#…so fired up constantly. it’s starting to boil my brain.’ they just can’t quit it.

[gothicprep]

I think the most depressing thing that’s happened in my life over the past couple of months is watching an otherwise intelligent friend descend into paranoia and conspiracy. maybe ex friend now, because I don’t feel all that inclined to talk to him these days, but it’s still sad to be a bystander to this who can’t help even if you try to intervene.

[cardansriddle]

Draco Malfoy x Granger!Reader- Forbidden Fruit

A/N: This was requested. I am trying to write all of your requests, thank you for sending them in! Some are taking longer to write because of the difficult context, so my apologies for those who are waiting.

Warnings: Torture, sad, semi-happy ending.

Summary: The reader is on a run with the Golden Trio when they stumble upon Snatchers who take them to the Malfoy Manor. Things get heated when Lucious recognizes the girl who has been on Draco’s mind while the Dark Lord was performing Lgeilimency on him. 

Being on a run with the Golden Trio was probably not the brightest idea. But being Hermione Granger's little sister put me in danger, so after an emotional debate, we came to the conclusion that I would join her and the boys in the quest of defeating Voldemort. I knew going back to Hogwarts was not an option, since I was a muggleborn, but the reality of accepting the truth terrified me. All of this brought me to the situation I am in right now, arguing with the trio.

"I'm telling you this is a stupid idea! We will get caught as soon as we step a foot in there!" I yell, waving my hands around angrily. Hermione sides with me on this one, understanding the risk and the disadvantages of Harry Potter's ridiculously stupid plan.

"Do you have any other ideas? I saw this in my dream, we need to go there!" He shouts back at me and I try to refrain myself from punching his face.

"Merlin, you're dafter than Crabbe and Goyle! You-know-who will expect you to be there." I chuckle bitterly. Hermione puts a hand on my shoulder to calm me down, but I brush it off.

"Harry, she has a point, it's extremely risky..." Hermione trails off and I sense a 'but' coming, "But I can't lie, I was also thinking about going to the Godric's hollow," She says and I feel my blood boil once again. Harry's eyes light up and he looks at me hopefully. I shake my head in disapproval and he groans, running his hand through his hair. He looks at Ron, but he avoids his eyes, making it obvious he agrees with me rather than with his best friend.

I grin triumphantly. For the first time in his life, Ron made a sensible decision.

"Then Hermione and I will go, you two can stay here." He huffs before climbing in his bed.

"Absolutely not!" Both Ron and I object. Harry grins and I roll my eyes once I realize he knew we would not stay here.

Fuck him and his stupid scar that got us in this mess in the first place.

"Ok, off to bed all of you. Tomorrow we'll discuss this." Hermione sighs tiredly before kissing my forehead affectionately. I pull back and glare at her disappointedly, before laying down on my bed and facing away from her. I try not to overthink about the possibilities of tomorrow's events and drift off into a deep slumber.

I leave the Slytherin common room in a hurry, checking my wristwatch only to groan at the time. I am late to the D.A. meeting. Again.

Lost in my thoughts, I bump into a hard chest causing me to lose my balance. Before I can hit the ground, a hand wraps around my waist and pulls me back up. Once I regain my balance I look up to thank my saviour, but the words die on my tongue once my eyes land on the familiar face of Draco Malfoy. He pulls his hands away immediately once he realizes he caught me, and sneers.

"Watch where you're going, Granger." He spits and I roll my eyes in annoyance.

"Just move before I lose my patience and hex you, git," I reply and try to push past him, but he blocks my way. I look up at him in expectance, hoping he would get it over with so I could go. "Yes, Malfoy? I already know what you're going to say. That I am a stupid mudblood who doesn't deserve to be in Slytherin, bla bla bla. Let's not waste our time here." I put my hand on his chest and push him back harshly. He doesn't budge.

"Are you going to Potty's secret meeting?" He asks suspiciously. I furrow my eyebrows in fake confusion.

"I think you had too many Butterbeers." I say with an overly sweet smile and move past him successfully. I turn around to make sure he is not following me and grin triumphantly once I realize he left me alone. I slip into the Room of Requirements and am immediately greeted by the friendly faces of my friends. I avoid their questions about my whereabouts and start training.

As I fire a spell at Hermione, who dodges it easily, the room starts shaking. I glance at her in confusion and her face mirrors my expression. We all gather around the whall which is where the sound is coming from. Harry steps closer to the wall in order to peek at the other side.

I realize what is happening and immediately slip out of the room and make sure no one sees me. Dumbledore's Army is getting caught. If Umbridge would see me, a Slytherin there, things would get ugly, so I start sprinting towards my common room.

Before I can round around a corner, a hand reaches out and grips my arm before pulling me into an abandoned classroom. I try to scream but the other hand covers my mouth so my scream would be muffled.

"Be quiet, Granger, or do you want Umbridge to find you?" A familiar voice whispers in my ear and I turn around to see Malfoy standing in front of me with his signature sneer. "If you would turn around that corner, Parkinson would happily greet you with a hex." He drawls.

"So what? Am I supposed to thank you? Why did you pull me in here?" I ask and his muscles tens visibly. He clears his throat and avoids my eyes.

"I did not want your stupidity making us lose house points." He says and I scoff. Of course. Why else would he save my arse from Parkinson? I cursed the hopeful part of my brain which thought he did it for me. How naive of me.

I wake up to the voice of Hermione trying to wake me up. I assure her I am now wide awake and sit up groggily. I try to push the dream (which was actually a memory) I just had back.

While changing I cannot help but let my mind drift away to Draco. I know that he is on the side of Death Eaters, fighting amongst them against us, but a part of me keeps telling that it is involuntarily. The state that he was in the sixth year made it obvious. I remember how he isolated himself from everyone and barely threw insults my way. His mind was always somewhere else and he would constantly skip meals and disappear for hours. Hell, he even missed classes, which was unusual, since he was one of the best students. I remember my urge to approach him, comfort him, offer a shoulder to lean upon, but the status of my blood and the surname I was born with would always come in the way. I knew he would never let me close to him. He was the forbidden fruit I could never have.

After we pack everything we leave the tent. However, we stop in our tracks once we notice a group of men dressed in filthy clothes moving past us. I silently hope that they wouldn't notice us, but the leader does and raises his hands so the others would halt, and glances at us curiously.

"Run," Hermione whispers loud enough for us to hear, and we do not hesitate before breaking into a sprint. I dodge branches and the spells the men are casting my way while running, glancing back once in a while to check if any of them were close enough to catch me. I run like my life depends on it because it actually does. I realise I cannot see the trio and I start panicking slightly. I look around frantically trying to locate one of my friends, but my distraction causes me to stumble upon a fallen tree and I crash face-first into the ground. Before I can get up, the man behind me fires a spell and I feel ropes tightening around my ankles causing me to scream in frustration.

Two of the men pull me into a standing position as the leader approaches me, and only then I notice my friends being dragged behind him. I try to squirm out of their hold but they only tighten their grip. I kick one of the man's knee as hard as I can, and a small smile makes its way onto my lips when I hear his yelp as he falls on one knee.

"Fiesty." The leader who is now too close for my liking chuckles as his eyes dance over my features. His fingers trace over my cheekbones and I turn my face away from him.

"Go to hell." I hiss, but he only smiles in return.

"We're taking them back to Malfoy Manor. Who knows, maybe they'll be worth some galleons." He says and the others nod in agreement. I try not to let panic show on my face as my eyes connect with Hermione's and she seems to be thinking the same thing as I am.

Without a warning, they apparate us, and we are in front of the dark Manor which is enormous. A crazed looking woman with dishevelled hair opens the gate and I recognize her from the posters all around the place. Bellatrix Lestrange. Goosebumps rise on my skin as I recall the story of Neville's parents and try to shove the fear down. The man whispers something to her and her eyes fall upon us, observing each individual. Her eyes seem to linger on me for a moment too long before she smirks and lets us inside.

We are brought to the living room, where I see Lucius Malfoy and her wife standing in the corner, observing the situation. Then my eyes fall upon the familiar figure and my breath catches in my throat.

Draco.

His eyes find mine and I see an emotion flicker behind his cold eyes before he masks it and it's back to looking indifferent. I block the argument between the adults out as I stare at him. His eyes never leave mine as he grips his wand tighter, causing his knuckles to whiten.

"Isn't this the girl...the Dark Lord was talking about? The girl that was distracting Draco's thoughts?" Lucious asks, causing my head to snap in his direction. His eyes stay on me as he observes me with a sneer.

"The mudblood?" Bellatrix chuckles. "Is it true Draco? Did the Dark Lord see her in your thoughts?" His aunt asks him while her gaze stays glued to me. He gulps nervously before responding.

"Why would I care about a filthy mudblood?" He replies, venom dripping from his every word and I try not to flinch at his words.

"Are you quite sure, Draco?" His aunt taunts, "Let's put that to the test, shall we?" She smiles evilly before raising her wand. "Crucio!"

I drop to the ground in a second, excruciating pain spreading over my body like wildfire. I do not register the screams of my friends as I myself scream in agony. I shut my eyes close and pray to whatever higher power there is to end this nightmare. I feel like my bones are cracking everywhere, and at that moment, I wish for death to come and envelope me, for it would be better to die rather than go through this torture for another second.

"Enough." I hear a female voice say who I assume it's Narcissa. Bellatrix looks back in surprise at whoever dared to interrupt her and I physically do not have the strength to open my eyes or listen to the commotion around me. Before I know it, someone scoops into their arms and I'm being carried away. I cannot control the tears staining my cheeks, and try to muffle a sob.

"It's okay, I've got you." A familiar voice whispers and I lean my head on his chest, clutching my hand around his black suit. He gently places me on the hard ground, and I open my eyes to make sure I am not imagining it. "I'm sorry." He whispers as he starts muttering healing charms under his breath.

Suddenly an ear-deafening scream echoes through the Manor, and it takes me a second to realize it's my sister. I sit up quickly, immediately regretting doing so as I feel my ribs hurt from the sudden movement. My sister is being tortured...and I have no power to stop it. The thought burdens my mind and I force back the tears threatening to spill from my eyes.

I hear the metal bars opening before they close shut, and I look to see Harry and Ron laying on the ground. They both look very angry and upset as they look around helplessly before their eyes settle on me and the hunched figure next to me. Draco looks back at them and points his wand towards my friends.

"Move and I'll hex you." He threatens. Harry looks at me worriedly but I shake my head, silently begging him to not intervene. After all, Draco was healing me. They do not step towards me but stay put and continue watching as Draco turns back and focuses on me.

"Thank you," I whisper but he shakes his head.

"Don't thank me. This happened to you because of me." He snaps back and I can tell he is frustrated with himself.

"What did they mean when they said I was in your thoughts when Voldemort was invading your head?" I ask after a moment of silence. He sighs and runs his hand through his platinum blonde hair.

"Don't ask questions you don't want the answers to, Granger," Draco says and I scoff. He smiles at the action before running his fingers through my hair and my eyes closed involuntarily at the gentle and soothing action.

"Will she be ok?" Harry's soft voice echoes in the large basement and Draco looks up in surprise. He nods before resting his gaze on me and smiles. It feels like Harry and Draco form an unspoken truce after this brief interaction and Harry pulls a hesitant Ron away from us and they sit down and start whispering amongst themselves, undoubtedly planning an escape.

I raise my hand hesitantly and trace Draco's defined jawline and sculptured cheekbones as he leans into my touch. My palm cups his cheek and he hesitates before leaning in and capturing my lips in a gentle kiss. I kiss back immediately and despite being tortured moments ago, I feel like I'm on cloud nine as he embraces me.

"Draco!" Someone calls and he pulls back. He sighs tiredly and releases his hold on me.

"I'll see you soon, I promise. Try to stay alive, yeah?" He smiles sadly and pecks my lips one more time before standing up. He casts a lingering look my way before disappearing from my sight. I sigh at the emptiness I feel after he leaves and pray to Merlin that this would not be the last time I see him.

I just got my hands on the forbidden fruit, I could not bear losing him after years of hiding my love for the boy who had no choice.

[prettyinlimegreenboots]

It’s been a long time since I’ve put fingers to keys. I’ve had some amazing cheerleaders here on Tumblr who have helped me get out of my writer’s block and actually put pen to paper. As always, feedback is most appreciated!

Warnings: cursing

Prompt: my neighbor’s at my door asking if everything is alright because it smells like something is burning and I was only trying to cook for once and this is embarrassing but they decided to help me fix this mess.

The fire alarm blared as he opened the open to check on the chicken. Smoke billowed out as a cuss word escaped his mouth. Between the blare of the alarm and the choking smoke, his heart beating loudly in his ears as the panic started to creep up his back.

Grabbing the pot holders, he reached into the oven, grabbed the glass pan, dropping it on the stovetop with a groan. “Great.” He muttered, shaking his head as he made his way over to the blaring smoke alarm.

Waving the pot holder in front of the blaring alarm, he sighed as silence enveloped the apartment.

The silence was interrupted by a hurried knock on his front door. Another groan escaped his mouth as he tried to figure out who could be on the other side. Mrs. Wilson was a crotchety old woman who lived two doors down from him and always tried to bring him stale cookies and always told him he could stand to “eat a bit more”. Or it could be the cute boy who moved in the month before. Albert didn’t want to get his hopes up but he was praying that it was the latter rather than Mrs. Wilson.

Walking over to the door, he hurriedly yanked it open as the cute stranger quickly lowered his arm. Albert pushed a sheepish grin onto his face as he leaned against the door jam. “Hi!”

“Everything okay?” The cute boy asked, raising an eyebrow in question. “It smells like something is burning and those fire alarms do tend to blare pretty loudly.”

“Just trying to attempt to cook dinner.” Albert scratched the back of his neck awkwardly. “Sorry about the disturbance.”

The cute boy smirked. “I’ve seen food being delivered at all hours of the day. Why mess up the system you so clearly have down pat?”

“Do you have a name? I can’t keep calling you cute boy in my head. And for your info, I was told by a very important person to quit wasting my money on takeout and learn how to cook.” Albert shrugged. “Clearly it didn’t go well.”

The cute boy chuckled, shaking his head. “Cute boy, huh? It’s Thomas but all of my friends call me Finch. And for the love of everything holy, don’t quit your day job. Also, if you need help, I could help you - that’s kind of my job.” Finch rambled on as a smirk crossed Albert’s face. Finch grinned, shifting his weight to hold out his hand. “And cute neighbor boy, what’s your name?”

“Name is Albert, but a lot of my friends call me Red.” Reaching over, he put his hands in Finch’s, shaking it. “If you’re offering, I’d love some assistance.”

Pushing open the door wider, Albert waved his hand as Finch slipped past him. “So what were you attempting to cook that ended in this disaster?”

“Chicken - thought a nice meal of chicken, mashed potatoes and broccoli. I wanted something that reminded me of home. Didn’t know this whole cooking thing would be so hard.” Albert groaned. “Why do you enjoy it so much?”

Finch chuckled, leaning against the cupboard. “It’s relaxing and you can create a good meal and afterwards appreciate your hard work.”

“Whatever you say.” Albert rolled his eyes as Finch rolled up his sleeves and quickly washed his hands before raising an eyebrow in Albert’s direction. “What are you in the mood for? I’d say your chicken isn’t salvageable.”

Hopping up to sit on the countertop, Albert smirked, giving him a challenging look. “What’s your favorite meal to make?”

Reaching to open the cupboard next to him, Finch chuckled. “Well, now I know why you like to order food in so frequently.”

“Grocery stores scare me. They’re overwhelming.” Albert shrugged. “And most of the time I don’t know where half the items I’m searching for are located within the store.”

Finch nodded, continuing his search for whatever was going on in his mind. “Make sense. That’s why I use a grocery app to get food delivered - problem solved. But you don’t have much here. Let me go grab some supplies from my place and I’ll be right back.”

Albert watched him walk out of his apartment with a shake of his head. He tried to figure out what the hell had just happened and if his life had just changed for the better. Before he could move, Finch was back with some items in his arms, dropping them on the counter to Albert’s right.

“Now where are your pots and a strainer?” Finch asked, looking over at Albert.

A wicked grin crossed Albert’s face. “Why do you assume I have pots and a strainer?”

“Well in my search, I found a zester so if you have that fancy piece of equipment, I’m assuming you have pots and a strainer, smartass.” Finch raised an eyebrow. “Now where do you keep them hidden?”

Pointing to the cupboard below his hip, Albert smirked watching Albert crouch down, ruffling through the cupboard for the requested items. “So . . . uhhh do you have a significant other?”

Filling the pot with water, Finch snorted. “That’s the best conversation starter you could come up with?”

“I mean, I hate awkward silence so yes.” Albert defended. “My brain is all mushy since you’ve taken over my kitchen. So . . .”

Finch put the pot on the stove with a nod of understanding. “Painfully single for the last three months. I had a bad breakup which left me searching for a place. You?”

“No, I haven't had one for a while. Constantly looking though.” Albert grinned, eyebrows raised. “So, what are you making me for dinner?”

Finch rummaged through the cupboard again, coming out victoriously with a grater. “Figured you can’t go wrong with mac and cheese . . . unless you’re allergic to cheese or wheat?”

“Nope and nope. You’re good there. But I am allergic to shellfish.” Albert grinned, as a phone dinged with an incoming text. They both moved to look at their phones. Albert groaned, letting his head hit the cupboard behind him.

“Duly noted. You okay over there?” Finch said adding some salt to the pot watching lazy bubbles bubbled in the water.

Albert threw his phone down on the counter with a sigh. “Big family to do this weekend that I’m slightly not looking forward to.”

“Big family?” Finch asked, opening the box of noodles before pouring them into the boiling water.

He nodded, flipping through the photos on his phone before stopping at a family photo, showing it to Finch. “Adopted family. Jack and Race are my older brothers. Romeo is my younger brother and Smalls is the only girl and my younger sister. Jack and Race’s significant others will be there as well. It’s pure mayhem and craziness.”

“Wow big family. Any nieces or nephews?” Finch asked, quickly stirring the noodles before turning the heat down slightly. “Also, make yourself useful and grate the cheese.”

Albert grabbed a plate from the drying rack before starting to do what he was told. “Jack and his wife Katherine have a little girl named Emmie and they’re pregnant with their second; they’re not finding out the gender because they want to be surprised.” Albert rolled his eyes. “Race and his husband Spot are in the process of adopting a little girl named Noelle. They’re hoping to finalize the adoption in the upcoming weeks. So it’s even more mayhem with littles around.”

“That’s gotta be fun. It’s just me and my younger sister so there’s not much mayhem when we all get together.” Finch shrugged, watching Albert for a second. “I don’t even want to ask but you do have butter in the fridge, right?”

Smirking, a chuckle escaped Albert’s mouth. “Yes, I have butter and milk as well for your info.”

“So when you referenced that a very important person told you to stop wasting your money on take out, who were you referring to?” Finch asked as he drained the noodles in the strainer before dumping them back into the pot. He quickly grabbed the milk and butter from the fridge before adding a bit of both to the pot as Albert dumped the cheese in.

“That would be my sister-in-law, Katherine.” Albert said with a roll of his eyes. “She stopped by last week and couldn’t believe all of the takeout containers in the trash and fridge. One hastily worded text message was sent to my momma and I got a strongly worded lecture on how I’m 25 and should be able to cook and fend for myself.”

Finch threw his head back laughing loudly, taking a brief pause from stirring the mac and cheese together. “Well, I’m 26 and I get the lecture all the time about dusting and vacuuming.”

“So you feel my pain.” Albert exclaimed with a grin. “But I’m thankful for all that momma has done and will happily take her strongly worded lectures on any given day, even if they’re a lil intense and leave me a little bit frightened for my life.”

Finch nodded, and with a final stir, he clapped his hand together. “Alright, I think this is ready. Bowls?”

Albert grabbed two from the drying rack. “Alright, here’s the truest test - fork or spoon?”

“Spoon, why kind of heathen do you think I am?” Finch exclaimed as Albert shook his head.

“The kind that uses a spoon in mac and cheese rather than a fork.” Albert deadpanned, giving him a look as he drew out both a spoon and a fork from the drawer. “You’re an absolute heathen and I’m almost ashamed to know you.”

Finch dished some up in each bowl with a smirk, handing one to him as he grabbed the spoon from Albert’s hand. “Almost ashamed? You mean our beautiful friendship might live to see another day?”

“I mean, we’ll see how you did with the mac and cheese but I’d say this could live to see many days, weeks, and possibly years.” Albert said, stabbing several noodles with his fork before putting them in his mouth. He wasn’t ashamed that the most ungodly moan escaped his mouth. “Holy shit, this is amazing.”

Finch laughed, spooning some into his own mouth. “Want to amend your words about keeping me around?”

“How about you go on a date with me first and we’ll see where things go from there?” Albert raised an eyebrow in a challenge.

Finch nodded. “That can be arranged. What are you doing tomorrow night?”

“Apparently not getting take out and going out with you somewhere?” Albert bit back, before stabbing additional noodles and continuing to eat.

Finch grinned. “It’s a date.”

Thank you for reading! Many thanks to @cutesiewooren for being the ultimate cheerleader! So what did you think? If I was to continue this, what would you like to see? Any feedback would be lovely and would make my day!

[depressedkakashihatake-fics]

A Kiss Goodbye

Hatake Kakashi/Tenzo Yamato

1562 words

Kiss: Mail Kiss

For: @tenzoyamato​

Dear Senpai, Kakashi,

Dear Kakashi,

            There are few times where I question the importance of a mission, and I really do understand the importance of this one. Keeping Naruto and Bee away from the war is the best course of action to ensure that they are safe.

            But was I really necessary for this mission? I guess I just wish there was more than I could do. I know that you’d tell me I’m needed here. That if anything goes wrong I’m the only one who can keep the Kyubi under control, and that Naruto needs someone from the team here with him. At least that way maybe he won’t question what’s going on as much, and won’t try to run off to a war we’re trying so desperately to keep him out of.

            Still, a part of me wishes that I wasn’t here right now. That Gai could take care of things and I could help you. Be by your side. Hear a little less Rap music in my days. Maybe I could keep my sanity for just a bit longer if I wasn’t tasked with playing babysitter to the two more ridiculous jinjuuriki that could have ever been created.

            Seriously, are all Jinjuurki like this automatically? Is Gaara-san the only level headed one to ever exist?

            I guess what I’m saying, what I wish had happened, is that I was still with you. That I could be by your side, making sure that you’re ok. That someone has your back in this war. After all, we both know how reckless you can be, Senpai. I used to think that you had no regard for your life back when we were on Team Ro together, and maybe that was true.

            Maybe sometimes it’s still true. Even after all these years you’re still not the best at taking care of yourself in the field. Someone has to make sure you come home alive, and I’d prefer it to be me.

            I guess this is all a really long way of saying what has been on my mind for the past few months. Ever since I was put in charge of Team seven while you were healing, it has been at the back of my mind. Nagging me constantly, and it only got worse when I saw you again.

            I missed you.

            All those years of seeing you maybe once a month between missions, and knowing I wasn’t there to protect you during your own missions. Knowing that if anything happened to you I would never get to tell you how I feel.

            How much I need you in my life.

            How much I love you.

            That’s been eating at me the most these days. We’re in the middle of a war that could lead to the end of everything that we know and love, and all I can think about is how much I love you. How I’ve loved you for the past few years, though I’m not quite sure when I realized it.

            How this could be the last chance I ever have to tell you what you mean to me, and I can’t think of what else to say. What words could possibly explain the extent of these feelings that I’ve been trying so desperately to ignore.

            How I may never see you again, and I can’t imagine anything more heartbreaking.

            Love, Tenzo.

There’s an eerie silence on the battlefield. No one chatting outside the temporary camp, no words of celebration or comfort to be heard anywhere nearby. Just silence. Agonizing silence that allowed the thoughts running through his mind to echo, a never ending repetition.

I love you.

His eyes scan over the words over and over again, trying desperately to understand them. To comprehend why Tenzo was saying them now, in a note that he had written in the middle of the ocean while tucked away in some small room a world away from Kakashi. 

Why he hadn’t told him earlier, when he could do something.

Before everything went wrong.

He can’t help but reread the letter once more, searching for anything that he might have missed. Nothing changes and he can’t help but feeling frustrated about it. 

“What did i miss?” He didn’t mean to speak out loud, but hearing them somehow helps him recognize the emotions boiling up inside of him. The jumble of feelings that he couldn’t quite understand as he was reading the letter the first few times.

Anger, at himself for missing the signs that he knows must have been there. Clear as day to anyone with a functioning pair of eyes and a basic understanding of emotions. 

Confusion. Why him? Out of everyone that Tenzo could have fallen in love with, why did it have to be him? Konoha’s resident disaster. Couldn’t Tenzo have done better? Didn’t he know that falling in love with ‘friend-killer’ Kakashi was doomed to fail?

Hurt. Deep down inside of his chest it squeezes his heart in a painful grasp. One that makes it difficult to breathe. A pain that Kakashi hasn’t felt for a long time. One that he had thought, hoped, had finished haunting him.

He can feel the panic starting to set in as his fingers curl into the delicate paper, crumpling it even when he tries desperately to prevent himself from doing any damage to the letter.

The last thing that he has left of Tenzo.

The only thing he may ever receive from Tenzo ever again.

His thoughts spiral out of control, and the pain in his chest only gets worse. A deep, throbbing hurt that sinks further into his heart the more he thinks about Tenzo. The way Tenzo would smile at him when they greeted each other. That look of disapproval that would cement itself on Tenzo’s face when Kakashi did something that he didn’t like. The brush of his hands against his arm when they were just a little too close.

The smell of lavender and oak that always clung to Tenzo’s skin. Scents that had become so familiar to Kakashi over the years after nights of sleeping curled around Tenzo during Anbu missions, hoping that his body would protect the Mokuton user in case of attack. 

Scents that had only ever been connected to Tenzo, and which seemed to stick to his nose now even though Tenzo was nowhere in sight. 

“This isn’t-you’re not supposed to…” His fingers curl into a fist, crunching the letter in his grasp. His brain screams at him to calm down. He has a war to fight. Plans to make. People are relying on him to be a leader and help them survive this damn war, but he can’t.

Not right now.

Not when his heart is bursting with hurt. 

“Tenzo.” his voice falters, unsure of what it’s trying to say. What words could be said in a moment like this? Would they bring Tenzo back? Would it be enough to save the Mokuton user from ever being captured by Kabuto in the first place? 

Forcing his hand open, he looked down at the crumpled letter staring up at him. He can still see the words that haunted him, the ones that refused to leave him alone.

I love you

He wanted to scream. To demand an explanation from the universe for why this always had to happen. Why those three simple words haunted him over and over again. Always taking those he cared about away from him after they dared to say those words to him.

“Why?” somehow his heart breaks a little bit more, and he can’t help but curl into himself and press his hands against his head. The letter is crushed completely in his grip, but he doesn’t care anymore. It’s just paper.

Just words that Tenzo was never able to say to his face.

Words that he’ll never be able to hear for himself.

It’s like a kiss against his lips, left behind by a ghost. A kiss he’ll never be able to taste for himself, existing only on the face of Tenzo’s letter.

A tease, for something he can never have for himself.

The pain in his chest worsens, and his fingers twitch against his head as the tears start to slide down his face. Each breath he draws in burns, like he’s swallowing fire. He’s not sure what’s happening around him anymore, only registering the moment that an arm comes down around his shoulders and pulls him right up against a solid body.

Gai.

It has to be Gai. No one else would interrupt him. No one had the courage to approach him when he’s in this state, preferring to back out and leave well enough alone if they are unfortunate enough to walk in on him during a bad spiral. 

No one else knew about the letter, except for Gai. The one who had found it tucked away in Tenzo’s things after Kabuto’s attack, and gave it to Kakashi. The only person who knew what Kakashi might be going through at this moment.

He doesn’t relax the same way he usually would with his friend by his side. Not tonight. He just curls up into himself and hides his face away in Gai’s chest, thankful that his friend knew when to show up.

That he didn’t have to be alone when the pain became unbearable.

[elowenp]

New Fic!!

Word count: 1,338

Summary: Luz feels guilty all the time.

It wouldn't be so bad if she didn't know that she deserved it.

~

“But you can do magic here, isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?” Willow asks.

“How can you miss being there when you fit in so much better here?” Gus says.

“They didn’t deserve you.” Amity snorts, like it’s obvious.

~

Fic under the cut!

Luz feels guilty all the time now.

Not guilty enough that she’s consumed by it. Not guilty enough that it stops her from doing anything. It’s just something in the background, something that pulls at her a little as she runs and fights and generally enjoys life more than she ever has before.

She mentions it to her friends. They don’t quite understand it.

“But you can do magic here, isn’t that all you’ve ever wanted?” Willow asks.

“How can you miss being there when you fit in so much better here?” Gus says.

“They didn’t deserve you.” Amity snorts, like it’s obvious.

The last one makes Luz feel something different. She hopes she’ll figure out what sometime soon, once the guilt has ebbed away and there’s enough room for her to step back and look at her thoughts from a distance. Once there’s enough room that she might be able to examine the shape they take.

The problem is that Luz isn’t even guilty for what she’s done. If all she had done to her mom was leave her all alone in a different dimension then Luz wouldn’t even be feeling bad. It’s what Luz is going to do that keeps the low buzzing of guilt close.

Because Luz is never going back.

How could she? How could she return to a world where she can’t do magic, where she never fit in?

(where they didn’t deserve her)

Luz would do anything to stay in the Boiling Isles forever and considering the fact that all she has to do is not leave? Luz would have to have some twisted sort of mind to want to go back.

Her mom was going to send her to send her somewhere to get her imagination stamped out of her for three months. What if Luz returned and she tried to do that again? Then she might never get an opportunity to return to the Boiling Isles and then-

Then Luz would be feeling significantly worse things than a little guilt buzzing at the edge of her consciousness.

So she stays.

~

Luz is staring at the door that would take her back home.

Eda looks at her from over the cover of her magazine. “You planning to set that on fire, kid?”

“Yeah.” Luz answers without remembering that she probably shouldn’t be saying that sort of thing. Oh well, she thinks. It’s not like Eda’s going to judge her.

Eda puts down her magazine and raises a judging eyebrow in Luz’s direction.

Luz looks back at her and narrows her eyes. They’ve never talked about Luz going home and she had really been enjoying that status quo. “Your eyebrows are judging me.” she informs Eda. Just in case she wasn’t aware yet.

She nods slowly. “Yeah, they tend to do that kid.” She pauses. Like she needs some time to come to terms with the unprecedented fact that Luz would do anything not to stay here forever. “Bet it’s ‘cause they were wondering why you were going to set your only way back home on fire.”

“I guess that would make sense.” Luz answers, “It would kind of be an odd thing for me to do, from the perspective of your eyebrows.” She tries her best to look serious since this is a serious conversation despite how they’re both pretending that it isn’t.

They stare each other down for a while.

King comes and interrupts before either of them can break the stalemate. Eda looks particularly affronted when this happens, like whenever she’s avoiding telling Luz something she doesn’t use this exact same trick.

It’s odd. Luz thought Eda would have realised she’s a fast learner by now.

~

In a particularly unexpected turn of events it’s Lilith that ends of being the one to confront Luz about the whole thing.

She just had a fight with Eda. Obviously. Because the only time Luz ever runs into Lilith is when she’s just about to fight Eda or when they’ve just finished. It ends in a draw, like it always does, and Luz wonders why Lilith keeps coming back to fight Eda when she must know that it’s going to end the same way it always does.

Luz voices these opinions and Lilith squints at her with an expression that reminds her of Eda and her judge-y eyebrows. “Do humans not have families?” she asks, her tone full of honest confusion.

Luz isn’t quite sure how to answer that. She stays silent, waiting for King to interrupt like last time but remembers that King isn’t actually here right now and decides not to answer anyway. Maybe she’ll get lucky and someone else will interrupt.

“Well?” Lilith prompts, impatient now. “Do you have a family, human?”

Luz opens and closes her mouth a couple of times, “Why do you care?” she asks, which isn’t her best comeback but does the job of allowing her to avoid the question.

Lilith has the gall to roll her eyes. “I care about precisely two people in the Boiling Isles.” She holds up two fingers to illustrate her point. “My awful sister,” She puts a finger down, “and my wonderful protege.” She puts the other finger down so that her hand is in the shape of a fist. An irrational part of Luz’s brain wonders if she’s about to get punched. “So I think it’s understandable enough that I might like to know if the human that has the full adoration of my two favourite people might be leaving them someday soon.”

“Nope,” Luz starts backing away cause Lilith looks kind of angry and hence very scary, “No one’s leaving here. I am a-okay staying right here. Forever.”

“Oh.” Lilith says, expression turning surprised. Her eyes aren’t narrowed anymore and it makes them look far larger than normal. “I thought you were leaving.”

Luz looks at Lilith and feels something full of far too familiar guilt stirring in her chest. “That’s weird. I’ve never thought that before.” she says, because it’s true.

“But you have a family?” Lilith says because even if her and Luz don’t talk much she’s still one of the smartest people Luz knows, which is saying something since Luz is surrounded by geniuses these days.

“Yep. I’m staying though.”

Lilith frowns. “You should visit them. Family’s important.” Luz can feel herself starting to back away, the buzz of guilt rising again, but Lilith interrupts before she can get very far. “I’m sure that either Amity or Eda would drag you back before you could be gone for too long anyway.”

The words cause Luz to freeze. She hadn’t thought of that before.

Lilith had clearly been aiming for the comment to sound offhand, an afterthought, but from the way she’s a little tenser than normal Luz can tell that she really was trying to reassure her. It makes Luz wonder it Lilith might have enough room in her heart to care about three people one day.

“I’ll think about it.” she promises.

Luz keeps her eyes fixed firmly on the floor as she says it but she can tell that the words make Lilith smile a little anyway.

~

Luz really does think about it. She thinks about it constantly, replaces the buzz of guilt with wonderings over whether she trusts that her loved ones have their claws dug into her deep enough that they could never let her go.

One night, lying in bed and wondering the same things as always, she comes to the conclusion that she does. After the certainty has settled itself in her bones she has the best nights sleep she’s had in weeks.

In the morning she decides that she’ll wait a little. Let the certainty sink in a bit deeper. Let the amount she loves the people she’s surrounded herself with grow until the idea she won’t be able to return becomes ridiculous.

But then the Emperor comes and the portal burns and none of it really matters.

Luz starts feeling guilty again. She doubts she’ll ever stop.

[jjba-hell]

Fate and Fortune

Ok so this one I just HAD to do and you’ll see why in my next chapter. Might switch over to a Part every two days since y’know- life but here ya go.

For the moots: @fyre23 and @risottoneroo (you’ll like the end I promise)

Part 12

When they ended up in Saudi Arabia, the first trip Vera had to take was to the clothing shop. Out of customary respect she had to switch to a considerably more conservative choice of clothes, slipping out of the shop to meet Polnareff outside. “It must be boiling underneath. Are you alright?”

“Oh you’d be surprised how cool this fabric is.” She gave a twirl of black fabric. “Also, this isn’t my first time here, Avdol and I...” she forgot she needed to be mourning him in front of Polnareff.

He placed a gentle hand in her shoulder, giving his best sympathetic smile. “I understand you had many adventures while you waited for him to be your confirmed guardian?”

She nodded, wringing the strap of her bag over her shoulder. In truth she did miss him terribly, but unlike Polnareff she knew he was still breathing. “It was more trying to understand ourselves and helping developing stand users. Unfortunately the true niche of his research he kept even from me.”

The hopped in the car- Vera sliding into the front seat while the others were speaking on their next steps on the journey. She figured they’d have to cross the desert sooner or later but she still dreaded the intense heat they’d have to travel through- even though, she supposed, she was best accustomed to the heat.

Or at least she hoped.

After guzzling enough water to last her well into the night and smothering her face in sunscreen she lead the camel to its knees with a handful of grass and hopped on. Vera admittedly had some experience doing this but she wasn’t going to teach the others how to do it- it was, after all, so entertaining to watch Mr Joestar struggle a bit. “I’m sorry- I though you had experience with camels, Mr Joestar.”

She tossed an apple in front of her camel and hopped off to help- moving to Polnareff first. “Honestly Polnareff, I’ve taken trips to Paris- surely you’re aware of the state of the town isn’t that cleanly as you make it out to be.”

Vera wrapped the grey scarf around his head and neck loosely, letting him lure his own camel down. Once he was up she moved to Kakyoin who was constantly looking over his shoulder. “Do you feel... watched, by any chance?”

“I’m not sure- I kind of feel like my intution’s been thrown off since Pakistan. Everything feels kind of off- like I’m just constantly....phasing?”

His hand slid up her covered arm, brows knitting in concern. “Jotaro told me the night terrors were rough last night. Are you sure you wouldn’t ride with one of us?”

She bit back to wide of a small, playing with the extra fabric of the shawl on his shoulders. With a playful snap she pulled him a bit closer, standing on her tiptoes as she kissed his cheek.

His cheeks dusted a lovely pink color and she couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re sweet but I’m still prideful- much like you.” She gazed up at him through her fluttering lashes before moving back to the task at hand.

If they were really being watched then she was hoping she just placed a target on her back. How much Dio was letting his minions know was still debatable but if they believed her to be vulnerable then that was all she needed.

To drive the point home she came to Jotaro who had seemed to manage just fine on his own- strapping the water to his steed in silence while Mr Joestar was floundering about. “You also feel watched?”

He only nodded, turning to look her head on. “I think Star would have seen something by now, wouldn’t he?”

It seemed the same thought crossed Jotaro’s mind- his gaze moving to look out over the horizon- as if he’d see what it was that was watching them.

Moving with Jotaro was slow but she took the moment to hold out her hand to him which he took, softly entertwining their fingers together as she moved to block her from view of the rest. “Are you sure you can make it through? I know you didn’t get much sleep in.”

She squeezed his hand, laughing at how both the boys thought she was only coming to them for aid. “I think I can handle myself just fine, JoJo.”

It was her turn to make the move- she squeezed his hand gently then moved in for a casual hug before moving on ahead with the journey.

Vera had believed she was used to the heat, that the sweltering fire beating down on her was normal and it would be over soon but the sun didn’t move. When they stopped a moment and realized the time she knew something was very very wrong. “Eight? As in 20 hundred?”

She moved closer to Jotaro to check and the realization hit her hard. “It must be a stand.”

“Vera, can’t you make it return to its user?” Polnareff asked but she was already off her camel and heading towards the rock nearby.

“No. Stands define Fortune.” Her back hit the rock with a thud and with a heavy swallow she tried to gather her thoughts. “It has to be short ranged- the power that thing holds is vile. So where could the user be?”

She materialized Fortune from her and allowed them to start walking straight ahead of them. Kakyoin used Hierophant Green to spread out and look as well.

She had to pull back quickly after Kakyoin got injured by the barrage of flames raining down on the group. And that’s how you ended up in the a hole in the ground sweating through your eyeballs.

“Jotaro- do you ever get tired of using Star Platinum vigorously?” She wondered out loud, laying down on her back. “Or haven’t you quite tried.”

“The latter. I know- waiting this out isn’t going to work out, is it?”

She shook her head- putting her feet up on the bigger water canteen she’d phased into the cave. If only her head would work long enough to think straight she could have come up with a solution but she couldn’t even turn back the time on their bodies.

When Kakyoin finally broke out in a laughing fit she thought she’d lose him. Then Jotaro joined and she knew it was too late. Vera sat up and tried to bring Fortune closer to reverse the possible brain damage from the heat but Kakyoin only took her wrist gently, pulling her snug against him and showing precisely what they were laughing at.

“Oh for fuck’s sake.” She had Fortune move out of the cave and toss the stone at the mirror they’d been looking out on and soon enough the sun was gone and the sparkling night sky took its place.

The second it was allowed she was first to March out of the cave after the stand user. “Motherfucker!” She shouted up at the sky at the sight of the user dislodged from his perfectly little air conditioned spot behind the mirror.

“Took the stand meaning a bit literal there, didn’t he?”

They made camp after the abused the residual heat from the stand battle before settling in for camp. Of course someone had to keep watch and none other the Jotaro volunteered.

Vera was glad Kakyoin and Jotaro seemed a bit less phased by her presence with one another than before. What she wasn’t expecting was finding Kakyoin leaving Jotaro’s look out spot- looking awfully disheveled and finding none other than Jotaro without a jacket.

It took everything out of Vera to not cackle out in glee- instead letting a smile crack through the facade as Jotaro tried to cover the hickeys on his neck with a palm. “I could heal that for you, or is too personal?”

He didn’t answer, almost looking as if he felt ashamed of what he had done until she stripped off her head dress and top to sit beside him in her tank top as well. “Hey, relax- I’ve messed around with more girls than guys anyway.”

Another quizzical look which earned him a shrug. “My boarding school’s divided- curiosity was bound to take over. Kind of realized I didn’t have a preference- boys are just a bit meaner though.”

Jotaro had to clear his throat to say, “I thought I knew until you came along. Girls annoy the shit out of me so I thought I knew but-“

He ran a hand over his hair, Vera only then noticing that his cap was missing. “I don’t know.” He growled in frustration. She moved in closer, touching his cheek to let him look at her. “I’m not mad, you know. I’m not asking answers either. All I ask is the same curtesy.”

It was a side-tracked idea she hadn’t considered in a long time but which one, if any, of the two she was in love with- she wasn’t sure- then they turn around and like each other and suddenly it seemed both less and more complicated. Could they all be content with a polycule. She hadn’t noticed she was overthinking until Jotaro brought both his hands to cup her face, looking her in the eye and asking. “Can I kiss you?”

She must have seemed shocked because he added, “Just so I can make sure?”

And in that moment it felt impersonal, as if they were just two idiots trying to traverse a topic neither one could think through. “Yeah.” Was all she answered as her hand wrapped around his left wrist and their lips met.

He was clumsy with his kiss, that was for sure. She couldn’t decide if it was the inexperience or simply because his face- and therefore lips- simply dwarfed her own but it was wet and all she could taste was mint cigarette and something fruity she couldn’t quite place.

When he moved away, they stared at each other in disbelief and she couldn’t help but sigh. “Please tell me I’m not the only one that liked that.”

[themagicalreads]

Unexpected Detour (Prompt)

I’M LATE I’M LATE I’M LATE. I KNOW. But here (ps, the italics worked on this one???):

~

“This is an automated distress message from Vault-Tec: Vault 101. Message begins: It feels like you left home a long time ago, but I know you're still out there. I just hope you're still alive to hear this. Things got worse after you left. The new Overseer is insane. If you can hear this, please stop looking for your dad and help save us. I changed the door password to my name. If you're hearing this, and you still care enough to help me, you should remember it. Message repeats.”

Rapunzel listened to the emergency frequency one last time before switching it off. She sat on a boulder just outside Megaton, gazing in the distance to where she knew Vault-101 lay. She couldn’t go back… Not after how she’d left things.

Not after she’d…

Please stop looking for your dad and help us. Merida’s voice replaced the empty sounds of Wasteland wildlife around her. Rapunzel and Merida had been best friends ever since she and her parents arrived at the Vault. Rapunzel hadn’t remembered much of anything from her childhood in the Wasteland. They were the first outsiders to their knowledge knew to enter a sealed Vault, and the only reason they were even let in in the first place was because the Overseer had been so desperate for a doctor, and her dad was the best of the best. She’d learned that no one left or entered any of the Commonwealth Vaults, because the outside world was much too dangerous—and it was, what with the raiders, and the enclave, and the mutations running freely about. But it was far from being uninhabitable as they’d made it seem in class. Megaton itself proved just that.

“Welcome. To. Megaton,” she heard the protectron say over the wind. “Friendliest. Town. Around.”

Rapunzel whipped her head back to see a caravan had approached the entrance. She’d come down from Galaxy News Radio for news, and a quick supply hunt at the Super Duper Mart on the way. She had a mission to do. But what if this was a bigger story than Tenpenny Tower’s failed attempt to detonate Megaton’s notorious bomb? Heck, maybe Tadashi, Vault-101’s scientist, might know how to finally diffuse it, making Three Dog’s original news source essentially worthless compared to this.

But despite all of the rational excuses Rapunzel found to follow Merida’s distress signal, she knew the underlying reason she wanted to go so badly was because she was curious to see how the people she’d grown up with had made out after her departure. She hadn’t even meant to leave that dreary morning. She’d expected to spend her life following Vault-101’s motto, we are born in the vault, we live in the vault, and we die in the vault. If dad hadn’t upped and run away without a word, that might very well have been her life. Though, she supposed the motto and she hadn’t exactly been on the brightest of terms when her mother gave birth to her in the Wasteland.

She’d met Three Dog, the anchor of Galaxy News Radio and one of her dads old friends, about a week after she’d run away from the Vault. He knew a lot about her past, something he let her know quite quickly. He knew she, her parents, and aunt Gothel had been born out here, in the Wasteland themselves. But he also knew it had been in a faraway place called Boston. He also confessed that he’d seen her dad pass by not too long after she showed up. After spending an entire day running around DC as him and his radio’s personal scavenger, he finally told her what mission her dad had been so set on.

And the truth scared Rapunzel to bits.

She shook her head for a few seconds, running a hand through her ponytail while she stared at the Pip-Boy on her other wrist. The caravan rolled past her on the dirt road. Rapunzel gazed at the two-headed brahmin with the heaps of luggage strapped to its back. They were most likely heading toward Springvale, the wreckage of a town just outside the Vault.

Rapunzel stood, shaking the dirt off of her pants. Merida was asking her to help. Her. Thing’s must’ve gotten pretty bad in the Vault after she’d escaped, then, if she was willing to reach out to her so easily. She looked back at Megaton with a sigh. Three Dog would understand that she couldn’t just walk away.

She never could.

***

M-E-R-I-D-A. Access granted, the keypad flashed before a hiss of air sounded and the now-familiar alarm started beeping. Oh so slowly, the gear-shaped door of Vault-101 pulled backwards and rolled itself open. Rapunzel wasted no time running inside before anyone could seal it back up but, to her utter surprise, there was no one in sight when she made it in. She hurried up the metal stairs and closed the door back up herself. She knew keeping it open was smarter in regards to keeping a quick escape route available if she found herself unwelcome, but she refused to risk another radroach infestation like her dad did when he left—or worse.

Rapunzel gripped the pistol at her hip as she slowly walked toward the door she knew would lead to her old home. Something felt off. It was too quiet.

Suddenly, the door slid open before her. Rapunzel gasped, yanking out her pistol for fire.

“Stop right there!” Officer Haddock exclaimed, crumbs still stuck to his chin. “How did you get in—? Wait,” he looked Rapunzel up and down in bewilderment. “It’s you. The Overseer ordered me to bring you to her if you ever came back.”

“Her?” Rapunzel questioned, Merida’s distress signal running through her head. “It’s nice to see you again, Officer Haddock, but could you tell me who, exactly, was chosen as Overseer after Dunbroch…” died. The word hung loosely in the air, too horrible to speak aloud.

Officer Haddock hiccupped a laugh. “Chosen really isn’t the word I’d use here.” He shifted the grip on his gun, glancing behind him. “Listen, Punzel,” he whispered. “I know who you are—sweet as doll, just like your parents were. But I’ll be honest, not a lot of people like you in the Vault no more. I’ll do you the same favour I did your dad—leave the Vault quietly and don’t get trapped inside our mess. No one’s gonna know you stopped by but me.”

It was a good offer, but Rapunzel shook her head. “I heard Merida’s distress signal. She was my best friend, I can’t just ignore her.”

Officer Haddock lowered his head as if this was exactly the answer he’d expected. “Your heart’s too big, kid. But go see her. And please, for the sake of me keeping my limbs—don’t let the Overseer see I let you through without bringing you to her, okay?”

“I won’t let her hurt you,” Rapunzel promised. Even though she and Hiccup Haddock had never been close friends, she could never bear the thought of him losing his father to her, too. Officer Haddock opened the door to the hall for her. The first thing she noticed when she reached the second floor were the barricades. The second, was how incredibly unorganized and unclean the Vault had become.

What in the world had happened here?

“And if it isn’t my little blondie.” A voice suddenly said. “Never thought I’d see the day.”

Rapunzel whipped around to see a familiar Tunnel Snake leaning against a makeshift wall behind her. She scowled, despite the heat rushing to her cheeks, and crossed her arms. “I’m not yours, Jack.”

“Never said you were.” Jack lifted a dark brow. “But I gotta say, the Vault hasn’t been the same without you to play with.”

“You’re really calling you and your gang bullying my best friend playing?” Rapunzel exclaimed, an anger she only ever felt around him boiling through her heart. “You’re absolutely ridiculous, Jack DeLoria. You know that, right?”

Jack smirked. “Don’t take it too personally when I say the rest of the Vault doesn’t exactly share your opinion. Well, other than your crazy—”

“That’s because the rest of the Vault is scared of you!” Rapunzel interrupted with a sharp exhale. “I don’t understand why. You’re nothing but a terrified momma’s boy.”

Jack flinched slightly at her words, something she only slightly relished in. Rapunzel had saved her from getting chewed up by radroaches just before her escape. Jack himself had been the one to beg for her help, given his phobia of the giant critters. If she’d have stayed any longer, she might have been able to use it against him the next time he tried harassing she and Merida.

“How is she, by the way?”

“Fine.” Jack quickly shot out.

“Really?” Rapunzel questioned.

Jack suddenly couldn’t meet her eyes, almost making Rapunzel feel bad for pushing. “Let’s just say she decided she liked getting drunk a bit too much. Not someone I like being around.” He brightened, suddenly, as much as the leader of the Tunnel Snakes could. “Besides, I have other things to worry about. A lot of us here wanna get out of this hell hole. So, tell me, blondie, how’d you manage to get past Officer Haddock?”

Rapunzel shook her head, unable to believe how quickly he’d changed the topic. Was he really so detached from his emotions he couldn’t even talk about what happened with his own mom? Last Rapunzel had checked, Mrs. Deloria was the complete opposite of her son—kind, and warm. So what made her shift her dependence from constantly being around people to alcohol?

Suddenly, the rest of what Jack said registered to Rapunzel’s head. “You want to leave? Why?”

It was Jack’s turn now to cross his arms. He took a step closer. “And here I thought you weren’t as brain-dead as the others. We’ve always wanted to leave, the Tunnel Snakes and I. Now that the Vault’s in shambles, it’s our time to shine.”

“If you can get past Officer Haddock.” Rapunzel argued. “I’m guessing he doesn’t want his little boy wandering out into the dangerous Wasteland, huh?”

Jack shifted closer. “Ah, and there’s the smarts I know.”

“Shut it, Deloria.”

“So harsh!” Jack lay his hand flat against his chest. “You break my heart.”

Rapunzel cocked her head. “I wasn’t aware you had one. Good to know.”

A slow smirk found itself to Jack’s lips again, warning he was about to say something particularly irritable. “And why’s that? Punzel’s got the hot’s for Jack-y?”

Rapunzel groaned in annoyance, forcing herself to hold her stance even when she noticed how close Jack had gotten. “Where’s Merida?” She demanded, forcing the conversation back to the point. “I’m sure you’d know, considering you know everything.”

“Right I do.” Jack walked backwards, pulling the tension from Rapunzel’s stomach away with him. He waved her to the side. “Follow me.”

Jack led her inside the classroom, where the rest of the Snakes and Merida stood. “Look who I found wandering around,” Jack announced.

Merida’s piercing blue eyes shot to Rapunzel’s, filled with a thousand knives. Understandably, Rapunzel thought. She hadn’t meant for her father to die. “You got my message,” she said. “Good. About time you showed up, too. Gotta say, I thought you’d be too busy with your freedom to remember us, so believe me when I say I’m glad to see you.”

“I think you have my ego levels mixed up with Jack’s,” Rapunzel commented.

“Yeah?” Merida cocked her head. “Then prove it. Help us take down the Overseer, and leave this damned Vault. I still haven’t forgiven you for murdering my father, but I might consider it if you help us.”

“Mer,” Rapunzel tried. “You know it was an accident, right? Please, you know I would never—"

“Alright,” Jack interrupted. “Enough with the heart to hearts. Let’s go, yeah? Blondie, you come with me.”

“What?” Rapunzel shot. “I’m not going anywhere with you, thank you very much.”

“Oh, but you’re gonna like this,” Jack smiled dangerously, dangling a piece of rope in the air. “You get to tie me up and pull my gorgeous hair.”

Rapunzel scowled, glancing at the others to see if he was joking. “What are you going on about?”

“Your aunt wants the Tunnel Snakes taken down, and she wants you even more,” Merida explained, somewhat impatiently. She put a finger to her bright red hair, which was pulled tightly into a low bun. “You’re going to bring her to him, and put a bullet in her crazed head.”

Rapunzel flinched away from the group, astounded by the absurd demand. “Excuse me?” She said. Aunt Dame would never do such a thing to Vault-101. She’d not once expressed a desire to become the Overseer either—that position was to be Merida’s father’s until his old age.

“I don’t know why she’s so obsessed,” Merida said. “But I’m not leaving the Vault with her in charge.”

“Dame’s been nothing but kind!”

“A nice façade,” Hiccup said from behind Merida. “Fooled all of us.”

Rapunzel couldn’t believe it—wouldn’t until she saw it with her own eyes. So she grabbed the rope out of Jack’s fingers, spun him around, and wrapped his wrists up tight.

“The Wasteland’s done you good,” there was a hint of veiled humour in Jack’s tone as she let him go. He tested the rope’s hold, but it didn’t give. “If I would’ve known you were this feisty—”

Rapunzel grabbed a heap of chocolate brown hair and yanked him out of the room with her.

“You know, blondie,” Jack struggled. “You don’t actually have to pull my hair until we get to the Overseer’s office.”

“I know.”

Jack chuckled. “Can’t wait for you to tell me all about the Wasteland when we get outta here. I bet it’s good stuff.”

Rapunzel froze briefly. Did he honestly think she’d bring him back to Galaxy News Radio? Not a chance. If Jack wanted out so bad, he was going alone, with his precious Tunnel Snakes. “In your dreams.” She said.

“I don’t have dreams. Just reality.”

“Reality has a track record of getting awfully boring,” Rapunzel said. “Maybe that’s why you’re as horrible as you are.”

Suddenly, Rapunzel’s feet were swept right out from under her. She fell back into a room with Jack landing, (somewhat painfully), right on top of her. “You don’t really think that, do you, blondie?” His breath was so warm against her lips it sent shivers down her spine.

“I…” Was all she could manage before he started talking again.

“Because that would break my heart.” Rapunzel just had time to catch something dancing in his crystal blue eyes before his lips were upon hers. It was disgusting and wet the first few seconds, but then she found herself swimming in his kiss. He still couldn’t move his hands, so Rapunzel did it for him. She cupped his jaw, pulling the Snake closer and closer until everything disappeared but him.

She didn’t know why her body felt so compelled to ruin the moment.

“I��m resistant to the radiation!” She blurted out, shoving a hand to her lips. No one but her dad and Three Dog new that about her. It was why her dad had left in the first place—to study her. Though… Rumour had been going around lately about her situation, something that the radio had been trying hard to avoid talking about. The Saint. The ghoul that looks and talks like a human, but can’t possibly be.

Jack frowned, licking his lips. “And?”

“And,” Rapunzel continued, “that means I’m mutated. That I get to live longer than the average human. I’m a monster, even if I don’t look it like the other Ghouls. If the Wasteland knew it was me they’ve been hearing talk about…”

Jack rolled off of her, suddenly, something clicking in his eyes. “Of course!” He said. “That’s why Dame wants you so bad. She wants to know how you did it.”

Rapunzel sat up, sickness roiling through her body. “But she’s never known I was like this.”

Jack was shaking his head even before she started speaking. “Remember when she got put under lockdown? You were four, maybe.” How could she forget? “You visited her every day after class.”

Rapunzel nodded. “You made fun of me for it.”

“Yeah. Well, I read a paper in her files when you asked me to go steal yours. Said she’d gotten her well-deserved time out for sending a signal out to her sister and reading the ones that were coming in from the outside behind The Overseer’s back. She heard all of the stories about you. You and your parents showed up knocking at the door not too long after, and they actually let you in.”

Rapunzel nodded again. It was all she seemed to be able to do now. “You read the files about me.”

Jack shrugged. “Obviously.”

Rapunzel pushed his chest, furious. “I didn’t even read them! Dame just told me it was dangerous information that needed to be burnt away!”

“That didn’t make you wanna read em’ even more?”

“No!” Rapunzel closed her eyes. “I mean, yes, but she said it was safer for me if I didn’t know.”

Jack laughed. “Bull. Complete bull.” With a restrained swing, he pulled himself to standing. Rapunzel was quick to follow suit. Almost immediately, he nudged her shoulder with his own and pushed her against the steel wall, holding her with his hips. His kiss wasn’t nearly long enough. He completely pulled away, suddenly, and tipped his chin down with a smirk.

“Let’s go.”

Rapunzel slowly pushed her fingers through his hair and gripped. It only took a few words from Rapunzel to find out every suspicion Jack and his gang had about her aunt were true. It only took a carefully-placed bullet to the thigh to stop her from attacking her own niece. And it only took an inch of convincing for the dwellers to get the Wasteland freedom they’ve always deserved.

Though their fates were now irreversibly ripped to the open, Rapunzel knew one thing for certain:

Galaxy News Radio was in for one hell of a story.

[superbadassnatural]

Evil Amongst Us

Summary: Since Dean got the Mark of Cain, he’d been constantly on edge. It was impossible to keep his new behavior from permanently damaging your relationship. Pairing: MOC!Dean Winchester x Reader Word count: ~2.9k (wow, didn’t think it would be this long) Warnings: angst, blood, violence, angry Dean in a not-so-sexy way, character death A/N: This was written for @katymacsupernatural​ “Katy’s 6K Golden Challenge”. My prompt is the following aesthetic created by her. I kinda liked writing this. A bit different from what I wrote before. I hope you like as much as I did.

(x) (x)

Dean rolled over to your side, laying on his back. His body sinking down into the mattress, a heavy sigh leaving his plump lips. His bare chest rising and falling as he tried to even his breath.

“Well,” a chuckle left his lips. “That was- wow- that was amazing.” he glanced at the ceiling.

“Yeah, it was is,” you rolled onto your side, propping on your elbow. “It always is though.”

Your eyes scanned his figure. Your finger tracing different patterns along his chest. How come your relationship with Dean have come to this? Years of loving and caring for each other had turned into a relation based mostly on sex and stupid arguments over simple daily decisions.

Ever since Dean’s got the Mark of Cain, he’d become more aggressive. He had constantly been on edge. Any little thing that doesn’t go as he planned is a reason for him to lose his temper. You know he tries to keep it down. He tries effortlessly to hide his anger even more when he’s around you.

After quite some time since he got stuck with the Mark, you noticed he started to change around you. It had become harder and harder to find the Dean you love with all your heart in his green eyes or in the curve of his lips. It felt like he was slowly going away. You miss spending sunday nights watching some of your favorite movies and then cuddling until you fell asleep. You miss the hold of his hands, the constant praises that would just escape his lips, the look in his eyes when he woke up in the morning. And mostly you missed making love with him. When it comes to get in bed with Dean it’s just sex. It’s just away to seek some relief, to get off. He always gives you pleasure, but he’s not just as caring as he was before. There are no more praises, only some animal grunts. Therefore only few I love you’s are exchanged every now and then.

“What?” he ask. His eyes were still glued on the ceiling, but he could see you frown at his question. “What’s going on in this head of yours? You seem to be far away.”

“Just doing some thinking.” you laid your head on his chest. It had been a while since you did that. Lately, after sex he’d get up and go shower or grab something to eat. Sometimes he’d just sleep or take a nap. It was just like you weren’t there.

“About?”

“Us,” you sighed. As your voice echoed through his ears, his gaze fell on you. “About how much we’ve changed and how much I wish things got back to the way they were,”

“I know,” he whispered. You flinched at the touch of his hand on your back. The soft pad of his fingers tracing up and down your spine. “It might seem like I don’t, but I really wish I didn’t have this damn mark on my arm,” he almost exclaimed. “I wish I could be me again and not some shell of a man.”

“Things will get better,” you placed a kiss on his chest. Your lips lingering a little longer on his skin. “I promise.”

____________________________

“I can’t believe in what just happened,” you stormed into the bunker, following Dean down the stairs as you shut the door with a thud. “I mean, I could expect anything tonight, but this? Uh uh, never.”

Dean headed to the kitchen and grabbed a beer for him. He didn’t even bother to look you in the eyes.

While Sam was away in a hunt back in Ohio, you and Dean did some research and found some pretty interesting stuff. One of them was a vampire nest down Louisiana. It had been easier than you’d anticipated. Only four vamps. You and Dean handled it pretty good and fast. Before you could notice you were back in Kansas. You had the brilliant idea to go to a bar and have some drinks under the premise of celebrating your successful hunt. The truth is Dean was on edge today and you felt like he really needed to loosen up a little bit.

After a couple of beers Dean started to lighten up. He even made some jokes and let out a full laugh that you wouldn’t mind hearing everyday for the rest of your life. But after some more drinks he started to get a little erratic, like a small fire had started inside him. He was on edge again.

“Can you talk to me? Or at least look at me?” you challenged.

Dean turned to you with a roll of his eyes.

“What do you want me to say? That you are overreacting?” he snarled, pointing a finger at you. “Because you are,” he took a few steps towards you as his voice lowered. “You always do.”

“The hell I’m overreacting,” you exclaimed. You could feel your blood boiling at his nonchalant. “Yeah, because I should be thanking you for deciding to leave alone at the table we were, after spending a good time enjoying each other’s company, and going to the bartender to flirt with her,” you said through gritted teeth. “I’m sorry to remind you but you have a girlfriend. You’ve been dating her for the last three years.”

He didn’t said anything. His squinted green eyes focused on you and every movement of yours. His cheeks were now a bright red. Both from the alcohol and the growing anger. Dean rolled up the sleeves of his flannel, his eyes still on you.

“What am I to you, uh?” you crossed your arms in front of your chest as you waited for him to answer. He only looked down. “Look at me while I’m talking to you. What am I to you, Dean? Am I just a girl that you can get yourself off? Am I just here for your damn pleasure? So you can have your daily fun?” you spat. “Answer me, Dean!”

“I don’t know,” his voice was just above a whisper. You took a full look of him. His jaw was clenched and the tiny bit you could see of the mark was glowing a deep red. You felt a shiver run down your spine. “Look, Y/N, I’ve been through a hell of a time, the last thing I need is you and your existential crisis.” he waved you off as he head towards the war room with his beer on his hand.

“Don’t you dare walk out on me,” you followed him. “I know that you’ve been through a hell of a time but guess what? So have I!” you fumed. “I’m just asking for you to respect me. You don’t wanna be with me anymore? Than fucking say for God’s sake.” you clenched your fists, anger taking the best of you. “I shouldn’t be worrying about my boyfriend - the guy who I’ve been dating for the last three years - flirting with the bartender. I shouldn’t walk out of the bathroom to see some chick dancing with you, wiggling her freaking ass on my boyfriend’s dick. I shouldn’t have to see how hard he was because of other woman was doing to him. Or even worse, I shouldn’t have to drag him out of the bar because he couldn’t be a man and respect the woman he has a relationship with.” your voice rose as you stepped closer. Your chest almost colliding with his. His heavy breath against your cheek.

“You wanna know what you mean to me?” he asked, stepping forward. The sight of the throbbing veins in his neck sent a shiver down your spine. “Nothing. You mean nothing to me anymore. You’re just some weak, pathetic, stupid bitch,” he keeps on walking as he talks, causing you to step back until your back collide with the wall. His body was so close to yours, trapping you in place. “Like you said before, you’re just here for my damn pleasure. You used to mean something to me but now you mean nothing. You suck as a hunter and you definitely suck as a girlfriend.” He slammed his hand on the wall beside your head, making you flinch. You fought with everything you had to not let a single tear fall.

Your hand collided with his face. The loud slap of your hand on his skin echoed through the silent bunker. A small cut was made on the corner of his mouth, causing him to bring his hand to his lips.

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that ever again,” you growled. “You can have the bed all to yourself tonight. I’m sleeping in the guest room.” you stated as you walked away from him and headed to the spare bedroom.

____________________________

It had been a couple hours since Dean laid on his bed. He was drunk. Only it wasn’t on all of the drinks he had, but on the silence. The stillness of the room and the tussle of his thoughts were keeping him awake. He was tired. So tired of all of it.

His muscles were tense against the mattress. He felt as if his brain was violently pounding on his head. Stupid, hateful thoughts crossed his mind nonstop.

“She doesn’t deserve you.” it was as low as a whisper.

Dean startled as he heard the voice. His eyes darted around the room, searching for the source of it. Nothing. It was all coming from his head.

“She never really loved you. She’s gonna leave you as soon as she can.”

“Stop.” Dean growled, his hands coming to his head. Fingers pulling at his dark blonde locks.

“Deep down she’s just as bad as you are,” the voice echoed louder. It was always this voice that made him reckless, that increased his desire to kill. “She’s evil.”

“No,” he exclaimed. Even though he was pissed at you, he couldn’t let the mark take the best of him. “She- she isn’t.”

“Yeah, she is. Look at all the innocent blood she has on her hands,” the mark tried to coax him. “She’s no better than any of those monster you hunt. She’s evil, Dean. And all evil must be annihilated.”

Dean’s hands were trembling. The blood was boiling inside his veins. He was feeling the rush he feels when he’s hunting down a monster.

He walked out of his room with the first blade in his hand. Heavy footsteps making their way to the guest room you were. As Dean opened the door his eyes landed on your sleeping form. Soft sobs left your mouth and your body shook every now and then from how much you’d cried before falling asleep.

“She looks like an angel now, Dean, but she truly is an abomination.”

Although his body was hundreds miles per hour, he was frozen at the door. He barely moved a single muscle. You stirred, blinking owlishly.

“Dean?” your voice was a little hoarse. “What are you doing here?”

“There’s this thing that I need to do and I-“ he started to walk towards your bed. Your eyes took notice of the blade held in his hand.

“Dean, whatever you need to do, I’m sure you can do it without the blade.” you sat, not sure whether you should just wait for his next move or run.

He sat in front of you. His green eyes were dark. They roamed over your entire body. He could sure feel how scared you were. You don’t scare easy, but he can terrify you with just a glance. He licked his lips, his eyes finding yours.

“I’m sorry,” your eyes widened at his words. As he raised his hand to stab you, you kicked him in the stomach with all you had, causing the blade to meet the flesh of your waist. “You bitch.” he exclaimed with his hand pressing his stomach.

The cut wasn’t deep, but it hurts anyway. You quickly stood up and ran away from him as he still recovered from your sudden move. You were bleeding. You pressed the wound to contain the blood. It wasn’t enough but it would do. You entered Sam’s bedroom, locking the door. You scanned the room in search for something you could use to prevent him from entering. You tried to push Sam’s dresser towards the door.

“Cas, please, I know you’re really busy, but I need your help,” you prayed as you did your best to move the dresser. “Dean’s trying to kill me and I don’t know if I’ll be able to protect myself for too long.” you managed to get the dresser in front of wooden door.

You need something you can use to protect yourself. There were no guns in sight, not even under the pillow or the mattress or attached to the bed. Damnit Sam! Once you started to search for in his drawers, you found an angel blade. You only wish you had your phone so you could call Sam. Heavy footsteps could be heard from the hallway.

“Y/N, I know you’re in there,” his voice echoed in the room, he was just outside the door. “We can do this the easy way or the hard way, sweetheart,” he said. Silence fell. “Alright, remember it was your choice.”

His foot collided with the door with an animal strength. He didn’t managed to open it, but he made a hole in it. Once Dean made sure it was big enough so he would be able to get through the door, he pushed the dresser away, entering the room.

Your heart was beating so fast you could hear it pounding in your ears. You were ready to use the blade, but you didn’t want to hurt him. He wasn’t himself.

“I have to do this, Y/N, so I can feel good again.” he stepped closer to you, grabbing your arm and bringing you closer to him. You stepped hard on his foot, your elbow colliding with the pit of his stomach, causing him to bend and release you.

You speed to war room. Every step you take causes your injury to hurt and bleed  even more. Like you, Dean was fast. He grabbed your left ankle pulling you closer to him. You struggled to get off of his hold. It was in vain. He pressed the blade up on your calf, twisting it while sinking it deeper in your skin. You screamed. You were more terrified than ever. Blood squirted from the wound once he pulled the knife out. You managed to kick him in the face with your right foot, causing him to stumble. You crawled away from him as fast as you could, trying to make your way to the angel blade a few feet from you.

Dean got a hold of you again, turning you on your back. He pinned you to the floor.

“This could’ve been much easier, Y/N, if only you’d listened to me. Now you wouldn’t be suffering this much.” he praised, tucking a stray of hair behind your ear.

“Why?” you cried.

“Because I have to.”

“Please, Dean, don’t do this,” you sobbed. “I love you and I know how much you love me. You can fight this. You are better than this.”

“No, I’m not,” he grabbed the first blade again. “I need to feel good again. And if I don’t kill I’ll feel bed and I’ll have to take it out on me then.”

“Please, Dean, please,” you begged. His dark eyes were locked in yours. There was no love in them, no mercy.

“Trust me, if there was an option I wouldn’t do anything to you, but see there’s bad in you. And you can’t run away from it because it’s in your blood and bad always win,” he almost whispered. “I’m sorry.” A single tear slipped his eye.

“I love you and I will love you forever, but I’ll never forgive you for what you’ve done to us. Never.” you snarled.

Dean pressed the blade on your chest. Quick and fatal. A tear fell from your eyes. Dean stumbled back, sitting beside your dead body. Reality setting on him. The rage slowly fading away.

“What have I done?” he cried.

“Dean,” Castiel’s rough voice echoed through the room. “I heard Y/N’s prayer. Guess I couldn’t make it in time,” he glanced at your lifeless form. Your eyes were open and he could still see the fear in them. There was blood everywhere. Up the walls, Dean’s face, hands and clothes. “Why you did this, Dean? You’ve always loved her so much.”

“The mark,” a lost look in his green eyes as he started. Sobs escaped his lips. “The mark- uh- it said that I should kill her. That she was evil. And I- I- I needed to get that feeling out of my system,” he ran his hands over his hair. “I don’t know what had got into me, man. It was like I wasn’t seeing her. I was seeing a monster. A prey,” he cried, still refusing to believe in what he had done to the love of his life. How could he do that to such an innocent, pure girl?

“Dean, I-“ Cas started.

“The mark said that I needed to kill her, so I did.”

____________________________

Consider leaving me some feedback!   

[coffee-obsessed-writer]

All In Good Time

Summary: Tired of seeing his best friend wallowing in whiskey after another disappointment, he finally confesses a well-kept secret.

A/N: Written for @spnfluffbingo2019 & @spndeanbingo. Please excuse the poorly written smut, it’s been a while since venturing down that path and I was constantly distracted but things OTHER than the smut at hand. Oh well, hope you enjoy it!

Square filled for SPN Fluff Bingo: Best Friends to Lovers

Squared filled SPN Dean Bingo: FreeSpace

Warnings: Mild angst, Smut (18+ ONLY), Language

WC: 5.3K

Tags at the end of fic. Gifs not mine, credit to owners.

“Drinking that isn’t gonna make it stop, you know,” Dean said as he sat on the stool beside you.

“Stop what?” you asked without looking in his direction.

“Whatever you’re trying to forget.”

“You think you’re so damn smart, Winchester.” You did not need Dean’s brand of pep talk at the moment.

“Because I am,” he smirked. “As my best friend you should know how smart I am, and that I’m right about ninety-five percent of the time.” He finally turned to look at you and raised his brow teasingly. “If I remember correctly, last time you were throwing them back this hard, you’d been dumped by that chucklehead, Rocco. Can’t believe you dated a guy named Rocco…” he shook his head, disappointed in your past choices and drank his beer.

“Bite me,” you growled and threw back the rest of the whiskey in the glass.

You held it up for the bartender to refill and when he came to do so, Dean placed his hand over the top of the glass and slightly shook his head with a frown.  

“Dean, don’t be a dick—”

“She’s good,” he said to the bartender, who took one look at you and agreed that Dean was right.

“What the hell?! I wasn’t done,” you snapped at him, incredulous about his decision that you’d had enough to drink. “I’m not even that drunk!”

“Yeah, you are.” Dean slid the glass out of your reach, keeping his eyes locked with yours only infuriating you more.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? I’m a big girl, Dean. We aren’t fifteen anymore and you don’t need to protect me from myself or anyone else for that matter.”

WHO did he think he was, anyway? This night sucked. You got stood up for the second time by some guy you really thought could be the one. You thought he nearly perfect, and he seemed to accept your job and lifestyle as well as understood that you were a fiercely independent woman. Clearly, you’d been wrong and, so what, if you wanted to drink away the anger and hurt you felt for being duped, again.

“Me?” Dean mused, and sipped at his beer, “Oh, I’m just the guy who has been looking out for you for your whole damn life. The guy who knocked out Trent Moore when he tried to feel you up in the back of Bobby’s car. Also, the same guy who made sure that your shit-for-brains mother didn’t get you killed when she was drunk and went after a poltergeist.”

“Great, thanks for those reminders,” you moaned and turned on your stool to face the room and lean both elbows back on the bar. “Look, if you’re not gonna let me drink, lay off the trip down memory lane, okay? Not in the mood.”

“Deal.” Dean swallowed the rest of his beer and stood from the stool. “Come on then. W can shoot pool, or go watch a movie… whatever you want,” he reached out a hand to help you up, but you swatted him away.

“No! Just go, man. Let me wallow.”

“You know what… you’re a stubborn ass bitch. Fine, wallow! I’m so fucking tired of watching you do this. Oh, and next time you need a savior, sweetheart, call Sam, cause I’m done playing your white knight!”

Dean’s face was twisted in frustration, anger, and hurt, which left you confused. In all the years you had known him, he never got this mad at you before and you didn’t understand what made this time any different.

He reached into his pocket and slapped down cash on the bar, then turned and headed straight for the exit. You felt shocked and frozen in place, watching him storm through the bar and out the front door. Dean had been your best friend for most of your life, and sure there had been arguments; many, many arguments. But never had he straight up yelled at you before and it wasn’t sitting right to leave things with him like this.

You brushed your feelings of wallowing aside and found a purpose to move off the stool. The alcohol you’d already consumed made you feel lightheaded at the sudden movement, but your concern over Dean’s departure took precedence. No matter how you felt, you could not let him leave like that.

 You found him in the parking lot. He was pacing back and forth in front of the Impala; his fists clenching and unclenching in sync with his jaw. You watched for a moment, hesitant to approach him in his current state. That’s when he looked up and saw you standing there. Unsure of what to say, you just shrugged. Your mouth fell open to speak but no words would come out.

Dean’s brow was still buried in frustration that was directed straight at you. It wasn’t like him to be this angry, not over you wanting to drink away the thoughts of another disappointment. Normally he joined in, helped you to bounce back by cracking jokes and getting drunk alongside you.

“I can’t with you right now, okay?” he grunted from under his breath. “Just go back inside.”

“Dean… I’m sorry. Whatever I said…”

He snorted a laugh and bite his lip. “You’re sorry. For what? You don’t even realize what you’re sorry for, do you?”

“No, I don’t. But clearly, I did something to piss you off. I never want to fight with you, Dean. Not really fight, anyway. So, whatever it was—”

“Fine, you wanna know? Really?” his voice rose with each word, his anger come through with each decibel.

Seeing him this way, and having it directed at you was not something you’d experienced before. Afraid that the wrong thing would make him angrier, all you could do was nod. Dean drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. He was centering himself; he’d never admit that’s what he was doing, but it was. There was nothing you didn’t know about him. At least, you thought you knew everything about it.

“Since we were sixteen years old, any job we worked together, I watched you meet someone, hook up, and then get dumped. Each time, you ended up hurt, scared, or in a predicament that me or Sam had to rescue you from.”

His words stung and you wanted to be annoyed with him; but the truth was, Dean was right. There was nothing you could say that would help, so you remained silent and let him finish.

“For years, Y/N, years… We’ve worked together, killed some evil sons-of-bitches together… we’ve celebrated and mourned. We’ve drunk ourselves silly, and bandaged each other up, countless times...”

Dean paused, his entire body sighing as it released the built-up fury he had been holding onto. He unclenched his fists and took a few steps closer to where you stood.

“In all that time, I made some of the best memories of my life. Between you and Sam, you guys were my home. Everything good I can think of is wrapped up in you and my brother. So, you’ll have to excuse me if I am tired of seeing you get like that over yet another piece of shit asshole who can’t see how damn lucky he was that you even looked his way.”

You felt your stomach drop out, not because of what he said, but because of how he looked at you when he said it. Your mind flashed through a dozen scenarios where he had come to your rescue; with guys, monsters, your own mother and had even saved you from yourself a time or two. If it hadn’t been for Dean, you would have been dead years ago.

“I—I don’t know what to say other than, you’re right,” you said softly, the whiskey and culpability was still stinging in your throat. “I shouldn’t have depended on you for so long. I put you in these terrible situations, and—”

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered and brought his hand to his face, running it over his worn features. “You’re fucking clueless…”

“What now? I’m trying to apologize and tell you that you were right! What more do you want from me, Dean? What?!” You could feel your hands starting to shake, and a bubble of your rage starting to rise and your throat now on fire from the volume of your voice. “What the FUCK do you want from me, huh?!”

People passing by were starting to stare, so you closed the small bit of distance between you, ready to unload a little more without attracting a crowd. But when you got closer, Dean started to laugh.

“What the fuck is so funny?” you asked, breathing hard through your nose trying to simmer the boil of frustration.

“You. You look ridiculous when you get angry.” He was smiling now, not quite laughing, but the grin he wore was genuine and reserved for moments with people he trusted.

“You’re bipolar, Winchester,” you huffed, trying to contain your temperament.

Dean shrugged. “Maybe. But I think its more that you just drive me insane sometimes.”

“Oh sure, blame ME for your particular brand of crazy! I don’t know what to do any more here, man. I can’t do anything right with you, lately.”

“What the Hell does that mean?” Dean asked with a flare of insolence.

“The last three jobs we’ve worked? You barked at me for no reason. You’re short with me when I ask you to stop while on the road, you constantly ride me for shit that I have zero control over!”

“Then why do you stay, hm? Why not go off on your own? Hunt alone?”

“I’ve tried! You just keep finding me and taking me along to the next job! Friends don’t let friends hunt alone, remember?!”

Dean squeezed his eyes shut and drew in a deep breath. “I need a drink,” he said and pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Shouldn't have closed out the bar tab,” you muttered.

“You know what—” he lifted his head, the look of aggravation back on his face. “I’m—this is—fuck it! God, you frustrate the shit out of me!”

In a moment’s time, Dean had your face in his hands and his mouth on yours. Your first instinct was to retreat, then slap him across the face. Quickly following that, was the sudden desire to kiss him back. There had plenty of times you discreetly watched your best friend from the corner of your eye when he didn’t realize you were looking. How could you not? Dean was a gorgeous man, but more than that, he was sexy and funny. He was basically every girl’s fantasy. From his green eyes and freckles, right down to his bowlegs and boots. He was cocky and arrogant, smart as hell, and had a smile that could only be described as the devil’s handiwork. But never, in a million years, did you imagine he would have any interest in kissing you. In more than twenty years together, he never once tried nor looked at you like he wanted too; at least from what you could remember.

Dean’s lips were soft, yet he used them roughly against you. Every time you felt yourself pull back in the slightest, he continued to draw you in. You were fully immersed now, and when his mouth parted, you found yourself kissing him back just as greedily. His hand circled around to your neck and tangled up in your hair, entwining his fingers in the wispy strands and gripping them tightly. It caused a rush throughout your body; partially because of the whiskey still flowing through your veins, and partially because it just fucking felt so good.

You moaned softly into his mouth involuntarily and you felt his lips unfurl into a slight smirk. He slowly pulled away from your lips but left his hand concealed in your hair.

“Get in the car,” he growled. “Please.” It was only to try and sound like he was being polite, but there was nothing well-mannered about the way he was holding you in his gaze. That’s when he released you completely, and there was no hesitation in your decision to get into the front seat of the Impala and leave with him.

Dean followed suit and got behind the wheel. He fired up the engine and before he put his most prized possession in gear, he reached out with his right hand and gripped your thigh. Sliding you closer to him, he kissed you again, gentle and wanting, leaving his hand to rest on your leg and kneading his fingers into your flesh as if he were a cat.

Without a word, he pulled back, put the car in gear, and speed off down the road to the motel you all had been staying at.

 The motel door flew open with a bang. Dean pulled you into the room and slammed it shut so hard that it rebounded off the frame and opened again. You took a few more steps into the room he shared with Sam, though Sam was nowhere to be seen, and watched as Dean made sure the door was not only locked, but the chain was up.

You were almost afraid to speak. Dean had this look in his eyes that challenged you to say something, anything he could use to prove whatever point it was he was trying to make. But you didn’t give in. You were too nervous and excited about what was going to happen; realizing for the first time how much you had wanted it to.

He stalked you; his green eyes, now full of lust and want, were affixed to his prey. Dean moved slowly from the door to where you stood. As he crossed the room, he removed his jacket and threw it in the corner by the window. Next, his flannel came off and was tossed in the same direction. His eyes never wavering from you.

The ripple of his muscles on his arms was prominent now that his body was tense and anxious. The closer he got, the more your heart began to pound. How could you not have seen this in him before; all these years attached at the hip never once did you realize he would be looking at you the way he was then.

“I wasn’t gonna have this conversation with you in the parking lot of some dive bar,” he said, and despite the edge to his demeanor, his voice was gentle and calm. “I wasn’t gonna tell you, how many times I wanted to kill some guy who had his hands on you in some bar. Or a random joker on a case we were working, trying to get you meet them for drinks--”

“Dean…”

He ignored you. “I wasn’t going to tell you how many times I came so close to telling you that I wanted to be that guy and…” he trailed off, now directly in front of you, the arms you had just been admiring reaching out for you.

“And, what?” you managed to ask despite the lump in your throat.

Dean leaned in and kissed you again, slipping his arms around the lower part of your waist. When you felt him lift your feet off the ground, you let him and locked your arms around his neck. He took a few steps towards the bed and put you back on your feet at the foot of it.

“All those nights I watched you eyeing up any other guy but me… I was starting to resent you for it. Tonight, I finally realized that it’s my own damn fault.”

Your arms were still up around his neck, your lips a breath apart. “What do you mean?”

Dean didn’t answer at first, instead, he took your arms off his neck, and slipped your jacket off, letting it fall to the floor and kicking it out of the way.

“I got scared to tell you, that you were the one I wanted to take home every night. I should have told you. Instead, I kept quiet, would watch you go off with someone else and then I end up going home with some mediocre stand-in that never seemed to measure up to you.”

You didn’t know what to say. He hadn’t ever given you an indication he thought of you like that. Not that you had looked at the Winchesters as brothers, but there was a closeness that you felt to them; Dean especially. Anything physical felt like it would be crossing a line you couldn’t come back from. It was scary to think of life without Dean and Sam, and if you DID cross that line, it could go wrong and eventually cost you their place in your life? That couldn’t happen.

“Now you know why I wasn’t gonna let you wallow over some guy, not again. You can go if that’s what you want. Certainly not going to make you stay here, but I really want you too, Y/N. Stay tonight. Give this a chance.”

He was pleading with you now, nearly begging with the crease of his brow and the hope in his eyes. You couldn’t leave, you didn’t want too. He had been in front of you this entire time, and the only thing you wanted to forget was how many nights had been lost that you and he could have been together.

There weren’t any words that would convey what you wanted, so you took action instead. You locked in with his gaze and began to shed your layers of clothes until you stood before him in only your bra and underwear. His tongue ran nervously over his bottom lip at the sight of you while his eyes drank you in. Dean reached out and ran his fingers from your shoulder and down across your collarbone, then let them drift down your cleavage.

You took the bottom of his shirt, and pulled it up over his head, throwing it off to the side. From there, everything happened in what felt like seconds. Dean was kicking off his boots and pulling off his jeans. He had you down on the bed, laying his weight on top of you, running his hands across your flesh, and letting his mouth explore your neck. He pulled down your bra, exposing your breast to the warm air of the motel room. Dean brought his mouth to your nipple, running his tongue over it, making your entire body shiver.

His other hand ran down the length of your body, and pawed at the hem of your panties, yanking them down and finding the hood of your sex. Just the promise of his touch, caused his name to moan from your lips.

“Say it again,” he growled lowly, moving his mouth back up to your neck.

“Dean, please…”

His fingers slipped down and moved against your clit, the sensation of which was overwhelming. He moved slowly, toying with it, and with each pass against your most sensitive place, caused your back to arch up into him, and him to smile with satisfaction.

Dean moved further down, and let his fingers easily slid up into you, and the more you reacted to his touch, the more his erection grew against your leg. You dug your nails into his back, then ran them down to the boxers he still wore. Yanking them down, he looked down at you and smiled.

“Look who’s all impatient now,” he teased.

“Fuck you, Winchester,” you moaned as he thrust his fingers up into you with a bit more force making you gasp with both surprise and pleasure.

“In a minute, honey, in a minute… waited a long time for this…”

Before you could respond, Dean kissed you, hard. His tongue taking control and swirling with yours greedily. It was all too much for your overstimulated body, and you felt yourself ready to cum. Dean knew it too, he could feel the fluttering warmth of you around his hand, and it only made him insistent to continue.

You forced your head back, arching your chest up to him and cursed as he suddenly pulled his hand from you, before your release could come to fruition. He stood from the bed and let his boxers fall to the floor, before going into his jeans pocket, retrieving his wallet and pulling out the condom he kept there.

You sat up on your elbows and watched him curiously. “Look who’s mister responsibility,” you teased.

Dean shrugged but flashed that damn smirk. “Told you, been waiting for this for a long time. No way I was going to come unprepared.”

While he was taking care of the necessities, you moved further back on the bed after slipping off your bra and underwear. Dean finally climbed on the bed next to you; your heart pounding and your sex throbbing for more of him. You moved him so he was sitting against the headboard, and you straddled his lap, positioning yourself over him.

Dean’s gaze was greedy, but the animalistic lust he had earlier was gone; now he just watched you close, as if burning the memory of this night into his memory forever. As you sank down, letting his cock slide up into you, Dean’s eyes fluttered closed as his head rolled back against the headboard and his fingertips dug into your hips. It took only a second for you to start rocking against him; moving your hips in slow, methodical circles. With each pass, his mouth fell open, and his breathing intensified.

“Jesus… Fuuuuck…” he growled when you ran your nail up his chest and clasped your fingers behind his neck.

You guided his head to your chest, where he took your breast in his mouth, licking and sucking at your nipple. The faster you moved, the hungrier he became. Your head rolled back, and your overstimulated clit was pulsating with each pass you made against him. Your mind was completely lost in the moment with him; nothing before him had ever felt this good, this right… this euphoric.

His hands were beginning to grip you harder, moving you faster while his eyes opened and locked with yours. You wanted to speak, encourage him to fuck you as hard and fast as he wanted, but you didn’t have to because he saw it on your face. Your climax was rising again, and when you finally came, he did too, moaning your name and burying his head between your breasts. You could feel him throbbing inside you, matching his release with yours. Then, sighing as both of your muscles relaxed and you melted into each other.

A thin sheen of sweat coated both your bodies, as you cradled him against you. No rush to move off him, nor did he want that either. Dean lifted his head and reached his lips up to yours, as his hands slid around your waist and down over your ass.

“Worth the wait?” you asked, nearly breathless but smiling down at him.

Dean chuckled and moved his one hand up to brush a patch of sweaty hair from your brow. “And then some.”

You kissed him gently, then moved off his lap, falling to the bed beside him with a sigh of satisfaction. Dean reluctantly got up from the bed and excused himself to the bathroom. He was only gone a minute and leaped back into the bed next to you, attacking your neck with his mouth. Though you were exhausted, your body was still reeling from being with him. Forget the physical sensation, but the emotional one was all your mind could focus on now.

Dean Winchester, he had been your best friend for more than twenty years. He was the one you sought out for advice, he was your hunting partner, your drinking buddy, your partner in crime and in shenanigans. Now, was he really going to be your lover, too? Could you see yourself being with him like that? Risking a lifetime of friendship for the possibility of falling in love?

You wanted to say something, but not ruin the moment either. Instead, you just let yourself go, and tried not to think about it. Dean had the covers pulled up over you now, and rolled you onto your back while trailing light kisses along your shoulder.

“You okay with all this?” he asked, his expression turning serious.

“If you’re asking if I regret it, no, I don’t. But what is all this, exactly?”

“Whatever we want it to be. There’s no rules here, Y/N. You know, besides my brother, you’re the most important person in the world to me. And, yeah… I’ve wanted you for a long ass time. But I don’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Pressured into what?”

Dean considered for a moment and tried to choose his words carefully. “Being with me. Just me. If that’s not something you want—”

“Shut up,” you interrupted and sat up on one elbow. “I’m good right here with you, Dean. Doesn’t need to be defined. I realize now all those others were just a placeholder for you, too.”

“You really mean that?”

You nodded and kissed him. “Really.”

Dean settled back into the bed and drew you into the crook of his shoulder. You laid there wrapped in his arms, just breathing him in and relishing in this sudden turn life had taken when you heard the door start to open. The chain caught it and you pulled the covers up to your neck just as Sam’s face stuck through the crack in the door.

“Dean! Come on man, let me in,” he whined.

Dean looked to you and chuckled when he saw your expression. “You good?”

You nodded slightly and sunk down into the bed, pulling the covers over your head. You barely had time to register that you and Dean just had mind-blowing sex and were now discussing being a thing, but you had to contend with Sam, too?

“One minute,” he called out, and Sam shut the door.

Dean grabbed his boxers and jeans, slipped them back on and went to let his little brother in.

“Sorry, I was uh… entertaining,” Dean smirked and raised his eyes brows in triumph as Sam walked into the room.

“Man, seriously? Can’t you get your own room for that?”

“Sorry little brother, these things can’t be helped.”

Sam looked around and saw the mess of clothes all over the floor, then noticed your breathing lump beneath the covers.

“Dean,” he said through gritted teeth. “Your company is still here.”

“She sure is.”

“Hi Sam,” you spoke up sheepishly through the blanket over your face. “How’s it going?”

“Y/N?!” he gasped, his eyes wide with shock as he whipped his head around to look at his brother, who nodded still wearing his victorious smile. “Jesus…” Sam sighed and shook his head. “Well, damn, its about damn time. Geez. I just don’t get why you guys couldn’t have went to her room?”

“What?” you asked, sitting up and uncovering your face. “What does that mean… about time?”

Sam’s face immediately blushed when he realized you were completely naked under the sheets. He turned his head and stuttered his response. “It’s—it—it’s just that… you and Dean, this has been coming for a while and—” he smacked himself in the head for his choice of words. “Dammit. You know what I mean. You know what, I’m gonna go… I can’t be here right now.”

“Take my room, Sam. Key is in my jacket pocket. And don’t worry, this doesn’t change anything. I promise I’ll still let you ride shotgun.”

Sam rolled his eyes, then quickly turned to grab your coat from the floor and retrieved the key before he made a quick exit from the room. Dean was snickering at his brother as he slammed the door behind him and could be seen nearly sprinting away down the walkway towards your room.

“So, that just happened,” you groaned and fell back to the bed.

“I wouldn’t worry about Sammy, he’ll take it all in stride.” Dean came back and laid down on top of the covers next to you. “Like he said, it’s been coming for a while.”

“In your mind, maybe,” you said quietly and cast your eyes away from his scrutiny. “I never thought you even considered me like this. You were always eyeing up some other girls, talking about this one or that one…” you shrugged, and sat up straight against the headboard.

“I was trying to make you jealous. Guess I was too much of a coward to just be upfront about it,” he paused and swallowed hard. “You were it, though. The one I always thought that would be there in the end.”

“Is that what this is? The end?”

“End of one thing, beginning of another,” he smiled and leaned over to leave a kiss on your shoulder. “Still friends though. That’s always gotta come first because no matter what, you’re stuck with me.”

You felt an odd sense of relief in knowing that this friendship cultivated over two decades would remain and come first. “I can handle that.”

“Good. Now. Can you handle getting your clothes back on? You see, this chick I’m sleeping with distracted me from the burgers on the menu at the bar and I’m starving. She was being a sloppy drunk, I had to get her home--”

You raised your fist like you were going to punch him and he rolled away from you. But your arm hooked around his waist in time to prevent him from getting off the bed. You forced him back to where he was and quickly straddled him again. That look of lust was already back in his eyes as you grabbed his wrists and pinned them back up against the headboard.

“I may have been drunk, but I can still pin your ass down.”

“Unfair advantage when you’re naked and I’m weak-willed.”

You dove down to his neck and left a rough, biting kiss there. “Still want that burger?”

He shook his head and a mischievous gleam glistened in Dean’s eyes. In one swift motion, he had you flipped on your back while he hovered over you and used part of his weight to hold you down. He trailed his mouth down your chest and across your abdomen and positioned himself between your legs. Still sensitive from your first encounter with him, the touch of his tongue against your clit caused a whole body shiver to course through you.

“Fuuck, warn a girl, would ya?” you mewed as your hands gripped each side of his head to try and control him as he lavished your sex with his tongue.

Dean wrapped his arms under your thighs and then pinned them open further, giving him as much access to you as he could get. Your hips moved with him, your moans louder and louder with each pass of his teeth and tongue. This time when you finally came, he refused to let go, drinking you in until your body went limp with exhaustion.

You watched him through the hazy afterglow, sit up and wipe his face clean with the sheet, leaving behind only that triumphant grin.

“Now, I’m ready for that burger,” he winked. “Wanna grab a shower with me real quick? Go find some grub?”

Still, in a daze from everything, you were able to give him a smile and nod, because words just wouldn’t come. Dean helped you up off the bed but held into your hand for a moment.

“Still feel good with all this?” he asked, his features softer than normal.

“Yeah, Dean. More than good. Best I’ve felt in forever, actually.”

“Alright then. Shower, burgers, bed,” he said, picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder as he walked towards the bathroom. Though you playfully smacked at his back to put you down, you never wanted him to let you go. You never wanted to spend another night without him.

Everything tags: @kazosa // @sorenmarie87 // @lefthologramdeer // @his-paradox // @letsby // @thefaithfulwriter // @sister-winchesters99

Supernatural tags: @wings-of-a-raven // @negans-wife // @mrsbarnes-rogers // @teller258316 // @spnhollis // @sweet-things-4-life // @hobby27 // @sweetlythoughtfulbird // @theoriginalvicki // @dreamchester67 // @xxwarhawk // @babykalika2001 // @superwhovainfangirl // @toobusynerdfighting // @missihart23 // @idreamofplaid // @thewinchesterchronicles // @waywardgypsy // @closetspngirl // @fatestemptress // @rebelminxy // @22sarah08 // @witch-of-letters // @cole-winchester // @rainflowermoon // @adoptdontshoppets // @waywardvalkyrie // @fandomoniumflurry // @blackcherrywhiskey // @jessieray98 // @lyoly // @a--1--1--3 // @31shadesofbrown // @whereismyangel-damnitdeanshare // @pilaxia // @screechingartisancashbailiff // @kgbrenner // @holylulusworld // @deansenwackles // @jamielea81 // @coffeebooksandfandom // @logical-princey // @gemini0410 // @salt-n-burn-em-all // @collette04 // @mrswhozeewhatsis // @deathofmissjackson // @lauravic // @akshi8278 // @katehuntington // @81mysteriouslyme 

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 79

If yesterday was Noodle Day, then today was S'mores and Failing at Wilderness Survival Day. MIL did not get the brace off her leg, which is a bummer, but the doctor did put it a more comfortable way and say that she could start some physical therapy, which is better than nothing. Apparently we have been putting it on correctly and it is not our fault that the thing constantly falls down, that is just how knee braces do. They probably do not do it quite so much if the person with the fractured kneecap does not walk around quite so often, but it is what it is. Her kneecap is apparently healing pretty well anyway, so that's still good. 

No visit to FIL today, though two attempts were made. He was sleeping the first time they went over, and the second time, late in the afternoon, they'd given him something to calm him down and let him sleep because he'd been having a very bad day. This of course was very upsetting to MIL, since there's really nothing at all we can do, so I'm hoping tomorrow will be better. His new room doesn't have a bird feeder in front of it but it does have a suet cake holder. The weather is completely inappropriate for suet cake, so I ordered a seed and mealworm cake off Amazon, only to find it is WAY too big. I'll have to try again, and in the meantime we will put the cake out for the birds and squirrels here, who will be thrilled. 

Going through our supplies today, I realized we have way more eggs than I'd previously realized. This house has a downstairs refrigerator, which was very handy when we had to bring the perishable contents of our fridge down from Virginia, but makes it easy to lose track of inventory. Somehow we ended up with five dozen eggs in the downstairs fridge and two dozen additional upstairs eggs. Lacking a handy Gaston in the family, we need to do something with these eggs! We boiled a dozen of them for breakfasts, and then I took eight more of them and made eggs on clouds for dinner. Eggs on clouds are fun, you separate eggs, then whip the egg whites to stiff peaks and plop them in piles with little divots on top on a greased cookie sheet. Sprinkle them with parmesan cheese and garlic salt, then cook them in a 425 degree oven for four minutes. Pull them out, carefully spoon an intact egg yolk into each divot, and cook for 3-4 more minutes, then serve. They are puffy and light, and really disguise the fact that you are basically serving Just Eggs as your dinner entree. We ate them with salad and they were popular. 

Kiddo spent much of the day playing Prodigy, a computer game that combines Pokemon and math problems into an activity that he enjoys and I can feel like has some redeeming educational value. He tried to suggest that it was so educationally redeeming that he should be allowed unlimited time to play, but I reminded him that even if the game was teaching him, too much screen time was still not great for his developing  brain. I did consent to buying the paid version of the game so he could evolve his monsters, so he was happy. I got a brief refresher on mean, median and mode that will no doubt be useful to me somehow. He has promised that he will use the game regularly for at least six months, a promise I am writing down here so I can remember and remind him of this summer when he does not wish to do any math! 

After supper we did our big anticipated activity of the day and made s'mores in the fire pit. The fire pit does not get used very often at all and is in kind of rough shape but usable, which is more than I can say for one of the two benches around it. I came very close to falling through the damn thing, rotten as it is. We used that as the supplies bench. Because my in-laws no longer take a newspaper (and if they don't, you know for sure that print journalism is in trouble!) we had no ready source of paper kindling and had to resort to several failed paper airplanes and some torn up cardboard boxes, as well as sticks from the yard and a few pieces of wood from the woodpile. Turns out that newspaper is apparently a vital component of my ability to light a fire, and the sticks being kind of damp did not help. It took us about six tries with kindling and matches to light a fire that did not poop out after a minute or two. I am definitely not prepared to survive the Hunger Games. 

Eventually we did get the fire lit though, and went in to get all our supplies. @beturass gave me a good suggestion about using parchment paper to make chocolate bars from chocolate chips, but in the end laziness won out and we went to war with the chips we had. It didn't matter too much because kiddo was much more interested in eating burnt marshmallows straight off the stick than in going through the whole s'mores preparation routine. He ate at least six big marshmallows before I realized what was happening, which probably explains why he can't sleep tonight. Oh well, I'll take sugar over stress as a cause of insomnia any night! Our timing was very lucky, since about ten minutes after we wrapped things up, it began pouring rain outside. This conveniently doused the last of the embers and allowed us to prevent forest fires. 

It is weird that it is now the weekend already because it feels like yesterday was Monday. It is weird that it is the end of the month because arriving here feels like forever ago and also very recent. Normally a late spring weekend here would be full of festivals and tailgate markets, live music and cultural events. I think we'll probably have a couple more watergun fights, those are fun! Terrible things are happening in the world right now and the feelings of helpless anger are often consuming. To save your sanity, you sometimes have to draw back and have your positive impact where you can, even if it's just in your own family. 

[jumoonjae]

SAVE ME pt 1

Pairings: Reader X Seungyoun X Wooseok Ft YooA Genre: Action/ Angst/ Fluff

Summary: After someone save you, you had no choice but to join his adventures that unintentionally unveil fragments of memories that you never knew ever existed before, revealing who you really are and what are your connection with the stranger. Will it be a good idea to find the missing puzzle?

Forensic was your passion. Some would call it odd while some would call it unique. Sometimes things would get eerie when the cadaver’s condition was far beyond your brain could have ever imagine and sometimes you spent many sleepless night just because you couldn’t push away the gore image that would stuck in you head for days. When it comes to food, you had stop eating intestine since you started your carrier, You even thought about being a vegan at some point.But you glad you didn’t. That’s the thrill you always love about your job. It wasn’t boring, not so adventurous for an average woman like you.It was just fine. Until one day.

You received a new cadaver that morning, it was named ‘John Doe’ because they couldn’t identify his features and there was no some sort of id found when they found his body. His face was burnt to extent that only his bone was left. It was a murder the police said, so every report should be given straight to them which mean you need to carry out detailedautopsyand submit the report within 24hours from the recorded time you had received the cadaver.

“New case?” Wooseok stop by while you were preparing yourself for the autopsy. He always the first to know when there’s a murder case and you never know how. He loves to tease you when you use full personal protective equipmentsaying that you looked like a astronaut.

“Yeah. They want the full report in 24hour. Like usual.” You sighed while putting in your gown and he help you tie it up securely from the back.

“Are you alone? Where’s your intern?” He looked around for another person outside the procedure room for your intern but only greeted by the cold eerie corridor which made the hair on hi nape to stand every time.

“I don’t know. He didn’t showed up this morning, didn’t call or text me at all. I already informed my head so she’ll find someone else to replace him for today.” You put on your second gloves then your eye shield. Turning to face him to see his grinning face.

“My little astronaut.” He tapped your head with a playful grin then sent you off with a kiss on your forehead into the cold room leaving only you with the cadaver.

You first checked every detail on the outer skin for evident before cut open the chest using the equipment carefully. You heard the door open and you stop to turn back looking at the person who you assume will assist you throughout the autopsy.

“I supposed you are here to replace my intern?” You asked and he only nod. He was tall. Taller than your intern, but you never saw him anywhere before.

“Are you new?” You asked again, but the stoic looking guy only give you another nod. So you assumed that he must be nervous and might not really know well the procedure.

“I’m Y/N by the way. Weird, they never mentioned they’re taking new intern this month. Come, you just need to hand me any equipment when I ask you to. Its your first day, so I wont give you hard time.” You gestured him with aa assuring smile to the other side of the metal bed and he obeyed. He does look nervous.

The autopsy went quite stressing you would say. Because the guy was constantly vomiting and it slows you down. But you couldn’t blame him at all. You fainted the first time you saw an open clean cadaver during your second year of university all you could do was give him encouraging smile and told him that it was okay if he wanted to rest. But he didn’t leave he stood there for hours with you obeying your orders until you were done. But never once he open his mouth to speak. Only to vomit.

“You’re done here, I just need to check the organs for a bit and I’m done too. I’ll do the rest of the report, you can go back to your station. Thank you for the good work.” You smiled but he didn’t he just nodded and ready to take his leave when he heard you whispered.

“Inflammation on the intestine. Interesting.” You mumbled then took the blade to slice open the inflamed part and found a microchip. You took the chip using a forceps and didn’t realize how the man that assisted you stops in his track and eye grew wider at the chip that you were holding. You flinch hard when you heard someone knock on the glass from the outside of the room.

“God damnit.” You cursed. You saw a stranger standing outside looking at you with a surprised look, he was in shock but then you saw urgency in his face pointing to your intern and gesturing you to move away from him before he rushed to the entrance door which is the opposite side of it and you were dumbfounded.

But before you could ask the intern about the commotion, you saw him took something from his back and the next thing you know, he pointed a gun right at your face making you freeze and you swear your blood was dried out because you were shocked and terrified. Your whole life flashed on the tip of the gun and you don’t even dare to look away from the gun.

“Now, place that chip inside that evident bag and give it to me.” He pointed the gun to the bag then back to you and you do as he said. You heard the door slams open and a shot fired making you duck down and scrambled to the trolley where you placed your equipment to take cover hand still holding on the bag clutched to your chest. You were shaking profusely and you waited for another shot. But instead you saw the stranger run to your side and took the chip from your hand putting it inside a case. He was crouching next to you and you stare at him waiting for explanation. But it never came.

“You need to come with me. He had seen your face, you need to hide for the time being.” He didn’t look at you but looking for the intern. Another shot was fired by the intern and he fired back you assume hit his target, because you could a loud thud and a grunt. You hurriedly took off your gloves and all of the equipment from your body before taking his hand. Next thing you know, you were already at the hospital lobby hand in hand rushing to the entrance. That’s when you saw your boyfriend who was leaning on the counter checking some paper. Almost like he could sense someone was looking at him, he raised his head and found your eyes immediately. He’s looking at you then at your close proximate between you and the stranger then looking down to your hand that was holding the stranger’s hand. He looked confused. He then put the paper down at the counter and try to run to you but it was difficult because the lobby was crowded that he keep bumping into people, he was calling your name few times with a pained expression. He looked hurt and it hurts you. You try to pull your hand from the stranger and run to Wooseok but his grip was getting tighter.

“My boyfriend. Please let me just explain to him.” You tugged his hand and you both stop. He was hesitating but let you go eventually. But the minute you took a step toward Wooseok, you heard a gunshot and everyone starting to run from every direction making you lose Wooseok from your sight. Everything was chaotic, you heard kids were crying and their parents were comforting them on the floor and they were bumped by the crown almost stepped over. You feel like crying seeing how scared the crowd was, there’s a old people who was covering their ear in fear and it broke you heart. You couldn’t stop blaming yourself. If you just hand the chip to the shooter earlier, this wont be happening.

You saw the shooter who just exited the lift still holding his gun upward with a bloody shirt on his shoulder. You recognize him, he was the one who disguised as your intern earlier. You wanted to run to him and stop him, you were in rage, you want to fight him but you don’t know how. He was kicking someone who was on his way and you feel your blood boiling inside you. You were about to scream at him when feel a tug on your bag and you saw the stranger cocked his head to the entrance, you look back again to the crowd to look for your boyfriend. When you couldn’t find him you turn back to the stranger and saw his apologetic eyes.

“Run to the black Audi outside. I’ll cover for you.”

“We need to help them. There’s children in here. We can’t just leave.” You were crying but you don’t know since when. It was anger, not fear. It was rage, frustration.

“The police will come. We need to take the microchip to the police immediately. Please. Save yourself first.” There was urgency in his voice, he was pleading, almost like saving you was his main reason why he showed up. He grabs your hand and persuaded you until you obeyed.

***

You were at the police headquarters but you were locked inside a cold room and were interrogated by the police and the stranger was nowhere to be seen.

“Where did you found the chip? This contains the government’s confidential files and it should be in the Blue House. Why is it in your possession?” He asked for the hundredth time.

“I told you already. I was the one who did the autopsy for the dead body I just received this morning and I found this inside his gut. I work for the government I would have finished the autopsy report if it wasn’t someone try to take it away from me and your guy had to bring me here.” You’re on the verge to snap at the officer, but you didn’t because you want the interrogation to end a soon as possible and call Wooseok. He must be dead worried.

But they didn’t let you go and it was already midnight. You saw one of the officer’s wristwatch when the send you some food that you didn’t touch.You back hurts because you had been sitting down since the moment you’re arrived, your hair was a mess by the constant tugging and scratching because you couldn’t stand sitting doing nothing. Your face flinches to the cold when you rest your face at the table and let out a long sigh. But before you could close your eyes, you heard someone was opening the door sneakily. You turn to look at the person.

“Hey come on. We need to run.” The stranger took your hand and you let him dragged you out from that place. You don’t really know why you obeyed. Maybe you loved the thrill, the adrenaline that surged every time you’re running away.

“They must’ve out of their mind locking an agent inside a police headquarter.” He just mumbled the word, but you heard. He sounds frustrated, maybe something went wrong. You wanted to ask why but you saved it for later. You just need to focus on getting out from that place that instant.

***

“Sorry about your boyfriend. I wish I could give you more time.” He breaks the silence in the car that he stole.

“I cannot say its fine. But what choices do we have. Thank you though, for saving me.” You said without looking at him. You stare at the light thinking about Wooseok. His pained expression when he couldn’t reach you. But your mind couldn’t fight the curiosity to know what was the chaos all about. What so special about the chip and why you found it inside a dead body intestine.

“What’s with the microchip? Why the made such a fuss for that thing?”

“It’s the evident of corruption that was happening inside the blue house, treason, murder, bribery. Everything that can be use to take down everyone that involved.”You nodded still looking at him waiting for more information. But he didn’t seem to have a plan to give you more.

“But you don’t have it now.”

“Says who?” He smirked taking it out from his back pocket showing it to you. Your eyes widen in shock and asked how he got it back.

“It was a bad idea to lock me in there. The whole department had been compromised. The police will come for us.”

“What? So they’re going to hunt us now? Who are you people? How did I get involved into all this?” You grunt to your last word and let out a long sigh tugging your hair again.

“You can put it that way. I work for the government too. But I’m from a team that was established by the president himself for special mission like this, only few people in the Blue House is aware about our existence. Yesterday I got this mission to retreat the microchip and they asked me to investigate more about it. The one at the hospital earlier was the people who try to get the chip to blackmail any powerful person on that list for money and power. The police, some are already know about that shit and they try to destroy the microchip to save their bosses ass.” He explained without once taking his eyes off the road. He didn’t pause or stuttered. He’s telling the truth right? But you need to help him solve this so you can live a normal life again right?

“How are you going solve this?”

“I don’t know yet. I couldn’t call my boss to inform him that I have this. If I use cellphone, they can track us anywhere. So we’re basically on our own.” You had goosebumps when he said you both need to solve it without any help. You gulped hard. He clearly saw how nervous you are and chuckled.

“It’s okay. You can trust me. I won’t harm you.”

***

He drove for another few hour until you reached Seoul which you never step foot on before. You rejected a few offer to work and move to Seoul, because you heard work is more hectic in the big city. Your current work already taking most of your time and you couldn’t think of any place that were busier than your place.You love Busan even you didn’t grew up there, because you love the smell of the sea every time you drove by after busy day at the morgue.

You both checked in a suite and he left you to buy something to eat and you decided to take a shower while he’s gone. You stayed a little longer letting the water wash down all the tense in tour muscle. You thought about how it all started, you remember how scare you are when the gun was pointed to you. You remember how confused Wooseok face looked and it kills you. You couldn’t call him. You’re too scare to take the risk, even the tiniest one. But there’s nothing you could do about it, you just going to follow Seungyoun and trust him so you can go home. You hope. You thought you took longer because when you’re out, you saw a new set of clothes laid on your bed. Black leather jacket, white tee, black skinny and a sneaker. You found a black sports bra and matching small pant underneath all the clothes.You were thankful because you don’t need to wear your hideous hospital uniform anymore.

“I’m sorry I didn’t mean to be rude buying you those.” He couldn’t finish his word but gesture his hands to his chest up and down and you caught it right away with a awkward laugh.

“It’s fine. It’s comfortable. Thank you.” You smile before taking the seat next to him with a proper distance to eat the takeout’s. You were starving, so you just eat like you usually do. Loud and eating like you’ve been starved for days. He was amused by the sigh of woman eating so loud like that, he couldn’t help to chuckle.

“I bought everything referring to my girlfriend’s size just so you know. I just don’t want you to think that I checked you out or a pervert.”

“It does fit perfectly. I guess I need to thank her someday.”

“No need for that.” He said bitterly, but still had those calm demeanors on his features.

“Why?” You realize that you asked too much. But you couldn’t help yourself.

“She’s dead.” A pang of guilt surge wildly inside you and you was about to apologize when he cut you.

“You look like you needed some sleep.”He lean over to get a clearer view of your dark circle under your eyes.You thought that it must be hard for him to mention her so you stop asking.

“I can’t I have insomnia.” You blurt out slurping the noodle making a loud sound which he had grown use to. He was a bit surprised when you said it like it was nothing to you. Like it doesn’t matter if you sleep or not. He noticed how optimistic you are even after what happened earlier.

“What you usually do when you can’t sleep?” He asked eating his portion in an opposite manner.

“I read.” He scoffed and you shot him a glare as if it’s a weird thing to have reading as a hobby and mouthed ‘what’.

“Leaving your boyfriend alone in bed?”

“No we don’t live together.”

“Odd.”

“What? He never mentioned about it and I never thought about moving out from my house. Besides I love my own privacy. We’re doing just fine living separately.” He made an ‘o’ face and nod.

“I’ve been following you around but didn’t even know your name. That is odd.” You squint your eye to him and he just smiles flaunting his dimple on his cheek. You noticed how good looking the man was, his hair pulled back, fair skin, tall and well built.

“I’m Seungyoun.” You nod with a smile before continue digging into your noodle ignoring the man who was waiting for your turn to tell him your name.

“You?”

“Y/N.”

“Thank you Y/N for trusting me.”

“Actually I don’t trust you.” He cocked his head to the side, confused.

“Why did you follow me though?” He asked and you crooked your brow to search for answer somewhere.

“I don’t know. I just feel safe with you. Maybe that’s why.” He smiled to your answer and let silence engulf the air until you both finish eating. It almost 5 in the morning when you excuse yourself to your room while he still sat in the living room try to decode the chip.

***

You tossed and turn on the bed couldn’t sleep at all. It would be better if you had your book with you so you decided to do what you always did when you were restless. You took your cigarette and just sit on the bathtub. A habit you developed when you’re alone, when you already read all the books in your house, when you don’t know any better thing to do. Lay on the empty tub fully dressed, sometime you managed to fall asleep, waking up with sores all over your body. You rest your head on the cold ceramic staring the lightbulb trying to focus on it. Blocking all the thoughts that been bombarding your mind, all the indistinct voices in your head. You hummed a few melodies and loving how you voice echoed throughout the small spaces.

“Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Are you taking a bath again?”

“No. Just contemplating life.” You heard him chuckle from the other side of the door.

“We’re leaving in ten. Get ready. Tell me if you need more time.”

“I’ll be out in minutes.”

“So, you’re smoking?” he asked eye still on the road but you just nod not caring if he see it or not.

“It’s an addiction I developed when I couldn’t sleep or I had read the entire book.” Your eyes still on the road. You know the stigma people had for girls who smokes.But he didn’t throw you dirty looks or anything he just focused on the road.

“Where are we going?”

“We’re going to hand this to someone, I can’t decode the microchip. I had to admit, I’m bad at that kind of stuff.” He chuckeld.

“I thought you said we can’t trust anyone.”

“He’s in my team.”

You were tailing him closely inside a café walking to far back corner of the café where you can see a tall man waved at Seungyoun with a big smile on his face.

“Seungwoo.” Seungyoun called when the other guy pulls him into a welcoming hug. You just bowed to him and you saw he was confused for a minute before bowing back to you.

“Here.” Seungyoun slides the microchip to Seungwoo and he start to work on the microchip without a word.

“You want anything to eat?” Seungyoun asked with a soft voice that caught you off-guard. You look at him with wide eye and he looked slightly confused.

“What?” He asked when you looked surprised with the simple question.

“Black coffee.” You almost stuttered, but glad you didn’t.

“Okay.” He grinned then ruffled your head. His gesture made your heart flutter just like how it did when you kissed Wooseok for the first time. He seems to be shocked by his own gesture because he was staring at his hand for a moment before excusing himself to order your coffee leaving you alone with his friend. You played with your finger preventing yourself to ask any question distracting his work.

“You resemble his late girlfriend alot. I really thought that YooA came back to life when I saw you walked in.” You straighten your back because you didn’t know what to comment about that information. You just nod and was thinking whether to thank him or just shut up.

“Did he tell you about her?” You found he was already looking at you and you were shocked when you met his eyes.

Before you could answer him you heard someone was screaming. You recognize that scream, it was the same scream when you was at the hospital, it was like dejavu. Almost like a reflex, you pushed the table to your back and grab Seungwoo’s shoulder pulling him to the ground with you hiding behind the table when you heard a gunshot. Longer this time, multiple shots. The glass window shattered and the shooting just won’t stop. Your heart pounding so hard and you hands were shaking franticly.

“Seungyoun.”You whispered when you bravely peeked you head over the table to look for him. Which you regret instantly as you saw few dead body laying on the floor and stood three armed men one with machine gun you assumed. You lean back on the table and grab your chest. You’re on the verge of crying when you saw innocent people sprawled lifelessly on the floor.

“Hey are you okay.” Seungwoo grab your shoulder and shook your body when your breath starting to shakes as well. But before you could bring your sense back you heard a click. Way too close to your ear. Seungwoo face’s turning pale and he was looking over you.

“Now get up slowly both of you.” You heard a man’s voice from your back and you obeyed as Seungwoo put his hand up and you followed suit.

“You. Turn slowly facing me.” Your breath is still shaking as you turn your body slowly to face the owner of the voice. Your felt your hand itched to move disobeying your brain and you had to ball up you fist to take control of your hand before you do something stupid. You exhaled the breath that you had been holding when you could finally see his face with his gun pointing to your forehead. Twice in the pan of 24 hours. Your eyes were looking for Seungyoun and when you spot him, he was leaned to the counter clutching his ribs. He was shot and that scene of Seungyoun struggled to take cover besides the counter made your blood surged to tour head blurring your eyes. You saw another armed man walking toward him and pointed his gun to his head. You thought you almost faint but no. You did what you thought you only dare doing it in your dream.

You felt the same feeling when you’re at the hospital but stronger this time. Frustration, fear but mostly rage. You had this urgency to run to Seungyoun and save him. You saw how the shooter in front of you moving his thumb to pull the trigger but you beat him to it shoving his hand upward and he shot the ceiling instead distracting the one who was aiming Seungyoun. He was aiming his gun to you now, and Seungyoun was panic, he try move to stop the second shooter but couldn’t.

“Seungwoo get down.” You shouted as you elbowed the guy’s rib full force making him lower his body you saw the opportunity to snatch the gun away from his hand and you did. Shots are fired again and you used the dead man’s body to shield you from the shot and he was dead in instant. You grip his neck to keep him as your shield and you aimed to the second shooter, pulled the trigger and hit his head. The other guy was frantically tried to reload his machine gun and you let go of the man you’ve been holding to shot the last one.

“Back up, back up.” He shouts to the mic on his collar before you blow his head as well. Your chest heaved up and down heart pounding hard. You felt relieved, satisfied. You heard tire screech from afar and you know that was the ‘back up’ that the last guy had summoned. You throw the gun away and run to Seungyoun. You saw Seungwoo too running to the same direction.

“Are you an agent too?”Seungwoo asked eyeing you checking Seungyoun’ wound, he was shot on his lower abdomen and you were confident that the bullet didn’t any of his fatal organs. Seungyoun just stare at you in utter shock couldn’t find any words to say, any question to ask. He was waiting for your answer to Seungwoo’s question. He wanted to know too. Because he know that move, agility and precision.

“No. Where’s your car?”You didn’t look at him or Seungyoun and you were surprised yourself looking at how calm you are in that situation. It’s like someone else had taken over your body with your mind still conscious.  

“Y/N.” Seungyoun called. But you ignored him. You were busy looking for any cloth to press his wound to stop the bleeding.

“At the back.”Seungwoo noticed you were looking for something while he helps Seungyoun to sit.

“Do you have the chip?” He showed you his bag and you nod before looking at the car Seungyoun stole earlier. You’re still thinking about using that car because you left your bag inside but It was impossible to get to the car without being seen by those people.

“Take him to your car.”You ordered to Seungwoo because you can risk Seungyoun’s life for your personal stuff.

“What about you?” Seungwoo ask clearly not agreeing the idea of any of you left behind.

“I’m not going anywhere without you.” Seungyoun took a grip on your arm and you pulled away gently looking at him with an assuring smile.

“I’m taking my stuff in the car. Meet me at the hospital few blocks away. Wait for me at the ER.” You took off your jacket then your tee leaving only your sports bra and both men were in shock. You press his wound with you tee and put his hand over it asking him to put some pressure to stop the bleeding before letting it go, putting back your jacket and run out from the café to the car ignoring their protest.

You waited for a while until few black car came in sight. You waited until they saw you and sprinting with all your energy when they started chasing you to give Seungwoo and Seungyoun more time to escape.You escaped the chaser by hiding at the alley and blending in with people in the busy road. You didn’t know how but every movement that you made like it was involuntary. It’s like your body has a mind of its own. It’s like you had known every corner of the alley and the road. You couldn’t help to think that something was missing and you had found a fragment from the shattered memories you had lost. The one that you swore to Wooseok that you will never try to find.

You rushed to the ER and your guess was right, nobody paid any attention to you, the ER was hectic, a chaos you would say, nurses and doctor rushed to one bed to another, few patients was left on the wheelchair unattended. You took the opportunity to sneak into the storage room to take everything you need to treat Seungyoun’s wound and rush out unnoticed running as fast as you can to Seungwoo’s car that was already waiting for you at the waiting area. You were greeted by glares from Seungyoun who was leaned on the back seat and Seungwoo drove away leaving the hospital before anyone notice.

***

“Are you sure you’re not an agent Y/N?” Seungwoo asked again after you done treating Seungyoun’s wound and sedated him so he can sleep.

“Yes Seungwoo. I am hundred percent sure.” You take the seat opposite to him on the couch. You’re at his mother’s house which is vacant since his mother decided to move back to their hometown. He said that it’s safe for them to crash there. But only for a while.

“Where did you get all the swift moves and how do you know how to use guns?” He asked again suspiciously.

“I’m working for the crime forensic. I used to train with the police because it’s necessary when your work is associated with crime and the police.” You explained try to convince him. Because it was the truth. You’re not the best and never once you shot anyone or did anything like you did at the café before. You never were in such situation before. You never had the courage. But seeing Seungyoun on the floor triggered something inside you, but you don’t know what is it that had been triggered that gives you so much courage to shot someone like that. Seungwoo just give you a long sigh.

“You did well though. Thank you for saving us.” You looked at him and he seems like giving to ask you more question. You lay on the couch waiting for Seungyoun to wake up while Seungwoo went to see their boss to report about the microchip. You fell asleep with ease that afternoon.

  AN: This is by far my favorite fics that I ever written, I have tons of action fics in my draft that I never had the chance to finish because I ran out of idea. So I won’t make this one long and will only make two parts because I’m afraid that my mind went blank again. Feel free to like and repost and I hope you enjoy it. Part two is almost halfway done. Please, enjoy.

[nitr0glycer1ne]

Ducktober/Duckvember Day 10 - DT87

-FInally, I'm writing for two of my favorite characters: Fenton and Gyro!!! When I was a kid and read Donald or Scrooge comics, Gyro was my favorite character :) at first I wasn't really happy with his portrayal in DT17, but I've come to really like him as his own character. I just hope that season 3 will be the occasion to see him being friendlier to Fenton... I didn't watch DT87, but I did look Fenton up and decided to use one of his main traits in this story. Hope you enjoy!!

--------

It’s only been four days since the intern has started working with you, and you already can’t stand him.

He’s loud, he’s behaving as if he’s injecting himself with adrenaline and energy drinks every second, he’s clumsy and, worse of all, he doesn’t understand the concept of personal space. You suppose it’s not out of a particular desire to annoy you, that it’s simply the way he is- still, you can’t help but shove him away when he comes too close, whether it be to read a blueprint over your shoulder or to bring you your morning coffee.

Well, at least you’re thankful for that. Although you love the latte from the shop down the road leading to your employer’s Money Bin, you can’t stand the barista, some kind of stuck-up duck who looks at you as if you have the plague or something. The intern doesn’t have this problem; he’s the kind of person to enjoy chatting with everyone. The proof is that he keeps talking to you, even though you’ve spent the last four days making it clear that you don’t want him to.

The concept of silence is apparently something Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera has yet to understand.

Oh, well. At least he brings you a tall, warm cup of latte with two sugars every morning, just the way you like it. You’re kind of impressed it’s only taken him four days to get it right, but there’s no way you’ll tell him that. He’s already glued to your hip like a puppy, following you everywhere and asking question after question; no need to encourage this behavior by making him think you’re proud of him or something. Yes, it’s flattering to have someone calling you by your actual title of Doctor (with five PhDs, thank you very much) and be constantly impressed with your inventions, it’s a nice change from the money obsessed morons who keep scolding you about your creations turning evil (like it’s your fault!), but Fenton manages to make that praise insufferable.

It’s not like you even wanted an intern to begin with. You were perfectly happy in your laboratory, your sacred domain, the one where your reign was absolute and your decisions unchallenged, a safe retreat from Scrooge McDuck’s office and his stupid board of executives, the ones who go on about unnecessary costs and who want to restrain your genius. You didn’t need anybody.

But one day, Scrooge told you he had signed a partnership with Duckburg University, something about receiving funding for research if you took in an intern- an unpaid one, of course, he had been quick to precise. You had scoffed; as if Scrooge had been willing to pay for one more employee. You had been furious, too, and you had screamed, outraged; but in the end, you had given in, in part because your employer had threatened to fire you, but mostly because you need those funds, desperately. Your inventions, as brilliant as they are, don’t exactly come cheap, especially since sometimes (okay, maybe often) you have to clean up the mess they’ve done.

So you have ended with Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera, of all people.

You haven’t chosen him. Actually, he has been the only one to apply for the position; it had been quite a blow to your ego, since you thought every student in the university’s science curriculums would have rushed at the opportunity to work with the brilliant Dr Gyro Gearloose.

But they hadn’t.

You had quickly brushed it off; they had been too scared, that was all. Your genius intellect could be threatening, you knew it. They had simply not felt up to the task.

You had barely looked at Fenton’s file before he came, eager-eyed, on his first day. Sure, he’s the best student in his curriculum, and has already done an internship in a small laboratory- not that any of this means anything to you.

Others simply can’t get on your level. It’s not boastfulness; you’re simply stating a fact. Others don’t get you. You solve problems before they’re done exposing them, you connect dots they can’t even see.

And no matter how much enthusiasm Fenton pours into his new job, no matter how he watches your every move and takes notes on everything you do or say, no matter how many times he’s said he admires you, it’s never going to make up for the tremendous gap between your brains.

After four days, you’re finally done with having a twenty-five-year-old behaving like a fourteen-year-old groupie looking at you as if he’s watching an animal at the zoo. So you snap and, even though Scrooge asked you to let him simply observe you during his first week so he could get used to your lab before properly assisting you, you send him to the small deck on the other side of the room with a thick pile of paper, aggressively asking him to fill it. He nods with a proud smile, and just as if you’re wondering if he’s going to cry of joy or something equally ridiculous and disproportionate, he dashes to the small desk and gets to work.

You sigh and finally go back to your own project, relieved and enjoying the peace. You’ve given Fenton the part you hate most about your work- calculations. Of course, you’re good at math, that’s not the issue; it’s just that it’s so time consuming, time that could be spent actually building the things based on your calculations.

You’ve been tinkering for a while, trying to get your newest project to work as intended – it’s a little thing, a light bulb built on a small metallic body, but you just know it’s going to change lives. You’re screwing the light bulb on, when you hear quick steps behind you and you cringe, wondering what Fenton has come up with to disturb you again.

“Dr Gearloose, it’s all done!” he proudly explains, a stupid smile on his beak, as he hands you the heavy stack of paper.

Your eyes widen and you blink slowly. You can feel anger building inside you, and you get up, aggressively taking the papers from his hands.

“Are you mocking me?! There’s 150 pages in there-” “157, actually-” “Do not interrupt me, intern! This is filled with fifth degree equations and functions that take over a page to write! Do you think my work is based on primary school mathematics?! There’s no way you have filled all of them in, in-” you quickly glance at your watch, “less than two hours!” “But I… I have, Dr Gearloose!” he looks lost, and he reminds you of a puppy you’d have yelled at. “I swear! And… and I checked all of my calculations!”

You quickly flip through the thick pile, and you’re astonished to see that, indeed, all the pages are filled with numbers and letters, all in the neatest handwriting you’ve seen a scientist have. You have trouble believing they’re not made up, and you have even more trouble believing he’s had the time to check all the operations.

“Did you make up those numbers?” you ask, squinting your eyes. “I swear I didn���t! I just… I’m good at calculus?”

You laugh, a dry laugh without any trace of joy. You know people who’re good at mental calculations- hell, you’ve seen your own employer accurately counting how much money is in his bin with a single glance. But you’ve never heard of anyone capable to give the answer to fifth degree equations without needing a paper and a pencil.

You only believe in what you see, so you let the pile of paper fall on your desk with a heavy bang, and you grab your calculator.

“You’re good at calculus, really.” you snort. There’s no way. There’s simply no way. You can’t do it, so there’s no reason Fenton can. “Yeah!” he nods vigorously. “Alright, then, intern. Let’s see about that. If you’ve solved and calculated all of this, as you claim you have, you’ll have no issue with a quick test? That shouldn’t be difficult for you, right?” “Anything you want, Dr Gearloose!”

He looks so eager to prove his innocence that you want to slap him. At the same time, you can’t help but feel the tiniest prick of guilt at his distressed expression. You quickly press a few keys on your calculator, coming up with a complex operation, one that Fenton’s sure to have trouble with.

“Okay, then. What’s the thirteenth root of-”

You’re not angry enough to simply say the number. There’s a bit of curiosity overtaking your irritation, and you write the number on the board near you- it’s a hundred digits long. Fenton nods, locks his eyes on the monster of a number you’ve challenged him with, and you can practically see the gears turning in his mind. You can’t help but be intrigued by the look of concentration on his face, although you don’t have the time to fully take it all in, because not even ten seconds have passed when he answers:

“45 678 912.”

Your beak slightly hangs open as you check your calculator, and sure enough, Fenton’s right. Your eyes quickly move, staring at his expression. He doesn’t look smug at all- if anything, he looks hopeful, like a child showing his parents a good report card.

Unable to believe in what you’re saying, you quiz him again. You ask him to calculate the fourteenth power of a number, you write down operations that take the whole board; and every time, in a few seconds, Fenton answers you correctly.

At first, anger boils within you, maybe tinted with jealousy- you push that thought away, there’s no way you’re going to be jealous of Fenton Crackshell-Cabrera. But as you write more and more, as your fingers almost tremble above the calculator and your wrist tires from the pace at which you write the equations and calculations down, you can’t help but feel giddy, and you almost smile when Fenton correctly solves the last problem.

It’s been a while since you’ve found someone who can challenge any aspect of your intellect; you’re not even sure that’s already happened. And Fenton looks so happy to calculate everything you throw at him, so glad to please you rather than to impress you, that you can’t help but be contaminated and feel a bit of his enthusiasm.

“OK, intern, that’ll be it.” You finally announce. You’re stubborn, some would even say obstinate; but you’ve had enough proof of Fenton’s extraordinary ability. Not that you’re going to use those terms with him. “I guess you do calculate faster than most people. Have you always been so quick?” you inquire. You can’t help but be curious about things you can’t fully comprehend; you’re a scientist, after all. “Ah, thanks, Dr Gearloose!” Fenton beams. “I guess so. I just… I don’t know if it makes sense, but I like numbers- I always have. I’m good with them, and… this is stupid, but it’s… comforting, in a way? I just… picture them in my head, and it’s like they move on their own when I have to do math, if that makes sense. Sorry, it’s weird.” “Stop apologizing all the time, it’s annoying.” you groan, hating the way Fenton’s words resonate within you. “I guess it makes sense.”

Of course it makes sense. It’s the same for you; you can see how atoms can interact, complex chemistry formulas and molecules dancing in your head, you can exactly picture how circuits work, how the electricity will run through them. You’ve always seen the world that way, and you’ve never understood how people who don’t manage to have the tiniest grasp on reality. But Fenton’s your intern, not your confident, so you’re not going to tell him all of that.

Not yet, at least.

“Well, since you like numbers that much, I guess you’ll be happy to do all of those annoying calculations now.” you announce, turning back towards the small robot lying on your bench. “Of course, Dr Gearloose!”

You don’t need to see his face to feel the joy and pride radiating from every fiber of his being.

Just like he doesn’t need to see yours to sense the tiny smile on your beak as you wonder if maybe, there’s a small chance you’ve found someone you can truly discuss with.

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

The ability I used is 1987!Fenton's impressive capacity to count things at a single glance. I changed it to fit his character better, since 2017!Fenton isn't an accountant but a scientist.

That might have been obvious with the fics focusing on Louie or on Jim, but I really like using fanfiction as a way to dive into a character's personality, to understand why they act the way they do, how they could act in certain situations. I love character studies!!

I think Gyro's arrogance comes from not really being challenged or threaten by another character's intelligence, which makes him feel superior but also isolated and not really able to communicate with other people. I feel like he'd be threatened by Fenton at first, but maybe slowly warm up to him when finally coming to terms with the fact that Fenton's skills can match his in some areas, and that it's good to finally be able to have someone understand him.

[entomjinx]

Flaming

Prompt: I'm not jealous.

The winter winds of Magnolia were violent and frigid, but that didn't stop Gray from pulling off his shirt and throwing it who knows where. As per usual, he was pissed at the dragon slayer he called his best friend, and as per usual, it wasn't even Natsu's fault. Despite knowing this, he couldn't help the rage that boiled beneath his skin.

From where he sat in the guild, he couldn't hear what Natsu was talking about, but his face was slightly flushed as he spoke to Lisanna and Lucy, who were both smirking. They continued to talk for several more minutes, and Natsu's face got steadily brighter and brighter. Gray had nearly jumped up and challenged Natsu just to get him away from the girls, who had to be scheming something.

"They have to be scheming something." The thought hadn't come from nothing. Lisanna had been in love with the oblivious slayer as a child, and Lucy isn't exactly subtle with the way she throws herself at him. "Why can't they just back off?"

After a while longer, Gray couldn't watch it anymore. "Hey, Ash-for-Brains," He shouted as he stood up, "I'm bored! Spar me!"

Natsu's head whipped towards him, a large smile plastered on his red face. He nearly shouted a conformation, but both of the girls he was talking with grabbed his shoulders.

"Sorry, Gray," Lucy shouted, "Natsu is a bit busy!" It took all of his willpower not to glower at the girl.

"We'll return him later," Lisanna promised.

"You'l return him later? He's not your property!" The ice mage swallowed his irritation and attempted to rationalize with himself as he turned to leave the guild. "I mean, he's not mine either, so why am I-" Gray shook his head slightly. He was already half-way home and clad in only his underwear, leaving him as exposed to the world as the reason for his actions was exposed to his mind. "Don't kid yourself, Gray. You know why you're like this."

Love was a word Gray used to hate. Not because it was a bad thing, but because everyone he'd ever associated it with had died. His mom, his dad, his childhood friends, his extended family, and his teacher were all gone, and until a few years ago, he'd have believed it was his fault.

Natsu changed that.

The pink-haired idiot had taught him that it was okay to cry, to trust in other, and to love himself, which was something that Gray had been unable to do for a long time.

"I love him, but he could never return that. Not in the same way."

Natsu was three seconds from decking both Lucy and Lisanna in the face and being done with it. They'd been bugging him for the past few hours, poking and prodding for personal information that he didn't feel like sharing. "They didn't even let me spar with Gray!"

"Come on, Natsu!" Lisanna was repeatedly poking him in the arm, desperate for an answer. "There has to be someone you like." She was smiling mischievously, and with Lucy mirroring the look, it was unnerving.

"Why won't you tell us?" Lucy was poking his other arm, effectively blocking his exit route. "It can't be that you're embarrasses are you?"

"Why," Natsu hissed out, "can't you except 'It's none of your fucking business' as an answer?" Many guild members had been watching them from a distance, curious about what was going on. Some had even made their way closer, like Mira. "Because it isn't any of your business." He made sure to bare his teeth a little more than the past few times he'd basically told them to piss off. Maybe they'd get the hint this time.

"But-"

Natsu wasn't even sure if it was Lisanna or Lucy, but he cut them off with a loud, "No," and the shoved them both away, "I'm going home. Bye, everyone." He ran over to the door and slipped out. He ran the long distance to his house, cold winds slapping him in the face and reddening it even more.

"If they found out I was in love with a guy, they'd never forgive me."

With the exception of The four dragon slayers he grew up with, Gajeel had never met anyone denser than the mages of Fairy Tail. He had listened to Lucy and Lisanna constantly prodding the annoying fire dragon he called his cousin. They had been close as children, not quite enough to call each other "brother", but that didn't mean he couldn't read Natsu like they were brothers.

The five of them had had a habit of people watching that allowed them to notice things no one else would, but something they all seemed to have in common is that they never seemed to notice anything pertaining to themselves. They used to laugh about these situations all the time, but now, it was hurting one of them. It may not be physical pain, but emotional pain was just as bad.

Gajeel sat quietly, formulating a plan, and damn was he proud of it.

"Now all I have to do is get us all in one place, at the same time, and make it look completely inconspicuous."

When Sting and Rogue had shown up claiming they wanted to hang out with the other dragon slayer like they had a children, Natsu had ridden it off as coincidence. They had stayed for a few hours and talked about everything that had happened since the dragons had left, and it had been nice. Several others had sat and listened to the stories along the way, and to Makarov's delight, not one brawl had been started,room, and the despite the fact that most all of the teenagers were in the guild's back room, together.

Then the sun started to set, and they proposed the idea of a game and brought out a special kind of alcohol. "Where did you even get that?" The pinkette asked. They had several bottles of the one kind of alcohol humans didn't sell, and it was then that Natsu started suspecting things. "Never mind, I don't want to know. Why'd you bring it though? That shit's expensive, and you can only get it from inhumans. Why waste it now?" Vodka was not sold among humans anymore, because there were so few people who could handle it, especially the higher percentage ones. However, if Natsu wanted to get drunk, he'd have to drink the higher percentage ones. His magic would burn all of it away otherwise. If he wanted it to last longer than a few minutes, then he'd have to add a special herb to it.

"The very herb that Wendy had in her hand," He noted. It worked the same way that cat-nip worked with cats but on dragons, so technically, he'd be high, not drunk.

"I see that look Natsu." Sting said annoyed, "You think we have ulterior motives." He paused, and when Natsu continued to analyze every last twitch of his body, he continued, "We don't. We just want to play a game of Never Have I Ever, and teach them how to play too."

Everyone seemed to brighten up at the thought of playing a game they'd never heard of, and the enormous grin that had been stretched across Sting's face was not helping Natsu's situation. Once Rogue pulled out the shot glasses, he knew there was no way he'd get anyone to back out of it.

With a look of utter disbelief, Natsu reluctantly agreed to play.

"Okay, so here's how the game works," Wendy began, "When it's your turn, you say 'Never Have I Ever' and then say something you've never done. If someone in the circle has done it before they down the shot." Several guild members looked at the shot glasses incredulously. They were only half the size that they were used to, and the drink inside was supposed to be flavored with whatever it said on the bottle. "Feel free to switch to water if you have to. This stuff is really strong."

Gajeel reached into his bag and pulled out a box that he passed to Wendy. "I know I don't have to say this, but you're not touching the alcohol."

Wendy's eyes lit up as she realized the box was filled with all of her favorite sodas, and she didn't hesitate to tackle the iron dragon slayer. "Thank you, Gajeel!"

He pushed her off gently and ruffled her hair, "Yeah, yeah. Let's start this thing. Never have I ever accidentally worn my underwear on the outside of my pants."

The group burst into raucous laughter. The laughing increased when Gray was the only one to take a shot and even more when he nearly spit it out. "I was not expecting it to burn like that," His voice had gone slightly hoarse, "Damn." By this point, Gray himself was laughing, and Gajeel signaled to the left at Sting.

"So for those of you who didn't get it, the weirder the thing is, the funnier the game is." When the others nodded, he giggled quietly and smirked, "Never have I ever let someone dress me up like a life-sized doll."

As soon as the words left his lips, a very violent "Fuck you," slipped out of Natsu's mouth as he snatched the shot glass and downed it like water. A few of the girls had also taken shots, but the attention was on the pinkette.

"Sorry, NaNa." Sting said joyously.

Natsu glared at him, "No you aren't, asshole." The group watched the exchange curiously, and Natsu sighed. "They'll never let me live this down." After steeling himself for the inevitable teasing, he quietly admitted to letting Wendy dress him up, play with his hair, and even put makeup on him when they were kids. While there was teasing, there were also several mentions of it being sweet of him from the girls.

"I think I still have pict-" Sting was abruptly cut off when a wooden sandal hit him in the face.

Natsu was smiling, but it seemed to be emitting it's own deadly aura. "No you don't," He said cheerfully. Those sitting closest to the fire dragon slayer, Gray, Lucy, Lisanna, and Erza, all shifted away slightly.

"That's terrifying."

The game had been going on for an hour now. Several of them had switched to water, and a handful had dropped out entirely, choosing to watch the chaos in their tipsy states. Cana, Gajeel, Rogue, Lucy, Lisanna, and Natsu were the only one's who hadn't switched to water or been given a soda from Wendy. Wendy, Erza, Levy, and Gray had all switched to water.

And Sting?

Sting was a lightweight and completely unconscious in Rogue's lap.

"Nev-Never have I ever," Lucy had gotten the hiccups about three shots in, and they wouldn't leave no matter what she did, "Had a cr-ush on a childhood friend."

Rogue, Lisanna, Erza, Levy, Gray, and surprisingly Natsu, all downed a shot. After the second never have I ever, they'd decided to tell the stories of whatever had happened, and for the most part, it had gone peacefully.

That wasn't the case this time. Lisanna shouted "I told you so," and immediately attached herself to Natsu, who began pushing her away the second she made contact with him. "You jealous?"

"I am n-ot jealous, and that doesn't m-ean anything!," Lucy shouted back, "He mi-ght not any more!" She reached out to shove Lisanna away, but Erza got in between both of then and Natsu.

"What's this about?" The red-head asked.

They both replied in perfect sync, "I like Natsu, but she likes Natsu, but we don't know who Natsu likes." They both looked like they were about to cry, and they reached for the fire mage again.

He was laughing softly, and the entire room looked at him like he'd lost it. He started to laugh louder and louder, and the two girls who'd been crushing on him began to get angry. Through his laughter he said something in a language they'd only heard a few times, Dravic. The other slayers busted into drunken giggles as well, and the fire mage lit himself on fire, making them laugh harder.

Erza, not wanting to see her friends hurt, glared at the slayer nearest to her, which happened to be Gajeel. "What part of this is funny?" She hissed.

He looked her dead in the eyes, his own filled with mirth, "Erza," He barked out with his laughter, "Erza," He continued to laugh before managing to forcing the sentence out, "He's flaming." The dragon slayers laughed harder.

Natsu dispersed the flames and unintentionally leaned back into Gray, who was behind him. He leaned forward again, face flushed slightly, and apologized half in Fiori and half in Dravic. Gray waved off the apology, and since he was drunk and no one was looking, he decided to pull the fire mage back into him, cuddling in when Natsu didn't move away.

Everyone's eyes were still glued to Erza, who was steadily getting more and more pissed off.

"And what exactly," Erza growled out, "Does that have to do with anything?"

Wendy stepped in between her "cousin" and Titania, choosing to explain before Erza decided to castrate him. "He translated a slang phrase from Dravic," She said gently. She placed her hands on Erza's shoulders and took a deep breath, "He's gay." Erza continued to stare at her blankly, "As in, he likes guys."

"I know what gay means, Wendy," the redhead replied quietly, "I'm just trying to wrap my head around it being used to describe Natsu, as it's not something I expected." She shook her head gently. "Or maybe I'm just tipsier than I thought..." She added. Everyone had cracked up again. After the laughter had died down, she made a humming noise. "It's... It's like being handed a piece of strawberry cake that looks just like strawberry cake, but when you take a bite of it, it's chocolate. There's nothing wrong with chocolate, you're just surprised it's not what you thought it was."

The room silenced, only for the one who started this mess to break it, "We're too shit-faced for this right now," Gajeel muttered. Those who hadn't passed out laughed, and once that died down, people began to sleep where they were. On a table, upside down, or in someone's lap.

The first thing Erza saw when she wake up confused her, until she remembered everything she found out the day before. Natsu was curled up in Gray's lap, dead asleep, and the ice mage was gazing at him adoringly, clearly still mostly asleep.

At that moment she understood that the reason she didn't see it had nothing to do with it not being there, but rather the fact that neither dared to show it. She didn bother to question it any further.

"I could get used to seeing them this happy."

Words: 2,606

[slbp-holiday-exchange-blog]

In Spite of Everything, the Stars (for mandakatt)

FIC: In Spite of Everything, the Stars, by @nightingaledarling Gift Recipient: @mandakatt Character: Masamune/Tomoe Theme(s): Drama/Romance Word count: ~7.2k Rating: R Notes/Warnings: @mandakatt I hope your holiday season has treated you well! Here’s my humble little offering for ya. Hope you like. <3

Onto some housekeeping… I should probably warn for a somewhat graphic depiction of character death, although it’s old age-y death and not bloody. There’s also some emotional infidelity, but is it really necessary to warn for this considering that historically “One Wife 4 Lyfe” wasn’t a thing?? Nevermind, I’m being dumb.

Lastly, the death warning is just a warning! Like all of our favorite epilogues, there is reincarnation. <3

———-

Tomoe feels at home amongst the gleam of freshly-sharpened knives, the gentle rolling bubble of boiling water, the powdery scent of rice flour. For her entire life, this has been her reality, and no other place gives her the leisure of feeling so tranquil.

Today however, her peace is interrupted - not disturbed per se; that’s not the right word. But with Masamune working alongside her, things feel decidedly off, despite the fact that this is his home and kitchen. It doesn’t matter that this space is twice the size of her restaurant’s kitchen in Kyoto. She finds her movements much more cautious, constantly checking herself before turning around, taking an extra second to pause - as if waiting for permission - before reaching to grab for ingredients on the shelves.

Which is bizarre, because so far Masamune has been nothing if not accommodating while they’ve worked together. When she needs a specific cutting board that’s housed on his side of the kitchen, he will not move out of the way but rather bring the board over to her side. At one point, she stands on her tiptoes, reaching for a jar of shoyu on a high shelf. After a moment of struggle, she gives up, thinking that while not perfect, the dish she’s working on will be alright without it. The next thing she knows, Masamune wordlessly sets the jar down at the side of her cutting board before returning to his station.

Things like that. So small and simple but thoughtful all at once. They set her nerves on fire and then immediately soothe them, a phenomenon that she cannot possibly begin to explain.

Naturally this conflict makes her wonder if her next usual step in the cooking process is the wisest. Best case, nothing happens and she maintains politeness. Worst case, she ends up doing or saying something embarrassing.

She commences an internal debate for several minutes before her bolder side wins, and she ladles a bit of soup into a small dish, turning to her companion. “Masamune-sama,” she starts quietly, holding the dish out for him. “Please tell me what you think.”

He gives a single nod and moves toward her. Long fingers graze hers as he takes the dish from her grasp. It is a brief touch - a fraction of a second, really - but the contact is enough to make her freeze.

If he notices her momentary lapse in sense, he is gracious enough not to comment on it as he sips a mouthful of soup. His visible eye narrows in contemplation, and she holds her breath waiting for the verdict.

After a long second, his face relaxes, and a ghost of a smile lifts the corner of his mouth. “Delicious,” he says. “Maybe just a touch more miso.”

“Of course,” Tomoe nods fervently and turns back to the soup. She tells herself that the heat in her face is just the steam from the pot.

In the end, she fools no one.

—

It’s in the way his hands linger on hers for a second too long when she gives him a fresh towel after training, a gentle appreciation lining his face.

The way his gloved fingertips, warm with unspoken promise, grasp hers at the rim of his helmet as she sees him off to the battlefield with prayers that he will return.

The way he reaches into her space to still her hand on the warmed sake bottle at feasts before pouring her a cup, quietly insisting that this is the very least he can do for her.

It’s in the way that nothing - and yet everything - has changed.

—

Her lord is a creature of habit. For so very long, his routine after dinner was to take tea in his chambers and peruse the minutes from war council, spending many late nights trying to come up with strategies that would make even Kojuro proud.

She is not quite sure how to respond when Masamune begins to break from this routine and take his tea out on the veranda. Logically, she can attribute this to the fact that the trees have begun to flower, welcoming spring. Surely even the strongest of daimyo appreciate fresh air breaks between work.

She can’t be imagining things when she brings Masamune his tea on those nights. She can feel his eyes on her as she carefully pours into his cup and arranges the tray to his liking. The look on his face is so gentle, so unlike the visage he shows his retainers that it makes her chest ache.

He takes the cup, gazes contemplatively at its liquid depths and then at the spot on the floor right in front of the tray. He looks almost like he’s pausing to find words, but ultimately all he says is a thank you, flashing her a small, troubled smile and watching her carefully as she stands up.

She bites her lip, turning to leave. She was sure that…

No. She came to Oshu so that she would live her life with no regrets. Summoning up bravery from the pit of her gut, she whirls back around to meet a look of utter surprise on Masamune’s face. “Masamune-sama, would you mind terribly if I joined you for a bit?” Please.

He blinks several times before shaking his head. The smile returns to his face, and now it reaches his eyes. “Have a seat.”

—

She thought she would have more time. More time on this earth, more time in Yonezawa Castle, more time with Masamune…

But that’s clearly not in the plans for her. Yoshihime’s poison creeps through her body, paralyzing her limbs, crawling its way into her chest and making its home there.

Her breaths come slow, so slow. Her mind goes hazy and thick.

In her last lucid moment, she wishes she could see Masamune once more.

And then she falls, lured into death’s embrace.

—

She thinks she hears a voice, softly reading to her. Then there’s what feels like the press of damp cloths to her skin.

Someone running their fingers through her hair, soothing and rhythmic.

Caught in that space between dreams and reality, she’s not sure how much time passes in this fashion, and she’s not sure if it really matters.

She feels safe and cherished like this, and for now, that’s enough.

When she opens her eyes, Masamune is sitting at her side. He leans in close, brow furrowed, searching her face for - she’s not sure. Recognition? Signs of something wrong?

He looks so worried, though. She doesn’t like it. Not when she’s seen how he looks when he smiles. She blinks slowly, willing her limbs to move, and weakly reaches up to grasp the hand gently cradling her face. The movement jostles his fingers, and the sensation of his touch on the sensitive skin of her neck sends a pleasant shiver down her spine.

“Masamune-sama,” she calls to him, her voice scratchy and hoarse, but the sound is enough to ease the tension from his frame. His shoulders sag, and his face relaxes. He looks so much younger like this.

“Thank the gods. I thought…” he trails off, swallowing. “I thought I’d lost you.”

The words make her heart skip a beat.

“You didn’t,” Tomoe answers, feeling a bit lightheaded. “I’m right here.”

The corner of his lip curls in a smile. “So you are. Can we keep it that way?”

Perhaps it’s her sleep-addled brain, or perhaps it’s the look in his eyes. Something makes her assertive, more decisive. Or maybe more foolish. Regardless, she finds a courage she didn’t know she had and nuzzles into his hand, briefly pressing her lips to the bottom of his palm before turning her gaze up to him again. “I will be by your side for as long as you wish it.”

Foolish or not, it’s the right thing to do, the right words to say, because his gaze softens with another shade of affection as he answers, “For always, then.”

And she knows, gods she knows - he means it.

—

Things are different after that. Kojuro often comments on how gentle and relaxed Masamune is these days, all the while giving Tomoe meaningful looks.

A few lower-ranking retainers have stopped her in the hall, making a point to tell her how glad they are that their lord has become much less scary and much more approachable.

Shigezane is the most direct, to the point of actually saying to her over dinner one night, “It’s all because of you, Tomoe - thank you for being the one to finally make my cousin happy.”

That in particular makes the heat rush to her cheeks, but she’s not alone. When she looks at the man in question, Masamune also has a rather embarrassed look on his face.

He certainly doesn’t deny it, in any case.

—

Her breath catches in her throat.

Although she’s almost afraid to touch, curiosity and wonder win as she reaches out to run her fingers over the fabric. What fine silk, with such a beautiful muted red color. Images dash along the sleeves and the hem, sparrows and bamboo reeds alike all interweaving for an intricately unique pattern.

The strength in her legs dwindles, and she falls back on her feet, holding the kimono out at arm’s length, unable to believe her eyes. When Masamune had pulled her aside after lunch earlier today and said that he had prepared something for her in her chambers, this was not what she was expecting.

Well… she honestly wasn’t sure what she was expecting, but this is too much.

After the initial shock wears off, she hurries to find him.

It’s an easy enough task. Her lord has taken to gazing up at the moon again on the veranda outside his chambers. When she sees him, her steps falter.

He is decidedly unguarded today, his eyepatch nowhere in sight. He turns to her, his eyes clear and bright and shining like gems.

He’s breathtaking like this. She begins to feel an unbidden stinging at the back of her own eyes.

“Good evening,” he greets her, tone calm and happy and almost shy. “Did… did you see your gift?”

“I did,” Tomoe swallows, approaching him slowly. “But I can’t possibly accept it.”

When his brow furrows, she rushes to add, “It must have been so expensive. The fabric is much too exquisite.”

“Ah,” Masamune’s gaze relaxes, and he gestures to the floor next to him. Tomoe tucks her feet under and obediently takes a seat.

He regards her for several long moments, and she’s won over the urge not to fidget. The goal to maintain a neutral facial expression is less successful however, and she can feel the scarlet steadily taking over her cheeks.

“I gave that to you because I wanted you to have it, that’s all. Unless…” He looks unsure of himself now. “Do you not like it?”

She hurries to shake her head. “No, that’s not it - I love it.”

“But…?” He prompts her.

Tomoe wrings her hands. There is no other way to explain this, so she opts for the truth. “I just… I’m not sure that someone like me should wear something so fine. I am a mere cook’s daughter, after all.”

Understanding dawns over Masamune’s face, and a soft look settles in his eyes. He reaches for her hands, which she willingly gives. His thumbs brush over her palms, sending small tingles up her wrists.

“Cook’s daughter and all,” he says earnestly, “You’re perfect.”

And when he looks like that, what else can she do but believe him?

—

Lingering glances when no one is looking. Eager touches to hands and wrists when passing in the hall.

Long moments standing close together in the kitchen under the guise of tasting food, and staying up late to watch the moon and resting her head on his shoulder.

Sweet, quick kisses in the privacy of his chambers when she brings him his morning tea and secretive, toe-curling kisses in dark corners when they meet at midnight.

All of it makes Tomoe weak-kneed, sends her heart racing and her head up in the clouds, delirious with happiness.

In her more rational moments, she thinks that a relationship in these circumstances isn’t the most stable or secure.

However, she doesn’t allow herself to acknowledge those thoughts for very long, pushing them to the back of her mind instead.

That is her first mistake.

—

As she returns from the castle well with a pail of fresh water, Tomoe is greeted with the sight of Kojuro walking with an older man she has never seen before.

The man must be of very high station, judging by the fine quality of his robes. Kojuro nods in her direction, silently acknowledging her, and she bows as the two men pass.

“I look forward to speaking with you again, Katakura-dono,” the stranger says pleasantly. “Tamura Gozen will be very pleased with the arrangement.”

“I am sure. Thank you for taking the time to see us today,” Kojuro says, and while he is polite enough, Tomoe has been around him long enough to identify the tension hidden in his tone.

Curiosity bubbles up inside Tomoe as she returns to the kitchen with the pail. After setting aside some water to boil, she leans back against the wall, thinking about the conversation she just witnessed.

Who was that man? What arrangement was he speaking about? Who was Tamura Gozen?

Why did Kojuro sound that way? If this was some sort of political alliance, should he not have sounded happier than he did?

The questions stew around in her head as she uses the water to make some of Masamune’s favorite mochi. She’s in the middle of rolling it out when she hears someone clear their throat behind her.

Tomoe turns to see Kojuro leaning against the entrance to the kitchen. His brow is furrowed, his lips set in a thin line.

“Kojuro-sama,” she addresses him politely. When he says nothing, she adds hesitantly, “Is something the matter?”

Still he doesn’t say anything, and the look of concentration on his face tells her that he is carefully considering his words. Then, “You have been invaluable to us all. I thank you for everything you have done, especially for Masamune-sama.”

Unsure of where this conversation is headed, she puts her knife down warily.

“In all of my years of service to him, I have not seen Masamune-sama the way he is with you. He is kinder. He’s begun to open his heart more,” Kojuro explains. “It’s because of you.”

She warms at that. “Masamune-sama has changed on his own, surely. All I’ve done is care for him.”

“And that’s precisely why,” Kojuro answers, a hint of a smile on his face. Then he sobers and adds, “Things may change in the next few weeks - in ways that you may not like. As much as I wish I could ask you to stay for his sake, it would be selfish of me to do so. Therefore… should you decide to leave, I wouldn’t fault you for it.”

A heavy, sinking feeling settles in the bottom of her stomach. “Forgive me for being so frank, but… what exactly are you saying, Kojuro-sama?”

He sighs, crossing his arms. “He asked me not to tell you.” Kojuro frowns, taking only a moment to consider it before going on to say, “The man from earlier was a marriage liaison. Masamune-sama is to take a bride.”

His answer is simple, with so few words. But it makes Tomoe wish that she never asked at all.

Their romance is over, and it never even had a chance to really begin.

—

Deep down, she supposes she’s known all along that Masamune would have to take a wife at some point. Even raised from an outsider’s point of view, she knew that in addition to marrying those of a similar social class, samurai were pressured to marry in order to forge political alliances.

She had just… chosen to remain willfully ignorant of that for a while.

But no more.

A sort of vague, sad resignation wells up in her when she speaks to Masamune that night, saying that Kojuro had told her everything.

He shakes his head, insisting that nothing is set in stone. And she comes right back, saying that she understands this is for the good of the Date clan, so he must, he must.

And after many exchanges - tears and embraces and words that hurt but must be said - he agrees with her.

—

They had agreed to meet tonight, but she’s sure he was not expecting this.

The look on Masamune’s face when she enters his chambers is one she has never seen before. His cheeks are flushed, lips parted, eyes wide and heated with desire. She wants to commit that face to her memory forever.

Tonight, she is wrapped in the silk of the beautiful red kimono he had given her. The hem kisses the ground, leaving a trail of pure white sparrows and bamboo in her wake.

She has rouge rubbed to her cheeks and lips, imported kohl smudged in the outer corners of her eyes, thanks to Umeko’s help.

Her wrists have been gently perfumed with sweet-smelling oils. Her hair is done up, held in place with the hairpin Masamune had given her so long ago.

She wants to make this a night he will never forget, because she certainly won’t forget either.

Masamune reaches for her then. She goes willingly, melting into his embrace as he presses kisses behind her ear, down her neck.

“You’re breathtaking,” he murmurs into her skin, trailing a hand up her wrist, up her shoulder. Plucking the pin from her hair and setting it down on the floor.

Tomoe’s heart is full as he lowers her to the bedding. She reaches out, wanting him, wanting to be close to him, wanting all of him. He follows, sinking on top of her and taking her lips in hungry, eager kisses.

Vaguely she can feel his hands working to loosen her obi at the same time that she pushes his robes from his shoulders. The warm, balmy air of late summer hits her skin and she sighs blissfully into his mouth.

Masamune is quite the generous lover, apparently. For all the attention he bestows on her, never does he demand the same. He presses kisses into her mouth, her neck, her collarbone and breasts and ribs and hips, some gentle, some bruising.

When he lowers his head to her chest to take a nipple into his mouth, she arches into him. He suckles hard at her, coaxing a low moan out of her throat.

His fingers find purchase at her soft hips, at first squeezing gently, then drifting across the top of her thigh. They dip and ease into her folds, and she cries out. She parts her legs more, his fingers move inside her, stroking and teasing and pulling out and plunging back inside her until she sees stars.

She never did think that she would have this, and through all the sensations in her body, the tingling, and the ever-present heat between her hips, she brings him close, wraps her arms around him. Her fingers shove through his hair and she kisses him deeply, desperately, so he can feel for himself just how much she wants and needs and desires him, even if she cannot keep him.

It feels like forever, the amount of time he spends touching her, exploring all of the most sensitive and responsive spots of her body, that she’s not prepared when he parts from her only to divest himself of the rest of his clothing.

“I want you,” he says, voice low and hoarse with desire. The skin of his neck gleams with a thin sheen of sweat, his pupils blown so wide his eyes are almost black. His chest is flushed and heaves slightly with the effort of just barely holding himself back.

She’s never wished for anything more in her whole life. So she reaches up, cups his face with both her hands. “I’m yours,” she answers, because it’s true.

And when he finally pushes in and fills her up so much she almost can’t take it, then leans forward to take her lips in an achingly sweet kiss, she feels like she could cry.

It might be minutes or it might be hours she spends like that, wrapped up in his embrace as he loses himself in her body, taking her pleasure and giving it back to her tenfold. She wants to stay here like this always, here with him, here in this emotional haze where nothing and everything makes sense.

She can’t tell where she ends and he begins, if her heart is in her chest or in her throat, and just when she feels like her soul could go flying, he brings her back down with a bruising kiss and forearms on either side of her head, locking her in a cage she doesn’t want to escape.

No matter what happens, he is it for her.

She knows this.

She knows it now, and she knows it much, much later, when they are sated and exhausted and curled up together under the covers.

It’s a fragile sort of silence that falls over them, both all too aware that tonight is the first and last night they can be together like this.

Tomoe is content to stay here for a while, just resting her head on his chest. Her fingers drum out absent little patterns on his abdomen. He reaches for her hand, fingers boyishly playing with hers, so sweetly innocent compared to their earlier activity.

“Did you see the pattern on your kimono?” He speaks finally.

“Mm,” Tomoe closes her eyes. “Bamboo and sparrows.”

“Both are part of the Date clan’s emblem. I’m…” Masamune clears his throat, something like discomfort lacing his tone. “I’m sure you noticed.”

“I did, but I wasn’t sure if I was reading into things.”

“You weren’t. At the time, I had given it to you in order to signify you as mine. But now…” Masamune’s breath hitches. “I hope that you’ll take it as a token to remember me by.”

Tomoe’s eyelids slide open again, and she sits up, turning to gaze at Masamune. Her heart may ache with this decision, but she is determined. “…I’m not going anywhere.”

“Tomoe,” he sighs, his expression dark with guilt.

“I told you once before, Masamune-sama. I will be by your side for as long as you wish it.” Tomoe reaches over to place a hand on his heart. She can feel it beat, quick and steady, just for her. “So until you tell me otherwise, I will be with you - for always.”

—

When autumn comes, Date Masamune is married to a lady of the Tamura clan. She is beautiful and learned and she is his equal in every way.

In a move for which any person knowing the intricacies of their relationship would call her mad, Tomoe makes the food that is served at the wedding feast.

And not only does she cook for the wedding feast, she cooks for the feasts celebrating the birth of his daughter, and then of his son.

Frankly, the occasion doesn’t matter. Cooking and making people happy because of delicious food have always been her passions, and the preparation soothes her. So even when Umeko shakes her head sadly, or when Shigezane sends her troubled looks over the dinner tray, she doesn’t mind.

She’s made her peace with this fate, accepts it, embraces it even, in a bittersweet sort of way.

She loves him quietly from afar. And that is enough.

—

“Guess who?”

It’s so obvious. Who else would do this? “Be careful, Soujiro-sama. What if I had been holding a knife?”

The intruder’s hands disappear, and her view of the kitchen is unobstructed once more. A young boy comes round from behind her. Not quite an adolescent yet, though he would probably disagree. The messy black hair atop his head and the toothy grin remind her distinctly of her brother in his younger days. “Even if you were, you wouldn’t hurt me, Tomoe-nee. You wouldn’t hurt a fly.”

“You give me far too much credit,” Tomoe sighs, smiling gently. Then she stops to consider something. It’s only shortly after midday, which means… “Forgive my rudeness, but should you not still be in lessons right now, Soujiro-sama?”

“Kojuro let me out early. He said I should get some fresh air,” the boy says cheerily. When Tomoe sends him a hard, skeptical look, his grin falters and he fidgets and then puts his hands together in a desperate plea. “…Alright, he may or may not think I’m out for a toilet break right now. Please don’t tell on me!”

“I won’t, but I must insist that you return. We both know how Kojuro-sama can be.”

“And I will. After a little while. I’m already this late, what’s a few more minutes?” Soujiro grins. Tomoe is struck dumb by just how much he resembles his father, from the deep forest green of his eyes to the curve of his mouth when he smiles, though Soujiro’s is given much more freely. She tears her gaze away and gives a brief shake of her head, picking up her pestle again and continuing her work.

“What are you making?” Soujiro leans in curiously.

“Zunda,” Tomoe replies, pausing again so he can see the crushed soybeans at the bottom of the mortar. After a moment’s debate, she throws in another pinch of sugar and continues mashing. “Your father has been off to the front more often than not in recent months. I thought he might enjoy something sweet to restore his energy.”

Soujiro rests his chin on one of his palms. “That’s really nice of you, Tomoe-nee. You treat my father well.”

The statement catches her off-guard. “Well… I’ve served your father for several years. He is a good man.” She allows herself a small, soft smile at the thought of her lord, and when she looks back up, Soujiro’s cheeks are curiously pink.

“Y-Yeah. He is,” the boy mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Who is?”

A familiar voice cuts into the kitchen, and both Tomoe and Soujiro startle, turning toward the intrusion. Masamune stares expectantly at them from the doorway. He must have only just returned, still dressed in his armor, making for a rather intimidating image as he waits for a reply.

The color drains from Soujiro’s face. “Chichiue!”

“I saw Kojuro in the halls just now looking for you,” Masamune raises an unimpressed eyebrow at his son. “Return to your lessons, Soujiro.”

“Y-yes, of course!” The boy almost trips on his own feet as he stumbles toward the kitchen entrance.

She can’t help but pity him. He’ll probably be getting punishments - or at the very least, stern lectures - from both Kojuro and Masamune now. “Work hard, Soujiro-sama. I’ll make some gotto cake for you tonight.”

At this, the boy’s face brightens. “Thanks, Tomoe-nee!” And just like that, he disappears into the corridor.

Masamune sighs, a wry smile crossing his face. “Don’t encourage him. Besides, I’m fairly certain that he wishes to take you as wife already.”

“That’ll change. Just give him a few years,” Tomoe laughs. “Welcome home.”

“Ah. I’m glad to be back,” replies Masamune, and he moves closer, peering into the mortar.

“It’s exactly what you think it is. I’ll bring it to you with your evening tea,” she promises.

“You are far too good to me,” he murmurs gratefully. “Thank you.”

In that moment, she is acutely aware of how alone they are in the kitchen. She looks down and reaches for a bowl. She’s not sure what she plans to do with it, but it’s something to occupy her hands and her eyes for a few seconds.

Then, she feels fingertips, light as a feather, land upon her brow and drift to her hairline, sliding to the soft skin behind her ear.

Sharply she looks up at him again, wide-eyed. What sees is a look she recognizes instantly - because it’s one she has seen many, many times before, and she’s sure it is reflected in her own eyes even now.

His gaze is gentle, laced with affection and fondness and above all - a quiet longing, so undeniable it makes her ache.

—

Seasons come and go. He has more children, takes more lands, and forms more alliances.

Sun lines start to wrinkle her skin. Her joints begin to stiffen.

His hair grows white. His endurance on the battlefield dwindles.

But never does he ask her to leave him, and never does she want to. True to her word, she stays by his side - for always.

—

It is past midnight when she reaches his chambers. His wife is pacing in front of the door, and when she sees Tomoe, her frame instantly slumps in relief.

“Thank god,” Megohime grasps her hands, pulling her to the door. “I fear he does not have much time left.”

Tomoe swallows a lump in her throat. She knew that Masamune’s health was failing, but she did not quite expect the decline to be this rapid. That was life though, was it not? Here one day, gone the next. “I am sorry to hear it, but with all due respect Hime… Why have you called me here?”

“Because Masamune asked for you,” Megohime answers, as if it is the most obvious thing in the world. She looks down, worrying at her sleeves. “Honestly, I knew from the very beginning that Masamune’s heart was not mine. I thought perhaps I could change his mind, that perhaps one day he would grow to love me, especially after I gave him sons… But it was not so. I saw the way he looked at you whenever you would enter the room, and the look in his eyes whenever we would pass by the castle kitchen.”

Tomoe’s eyes begin to sting. “Hime… I’m - ”

Megohime shakes her head. “Please don’t apologize. Just go to him. I have been selfish enough. The least I can do is have him spend his last moments with the one he truly loves.”

A counter-argument on the tip of her tongue, Tomoe holds it and takes a deep breath. Every second she spends out here could be Masamune’s last. Better to follow her lady’s word. Decisively she steps into the room and shuts the door behind her.

Indeed, Masamune looks like he is at death’s doorstep. His skin is pallid, save for mottled patches on his sun-spotted hands. Hair lies dull and flat and limp against the bedding. Eyes closed, lips chapped and colorless.

Tomoe inches closer. He is so still, she fears he may be dead already - until she sees his chest rise and fall, quickly, deeply, then slowly, slowly… until he stops. And the cycle repeats again. Again. Again.

With each breath comes a disturbing rattling sound, and it chills her to the bone. She bites her lip and closes her eyes, even as she reaches for his hand.

His fingers are cool. This pale, weak man so close to the end… He looks so unlike the Masamune she knows. She is aware that people look and sound and feel vastly different when they are dying, but that doesn’t make it any easier to accept, especially when the person in question is the one she has loved for most of her life.

A scratchy sound escapes his throat, almost a groan. “To…” His eyelids lift just barely, but she knows he cannot see anything. He’s past the point of lucidity, acting purely from delirium. “To…”

As soon as she realizes he must be calling for her unconsciously, she squeezes his hand, smiling weakly. “I’m here.”

His eyes slide shut again. A distinct heaviness tugs at her chest, and she muffles a sob into her palm.

He must be in so much pain, even if his brain isn’t working well enough to recognize it as such. As much as it hurts her, she wishes his death could be hastened, if only so he would not suffer anymore.

Through a tear-filled, blurry haze, she reaches out and gently lays a hand on his brow, leaning in close to his ear.

“It’s time,” she whispers, voice breaking and crumbling. “It’s alright. I’m right here. You can let go now.”

With a heavy heart, she watches as his breathing slows and slows and stops for good.

—

You were mine in this lifetime. I’m sorry I couldn’t return the favor.

But I swear to you, in our next lifetime, I will be yours.

—

As she boards the train, she looks down at the picture message her brother had sent earlier.

Hikaru grins up at her through the screen, cheekily holding up his bandaged, slinged arm and making a peace sign with his fingers. The text accompanying the photo reads, “I’m alive!! Now stop worrying, that’s what Kaa-san is for.”

She giggles. It probably was rude of her to rush out of the lecture hall immediately after class, considering that her friends had wanted to try out a new lunch spot just outside their university, but she can’t help it.

He might be a snot sometimes, but he’s the only little brother she’s got. It’s natural that she worries. With that picture though, he’s clearly doing alright.

Sure enough, when she steps into her brother’s hospital room, he’s wearing a smile as bright as the sun.

“Hey!” He greets her cheerfully. “I told you there was nothing to worry about. I’m all fixed up now.”

“I can see that,” Tomoe grins, sitting on the edge of the bed. She reaches over to ruffle her brother’s hair. “So no more races right? Honestly, I’m not sure how you thought you’d be able to speed past a train when all you had was a bike…”

“I saw it on TV once,” Hikaru admits sheepishly.

“Uh-huh, because everything on TV can totally be done in real life,” Tomoe deadpans.

“Well when you put it like that, yeah it sounds stupid!” Hikaru says defensively, crossing his arms.

Tomoe flicks her brother in the middle of his forehead, and he yelps in protest.

“Stop pouting,” she orders. “It’s not flattering for someone who’s going to be in high school in just a few months.”

“Ugh, you should be nicer to the sick.”

“Please. You said so yourself - that’s what Okaa-san is for.” She smirks at him, leaning back on one of her palms. Her eyes drift around the room. “Where is she, anyway?”

“Somewhere.” Hikaru shrugs. “Probably stepped out to get food or coffee or something.”

A noncommittal hum escapes her throat. Then a knock comes to the door.

“Yes?” Hikaru answers.

Tomoe somehow forgets how to breathe when she sees who walks inside. Their guest is a handsome man, perhaps early to mid-thirties, wearing a pristine white lab coat over navy blue scrubs. He has dark hair that falls over his striking forest green eyes, and the sharp lines of his jaw are almost aristocratic. His forearms look strong, as if they could…

God, help her. Tomoe looks down at the bed sheet, valiantly trying to fight the blush on her cheeks. She’s an adult, dammit.

“Hey, Shin-sensei,” Hikaru acknowledges the man. “This is my sister, Tomoe.”

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Date Shinnosuke,” the doctor introduces himself, and when their eyes meet, Tomoe swears that everything slows down for a second.

There’s something familiar about those eyes. She’s seen them before, she knows it.

But when? Where?

Before she has the chance to take a closer look, Shinnosuke turns to Hikaru and begins examining his bandaged arm. “No tingling or numbness?”

“Nope.”

“Good. Wiggle your fingers for me?”

Hikaru obeys, and Shinnosuke nods in satisfaction. He takes a pen from his pocket and puts the end of it against each of Hikaru’s fingers. Once he determines that Hikaru’s sense of touch is intact, he puts the pen away again. “How is your pain doing?”

“The pills cover it. Not 100 percent, but pretty close.”

“Good.” Shinnosuke smiles, and the sight sends a twinge through Tomoe’s chest. “I’ll come by again tomorrow. Provided nothing happens overnight, we should be able to send you home in the next day or two.”

“Great!” Hikaru grins. “Thank you.”

“That’s why I’m here,” Shinnosuke replies, and as he turns to leave, his eyes catch Tomoe’s once again. She knows she’s not imagining it when they linger on her for a second longer than strictly necessary, and she watches as he walks out the door.

“Oi,” her brother’s socked foot nudges her in the side. “Can you not drool over my doctor? That’s kind of gross.”

“Shut up!” She says hotly. “I did no such thing.”

Her brother rolls his eyes, but before he can tease her further, their mother comes bustling into the room with her favorite vending machine coffee, and conversation about the young surgeon is all but forgotten.

—

Date Shinnosuke, as it turns out, is from Sendai. He went to university straight out of secondary school and graduated with his medical degree as quickly as… well as quickly as physically possible. His internship brought him here to Tokyo and he’s been practicing ever since.

Tomoe should probably note that this is all information she learned from her mother. It’s not like she went to creep on him on social media, even though the thought did briefly cross her mind. Briefly.

She swears she’s seen him before, but from where? She can’t put her finger on it. Or maybe she really doesn’t know him, but he reminds her of someone else.

Regardless, as dumb as it sounds, the familiarity (or fake familiarity, whatever) makes her want to reach out. Food is usually the best way, she’s heard.

It takes a few tries, considering she’s not the best cook. In the end, the mochi balls are uneven and a little lumpy, but they taste fine. She likes them, anyway.

And as she stacks them into a box and spoons little piles of zunda on top of each one, she hopes Shinnosuke likes them too.

—

After all the discharge paperwork is settled, there’s some disagreement over how he’ll be taken downstairs, because Hikaru is too stubborn for his own good.

Surprise, surprise.

The nurses look a bit frazzled when he refuses the chair they offer to wheel him down in, and they look downright panicked when he insists on carrying his belongings and all the bags of food their mother had brought. The poor ladies give each other troubled looks, and Tomoe can imagine them saying ‘Do something’ ‘No you do something.’

So she sighs, elbowing her brother. “Don’t be annoying. Just let them help you.”

Hikaru swats her arm away. “Last I checked I only have one mom, and it’s not you.” But despite his grumbling, he concedes to putting his things down on the chair so they can at least wheel that down.

One of the nurses - Sakurako, if she remembers correctly - gives Tomoe a grateful smile. “Thank you.”

“I should be saying that to you,” Tomoe answers. “Thanks for dealing with my brother.”

“Not at all.” Sakurako laughs. “He’s a funny kid.”

“I’ll catch up,” Tomoe calls to her brother. Hikaru raises an eyebrow at her, but he says nothing and turns away, heading for the elevator with their mother and Sakurako’s coworker in tow.

“Oh and thanks for the cakes,” Sakurako adds. “That was very sweet of you.”

“Of course. Again, it’s the least I can do for the care you gave Hikaru.” Tomoe smiles, then her eyes drift down to the small green confectioner’s box in her hands. “Actually, I wanted to give Date-sensei a little something too. Is he busy?”

“He usually finishes up his rounds at this time. He should be charting in the conference room around the corner,” Sakurako says. Then a call light goes off, and with a quick bow to Tomoe, she rushes away to answer it.

Sure enough, when she enters the conference room, Shinnosuke is staring intently at a computer screen, clicking through and making notes.

Tomoe sets the box down on the table next to him, and Shinnosuke starts visibly, looking wide-eyed up at her.

“Oh, it’s you,” he relaxes, sitting back in his chair. “Tell your brother I said good luck. He should recover in no time.”

“I will,” Tomoe nods. She nudges the box toward him. “This is for you. Just a little token of my appreciation.”

“Ah. That’s very kind.” His eyes soften. “Thank you.”

“You can try it now, if you’d like,” she offers before her verbal filter can suggest otherwise. “I’m sure you haven’t had a chance to eat yet.”

“That’s all right, I’ll…” he trails off at the look on her face and chuckles. “Well, maybe just to try.” He pops open the lid, and his eyebrows lift in surprise.

“I’ve never actually made zunda mochi before, but I heard you were from Sendai, so…” Tomoe clasps her hands together. “They’re not the prettiest mochi, but I think they taste alright. Let me know what you think?”

Shinnosuke indulges her with a gentle smile and bites into one of the mochi pieces. As the flavors roll through, however, he stops chewing suddenly, eyes flickering with something that Tomoe can’t name.

What on earth?

She’s almost too afraid to ask. But just as she works up the courage to call his name, his eyes focus again, and they stare up at her. What she sees in them looks almost like… disbelief.

And recognition.

Her mind goes back to yesterday, when she’d first seen him. His eyes looked so, so familiar, but she’d never met him before… right?

Shinnosuke slowly stands from his chair, moving closer to her. All she can do is stay there, frozen, watching the emotions pass over his face.

“To…moe?” he asks quietly.

He stands in her space, far too close for a person she’d only just met yesterday, but this doesn’t bother her.

What does bother her is the strange sort of melancholy that settles into her bones, like she’s forgotten something - or someone - very important.

And even though she’s staring him right in the face, searching those gorgeous eyes, and smelling his cologne, fresh and clean like cypress, she simply cannot remember.

“I…” She swallows, trying to fight the sudden urge to cry. “I don’t know you, do I?”

To her surprise, Shinnosuke gives her a relieved smile. “No, you don’t. Not yet, anyway.”

Before she can process the peculiarity of his words, he fishes something out of his pocket and presses whatever it is into her hands. His smile grows, slow, dazzling, and it makes her feel lightheaded. Again he speaks, “I always wondered why I kept this with me all the time. Now I know.”

His pager sounds, effectively bringing both of them out of the moment. After sending her another meaningful look, he gives her hand one last squeeze, and then he’s gone.

Tomoe shuts her eyes against the rapid thump of her heart. When she’s managed to calm down some, then, and only then, does she look down to see what he had given her.

A square of fabric - faded and beautiful - made from ancient red silk, dashed with sparrows and bamboo reeds. 

[jaku-the-askblog]

Aku Headcanon: Powers/Origin

((so im gunna geek out a little bit here about my personal ideas of Aku’s powers/what exactly he is and how that ties into the series, ok? Ok

Prepare for the long haul on this one guys

(Small disclaimer: this isnt a scientific/psychological thing, and im pretty sure this ain’t even close to what Genndy wanted to be canon. These are my ideas, pertaining to the askblog and a certain fic universe, based on canon, of my Aku. Lets move on)

I. So what is Aku according to Abby?

Firstly, despite whatever canonically or fanon-wise in my own series’ Jack and Aku himself (and others) call him, Aku isn’t a demon/wizard/etc. We already know, pretty much canonically, that Aku is one of a kind. Which means beings like Demongo, his minions, others, aren’t even close to what Aku is.

^A babby Aku leaves his nest to fend for himself in the harsh and unforgiving wild

Unless you wanna go on the theory that Aku’s minions are also him but lets not right now

I refuse to accept that Aku is “pure evil” unless you want to get into moral debate and the theories on what constitutes “evil,” because perhaps in the perspective of that universe he is the Worst Evil Ever but comparatively to our own world and especially my own perspective he really...isn’t. Which isn’t to say he’s done downright vile and awful and evil things, because he really has! He’s just not “pure evil.” I firmly believe that it’s just what we’re being fed, because all that we know about Aku is really from the perspective of other characters (ie, Jack’s father being the one that created Aku and immediately assuming that he’s something to be destroyed). And Aku seems to run with this because, realistically, it’s all he’s ever known/tried.

(I have additional input on Aku’s birth and his “starting” personality, but I will save that for another time)

(“But the gods said—” you start.

“FUCK the gods,” I spit back, punching Odin in his remaining eye, “Theyre fuckin useless as shit anyway”)

HOWEVER, I think Aku is something more like a conscious controlling what’s essentially pure magic from that universe in physical form, with magic being like a manipulatable energy source according to that universe’s rules. I think that, much like in the Avatar (the animated series not the atrocious live action one) series, the way this magic/energy can be used varies from person to person, from being to being. And a being like Aku, who’s made up of the stuff, is going to inherently be more powerful and more versatile than anyone else that just uses magic but wasn’t born from it. AND his magic is more wild and free and flexible than the contained/inherited forms of it that other mortals have.

And from there it only gets more fun.

You see, we never really hear/see Aku mention his time spent as the Black Goop, which likely infers he either couldn’t form into something that could speak/move around or he just doesn’t remember in the way a human might. Either way means he had no control over himself. Which only feeds my theory that Aku’s just a brain constantly controlling what are really just mindless drones with power to do his bidding much like his/the entity’s former shape.

I also theorize that, if he didn’t have the same kind of consciousness, the Black Goop was absorbing anyone/thing that came into contact because that was the only thing the mindless, physical manifest of magic knew to do. It can’t think to express itself! It can’t think to grow legs and walk around!

But on the other hand, if he was...some kind of mind in there, but couldn’t form into a shape, perhaps he was latching onto living things, trying to learn about them, trying to find some form of escape. I haven’t worked out which he was in the goop form as of yet, but either works really.

I do think that’s why the gods were trying to destroy the entity, because they knew that if it started wandering around the universe in a semi-tangible form, especially with the power it originally had, wild and free, then it would cause effortless and wide-spread chaos.

And somehow Jack’s father’s fire gave him/the magic the power to form a brain, buuuut it has its limitations from Aku.

Let’s take a closer look.

II. Aku’s Essence vs Aku Infection

In episodes like the Ultrabots, the final episode, and even in the comics, we see that when Aku has his essence control/power others, he retains some level of control over the individual to do his bidding. They also sometimes gain his powers, but I think that’s also under his control.

So what’s the difference between this and the Aku Infection?

I don’t think Aku knew about Jack getting infected. And instead, Jack was the one that made himself into Aku.

This really boils down to semantics and me wanting to go completely off my rocker here, so bear with me.

^Accurate depiction of abby now

First, though it is typical of Aku, we never see him attempt this again. If you want to include the IDW comics, he doesn’t even consider it in issue 10. Instead, he uses his time in Jack’s mind to eat his memories.

HOWEVER within the episode itself, we see an interesting progression of things:

Jack steals jewels from the explorers without realizing it

Argues with himself (!!) about rescuing a stranded sightseer and the reward if he does so (which he demands for money) yet doesn’t seem to notice the fact he’s doing so

Begins to feel irritated and twitchy as well as itchy (likely as his skin changes)

STILL SOMEHOW FAILS TO NOTICE HIS BODY CHANGING

Begins to speak/look more like Aku as time goes on

(Also, a minor, tiny detail but: no beard. Hmmmmm)

NOW let’s consider something here: normally Aku controls his essence to do as he wishes. In fact, he typically immediately controls his subjects. But Aku wasn’t in good shape when we see him first in this episode, nor is his state brought up again.

What (or shall I say who) is typically on the forefront of Jack’s mind, and he associates with darkness?

Thaaat’s right! Aku!

^This is what happens when you jack off too often kids

So I think, at this point, however subconsciously, Aku’s essence/that magic latched onto what Jack associated with that start of darkness and became what he thought it would be.

It became his idea of Aku. And it simply ran with it, because that is the first and most powerful thing Jack thought of. After all, Jack has no experience in controlling magic, and especially not one as powerful as Aku’s. And that magic, now detached from the main consciousness, is basically just trying to find it’s way out in him, so it was mindlessly searching for the easiest way to be “expressed.”

By examining Jack-Aku’s behavior and wording more closely, I’d like to point out something. Right after Jack FINALLY realizes what’s happening, we have this exchange:

Jack: “This cannot be happening!”

“Aku:” “Oh yes it can!”

Jack: “Must…keep…control!”

“Aku:” “Yeah! Gotta get a grip.”

Jack: “Need help. The monks—!”

“Aku:” “I got to find those accursed monks!”

Now, does this actually sound like something Aku would say, or like someone who’s imitating Aku would say?

Hm. Let’s look at another example.

It’s close, I’ll give Jack-Aku that! But it’s a little…too close. Again, like someone’s doing an impression of Aku.

It is close to things Aku has said before, but it still feels just off to me.

Jack-Aku certainly fights a little differently, but there’s still more touches of Jack than Aku in there. Sure his swings are more brutal, but then there’s stuff like this:

^SUPERHERO LANDING

That doesn’t look like an Aku pose to me. That’s a Jack one.

Now I do realize, as I said, most of this is just semantics and most of it could be explained away with “Aku was just fucking with Jack.” But I dunno, that just seems like it’s not what’s really going on, especially since we don’t see the original Aku trying to control Jack, much like how we got a hint of that in the Ultrabots and even in Mad Jack.

Interestingly, season 5 seems to support this!

You see, I think the priestess wanted to bear Aku’s children, so that’s what his magic did for her. There was probably something in her head that thought seven was a good number, so that’s what happened for her. As for why the essence didn’t overwhelm Ashi and her sisters before, I suspect that it became combined with their DNA in order to sustain them (as the priestess wished; at least until they “lived” until she was done with them) and became dormant until Aku “reactivated” it.

And then, Ashi is initially overwhelmed by Aku’s essence, but once she takes it for her own—

^THATS MY GIRL

It becomes her own. She’s owning Aku’s powers, Aku’s essence, Aku’s magic for her own use. It becomes what she wants it to be.

Jack never did that because he never took it. He allowed himself to be overwhelmed by it, letting it do it’s own thing inside him, and it nearly transformed him into his own Grand Theft Me nightmare.

III. Aku’s Powers (and the actual powers of the sword)

Ok ok, so what does this all have to do with Aku’s powers? Well, like I mentioned earlier, Aku is made up of pure energy that can be made into (almost) anything he wants to do with it.

“So why doesn’t he just do _ to kill Jack?!?!?!”

That’s actually quite simple: Because Aku has no idea what he is either.

^Aku voice: AWHUA

He has literally no frame of reference, no concept or comparison. All he’s ever really gotten is from others, who call him “evil,” “demon,” “wizard,” etc. He knows he’s more powerful than any being in the mortal world, but he doesn’t know how or why. He simply is.

(This feeds back into that linked post from the beginning about Aku being something of a narcissist, because he makes himself into whatever others think of him in order to be “accepted.” But I have more words on that idea at a later point when I can get all these thoughts about his powers out of the way, though I firmly emphasize that I’m not even close to a major in psychology so I’m not fit to diagnose him with anything, really. This is all just for funsies)

It’s how I explain his ability to pop random powers out without notice or mention of them again, ie creating a dark clone of Jack, encasing a living man in stone while also making him immortal?, telepathically manipulating objects from afar, RAISING THE FUCKING DEAD, etc etc. He knows he has tremendous powers, but does he explore their limits? Find out what all he can do? No! And why would he, if he’s already immortal and immune to everything? He only seeks out to use these powers like that when it conveniences him.

And yea, that would be his own fault. But it’s his life, and he’ll do as he pleases.

Now, let’s get to the sword.

It’s heavily implied (if not outright stated) that the sword is made from Jack’s father’s spirit/soul. The gods insist that only the strength of such a thing, combined with the virtue of “human righteousness” can destroy Aku. This is where they say he’s a “force of ultimate evil” and all that, but I already don’t like that the gods are entrusting this “duty,” which they started but didn’t finish, onto a mortal. Mighty suspicious.

So how exactly does the sword work if Aku isn’t made of evil, but instead pure magic? Easy. The sword destroys that magic from Aku’s physical form. It’s literally cutting away his control and his power, in a harsher and far worse way than if Aku were to be using his energy on his own. And the gods basically made a soul contract with Jack’s father to give it that power without there being serious repercussions on the wielder of the weapon. Because technically destroying a magic/energy like that should totally backfire and act more like splitting an atom than a cool firey-burning effect.

^( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

So Aku and his powers are in a constant state of decay-recovery, because he’s using his own body to do all these powers and abilities, but the sword speeds up the decay process faster than Aku can recover. And yes, Aku using massive amounts of magic quickly with little or no recovery period would do a similar thing, but the sword will always take longer and threaten to do more permanent damage for that than Aku using his magic himself, because it destroys instead of frees. And since magic is energy, Aku recovers through time and reabsorption of magic from…well, anything. Typically just the energy of the universe, I suppose.

So why couldn’t/didn’t Jack’s father destroy Aku the first time?

Because he didn’t make a final strike. Instead he allowed even the smallest sliver of Aku to persist. And if you do that, then you give Aku ability to reform.

(“But what about in season five when—“ you try again.

“It was bullshit and you know it,” I say as I firmly curb-stomp that “final fight” scene.)

So why did Aku get turned into a tree and was imprisoned?

….Yeah I haven’t worked that one out yet either, I’ll give you that. I’m thinking it may have something to do with cutting away so much of Aku that his mind is locked away and stripped of its power over his body, but I haven’t worked out all the fine points yet.

Aku makes his choices to do evil things, to follow his own will (whatever his will may be) but he’s still limited by his own mind and what he believes he’s capable of, due to mainly just being too lazy/unwilling to try anything else. Yes, of course like I said outside forces only contributed to this, effectively helping him make his own box to put himself in, but it only explains why he’s like that. It doesn’t excuse him, and ultimately his choices were still his own.

PHEW well I think that’s about all for now! Hope I made sense and you enjoyed reading! I’ve been stewing on this one for a long, long while, but only recently got half a mind to coherently jot it all down and explain it, so there’s probably a few holes here and there, forgive me... :,D

Thanks necessary for:

@strawberry-smilodon, for reading my draft!! and then i kept adding more...and more... and more.....

Obv @teacupballerina, for basically doing most of the theorizing waaaaay before i even got back into this fandom and inspiring my own mind to start thinking harder about Aku and canon :3

all my friends that tolerated me geeking out about this before i wrote it all down...i love yall 😙

And thank YOU for reading!!!

[infiniteglitterfall]

are aces lgbt?

The exclusionist argument always seems to boil down to, “I don’t hear aces describing any experiences I relate to, so they’re not lgbt.” 

I think we’re going about this backwards. 

If that’s the way people want to define it, we should be listing things that are obviously examples of “lgbt” oppression,” like • being kicked out,  • getting raped by someone who wants to change your sexual orientation, not just because you said no or because misogyny, • harassed at church, work, or school, • being threatened with or sent to conversion therapy, etc., 

and then seeing if aces also experience them. 

Sorry, I put kind of a lot of examples of these in the first section. It was really hard to restrain myself because there were just SO MANY. I tried not to do 5 examples for every single one at least.... 

Step 1: what kind of oppression do lgbt+ people experience?  

• 30% more harassment, 221% more sexual assault, 100% more intimate partner violence, and 277% more stalking than straight people.

conversion therapy and rejection at church

1. “I was sent [to conversion therapy by my church] to be barraged [with] self doubt and shame until I became afraid to even look at the same gender.... The distinction is often made that [conversion therapy would] be 'against your will’ but that isn’t nearly as cut and dry as it sounds. When you are publicly shamed by your congregation (if 'accused’ in a religious setting) you may very well agree to conversion therapy as your only option. Especially if your a minor like I was. ”

2. “When a preacher found out [about my sexual orientation] he recommended conversion therapy – even before i had come out as pan or trans.... guess who was told by members of their church to go to hell when they came out...? Me!” 

3. “So, I’m a Christian. Was raised by and still live with a super conservative Christian family. Babysit for a super conservative Christian small group. Live in a super conservative Christian neighbourhood. Went to a super conservative Christian summer camp literally every summer of my life. 

“Basically I’ve met a lot of conservative Christians.... [What they tell me is people like me] are ‘unnatural’. That it’s a shame they’ll never be able to fulfill their ‘God given duty’ AKA get married and create lots of little conservative Christians. That they’re sick and should be treated so they can experience true happiness some day AKA marriage and creating lots of little conservative Christians.”

4. “I'm a victim of corrective assault, been threatened with conversion therapy, been forced to medicate to ‘fix’ my sexuality and been threatened by pastors of my church. I'm just so upset.”

5. “[My mom] believes its a mental issue and wants me to start corrective therapy Monday. Why can't she just accept me as me, why do I need ‘fixed’"

corrective rape

1. “[When we talk about corrective rape], we’re talking about the so-called friend, the ex boyfriend, who I got along with just fine after we stopped trying to date, right up until he cornered me outside of Prom. We’re talking about the guy who’d been told by someone else I considered a friend all about [me questioning my sexual orientation]. Who kept oh-so-considerately telling me that he was doing this for my sake, that after I understood how good it felt, I’d be normal.” 

2. “my ex-boyfriend... decided to trick me into drinking, manipulate me emotionally, and force me into sexual situations after I came out to him because he thought he could fix me and didn’t stop even after multiple failed attempts.”

3. “[my rope partner] decided to trick me into drinking, manipulate me emotionally, and force me into sexual situations after I came out to him because he thought he could convince me I wasn’t.”

4. “When I came out [to my mum], she starting to force me to date girls so I would have sex with them (to 'fix' me) and even took me to the doctors and my endocrinologist to get my hormones checked since she was convinced there was something really wrong with me.”

5. “He started by pressuring me assuming it was a mental health issue, he already knew I had many, he assumed if I had adequate access to counselling I would be “fixed” He blamed it on everything from my childhood to my self esteem.

“And then he decided it was because I’d never had sex. He raped me at least 6 times, I dissociated a lot of the relationship but I know there were 6 places where it happened, I don’t know how many times it happened in any given place though. He told me that I should be happy because it proved I was wanted, that eventually I’ll like it, and that he needed to make me “whole” He said that he knew that there was a straight girl underneath everything who just needed to know that it was ‘okay to be sexual.’”

getting kicked out

1. “my mom threatens to throw me out if I so much as bring it up“

2. “When I was house hopping, basically homeless as a young adult, my roommates would kick me out for not having sex with them. [Being out of the closet] got me homeless and back with my abusive mother.”

3. “I'm an 17 year old... and a junior in high school. I came out... to my family the other day and it went so horribly wrong. My own parents accused me of being some odd freak that's not human and just... kicked me out. I only have my clothes, computer and such electronics, 100 dollars and my cat. I'm living in a friend's basement. I wanted to go to college and earn a masters degree... but I have nothing. I'm so lost. I don't know what to do.”

4. “I know for a fact if my mom finds out I'll be homeless on the streets myself.”

5. “I [was] forced to have intercourse to try keeping my abuser from making me homeless... constantly [using my sexual orientation to]... threaten to kick me out 24/7.”

general familial rejection

1. “i've heard 'i was threatened with being kicked out of my house' so, so many times. also 'i was abused/hit when i came out'. most ppl just went back into the closet and lied.” 

2. “My ex boyfriend sexually assaulted me [when I came out]. People have mocked me constantly for it. My parents put me in therapy for it.“

3. “I’ve tried to come out to my parents so many times and my dad doesn’t believe me, and my mom thinks it means there’s something wrong with me!”

4. “I just recently went to a family reunion and... I confided in a cousin about [my sexual orientation] and of course he told everyone, then they all legit got angry at me [for it]. Asking me how it happened, telling me it wasn't real, it got to the point where they screamed at me then my aunt started setting me up with guys in her neighborhood.”

5. “Mi padre dice que... es una moda y que son "subnormales" les que lo son.  Me quiero ir de casa. [broken heart emoji]” (translation: “My father says that [my sexual orientation is] a fad and that people like that are ‘subnormal.’ I want to leave the house. [broken heart emoji]”)

harassment at work or school

1. “i overheard my boss discussing ways to get me to leave. somehow, and i don’t know how, he saw some of my tweets talking about [my sexual orientation]. he’s of the option that [it] is some disease, that it goes hand in hand with being devoid of emotions somehow, and that because of that i can’t possibly be a good teacher because i am incapable of empathy for the children and i am mentally ill.

“sure. he can’t fire me for that. but he sure can make my work environment so stressful, uncomfortable, and downright hostile. and he can do that so much it will make me quit. i didn’t want to let him win, but like. i was legitimately suicidal because of the environment at work and i felt like i had to quit.”

2. “I'm actually one of those... who have been denied a job simply because of my [sexuality]! last year the college I go to was looking for a counselor for the younger classes, something I've wanted to do! a week after I applied, I got an email saying that while I was qualified they saw my... posts [about sexual orientation] on my FB and didnt want to hire me because they were afraid I wouldn't be able to positively connect to others!”

3. “I'd like to chime in on the whole workplace thing. In my experience, yes, [even if you’re not out], they can tell. They'll notice that you don't have [or at least don’t talk about] a significant other. They'll notice when you don't join in certain conversations, especially ones talking about relationships and ‘hot’ people. They'll notice. And, if my experiences are any indication, they'll talk about you behind your back.”

4. “I spent half of my freshman year math class tensed up in terror, trying to ignore the boy with his hand up my shirt because he'd threatened to out me to my parents if I told a soul - and my parents would have put me in therapy....”

abuse within the mental health system

1. “i have severe depression and about a year ago i had checked myself into a mental hospital because i knew i couldn’t keep myself safe. the hospital felt like a safe space to me and at one point during conversation i came out.... one of the patients, a male much older than me, began to tell me how... he would [sexually] touch me. he was very graphic about how and where he would touch me. everyone in the room cheered and laughed. i was terrified.... two days later i attempted suicide. i was immediately sent to another mental hospital. this time involuntarily.“ 

2. “How do I quantify my experience with that therapist? Do I drop names? I’m certain he’s still billing himself as a gender specialist.... And I mean, I was extra-complicated, is it really his fault I got messed up, that CBT backfired so hard?

“Yes, actually. Yes, it’s his fault.

“Sometimes now I even call that experience abusive. Certainly gaslighting.

“There was so much ‘you overattach to labels and overthink everything’ as a Solution? But most of all, the “this again?” was the worst. The ‘we’ve covered this, you’re not X, that’s your disordered thinking again.’

“And any time I mentioned that, it was all awkward and unanticipated and sorry-you-feel-that-way(-it’s-your-brain-again)(-couldn’t-have-known).

"Then last summer I realized I was autistic, and he laughed at the mere idea, and I isolated until I ended up in the psych hospital.”

3. “When I was 19, I was in therapy trying to deal with depression and anxiety (and honestly a lot of child abuse I didn’t realize was abuse at the time).  My therapist... made a lot of homophobic statements, didn’t believe bisexuality was a thing either... INSISTED that I ‘just didn’t want to get better’.... He gave a male client my contact information, pushed me to go on a date for multiple sessions, and pressured me to have sex when I said I didn’t want to.

“I was raped.”

4. “I love not being able to talk to my psychologist about my issues [around sexuality] because if we do she'll suggest conversion therapy for me again. Feels good, feels organic” 

Step 2. compare the above to studies that include aces, and to the personal stories of aces

wait, we don’t have to. 

all of the above examples are actually by and about aces. 

and no, the study results linked at the top are not from the “group x” one about who people imagine they’d discriminate against. it’s a totally separate university study that asked about what people had actually experienced.