#But now I can't unthink it cause it's *perfect*

[edutainer2022]

It's a little two-part glimpse into Dad Jeff going away into the sky. And Scotty being not happy about it. Baby Virgil features briefly too. Jeff Tracy tells himself things that tide him over more difficult times (but are not necessarily true).

SEPARATION ANXIETY

It was unbearable. The little face of the boy in his arms was wrought with boundless grief. Bright blue eyes full of tears and fear.

"Daddy, no gooooo! No gooooo!"

Tiny hands were clutching the collar of his uniform. The boy's voice was choking on sobs and Jeff felt his heart being ripped out. He was due at the base for a pick up and relocation for training before the Moon mission. He was a breath away from calling in his resignation right then and there and never leaving his son ever again. He forced himself to exhale and hoisted the child higher, bringing their forheads together. That gave Jeff a chance to blink away tears of his own:

"It's okay, Scotty. It's okay. Daddy will be back soon. I have a very important job for you, Bluejay. Look after Mommy and Virgie, when I'm gone, okay? Can you do that for me?"

The child's sobs halted for a moment it took him to nod very earnestly. Jeff leaned in to kiss the boy's forehead and then kiss away the tears from the blotchy little face as best he could. He turned to his wife with an apologetic smile.

Lucy was hovering in the doorway all this time, ready to intervene. Dad's departure for the Moon was a matter of wide-eyed wonder and endless enthusiasm till it was actually time for Jeff to leave. Then it quickly dissolved into a Greek tragedy. Her own hands were full with the baby. Little Virgie didn't yet understand what was happening, but he developed an uncanny ability to pick up his brother's moods. So to echo Scotty's desperate pleas, the baby's tears were now inconsolable.

Scotty settled to hug Dad's neck, so Jeff beaconed his wife with Virgie to step into the embrace. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he reached to kiss the baby.

"Are you really gonna be okay?"

She smiled up at him. So beautiful.

"We'll miss you like crazy, Flyboy. But we'll be alright. We're in good hands."

She lifted a hand to rub soothing circles on Scotty's back. The baby calmed down too and looked ready for a nap. Jeff gave himself extra minutes to just hold them all together. He didn't know yet he was already holding three sons in that embrace. Baby Johnny was to arrive while he was still thousands of miles away on the Moon. But in that moment he needed to capture the perfect memory of balance and fulfillment that would tide him over a long night in space. They were going to be alright.

***

It was unthinkable. The whole situation was his worst nightmare come true. The hijacked Zero-X was obviously speeding up and overheating. He ran a quick math and the fallout would quite easily cause an extinction of life on the planet. Unacceptable - his sons lived on that planet. His mother and friends. What made matters worse was giving in to Scott's big blue pleading eyes to let him come with him in One and watch the T-drive launch. Little Allie definitely learned to step up his puppy eyes game from the best. So Jeff was now stuck with the impossible variables of his son in the blast zone and One's still untested autopilot.

"Scott, I need you to take over the controls for me!"

He was halfway out of the pilot seat, leaving One on hover. Bright blue eyes, flooded with horror, shot up at him from where Scott was adjusting the harness by the cargo doors (oh, goodness, the boy was actually prepping to board Zero-X himself!)

"Dad! You can't go down alone!"

There it was. Daddy, no gooo! Jeff had to brace himself to enter full Commander mode.

"I need you to follow Zero-X flight path, align in formation. Once I board the hull, you will bank and scout the possible fallout zone perimeter in a thousand miles radius. I need you to shoo, tow or scare away anything that will be flying or floating there, understood?"

Jeff was sorely tempted to set the milage at a farther distance (as far and as fast away as possible, just fly away, Bluejay!), but he couldn't risk Scott questioning his intent in the moment. Blue eyes were still flooded with disbelief, pleading and barely concealed tears.

"Dad, please! Let me come with you! You'll need help!"

Daddy, no goooo!

"That's an order, Thunderbird!"

When he'd come to in the Zero-X wreck, in the middle of the galactic nowhere, and for endless years to come, he'd try and soothe himself with the knowledge Scott obeyed the order and got safely away from the blast. From that point on Jeff would try to convince himself he was not worried. Scotty knew what his job was. He'd look after his brothers and Grandma. They would be alright.

[satanfemme]

Nahyoure right mushrooms are fun and great for ur mental health if ur a chronically depressed person

it's actually kinda insane (I mean neurodivergent) how good mushrooms can be for your mental health. cause I've seen all the anecdotal evidence and studies and stuff before, but idk if I really believed it until I experienced it for myself. I fully went into the experience with my only goal to be experimenting with it, seeing what it's like, and trying to have a good time; I wasn't trying to force any serious psychiatric benefits or anything.

but for the past week my executive dysfunction has literally been SO much better. it's not perfect, but it's unarguably better in a way I've never experienced before. like I keep doing the dishes. do you know what a big deal that is for me? I Can Not do dishes, this is a basic fact about my lifestyle. it's why I rely 100% on disposable bowls and utensils. when I do have dirty dishes, they will sit in the sink for 2 weeks minimum, many many months maximum, before I'm able to clean them. it's not just frustrating but a genuine health hazard to be this way. I frequently need to throw things out because sitting in the sink that long ruins them. but somehow I have done the dishes every single day since my trip last saturday.

first it took me 2-3 days to catch up on what was already in my sink, but now I'm just using dishes On Purpose, and then cleaning them right after. not just within the same day (already an impossible feat) but Right After I'm Done with them. this was unthinkable for me two weeks ago. I have no idea how permanent this effect is going to be but just this one week of increased functionality alone will have been enough for me to be forever thankful. fucking adderall didn't help me this much. anyway, yeah the general boost in mood has been great too. can't wait to trip again sometime.

[gt-jar]

8 for the story ideas

8. John & Noah: Human AU

This is something I'll definitely write some day, maybe not in the near future, but eventually I will I SWEAR!

I think this one is pretty self-explanatory, but in case it isn't.

In this story John will be a human and Noah will be a borrower. And the story takes place in the modern world. Also Noah is going to be a bit younger.

As a reminder, in "Two Worlds among the Stars" Noah is 15 and in this AU he'll be 11 oder 12.

As for the plot:

Noah, who would've guessed, doesn't have parents anymore. A surprise, I know. But unlike in "2WATS", the loss is more recent.

Noah got separated from them (don't know if Noah's dad sticked around in this one yet) while they were moving. Now on his own, Noah does what his parents told him to do in this case.

Find a safe house and wait for them there. (He's been waiting for maybe a month, when he and John meet for the first time, and while he's still hopeful, deep down he knows that the won't come back.)

The house/apartment Noah finds shelter in is, again who would've guessed, John's.

It's perfect for borrowering:

- only one human

- no kids

- no pets

- leaves the house for several hours

- goes to bed early

But like in every borrower story, the borrower gets caught eventually :)

Noah's doom is...

The sink

Noah falls in during one night and can't get out on his own and as John gets ready for work (suggestions for what John's job would be in the modern world?) he finds him still stuck there in the morning.

John, just like in "2WATS", has NO IDEA what to do and is utterly overwhelmed with the situation, cause FUCK! THERE'S A TINY CHILD INSIDE HIS SINK!

And because John doesn't wanna be late for work (and his brain is having kind of a meltdown) he has a short circuit reaction.

He puts a tea towel in the sink so Noah can climb out on his own.

After that their lifes go on relatively normal, except Noah can't wrap his head around the fact that a human let im go, and John is doing internet research (I really like the idea that John's mom read "the borrowers" to him and his sister when they were children).

Soon...ish? The next sink incident happens (don't really care if that makes sense or not)

Noah goes out to borrow during the day and falls in the sink again, except this time it's filled with water.

And Noah being a borrower can't swim :)

He manages to keep himself afloat for some time, but his strenth is fading fast and he starts to panic.

The situation gets a little worse until John finally comes home.

Noah, who's seconds away from drowning, screams ("screams" is a little exaggerated, cause there's not enough air inside his lungs to really scream) for help when he hears John enter the apartment.

One near-death experience later, John is sitting on his sofa with one sleeping borrower (wrapped in a tea towel) in his arms (Noah passed out from exhaustion).

Now the unthinkable happens:

John lets Noah go AGAIN!

Why you might ask? Well... John thinks there's no way someone as small and young as Noah is on his own. There have to be parents or some kind of adults around to take care of him. There's no way the kid managed to survive on his own for that long. Right?

Right...

John puts him on the kitchen counter and doesn't leave his bedroom until he's certain Noah woke up and left.

Meanwhile, Noah is losing his mind.

This human let him go not only one but TWO TIMES! This goes against everything he has been taught! He wants to know what this human is up to, so against his better judgement...

He activly seeks John out. He's on top of the fridge or something where John can't reach him, but he's willing revealing himself to a human.

And then they have a conversation.

Aaaaaaand the rest is a mystery :)

You'll have to wait unil I write this story for real.

Or you can ask more questions about it, that works too. It's a neat little trick to make writers reveal more of their storys. It works most of the time ;)

[cherubchoirs]

A thought for plant!mike(dk if youd decide it to happen ornot so i'll treat it as an au) gives such a great sense of hope if you think about it. Like a new era sprouting and it causing old wounds to heal slowly but surely. Obviously it needs new tending to, new ways of tending to oneself, learning how to treat oneself better, but there IS hope. There IS a way to keep going, even if it's not like it used to be.

I hope i dont sound like mad ramblings but michaels healing and becoming a living garden is just such a gentle thought of hope

i really think so too...michael is ultimately representative of god's rule, he defines himself purely in terms of god's kingdom and what he did for it. so naturally, in god's absence, he becomes a living corpse - everything he was, his whole identity, has died yet he has not, a body given so wholly over to its service passing away while michael himself is left behind. i talked about this a bit, but the archangels are meant to reflect the fallout of a fundamentalist family after a fracture, with michael as the child that took over the place of someone who "betrayed" the family (in lucifer) and so forced himself to become the perfect version of faith and loyalty. he didn't want to end up like lucifer, he didn't want any other angels, especially his siblings, to suffer in the same way, so he hollowed himself out to be nothing beyond a perfect servant. he is the prince of heaven under god's rule, and so in god's departure he shambles on, a zombie rotting away even as he becomes more desperate than he had ever been to be perfect for a now absent father. an ideal martyr, yet repellent to the cloistered halls of heaven.

but that world is falling apart as much as he is and he can now only collapse entirely to ruin...or he can adapt. he can find his place without god, something once unthinkable, revolting even, but that comes into more clarity as he grows close with v2, as his brothers continuously reach out to him, as he sees a heaven still in need of help. like gabriel, it isn't something that's easy or clean, instead revealing a staggering amount of regret, a terrible, suffocating guilt he'd forced away so he was no longer michael but just a prince. so often in it, he can't believe he actually deserves a second life, but he is stilled by the plants that cling to him, the plants that slowly stitch him back together with the help of v2 and raphael. they need him....humbling in so many ways, but they weave into him and bring him back to life. he lives through them and they through him, a symbiotic life forming out of a crumbled empire closed up in the body of its prince. he is the whole world reclaimed by nature and revived from the dead - his body the skeleton of decayed monuments now made more beautiful by the verdant life that wraps all around them. his trips to earth with v2 would be so much more then, he would see himself all around and see this is what life is, what god left to them all. he knows he is still a corpse beneath it, but he's blooming with life again, he can care for this new self and actually find his true happiness in this body. he feels through the flowers, he sees them change their colors for him, and to care for them is to care for himself once more.

[revui]

FOREVERLANDS HAS BEN SHAPIRO? he better be a villian but like a funny one

also who is transfemme puss in boots! i want her number

PFGHFD I DIDN'T KNOW WHAT THIS WAS REFERRING TO FOR A SEC

"lesbian ben shapiro" is the nickname i use often to refer to one of the villains, whose actual name is molly sims. i modeled a couple of her manners of speech after Real Man ben shapiro and she is genuinely the funniest person in the whole story. she's an atrocious human being and has Dead Wife Syndrome. she has beef with a 14 year old while working the most prestigious research job in the world. she's always wearing a fucking hat. she's a silly little girl, a grown adult woman, a miserable old man, but most importantly she is MY SCRUNKLY

she's functionally the seraph's right hand man, and she becomes a major problem when the seraph temporarily steps out of the plot and leaves her in charge, where she proceeds to cause general mayhem and commit acts of unthinkable cruelty. she winds up getting banished to earth for the crime of being bad at her job

NOW ONTO OTHER FUNNY GIRL!!!!!

her name is veerabelle poppins, and she's the kind of character people would zero in on as "the dumb one" or "the useless gay" because she's easily distracted, has a poor memory, and isn't great at controlling her magic, but 1) she reads all the time and is therefore very book-learned, 2) she's noted as being one of three people who can consistently keep up every time colum starts talking, a feat that even colum himself can't achieve all the time, and 3) she's one of two characters in the entire main cast who can fight effectively without using magic. the only other character of that nature is skyler, who has no magic and the obvious advantage of two years of assassin training. veer had no formal training with a rapier and she could still kick skyler's ass in a sword fight because she's been practicing for so long that she basically has fencing in her bones.

and also she's obsessed with cats. the top of her staff is carved into a cat, she made her own tiny cat plush, she meows at people, she wears a homemade cat ear headband... she's so perfect.

she does have a slight problem with fighting, though, and it's that she thinks she should be fighting with her magic. even though she would be more effective with her rapier, she believes that she should be using her magic because it's the way everyone else does. and she's not usually the kind of person to do something just because others are—she tends to go her own way, forge her own path, all that stuff—but magic is such a deeply ingrained aspect of life in the foreverlands, and strong magic is held in extremely high regard, so she thinks it would be a waste to neglect it. she fears disappointment more than anything, terrified of a future where she lets everyone down when they need her, so she tries to be good at the same things as everyone else in the same way as everyone else, but it doesn't work.

it's sort of a parallel to how people in real life will be told one specific way that things are meant to be done, and even when they find a way that's easier for them to understand, they'll be told that it's wrong just because it's not the same as what everyone else is doing.

[infinitethree]

Aaaay an update, fuckin' finally, it's only been Forever!

Next fic draws near. The first part of the last chapter is already done, as is the very end, which just means I need to fill in the middle in a way that suitably sets up the next fic.

In my desire to get to said next fic, I decided to cut my losses (and try to keep some of my sanity) by yeeting a section I decided didn't fit. It was what I first tried at the start of this chapter, but I decided it was too much, too fast-- Daz would rather be a BIT more cautious.

Consider it loosely canon. The parts about his past and feelings are true, the actual scene (if it happens) would happen after the end of this fic & with some tweaks.

>But, well, he needs to suck it up. He's decided to take Theo up on a previous offer to join in family dinners. It's a perfect chance to gather more information about the server from sources other than Theo and occasionally Atlas.

And, well– he’s been able to hear them up until now. Not words, but he can more or less guess the general vibe of the meals.

Chaos. Usually that chaos involves screaming and one or more fights, at least according to the death messages that pop up on his shiny, fancy new com.

Still– it's been what feels like an eternity since he really had a chance to have a meal with others.

Sometimes he eats with Theo or Atlas, but they both have lives. Atlas especially seems to be doing pretty damn well for himself– or, at least, is seriously dedicated to his craft.

Fuck only knows if that’s abnormal. It's not really like Daz spent enough time around Techno to have a good grasp on much of anything about him.

At one point, he had been so desperate to be accepted by his so-called brother that he adopted the color of his cloak. It felt wrong, but at the same time– maybe it would have been worth it. 

Maybe, if it had gotten more than a few passing words on the rare occasion he could be bothered to be around him, it would have justified what he now realizes is unthinkably offensive. Forcibly giving yourself some else’s claim is– it’s practically trying to rip open their heart and set up shop there. It’s refusing an admin’s agency so deeply and so profoundly that you deny them even the choice of liking someone or not.

But didn’t matter. Techno never noticed. 

Over the years, being so invisible got under Daz’s skin and left a festering wound. If Techno wouldn't even acknowledge him enough to reject him, then fuck it– Daz would steal his color and make it his own.

And now he can’t even stand the sight of it.

At least making his hoodies– a different pattern than what he had made for Dream, of course, but it felt more natural wearing one than not– gives him plenty to focus on. The construction is easy enough, but the painstaking embroidery gives him something to channel his restlessness into.

But that’s only really going to matter as much as he might need to pretend to be sad if one gets ruined by the anarchy at the meal.

Honestly, Daz can't deny he's curious about the other members of the family. Daedalus only in that single traumatic incident, and ditto for Achilles…but he knows there's two more.

The first is Orpheus, the nightmarish Tubbo-but-he’s-Wilbur he’d heard about a few times. Atlas’ twin, evidently, which cleared up why Atlas looked just like Daz’s ex-elder brother.

And, similarly to Wilbur, Orph likes music. He’s on some sort of server-runner thing, which sounds like a terrible idea. There’s no way he’s not causing someone, somewhere, deep and unending agony.

Daz, having had his hands full with the existing soul-rending stuff, wasn’t terribly eager to add on to it by facing down any version of Wilbur. A rat is a rat is a rat, and that particular rat would fuck with his head, what precious little sleep he’s been able to get, and probably kick him in the nuts for the hell of it.

So, the one time Theo mentioned meeting the bastard, Daz had put on the ‘this is a deeply traumatic topic but I’m too scared to say that’ act he’s gotten so good at using.

Worked like a charm. Daz has yet to get another offer to meet him.

The other brother is another Dream, the second youngest. Perseus, known for feats of cleverness and agility in a long-running sport of some kind. Given even accidental orders were shredding Daz’s soul, he wasn’t terribly keen to push the idea of seeing the recordings.

And, Theo had told him with an air of pride, a huge nerd who mostly competes to fund his expensive hobbies.

There was something about collector's editions and table top books, neither of which Daz had been curious enough about to question further.

But, well, now he gets to meet this fabled final Was-Taken brother for himself. 

Rather than sit and stew in his anxiety about the whole thing, though, he opts to arrive early and help Day.

As much as Daz doesn’t particularly like the man, he's enough of a known variable that he can be tolerated.

No matter how he ends up resolving the fundamental issue of trying to kill people in a world where there's no limit on respawning, being trusted by Day is going to help him out.

He hesitates just before stepping around the corner and in sight of the kitchen. Day doesn't stop what he’s doing, or even look over at him. “Need something?”

Daz flinches a little. “Uhm– I just…” he fidgets with his sleeves, and mumbles, “I– I feel bad, because I shouldn’t make you cook for me.”

That makes Day pause. “...I don't mind cooking, and I usually make enough for leftovers anyway.” “But I'm not your family, and I haven't earned it,” Daz protests.

Much like…pretty much every implication he makes of this nature, he has to fight down the bile that threatens to rise.

Day’s mouth forms a grim line. “You don't need to earn food.” “Good food is for good people,” he argues.

Innit oh-so-helpfully makes a retching noise in the back of his head.

There's a long, tired sigh. “That's– so incredibly fucked up, but I'm not the person who you need to unpack that with. If I had an problem with cooking for other people, I wouldn’t be feeding the dozen or so people outside of Summer Hills that regularly drop in.”

Daz frowns, brows knitting. “But they’re not bad,” he argues. “If they’re welcome, they have to be good. Otherwise they wouldn’t be welcome. And since I’m– since I’m not welcome, I– I know I’m–”

He folds his arms around his waist, eyes trained on the floor. He’s breathing like he’s fighting a panic attack, shoulders hunched and shaking.

And then Day ever so gently, giving him time to pull away, folds his wings around him.

“Whatever you were told,” he says, voice soft but sincere in a way that burns, “if it was true at all, it’s not true here. You’ve been through a lot, Daz. I don’t blame you for being scared, for thinking you’re the one to blame for everything. It’s not true. As much as it absolutely fucking sucks, sometimes other people are just…monsters.”

For a second, it makes him long for a version of reality where his family was whole, loving, and truly welcomed him.

Fuck, that almost makes him feel bad about planning to kill Day.

Daz sniffs, stuffing that guilt down with all the other things he’s repressed. “...You’re nice. You’re not as scary as I thought you’d be.”

A soft snort escapes the winged man. “Thanks.” He pulls back, leaving Daz almost wanting to cling to the pretty lie.

“If you’re willing to help, I’d appreciate some help with cooking,” Day offers. He nods a few times, letting a tiny smile peek through. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.”

[flowerscentsoul]

Not a single soul here. 14th January 2024

One, two, three. Deep breath, eyes closed. Travelling through darkness to get into the vast sphere of dreams. Four, five, six. My senses awaken, hearing intensifies, mind goes through daily passing moments, last recollections. glances of compound images. Seven, eight, nine. Past shame, deeply uncomfortable memories are appearing like spiders underneath the frames. Ten, eleven, twelve. Guilt around unfinished tasks, wrongly fragmented sentences, poorly selected words, falling deeper in the state of unknown and unaware, into the undiscovered blackness of the mind. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen. The intensity of remembering pulls me in, like a moth to a flame, my imagination vasts the horizons on how far I can re enact, its all mine. The secret of fluorescent time travel. Like a magician on my way to reaching the state of dreamland only accessible to my uniqueness desires. Sixteen, seventeen, eighteen. Digging through my most hidden memories, searching every night for the one, on my demand it re appears. The collection of the glimpses. Fragile soul, protects those scenes, smells, sounds, sensations, waves of vibrations, the colours, movements, details recalled, samples of rough and soft. Memories of those sorts mustn't be spoiled by the mouldy reality, they are holy, without sin. Our diamond keys for salvation (our hopes). Locked collection, precious without a doubt. Loosing them spilts the mind into millions of red vessels, alike supernova. Endangering them would cause atypical explosion, those parts are hidden so deep so they can't be taken away from us. World without them snatched, gone. Primitive mind completely driven to insanity. Unthinkable Madness. Twenty, twenty one, twenty two. I dream, I opened the well preserved jar of the sweetest memories, my life's aim is the gathering of the most meaningful moments, untouchable valuables. And when my eyes are shut, when it's nothing but quiet and darkness takes over and all my senses are off the limits, i'm in a place sacred.

Tonight I'll take you there.

In the deepest state of bliss, state of rest and peace I see (You).

You appear to me, gently. It often happens discovery alike. & like a puzzle I have to gather few pieces first, there's your shadow, it calls me, charms me, tames me, and I'm so willing to follow, the shadow of your frame, your scent, your briefness, the maybe, the please... The please let it be you. Let me discover you tonight, Lord be so willing let my memory bring her back to me once again. And the shadow transitions to humane form, so effortlessly in a blink of an eye. I often gather strength to reach out, experiencing complete curiosity. Leaving my sanity behind and entering some other realm. And it began, your features, the mental quality is in the process of creation, your brown hair, the gloss, dance of your waves how they carry your beauty and softness. Your shoulders, hands (missing them feels like punishment) your wide hips and slim waist, the perfect proportions, your short legs, your tiny feet. So often i would look into their direction and wondered if your feet would always carry you to me. And every time they did I honourable considered them the most loyal part of you. And like a love spell I fall, just to meet your eyes again.

Just like that, you can't disappear now, your eyes, brown and dark like a rum, meets mine. And they take me with you, and I follow with the purest conviction that your sight pumps the air into my lungs.

Before I awaken to the blurry, pigment less, unclear reality. I fight for the last moments of your orchid aura. And in the snap of a finger I'm falling back to the Green world where your sight have no existence, the love perish and i'm left with the sensation, known to a man as grief, alone with the leftovers of you.

“All rights reserved” The belonging of M.K.

[feminaferitas]

Jackie wants to be happy, overjoyed even, at seeing Shauna here after all these years, she really does. (Frowns cause wrinkles anyhow.) But there's an entire other mix of feelings swirling around and threatening to bubble over. Feelings that the wilderness brought out in her and that she's been trying to swallow down for the better part of twenty-five years. Confusion, hurt, fear, betrayal. This is Shauna freaking Shipman here. There was a time in their lives it would be unthinkable that they should feel this awkward, this distant.

Then again, maybe that's all in Jackie's head. Shauna seems to be doing just fine. She's not the one who is stuck living in an echo of her high school glory, after all. Of course, the version of Shauna that Jackie knows best is still a surly 18 year old who can't dress for parties and has shit taste in liquor. Never the girl who had to butcher bodies in the snow while they all starved.

"Mrs. Shipman to the rescue again," she says, trying to force that easy, breezy charm to the surface again, straightening up. Jackie flexes her stinging fingers, hoping to bring some normal sensation back. "I... I know it's been a while, but Jeff and I were very sorry to hear she had passed. I don't know if you got the card we sent -- I never know if I've got your address right, with the reunion invites and all."

Don't make it pathetic, don't tell her how many letters she's probably put straight into the trash. She knows, Sadecki, she already knows.

Jackie raises her eyebrows at Shauna's demand, the ghost of a snarky retort creeping over her lips but dying on her tongue. "Alright. Fine," she says, unlocking her smartphone and handing it over, but not before catching sight of the time on the screen. "Oh, crap. I promised Junie I'd get her math homework to the school office before Ms. Tumpak marks her down a letter grade. Those teachers are so relentless these days."

It's idle chatter, stilted and perhaps opening an avenue of Memory Lane she'd really rather not walk with Shauna right here, right now. She tries not to bounce her leg anxiously or give any sense of impatience. There's a sense of wanting to be free of this -- the reality of her crunched car, her teenage daughter's growing contempt for her, and the presence of her former best friend are almost too much for perfect Jackie Taylor-Sadecki's perfect little suburban life. But she doesn't want this to be over, for this to be the last she sees of Shauna 'til the 50th reunion, if they were that lucky. So she blurts out an invitation without thinking, without having to lovingly ink the words that could be quietly ignored.

"We're having a family pizza night tomorrow, if you don't have dinner plans already."

She's prickly and defensive, and it immediately sends Shauna's walls up. Twenty-five years has given her enough time to practice every possible technique necessary to keep Jackie at bay. Usually, it's just memories, the occasional dream or nightmare, a reunion invitation every five years. But now that she's standing right in front of her, it feels like all those coping mechanisms she had built up so painstakingly over the years were slipping through her fingers.

Shauna opens her mouth to make a snappy retort back when Jackie slumps slightly. She's surprised at what the other woman admits. She can imagine Mrs. Taylor rolling over in her grave about it, whether or not the bitch was dead.

"Actually, I think my mom's old guy still has a shop, or his kid runs it." It's a shot in the dark, but she feels marginally bad. It's not like Jackie planned for any of this to happen, and she can imagine that the economic prospects of a furniture store in 2021 probably aren't record-breaking margins.

Less than 48 hours back in town, and Shauna has already landed herself in a comedy of epic proportions. Yet oddly, she also can't help but feel like this was always the way they were meant to reconnect. Time has dulled the edges of their shared trauma, not enough to erase it, but at least Shauna can mostly recognize that they were fucking teenagers at the time. "Give me your phone, I'll put the number in," she says, holding her hand out expectantly.

[gazihsah]

Voice Claim | G’azih Sah

Sooo, the voice of Gaz would be Ben Diskin voicing Mutsunokami Yoshiyuki, from the English dub for Katsugeki/Touken Ranbu. 

But since there aren’t any clips online with Diskin’s portrayal of Mutsunokami, here’s another, well-known (actually available online) role that he did; Haida, from Aggretsuko, seen here.

The key difference between Diskin’s portrayal of Mutsunokami, compared to Haida, is that his voice for Mutsunokami is more excitable, although that miiight be due to difference in character traits, but I digress.

Tagged by: @eastern-skies

Tagging: hahahaha....ha...ha...............ha........ha.

[princeescaluswords]

It can be argued that it had it's problems, but I loved season 3a. Jennifer is one of my favorite villains and overall characters. Her backstory, her motivations, her choices and actions. One thing I've kinda returned to is her interesting choice in words regarding her sacrificial murders. She says the victims "lended" their power, which we know isn't true. Is it her trying to intentionally make her cruel actions more palpable or does she truly believe these people offered themselves up in a way. And what her thoughts must've been when she reached the Nemeton and sensed a spark of power inside it. She must have known like Deaton that it was a place that hadn't had power in a long time.

Scott: You see this symbol? It's a symbol of revenge. You talk about balance, about saving people. We know what you really want. And now you know where to find us.

I would argue that there's no such thing as perfect media, and while we should never shy away from confronting the flaws in the media we consume, it's missing the point to dwell exclusively on them. We wouldn't love the show so much if it was all bad. So, while there are many things to scorn in Season 3A -- the endless pity party for Killer Derek because he was a sad white man; the way Peter got to swan about as if his serial murders were old news; Cora's egregious misuse; Boyd being murdered in order to pave the way for Derek's redemption when no one was holding him responsible in the first place; the fact that Melissa McCall wasn't given a speech in the root cellar nor a reunion scene with her own son -- there is a lot to praise, and one of the biggest is the way the story of Julia Baccari/Jennifer Blake totally demolishes counter-arguments to Teen Wolf's themes that "revenge is not the same as accountability" and "pain caused by others doesn't give a person the right to inflict pain on other people."

One of the major criticisms of Scott McCall and his role as heroic protagonist is that "he won't get his hands dirty" or "he won't do what's necessary." I would argue, and I have elsewhere, that Scott absolutely did get his hands dirty, he just never crossed the line into deliberately hurting innocent people in order to accomplish his goals. While Peter nattered on about "only responsible ones" and Derek shouted "I can't let her live!" and Deucalion threatened to kill any living thing that got in his way, Jennifer argued that the only way to stop the Alpha Pack and its "piles of bodies" is to kill even more innocent people.

Isn't that what "doing what's necessary" means? It wasn't Derek who stopped the Alpha Pack by his pointless willingness to fight battles he couldn't win. It wasn't Peter's ruthless scheming which mainly consisted on skipping out on battles and scavenging power when he could. Scott didn't stop them either, no matter what Garrett said. It was Jennifer and the power she harvested by murdering innocents. She's the one who killed Kali. She's the one who broke the twins. She would have beat Deucalion's head to a bloody pulp if Derek hadn't interfered.

Isn't this what they say they want? Isn't this Left Hand Bullshit? Doing the unthinkable to protect what's important?

But for all of her protestations that she was doing it for "everyone they'll ever hurt again," she never managed to trust people enough to even consider alternatives. She had an emotional connection to Derek through his sacrifice of Paige. She was in synch with the Nemeton. She obviously had inner knowledge of the workings of the Alpha Pack. If she was solely interested in stopping them, wouldn't it have made more sense to work with Derek?

A possible counter is that to get the power she needed, she had to kill people! And? That didn't seem to be a deal breaker for Derek or Peter, considering their behavior during that season, i.e. "Maybe it would be best to just kill them" or "You can always make more werewolves." And if she could mesmerize Derek as people like to claim, couldn't she use that ability to get him to accept her "necessary evil?"

In other words, while Jennifer had told her self she was doing it for the greater good, as Scott divined, it was ultimately about revenge. She justified -- even to herself -- the murder of innocent people as an act only she had the courage to do, ignoring that this means she had the courage to try another way. In the end, her actions weren't about the stopping the Alpha Pack or even punishing them, it was about her punishing them. "That's right, Kali, look at my face." That's what Derek figured out and how he was able to trick her. If all she did was for the purpose of stopping Deucalion, she wouldn't care about him seeing what his actions had done to her.

And that's the point. Jennifer wasn't a monster. She was extraordinarily sympathetic and I feel she had real feelings for Derek. No one can deny that Jennifer was cruelly used and savagely injured, but in the end, no one can also deny that her pain didn't justify her hurting others, since there was another way. And that's where Scott's optimism makes him the True Alpha, because he doesn't allow the pain of what was done to him confuse issues of right and wrong. It's why he didn't simply switch out Gerard's medication for cyanide or some other lethal poison, because the mountain ash would never have come into play if he could have figured out another way to stop Gerard from making Derek bite hm.

That's how a villain helps develop the heroic protagonist's journey.

[ialwaysknewyouwerepunk]

perfect now - a close reading

only pure and true love for this one. it’s soft and sweet because the one he wrote it for is and needs cheesy uncool romcom soundtrack-worthy affirmations and it’s the most wonderful thing oh my the flurries 

some album booklet art for your viewing pleasure

((just a warning for below: while the lyric analysis was kept fairly neutral and close to the words and their meaning, more and more parallels did ensure me larrying out by the time the analysis kicked off so if you’re not into that, you can skip this one!))

⟼ check out @bluewinnerangel​ ‘s magnificent post with all the parallels to 1d/h&l bc it’s exhaustive and was a source for mine <3 thank you again for your service <3 bc this song really is a fanpiece of every song that has been important to them throughout their career so far, whether they wrote it or not, and it’s honestly kinda impressive

SUMMARY

you’re sad and i love you so much i will do anything to make that undone but while you’re sad know that i sill very much love you and you’re also strong enough to conquer all of this on your own but i’ll be by your side anyway

lyric breakdown ft. the many parallels, incl. little things, through the dark and wmyb

what this says about louis, his partner and the relationship he is in

never gonna dance again frenzy

identity 

louis is a marvellous majestic sonofabitch basically <3

walls, track 10

～ little things “you still have to squeeze into your jeans, but you’re perfect to me”

You don’t feel pretty and it’s hard to miss

You don’t feel pretty and it’s hard to miss

later lyric: “like a neon sign” - i see through you trying to hide away your insecurities

I wish that you could see my point of view As someone staring back at you

“you” is also staring at him, but perhaps is too insecure to realise how mutual the adoration is

i wish i could get you out of your own negative spiral and give you a look at yourself from my perspective

～ wmyb “everyone else in the room can see it, everyone else but you” 

～ wmyb “right now i’m looking at you and i can’t believe you don’t know you’re beautiful”

～ little things “you never love yourself half as much as I love you, and you’ll never treat yourself right darling but I want you to. If I let you know, I’m here for you, maybe you’ll love yourself like I love you”

On Friday night when we’re all out I turn to you and you’re looking down And you don’t wanna dance I know you love to dance You never stop given half the chance

heavy echoes of kmm again, but the opposite: the “nightmare on the dance floor” doesn’t want to dance

when “you” is confident rlly not being subtle with who i think that is, they love to dance <-> tpwk “feeling good in my skin, i just keep on dancing”

“i know you love to dance” = i know what you love bc i love you

“given half the chance” 

～ tpwk “giving/given second chances”

given a chance tattoo, making another appearance (see below for more tattoo meltdowns)

Just keep your head up, love, keep your head up

term of endearment <3 

～ dlibyh

this album is full of encouragement to keep going and as much as it gives me life it ruins me 

Don’t hide away, don’t ever change

“be happy, proud”

～ “just hold on”

“pick someone who’s supportive”

Keep your head up, love, keep your head up Don’t look away, don’t look away

don’t look away from me

～ through the dark “and I can see your head is held in shame”

Cause everybody’s looking at you now, my, oh my

they have the stage to themselves / new career paths they’re doing on their own

could also mean ppl they’re going out with are looking at them, which “you” interprets as sth negative, which makes them self-conscious, while they’re actually admiring them bc they steal the scene

～ wmyb “you’re turning heads when you walk through the door”

I guess some queens don’t need a crown And I know why Even when your tears are falling down Still, somehow, you’re perfect now

“you” is royalty to louis, to put it simply 

they don’t need something on their head to make it known to everyone else - they’re a queen and everyone knows it

gendered: female - also used in drag contexts - the only time L has used any gendered word to identify his partner on the entire album (more on this below)

～ steal my girl "she's been my queen since we were sixteen" can't believe i forgot this one thank you @mortalenemiestolovers for reminding me!!!

～ falling

～ through the dark “you tell me that your tears are here to stay”

You never do, but if you asked me to I’ll tell the truth lying next to you

“you” never asks for affirmations directly, but by saying shit like their pants are too tight make it clear enough to L that they do need to hear once in a while that it’s not true

Cause you’re the only one when it’s said and done You make me feel like being someone 

Good to you even at your worst

～ always you

i love you so much you are a force of life to me, and even when you hate me i want more

～ drag me down “If I didn’t have you there would be nothing left, the shell of a man who could never be his best. If I didn’t have you, I’d never see the sun. You taught me how to be someone” (sung by louis first, harry second) 

～ through the dark “even if you scream and shout, it’ll come back to you and I’ll be here for you

You steal the scene and it’s unrehearsed

reference to working on a stage - their natural presence wins everyone over - that charisma is never manufactured

Don’t you wanna dance? Just a little dance I’ll never stop given half the chance

L keeps encouraging them, will also not pass by any chance to dance with them

Every insecurity, like a neon sign, as bright as day If you knew what you were to me You would never try to hide away

“it’s hard to miss”

L sees through them trying to hide their insecurities, pretend to be strong

～ through the dark “but I know you were only hiding”

SYNTHESIS

Perfect Now is not a fan favorite and I am so not here for that discourse, so please do not pester me with negativity about this chocolate drop of a song. 

As others have pointed out, the parallels with other songs written by Louis, Harry or for One Direction are extremely present. Especially Little Things is echoed loudly, but there’s so much more to be read, as you’ve seen. These are songs that are clearly near and dear to Louis, bc he wrote them or bc performing them was special, like with Little Things and What Makes You Beautiful. A lot of the same emotions come back in Louis’s writing, so much so that you can’t help but see the larger story behind it all. Throughout Walls you can hear him singing about not giving up and holding your head high despite hardships, and if you look back at his earlier writing, it’s always been there. Through the Dark is an early and striking example of this style of Louis song: you’re sad and i love you so much i will do anything to make that undone but while you’re sad know that i sill very much love you and you’re also strong enough to conquer all of this on your own but i’ll be by your side anyway 

basically through the dark’s chorus:

Oh, I will carry you over Fire and water for your love And I will hold you closer Hope your heart is strong enough When the night is coming down on you We will find a way Through the dark

It is very clear that Louis is faced with a partner - I can freely say it’s Harry now right? are the antis gone by now? i think so - that struggles with his body, with his identity, with how he wants to present himself vs how opinions on that might push him down and dampen his spirit. Louis, always the supportive boyfriend, then tries his best to make him see the light, while keeping that space for his sadness, his struggles, or their joint struggles. Accept the sadness but don’t lose your heart to it.

I’ve linked @bluewinnerangel​ ‘s post at the start of this post, but I need to stress how good it is once more as I also shamelessly insert a screenshot from it here bc it makes me feel a lot and summarizes perfectly just how deeply Perfect Now is woven into the history of their lives, relationship and especially “you”s/Harry’s personal struggle with their identity/body/confidence...

Because yes, i absolutely think these tattoos are being echoed in the song. “Never gonna dance again” as a lyric and then as a tattoo on Harry’s legs like shackles around his ankles represents the sensation of shame, of being stuck, bc of your desires, bc of your sexuality. Obviously we can never know why Harry got the tattoo, as in what experience pushed him to choose those lyrics or what exactly he recognizes in himself, but it’s safe to say it’s about the struggles of being queer and navigating relationships with that identity and with others.

Most importantly, the sense of shamelessly dancing, dancing like no one’s watching, dancing together with your lover, as a celebration of self, life, love, is the key here. Harry got that tattoo ages ago, at a time when he undoubtedly felt way more stuck. When he couldn’t dance freely the way he wanted to and with whom he wanted to. Perfect Now is a reminder to him, an encouragement to still dance if he wants to, no matter what people say or think. Significantly, then, Harry’s own Treat People With Kindness heavily features that same sentiment, but in an extremely positive light: i have found a place (in life and in myself) where i feel like i have given and was given second chances and now i dance bc i finally feel good in my skin.

Louis has obviously been there from the start, or at least from when or before Harry properly started experimenting with/questioning how he likes to present and how he identifies as. Before he ever dared to consider pulling on a pair of women’s skinny jeans, never mind a ball gown. Louis has seen him limit himself as well as being limited by others ofc and has always seemed to have been there, with a secure hand on Harry’s back, to encourage him. Even at a time when boys wearing nail polish or skirts was unthinkable. Just remember how much encouragement Harry needed when growing out his hair; Louis literally joined him. yes this might make me cry okay i need to stop bc i’m going off track and this is just becoming a larry breakdown while i was trying to hype up this beautiful song. 

What I’m trying to say is: Louis has always seen all of Harry. He’s always had his back, no matter what. He’s loved every part of him. And now, on a completely gender neutral album, in the sweetest, softest song off of the entire thing, Louis puts in the word “queen”, and that is so very deliberate it makes me want to scream. It’s Louis confirming his love again and again while affirming the multitudes contained by Harry, including everything involving his gender journey. brb crying

It’s a raw Louis, an honest, sweet, kind, loving partner, and both of them are fucking lucky to have each other, and I also wish that all of us end up in a caring and wholesome relationship like that. I truly do.

[ultranos]

To what degree do you think fandom wrongfully ascribes traits Azula possesses to Zuko and vice-versa? Why do you think the fandom does that? Sometimes it seems we have a fanon Zuko who has all of the Fire siblings' positive traits and none of their negative traits along with a fanon Azula who has all of the Fire siblings' negative traits and none of their positive traits.

Short answer: woobification, probably.

Longer answer:

I think it's a very high degree, unfortunately. We have the work ethic thing, but Zuko is the one who has trouble accepting failure. He'll throw himself at the problem over and over without changing strategy or blaming other people for it (part of Zuko's arc is accepting failure and learning from it). Azula, in contrast, fails once then immediately changes gears to a different strategy. If Plan A doesn't work, then try Plan B. She gets in trouble when she hits Plan Z and has no idea what the hell to do. (Because asking for help is unthinkable for her, but Zuko conversely would have figured that out much earlier in the alphabet.)

And then there's the things like how Zuko is, initially, very much a Fire supremacist and distains other benders. While Azula surrounds herself with non-benders and an entire army of talented earthbenders. Zuko, to his credit, figures it out, but while Azula might be a nationalist and drinking the imperialism juice, she's never actually shown to be bigoted like a lot of her countrymen.

The actual bits of cruelty to prisoners we see or reckless disregard for collateral damage? That's on Zuko, especially s1 Zuko, who tries to emotionally manipulate/antagonize a captive Katara by threatening to burn one of the only surviving pieces of her cultural heritage if she doesn't turn over her friend. (Considering the real-world fight Indigenous people have to keep going through to get their own history out of the hands of private collections, this is an extremely inexcusable, cruel, and shitty thing for Zuko to do.) It's actually kind of important where in a world where prisoner mistreatment is normalized (the EK soldiers don't hesitate over morality when they decide to try to crush Iroh's hands, so I can't imagine they were afraid of consequences), the prisoners Azula took are healthy, whole and hale physically.

I'd probably even say that fandom overall weirdly forgets that Zuko is the more socially well-adjusted one. Azula's a human disaster outside of any context other than court or the military, both of which are rigidly structured institutions with clear lines of communication protocol. She's good there because there are literally rules for this sort of thing. Put her in a situation without anything like that, and she's clueless. Zuko's the one that actually has a positive Charisma-modifier.

As for why fandom does this...I think there's the usual amplification of good traits for a fan-favorite (male) character, but there's probably a degree of "this characterization showed up in a fanfic back in the day that got extremely popular, and now everyone forgets that it's not canon". (I don't actually know what fic this would even be, if this is true, just that the fandom is old enough for this sort of thing to happen) But I also think there's a weird binary at play, that there are heroes and there are villains, and heroes cannot have any "bad" traits and villains cannot have any "good". So to make things fit in this kind of worldview, one pretty much has to rewrite parts mentally to fit.

Which leads us to the perfect encapsulation of this phenomenon, as @raksha-the-demon pointed out to me: the infamous turtleduck pond scene. That scene is used to demonize Azula all the time, about how she throws rocks/bread at turtleducks, how she must hate/hurt animals, etc.

And Azula is never actually ever in the scene. We never see Azula throw anything at turtleducks. And yet a scene where she isn't even present, where her brother clearly is the one who causes harm, is one of the ones most often used to paint her as irredeemable.

[yarrowleef]

so i don't have a problem with ashfur becoming a major villain, i did want him to be addressed beyond his final "he's fine now he just loved too much uwu" bs, and while everything surrounding the explanation was unbelievably ridiculous, it's warrior cats and i don't care anymore

but i do think something i, and maybe others too, am kind of mourning is the loss of a potentially real good lawful evil villain. You know, what Ashfur was pretending to be, someone who was such an extreme zealot boasting "god is punishing us for your sin so clearly we must double down" type rhetoric, using starclan as a shield so they’re harder to argue with. Someone who is undeniably out of touch and evil but is so filled with self-righteous conviction that they are doing the right thing for their ancestors sake and it’s their destiny to make sure everyone sees that, etc etc

 I saw a lot of fanart skewed in this direction when only the first two books were out and we were still guessing the imposters identity, clearly people were hyped for the idea. I was really excited for a villain like that too, i think they're fun and also potentially v scary, not to mention a sorely needed wake up call for the clans! 

but Ashfur wasn't actually that at all. He didn’t believe a word of it, he was just lying and his ultimate goal was to cause chaos, same as Darktail before him

and like...the series "the broken code" which presented itself as being about highlighting how the idea of rules has become more important then why they have them in the first place, and how their society’s law and over-dependence on starclan is flawed....that is the perfect stage for the kind of villain who whole-heartedly believes their awful actions are righteous--the moral being “this is the sort of attitude our society risks breeding when we are uncritical and unthinking code-obsessed weirdos”

but they used up this stage on another disingenuous chaotic villain, and...there's never really going to be another setting quite as perfect for the lawful evil freak that forces the protags to deconstruct the issues with the clans code obsession, they can't just do that same plot again later (i mean. i suppose they could but it won’t have the same punch the second time i dont think) Ashfur didn't really do it, bc in the end everyone's main argument at him is that he didn’t care about or follow the great and glorious warrior code, and that's why he's evil cause no one who really cared for the code could be evil uwu

like i said, i don't mind ashfur as a main villain, but given his goal (”i want to destroy the clans, make them all pay”--yeah you and half the dark forest bud) was pretty self centered and simple, i feel like he could have been used as the villain in any plot, and didn't necessarily need to be given this one when he didn't care much one way or another about the code when he was alive.

idk, tl;dr just can't help wishing the code-breaker tyrant was a cat who had some real conviction behind their words, ‘cause now i think it’s unlikely we'll get a chance at that sort of main villain again

[kaysayshey]

off paper || e. kirishima

This is a work inspired by a struggle that a lot of those suffering with mental illness experience, particularly those with depression and bipolar disorder; however, it can be applied to a lot of mood-altering medications that cause sexual dysfunction. While medication is a life changing and stabilizing aspect of many lives, it doesn't come without its cons. I think Kirishima would be incredibly understanding in this situation. Please keep in mind that bipolar disorder presents in many ways. There is no one-size-fits-all in mental health treatment or in its subsequent treatment. I wanted to write a bit about the side effects of SSRI medications.

Songs that I listened to while writing include:

Serendipity by BTS' Jimin

Bumper Cars by Alex and Sierra

That Kind of Love by MAX

Warnings: Angst, Fluff, NSFW (no smut, however this work contains sexual topics), mention of prescription drugs, bipolar disorder, minors DNI.

On paper, Kirishima Eijirou was perfect. An impressive sidekick working underneath Fatgum, his cheery disposition more than capable of reassuring even the most terrified of civilians. A hard-hitting, defensive quirk paired with determination unlike anything you'd ever seen. Easy-going enough to work with the difficult heroes - and by difficult, everyone meant Dynamight. Intelligent, reliable, and just the right amount of competitive.

Off paper, he was even better. Hell, the moment he'd asked you out, you'd almost done a double-take. Was he sure? Kirishima could date, well, anyone. However, you'd blurted out 'yes' before your brain had time to catch up, even more surprised at the gorgeous pink that graced the tips of his ears.

And the date went wonderfully. Were you expecting anything different? He was a magnet, and you were willing to be the refrigerator he stuck to - at least, for as long as he wanted. How he managed to remember what flavor of milk tea and boba you preferred, following it up with a quick delivery while working twelves at the agency, was beyond you. Good morning texts wishing you an easy day of your own hero work, good night texts hoping that your dreams were "sweeter than you." The moment a bouquet of roses was sent to your office, you had to admit it.

You were embarrassingly attracted to Kirishima Eijirou.

Not that he minded, no. If anything, he returned the feeling tenfold. After the first date came a string of others before finally labeling it as a relationship. Movie nights, walks through the park, chaste kisses interspersed by giggles as you both laughed at whatever came to mind. The quick meetings between your lips turned into full-on sessions that left your knees weak. Being with Kirishima was easy in a way that nothing else had been.

But let's face it. Working as a full-time hero with bipolar disorder made life, well, tough. A pharmaceutical cocktail and therapy helped, turning what was the disaster of your life into a manageable mess. Episodes were few and far between, the prickling anxiety was quelled by coping techniques and medication when necessary. The days spent in a daze of your own "self-medicating" were long gone, thank whatever higher power was out there. No, life was on the upswing for you in pretty much every aspect of the phrase.

Except for your sex life.

And no, that wasn't to say that Kirishima was doing anything wrong. To be quite honest, he was doing every just right. Kissing the places you loved most, calloused hands lingering deliciously over your skin. A voice like honey whispering in your ear, beautiful moans of how gorgeous you were, how he absolutely adored you. Saying that it left you with weak, knocking knees was an understatement. He was an emotional hurricane, sending butterflies through your stomach as he showered you with praise and carefully placed lips.

Other than a complete lack of climaxing, it was amazing.

You knew this was a possibility once you had started taking medications. A loss of libido was one thing, but being unable to finish was starting to wear on you. Before you could stop yourself, you were doing the unthinkable: faking orgasms.

After all, who wants to spend close to an hour between someone's thighs just to be met with frustrated sighs and potentially awkward conversations? No, Kirishima didn't need to spend so much time on your pleasure, not when there was a high probability that you wouldn't finish at all. As long as the moans weren't straight out of a low-budget porno overly exaggerated, you figured you'd get away with it.

Getting away with it turned out to be the least of your issues. The struggle was real. Outside of the sweetest lovemaking with Kirishima, you desperately tried every trick in the book to reach an orgasm on your own. Something. Anything. You were beginning to feel pent-up, needy. The money spent on toys was starting to reach an uncomfortably high number. Time was wasted and followed up by flopping onto the bed in frustration. No amount of lube, porn, or fantasy was helping. Once you hit the hour mark, you basically gave up.

And you were now pacing the hallways of your apartment, irrational tears pricking at the corner of your eyes. Why did it matter? Orgasming was not the end all, be all of life. But the memory of before the medications, the euphoric bliss that would force your back from the mattress, that memory reared its head more often than you cared to admit. God damn it, you just wanted to feel the shudders, the rush of pleasure surging through your body, insatiable heat quenched. And you wanted to stop lying to him. The tears rimming your lash line made their arrival known, long tracks staining your cheeks.

This is, of course, when Kirishima decides to knock on your door. After all, you had planned to have a comfortable night in, a delightful line up of rom-coms at your disposal. Movies that you now wanted to throw out the nearest window. Why, why did you have to try again? He deserved so much more than a broken partner, a partner who would never be able to match him. Someone who could crash at the slightest struggle, who broke when their insecurities were brought to life.

Another set of knocks. Time to face the music.

As you gently opened the door, the drop in Kirishima's face was visible as he took in your state. Where a bright grin had been settled now featured lips drawn into a tight, worried line. After all, you did everything in your power to keep him in the dark in regards to your mental illness. Not necessarily your smartest move, in retrospect. Hindsight, you know?

The moment the door clicked behind him, Kirishima was gathering you in his arms, a large hand gently stroking the back of your head. A kiss to your temple, his forehead pressing against your hairline. Deep breaths weren't helping you at this point. Because regardless of how frustrated you were, Kirishima was safety, the warmth of his embrace a haven for you to let out the sobs that were wracking through your body.

And as the tears fell, darkening his gray tee shirt, Kirishima ran his hands up and down your back, the comforting heat of his body providing temporary relief. After moments of crying, you pressed your head against his chest, eyes glued to the linoleum floor beneath you.

A thick finger and thumb tenderly met your chin, slowly lifting your face to meet his eyes. Those usually warm red irises were dark with worry, the pad of his thumb running circles over and over against your skin. Another reminder of just how good he was. No man had ever made you feel as desired or important as Kirishima.

"Baby, what happened?" he murmured, still caressing your face so gingerly that it brought the threat of more tears.

"It's nothing, nothing important," came your quick response, avoiding any lingering eye contact. It wasn't that important. Sexual gratification came second to emotional connection, and you had that firmly in your grasp with Eijirou. Why would you risk losing someone like that?

His eyebrow narrowed at your words, and he kept your face cradled in his hands. "Please tell me, baby. I want to help."

God, that expression of pure concern. Like you were everything to him, like your hurt was his hurt. It was in that moment you knew: you couldn't keep lying to him. Whether it meant he'd leave for someone else, someone perfectly, indescribably normal; that didn't matter. If anyone deserved a picture-perfect romance, it was Kirishima.

Eijirou, I-" Your voice broke from the nerves, unable to hold his unflinching gaze. How could someone be so earnest? He nodded, those same reassuring circles urging you to speak.

"I think you deserve someone better."

He looked like you'd honest to goodness slapped him. So many emotions flashed over his usually cheerful face that it scared you. Oh, god, this wasn't what you wanted to do, but how could you not? No one wanted someone like you. Once he knew, he'd leave. Better to push him away first and just let it end now before-

"What are you talking about? Baby. I don't want anyone else. I want you." His words came out stammered, tripping over his tongue and falling into the otherwise quiet apartment. Kirishima shook his head slowly, searching your face for some form of reassurance that this wasn't what you wanted. That you didn't want him.

"I don't know why. I just, I'm too much. You'll end up getting frustrated with me and I just, I just can't take that kind of heartbreak."

"Too much? You're never too much, what are you talking about?"

The words fell before you could stop them, faster than should be discernible to the human ear. But if there was anything Eijirou was, it was attentive.

"My medicine is driving me crazy, and I know without it I'll go over the edge again. But I want to feel normal, Eiji. I can't handle feeling like I'm not normal." And it was true. Sex was so innately human, and knowing that there was a chance that you'd never be able to gain that ultimate satisfaction was driving you mad. Was this just an overreaction from a brain exhausted from constantly fighting itself, or was this a logical, albeit emotionally charged, reaction?

"Your medicine?"

There it was. What you wanted to avoid mentioning. Sure, it wasn't fair to keep it from him. But let's be honest, you'd been expecting this to end after the first few months. And now? Now you were shaking in his arms, knowing this confession would be the end of the dreamy love you'd been experiencing.

"My medicine for uh... for my, um. I have bipolar disorder. It's why I can't work on Thursdays, too. I have to go to therapy. I know I should've told you from the beginning but I just, you know, I really, really like you, and I don't-"

One finger met your lips followed by soothing shushes from his own. As if the world's weight had been lifted from his capable shoulders, Kirishima let out a heaving sigh of relief. The arm around your waist pulled you closer, his large hand splaying comfortably against your back.

"I'm not going anywhere. I just want you to be okay. What can I do for you?"

And that left you tearfully admitting it all. Longing for the physicality that would bring you closer together, the bliss of coming undone at your partner's hands. Disgust when you listened to your friends' bragging of delicious, gratifying one-night stands. Aching heat desperate to be relieved by your man only to be left at the edge, the warmth still tingling through your body. How you felt caught halfway between "normal" and "crazy" even with the drugs. And Kirishima nodded, hanging on every word.

"I'm glad you told me," he began, slowly trailing his fingertips up and down your back. "If I had known, I would've worked ten times harder. Will you let me make you feel good, honey? Please?"

How did those few sentences send you into another fit of tears? Clutching the lightweight fabric of his shirt and apologizing for the damp stains, you nuzzled against his chest in embarrassment. But he continued his motions, adept fingers working at your tense muscles.

That night, he gave you everything you wanted and more, eager to please you in a way he never had. Eyes focused, sweet nothings spilling from his lips, tender hands and featherlight kisses. Teasing and romance and dedication over hours, something you'd never experienced before.

On paper, Kirishima was perfect. Off paper, he was even more. And he fulfilled his promise to you, "I love you" slipping from his lips when you finally reached your euphoria.

"I love you too, Eijirou."

"I'll always love you more."

[fitzs-trained-monkey]

Chapter Thirty: The Puppeteer

Rated: PG-13 (Themes of insanity, graphic imagery, and violent thoughts. This is sort of an age gap relationship but keep in mind that the physical ages of both parties differs from their cognitive age. Martina is cognitively 20 and Jack is cognitively 18.)

(Author's note: Remember that Martina manipulates emotions...)

Masterlist

~I counted the stars tonight Oh, how they shine so bright I gather them all, so we perfectly align

While we gaze from far away And separately watch the day Come rising across the horizon in our minds

But now I know my heart is strong Where you belong is by my side So will you hold? 'Cause time is cold But in your soul, I'm standing by~

"It's okay, Jack. It's a crooked kind of perfect. I think I like it better now."

Then she turned and left the shed and Jack buried his head in his hands. Guilt was a crushing thing and now it was crushing him.

Why hadn't he gotten there sooner? If he had, then she wouldn't have gotten hurt. Max had led them to four wrong sheds before they finally found this one. But that wasn't on her. Max had just been trying to help. It was his fault. Jack had been the one to rush off and leave her all alone. He had promised that he would never leave her but he'd broken his promise! Would Marty hate him now?

Jack thought about the way she had looked when the fight was over.

Marty had looked like she had the day they had found her. She looked absent, detached, vacant, alive but not awake. Like the lights were on but no one was home. It wasn't the same as when she had purposefully demonstrated that emotionless act like she had earlier; like there wasn't even a person inside. This was a different kind of emptiness. It was more like Marty was hiding because she didn't want to face what had happened, and then she was lost because she couldn't find herself again. He had seen that emptiness before, on a hunt.

Sam had called it shock.

Marty hadn't even flinched when she picked up that vampire's head. There hadn't been much emotion in her when she had talked about the former owner of that head. Nor when she had talked to the head like it was some sick sort of ventriloquist dummy. But Jack had seen her eyes, and in them, he'd seen hate among the emptiness.

Just thinking of what Marty had said about the vampire she'd called Boyd made Jack's blood boil beneath his skin. The thought of that thing - that monster - touching her, made him angry. That thought made him so angry he didn't even have the words to express it.

The anger - the rage - the sheer undiluted hate that Jack felt coursing through his veins couldn't be described. He had never felt hate so strongly before, not even for the monsters or the angels in the apocalypse world. This kind of hate was new. It made him want to do something horrible. This hate burned him. This hate made Jack want to hurt the monster that had hurt Marty. Not just hurt it - no, no - that wouldn't be enough for him. This hate pushed him to do more than just hurt or kill. This hate was more than a want or an urge - this hate inside him was a craving. The kind of pain that Jack craved to inflict upon that monster was downright unfathomable, unthinkable, vile to the absolute purest definition of the word. Jack craved to make that monster pay.

He sat on the floor of the shed with his fists clenched as tight as his jaw, staring steadfastly at the corpse of the vampire that had hurt his friend and contemplating the reattaching of that vampire's head and subsequent resurrection of the thing just so he could watch as he slowly burnt it alive and twisted its horrid limbs into knots. How dare that thing lay one rotten finger on her. Jack desperately wished he could kill it again.

Because Marty was his.  She was his sister and even if she couldn't be anything more, he felt the need to protect her like she was. Jack decided that no one else should ever get to touch her.  Ever. From now on, that was how it was going to be. That was the new rule. Nobody gets to touch Marty except for him.

Jack wanted to go find her now. The thought of that vampire touching her made Jack want to touch her and make that thing's touch go away. Jack needed to go find her and make sure she was okay. But his family was talking about her so he decided to stay a little longer to listen.

"This is wrong," Dean muttered as he looked over the mess of scattered corpses Marty had left behind, "No way one kid does all this. No way."

"Did you see Martina's eyes?" Cas asked, shaking his head at the thought. "When she picked that vampire's head up and talked to it like it was a puppet, did you see her eyes?"

Dean nodded. "Yeah." If Jack didn't know better, he would have thought Dean sounded scared.

"They looked like a demon's," Cas added. This time, Dean shook his head.

"No, not like a demon's - not evil like a demon's, not necessarily. No, just... empty. Just empty, like Sam's when he lost his soul..." Dean trailed off, shaking his head while Sam just sort of stood there, looking uncomfortable.

"A soulless empath?" Cas questioned, "Is that even possible?"

Dean shrugged.

"I dunno, man! I dunno," He said with a huff, "All I do know is that there somethin' very dark inside that kid." He shuddered.

"D-dark? What-what do you mean?" Sam cut in.

"For her to do this -" Dean gestured to the carnage "- all by herself... Sammy, I don't know if she's souless or not, but there sure as Hell is something broken in there.  This  ain't self defense. This was rage. I don't know what's goin' on with that girl, but Marty ain't right in the head."

"But we can't let her go now." Sam's voice might have been quiet but its tone was made of iron.

"I dunno, Sammy..."

"We made her a promise, Dean! We can't break it!" Sam argued, "So what if she's a little broken? We all are! But there is good in her just like there's good in all of us."

"Look around you, Sam!" Dean gestured to the corpses. "I'm not talking about depression or a hero complex here. We're talkin' bonafied nuts! Full-on Loony-Tunes!"

"Based off of Martina's behavioral patterns, we could very well be dealing with a sociopath," Cas spoke up calmly.

"Even if that's the case, she's still just a kid! " Sam said, pleading. "A-and, you know what? So what? We've dealt with worse threats than a sociopatic-empath-kid! And since we found her, Marty's been getting better. Every day she get's better - I've seen it! Jack makes her better. He brings her out of things like this. Maybe he can fix her. I think he should talk to her, you know, s-see if she's okay."

"No." Cas shook his head, firmly.

"W-why not?"

"Because I said no," Cas repeated.

"Cas, you've seen how she responds to him. If one of us goes out there, we might just make it worse," Sam reasoned.

Jack stood and left the shed then. Marty needed him and he wasn't going to waste any more time listening to them argue.

"Jack wait!" Cas called out.

"No."

"I said wait!" The angel's tone was a command, not a request.

Jack did not stop. "And I said no!"

Cas reached out and snagged Jack's arm, yanking him back. "We don't know what Martina is truly capable of! This may be just the beginning."

"I don't care! Marty's my friend," Jack ripped his arm free from Cas's grip. "And if I can help her, the rest doesn't matter."

Jack left his family standing in the shed with the vampire corpses, bewildered that Jack had just disobeyed.

"Did he just hit his terrible two's or is this the rebellious teenage years?" Dean asked the others after Jack had left.

Jack found Marty rather easily. She was sitting in the snow curled up with her chin on her knees and her back pressed against the shed's metal siding. She stared at the rose that she twirled between her fingers.

"Hello," Jack said, raising his hand. Marty didn't reply, she just stared at her rose. "Are you alright?" He tried again.

Marty sighed, yet still, she didn't move. She just considered the bloody rose like it meant something greater than it did like it held the answers.

"Do you think I'm crazy, Jack?" She asked him, her voice soft and childish. Jack hesitated.

"Well, do you?" He returned, carefully. Marty's lost yet tranquil expression crumpled into a frown.

"I don't know," She whispered, laying the rose lightly on the snow, "I didn't used to think so but..." She trailed off, gazing into the middle distance with an almost imperceptible shake of her head.

"But what?" Jack sat down beside her and noticed the frosty trail of a tear on her pale skin. He brushed it away.

The simple action was enough to send a shiver down the angel boy's spine. Although the rosy hue tinting the tip of Marty's nose and cheeks was a testament to the frosty temperature; the shiver that ran down Jack's spine, leaving residual sparks lingering in his fingertips, had nothing to do with the cold. Jack studied Marty's winter-nipped rosy complexion. She looked very pretty and something about it made Jack's chest warm.

"But I don't know anymore." Marty seemed to come out of her trance, eying him warily. "Is that bad?"

Jack shook his head. "I wouldn't know."

"They think I'm crazy." Her voice broke and so did Jack's heart. "Cas and Dean - I heard them say I'm broken."

"No! You're not broken, you're amazing!" Jack grabbed her hands but she shook her head, averting her gaze.

"I killed them," She mumbled.

"You had to; they were monsters."

"So, I'm not broken?" Marty asked. Jack shook his head, offering her a reassuring smile.

"I don't think so. At least, no more than anybody else is," He replied, "No more than I am."

She nodded and was silent. Acting completely on impulse, Jack reached out, wrapping his arms around her torso, he pulled her into his lap. Marty didn't complain.

"Jack?" She spoke up a while later.

"Yes?"

"What's wrong with me?"

Jack sighed. Was this what talking to him was like?

"Nothing is wrong with you, Marty. You're perfect." He stated it like it was a fact and to him, it was.

"So, why don't I feel guilty?" She shook her head. "I killed them and that should earn me some measure of guilt, right? But instead of feeling bad, I don't feel anything. I should feel scared or shocked or angry but I don't. I don't feel anything."

Jack frowned. "Sam says that numbness can be part of shock."

She shook her head again, her eyebrows pulling together.

"No, this isn't numbness. It's not that I feel empty, I just feel indifferent." Marty's breath caught and panic rose into her voice. "It's like I'm back in Copper Harbor again. I couldn't feel anything there either! I want to feel something but I can't and there's just nothing! I wanna feel something but I can't feel anything!"

"Whoa, whoa! Hey! You're okay!" Jack tried to calm her but his efforts were futile. She shot up from his lap, stumbling forward in a discombobulated state of panic. Marty gasped for breath, her chest heaving as she raked her hands through her jet-black hair and tugged at the roots as if trying to tear it out.

"I didn't feel anything till I met you guys and I don't wanna go back to nothing! Why did I never feel anything? There has to be something wrong with me!" Marty twisted to face him. Her grey eyes were dark and turbulent clouds just before a great tempest. Not angry, but powerful and natural, beautiful in a way that commanded respect. Yet she was still vulnerable, her eyes brimming with tears.

"Jack, what's wrong with me?! "

She gazed at him with wild desperation in her eyes and Jack felt his heart sinking in his chest. He had no words for her and he felt useless. Jack couldn't give her the answer. So, he just shook his head and pulled her close again, guiding her face into the crook of his neck and holding the sweet girl in his arms like she was made of glass. Feeling Marty's body flush against his ignited those sparks inside of him but he tried his best to ignore them.

"You're okay, just focus on me!" He said, rubbing circles on her back like Castiel sometimes did for him. Marty's breathing seemed to even out a little.

"Jack, I'm scared," She whimpered against his neck. He could feel her lips brushing against his skin and he felt this tugging sensation in his stomach. It felt good, Jack realized. The sparks exploded inside of him. He wanted more. But he pushed it down. Marty needed him and he had to focus. It took quite a bit of effort to ignore it.

"Why are you scared?" He asked, trying to keep his voice even.

"I think I'm going insane."

Jack wasn't sure about that, but Marty's lips moving against his neck was definitely driving him insane. It felt so good, so unbelievably  right! Ugh! Why couldn't he just focus on the moment at hand? He caught a strand of her hair and started twirling it around his finger in an attempt to both calm her and distract himself from this blissful feeling. It didn't work. Marty made a sound that was somewhere between a sigh and a sob, her warm breath fanning against his neck. Jack's hands acted on their own accord, gripping her waist tighter. He simply couldn't stop himself and he found that, honestly, he didn't want to. Jack liked touching Marty this way. This new feeling that was sprouting inside him felt amazing. But it was hard. Keeping his breathing under control nearly caused him physical pain.

"W-why would y- um- you think that? O-other than Dean and- a-and Cas?" It was too difficult for him to focus. He  had  to put some distance between their bodies, but that was hard when distance was absolutely the last thing he wanted. With all the willpower he had, Jack tried to gently push Marty away, just enough to look at her. But Marty didn't want to move, she clung to his shirt like it was a lifeline and Jack simply didn't have the strength to try to push her away again.

"I'm forgetting things, Jack," She choked out.

Jack's heart kept on breaking for her but these sparks inside him were making him ecstatic. He couldn't help it. He felt  so  bad and  so  good at the same time. It was  so  frustrating! Would it really be so wrong to indulge this feeling? Maybe if he gave the sparks what they wanted, then they would calm down?

Jack tangled his fingers in the hair at the base for her neck, tugging a little because it felt right and he wanted to. He turned his face towards her hair and took a deep breath. He had taken the blood away when he'd healed her and her hair smelled perfect. It made him smile.

"What are you forgetting?" He asked softly, speaking into her ear.

"I remember being kidnapped but then - nothing. There's nothing after that! It was like I woke up out here and then I heard them say that I'm broken and I think I really am!" She was panicking again, her breaths quickening against his neck. It was maddening. His grip on her waist tightened again.

"No, no! Shh! It's okay, you're okay!" He tried to calm her. Jack did have to admit that what she'd said didn't sound good. Memory gaps are never a good thing, at least in his experience.

"No, I'm not! I'm not okay! Jack, I can't remember what I did!" Marty clutched onto him even tighter, anguish filling her voice. "I know I killed them, I just can't remember doing it! That's why I can't feel anything! And this isn't the first time this has happened!"

Marty pulled away from him then, and Jack's breath caught in his throat.

'When did you get so beautiful?' He thought. Even with tears streaming down her face, Jack couldn't remember seeing a more beautiful girl. She was perfect. How had he not noticed this before?

Jack let his eyes roam over her face, drinking it all in.

She was so wonderful and she didn't even know it. How little she saw of her own beauty. All Marty could see were her flaws but Jack thought they made her even more beautiful. If only she could see it.

Marty opened her mouth to speak but Jack pressed a finger to her lips. He tried his best not to think about how soft they felt under his finger and focus instead on what Marty needed from him.

"Don't talk," He said, "It's okay to be scared, Marty. But you are an amazing person, and you're so pretty and I wish you could see that. So, if you're broken, then you're the most beautiful broken thing I've ever seen. Whatever is happening to you, we're gonna find a way to fix it. I promise."

Marty shook her head, closing her eyes like she couldn't even look at him. "I think I'm losing my mind."

The response tumbled from Jack's lips before he'd even thought about it.

"Then I'll help you find it again."

Marty looked up at him then, furrowing her brow like she couldn't believe anyone would say that to her, let alone mean it. She was like a porcelain doll, her perfection was a delicate illusion. Jack could see the fractured glass of Marty's soul through her eyes. Broken pieces like shattered glass just waiting for someone to mend them; Jack felt like that sometimes.

"What if you can't? What if you can't fix me? Jack, I don't think this is something you can fix," She sniffed, wrapping her arms around herself like she was holding herself together. Jack smiled gently at her.

"Well, I suppose if you cannot look on the bright side, then I will sit beside you in the dark," He said, quoting what she had said to him the night before. Their talk by the lake house seemed so long ago now.

"Ironic," She huffed, laughing just the slightest bit.

"What is?"

"That quote," She answered, shrugging, "The Mad-Hatter says it. He's crazy."

"Oh." Jack knew who the Mad-Hatter was; he had seen Alice in Wonderland, the Disney cartoon at least. He guessed that probably wasn't the best thing for him to have said.

"I like him though. He's my favorite book character." She frowned again. "Guess I know why now; I'm just like him."

"No, you're not." Jack shook his head. "You don't wear a top-hat!"

Marty rolled her eyes and shook her head, cracking a wry smile. "Yeah, okay."

Jack felt the sparks shooting through him as he pulled her close again. Unfurling his massive, powerful, metaphysical wings, he wrapped them around Marty's tiny, fragile body, encasing her in their warmth and softness. It felt right. This was where she was supposed to be. He wanted to keep her there forever.

Jack wanted to keep her forever.

"Even if you do go crazy, I'm not going to leave you," He breathed, petting her hair, "I'm gonna be here every step of the way."

'I'm never gonna leave you again.' He silently vowed.

The sun sank lower until it dipped below the white Kansas horizon as Sam, Dean, and Castiel worked to remove the vampire corpses from the property of whoever owned the shed. Jack made sure to block the bodies from Marty's view, instead directing her gaze upward.

"Marty!" He nudged her gently and she glanced up at him, "The stars are out."

Marty angled her head towards the night sky and Jack grinned as he watched that wonder-filled expression bloom across the girl's face, just as it always did whenever she looked out into the cosmos. Her eyes reflected the starlight from above and so did her soul. Jack could see the soft, pure light, twinkling and pulsing within and around her, just like a star. Marty's soul could have been made of starlight.

"They're beautiful here," She said, her voice soft.

"What do they remind you of tonight?" Jack asked. Marty's face scrunched up as she thought and Jack waited, patient and eager, to hear whatever thought's her beautiful mind would give him.

"You," She sighed after a while, "Tonight they remind me of you."

Jack's brows pulled together, expressing his confusion. "Me? Why me?"

"Because you're ninety-three percent stardust," She replied. Marty shared a secret smile with the sky, tilting her head a little and keeping her eyes on the stars above. "

"Oh," Jack said, his tone laced with surprise and a bit of confusion. "Thank you."

Marty shook her head. "No, Jack. Thank  you. "

"For what?"

"For saying that you'll stay with me, no matter what," She sighed, "And coming to rescue me. And for telling me I'm okay." Jack shrugged.

"Anyone would have done that."

Marty shook her head.

"No, not anyone. That vampire who claimed to be my friend - she never rescued me. All of her promises were empty."

Jack didn't know what to say, so he opted for a silent nod.

"Ik hou van je, zoet wezen," Marty whispered, her voice so quiet he almost didn't catch it.

"What does that mean?"

"It's Dutch."

"Okay." He nodded like that was an acceptable answer. "But what does it mean?"

"Not telling!" She smirked up at him. He shrugged and nodded before tilting his head down to whisper in her ear.

"Ego autem semper defendat vos, stella-puella."

He promised because he meant it.

Marty twisted around to face him, a playful frown pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"Okay, what was that?" She asked. Jack shrugged innocently and hoped the dim starlight would hide the fierce blush spreading across his face.

"Latin."

"What?"

"You're not the only one who can speak another language!" He defended. Marty didn't look amused.

"Latin's a dead language," She claimed.

"No, it's not."

"Yeah, it is."

"No, it's not."

"It totally is."

"Well, I speak it and I'm not dead." Jack grinned at the glare she was giving him.

"So what's it mean then, oh wise half-angel one?"

"Not telling!" He chirped. He should have known better.

Marty huffed and rolled her eyes before turning away again. Then she jabbed her elbow straight back into Jack's stomach.

Jack groaned, rubbing his side.

Marty had very boney elbows. It was very painful.

"Moron," She chuckled under her breath.

"Pipsqueak."

"I can hit you again."

"Please don't."

~I counted the stars tonight Oh, how they shine so bright I gather them all, so we perfectly align

While we gaze from far away And separately watch the day Come rising across the horizon in our minds

And now we know, our hearts are strong Where we belong is side by side And so we'll hold each other close And in our souls, we're standing by~

Lyrics from: Standing By by Pentatonix

Translations:

Ik hou van je, zoet wezen = I love you, sweet creature

Ego autem semper defendat vos, stella-puella = I will always protect you, star-girl

[wannabeotakuwritings]

Early Mornings

Pairings: Gojo x G/N reader

Prompt/Idea: Reader trying to get Gojo out of bed, so he's not late. Like always

Warnings: Literally can't think of anything except for the fact Microsoft word was my proof reader.

Genre type thing: Fluff

Word count: 764 words

Note: I totally didn't just decide to write a whole ass fanfiction cause I'm bored. I also put the rest of it under the cut to make potential home pages/search pages more accessible or easier to navigate...

I don't own Gojo if I did I wouldn't be here right now.

Art is mine so please don't use it without permission.

The early morning sun rays are usually enough to wake you up in the mornings but today it was the birds chirping on the edge of the balcony connected to your shared apartment that did it today. After lightly tossing and turning for who knows how long, with a quiet whine you finally accept that sleep unfortunately is not an option anymore, you lightly open your eyes blinking to get used to the sudden intrusion of the early morning sun.

As your eyes adjust you move your limbs to start to stretch when you suddenly tap against a soft object, you move to turn you head to the side as you look you see your boyfriend Satoru. You take a second to admire him during the one of the only times that he is not goofing around, being an idiot or just Satoru being Satoru. His chest slowly rising with each slow breath, his body shifting ever so slightly while fast asleep, his hair tousled and his eyes bare without his usual blindfold.

But peace cannot last forever, you flip over onto your other side so that you can look at you side table to see how long you have to laze around before you and Satoru are supposed to go into work. The clock says that it is 7 o’clock meaning that you should probably get up so that you can shower and eat breakfast before going to deal with whatever curse has manifested today, as you start to awaken more and more you realize that the idiot asleep next to you had a meeting at the Kyoto school at 7 o’clock. At first you sit there for a moment contemplating if it is even worth it to wake him up and that if he is late AGAIN for the 3rd time this week maybe this time, he might finally learn his lesson.

You realize that you are dealing with the ever non caring, slightly arrogant Satoru, and that this is one lesson he may never learn, you decide that the best course of action would be to wake him up as dangerous as that has proved to be in past experiences. You sit up sure of your plan turn to the side as start to gently shake him knowing that it will with no doubt wake him up because of his superhuman awareness, you where sure even your tossing and turning may have woken him up but he does not even slightly stir with your gentle shaking. You decide to take it up a notch and shake him harder knowing that he is already late for his meeting.

“Y/n-chaaaannnn lemmeeee sleeeep” whined Satoru in a slightly raspy morning voice, “Satoru you are already late for a meeting for the 3rd time this week you NEED to get up” replied y/n while getting out of bed. “Meetings can wait y/n-chaann, I’d rather sleep in with youuu.” Argued Satoru while grabbing your waist and pulling you back into bed, then pulling you flush against him to cuddle instead of attending the meeting he was already late for. You attempt to wiggle out of his vice-grip of a hold but it is no use, after all he is the worlds strongest sorcerer for a reason. Satoru lies there chuckling at your weak attempts to escape his hold.

You know that you are fully awake you are more then aware of how fast your time is ticking away, you have to get up now so that you are not late, you suddenly have an amazing idea and decide that you must do the unthinkable in order to escape his hold. “satoooruuu my arm hurts can I take it out” y/n whines, “of course looovee, but first a kissss” Satoru replies while awaiting his kiss impatiently. Giving in you give him a kiss then he holds true to his statement and allows you to free your poor arm.

With your arm free you decide that now is the perfect time to put your plan into motion, you lift up your arm pretending to be adjusting then suddenly you smack Satoru upside the head then quickly hop out of bed moving quickly to go shower then get ready for work, While Satoru sits there dumbfounded at the fact that you did not wanna cuddle Wasn’t even fazed by the smack lol, before getting out of bed and deciding to actually show up at that meeting despite the fact he's already a good thirty minutes late.

~END!~

Welp my first fanfiction is all done! I probably shouldn't make this a continuous thing.