie won’t do that either: “His name is Evan.”

So they’ve wiped nearly every memory of this first son from their lives and they never speak of him. Philip keeps the bike. But Margaret keeps nothing. She throws away the baby box. And Evan’s baby box too because she did start one. But everything from those first months is tied up inextricably with Daniel. (This is Maddie’s box, and this is Daniel’s box, and this is our hero Evan’s box.) And so what she has is Evan. The one thing she was forced to keep.

And she hates that. Because she’s reminded every day of her biggest loss. And she can’t move on and she can’t leave him behind. And he keeps getting hurt, honestly you’d think he was doing it on purpose, and if she had a second kid who died well then people really would talk wouldn’t they. (Even if if might be a relief.) So it’s horrible, and it feels like a punishment for the way Evan was conceived (and fuck if she doesn’t say that to him when he gets her into those joint therapy sessions).

But after some time goes by, it’s actually really hard to have no reminders. Evan is all she has left of Daniel. So when people call him Ev. When people call him Buck (the boy played sports, there is no way he wasn’t called some variation of that. Bucks, Buckie, whatever) it bothers her. And I don’t really think she’d interrogate why. She wouldn’t be able to articulate why it’s a problem that she can see him developing his own identity that doesn’t have anything to do with Daniel. She asks him why he’d let people call him such a stupid name. “We gave you your name for a reason, Evan. If they respected you, they’d use it.”

But he grows up. And he calls himself something else. And he’s this real life person standing in front of her asking his parents to see him as he really is. As they made him. And as he’s making himself.

And instead of doing that, instead of confronting what she did to him by raising him not as a little boy, but as a terrible reminder of the other little boy that she loved, Margaret calls him a hero. And she tells him he was born to save lives. So she can feel okay that she brought this person into the world for only one purpose. Because what a noble purpose right? She’s not responsible for bringing a child into the world and ignoring him when he wasn’t what she wanted. She made a hero, just like she told Daniel she was doing. And of course when she says it, she and Buck are both thinking about the one he didn’t save. And she still cannot see him as he actually is.

#911 #evan buckley #buckley parents #messy half-thought thoughts #wow this seriously got away from me #but I saw that <maddie is the name on my birth certificate>#and it's just more interesting if it's not #and if the name thing is specifically about Buck and not just anyone with a nickname #i'm sure someone had a more coherent version of this thought back when the buck begins eps were actually on but ah well #allison babbles

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liron-ao3 · 3 years

Text

Timestamp #1 to Mine to hold

Fake heat

Magnus hasn't felt well since he woke up this morning. His joints are aching, his scars are itching, and he feels sick all over. But there is no use. He planned to paint the nursery a beautiful mint green, and he wants all the fumes to be out of the room when Rafael moves in come Friday.

Their little boy. Magnus can't believe the time has finally come for them to become a family. He's nervous and elated. He manages to push the doubts away. Well, most of the time. That he will raise him together with Alec surely is the only thing that doesn't make him want to revoke the adoption process every six hours or so.

He knows he's ready. He truly is. His therapy sessions have been reduced to once a month. His life is not all rainbows and sunshine, but it is his life—their life—and the ghost of Valentine leaves them alone most of the time.

The media interest has subsided, too, with Magnus' name solely popping up in subordinate clauses whenever there is progress in the legislation regarding the status of omegas in society.

Magnus still loves seeing his name in the papers and signing contracts on his own, every single time shooting a shiver through his body. With the emancipation letter came the option to choose if he wanted to keep Alec's family name or go back to his mother's. The decision-making had blessed him with a few sleepless nights. But when he learnt that future children could carry both their fathers' names, the decision was easily made.

Magnus wipes sweat off his forehead. No one in the northern hemisphere should transpire in February. But he does, from an easy paint job. He feels disgusting and can't wait for the shower he'll take after cleaning up the room.

"Magnus?" Alec's voice comes from the hallway.

"Rafe's room," he shouts and can't suppress a smile.

Rafael Santiago Lightwood-Bane. Not for the first time, tears prick Magnus' eyes from the sheer force of emotions, thinking about his little boy. Or maybe it's hormones? His instincts kicking in? Who knows? He loves Rafe so much already. The now eleven months old orphan had stolen both their hearts the first time they saw him in the orphanage in Buenos Aires. And now, he will find a home with them and with it two fathers who will love him unconditionally.

"Hey," Alec says when he enters the room. "I wanted to help." He presses his lips gently on Magnus'.

"I wanted to surprise you," he replies into the kiss.

Alec smiles at him. "It looks great!" He cups Magnus' neck with his long fingers and his relaxed features morph into a concerned frown. "You feel warm. Are you coming down with something?"

Magnus shrugs and bunches up the plastic sheet that protected the wooden floor. He regards the room that used to be his. Soft light shines through the newly installed window. Magnus can't wait to move the furniture in.

He sways a little when he straightens, and Alec steadies him. "Maybe," he answers morosely. "I'm sweating as if I trained."

"Did you eat something?"

Magnus shakes his head. "I wasn't hungry."

Alec furrows his brow even deeper. Magnus always likes to eat. It's one of his joys after years of starvation and the lack of it a clear sign that something's wrong.

"You smell very sweet today," Alec states and Magnus' eyes shoot up at that.

"No, not again," he whines. "My last was—what?—seven weeks ago? I'm done with these fake heats! And our baby boy comes. There's still so much to do."

Alec pulls him into his arms and guides him to his neck, his scent rising soothingly into Magnus' nose.

"Everything he needs is his Papa and Daddy, our nest, and all the love we can give him. We have enough formula and diapers for a month, the clothes are already washed. The crib and the changing table and all the other stuff can wait."

Magnus nods against his shoulder, thankful for Alec to keep him grounded.

"Come on. Let's get something into your stomach, and then we'll take a shower. What do you say?" Magnus takes a deep breath and nods again.

Alec brings Magnus a protein bar, the only food his mate can really stomach through his fake heats. They had quite a few in the last two years to deal with—never predictable, always a bit frustrating, given that they never turned into a real one, never triggered a heat-rut in Alec. They are a painful reminder of what Magnus has lost, despite all the good things he experienced since he became Alec's omega. At least, the waves are becoming shallow quickly, are easily satiated, and the fake heat usually lasts no longer than two days. Enough time to do the laundry before little Rafe moves in.

Alec undresses Magnus with trained hands. He knows every single of his mate's especially sensitive spots by now and avoids touching them as much as he can. Then he guides him under the shower and smiles when the lukewarm spray from above elicits a soft moan from his omega.

Alec lets his inner alpha run free. By now, he knows that he has a caring wolf that longs to make his mate feel good under any circumstances, but especially in situations like these when Magnus' biology kicks in.

Alec massages shampoo into Magnus' scalp, lathers his body with neutral soap, and presses kisses against his neck, just like Magnus likes it best. He gives himself a quick wash and dries Magnus off with the fluffiest towel they could find in a specialist shop for heat supplies. The scars are much more sensitive during the heats. It had taken them five cycles to find an ointment that numbed the itch enough for Magnus not to want to scratch himself until he draws blood.

Alec leads Magnus to their nest and massages the balm into the sensitive skin. Magnus sighs into the pillows when the numbing and cooling effect sets in. After an obligatory sports drink, they finally cuddle up and take a nap. They'll need the rest for the first wave that is always the hardest.

***

"Alpha."

The sound alarms Alec instantly. It had taken Magnus quite some time to learn that giving in to his inner omega during these fake heats is a sure thing to make the whole ordeal easier. And if his wolf wants to present his belly or his ass and call his alpha just that, so be it.

"I'm here, my little omega," Alec coos.

Magnus' omega loves when Alec talks to him like that, lovingly, not depreciatory. It also likes his strong, sure hands on his body and the relief that comes with his perfect knot. Although Magnus likes these things out of heat, too. But who cares who's in charge now? He hands it over to Alec anyway.

"Need you," he begs shamelessly.

"I'm here, love. How do you want me?"

Magnus rolls on his back with great effort, his whole body aching, his skin dampened with a sheen of sweat. He's thankful that they are still naked from the shower. Waking up like this in his pyjamas is never fun, the wet fabric sticking to the burning skin like glue. Having his heat start in the middle of his shopping, neither. Lucky for Magnus, he doesn't smell like heat for other alphas. Another perk in his book.

Alec smiles at him, and for a long moment, time seems to stand still. Magnus is so in love with the alpha, who treats him like something precious, but never as weak or fragile.

The too-familiar pang of sadness resonates in his chest. Yes, he'll be a father in three days, but he will never grow a baby in his body, will never give birth, or nurse it. Usually, he's fine with it, but never at the beginning of his fake heats. Damn hormones!

Alec crawls between his legs. "Touch or no?"

The two mates are such a well-oiled machine by now and it shows. Magnus assesses the state of his body. He's more sensitive this time, the scar tissue on his abdomen still itching despite the balm.

"No," he says.

Alec nods and shuffles closer, pulling Magnus' butt onto his spread knees. He gives his cock a few strokes to get to full hardness and slides into Magnus with little effort. The miracle of omega biology.

Alec glides in and out of him with as little contact with Magnus' angry red skin as possible. He's a master of it by now. He smiles down at Magnus. "You're so good for me," he whispers and his omega chuckles.

"I'm doing nothing," he jokes and elicits an even wider smile from his alpha. Alec doesn't remember when they had this dialogue for the first time, but it has become a tradition.

"It's getting worse," Magnus hisses, the heat setting his whole body aflame. He hates this. It isn't how a heat should be. Yes, unease is normal, but this simply hurts. There is no passion from his side, no lust or urge to be intimate. They have sex because they know that it will ease the pain. And because they love each other, of course.

Alec could never let Magnus suffer, even though they learnt that the pain would subside on its own even without them having sex—thanks to an impromptu heat when Alec was in Los Angeles for a book reading.

Alec doubles his efforts, and his knot swells soon enough. He takes Magnus' cock into his hand, and after a few strokes, Magnus' body locks up, and he comes all over himself, quickly followed by his alpha.

They come down from their heights rather quickly—Magnus because his skin is still burning despite the fever slowly coming down, Alec because he's already in caring alpha mode again, propping up Magnus' body as best as possible with pillows so that they can stay like this until his knot comes down.

Magnus smiles up at him tiredly. "You're such a good alpha," he praises, and Alec's wolf dances a happy cha-cha-cha in his reptilian brain.

He shakes his head in denial. And yes, Magnus lost many things in his life, fought hard to get some of them back. But this here? Alec? That was simply destiny, and he thanks the angels every day that they brought them together.

Because even through the pain, the fever, and the dizziness, he can feel the love radiating off Alec and through their bond. And it smoothes out the worst edges. Alec's presence doesn't make everything good, but every moment so much better.

"I love you, Alexander," he whispers.

"I love you, too," Alec replies and sends him a kiss through the air that lands like a weightless butterfly on his lips. Magnus closes his eyes, and the last conscious thought he has before he slides into sleep is that fake heats aren't all that bad if you spend them with the man you love.

#malec fandom #malec fic #malec fanfic #malec fanfiction #omegaverse #omega magnus bane #alpha alec lightwood #alpha beta omega #past abuse #infertility #heat

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beanie-beebo-writes · 3 years

Text

Call for Action

Chapter 6

You rolled over at around 2 AM for what seemed like the millionth time. Despite having no nightmares, you were plagued with hourly panic attacks that tore you from sleep. You didn’t even know what could have caused them; you had been doing so well since your last incident weeks ago. You felt so hopeless, and wondered if it was even worth the effort to sleep. Yet every time you tried to stay awake, your eyes drifted on their own accord. Without thinking too much of the consequences, you reached over and grabbed your phone and called Jensen. You were met with a series of grumbled responses. Before you knew it, he was at your door.

“Jensen, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t thinking and didn’t know what else to do.” You said, half crying at your possible mistake.

“(Y/N), never be sorry for needing someone. C’mon, let’s lay down.” He said, putting an arm around you.

“Could we go on the couch for a bit instead? I kind of need to get away from my bed.” You asked.

“Sure.” Jensen said.

And there the two of you sat for several hours, until the sun broke across the horizon and the birds began to sing. You had both ended up falling asleep in what had looked like not the most comfortable positions, but it couldn’t compare to the restful sleep you had gotten. Your alarm in your bedroom woke you up around 5 AM, causing you to half stumble off the couch as you were intertwined between Jensen’s limbs. The small struggle caused Jensen to come around, waking up a little more when he saw you return from your room. You rubbed at your eyes and let out a large yawn.

“I know you’re gonna protest, but I think you should take the day off. You look like you could use it.” Jensen said, still on the couch.

“I don’t think I can afford that, Jensen. I just started working here.” You said.

“Well, maybe I could pull some strings for you. I could talk to Bob for you. I think he’d understand if I explained it to him briefly.” Jensen said.

“That’s the last thing I need is him knowing what I’m going through. He’ll probably let me go when he finds out.” You said, crossing your arms.

“Alright, I can spare the details. You just need a break, that’s all.” Jensen said.

After some thinking, you realized he was right. The past few weeks had been rough on you. You were basically running nonstop, and it had finally caught up to you. And boy did you feel it.

“You don’t have to call Bob, I’ll do it myself.” You said. “You’re right, I’ve been running myself ragged. I just know as an adult, I have a responsibility to myself and my coworkers. I can’t afford to take time off etcetera etcetera.”

“That may be true but as Jared has told me, you can’t put an oxygen mask on everyone else if you don’t put one on yourself first.” Jensen said.

You sighed. “Damn, you guys are like Buddha.”

“It comes with experience, trust me.” He said.

After you called off for the day, you and Jensen spent the day watching whatever was on daytime TV, Netflix, and napping in between. If you could do this every once in a while, you wouldn’t complain. The refresher was nice and you even got some bonus time with Jensen. The two of you fit together like puzzle pieces; always comfortable around each others’ presence. It was something you hadn’t felt in a while with someone.

Around noon, Jared stopped by with some fresh lunch. You had been snoozing at the time so Jensen took it upon himself to answer the door for you. The two of them had been talking for a little bit before you finally woke up to the steaming aroma and the sound of talking.

“Remember when this was happening with you a long while back? It’s all I can think of.” You heard Jensen say.

“Yeah. She’ll pull through though, just like I did. I haven’t known her for that long, and I can already tell she’s one to reckon with.” Jared said.

You groggily opened your eyes and looked over to Jensen and Jared standing in your kitchen. The TV had still been playing quietly in the background, playing some infomercial on jewelry. You inhaled deeply and sat up, letting out a loud and satisfying stretch. Doing so caused the guys to look over. You clicked off the TV and stood up slowly, your joints cracking as you stiffened them.

“Hey, how are you feeling?” Jared asked, still holding a large paper bag.

“Honestly? Like I could still use another nap.” You said humorlessly, still chuckling lightly.

“I bet. I brought you guys some food; figured you could use a nice hot meal.” Jared said while holding up the bag slightly.

“Thank you, maybe you could join us?” You asked, walking over to where he stood.

“Well, I didn’t bring enough for three.. But that’s okay, I just had lunch not long ago. Sure, why not?” He said.

He held the bag out for you to take, and you gladly accepted it. You set it on the counter and looked inside. Inside were two fancy grilled ham and cheese sandwiches, the ones held together with a toothpick and an olive. You smiled up at Jared, grateful to have found another good friend to confide in. Or at least, you hoped.

“Well Jensen, I say we dig in before it gets cold.” You said.

“Sounds like a plan to me.” Jensen said.

The three of you sat at your small kitchenette (Jared had to pull up an extra folding chair from whoever knows where you had it stashed), just happy to be in each other’s presence. You giggled as you observed Jared’s large stature cramped to the confines of the small-ish chair.

“Oh like you’ve never seen a giant man sit in a chair half his size before.” Jared snarked playfully.

“Actually no, I haven’t.” You said in between chuckles.

Jared smiled at you alongside Jensen. “It’s good to see you smile.” Jared said.

“I tend to agree.” Jensen said.

“Hard not to.” You said, mouth half-full of sandwich. “I don’t mean to intrude in any way, so let me know if I am. But earlier, I heard you guys talking about Jared going through something a while ago. So you’re telling me you both of you have gone through something similar?”

“Yeah actually-” Jared said, sitting back into his chair. “-And you’re not overstepping at all, don’t worry. We wouldn’t have talked about it with you around if we thought it was something you didn’t need to know.”

“What he said.” Jensen said. “And yeah, Jared went through a bout of depression about five years ago. It happened when we were on set, actually. He has no shame on sharing it with others, but isn’t really ready to let everyone know about it just yet.”

“What got you through it?” You asked, intrigued.

“I know Jensen was talking about therapy before, and how it helped him. I know it’s going to sound like a broken record, but that majorly helped me get through it. That and a great support system.” Jared said.

“You two really are joined at the everything, jeez.” You said. “Jensen and I were actually just talking about therapy last week. I agreed to try it, but I’m just a little scared how it’s going to turn out.”

“It can be scary, especially since it’s new territory for you.” Jared said.

“So, what do you say it’s about time we schedule you for that therapist?” Jensen asked.

---------

One Month Later

You walked down a small hallway until you reached an ajar door that had the name "Mr. Roslin" on it, and knocked lightly. A man in his late forties was sitting at a small desk in a computer chair; he turned around and smiled.

"You must be (Y/N). Please, come in and take a seat." He said.

You walked into the decently sized room and sat on a padded chair several feet from the therapist. Mr. Roslin shuffled a few papers on his desk before turning back around with a notepad and pen in hand.

"So (Y/N), tell me more about why you're here today." He said.

"Well… My friend.. er date.. said I would benefit from seeing you." You said.

"And why would they think that?" He asked.

You sighed. "Well, lately I've been having these.. panic attacks. Quite a lot of them actually."

"Have you had them before?"

"Many times, yes. Just haven't had one out of nowhere in quite a while."

"Hm. I think I have just the thing for that."

Mr. Roslin turns around in his chair and pulls out a sticky note from his desk. On it, he scribbles a few notes before handing it to you. It read: "5 things you can see, 4 things you can feel, 3 things you can hear, 2 things you can smell, 1 thing you can taste."

"Have you heard of grounding exercises before?" He asked.

You shook your head and stayed silent so he would continue.

"Grounding techniques or exercises are coping skills that keep you in the present. Let's say for instance, your thoughts or a panic attack are keeping you from doing a task at work. These exercises help you stay in the moment instead of focusing on those pesky thoughts or feelings." He explained.

"Oh wow, those sound useful.. Thank you." You said.

"Mhm. They are only useful though if you practice. That'll be your homework after this session, until I see you next. He said.

"Sounds easy enough. Thank you Mr. Roslin." You said.

"Don't mention it. By the way, have you ever been formally diagnosed previously?" Mr. Roslin asked.

"No sir, this is actually my first ever appointment to see anyone like this. I assume I have anxiety, as my doctor long ago said I may have it. He was the one who gave me the breathing tips." You admitted.

"I see. Just for your information, I'd like to know if knowing your diagnoses would help you in any way, or would you feel they would set you back?" He inquired.

"I feel the diagnoses could help explain some things, so you can tell me." You said.

"It's only your initial appointment but from what I can tell so far based on our phone conversation and now, you have both anxiety and possibly a smidge of depression. It isn't uncommon in the psychiatric world to have both. They tend to work together to make your life more miserable. The depression tends to be more of the negative thinking (at least in your case), while the anxiety of course is the panic/anxiety attacks." He explained.

"The anxiety I figured; the depression I never thought of though. Will it ever get better?" You asked.

"With a lot of effort and time, you will find it a lot easier to cope with what you have, so yes." He said.

"That's good to know. And for the panic attacks, do you think taking up a new career can enhance them?" You asked.

"Certainly. New environments and added stress are definitely a factor. They should fade after getting adjusted. But if they don't come talk to me and we'll hash it out together." He said.

"Thank you for that, it's very helpful to be in the know." You said.

"Always; knowledge can be very powerful. Is there anything else you would like to discuss today?" He asked.

"Yeah actually, there is. With my.. date. I'm not really sure where we stand. We're moving at quite a fast pace, and I'm scared something is going to go wrong or something. My life usually works that way, and I know our relationship so far isn't exactly normal." You said.

"Well, have you talked with them about it?" He asked.

You paused for a moment; you hadn't thought to ask Jensen about anything besides that one time. It seemed to be a logical thing to do.

"It is okay to communicate these things in a relationship. If anything, the relationship will be stronger if you communicate how you feel and what you expect." Mr. Roslin said.

"You're right. I just.. I don't know. Wouldn't it be awkward to talk about those things?" You asked.

"It's only awkward if you want it to be, remember that. You could always phrase it something like.. 'I wanted to talk about our relationship. Where are you and I right now? Are we still dating, or are we looking for something more?'. Most importantly, let them know how you feel. If you're afraid, let them know." He said.

"Okay, I'll try those things." You agreed.

"Perfect! Unless you have anything else to discuss with me I'll write you in for another two weeks from now. Does that sound good?" He asked.

"That sounds great Mr. Roslin, thanks for everything today." You said.

"No problem, take care (Y/N)." He said.

You walked out of the office and made your way to the curb where Jensen had parked his truck. You hopped inside and exhaled in relief.

"Well? How did it go?" Jensen asked.

"Actually, it wasn't that bad. He's pretty helpful; although I didn't expect homework." You said.

"Hey, taking care of yourself is hard work." He said, cupping your face in his hands. "And you've already taken the first step; you're doing great."

You smiled and glanced at his lips before quickly giving them a peck.

"Hey Jensen?" You asked.

"Yeah hun?" He responded.

"There was actually something I wanted to talk to you about." You said.

"Like what?" He asked, gently pulling away from you.

"Us. I wasn't sure for a bit, but I think I'm scared. Something always goes wrong in my life, and I would hate for it to be us. I'm not breaking up with you or anything, I'm just unsure. I mean, I can tell you like me, but in what way? Where are we taking this? Is it even going to go anywhere?" You asked.

Jensen was taken aback at all this information at once; he raised his eyebrows.

"Wow, uh. I guess we do need to talk." He said. "To repeat what you said: yes, I do like you. Hell, I like you a lot. That part, is never going to change, as far as I can tell. We can go wherever you want with this. If you want it to be a fling, let it be a fling. Although, I would really prefer something more than that." Jensen explained.

"Wait.. you would?" You asked, eyes lighting up.

"Yeah! I mean, if that's okay with you of course." Jensen said.

“You have no idea how happy I am to hear that.” You said.

You grabbed Jensen’s face gently and gave him a passionate kiss, pouring all of your emotions into him. He responded gently, meeting the same level of passion without being too rough. In that moment, everything felt good. You knew it wasn’t perfect, but you had faith in both the man in front of you and where he was guiding you.

End

#jensen x reader #Jensen Ackles #Jared Padalecki #spn reader insert #call for action series #call for action

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thestarwrites · 3 years

Text

All Right, All Might: Ch.13

PART TWO of the UA sports Festival arc! After going toe to toe with TOEdoroki, what will happen to young Izuku? I mean we already all know whats going to happen -- but lets find out what happens between the lines...

Word Count: 5,173 Rating: PG

———————— CHAPTER THIRTEEN: THE UA SPORTS FESTIVAL! Part 2

The two teachers sat side by side, Toshinori had one hand on his arm rest - white knuckling it - and his other hand was laced with Keri’s. She absentmindedly ran her thumb over his calloused skin, sending calming waves into his body, trying to keep him from passing out.

Toshinori grit his teeth, “He’s using One for All at 100 percent each time - he’s sacrificing his fingers to keep up with Todoroki.”

Nodding Keri sighed, “He knows what he’s doing. It’s reckless, but it will pay off, whether he wins the match or not.”

“What do you mean or not?” He shot a look to her.

Keri sighed, “Enji has been training that boy since he could walk. You really think Izuku will stand much of a chance? I’m just being logical honey.”

The blonde nodded and grunted, looking back out on the field.

“That kid is already better than your average pro!” Someone in the stadium called out.

It was met with the answer, “Well, what do you expect from the son of the number two hero?”

Toshinori grabbed the railing, standing up, “He can’t keep doing this. He is barely affected by his full armed smash - come on Midoriya, just give up.” He mumbled.

Keri stood and walked beside him, “And you think the person you picked is going to give up so easily? Would you?”

He looked down and sighed, “This isn’t a villain attack, Ree…”

“No its not, but you did tell him to tell the world he’s here,” she looked to him, “I’m not saying this is your fault or anything, I’m just saying. This kid wants to prove to himself that he’s worthy of your power.”

Sighing he kept looking at the arena as Shoto taunted his pupil, shooting another large-scale ice column toward the other boy.

“TODOROKI USES ANOTHER POWERFUL ICE BLAST!! WILL THIS BE THE FINISHING MOVE!?” Mic screamed out.

Just then - the ice shattered.

“What!? No!” Keri hissed softly, “For the love of God.”

The crowd could tell Izuku was speaking to his opponent, but it twas mostly inaudible until, “You think you can beat me using half your strength!?” The boy clenched his fist, “COME AT ME WITH ALL YOU’VE GOT!”

The close quarter combat began, and although Izuku was significantly hurt, Todoroki’s spirit was staring to falter. Patho knew that the outcome of this fight could change the game when it came to Shoto’s therapy from here on out. She just didn’t want it to come with such a high cost for Izuku, “DID YOU SEE THAT?!” Toshinori interrupted her thoughts.

“A SOLID HIT BY YOUNG MIDORIYA!”

“The kid hit Todoroki!” Someone shouted in the crowd.

Looking across the stadium, Keri laid eyes on Enji. He was staring intently down at the ring. She didn’t even need her quirk to know that he must be absolutely furious.

All Might clenched his fists as suddenly Cementos’ slow and even voice called out, “Midnight. Do you want me to step in? Midoriya knows Recovery Girl will heal his injuries after the match - he’s full of adrenaline right now, but those injuries are serious. He probably wouldn’t even be able to fight in his next match, even if she can heal him in one go. He’s sacrificing himself. At this rate, he might end up with permanent damage.”

Keri’s hand flew to her boyfriend’s, her hand was trembling, “Cementos — Do something!” She called to him.

“I WANT TO DO WHATEVER IT TAKES TO BE A HERO! AND I’LL GIVE IT MY ALL. JUST LIKE YOU SHOULD BE!” Izuku screamed to Todoroki after landing a head-butt to the boys torso, “There’s no way I can know what you’ve gone through. Or why you’re even here. Your life has been so much different than mine. But right now? STOP SCREWING AROUND. If you want to reject your father, fine. But you don’t have any right to be number one IF YOU WON’T USE YOUR FULL POWER!” He ran forward, charging up for another hit, “THATS WHY I’LL WIN THIS! THAT’S WHY I’LL SURPASS YOU!”

The young duo-haired boy mumbled something.

“ITS YOURS! NOT HIS! ITS YOUR QUIRK!”

Keri squeezed Toshinori’s hand — and then a tornado of fire erupted from the boy in the ring, “Toshi!”

“IS THAT!?” Mic screamed.

“YEEEEESSSSS SHOTO!” The booming voice of Enji Todoroki came from the stands as he descended toward the stadium, “HAVE YOU FINALLY ACCEPTED YOUR PURPOSE!? VERY GOOD! THIS IS THE DAWN OF A NEW ERA FOR US! WITH MY BLOOD IN YOUR VEINS YOU WILL SURPASS ME, AND LIVE UP TO THE REASON I CREATED YOU!”

“What a piece of trash - just wait until I get down there I’ll — ah!”

Toshinori grabbed onto her waist as she tried to leave the teachers box, “Stop, Keri. You can’t take on Endeavor, and he is making enough of an ass of himself on his own. His power level isn’t the only reason he’s number 2. His popularity stinks.”

“WELL - IT SEEMS LIKE ENDEAVOR CAME DOWN TO OFFER WORDS OF….. ENCOURAGEMENT? WHAT A DOTING FATHER…”

The display in front of everyone was mind-blowing to say the least. Not only was Izuku jumping and dodging with a speed and agility someone with his injuries shouldn’t sustain - but Shoto’s power was spectacular. He was a monstrosity of fire and ice, and it was beautiful and terrifying.

“THATS IT MIDNIGHT!” Cementos shouted as he activated his quirk, “ONE OF THEM COULD BE KILLED!”

As the two teens flew at one another with intent to be the best, several pillars of cement flew up between them - stopping them from hitting one another. Chaos ensued as the attacks blasted the cement to pieces, sending chunks of it flying with the sheer wind force they created. All Might pulled Keri into his side, using his lanky arm to shield her head from any debris, “Head down, sunflower!” He shouted.

She clutched his suit jacket, making a soft noise of shock.

“WHAT THE HECK JUST HAPPENED RIGHT NOW? WHAT IS UP WITH THESE STUDENTS?!”

“The fire rapidly heated the cement around the ring, and then it rapidly cooled,” Aizawa commented dully over the intercom.

“WAIT, THATS WHAT CAUSED THE EXPLOSION!? HOW HOT DID THAT FIRE GET!? I CANT EVEN SEE WHATS GOING ON DOWN THERE! IS THE MATCH EVEN STILL GOING?”

The smoke started to clear, Keri pulled her face out of All Might’s chest long enough to blink out the form of Izuku, “Toshi — He’s hurt!” She choked out a gasp.

“THATS IT — MIDORIYA IS OUT OF BOUNDS!” Midnight announced, “TODOROKI WINS! HE ADVANCES TO THE THIRD ROUND!”

The crowd went wild with fanfare.

She grabbed Toshinori’s hand and pulled him, “We’re going down there. NOW.”

He nodded and held her hand in return, running with her down the steps toward Recovery Girl’s temporary office. Midoriya was on his way there on a stretcher, unconscious.

----------

“The bones in your right arm are shattered, I’m afraid it will never be the same going forward. I need to remove some bone fragments or they will get stuck in your joints. Then I can heal you afterward,” Recovery Girl shot a look to Toshinori and Keri, looking down with a sigh before she spoke again, “Toshinori, you lit a fire under this child and pushed him too hard. Look at what he’s done to make you proud. I don’t like it one bit. You’re going too far. You AND the boy. Don’t praise him for what he’s done today,” she pointed.

“Chiyo,” Keri started before Ochaco and Tenya burst into the room.

“DEKU!”

“Midoriya!!”

All Might coughed and lurched forward before the kids noticed him, “You scared the crap out of me…”

“Oh - hello, it’s nice to meet you,” Ururaka smiled a little at the lithe form of the man she did not recognize as the number one hero.

Recovery Girl interrupted, “He is in no shape for visitors.”

“Hey guys… shouldn’t you be watching the matches?”

“The ring was far too damaged. They’re taking a short break.”

“That was the scariest thing I have ever seen,” Mineta commented as he walked in, “What hero is going to want a sidekick that hurts himself to win?”

Keri spun on her heels, “Minoru!”

Tsuyu hit him with her tongue, “Okay - now you’re just rubbing salt in his wounds. I don’t think now is the time.”

“I’m just telling the truth!”

Patho stood, "Minoru you and I will have a TALK about this when school is back in session."

“YOU ARE ALL MUCH TOO NOISY,” Recovery Girl said firmly as she approached the students, “I know you are all worried. But I’ve got to focus on surgery right now.”

“SURGERY!?” The kids all called out at once. Slowly leaving as Recovery girl showed them out.

Keri turned back to the boy and set her hand on his forehead gently, stroking his hair back as her body began to glow. She had to try and ease his mind and his pain.

“I’m sorry,” Izuku groaned, “I couldn’t do what you asked of me… If I shut up, not said anything, I could have beaten him…” The boy’s eyes began to water as he looked up at his idol in shame.

Keri’s eyes filled with tears as well as she kept sending calm energy into the boy, she looked up to All Might, seeing a very different side of the affect heroes can have on the kids they inspire.

All Might turned back to him, “You made Todoroki realize something very important about himself today.”

“I guess so… in his first match… he looked so sad. I was trying to figure out why, when I should have been focused. I made a huge mistake though. In our match I just was so frustrated - I couldn’t see the big picture, or what it would take to win — I’m s- sorry.”

“Its true that the match didn’t go how we wanted it to, and realizing where you went wrong wont change that. But listen, meddling when you shouldn’t have to is the essence of being a hero.”

Chiyo sighed and went to prepare the things for Izuku’s surgery, “You two need to wait outside. I have to get this done fast so he can get up and be able to walk. Out.”

Toshinori flashed a thumbs up at Deku and moved away, “I’ll be right here when she’s done, okay?”

Keri sighed and kissed his forehead, “We both will be.”

In the deserted hallway, with the echoing sound of Mic from the booth, Toshinori slid down against the wall and buried his face in his knees as he pulled them to his chest, “I did it again, I failed him again.”

“Toshi,” she sighed and knelt beside him, facing him, “Come on now, don’t sulk.”

The older man looked up at her, tears running down his cheeks, “I’m a terrible hero.”

Rolling her eyes she pushed his bangs from his face and tucked them behind his ear, “You are not a terrible hero. You might be not that great of a teacher, but you are one hell of a hero. You need to be able to work with him one on one. You’re spending too much time out in the field still. That's why most of the faculty here don’t work that much as heroes, unless specifically needed.”

“I’ve never been good at teaching - my master wasn’t either.”

“Gran Torino?” She blinked.

He shook his head, “No… Nana Shimura.”

Her eyes widened, “Nana Shimura was your mentor?” She gasped, “Does that mean?”

Nodding his head he tried to wipe his tears away, “She was the seventh holder of One for All. She passed it onto me when I was a quirkless teenager, like Izuku. But she wasn’t that good at teaching either, so she asked Gran Torino to help her… and then she died…”

“Oh Toshi… I’m so sorry…”

“No one knows this part of the story, Keri… they aren’t supposed to. Honestly, I shouldn’t have told you about One for All in the first place… I just… when I look at you I can’t help but want to tell you everything.”

Sighing she nodded and gently wiped his cheeks, “How did she die?”

“She was killed…” He took a deep breath, “I guess this is as good a time as any to tell you about my power… since you already know about it.”

She sat beside him and took his hand in hers, ready to listen to whatever he needed to say.

“Once, long ago, two brothers were born - one quirkless, one with a quirk dubbed All for One. All for One could steal quirks from people to use for himself, or give them to others. The man can also stockpile quirks, he has so many of them - and no one knows what they are. His little brother thought it was horrific, so All for One gave his seemingly quirkless brother a quirk. Power Stockpiling - However, unbeknownst to either one of them, the younger brother already had a Quirk with no other power than that it could be transferred to another person. The transference Quirk and the power stockpiling Quirk merged into one and from then on became One For All,” he took a deep breath, “The younger brother somehow discovered this. He had a strong sense of justice and he tried to defeat All For One, but given the huge difference in their strength, he failed. The younger brother decided to entrust the Quirk to future generations of Heroes, hoping that they would cultivate One For All and one day put a stop to All For One.”

“Toshi…” she whispered softly.

“All for One, has lived all of these years trying to take over the underworld and then make himself lord over our society, he has also been trying to steal One for All as soon as he learned about it, but he has failed every time,” his eyes welled with tears, “He found me when I was eighteen. Nana threw herself into the way, pushing me aside and into Gran Torino’s arms so I could be taken to safety… as she sacrificed herself… for me.”

The woman stood on her knees and hugged her arms around the tall blonde’s body as he cried. The two of them cried together there in the hallway for a few minutes before she whispered, “Is that what happened… to you… five years ago?”

He nodded gently, “I won that fight but…”

“But what, sweetheart?”

“I think he’s still out there. That Nomu from the USJ attack… he had multiple quirks. He was some kind of Frankenstein’s monster. And there’s only one person capable of that to my knowledge. And he can’t get his hands on Midoriya.”

She nodded and rubbed his back, “You need to save that issue for another day, Toshinori. I know its real bad if it’s true, but… right now you need to focus on being strong for that boy in there, and all the other kids who look to you as a mentor, and be your best for them.”

Looking over to her, he looked into her blue eyes, her forehead glowing with pink light. He tried to memorize everything about her face as the fear crept into his heart that maybe Gran Torino was right. It was reckless to fall in love. Until he knew for sure about All for One - how could he distract himself with romance? How could he bring her knowingly into danger. He would have to talk to his mentor face to face.

For now, he just leaned forward and kissed her, sighing as he leaned into her embrace. She stroked his hair back and when she pulled away, she gingerly used her sleeve to wipe the tears from his face, “There…”

He gave a small smile and kissed her again, until they heard a voice clear behind them, “You can come back in now.”

Flushing, Toshinori stood and held out his hands for his girlfriend to help her up, “Coming… sorry.”

Following her inside the room, she walked over to Izuku, starting to dress and kiss his wounds, “There… that should be enough that you can walk - but take it easy, do you hear me?”

“Thank you ma’am - ah…” the boy looked down at his right hand, which was scarred and a little crooked.

Recovery girl sighed, “May your crooked right hand be a reminder for what is at stake if you use more power than your body can withstand, and just so you know. I will NOT heal injuries like this ANYMORE,” she seemed like she was finished until she turned, “You must find a new way to teach him to use his power. There must be a way that is not so destructive.”

The three of them went to leave the nurse’s office when she called out, “Patho, would you stay behind a moment?”

She shot a look to Toshi and a small smile as she turned back, “Of course.”

Once the boys were on their way back to the festival, Chiyo sighed, “Keri… this can’t go on like this. He can’t be so flippant in teaching that boy.”

She steeled herself, “He knows, Chiyo.”

“Its not enough for him to know!” She huffed, “He needs to DO something about it!”

“And what am I supposed to do?” Keri threw her hands up, “I’m not his keeper. Dating someone for two weeks doesn’t make me some kind of All Might whisperer.”

“Oh please, you have had him tied around your finger since he met you, don’t you understand that? He looks to you. I know you have been hands off with Izuku because you’re trying to let Toshinori handle it, but he’s not handling it. The poor man didn’t even have any parents.”

“What…?” She knit her brows together.

Chiyo sighed, “Toshinori didn’t have any parents growing up. And he was quirkless. I’ve seen his medical records. He used to get bullied by kids with quirks and they’d hurt him so bad he’d end up in the hospital. He’s never been married, he’s had no one to really look after him since he returned from America all those years ago. Until now.”

“So what do you want me to do? Be his pseudo mom?” She scoffed.

“Oh knock it off, Keri,” she scolded, “You need to help him with Izuku. Help him figure it out, help him put the pieces together. Help Izuku with more counseling, they both have the world on their shoulders.”

“And you want me to be Atlas.”

The older woman took a deep breath, “You’re the only one strong enough to be, I think.”

Keri nodded, “I understand… and I’m sorry for all the trouble this is causing you.”

She nodded, “Everything will be alright in time, I know that to be true, but right now… he needs to focus. Both of them do. And so do you.”

“I understand…”

“Off with you now…” she sighed, “I need to clean up in here before someone else needs some first aid.”

“I’ll see you later, Chiyo.”

“I honestly hope you don’t,” she looked up and smiled a little.

Keri smiled back and headed out toward the stands as well.

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

“AND NOW THE FINAL MATCHUP - SHOTO TODOROKI AND KATSUKI BAKUGO! THIS IS GOING TO BE LEGENDARY GUYS!”

“And the crowd goes wild, right?” Keri smiled as she walked up behind All Might.

Turning with a surprise he smiled a little, “Hey - everything alright?”

She nodded, “Chiyo needed to scold me for not being a better help for you and Izuku.”

“What?! That’s absurd - you're not responsible for my failings.”

“No, but… I do need to be more involved for you, she’s right. I’ve been letting counseling with Izuku fall to the wayside because I have been letting you handle it. But I need to change that… Tenya?”

“Huh?” All Might turned and saw what Keri had seen, Tenya Ida running down the hall to the locker rooms, “Whats that about?”

“I’ll go find out.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“No,” she put her hands up, “No, you have important All Might stuff to do for the end of the festival. This is a guidance counselor situation, I can feel it.”

“You’re going to be back… to watch me do All Might stuff… right?”

She smiled, ��Of course,” with that she turned and started to jog after where Ida had gone.

Turning into the locker room she knocked, “Tenya! Are you in there? Is everything alright?”

The tall young man came out, dressed in his normal clothes, “Miss Chairo…” he looked like he was crying, “I have to go. It’s a family emergency.”

“Oh no, Tenya what’s happened.”

“A… a villain, got my older brother. He’s in the hospital.”

The woman put her hand on his arm, “Oh Tenya, I’m so sorry. Tensei is such a nice man… do you know anything?”

He shook his head, “My mom just called… they want me to come home right away, he’s in the hospital in emergency surgery now. That villain is going to pay…”

She knit her brows together, “Now, Tenya, you listen to me. You are to stick to the rules, and you are to leave this to the professionals,” taking out a small notepad from her pocket she scrawled down her cell phone, “This is my cellphone number. Anything you need, you just call me, okay?”

He nodded, steeling himself as he took it, “Thank you Miss Chairo.”

She nodded, “I’ll go tell Midnight you had to leave.”

“Thank you again…”

“And I mean it, Tenya. You call me. For anything.”

He nodded and turned, picking up his bag as he made his way out of the stadium.

The woman ran as fast as she could down onto the field, pulling at Nemuri’s arm as Todoroki and Bakugo fought one another, “Patho?”

“Nemuri- we need to talk.”

“Whats up?” She turned briefly.

“Ingenium has been attacked by a villain. He’s in critical condition in the hospital, Tenya has been called home to be with his family, he had to leave immediately.”

Nodding she put her hand on Patho’s shoulder, “Understood, thank you, Keri.”

Turning her head - she saw him walk in - All Might, in all his glory. She smiled a little at him as she stood there with Midnight. He grinned brightly and winked at her, “I see you made it in time, Patho.”

Sighing she smiled, “I wouldn’t miss a chance to see All Might in a million years.”

“HOWITZER…. IMPACT!!!!!” Bakugo’s blast vibrated the whole stadium and the explosion caused many to shield their eyes.

“WOW! BAKUGO COMBINED SPEED AND POWER TO TURN HIMSELF INTO A HUMAN MISSILE! BUT WE DIDN’T SEE TODOROKI FIRE UP THAT AWESOME POWER WE SAW IN HIS FIGHT AGAINST MIDORIYA - SO WHAT HAS BECOME OF OUR TWO TOP COMPETITORS?!”

“Oh god…” Keri cupped her mouth as the dust cleared, and she saw Shoto unconscious in the pile of his own ice. Whatever strength he had gotten before to use his full potential, he’d backtracked. She knew this would be bad for Katsuki.

“What!? You decided not to use your fire!? NO!” The ash blonde limped to where Shoto lay passed out, grabbing him by the scruff of his shirt.

“Young Bakugo…” All Might whispered.

“HEY! YOU! STOP MESSING AROUND! THIS ISN’T A REAL WIN FOR ME IF YOU DON’T TRY HARDER! YOU CANT DO THIS TO ME! GET UP!”

Midnight lifted her sleeve, releasing the pheromones that lay underneath. Katsuki soon slumped to the floor. Keri went to run to him - but All Might held her back once again.

“Todoroki is out of bounds, that means BAKUGO IS THE WINNER!”

“AAAAAND WITH THAT THE FINAL MATCH IS OFFICIALLY OVER! THE FIRST YEAR CHAMPION OF THE UA SPORTS CHAMPION IS KATSUKI BAKUGO OF CLASS 1-A!!!”

---------

“NO! Absolutely not! This is despicable!” The guidance counselor shrieked at Nezu and Cementos as they secured the muzzle to Bakugo’s face. The boy was chained like a criminal as he screamed in vain and wrestled with his bindings, “YOU LET HIM OUT OF THIS NOW!”

“Miss Chairo. Katsuki is out of control and he refuses to calm down.”

“THIS,” she motioned, “Is not the way to handle it! He is upset! If you would only give me a few more minutes with him!”

“NO. Miss Chairo. Do not make me say it again. You are dismissed.”

Her mouth hung dumbfounded as she shot at look to Katsuki, he was staring at her with such intensity, almost pleading for her help. She grunted, “This is not the last time we will have a talk about this, SIR,” she practically spat and walked back into the stands, fuming.

“Keri- please, you need to calm down,” All Might tried to reason with her.

“THEY MUZZLED HIM LIKE A DOG! DON’T TELL ME TO CALM DOWN! THIS IS AN ETHICAL VIOLATION! AND YOU’RE GOING TO GO ALONG WITH IT!?”

All Might frowned and leaned in, pulling her close by her arm in his large form, “Please sweetheart— please, for me, for the kids… please calm down.”

She grunted, “I’m not going to take this laying down.”

He smiled and kissed her softly, “I know you’re not baby, that’s why you’re the best person for this job. And I want you to fight it. But right now, its happening whether we want it to or not,” kissing her again - neither of them noticed the man standing in the hallway - a camera protruding from his chest as he took a candid shot of the two heroes sharing a gentle kiss.

Waving the Polaroid he smirked, walking away.

All Might sighed and smiled, “Time to be,” he wiggled his eyebrows, “Mister number one.”

Keri ended up smiling a little at that, hitting his broad chest, “Knock em dead, sweetheart.”

He smirked and ran off to where his mark was.

“THE FIRST YEAR STUDENTS HAVE COMPLETED ALL OF THE EVENTS OF THE UA SPORTS FESTIVAL, NOW ITS TIME TO RELAX AND ENJOY THE AWARDS CEREMONY!”

The platform raised and Bakugo was screaming. Keri steeled herself. He looked like a wild animal in a cage.

“Tenya Ida actually shares then third place spot with Tokoyami. Unfortunately he had to leave for family reasons - gotta love those familial bonds,” Midnight explained to the paparazzi, “AND NOW, its time for the hardware… and the only person worthy to hand out the awards is…"

The podium began to raise from the highest part of the rafters, “HA HA HA HA!!!” All Might called out, his theme song blaring on the intercom, “CITIZEN’S I AM HERE! FOR THE—“

“LADIES AND GENTLEMEN A BONIFIDE HERO!” She accidentally cut him off as he landed dramatically in the stadium, “I… ruined that didn’t I.”

Keri put her hand over her mouth, trying not to laugh.

“WELL ALL MIGHT! Now that you’re here! Why don’t you start the presentation!”

Walking over to Tokoyami, he picked up one of the two bronze medals, “HA HA, YOUNG TOKOYAMI, CONGRATULATIONS, YOU SHOWED GREAT STRENGTH OUT THERE.”

“Your words humble me, sir.”

“However!” The man moved in to hug the young teen, "You have to do more training if you’re going to face different kinds of villains. You’re not going to be able to rely on your quirk with every villain you face.”

“Yes, sir.”

“YOUNG TODOROKI. Congratulations. I’m assuming there is a reason you didn’t use your left side. Though it cost you the final.”

“Midoriya opened my eyes during out match, but then I started doubting myself in the end. I think I understand a little about why you’re so interested in him… I want to be the kind of hero you are, but my path isnt as clear as I thought it was. I have a lot of things to think about. And I have to take care of some things with someone, very soon.”

“I’ve never seen this look on your face before,” All Might moved to hug Todoroki as well, “I wont ask for details, but trust yourself. I’m sure you’ll work things out.”

“Right.” He sighed.

Keri smiled a little and sighed as he walked up to Bakugo.

“YOUNG BAKUGO - well… this is a little much,” he said as he went to remove the muzzle. Keri smiled, grateful that in a small way he was honoring her wishes, “Well, you did what you said you would do in the pledge. You’re true to your word.”

“ALL MIGHT…” His low voice was like venom, “Winning first place like this… I WON’T ACCEPT IT!!! EVEN IF EVERYONE CONSIDERS ME THE WINNER!”

“In a world where we’re constantly being compared to one another, there are very few who can keep their eyes focused on the top spot. You’re one of those people,” he paused and Bakugo remained seething, “Please accept this medal. Even if you think of it as a scar. Something you’ll never forget.”

“I DON’T WANT THAT PIECE OF GARBAGE!”

“Come on now…”

“GET THAT TRASH OFF OF ME!!!!!”

He ended up with it in his mouth.

“HERE THEY ARE! THE WINNERS OF THIS YEARS SPORTS FESTIVAL! BUT LISTEN CLOSELY, ANY OF YOU FIRST YEARS COULD HAVE ENDED UP ON THIS PODIUM. THINK ABOUT TODAY, YOU’VE CHALLENGED EACH OTHER, LEARNED, AND CLIMBED THAT MUCH FURTHER TO BECOMING PROS! I THINK THE NEXT GENERATION OF HEROES IS GOING TO BE THE BEST YET!” He punctuated it with a point of his finger to the sky.

“SO I HAVE ONE MORE THING TO SAY - I WANT YOU ALL TO SAY IT WITH ME! UA…. THANK YOU EVERYONE FOR YOUR HARD WORK —“

As the rest of the whole stadium screamed, “PLUS ULTRA — “

The booing that ensued from people screaming why didnt All Might use this perfect opportunity to use his catch phrase. The man shrank on the spot and did his best to try and apologize, as he waved and walked off the field he groaned, “That was awful.”

Keri ran over to him, and grabbed his arm, “Hey - thank you.”

“For what?” He turned to look down at her.

The look she gave him was nothing short of adoration, “Taking Katsuki’s mask off.”

“Well… you were upset. And it was really a lot.”

“You’re my hero, Toshinori Yagi,” she smiled and leaned up to kiss him softly, “Thank you so much for being so wonderful.”

“Okay, okay… the classes will be assembling to give the announcement that the next two days are free days…”

She nodded, “I want to take a trip to Hosu.”

“For young Ida?”

Keri nodded again, “Yes… you should come with me.”

He nodded, “Okay, Sunflower.”

She nodded again and yawned softly.

“You know what we should do tonight?” He gave a smile and winked when she looked back at him, “We should spend the next two days hunkered down at home and doing all kinds of domestic things together.”

Chuckling gently, “Toshinori, are you suggesting we play house?”

He nodded and smiled brightly, “Thats exactly what I am suggesting,” She laughed gently, and after a few moments he smirked, “Well…? Whats your answer?”

She blushed and giggled, “I accept.”

#all right all might #all might x reader #all might x oc #my hero academia #toshinori yagi

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goliath-de-senfina-sango · 4 years

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Danny had just finished dealing with one problem when a sort of old problem reared it's ugly head and made itself a priority. For once, he may have to deal with a supernatural entity the same way any Fenton traditionally would.

trigger warning for suicide mention and school shooting mention

“Uh, well, I know a way I can help.” Danny smiled, rubbing the back of his head. “Sorry for making that wish without asking your permission but I have a feeling you’ll like this one.”

“I’m certain.” Desiree sighed and turned to fly away, but Danny couldn’t just let her go like that. People made wishes haphazardly all the time, and interpretation was a horrible thing to mix magick into.

“I wish that you were free of the curse that was laid on you.” She froze, turning to stare at him with wide red eyes. Pink and green light gathered around her fingertips and she raised her hands.

“So you have wished it… so shall it be.” A cloud of smoke enveloped her like a cocoon, and Danny squinted into it. A wave of force exploded from the cloud and all the booths shook with the energy released, Danny being knocked to the ground. When he looked up, Desiree was blue-skinned, her silver armbands violet and her dress a dark green. Eyes like stars looked down upon her new form, bottom half still a cloud of wispy mist, and she slowly began to smile and laugh. “I’m… free? I’m free! Thank you, Danny, thank you so much!” She flicked her hand, pink and blue ripples of light fixing up the cotton candy explosion and even setting Danny on his feet properly. “I had thought I’d never be free of that wretched curse!”

“No problem! Just, if you can avoid it, please don’t go hurting anyone?” She arched a brow at him and Danny winced. “I mean, I’m kind of trying to keep everyone, ghosts and humans alike, safe in my town, you know?”

“I cannot promise not to hurt anyone but I won’t be staying in this Realm for long.” Desiree smiled, a sharp and dangerous baring of teeth and a gaze fixed on something far beyond them that Danny felt pity for. “After all, I have to find the fool who did this to me and show him how it feels. And then, I’ll return to my own realm, and a queendom of my own shall be mine!” She laughed, lights and swirls of colors that his brain had no way of making sense of dancing around her, and throughout the park. After a moment, she sighed and patted his head. “Thank you, Danny. Stay safe.” And in a swirl of pink that might not have actually been pink, she was gone.

Danny took a moment to feel all warm and tingly inside about how he helped someone so easily, and then he let everything slide past him and through him, flying into the ground and then back up under the table. The cold of his ghost curled back up into a ball somewhere within him and his skin regained its color and warmth, the world settling back into a thin extreme indigo lense. He crawled out from under the table cloth and found Tucker, staring at where he had been, and tackled him. They tumbled to the ground with a yelp from Tucker and Danny laughed, rolling away from the zap of the belt. “Dude, Desiree is a Jinni! I wished for a dick and now I have magickally transitioned.”

“Don’t let my being crushed into the ground by you fool ya, I’m genuinely overjoyed for you about that.” Tucker lifted his head and laughed, deactivating the Specter Deflector before dragging Danny into a hug in the grass. The hug lasted longer than he felt this deserved, even if he was over the moon about it. It was also tighter than it should be, and Tucker’s gold was streaked with all kinds of wild blurples, marshons and even some grick.

“Dude, are you alright?” Danny patted Tucker’s back when he just squeezed tighter and sighed. “Ok. We can do this, but like, we’re gonna get stepped on.” Tucker relented, finally, and they got up, dusting the dirt and grass from their clothes before Danny was hugged, again. “Tuck?”

“I… we need to talk, with the others too.” Well, this promised to be interesting at least. A good distraction from what happened before, hopefully.

It was not, in fact, a good distraction from the shapeshifter that had essentially murdered him (Sam was not the cause, no matter what she probably thought, and he needed to tell her that at some point, she deserved to hear it). No, instead Danny, Sydney and through the skype call Sam listened to Tucker tell them about how he’d wished that Danny hadn’t gone into the portal and apparently all hell broke loose from that. On one hand, it was almost freeing to know that even if Danny hadn’t caved to peer pressure like an idiot, the portal still would’ve been wrong when it turned on. It ached to know that if he hadn’t died in there, his sister would’ve died out here.

But the burning in Danny’s soul was nothing, apparently, compared to Sydney. “Wait, Tucker, did you say, Spectra? As in Penelope Spectra?” Oh boy, Danny knew that tone and he didn’t like it.

“Yes…” Tucker backed up a bit, while Danny shifted to stand in front of him, hand in his pocket. “She’s the guidance counselor at Casp-”

Sydney glitched, glitched hard. His features stretched, twisted, overlapped before settling on the image of a corpse, blood dripping from his mouth and the back of his skull as he hissed fury that made the skype call lag and crackle with static. “Penelope Spectra should be dead like the rest of us! I- show me a picture of her. Now!”

“Ok, ok,” Tucker said, pulling up a picture from the school’s website. “There’s surely plenty of people with that name, Sydney, no need to freak out.”

Except, he did. When they pulled up the image of a ginger woman with hair done up in what looked almost like horns and a red business suit, the air around Sydney shone with green and his eyes were pits of red light. “THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE! NO ONE CAN SURVIVE A BULLET TO THE HEAD LIKE THAT! I SURE AS HELL DIDN’T AND NEITHER DID ANY OF THE OTHER BULLIES LIKE HER!”

Tucker, slowly, exited the browser and reactivated his Specter Deflector™ while Danny gently tugged Sydney back from the screen. It stung, the dark reddish colors radiating off Sydney like heat, anger that wasn’t his own boiling in his chest. Danny took a slow, deep breath, and when he breathed out he pushed the anger out of him with it. “Breathe with me, Syd. Can you do that?”

“I’m dead buster.”

“Yeah, and you don’t need to breathe, but can you?” The glitching slowed ever so slightly, and Danny brought his energy as close to the surface as he could while still human. “In and out, c’mon. In,” the heat receded, concentrated, burned darker for it. “Out.” It dissipated in waves, ripples of static on his screens and Tucker grabbed the laptop to keep the current from ruining it. They did that, breathing, for a while until Sydney looked less like a floating corpse and more like a monochrome translucent image. He rubbed his arms and looked away while Danny turned to lock eyes with Tucker. Tucker was busily typing away on the laptop now that nothing was interfering with the wifi signal. “Tuck?”

“It’s a good thing Sydney stays away from the school,” he muttered, Sam snorting over the line. “Is it possible for an unagitated ghost to have some color and look like a human being?”

“Uh, not that I know about.” Danny glanced at Sydney and gave him a pat on the back. “Syd?”

“I-I don’t know… I’ve been a bit stuck, on the other side you know?” Sydney was becoming fuzzier at the edges and Danny sighed when he realized the other boy was invisible. “Maybe someone else would know.”

“Right,” Tucker drawled. “Syd, do you wanna come with us to go ask Agatha about this? If we’re dealing with a well-hidden ghost, then I wanna make sure you two are on top of your game. A hearty meal, or I guess a ghouly meal, is essential for any fight.”

Sydney at least flickered back into something easier on the eyes if not fully there, and he chuckled. “Uh, maybe? Who’s Agatha?”

“Agatha Reece,” Sam said over the call, pausing to cough into her arm. “She’s the ghost of a lunch lady at Casper.” Sydney’s white eyes went wider than humanly possible, a touch of sepia seeping into his greyscale.

“Ah, you know what, I think I’ll just head out and go see some sights. I’m sure you two don’t need me to help you grab a snack.” With that, Sydney flew through Tucker’s ceiling, and Danny leaned back in his chair, a heavy sigh on his lips. It felt like a lot of pressure just rose off of his chest, though there another pressure entirely coming from his swirling thoughts.

“It’s a damn good thing I got Sydney out of the school before he actually saw Dash doing the shit I ranted to him about.” They all laughed at that, and Danny felt a bit lighter still. “Though, I imagine school’d be pretty interesting without him.”

“Yeah, we could actually walk around without worrying about getting shoved into a locker.” Tucker stretched his limbs out, and Danny felt an ache in his joints just at the reminder. “What a stereotype.”

“As much as I’m glad to cheer on the virtues of Jazz’s therapy sessions with Sydney,” Sam cut in with a shaky, light laugh of her own. “We still need to figure this Spectra thing out.”

“I’m looking her up and while she’s not stupid enough to use the same name over and over again, her picture is sorta everywhere over the past five decades,” Tucker muttered. Danny got up and rested his chin on Tucker’s shoulder, taking in the image of a barely, if at all, changing face go throughout the ages back to the 50s. “Cause if she’s a ghost, she’s gotta be using a lot of energy to keep looking like that.”

“That’s if she’s a ghost,” Sam said. There was a long moment of quiet after that, and Sam went off-screen, grabbing some book that looked older than Spectra. “Guys, you just said a Jinni flew off to get revenge on a ghost, how do we know there aren’t other things out there.”

“Mom and Dad have been to other places before…” Danny felt his hand slipping out of reality as the realization hit him like a football to the face. “They’ve made so many windows to other places and then if a drone could survive going in, they went in, and then Jazz and I went in with them. Holy shit, what if there was stuff in there we just couldn’t see?”

“What did Sydney and Agatha call the other side?” Sam sniffled. “The Infinite Realms? There’s probably a whole lot of things that Spectra could be.”

“Based on this track record of depression, she’s either a shitty psychologist who doesn’t get how the human mind works, or she’s fucking up people’s lives on purpose.” Tucker shifted so Danny could see the news article that he was looking at better. “That’s a lot of people who went from average mental states to killing themselves, or going into self-isolation.”

“Maybe she likes ruining people’s lives,” Sam muttered. “There’s plenty of legends and myths about things that like to do that. Danny, have your parents made anything that might help reveal a supernatural being hiding as a human?”

“I… maybe? I’ll have to check, I haven’t been paying attention to their weapons or anything lately.” He had been actively avoiding anything offensive that his parents made besides the plasma rifle he had. He wasn’t looking to have things go off on him, after all. “Tuck, you check with Agatha about what Spectra might be and I’ll head home, see what Mom and Dad have worked on. Sam, you see if you can find anything on, I dunno, emotional vampires or straight-up assholes who love ruining lives in folklore.”

“Can do, captain, but there’s a lot of the latter in every kind of story.” Sam offered a wave before ending the call and Danny sighed, sagging in his chair.

“Look at you, takin charge like a hero.” Tucker hugged him again, and Danny leaned into his side.

“Yeah. Let’s hope I can keep being a hero.”

#TW suicide mention #tw school shooting mention #Danny Phantom #Danny Fenton #Desiree #Tucker Foley #Sam Manson #Sydney Poindexter #fanfiction #fanfic #phanfiction #phanfic #fanphiction #fanphic #phanphiction #phanphic #Monstrous to Supernatural #MtS #Rexy Writes

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