#I need the page minimum to be longer so I feel more stressed

[johnnysuhbmarine]

Watching Harmony Forest instead of writing my last two college essays…but it’s okay because looking at Intak will make me motivated to drink water finish my finals assignments so I can look at Intak even MORE and with less stress!!!

But seriously you want me to write eight pages on communication and character when I could instead watch brunette Intak in a cap win at dodgeball?? One of those is clearly the better option

[bouncybongfairy]

Miscommunication

Izuku Midoriya x Fem Reader

Summary: As a new student at U.A. you are pretty overwhelmed with the workload and training hours. You're used to having a lot on your plate but this is an entirely new level you didn't prepare yourself to be at. After turning down Deku's offer to go out with a group of students to get food. You end up falling asleep while you are studying and wake up starving. While looking for something to eat in the kitchen, you encounter the green-haired boy who won't stop sending you mixed singles. You end up using your quirk to see what he thinks of you in his dreams.

Word-Count: 2k+

<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3<3

Part 2 Is now up!

Being enrolled in U.A. wasn’t as manageable as you thought. Everyone warns you that it’s going to be a lot of work but you were always a really active student. Sports, clubs, honors classes, and yes the workload could get heavy from time to time but it became over your head. Now that you are a U.A. high student, you were barely managing the bare minimum. Living away from home was a bit stressful as well, you missed having your parents right around the corner if you needed them. You were currently in your dorm, typing away at your computer. Trying desperately to find filler words to make your essay 2000 words. It was Friday which you used to look forward to but now, it was the one day a week when not only your body but your mind was the sorest. After training every day after school on top of how hard the educational material makes you feel like you had nothing left. Even though you were exhausted you were trying to get your homework for Monday done tonight. You really had to power through it sometimes but it always made the weekend more enjoyable when you didn’t have to worry about it. There was a soft knock on your door. 

“Come in!” you called out. The door opens and Deku enters the room. 

“Hey Y|N, a couple of us were gonna go out and grab something to eat. I just wanted to let you know, extend the invite,” he said, crossing his arms. 

“Awe thank you for the invite but I think I’m gonna stay here and work on some assignments. Thank you for offering though, that’s very sweet of you,” you politely decline. 

“Are you sure? We're only gonna be gone for an hour, we weren’t planning on being out for a while,” he insisted. 

“It’s okay, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it without this essay being done. I really appreciate it though,” you said, he gave you an understanding smile before leaving your room. 

You could never read Deku, there were times you felt like he was flirting with you but he was so nice to everyone. Sometimes you thought maybe you just weren’t used to boys at your school who were so well mannered. Therefore you were romanticizing how he goes out of his way to be nice. In class or at lunch, you would sometimes catch him staring. Or during training, you would notice that he would coincidentally become your partner in a lot of combat drills. You would always brush this off as him trying to make you feel welcomed as the new girl but there were other times that you were so sure he was trying to send a message. One time when you were walking back from the kitchen to your dorm when you ran into him. The conversation wasn’t anything remarkable but, you could feel like he was trying to make conversation out of nothing; like he wanted to keep you in his presence longer. Finally, when you finish the rough draft of your essay, you give yourself a pat on the back feeling quite happy. You close your laptop and go to grab your math textbook and the three pages of unsolved equations. As you got off the bed you could feel how sore your muscles were, it was as if you could feel every single muscle in your body pulling as you stretched. You lay back down on your stomach and start the first problem but you were passed out onto the book before you could start problem 4. 

When you woke up, the first thing you noticed was a drool stain on your book which you tried to wipe away. You grabbed your phone to see what time it was only to discover you were asleep for a little over 2 hours. It was 11:00 pm and your stomach was hurting from how hungry you were. You sat up on your bed and threw your old tee shirt off and grabbed a fresh one. After putting on some sweatpants and a pair of socks, you make your way to the kitchen. It must have been a tough week because the entire dormitory was silent. Other than a few T.V.s or radios playing from some student’s rooms you could hear a pin drop. You start to rummage through different cupboards and the fridge, not really finding anything. You grab a diet coke and continue looking. 

“I brought you back some-” Deku started but was interrupted by you practically jumping 5 feet in the air. 

“Holy shit Deku you scared the crap out of me,” you said, grabbing your heart to check if it was still in your chest. 

“Sorry I just wanted to tell you that I brought you some take-out,” he said, going into the fridge and pulling out two containers. 

“Thank you, here let me grab my wallet,” you said, setting the food on the counter. 

“No, don't worry about it,” he said. 

“Well.. thank you. I would have eaten something instant,” you said, putting one of the containers in the microwave. 

It was moments like these where you got mixed singles. He could have left a note, knocked on your door, or even texted you to let you know that he got you food. It seemed like he was waiting for you, to be able to talk to you in person. It was so refreshing to be around a guy like Izuku. He was just so genuine and you could tell he was never trying to act cool or tough. Which was how most boys in your class acted. He was just so sweet and kind but still could be powerful and forward when he needed to be. It was just so awkward because imagine confessing your feelings to someone who doesn’t feel the same way AND having to live with that person after. The idea of that seemed less than pleasant to you. 

“It’s no problem, I’ve forgotten to eat when I’m studying. Even worse after really intense training, makes my stomach feel like it’s eating itself,” he said, grabbing a bottle of water. 

“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate it,” you said.

“So I know you’re new and I heard overheard that your quirk has to do with sleep. Instead of assuming I thought I’d just ask you personally what exactly it is,” Deku said.

“I can travel into people’s dreams and talk to their subconscious,” you said, taking the food out of the microwave. 

“Oh okay, so Are you planning on working at Midnight’s agency once you get certified?” he asked.

“Yeah, hopefully, because our quirks work so well together she’ll pick me as one of her sidekicks. I think it would be cool to have a costume made by her stylist, she always looks so cool,” you giggled then blowing on your food to help cool it down. 

“Yeah you would look great,” he said probably before he really thought about it. When you looked up he had a deep red blush painted across his freckles. 

“Am I- or like, I thought you and Uraraka were dating,” you said, putting a lid on the food. 

“What? No, we’re not together and I just-” he started. 

“Sorry I didn’t mean to pry or anything,” you said. 

“No, it’s okay but why do you ask?” he asked. 

“I was just asking, sorry I know it was random. Thank you again for the food,” you said walking back to your dorm. 

You felt like such a coward, you were just thinking to yourself how you were getting tired of not knowing how he felt. That was the perfect opportunity to ask him but you couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Not to mention that you were juggling a lot and would adding a guy to that really be helping things? Probably not but you couldn’t help how you feel. You sat on your bed and started picking at the food, it upset you that you didn’t have the courage to ask him if he liked you. You started considering if you should dream walk. Normally you wouldn’t go into someone’s dreams to pry into their subconscious but you felt like you were in between a rock and a hard place. At least if the answer was no, it wouldn’t be awkward from day to day seeing him in class and in the common areas. Obviously, Uraraka had a thing for him and you didn’t want to cause any drama or anything but at the same time if she seriously wanted Izuku she would have had him by now. You set the food on your desk and took a shower, you were still considering whether to carry out your plan or not. You turn the water to be as scolding as your skin could take, using your fingernails to really scrub the shampoo into your scalp. After rinsing, you change into some comfortable clothes and begin to start setting up your room. You don’t need candles to enter a person’s dream but you notice that it helps keep you more focused and to stay for longer periods of time. Arranging the candles into a circle and sitting in the middle, you finally began. You closed your eyes and started focusing on whose dream you wanted to enter: Izuku’s.

It was dark at first but then you could see visions of his dreams. Most people assume it’s only one dream a person has at night but it’s actually a collection of different events in your life that your brain jumps back and forth from. Taking out pieces and allowing your imagination to reconstruct those pieces. For example: if you ever dreamed that you were hanging with friends then suddenly you were at school or work. That’s your brain jumping back and forth from dream to dream. You could see in the center of the pitch-black space was Izuku sleeping in his bed, snoring away. You hold back a small chuckle before looking above him and seeing his dreams. He had a couple of different scenarios, one of him fighting a nameless villain, most likely caused by how much he was training. One of him at what you assumed to be his mother’s house, eating at the dining room table. The next one took your breath away, it was you while you were battling Momo during a combat drill. You expanded the dream, looking at all the different scenarios of yourself. In one of them, I could see him at his desk, drawing a character page about you. When he flipped the page over, he was drawing what he imagined your room to look like. This warmed your heart, it was just so sweet. There was one more scenario of you sitting at the lunch table with a couple of your friends. You were really excited to know that you were right, that he did like you. After exiting his dream and returning back to your room, you blow out the candles. Letting the wax solidify a bit before putting it away. By this time the sun was starting to rise and you were utterly exhausted. 

Your hair was somewhat dry and the dark circles under your eyes were extremely puffy. Even though you were so disheveled and tired, you couldn’t help but be thrilled about knowing Izuku liked you back. Or at least thought about you at the very least. Right as you were about to lay down, there was a knock at your door. You throw your hair into a quick bun before opening the door. Your face burns a vibrant red when you see that it’s Izuku. His hair was messy, more so than usual. He wasn’t wearing a shirt and his sweatpants hung low, showing his boxers. His eyes were squinty and his brow furrowed. 

“Did you go into my dreams last night?” he asks with a raspy voice, leaving you completely speechless.

[alostwanderernotfound]

Understanding Some of the Roots of Abrahamic Faiths’ Persecution:

Many many years ago when Jesus & his followers preached on Earth (& even for much longer before that) they faced a unique type of resistance. It was insidious.

I would teach about how I created & brought on other special beings to help create the Abrahamic religions. But, a significant portion of the texts were destroyed. The majority of the Christian texts specifically were altered&destroyed. Only some from the other 2 religions. I was working on the process of rewriting all the textual documents to put together into the Bible when I first started my journey as Jesus, preach those teaching, & keep traveling with intention to intervene in any prophesied horrible and/or apocalyptic events that could cause people harm. With these intentions in mind I often preached then during night time hours attempted to rewrite the texts and also came up with logistical ideas to intervene in possible prophesied events. But much to my dismay, I found myself sick almost everyday in varying degrees. For some hours of the day I felt okay, but sometimes it would be hours to nearly the entire day of debilitating symptoms that heavily slowed me down. One of the most noticeable was my memory. Often I’d have to stop preaching to sit down & try to recuperate mentally, but I felt the need to always keep working.

I’d sit and try to write during these episodes and it got to a point where I couldn’t even write my name at the top of the page if I tried. I began to have to write notes to myself on my thought processes to go back to and read when I got so forgetful. Sometimes I’d feel somewhat better, but I’d have to lay and rest the entire day with the lights off and my eyes shut to even being to start to feel better. It was incompatible with our mission. We would struggle to read, work, travel, not forget things or lose them, speak coherently, write coherently, & all other vital & essential functions to basically live.

I would often try to theorize and identify what was exacerbating my symptoms & it was an excruciating process, because it didn’t always make sense. Things upon observation were…atypical.

We had realized it was exacerbated from increased exposure to light (from the sun, indoor lights, any source of light, & especially flashing lights), strong smells, & stress at a minimum.

Then we began to notice something else.

It was like when we saw certain people weird stuff started happening.

At first it felt accidental. Then the next event felt accidental & then the next one after that. Then time after time after time of the same set of events occurring, months into years into decades, they started to feel more and more suspicious.

We’d find ways to shut off the lights or dim them or turn off strobing lights then we’d leave the room and it would all be back on.

We’d go person to person & ask & they denied doing it. Then we’d turn them back off. Then we’d leave the room & come back & they were all back on again. This would happen over and over and over again while begging people to stop cause it made me feel unwell. But yet? No one was doing it when asked?

Then it was smells. People would leave, go to the bathroom, & then be covered in perfumes. They would come back to the room I’m in and sit next to me. I would move. They would follow me. Then perfumes and flowers were left out & sprayed all around different rooms. When I’d try to leave rooms or houses or places, these things & people would follow us.

We remarked back then it was possible I was having seizures & these things were making me sick. Everyone said they understood.

Then the same set of events would happen, over and over and over again with no regard for how unlivable it was making my life. Till the point they pushed me & I wandered around in the desert for many days & many nights having nonstop absence seizures that had been induced by this behavior in combination with the middle eastern sun.

Once we tried for many years to talk to people about it, some people attempted to intervene. But, then it got weirder. As I held a fan up to my face, it was like perfume was now being blown in my face like someone had sprayed it into the fan & I was seizing again and again. Then it happened to some of my other followers with similar neurological issues and it kept occurring mysteriously.

Then I started wondering. There’s no way right?

Yep. Invisible. There’s a specific method to seeing them. But they would congregate around us invisibly & were flashing invisible flashes of lights & spraying smells to give us more seizures. This happened since the time we preached to even now today they still do it.

Time after time after time you start getting sick randomly & you try narrowing it down day after day after day of agony & try & convince yourself everything is just mythological, but that’s how they get away with it for the rest of your life.

Then it happened to follower after follower after follower of ours & it started disabling people.

We’ve had holy wars many times over, but the origin of the “holy wars” lied very much in our “peace times”. There never was peace for many of us.

Not only do they hunt us and hurt us to this day, but they were disabling people to the result of wiping away the Bible & church from history that was supposed to be made all those years ago. It is not only morally reprehensible, but the various things they did & continue to do daily is tantamount to daily psychological & physical torture.

I have forgiven a lot. But to do it again to me this week? After all this time? Seriously? Is this a joke?

They will never take a diplomatic approach & will hunt me & I assume other followers of these religions possibly forever.

If that is not wrong, I don’t know what is. Persecution is inseparable from our religions because they appear to not wish to know any other way.

[yikesitskennawrites]

Transitions- Chapter Fifteen: Friends Your Age

Series Masterlist

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Pairings: Steven Grant x (platonic) Reader, Marc Spector x (platonic) Reader, Jake Lockley x (platonic) Reader, Layla El-Faouly x (platonic) Reader  

Content warning: Violence, talks of eating disorder, mentions of suicidal thoughts.

A/n: I am going to put a content warning on the master-list from here on out because this chapter got so graphic. This chapter is 13.7k words long. 35 pages double spaced. It it the longest chapter yet. Please do not expect every chapter to be getting longer and longer like it has been. My minimum word count for each chapter is 3,500 and this one just tripled it for this chapter. 

Thank you so much for reading and enjoying the series. If you want to be tagged don’t be afraid to ask. I also welcome all fanart of the series if you guys want to make some. Much love and enjoy~

---

As soon as the words left your mouth a laugh left with it. Your shoulders ached from the tension leaving it and even more so as you giggled and your upper body shook. Marc looked at you in confusion, his forehead wrinkling as he scrunched his brows at the sight of you. You didn’t care how crazy you looked, you had a tough week and a stressful day that was supposed to be relaxing. You had fun with Lauren and her family, it should have stayed that way but no, that crazy lady had to creep you out. Everything since meeting the men has caused you stress. 

The questions of what ifs plagued your mind as your giggles increased into boisterous laughter, you bent over and clutched your knees as you let the noise leave you. What if you didn’t go out for groceries that night? What if you walked a little faster? What if you went out for groceries at a different time? You would not have met them. You wouldn’t be dealing with a god who wants you dead and an avatar who happens to be a third alter of your neighbors. Would it have been better if you didn’t meet them? You definitely wouldn’t be as terrified as you have been over the last month. Would your life be better? Your first thought was that it would be, but as soon as that popped into your mind you thought the opposite. You weren’t sure.

"Why are you laughing?" Marc asks. The question made you giggle harder until you were laughing so much that you were bent over and your hands were clutching your knees. Tears spring from your eyes and blur your vision, making it difficult to see the hardwood below you. You blinked and felt the water drop to the floor. 

"Why am I laughing?" You ask through your giggles, "Because everything is so fucked." You stood back into a straight spine position and wiped the tears from your eyes with the back of your hand. 

“What happened? Why are you avoiding our calls?” Marc asks. He sounds concerned and slightly angry. You don’t look at him as you walk around the island and open your cupboard before taking a ceramic mug you thrifted from the nearly empty shelf. You walk over to your sink and fill it up with the water running from the faucet before taking a sip. The sight of something moving on the empty dirty glass resting next to the sink caught your eye. You turn your attention to it, squinting at him as you see Marc's reflection appear in the glass from behind you as you listen to his shoes shuffle behind you with the movement. You feel his eyes burn into your back as you finish the rest of your water while wishing that it was the much needed alcohol. 

You only drank alcohol once when you snuck a sip of some brand of vodka from your parents liquor cabinet. It was a dare from your best friend and you refused to back down from it, you were fifteen and it was one of the last sleepovers you had with your best friend before the blip. You wish that you knew it was the last one at the time, you wouldn’t have taken it for granted. You knew that the legal age limit to buy alcohol in the United Kingdom was eighteen, although you were faking your age to be eighteen, you didn’t like people looking too closely at your ID so, you rarely tried risking stuff like that since you moved to London. Now, you were considering buying the cheapest beverage you could find just so you could feel like you were relaxing. After this entire week, you definitely needed something stronger than the water running out of your faucet. 

Setting your now empty mug into the sink, you slowly turn around and lean your back against the counter. Marc stood in front of you with his arms crossed over his chest as he gave you an expectant look. You didn’t expect your heart to ache at the sight. He reminded you of your dad, whenever you got into trouble he would have the same expression on his face as he waited for an answer. Except, at Marc's look you didn’t wither underneath it or feel the anxiety your dad gave you. You felt anxiety from the creepy interaction at the bus stop and the murder bird and his acquaintance, but not from your neighbor who stood before you. Even though the third alter, Marc, and Steven shared the same body and the third alter could switch at any time and go through with their threat of snapping your neck or slashing your throat open, you felt relieved at the familiar sight of the man you became somewhat friends with.

“You know something.” He says quietly. He doesn’t sound accusing but more like stating a fact. A sigh leaves your mouth, your chest deflating as it makes its exit. 

“I know I had a shitty week.” You tell him with a small shake of your head. “A shit-show of a week actually.”

“Did…” Marc hesitates. He glances at something to his right that you don’t bother looking at. Instead, you watch him listen to whatever the hell Steven is telling him. 

“Something bad happened.” He states. His brown eyes stare at your face but never make contact with you. You bit the inside of your cheek. You never really thought about what to tell them other than some stupid excuse as to why you couldn’t make it to dinner. You did think about screaming at them for worrying you and for the actions of their alter that they have suspicions of but aren’t responsible for. Although Marc and Steven did have the responsibility of telling you about their suspicions, that’s what you're upset about when it comes to them and not the mysterious and terrifying alter. The third alter and the realization that they’re technically still a gods avatar because of the body is a whole other problem. 

“It was terrifying and creepy. I thought I was going to die.” You admit, and he presses his lips into a thin line. “To start off the beginning of the week, I called Stevens' number multiple times and he didn’t answer. I was worried for you guys and I left voicemails. Next, two men with matching bestie tattoos followed me home and I panicked called Steven and he didn’t pick up.” You watch as Marc winces at that and awkwardly shuffles his feet. “Then, you broke into my apartment and threatened my god-damn life if I didn’t leave and disappear from yours and Stevens. I didn’t get an ounce of sleep after that because I was too scared that you would kill me as you promised to.”

“Wait-” Marc starts but you cut him off.

“And then- this creepy-ass lady that had to be besties with the two men on the bus because she had the same tattoo asks me if I want to be judged.” You finish. 

“I-” Marc falters for a moment. He clutched his head, fingers digging into his black curls. “I...we didn’t threaten you…” He says. He looked like he was pained by the thought alone. You clicked your tongue against the roof of your mouth as you thought about whether to tell them about the third alter. You should tell them, but to be honest you were scared of the consequences since the third one was most likely lingering in hearing distance or however it works for the men. Would they kill you and make it seem like this conversation was a dream to Marc and Steven? You didn’t want to find out.

You bite your lip before you say, “No, I suppose you didn’t.” It wasn’t a lie, kind of. Marc and Steven weren’t the ones to loosen the lock on your door. It now has a harder time locking, but it still works okay. Marc stared into your eyes. The more you thought about what to say, there was no way of working around not telling them about the third alter. They will notice the gaps in your story if you were to give them a false one, They’re not stupid, they will put two puzzle pieces together and eventually find out. Maybe, you didn’t have to directly tell them. They were suspicious of a third alter anyways, you could give them hints. Perhaps the alter wouldn’t go after you then.

You add, “But, uh…you did break into my apartment. You owe me a new door handle. There’s no way maintenance will actually fix my door.” You roll your eyes as you point at him. “Do you know how long it took for them to fix the caulk around the windows to keep rainwater from getting in? A long ass time.” You called maintenance every single day. You had bags underneath the window for months to keep the water from spreading all over your floor and storms in England were tough to go through. 

“The lock was already loose, so it wasn't difficult picking it.” Marc scoffs. You huff out a breath. 

“I know the lock hasn’t been right since you broke in.” You say and it seems to click for him at that moment. It was kind of like watching a lightbulb go off above his head, his lips part and his angry eyes shifted into wide ones. He nearly took a step back, he brought his arms up as if he was getting ready to defend himself but as soon as they lifted into the air they immediately fell back to his sides. 

“I didn’t break in.” He says slowly, his features falling into one of horrible realization, “Steven…says he didn’t break in…” He rubs the lower half of his face with his hand before he brings his guilt-filled eyes to your face. “But, they did. The other one.” He finishes. You wet your lips with your tongue, deciding to stay silent. That silence was all he needed to hear because he looked like he wanted to run away from you. The switch was subtle. You noticed the way Marc's posture slouched into Stevens and his tense shoulders dropped as Steven brought his hands up to his chest. 

“Oh my lord,” Steven says. His eyes were wide as he took a hesitant step towards you before he finally decided that he needed to be touching you. His shoes hit the wooden floor as he closed the distance between you, he grasped your face between his palms, his right thumb gently rubbed the side of your face.

“Are you hurt? Did they hurt you?” He rushes out, his eyes scanned your entire face as if he was taking in every single detail before he took a step back and his eyes checked every visible inch of your body. His hands never left your face as he searched for injuries that may have occurred during the break-in. 

“No,” You mumble, the word managing to leave your lips through your squished cheeks. His brown eyes trailed back up to yours and his hands only left your face to instead wrap his arms around your torso and pull you in for a hug. You let out a yelp of surprise which was muffled because your face was buried in his chest. The scent of their laundry detergent and deodorant was inhaled through your nose as you slowly wrapped your arms around his middle. You didn’t know you missed the smell until now. The two of you stood in your kitchen, holding each other for a while. You needed the hug even though it felt a little bit weird to do so. It was a stressful week to say the least. You didn’t know if you should tell him, or them depending on if Marc was still lingering around, that their alter had a knife to your throat. 

You planned to, you actually expected to be more pissed and yelling at them than how calm you were throughout your conversation so far. But, as you hugged Steven and breathed in his familiar scent, you thought about how you didn’t want them to blame themselves for the actions of their alter, they had no control over them and they weren’t completely aware of them. Their suspicions should have been brought forward to you so you could have avoided this all together or be much more educated on the possibility of a third alter before it was confirmed by being put in danger of them. 

You had every right to be upset by it and you absolutely were. But, you didn’t want them to ghost you like you considered doing. You were worried that they would decide that it was best for you to no longer be in their lives because of the alter. You’ve been thinking for the past few days that you would probably be safer with them anyways. Since Marc was able to gather information on you and the history of your past, you figured that anybody could if they were to look deep enough or consider searching up your first and last name. All your old social media accounts were still up but you never logged into them since before the blip. That’s probably were Marc started his research on you. You made a mental note to return the favor for him soon. 

Eventually, as you pulled away from Steven and he took a step back to give you some breathing space, you decided against telling them about the threat the alter made. Perhaps you’ll bring it up to them in the future, but right now you want your somewhat normal relationship to be back. You stared at Stevens face, he had a soft expression on his features directed towards you and the sight made something tug in your heart. You missed him and Marc, you realized as you registered his look of fondness. You still allowed yourself to be scared of the third alter but you refused to let it show. You didn’t want them to have some ego because they knew you were scared of them. They probably already knew, honestly, but you didn’t want to confirm it for them.

“You said that they had tattoos?” Steven says. His statement that sounded like a question nearly caused you to jump. You were too wrapped up in your worried thoughts that you almost forgot that they were here. You nod. 

“They had scale tattoos.” You say, pausing for a moment as you thought of what you could say to describe them. “Y’know how they have those scales in the vegetable and fruit aisles at the grocery store? Those were the scales. Not like the type of scale you would weigh yourself with.” You stop your rambling as you watch Stevens' face pale. He brought his hand up to his face as he turned to the nearest reflective surface which happens to be that exact same glass cup you saw Marc's reflection in earlier. You could see the wheels turning in his mind through his eyes as he didn’t remove his gaze from the cup beside you. 

“Harrow.” Was all he said. Your mouth parts as you slowly process the single word. 

“Harrow…?” You say. You give him a confused look as you watch Steven look like he was about to have a huge mental breakdown at any moment. “Isn’t that the guy that you fought?” 

“The loony man that released Ammit and we had to step in and stop him? Yeah, that man.” Steven confirms. You definitely needed something stronger than water to drink. 

“Harrow.” You state. You place your hands on your hips and glance down to your shoes. You close your eyes for a second just so you could feel like you were able to process the information given to you. “I thought you said that Harrow died.”

“He did,” Steven catches himself and presses his lips together into a thin line. “He is dead.” 

“Then why-” You look at him. “Why…?” You didn’t quite know what to say or ask. You couldn’t comprehend that a dead-guys cult was fucking around with you. You of all people, they noticed enough to start a damn conversation with you. You know how the joke goes: an Egyptian god, an avatar with an unknown name, and three cult members walk into a bar and you end up dead. Ba-dum-tiss. Jokes on you, baby. What tops it all off is that they know your apartment complex and the bus route you ride. You were never going to get a break from this were you? You really were dragged into this mess the moment Marc and Steven saved you. You were saved from anything that could have happened in that alley, because there's a hell of a lot more shit that could have gone down than just being mugged; but at what cost were you saved? You no longer had the choice to live a normal life, as normal as it could be after the blip and living in a world with superhero's and villains. You don’t think you could walk away from this without looking over your shoulder everyday for as long as you live.

You swallow as your eyes flicker back to his face and he had the expression of fear, worry, and a little bit of anger. That last emotion didn’t seem to fit him as well as it did for Marc even though they shared the same body.

“You said that you called me?” Steven asks after a while of tense silence. You didn’t know if it was as tense for him as you felt or not. You gave him an incredulous look as he pulls his phone from his pocket and checks the screen for what you assume was notifications of received messages in his voicemail. “I never…I don’t have any voice messages.” 

“Yeah,” You state. “They deleted them like they said they would.” You knew that he was trying to change the subject, you could tell by the way that he stared at his screen that he wasn’t as intently looking for the messages as he probably was listening to whatever the hell Marc was speaking about. You couldn’t think of anything to ask him about the cult, you figured all evidence was in front of you and the three of you could clearly see that the cult wanted something but you didn’t know what and you doubted that they knew since they were surprised about the stalking. 

Steven looks away from his phone and to the light fixture above you two. You glance at it, since the bulb and the plastic case around it exploded that night that their alter broke in, you haven’t had any light in your kitchen except for the sunlight filtering through your living room windows and into your apartment. You haven’t called maintenance to fix it, mainly because you knew that it would take them forever to come look at it and confirm that you indeed didn’t have light in your kitchen and that it was a problem. You also didn’t know how to explain that an Egyptian god dramatically broke your light just because he wanted to be extra. 

“So, what happened to your light?” Steven asks, his index finger pointing to the fixture above the two of you. 

“It broke,” You tell him and he stares at you, waiting for you to inform him of more detail. “You’ll tell me that I’m just scared.” You roll your eyes. “But Khonshu decided that he doesn’t want me to have light, apparently.” You purposely left out the detail of the blanket being ripped off the wall for what you assumed was dramatic purpose. The old god had no reason to break your stuff, he was just being more rude. Steven looks at you and slowly, you watch him accept your answer. You supposed that they were accepting that the old bird has nothing else to do but to fuck with you for his own game. First it was the sight of the crescent staff, then the laundry room, and finally the exploding of your kitchen light bulb. 

You didn’t know how to tell them the other reason why Khonshu was lingering around. How do you tell your neighbors that just got out of being a gods avatars that their third alter is still his avatar? It’s not like there's a sympathy card for the matter. There’s just no easy way to tell them. You couldn’t even buy them a cake and ask the decorator to write the statement in icing. The decorator would think you’re crazy and the men would think you’re heartless. They would have to believe you when you force them to put two and two together. They must have not let on that they thought it was odd that the Moon Knight suit was found at the crime scene of the kid and they disappeared for a whole day and night. Maybe they wanted to believe that their alter didn’t sign up to be the gods avatar, if you were in their shoes, you know you would hope that your alter wouldn’t be an avatar. 

As you watched Steven eye the broken shards that were still attached to the lights, you decided that ignorance was bliss and they were bound to find out soon. There’s absolutely no way that they will continue to chalk up their sore muscles because they slept on the couch. Especially now that you’re not going to continue staying the night there, so there’s no reason that they should sleep on the couch. At the moment, you were okay with talking with them, but you didn’t want to wake up in the middle of the night with a knife to your throat because you pissed the mysterious alter off. Layla said that Marc snapped in the fight against Harrow, which you now guessed to by the third alter; so that means they can force themselves into the driver's seat as much as Marc and Steven can smoothly switch places. The fact that the alter hasn’t switched with them yet, simply because you told the men of their extra roommate living in the body spoke volumes.

“A lot has happened since we were gone…” Steven trails off with a frown. He lolls his head towards your fridge and stares at the plastic yellowed surface. There wasn’t a single magnet on the door as there was at Stevens and Marcs. Theirs was decorated with magnets of odd sayings, a few Egyptian gods and pyramids, and a couple from Cairo. You guessed they got those ones after the fight with Harrow. You could totally picture Steven walking the streets of the city and picking up some souvenirs. Your parents fridge had weird comic magnets that held up pictures of family members you don’t recognize and some that you do. You briefly wondered if the people that moved into your home kept the magnets or gave them away. 

You bite the inside of your cheek as you watch Steven open the fridge door. You knew what the inside looked like, the shelves were empty save for half a jar of strawberry jelly and a small container of butter you bought on one of your grocery trips months ago. You haven’t had the chance to go shopping this week for yourself, since you were too tired to go on your bonus day off.  Your fridge was bare but your friends called bread and peanut butter sat on one of your shelves in your cabinet. They were your best friends until you had the chance to go shopping tomorrow. Maybe you’ll end up using the money you saved for the men's strawberry waffles and buy yourself a family pack of ramen instead or you’ll buy yourself a slice of cake as a reward for making it through this week. Either one sounded appetizing since all you ate was a couple of slices of toast. Maybe you should have stayed for dinner at Laurens. 

“Have you been eating?” Steven asks as he shuts the door and directs his attention to you. He didn’t seem angry, he looked more concerned and a little upset more than anything. You lean against the counter as you nod. He raises an eyebrow at the gesture and says, “Really? Because your fridge is empty.” 

“I’ve been eating peanut butter and toast.” You say slowly, and Steven narrows his eyes. “And my work offers free subs for their employees, so I’ve been eating that too.”

“That’s not a proper meal.” He scolds. “You need to eat three meals a day and two of them being a couple of slices of bread smothered in peanut butter isn’t that.” 

“I ate your fettuccine…” You say, trying to feel like you’re able to defend yourself but the claim comes off as weak. You reach over onto the counter and hand him the clean container that once held that meal. 

“That was days ago,” He says as he takes the small plastic box and lid from you. “You look like you haven’t eaten a single thing since I last saw you.” His fingers play with the lid of the container. You weren’t sure what to say to that. You didn’t think that you looked too bad at least compared to this time last year when you just moved to London and lived in the city for a couple of months. You were terrible at taking care of yourself back then. You were dealing with the fresh wound of losing your parents and life, there were points that you thought about killing yourself. There were days that you didn’t eat, because you didn’t have enough money to spend on a meal and because you didn’t have the motivation to take care of yourself. 

That was in the early days before you learned how to properly budget your checks and money you received through tipping; and when you decided that you weren’t going to deal with the five stages of grief and jump straight onto acceptance. It wasn’t easy doing that, you do find yourself occasionally slipping back into stage one whenever you think too much about everything you lost before you force yourself to focus on whatever daily task or conversation you were having. You just…didn’t know how to let yourself grieve without destroying yourself. You knew that if Steven learned of your struggles that he would lose his shit and would probably make you go over for three meals a day. He would probably black mail you to ensure that he sees you on the hour if he absolutely had to. 

“Well…I have…” You manage to weakly defend yourself and Steven sighs. 

“You look like you haven't.” He states and you awkwardly look away from him. You felt like a kid who was being scolded by their parents. The feeling felt too familiar and awful, you didn’t like it. Steven adds, “Marc thinks it best that we try to distance ourselves from you until we figure the bloody stuff out with Harrow's cult and the other us, but I think that's rubbish.” 

“Yeah?” You say. You were a little surprised that Steven thinks keeping you at arm's distance from now on was stupid. You thought that he would agree with Marc and decide that the best option to keep you safe was to not have any contact with you. Perhaps they would only invite you over to meals and slumber parties if you wanted to continue staying the night at their place if they both agreed on not being spotted with you in public.

“And I know that we look like the alter that scared you, but we’re not them.” Steven adds, you trail your gaze back to him. You have to admit that the last two statements surprised you. They sounded so unlike Steven who seemed to be the one to play it safe while Marc was the one who took more risks. You could only guess that Marc was beating himself up for the suspicions of a third alter that could have done much more harm than scare you, obviously they still don’t know about the extent of being pinned to the wall with a dagger to your throat. 

“I don’t feel like cooking tonight, so how do you feel like going out to eat?” Another surprise, Steven doesn’t want to cook and he’s thinking of risking being spotted with you out in public. You suppose it doesn’t matter that you’re seen with the men because clearly Harrow's cult already knows what you look like and where you live and work. It’s been a long time since you sat down and ate in a restaurant establishment that wasn’t the table shoved into the corner next to the supply closet of your workplace. Your parents and you used to have the Friday night tradition of ordering takeout, most of the time it being pizza from a decent pizza parlor down the road. The couple of final times you ate in a restaurant was when you were celebrating your mothers birthday and your own. You would love to go and enjoy the atmosphere of dining in a restaurant, minus the anxiety you would feel for the cult, the third alter, and looking at the prices of the menu and visibly cringing at it, but you don’t have enough money to spend on a meal out in a food establishment. It’s either tomorrows grocery haul or a meal that would probably last you a day and a half, that is if you have left overs. Some places serve small portions too.

“I don’t have any money to pay for it.” You say softly and Steven shakes his head, the curls softly bouncing against his forehead. 

“You’re not going to pay a cent.” He says. Your frown at that, you didn’t like the idea of letting him pay for your dinner. 

“Can’t you just order takeout?” You ask. At least with that you could help clean up the mess. 

“I would but there's this restaurant that I’ve been wanting to show you and this is a good enough excuse to.” He narrows his eyes at the glass cup next to you, “Oh hush up, we’ll be fine.” You glance to your side, half expecting that Marc would be standing next to you, but of course nobody was there. 

“What if they attack us?”

“Marc has military experience and as far as they know we’re still the old birds Moon Knight.” Steven says with a grin. A feeling of guilt washes through you at the sight of Stevens' smile, it was clear that he thought it was a clever plan especially since he believes that he and Marc no longer serve Khonshu. It was true that they weren’t the gods' puppet, but their body still participates in the nightly activities due to the sharing of the body with the alter. He must have mistook your expression of guilt for hesitation because he quietly says, “Come to dinner with us…please?” 

You wanted to go. You wanted to get back into the routine of spending at least a couple of hours each day with them since you figured your deal will continue. You were just a little guilty for not knowing how to tell them about Khonshu and their body being his avatar. You couldn’t imagine that the best time to tell them would be as you're eating a meal that they paid for in public. They would freak out and panic and you weren’t sure if they would handle the information well enough to be able to remain calm. You know you would be absolutely pissed if you were them. You would probably lose it and begin to scream in anger in public. You looked at Stevens' hopeful expression, he really wanted to show you the place didn’t he? Your gut tugged and the feeling that you shouldn’t go filled the pit of your stomach. You should listen to your intuition when it tells you not to do something but you were never one to always follow the rules. Slowly, you felt your resolve crumbling as you slowly nodded your head in answer. Ignorance is bliss, you’ll let them be unaware for a little longer until you figure out how to rip off the band-aid and tell them.

Steven pumps his fist into the air in excitement and you couldn’t help but let the corner of your lips tilt upwards.

“Okay,” You say. He bounces on the balls of his feet as he holds the container to his chest. “I’ll go only if we stop by your place and we get the taser I left there.” 

“Deal.” He grins as he walks backwards a couple of steps before he gestures for you to follow him, “C��mon we gotta leave now to get the best seats.” and despite your gut telling you not to go, you followed him.

Steven Grant the vegan took you to a steakhouse. It had indoor and outdoor seating, but the ones that were available for you to sit down almost right away were outdoors. It was a warm summer evening, the sun was about to set in about an hour and the heat was beginning to cool down. Through the small lobby of the restaurant you felt the air conditioning blow onto your skin, so you immediately understood that the only seating available was outdoors because everyone else filled up the booths and tables in the air conditioning room. You sat a bit anxiously across from Steven as a waitress dressed in a button down shirt and black vest gave the two of you your menus. Your taser that you tucked into the waistband of your jeans and hid underneath your shirt dug into your ribs until you adjusted it so it was still concealed and not making you uncomfortable.

The vibe you were getting from the decorated building, couples dressed to the nines sitting around you, and the well dressed employees were that this place was expensive. Steven gave you an encouraging smile as he pulled out his reading glasses from his coat pocket and placed them on his face before he opened up his menu and began to search through it. You were a bit hesitant to open the fancy looking menu, but once you did you relaxed a bit  at the prices. Most of the expensive items were hard to pronounce wine and steak, both of which you weren’t going to order. You scanned through the appetizers, hoping to find something cheap and filling on it but there wasn’t much besides bread rolls. You flipped over to the pastas and soups, before you decided on ordering the nearly thirteen pounds lentil soup. It would roughly cost fifteen American dollars. It better be some damn good soup. 

You toyed with the corner of the menu as Steven flipped his closed and removed his reading glasses from his face and onto his head. You couldn’t help but smile at the sight. He was such an old man despite his claims of being too young to be called old. 

“What?” He asks at the sight of your smile. “Do I have something on my face?” He brought his hand up and lightly scrubbed around his mouth before glancing at the water glass. You assumed that Marc was checking the body for any possible food crumbs or stains around his mouth. You shake your head, the smile still resting on your face. 

“No,” You say. “I was just thinking about how old you are.”

“I’m not that old.” Steven defends himself as he looks at you. He tried to look stern but the expression failed with his puppy dog eyes. You breathe out a laugh at the sight. 

“Right,” You say, your smile turning into a grin. “And I’m not your neighbor.”

“No, really. I’m only thirty-eight.” He says, he leans forward a bit and you notice the twinkle that appears whenever he was about to spill some facts was in his eye. “Did you know that if I were to die they would call it an untimely death simply because I am below the age of seventy five?” You didn’t know that. “The average death age for ancient Egypt was the early fifties. They would spend most of their life building and worshiping their Gods and Goddesses.” 

.You open your mouth to ask him about more but the waiter returns and takes your order. You watch Steven as he pats his coat pocket before glancing at you with a sheepish look. 

“I’m afraid I misplaced my glasses…” He mumbles and you couldn’t help but giggle as you tell him to check his head. He reached up and was slightly surprised to find the frames resting on his scalp. Without missing a beat, he flips through the menu and finds what he was planning to order before handing the menu to the waitress. 

“I think you should retract your statement that you’re not old.” You say once the waitress walked away. 

“People misplace stuff all the time. Haven’t you walked into a room and immediately forgotten what you were looking for?”

“Oh yeah, probably a handful of times.” You admit. “But, did you notice the thing that you did?”

He scrunches his brows, “What thing?”

“You needed to use your reading glasses to see what you wanted to order.” 

“Well, yeah, I needed to see what I was reading.”

“After you already read what you wanted to order?” You ask and he stares at you. You were grinning at his silence. “Sounds like you couldn’t remember what you wanted a few minutes ago. You’re old, Steven.”

“Oh, sod off.” He says and you laugh loudly at his statement. He leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest as he listens to the noise that sounds like bells to him. You were wiping the tears from the corners of your eyes by the end of your laughter. 

“Does it really bother you that I’m calling you old?” You genuinely ask. He sighs. 

“I mean…no, but also yes.” He says, “I don’t mind you calling me old because I know that you’re only joking. But, it reminds me that I am getting old and I haven’t had any proper life experience yet.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“I haven’t gotten married or dated. I only got to travel once and it's because of the trip to Cairo. I’m turning thirty-nine next year and then the year after that I’ll be forty. I don’t have much life experience.” You get what he was saying, you’ve been there too many times to keep track of. Steven Grant was upset that he hasn’t got to do much in his life and he probably feels like he’s been wasting it. You don’t know how long Steven has been active, but you figured that it had to be awhile. 

“Well, you got the rest of your life to make up for what you haven’t done.” You say, “I think it’s pretty cool of you to do what you did in Cairo.” You glance around at the other tables to make sure that nobody was eavesdropping on you. You still decided to keep the men's history of being Moon Knight vague when you’re having a conversation about it in public. You don’t want people to give you weird looks or Harrows cult any information about the men.

“I know...” He sighs and you press your lips together. “I have roughly the next forty years of my life give or take to do something fun.”

“Take a vacation to Egypt,” You smile. “I mean, after all you both deserve a trip, right?” You could imagine seeing Stevens awed expression at the sights of the pyramids and the culture. His brown eyes wide as he takes in the sights of the world around him. He would be absolutely floored if he actually had the time to explore more of the continent. You’re sure that Marc would be willing to let Steven take the driver's seat for the trip just so his alter could experience something more than the museum and the one trip to Cairo. You weren’t sure about the third alter, would they let Marc and Steven front once the men found out about them? Or would they be willing to come to an agreement on sharing the body?

You still felt guilty about not telling them about the real reason Khonshu lingers. 

“Where do you want to go?” Steven asks, snapping you out of your thoughts. You turn your head to face him. 

“Oh…Iceland during the summer when the sun doesn’t set.” You answer, “But that’s not going to happen.”

“Why not?”

“Passport issues.” You state. “It was already difficult getting a passport in America. I’m afraid that someone would look too closely, y’know?” Steven slowly nods his head. At the moment, the waitress returns with a plate of fettuccine and a decently sized bowl of soup with a basket of bread rolls. You thank her before she leaves and you dig into your soup. It was good, but you definitely wouldn’t pay fifteen dollars for it. 

You don’t know how long the two of you sat as you both enjoyed your meals. You only know that you were a few bites into eating when Steven suddenly says, “It’s not healthy to hang out with old blokes all the time.” You look at him with a confused stare. Why was this coming up now? He doesn’t look at you as he pushes around his pasta for a couple of moments before stabbing the noodles with his fork and placing it into his mouth. You watch him chew the food before he respectfully covers his mouth with his hand and speaks around the pasta, “You should go out and look for someone your age to spend time with.” 

“I don’t know if you noticed or not but it’s kind of hard to look for friends my age when everyone thinks I’m eighteen.” You state. “Besides, you and Marc only have two friends. One being your ex-wife and the other being a teenager. So, if anything you should look for friends closer to your age.” You scoop up some of your soup and place it into your mouth. When you looked at him he seemed a little surprised and, if you squint, embarrassed. You supposed you would be too if you were to realize that you only had two friends who were exactly like that.

“So, we’re friends then?” He asks a little nervously. You scoop up another spoonful and eat it. You thought you and Steven were on the same page of being friends, of course you guessed wrong.

“I sure hope so.” You say, “You’ve been inviting me over for dinner the past month and a half and you let me stay the night for the majority of the time.” You pause, “You should get friends your own age, Steven. You’re talking to a teenager right now.” You laugh a little at that before scooping up another spoonful of your soup and Steven stabs into his pasta. You look up at the sky, the bright blue was slowly changing into a soft orange. Soon the sun would set and the moon would be high in the sky, Khonshu is probably going to want his avatar as soon as the moon appears. You still didn’t know how to break the news to them. They just got out of being the gods' avatar a little over a month ago and now they’re going to have their own realization that they were never free. You knew that you were hurting them by withholding this information but unfortunately there’s no guidebook on how to tell someone this. The soup you were enjoying now tasted bitter in your mouth. Steven bought you dinner and you can’t even tell them the truth. 

“How are you all doing?” The waitress asks. You glance at her with your mouth full. They always seemed to come at the worst time. 

“We’re good, thank you.” Steven says as you gave the female a thumbs up since you were still eating. The waitress looks between the two of you with a soft smile on her face. You think that she’s going to try to flirt with Steven, but you were wrong.

“I think it’s adorable that you are on a father and child date.” The woman says. Your chewing slowed and you shifted your gaze to Steven who looked flustered at the statement. His cheeks were heated red in embarrassment. It’s not like you could correct her and tell her that you aren’t his kid, it’s even more weird to tell her that you’re a teenager hanging out with the old man that you only knew for a little over a month. You swallowed your food. At least she didn’t think you were his sugar baby.

“Thanks,” You manage to say. “It’s my dad's fiftieth birthday.” Steven glares at you from across the table and you feel a smile stretching across your face.

“Fifty?” She gives Steven a double take. He looked flustered. “He doesn’t look like he's fifty.” You analyze her face for a moment, your mouth making the shape of a small O. She was interested in Steven. You look at her nametag, her name was Ashley. She looked to be in her early thirties, her hair was professionally tied up into a bun and she wore a pair of black slacks with comfortable sneakers. Ashley could be Stevens girlfriend if she was into dating dilfs. 

“It’s the skincare routine he does every morning.” You say. “Listen, my dad is a little shy. He, uh, gets quiet when beautiful women such as yourself are around.” You feel something hit your leg and you inhale a sharp breath at the sudden impact. You shoot a glare at Steven and he glares at you back before giving Ashley a reassuring smile. He just kicked you. You continue, “He thinks that you are beautiful and that, uh, words can’t describe your beauty…” You groaned out at another swift impact to your leg, you knew that you were going to have a bruise on your calves tomorrow. Ashley shifts awkwardly next to you before she holds up her left hand and you notice the small rock resting on her ring finger. 

“I’m married…” She says. You look at Steven and he had his face hidden in his hands. 

“Oof, okay.” You say, “I am so sorry about that…” 

“Check please…” Steven weakly says and Ashley nods swiftly before turning on her heel and getting the hell away from the two of you. You lean back in your seat as Steven slowly removes his hands from his face, his brown eyes were hard as he looked angrily at you. 

“I don’t need a girlfriend,” He spat. “And I don’t need help getting one.”

“But you do need friends your own age.” You answer while reaching down and rubbing your leg. “We just had this conversation.”

“I don’t need a bloody teenager helping me get a friend.” He says, “It’s embarrassing.” You remove your hand from your leg and pick up your spoon, you push around your soup with the utensil as you think of what to say. Perhaps you crossed over a boundary that you didn’t realize that it existed. You should have guessed that messing with possible relationships and teasing could have been a boundary. Besides that, it must be awful for Steven getting a new friend through a teenager rather than on his own. If your mom did that to you because you needed a friend, you would be embarrassed too. 

“I’m sorry,” You say. “I didn’t think that far…” Everything that you’ve been doing lately has been making you feel bad. Withholding information from the men, ghosting the men for a few days, and stepping over a line with Steven. You felt guilty, you didn’t mean to make him feel upset

“I know.” Steven replies. You push around your soup more and awkward silence settles between you as Ashley returns with the check, a couple of complimentary mints, and two paper containers for the remaining food. As soon as she left, Steven spoke, “Marc says that he’s going to invite Layla over to talk about what happened.” You don’t bother mentioning that you already met her through your mutual panic and worry for the men. You carefully scrape your remaining soup into your container and wrap some of the bread with your napkins. This will be an okay meal for tomorrow's breakfast or lunch. You weren’t complaining about the leftovers since it's something other than toast.

After a couple of minutes pass you ask, “Is he okay?” Steven looks at you with confusion. 

“What do you mean?”

“It’s just…Marc hasn’t fronted since you both found out about the other one.” You were concerned that Marc was punishing himself through the lack of communication between the two of you. It seemed like a Marc thing to do since he didn’t know how to deal with his emotions well.

“He’s fine,” Steven says as he looks at his water glass. You figured Marc was grumbling something about not needing a kid to worry for him and the thought made you smile a bit. He adds, “I’m going to go pay and then I’ll head home, alright?” You nod as he scoots back his chair and takes the check with him inside to pay. You neatly stack the dirty dishes before reaching for one of the mints and unwrapping it from its plastic and popping it into your mouth. You felt terrible that you upset Steven. It was clear that you really did step over a line and he wasn’t happy about it. You sucked on your mint, fighting the urge to bite down and smash it with your teeth so you could chew it instead. 

Steven returned within minutes, he looked a little happier as he walked towards your table. You push your chair back and grab your to-go box. Perhaps he just needed a couple of minutes to deflate, sometimes you get overstimulated and need a few minutes to yourself. He takes the box from you and picks up his own. 

“Did you like the food?” He asks you as the two of you walk in the direction of your bus stop. 

“It was good,” You say with a nod of your head. “I liked it a lot. Thank you for buying dinner.” You bump your shoulder into his arm. “I owe you guys a lot.”

“Hush up, you don’t owe us anything.” Steven says. He sends a small smile into your direction. Silence settles between you and that knot in your gut tightens. You frown at the feeling as you chalked it up to guilt or the food settling within you. You should apologize to Steven to let him know how sorry you are. You would feel terrible if someone tried to set up a friendship and it failed like it did to you. You can’t imagine how Steven feels right now. 

“I really am sorry,” You say. “I didn’t mean to overstep…”

“It’s alright.” He says, you frown and you stop in your tracks. Your sudden freeze made Steven stop and look at you. 

“It’s not and you should stop telling people that it’s okay when it’s not.” You say. “I was in the wrong and it’s okay to be like, ‘hey, I didn’t like what you did and I feel like you crossed a line.’ Y’know? Also, it's cool for you to be upset that I just avoided you guys for several days. I should have handled that differently and I feel like absolute shit for it. I am so sorry that happened. I-I didn’t know what to fucking do. They told me to avoid you and to move away; and I thought about doing that. Just straight up ghosting you like I did with my family and- oh god- they’re not going to forgive me-”

He cuts off your rambling by saying your name gently and stepping towards you. He carefully puts one of his hands on your shoulders which causes you to look at him through your teary eyes, “It’s okay. I forgive you.” You didn’t know you were crying until the tears were running down your cheeks. He gives you a soft smile and you wipe away the tears from your eyes. Your family and best friend was never going to forgive you if they ever found out you were alive. You planned on them never finding out, but you heard stories of presumed dead people being found alive twenty years later. Kind of like the running joke that all absent fathers went out for milk and never returned. You didn’t want to be one of those stories. What if your best friend decides to one day travel to London for her vacation and she finds you behind the counter at your job? Or your cousin does the same thing? 

What would you tell them? That you went out for milk on another continent? Your best friend would have a field-day on that one. And another thing, you were always worried and crying since you met your neighbors. When was that going to stop? Or was the moment that you were saved in the alley the moment you were doomed to be forever crying and anxious? Perhaps it was puberty. You gave Steven a wobbly smile and he gently wipes the tears from underneath your eye with his thumb. 

“Are you okay, dove?” He asks. The question nearly made you cry again. You slowly nod and you reach up and knit your finger between his own. 

You only spoke once you were sure that your voice wouldn’t crack, “I should be asking you that.” His soft smile turned into one of pity and you didn’t like it one bit. You didn’t want to be pitied. You were the one who put yourself into this position. Nobody forced you to alternate government papers and move over a thousand miles to a new country. You did this to yourself and you didn’t need his pity. 

“Why don’t you tell me something about the stars?” The American accent caught you off guard. You stare at Marc, he stood a little awkwardly and anxiously in front of you as he held a bit tighter onto the containers. You trailed your gaze to your hands that were knitted together and slowly removed your hand from his. You didn’t know if he was okay with holding your hands like Steven was. You didn’t want to make him uncomfortable in any way. 

“You want me to tell you something about the stars?” You ask. You felt a little confused about why he would suddenly front and ask that. Perhaps Steven needed a break from you, you would completely understand that.

“Or space.” He adds, “Talk to me about anything that interests you on the way home.” He walks a couple steps backwards. You force yourself to get unrooted from your spot and follow him. You were grasping what he was doing, you used to do it for your best friend all the time. He was trying to distract you from whatever it was you were feeling and going through. The action alone made your heart ping and you almost began to cry again. You really don’t deserve the kindness of these men after this week. 

“Okay,” You breathe out as you walk beside him. “So, um, there are millions of stars, right? And planet Earth has the same sets of constellations. So, if we have constellations, Jupiter and Mars and all the other planets in our solar system must have constellations, right? And for some reason we automatically think that they must have different constellations than Earth. But that’s wrong. We all share the same constellations. The only difference is that the sky’s orientations would be different on other planets. So, if you were on Mars, you would probably see the Big Dipper sideways instead of looking like the usual cooking pot that we see on Earth. Y’know, with the handle sticking right-side up instead of how we see it horizontally.”

You pause to collect your thoughts before continuing, “If we were to ever colonize Mars, well once the rich do first, of course. But, if humans were to ever move to the planet, we would see the stars in a whole different way. Kind of like that saying, ‘the grass is greener on the other side,’ but, the grass is the same grass just from a different angle. We would see the same constellations a little differently. Also, the universe is always expanding- oof-” You say as Marc's left arm whips out in front of you and you run right into it. You breathe out a bit harshly due to the impact of your torso running into his arm as you look ahead to see why he suddenly stopped you.

You were so deep into your nerdy rant that you failed to notice that the same two men from the bus and three other people stood in front of you. You curse yourself out for getting distracted, you really should have been more aware especially after this week. You couldn’t see the three other people's faces well because of the ski masks they wore, although you almost immediately noticed their matching tattoos of the scale. They were brave enough to show the symbol on their arms but not enough to show their faces. 

“What the fuck?” You whisper underneath your breath. Marc's arm blocked you from moving forward. His hand curls back and his fingertips brush against the left side of your waist before he completely presses his palm into your side and pushes you slightly behind him. He takes a step to his left to help block you from the view of the members; but you knew that it was already too late, they already saw you so they knew that you were there. You should have listened to that feeling in your gut. You bet that it was warning you not to go out, and of course you decided to be a dumbass and ignore it. You reach up and wrap your fingers into Marc's shirt to have some form of comfort as you peeked around his arm and to the people who stood menacingly a few feet away from the two of you. 

You inhaled deeply, the scent of the men's laundry detergent and deodorant filled your nostrils. The cloth of Marc's shirt felt soft between your fingertips. You felt bile rise into your throat as your stomach churned. You just knew by the sight of the five people blocking your path to the bus stop that one of two things were going to happen tonight. One: You were going to get beat up;  or two: You were going to be killed. Probably for some sacrificial shit since they were oh so interested in releasing or raising Ammit. You still didn’t know if the goddess was gone for good but clearly, they must have found some batshit crazy way to have Ammit come back. Because why else would a cult still be together after their leader was killed?

Your heart pounded against your chest and you felt like you were going to throw up. Sweat began to dot your forehead and armpits as you nervously hid behind Marc. You should have stayed home. You should have convinced Steven to order takeout. You should have convinced them both that you could be the one cooking tonight rather than them. Sweat began to make your palms sweaty and your legs to shake. You were positive that you were going to die tonight and if Marc and Steven survived you were sure that they would blame themselves. Your mouth became dry as you struggled not to let your bile go into your mouth otherwise you knew that you would vomit. It was a bad choice to go out. You should have paid attention to the bad luck of this week and applied it to today. 

Your taser dug into your ribs as you took another breath to help steady yourself. You placed your hand on it as Marc says, “You're cornering kids now, huh?” He sounded pissed. You couldn’t see his face from where you were hiding behind him, but you imagined that his eyes were narrowed and glaring at the five people in front of you. From how he held himself by standing up straight you could tell that he was tense. His feet planted onto the sidewalk and his hands curled into fists. You weren’t an expert at body language but from the action movies you watched, you knew that he was expecting them to attack him. You also figured that because why the hell else would five cult members block your path?

You let go of Marc's shirt and pulled out the taser from your waistband and quickly rolled it around in your hands as you searched for the switch that would turn it on. You stare down at it with your heart pounding in your ears as your trembling fingers flick on the switch and your thumb lightly lands on the button that would tase once you press down on it.

“Steven,” Marc hisses underneath his breath. “Just shut up and let me focus.” You release a shaky breath as you try to prepare yourself to fight for your own life or to run if Marc demands it. God, you should be doing the latter. Marc has military experience and the history of being an avatar, while you had zero experience in defending and fighting other than watching action scenes in movies. You didn’t want to leave him, that didn’t feel right in this situation although you knew that he could handle himself. Your mind was awful to you, one day you’re thinking of ghosting these men and the next you’re about to be killed because your mind feels too guilty to leave for your own safety. Really, just choose a goddamn side, brain. 

 You bite your lip until you taste metal and that alone almost made you release all the bodily fluids that were fighting to enter into your mouth. Your hands were shaking as you peeked around Marc. One of the bald men from the bus took a step forward and the others didn’t hesitate to follow. They really worked together like they were in a pack of coyotes, didn’t they? 

You screeched as you felt something wrap around your waist and pull you away from Marc. He whips his head around, his eyes wide and curls bouncing against his forehead. You felt a panic bubble in your stomach and you nearly lost the vomit that you’ve been struggling to hold back. Marc looked absolutely pissed. You stare down at the arm wrapped around you and internally swear at the universe for putting you in this life. Marc took a step towards you, his fists curled and arm pulled back to attack whoever was taking you away. You kick your legs, your heels hit the shin of the person as you scream loudly, hoping that any passerby's would step in and do something. 

Unfortunately, this wasn’t a busy street. You point your taser onto the tan arm of the person and press down on the button. The weapon buzzed in your hand as they yelled in pain and surprise and immediately they dropped you. The sudden drop almost made you stumble as you stood back on your own two feet and swiveled on your heels to see who tried to kidnap you. They were taller than you and obviously male by the build, he wore a ski mask and had the same visible tattoo of the other five behind you. The sound of skin hitting skin and the groans of pain behind you was the only sound you heard besides the blood pounding in your ear. 

Your nose stung and you knew that you were going to cry, despite not wanting to in front of these people. Your legs shook like jello as you watched the man’s brown eyes glare harshly at you. Your lip wobbled and you tried to plant your feet onto the ground like Marc was doing moments ago. You sucked in a breath of cool air between your teeth as the man took seemingly slow steps towards you as if you were a wild animal and he didn’t want to scare you. You weren’t sure if your brain was making it seem slow or not but you sure as hell felt your heart pounding against your chest.

You fought the urge to take a step back as he rolled up both of his sleeves more to keep them from slipping down his arms. Marc grunted behind you and you heard him inhale his breath harshly. The urge was getting more difficult to fight as he got closer and he cracked his knuckles. You didn’t know what the fuck they wanted from you and your neighbors, but it was apparently enough to stalk you and try to kidnap you on a public street. You were too busy being terrified of what’s to come between you and this man that you were a thousand percent sure was your soon to be murderer, that you didn’t realize the prongs of your taser pressed into your arm and you accidently pushed on the button of it. You yelled out in pain and out of reflexes, you dropped the taser to the sidewalk. 

“Fucking hell,” You groan as you clutched your hurt arm with your hand. You hiss out at the stinging of your arm and the feeling of your muscles spasming in the limb. Holy fucking shit. Your opponent laughed a little, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he closed the distance between you. Honestly, it was comedic that you would fuck yourself over in a fight for your life. It was close to being the cherry on top of this week and this past year. He pulled back his arm and punched you right in the face. You fell backwards at the impact of his fist meeting your skull and you harshly landed on the gravel below. 

The remaining oxygen in your lungs left quickly as you blinked at the brick wall of the building across from you. Slowly, you turned your head, your cheek stinging and your head pounding as you looked at the night sky above you. The clouds clear away from the moon and the light shines down upon you like a spotlight. You couldn’t help but wonder if Khonshu was watching this play out from a distance. You wouldn’t be surprised if he was. You bet that he would rather watch you die than to save you despite his title to protect the travelers of the night. The world around you spun as you finally managed to catch your breath, you were sure that you had hit your head hard enough to need stitches but that thought went away as soon as you saw the man that punched you stand directly above you. 

He bent down and grabbed you by your shirt collar, easily lifting you off of the ground as he began to drag you away from the fight Marc was still in. Your hands wrapped around his wrist, your fingers barely able to touch each other with how large his arm was. You tried to push him away as your tailbone and legs dragged along the pavement. 

“Marc!” You yell, your voice shaking as you struggle to get him to release you. The man glared down at you, mumbling something incoherent as he stopped in his tracks and peeled back his right arm. He was going to punch you again and this time you weren’t sure if you would wake up. You scream for Marc, your voice cracking towards the end of it and tears begin to leak out of the corners of your eyes. The man's fist heads straight for your face and you close your eyes, hoping that it would either knock you out so you wouldn’t have to deal with the pain of being hit or that it wouldn’t so you still had a chance to get away. 

You fell backwards, the tension of his arm keeping your upper body off the ground lessened but you could still feel the grip he had on the collar of your shirt. Something warm sprayed your face and you tasted metal on your lips. The man screaming caused you to open your eyes. The sight before you made you scream, there attached to your shirt with blood squirting out of it was an arm. You pushed it off of you, struggling to get it to let go of your shirt as you gasped and screamed. Once you did, you scrambled backwards, feeling the warm liquid of the man's blood soak into your clothing and wet your skin. Your back hit the brick wall and you stared with wide, terrified eyes at the limb before you managed to peel your gaze away and to the man the arm belonged to. 

He held onto his squirting arm, screaming and yelling at the sight as he stumbled away from the person who must have done it. Not too far from him was someone holding onto a bloody dagger. They were dressed in a white cloak and white boots, they didn’t hesitate to step forward towards the man and slice his throat. Your own closed in on you and you found it difficult to breathe as you watched the armless man hold onto his own throat and blood geysered onto the road. He dropped to his knees before he fell forward limply onto his chest and dragged his face across the pavement. 

Your chest rose and fell quickly, you brought your knees up to your chest and you closed your eyes tightly. Oh god, this had to be a fucked up dream. This had to be a fucked up dream. Oh fuck. Oh shit. You pressed your bloody palms into your eyes until spots appeared in the darkness of your vision. You felt like you were underwater, you couldn’t get any air into your lungs, and the taste of the metal on your tongue and lips made it so much worse. Your mouth parted as a shaky sob left you. Your face felt hot and red, tears streamed down your cheeks as you heard soft footsteps approach you. You were shaking badly, almost as close to a leaf in a windstorm. 

“Hey,” you heard the voice before you felt his gloved hands touch your face. You pushed his hands away and screamed. Your eyes snapping open as he catches your hands with his own and holds onto them. You tried to push yourself away from him further, but the brick wall behind you didn’t let you budge.

“It’s me. You’re fine, you’re okay. It’s only me.” He says. His accent was from somewhere in New York. You tug your hands out of his grip as black spots appear in your vision. Oh fuck, you were going to pass out. You tried to fold in on yourself, your thighs pressed into your torso and your arms wrapped around your knees. The front of his suit was white with a big crescent moon and the area where his face should have been was completely black except for his eyes which were white and had small glowing crescents in them. The sight of his suit disappearing off of his body, revealing the same outfit Steven was wearing when he left his apartment with you would have brought you some small amount of comfort if it didn’t mean that the third alter was crouched in front of you. 

Fuck. Fuck. Shit. You thought as you struggled to calm yourself down. Fucking fuck. You sobbed as he sat down into a crisscross position. 

“C’mon,” He says and holds out his hand for you to willingly take. “Inhale with me.” A whimper leaves you and he continues to hold his hand out. If it wasn’t for the metallic smell, you would have tried to trick yourself that it rained and you were soaked. You don’t know how long you sat in someone's pool of blood as you tried to calm yourself down on your own before you finally took his hand. He slowly brought your hand to his chest and placed it so your palm was touching his shirt. 

“Breathe with me,” He says. He inhales, his shoulders and chest rising and you try to copy his actions. All you could smell was the blood and taste the pennies and salty tears on your tongue. You wanted to go home. The alter says your name gently, as if he was trying to talk you off the edge of a cliff. The black spots in your vision lessened and another sob leaves you. You wanted your mom. You wanted her hugs and her promises that everything will be alright  and that you’re safe. But, you’re never going to have that despite how much you longed for it.

“I want my mom,” You sob out. You didn’t care that you were crying in front of them. Nothing mattered. This alter saved you from the fate of wherever that man was going to take you to and now they’re going to kill you. 

“I want my mommy.” You cry. You don’t remember the last time you called her that, perhaps you were in elementary school. It didn’t matter. You feel the air fill your lungs and rest in your body for a moment before you slowly release it. The spinning of your head slowed and the black spots disappeared completely. The alter lets go of your hand and you bring it back to your chest, the blood was still warm and you felt nauseous. 

You were going to throw up. The bile rose into your throat and you turned to the side as you released the contents of your dinner. It tasted good when you first ate it and now it tastes awful. Your throat burns and your mouth tastes gross. Your cheek still stings and you knew that if you survive the night that you would have a bruise tomorrow. You sat back once you felt like you were no longer going to upchuck whatever remains of your dinner. His eyes burned into your face and a small frown forms on his own features. 

“You didn��t get too badly injured did you?” His eyes briefly scan your body and you nearly wilt underneath his gaze. 

“Why the fuck would you care since you’re going to kill me?” You say. You sounded emotionless to your own ears. It didn’t sound like it came from you. You guess that it didn’t matter if it actually came from you. You add,  “I told them about you. I didn’t know what else to do.” He stares down at his lap, his fingers playing with a loose thread of Stevens shirt. “I…I couldn’t just leave them.” The words don’t really register with you, you’re not completely sure what is leaving your mouth or you’re thinking. It doesn’t matter, they’re going to kill you. 

“They have no problem leaving you.” He says as he lets go of the thread and moves his attention to you. He stares into your eyes, his brown eyes weren’t soft like Stevens or hard like Marcs, but it was a worse type of harsh gaze. It was the brutal truth that rested in his eyes that Marc hid from you. 

“Marc divorced his wife to protect her from Khonshu. He would leave you too. He wouldn’t hesitate to ghost you like you did to your family.” He spits out. “You think Marc cares enough to stick around for your own childish needs and wants? You’re a dumbass. He will leave you, get it through your thick fucking skull. Stay the hell away from them. It’s for your own safety and theirs.” 

“Their safety?” You scoff, “I wouldn’t fucking harm a god damn hair on their head.” You can’t even hold a god-damn taser right. 

“You say that, but when you have Harrow's cult putting a gun to your head, you will not hesitate to hurt them.” He replies, “Besides that, it will hurt them when you die.” 

You decide to ignore the last part, “You told me that last time, but look where the hell we ended up.” You don’t look at the bodies of the people, but rather gesture in their direction with your bloody hands. “These people with those god-damn tattoos are following me. You think I’m going to be better off on my own in Brighton? The fuck I am.” He breathes out roughly before he picks up a rock next to him and throws it right above you. You flinch as you hear glass shattering and the feeling of sharp edges falling onto you and cutting small bits on your neck. He stands up, clutching another rock and throwing it at another window. You sat as still as you could with wide eyes. His chest rose and fell as he glared at the broken windows. Your lip trembled, you hugged your knees closer to your torso as you ignored the small cuts of blood running down the back of your neck. You weren’t sure if you should speak, especially if the conversation you were having upset him enough to vandalize a shop window.

You weren’t sure where to hold your gaze. You didn’t want to look down at your lap and see the blood staining your clothes and the pool of it you’re sitting in along with the vomit next to you. You also didn’t want to look up the street and see the pile of bodies that the alter left behind; and you didn’t want to look down the street and see the armless man that bled out to death. 

Your voice was quiet as you spoke, “What…what did you do that for?” He turns his glare to you and his lips curl into a snarl. 

“Marc and Steven wouldn’t fucking shut up.” He angrily states. “They’re too fucking worried about you that they won’t let me fucking think. Hijo de puta.” You bite your wobbly lip as more tears threaten to spill over your cheeks. He says in a gruff voice, “C’mon.” 

“What? Where are you taking me?” You say. “Are you going to kill me?”

“Did nothing I say go through the thick ass skull of yours?” He says with an incredulous look. “You die and it will ruin them.” He says the words slowly as if you had to process every syllable of the sentence. You swallow. You didn’t want to accept that no matter how truthfully bitter it sounded.

He adds, "You think I’m going to leave you here? I’m taking you home. Get up.” With trembling hands, you push yourself off of the ground. The sound of your feet splashing in the puddle of blood you were sitting in was the only noise between the two of you. You kept your eyes downcast as you took careful steps to begin your walk home. There was no way that you could hail a taxi or call an uber without getting an ambulance and police called on you. 

“Here,” He says and shoves Stevens' jacket into your arms. “Wear this and zip it up.” You don’t speak, but rather do what he says. The smell of the jacket brings you semi-comfort, but not as much as Stevens' presence would. He would probably be fretting over you and having a breakdown right alongside you. You would be still sitting in that spot with Steven probably until the sun rose and the streets become busy once more.

“If you’re not going to kill me…and you’re going to be fronting from now on, I think I should know your name.” You say. You stop in your tracks and feel a rush of nausea as your eyes land on the arm with the tattoo of the scale. The tendons, muscles, and bone were cut cleanly, not an ounce of struggle was shown in the action of it. The arm was still wet with blood and there was a pool around it. The tattoo was splattered with red and it was highlighted by the moonlight. 

“The less you know about me the better..” He trails off and the blood pounds in your ears as your legs shake. God, you can’t do this. You jumped and let out a screech as you felt something touch your hand. You pulled your hand away and whipped your terrified eyes to the face of your neighbor. He stares at you, lips pressed into a thin line. It's hard to see what was going on behind those brown eyes of his. Your heart-beat felt like it was doing jump ropes and hitting your sternum as hard as it could. Your stomach churned, you didn’t think you had anything left to throw up. 

“I don’t think I can do this,” You whisper more to yourself than to him. You hold your hand to your chest, feeling the dampness of your shirt underneath your palm and stick to your skin. He doesn’t reply, but rather he takes a deep breath and pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers. Slowly, he exhales the breath and his shoulders fall with it. 

He says, “I think we’re past that stage of the less you know, the better you’re off.” He holds out his hand, “The name’s Jake Lockley.” You swallow and you put your hand into his, he shakes your hand once while he says your name. 

“Close your eyes. I’ll guide you through.” You stare at him with wide, childish eyes and slowly and a bit hesitatingly you close them. He would have killed you already if he wanted to. He wouldn’t talk you down from a panic attack if he was going to kill you. You had to trust him. He didn’t let go of your hand until you were around the corner and you could no longer see the bodies of the cult members he killed.

---

Taglist: @letugulus, @only-roaches, @jvdethirlwall , @xennityxen, @astrobuzzsstuff, @nub-the-stub, @em-asian, @yawn0-0

[hawks-supremacy]

could i possibly request an imagine where you’re tsukki’s gf and your love lang is physical touch but his isn’t which leads to an argument of him calling you clingy or whatever. then he like gets jealous when you touch someone else or something along those lines. thank u 🥺

absolutely I can. this is my second time writing for tsukishima so if it's out of character or anything I'm sorry. hope you like it though!

warnings: swearing, angst, there's a mini fight

word count: 1.1k

It had been a while since you and Tsukishima had started dating and it was going great so far. You understood that he didn’t particularly like pda so you kept it to a minimum, usually just walking close enough to be able to feel his presence or holding his sleeve. It was hard for you sometimes, any of your friends or basically anyone with eyes could tell that your love language was physical touch.

Behind closed doors Tsuki was a little bit better with it but it still seemed like he wanted nothing to do with you. You’d try to hold his hand while watching a movie and he would let you some of the time but he mostly moved his hand away from yours. You’d try and hug him and he’d avoid you or just pat your head. Every time he avoided you it stung just a little bit, like someone was lightly poking your heart with a needle but never hard enough to puncture it.

You and Tsuki were spending the weekend together at his house watching movies and occasionally studying here and there. You both decided that the week had been a bit stressful and maybe this could help a little. You were in the middle of a movie when you felt like holding Tsuki’s hand, maybe if he was willing a little bit of cuddling but you highly doubted that one.

You went to reach for Tsuki’s hand when he pulled it away and you tried again, ”Cut it out and watch the movie.” You huffed and crossed your arms moving to the opposite corner of the couch you were sitting on, “Oh come on now you’re gonna pout? What are you, a child?”

You scoffed, giving him a look of disbelief, “I’m childish because I’m upset that my boyfriend won’t hold my hand from time to time? You’re ridiculous.” He raised his eyebrows, “I’m ridiculous? It’s not just from time to time you need constant affection and it’s exhausting, you’re exhausting with how clingy you are.” He said and you just sat there, “Not gonna say anything? No fighting back?” You were quiet with your next question, unsure if you even wanted to know the answer, “Do you even like me, Tsukishima?” He was taken back by the full use of his name and caught up in the mini fight you were having to really think through his response, “Maybe I don’t.”

You whispered “Oh okay then.” Mostly to yourself, you’ve never fought and you certainly didn’t think your first fight would lead to him saying he didn’t like you. You silently gathered up your things and went to walk out of the house, pausing at the door. “Come talk to me when you get your head out of your ass.” He didn't say anything or move to stop you as you closed the door to his house and he regretted it. He wished he did, he wished he didn’t say what he said because he knows it isn’t true. He knows he likes you hell he loves you he just hasn’t told you that yet, and he was way too stubborn to tell you any of that. So he let you leave instead.

It had been a few days since you fought and it’s been miserable. Since it was the weekend and you didn’t have school it was easy to avoid him. You spent the rest of the weekend at Yachi’s hanging out and contemplating if the fight was the end of your relationship. He did say he didn’t like you so why would you continue to date? Now it was time for school which meant you could no longer ignore him since you had the same classes. It seemed like you were on the same page when he walked into the classroom and sat behind you without uttering a single word.

The rest of the day went by slowly and quietly until it was time for volleyball practice where Yachi dragged you through the doors because you were reluctant to go. It was spent avoiding Tsuki and being on the opposite side of the gym wherever he was. The team noticed the obvious tension in the room but stayed silent on it. Where you had spent the day avoiding him, Yamaguchi had been trying to convince Tsukishima to do the opposite and actually talk to you, but he had been unsuccessful so far.

Hinata had noticed you were upset much like the others and went to go ask you about it. You had told him that you and Tsuki had a fight and now you weren’t sure where your relationship was. Across the gym Tsuki was ignoring Yams and watching with careful eyes as Hinata hugged you and you hugged him back. Narrowing his eyes he walked across the gym where you were and grabbed your arm dragging you out of the gym as you told him to let go of you.

“What is your deal? You don’t talk to me all weekend and suddenly you have a hair up your ass and need to talk to me?” You asked as soon as he let go of you. “I don’t like where we left things.” He said looking anywhere but you and you raised your eyebrows waiting for him to continue, “I didn’t mean what I said, about not liking you.” You sighed and relaxed your shoulders that feel like they’ve been tensed since the fight, “Then why did you? That hurt you know.” He nodded and stuck his hands in his pockets, “It’s easier to push you away I guess. I’m not good at this, I don’t initiate physical contact because I don’t know how. I don’t know what you’re comfortable with and what you’re not, I don’t even know what I’m comfortable with. I know it’s probably hard to be with me, I’m sorry. I’ll try to be more intimate but I need you to be patient with me please. You aren’t clingy, I'm just complicated.”

You went to reach for him but stopped hesitant with your actions before he made the move to hug you. “Tsuki I’ll always be patient with you but you need to talk to me about these things. I won’t push you too far if you just tell me I crossed a line.” He nodded, holding you closer and tighter, “I love you Y/n.” He mumbled into your hair. “I love you too Kei.”

[melancholysway]

TMNT Requests STEPS & RULES!

To make sure all your needs are met, here is a guide for submitting a request!

STEPS!

First say hello, I will say hi back❤️

Let me know which version of the TMNT you would like! If you enjoyed Guide to Being Their S/O & Friend, request it as a “Free-for-All!” If not, just specify which version :) if you do not specify, I will assume it’s a Free-for-All, meaning that if you requested a long-shot it’ll become a short-shot.

If you would like pronouns specific for you, let me know :) Almost all of my writing includes a gender neutral reader! I try not to use pronouns like she he or they, so those that go by either of those can read as they normally would :) If you’re unsure, leave it to me and I’ll write the request where there are no pronouns of the reader mentioned.

Specify if you would like a “Short-Shot” or a “Long-Shot”

- Short-Shot: a basic list of how each turtle would pertain to the requested headcanon or imagine, an example would be the Guide to Being their S/O &/or Friend headcanons!

- Long-Shot: a short, basic list of how each turtle would pertain to the requested headcanon or imagine, INCLUDING a small one shot (typically around 4 pages on Google Docs or 800-1,200 words long) for each turtle! An example would be the Stressed Out S/O headcanons!

I separated these because I know some people like a short, quick read while others like a longer one that they can take some time to indulge in.

5. Tell me the headcanon/imagine you would like! I’m open for anything, however I would rather not try anything that I may have to put a Trigger Warning for. I’m not comfortable writing for a su*cidal reader or anything of that nature.

6. Send! It’s that easy! I will take some time to do it depending on the time you message me, I usually have free time during the week but this will change once my spring semester in college begins in January. I write little by little throughout the week when I can, but expect it to take around 4 week minimum - 8 week maximum.

NOTICE: if you simply request without mentioning any of the above criteria, your request will be fulfilled by whatever way I feel like writing it. If I find it to be really interesting, you may get a long shot! But it’ll usually just be a short shot.

RULES!

REQUESTING NSFW (Donnie’s Pop-Tart After Dark) If you would like to request NSFW headcanons or imagines, I’ll be doing them on the After Dark blog.

Make sure your request isn’t something that’s already been written by me! My masterlist is pinned on my blog!

If you would like a Free-for-All, it CANNOT also be a Long-Shot!

You do NOT need to tip me for a request, I work for free yall

HOWEVER, if you would like to tip, BY ALL MEANS GO AHEAD IT CAN GO TO MY GAS MONEY

Please don’t spam me about when your request will be done. Good things take time. Working part-time & going to college full-time makes my life 27371727 times more busy, but I am taking the time to write a great fic for you! I’m also a shitty texter so I probably won’t even answer regardless LMAO

⭐️If you submit a request while my box is closed, I will kindly let you know they’re closed, and let you know when they’re back open again for you to fulfill your request. Always check my bio, like I said I’m a shitty texter so I might forget to let you know LMAO

⭐️if I don’t get to your request, it may be because I wasn’t able to write a sufficient amount due to the nature of the request. The more detailed you are in what you want, the easier it is for me to write it & fulfill your needs

⭐️”Melancholy, my request hasnt been fulfilled, it’s been months! Why?!

One of the many reasons why:

1) I did not find any inspiration to write it. As in: I genuinely took the time to try and write something, but did not succeed [note: there is a much higher chance of your request being unfulfilled if you want it to be a long-shot, be specific and follow the steps for the long-shot especially!]

2) You mentioned a different fandom I know nothing about to try and crossover (ex; reader being a wizard from HP or something) sadly I don’t do crossovers. Strictly TMNT only!

2) Your request was extremely vague- I tried to write something, but it didn’t click with me.

3) It includes sensitive topics like self-h*rm, s*icide, d*ath, ED, etc.

4) (for my After Dark blog) you requested TCest or a smut with two or more turtles & the reader. We do NOT do that around here bro LMAO

5) (for my After Dark blog) you requested for the turtle(s) of your choice to be younger, as you may be a minor. I will only write for the OLDER turtles (2007, bay, you get the idea.)

[sweettodo]

Ymir x femreader

Includes : fingering, smut, thigh riding, bath[?]

As requested, it’s unedited; it’s also giving me VERY bare minimum and I’m sorry :( , I’m just writing A LOT. And also, I’m 10 pages deep in my script for shifting; nonetheless, here you go. 

Word count : 994

“Alright scouts, Disperse!"

••

It had been such a long day; cold and frosty winds with some snow only made the day drag longer.

Captain had assigned you and Ymir to partner up. Which wasn't necessarily a bad thing; you and her were close, you two had similar independent and strong willed personalities, and you two liked that about each other, a lot.

As you two walk up the slippery hill, the sky slipping into a rich darkness only making it harder to see what was in front of you, "how much longer Ymir? The others are probably waiting for us." You shiver, rubbing your arms to keep warm, she looked over to you, face covered in a rosy tint.

"They aren't, they're probably huddling to keep warm somewhere." She states, looking in front of her, "light your lantern, we can try to find somewhere warm to stay for the night." She lights the oil lantern, I do the same and it illuminates a few feet in front of us.

"There might be a cave or something around here, Armin always told me there are bound to be areas for shelter." You say, Ymir nods and while we walk, it starts to rain again, cold water making it uncomfortable, clothes sticking to your body. You groan in annoyance, our luck.

Ymir raises her lantern, turning and there's a somewhat large opening near the top of the hill we were walking up, you and her both let out a sigh of relief and you jog to the rock hole, sticking the light source in before to ensure there was no one in there, "finally!" You crawl in, your partner close behind you as you observe everything around you, "moss?" You question, inside the cave?

"There must be a hot spring." Ymir whispers, touching the moss growing on the rocks, you were happy, it was doubtful the others were getting this lucky, "here!" She coaxes, you follow close behind, the walls around you wet and steam dripped down onto the dirt below your feet.

There was in fact a hot spring, steam emitting and you giddily cheer, placing down your lantern; the slightly cozy cave being lit completely from your light sources, it was beautiful, healthy green moss, different sized rocks and the grass patches beneath your feet made it look like a spa, "care to join?" You ask, "we gotta' keep warm anyway." Nudging her shoulder, she tosses off her coat and I start to unbutton my shirt, I toss it over a rock so it can dry, she does the same.

I had never really paid attention to her body, but in this setting you couldn't really ignore her enticing chest, you didn't want to get caught staring so you turn around and pull your boots off, followed by your dirtied up pants, laying them beside your shirt.

You hear Ymir drop down into the water, I clasping your bra you let it fall onto the ground. Turning to face Ymir, you pull your underwear off, tossing it to the side and dipping into the water.

"I doubt Commander expects us tonight, we can keep warm here for the night." She smiles, running her fingers through her hair. You nod and seep further into the bath, extremely grateful, stress leaving your body.

She looks at you and you move closer to her, thinking nothing of it. She sighs happily, her eyes low and seductive per usual, your stomach did flips, you really did like Ymir, "you're so pretty, Ymir." You compliment, she chuckles, blush flying to her face.

"Yeah?" She asks, bringing her face closer to mine, bodies barely touching, you smile, nodding your head, "I think you're pretty too." She hums, a mere centimeters from your face, her hands lingering up the sides of your face; the air leaving your body as you find yourself leaning in to her lips, she does the same and your lips meet.

While your mouths move in sync, she's walking the both of you to the edge of the bath, your back hitting the steamy rocks and you place your hands on her waist, pulling her closer to your chest as you two make out.

Your leg moves forward only a little, falling right between her legs, she lets out a shaky breath, having a harder time reciprocating the kiss from the newly applied pressure to her body. You slowly rock her hips on your thigh, her right hand trailing down your wet chest, grabbing ahold of your boob, massaging your warm body and taking her hand further down.

She takes over, rocking her own hips against your thigh, moaning into the kiss while she is using her two fingers to scissor between your cunt, you pull away from the kiss and throw your head back, she smirks and your hands move in instinct, dragging her body harder against your leg in return. She gasps, your name falling from her mouth as she rides your leg

Her fingers work you, sliding in and out of your cunt, the hot water heightening all your senses as you feel more sensitive; both a moaning mess, both crying out swears or each other’s name. Your stomach tightens, ready to explode into pieces, your mouth falls open into an ‘o’ your head falling into her chest as you convulse under her fingers, your walls clenching around her fingers. You quickly drag your thumb down, finding her bud and rubbing it at a fast pace.

“I-I’m gonna cum! Y/n!” She shouts, head rolling back, you can feel her cunt twitch on your thigh and your hand, talking her through her orgasm, “you’re so gorgeous Ymir.” You purr, her body shaking.

She peels off of you, little pants falling from your mouths as you catch your breath.

The silence was okay, no words needed to be said for what just happened, this was definitely only the beginning for both you and Ymir.

[moltre-s]

Executive Dysfunction & ADHD study tips! 😙 🌷 😘

I’ve collected study tips from myself and others who struggle with studying. Here’s a masterlist of strategies people use to help :) For those curious, #3 is my personal favourite and is probably the main reason I didn’t flunk all of my classes this year. Feel free to add your own!

Sleep, eat, exercise. The basics. Treating my body right helps me keep a routine and makes me less prone to impulsivity. This makes it a little easier for me to do the things I need to do and fight back my executive dysfunction.

Play idle games while working. Anonymous says “I get bored very, very quickly and need constant stimulation, so every time I have to wait for something, I will immediately divert my attention. Having an idle game running helps me not to lose too much focus, so I get more work done as a result.”

Use a tutor. Since I can’t follow self-imposed deadlines, I create external deadlines by booking tutoring appointments. This forces me to make sure I have at least a basic understanding of the material before the session so I know what to go over. Most schools have free peer tutors available, so take advantage (if your school doesn’t, try a study group)! This is a great way to create deadlines you can follow, and it always helps to study with someone who can answer your questions and keep you on task.

Play music. @luminarily says “Sometimes I sit in silence and I get bored of it or I get a song stuck in my head or something. But I have forcibly linked music playlist and actually doing something I need to do so that when I put on music I am automatically forced to do the work I was supposed to do. So it makes the work and the listening more enjoyable both and it’s easier to stay on task… I use unpaid youtube on my phone so I can’t leave the tab or else I can’t listen to music anymore so I can’t go on my phone. And also youtube mobile lets you set watch time timers, so when my music stops I take a break and don’t burn out!”.

Play ambient noise. Similar to #4. I am not stimulated enough when taking notes, reading textbooks, etc., but listening to music can be too much and makes me stressed. I like to play ambient noise (my personal nerdy fave is Slytherin dormitory ambience on Youtube lol). It’s enough to stimulate my brain, but not overpowering to where I get distracted or stressed.

Block out time to do work. @tidal-rose​ says “I find it easy to do stuff by saying ‘I’ll do it tomorrow.’ But I don’t mean the procrastinate-y ‘I’ll do it tomorrow,’ I mean plan to do it tomorrow. Set aside a block of time when you are going to do nothing but the task. …I just realized this sounds like such a neurotypical answer oh gosh. It really does work to hack my executive disfunction”

Have a plan. If I don’t have a straightforward + actionable plan for right when I wake up, I will just do literally nothing all day. I have to know what I’m going to be doing when I wake up, like “shower, be at the library by 10am, and do practise problems there”. If I only have a vague plan like “study chemistry tomorrow” it’s a lot harder for me to do anything.

Start small. It often feels impossible to do even the bare minimum. When I can’t even get myself to write a single sentence of my paper, I try to do even less than that. Literally just open up a Word document. Even just opening up a blank page is a fantastic start, and starting is the hardest part.

Change locations. The longer I sit in one space putting off an assignment and stewing there in my anxiety about it, the harder it is to start. So I move. Even if I just go from my desk to the floor. Sometimes this can change my headspace enough to make it easier to do what I need to.

[scribblingfangirl]

WRITTEN WORDS & WHISPERED WISHES | Julie and The Phantoms - Luke Patterson

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Author’s Note: I wrote this fic for an old fandom of mine and thought I could re-write/re-use it to finally get started on my JaTP bingo card (because my creativity and originality are nowhere to be found) - I hope you enjoy, yet I’m still sorry in advance? (song’s Poet by Bastille but slightly adapted by me)

word count: 1.9k

prompt: ‘Song Fic’ on my @jatpbingo​ bingo card

summary: It took several sleepless nights, days of throwing up and feeling bad and the pressure of cuddling with Luke to finally discover that you were pregnant. 

warnings: teen pregnancy, character death, a very hastly scribbeled down fic idea (this was not beta read (or read over in general) so typos, inconsistent grammar and other faboulous little annoyances (if anyone loves to read my fanfics and would like to volunteer as my beta reader I’ll kiss your feet))

.•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•..•´¯`•.

It had been a few weeks since you, well... since you had seen another room rather than your classrooms and your own four walls. You even missed your kitchen and living room. But especially, you missed the boys' studio. 

Today, however, has been a good day. You had managed to eat properly without feeling sick and were starting to catch up on some shortly due essays, papers and homework assignments, so you wouldn’t need to do them when feeling utterly sick again. 

Luke had come to visit you (or tried to) a few times, needing to use his charm at your door, as you told your parents that you didn’t want him to see you. Your hair was a mess and unkempt, it pained you to stand for a long period of time (so you reduced the times you washed it to a minimum), your eyes had dark circles under them and you were exhausted even if you didn’t do anything the whole day long.

“I brought you food. I know that your fridge only knows like three meals”, he had said once quietly, putting the tray with the steaming meal on your bed, gesturing for you to move a little, so he could sit beside you.

“You mean to say that I and/or my parents only know three meals”, you had coughed laughing and refused to move. You didn’t want him to get sick too. 

“No don’t,” you had muttered when he started to push you to the side, “I think I might have a bad bug and Sunset Curve can’t function without its lead vocalist and guitarist. And I can’t eat anyway.”

He had looked at you, confused and concerned. “Still? Alex told me you were able to keep your breakfast in, and I thought that meant you were on your way of improvement.”

“Some illnesses take longer to go away. I just didn’t want you to check on me because things like a normal cold or a little stomach bug can pass without unnecessary medications even if it takes longer.”

That had been two weeks ago. But today, when you were finally looking presentable again and were even able to open the door yourself, it wasn’t Luke that was visiting you.

“Oh… it’s you guys.”

“Geez, thanks Y/N. No need to kill us with all this kindness,” Reggie said laughing and sniffed, “Uh! Smells amazing. Pizza?” Without any hesitation or warning, he entered your house and vanished into the kitchen. 

“Pizza? Wow, you must really be feeling better. I remember you throwing up on me a week ago when I tried to feed you chicken soup,” Alex smiled, hands in his pockets and not moving until you invited him in. 

“Oh no,” hiding your face in your hands after you closed the door behind you both and groaned. “I’m so sorry about that. Again. Tell me how much the cleaning bill was and I-”

“Chill Y/N, relax. You’ve seen me at my worst and now I’ve seen you at your worst. Sure, I was still way more elegant and not as weak as you, but you just gave me a reason to finally get rid of those shoes.”

“No Alex! You loved those sneakers!” you said horrified.

“Just kidding. Give me 50 bucks and we’re even. Or, you know, better yet, come back to the studio and help us get rid of an overly clingy Luke. Now that you’re better, pleeeease, give him some cuddles!”

You giggled. “You know you have two perfectly fine arms to hug him with as well, right?”

“Yeah!” He said, raising his voice. “But not ALL the time. And I want to be appreciated for myself once too! Not just because I am the only one available to give hugs as an ‘emergency solution’!”

“You make it sound like you actually let us hug you dude, don’t lie,” Reggie muttered through a mouthful of Pizza, throwing himself on your couch.

Throwing Reggie a stink eye Alex turned to you again. “Anyway… You and I will go to the studio now. Yeah?”

“Well”, you stocked, not sure if you could talk to them about it. You had hoped for a few more days to think it over. “You know… It might actually not have been a bad bug, but rather a big bug that I caught.”  

At their confused faces, you sighed. “I’m a few days, or even weeks... late”, you mumbled the last part so quietly, you weren’t even sure if they had heard you (if they even knew what you meant).

You were definitely not expecting Reggie to be the one to answer. “Do you want me to drive you to the hospital or do you just want a pregnancy test first?”

-

You didn’t know who of them had told Luke, or when, but after a few minutes of waiting in the hospital’s waiting room he came barreling in, beanie askew on his head and guitar case on his back. His searching eyes found yours in a haze and you could basically hear the question in his gaze ‘Are you?’. Silently you shook your head, averting your eyes. 

Alex offered him his place beside you and Luke grabbed your hand while you waited. A few moments later your name was called and the nurse brought you and Luke to an empty room and told you to wait again. She came back a few minutes later and Luke moved to the side of the bed and held your hand again.

You didn’t feel the cold gel on your belly. Didn’t feel the way Luke was almost crushing your hand in his. Didn’t hear the words the nurse said. You only heard the faint heartbeat of your baby. You were pregnant. 

Luke was beaming, looking at the screen where you could see the ultrasound of your baby, but he also looked at you with a little bit of fear in his eyes. 

I can't say the words out loud So in a rhyme, I wrote you down Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Even though you were only in your eighth week and not really showing yet, Luke wouldn’t allow you to wear anything else than his oversized hoodies, sweaters, pullovers and flannels (the ones that still had sleeves. And okay, fair enough, it might also have been because he absolutely loved to see you in his clothes.)

He was like an eagle watching over you, flying down as soon as you were doing or were going to do something he didn’t approve of. He even almost convinced his and your parents to move into your room so he could reach you faster in case of an emergency. (It was a clear no from both parents and he even got grounded for that idea - though later on, you learned from Alex that it was because he had said ‘Why not? It’s not like I can impregnate her again!’)

Of course, your parents weren’t happy about the situation, but they weren’t about to throw you out on the street. They both loved you and Luke (after all, they did fall for his charms one to many times), but they never really spoke the words out loud, never really talked about the fact that you two were going to be parents, a family at such a young age.

And Luke and you? While he was acting like an overprotective husband you both weren’t really talking about it either. You both were terrified about the fact that you were going to raise a child while Sunset Curve was trying to make it big, while you were still in High School and it still seemed more like a dream to you both, a dream from which neither of you wanted to wake up and face reality.

That’s why you started to write the letters. Or in Luke’s case - lyrics. Letters to future you’s, letters to your unborn child telling them about your adventures, your experiences and feelings. It was a way to tell yourself all the reasons why it was okay that you were going to be having sleepless nights filled with the cries of a baby, telling you that it was all going to be worth it.

And for the first time, while writing those letters and lyrics, it was as if both you could feel your baby.

Your body lies upon the sheets Of paper in words so sweet I can't say the words So I wrote you into my verse Now you'll live through the ages I can feel your pulse in the pages

Time went by fast. You remembered the first time you felt the little kick very well, as if it was yesterday, but at that time you still could somewhat see your feet and now you couldn’t even stand up anymore without somebody’s help.

School was weird, but you had the boys to help you through it.

You started to draw little babies beside your letters, trying to imagine the different looks it could have. Would it have your hair or Luke’s? His eyes and your nose? Your eyes and his smile? 

And then you started to write your letters and lyrics around the baby, making it look like it was cradled by your warm words, hoping that whenever you wouldn’t be able to hold your child, it would be able to read your letters and feel the love, because you surely did. 

How could you have known that in just a few weeks these lyrics would be the only words your child would ever ‘hear’ from their father?

I have read you with these eyes I've read you with these eyes I have held you in these hands

You had never seen your parents looking so fragile and broken like the night they came into your room to tell you the boys died. 

And then, the next thing you knew was that your son was born. The doctors and nurses said that it was the stress, the emotional overload of being told that your friends, your loves, the father of your child died that caused your water to break.

That’s why it was Bobby and not Luke that was by your side that night and held your hand. It was Bobby, the normally strong and grumpy teenager, that was smiling like a little kid that just got told it would get to eat as much candy as it wanted. 

His eyes were glistening with tears as the nurse handed him the little bundle of joy and he started to sway him - Luke - slowly back and forth, knowing that you were too tired to hold him at the moment. 

“He is beautiful”, you murmured as he took a seat beside you, his gaze still fixed on his nephew, because obviously, he would be Uncle Bobby (though not for a very long time), “Just like his father.”

You didn’t hear Bobby’s answer as you fell asleep and dreamed of Luke, tucking you in and kissing your forehead before he dedicated himself entirely to the new tiny human in his arms, singing a sweet lullaby. 

“We have written you down. Now you will live forever and all the world will hear you and you will live forever. In eyes not yet created, on tongues that are not born, in ears not yet listening. I have written you down, now you will live forever and Sunset Curve will sing about you.”

[plottwiststudios]

PlotTwist’s Monthly Summary

November 2021

Sure was a lot of content being thrown at everyone this week, huh? Weird, considering Women of Xal (NOW ON STEAM AND ITCH.IO) has been out for three weeks now. In fact, there was so much, we’re not even dedicating a whole section to the game itself! That’s what the pinned post is for! We’re here for that lovely post content, after all. In short: It’s a high fantasy mystery game with lots and lots and lots and lots and lots and lots of romance options. Writer went mad.

The PTcademy’s People’s Choice Awards

Link to the digital polls here!

Votes close this Sunday (November 28th, 2021). If you are at all worried one of your characters will win “worst” character over some you really don’t like, make sure your vote is heard beforehand! A lot of close calls at the moment. A single vote could balance that out! You only need to type down a name per category, no essays or explanations required!

Women of Xal Soundtrack Available

Link to the 100+ soundtrack here!

If you liked the jams in the game and want to support the composer that wrote over 99% of the tunes, feel free to give him (see: Me) some sweet, sweet Ko-fi points. I’ll use it for buying stocks, paying artists, and paying artists back. 

NSFW Mobile Game: “From Our World to Yours”

We found a way to bring a slick little twist into the mobile dating sim genre, and it’s on par with the level of cheeky little original ideas that Women of Xal brought to the table. Only with WAY less complicated branching paths and less stress. This one is Kickstarter bound and will allow us to increase our portfolio while we prepare to step out into bigger and scarier territory (Unreal Engine, 3D, ect.) Details on the story and gameplay have been given to investors.

Wait We Can Invest?!

If you have a spare $500+ laying around and don’t mind being a silent investor, sure! You can DM us for details on that, but in summary, $500 gives you a small cut of company profits for a set period, and is the investment minimum, and $10,000+ is how you take a shortcut into getting your OC into Women of Xal and getting their own arc and optional Date With Xjena. Oh, and a bigger cut and longer term for the revenue sharing. All investors can join a Discord server where we talk about future projects with a more financial focus.

How do I get Women of Xal / The Soundtrack for Free?

BEAT ME IN SMASH, YO. Best of five games, Smash Ultimate tourney settings for professionals. I’ve got 10 million GSP, but that obviously means nothing. (Because I want to be at 10.5 million) Those that do just win free downloads, yo. O: If there’s any interest in such a silly event, I’ll absolutely host it. \o/

Any... Easier Way?

Aww, but I’m actually pretty easy. :’c But alternatively, I’ll have a survey page unlock for everyone who has cleared True Ending in their game. They’ll see a new button and it’ll take them to said survey. Fill it out, and you get a free soundtrack for your efforts. But it certainly isn’t easy; there’s a hardwired character minimum requirement on each question.

Any... Easier-easier Way?

Hey I run a business and can’t even buy juice for fun right now! Not without saying no to art or stocks.  ; _;

Until next month

-John

[having-a-hyperfixate]

Secret Reports

Gonna just edit this thing and put line breaks as I get more of them.

I’m also working on the rest of the completion, and will probably wander off in the middle of this to do Another Day, which will probably have its own post. I fully expect that to be sheer madness. 

#1 So is it just me or is Mr H writing these reports to channel how extremely stressed he is. Cuz like. Mood. *gestures vaguely at blog* *gestures at this post specifically*

I. Hold up. Skeezy McFuckwad and Joshua did what resulting in which now. Excuse me. EXPLAIN!??! Joshua had a sneaky Game running with Skeezy that directly lead to Hazuki ordering Skeezy to destroy Shinjuku??? Is that what I am reading. Or possibly the order was already in the works, and then there was the Game, which ultimately just pushed that forward?? You can’t just say shit like that and not give details ffffffff.

 #2 Mr H having about as much contempt for Shinjuku rules as I do I feel seen haha. Bogus indeed. I can’t remember if I said it in one of my other posts, of if it was in a group chat, but I made a comment somewhere how this ruleset doesn’t seem to work with the stated purpose of the whole Reaper’s Game system. Sweet validation.

 #3 Not much to say except that if I had read this entire report when I actually got it, I would have been much more alarmed by all of the Replays Rindo has to do after that. I got it partway through week 3 but decided not to read it until I beat the game and then BAM it has this lovely tidbit about potentially being able to destroy the UG and RG.

 #4 So, the business that the fandom refers to as the Long Game is known in universe by the higher-ups and Shibuya’s impurification, because it didn’t get ‘purified’ like Shinjuku (I object to that term but ok).

“The hierarchical freeze presumably stems from opposition to the impurification”

Skeezy wasn’t reprimanded when he arrived in Shibuya “possibly because most Higher Plane denizens still oppose Shibuya’s impurification”

ExcUSE ME. I. WHAT. In one of the secret reports for the first game, Mr H says something about the way things turned out be an ‘ideal parallel world’ according to the Angels. I guess he only meant the ones who didn’t want the city destroyed holy shit. That most of them didn’t want Joshua to change his mind and STILL DON’T is so massively fucked up I can’t. Dear Higher Plane, what the actual, ever loving fuck.

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

#5 One hundred and four Games under Shiba. That’s… so. many. teams. Holy shit. And the teams we knew had seen at LEAST 30 teams go. And the three teams we saw weren’t small. So many people…

Also, “Minamimoto seems to be plotting something” is the funnies thing I’ve read in ages OF COURSE HE IS that’s what he DOES. XD That was some mood whiplash.

#6 I was so hung up on the lack of entry fee for so long you don’t even know. Like. Those were so important in the first one it was baffling to me that Shinjuku rules didn’t have anything similar. And then eventually I just decided that the whole Game wasn’t being run correctly and Shiba was clearly after something other than driving the improvement that’s supposed to be the point.

I would like more explanation on this ‘Rindo’s stagnation makes him perfect for time travel thing’. I kind of understand how his reactions being consistent would be helpful in being able to control where the timeline goes (also I just realized this further confirms that Angels remember the other timelines glad I wasn’t imagining that the Prime days are a blur), but what does he mean about being able to maintain abnormally high levels of imagination? (It might tell me later so don’t say anything lol)

“I can only hope I’m not overthinking things.” Oh, you aren’t. If I’m understanding everything correctly, Skeezy actually had two proxies. And poor Rindo managed to end up being proxy for both sides at the same time which is. A mess.

 #7 Well, finally we know how Coco managed to get her hands on a taboo sigil. Plagiarism. Lmao. That at least makes sense and I can worry less about her being Something Else. I would like a word with whoever didn’t clean that up from Udagawa long enough for her to copy it though. That’s hilarious. Interesting that Mr H thinks it wasn’t a perfect recreation though, that something in him got changed. Once again, please elaborate. Please. *headdesk* What prompted Coco to just. Copy a taboo sigil though. Cuz that seems. Unusual.

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

#8 Ok there’s a lot to unpack in this one. Namely, more Shinjuku rules. I would love to know if these are long standing rules or relatively recent. Cuz like. Did Shinjuku’s Game ever run in a way that would drive the kind of improvement that’s supposed to be the overall goal? Or has it always, or at least for a while now, been basically a meat grinder? The players that don’t clear that minimum bar probably just get erased outright, I would think. Actually, I’m confused. If normally, one team would get to leave and one team would be erased, wouldn’t that normally keep the average pretty level, so the Game would basically go on forever? Otherwise what do you do with all the other teams that are between first and last? I’m confused. It can’t be normal for teams to keep asking for more rounds. And what if the winning team says ‘everyone gets to go home’?

“The Conductor has yet to contact the Composer” and “it is possible he is unaware of the Higher Plane’s purification protocol.” I don’t know why, but I get the feeling these are important.

 #9 These secret reports are really driving at the whole ‘Rindo just goes with it’ thing, aren’t they. Like, that was his thing, right? He has trouble making definitive decisions? So his arc culminates in that moment in Udagawa where he tells Hazuki that he’s going to take the risk and go back one more time, where he’s making that decision purely for his own sake. And here Mr H seems to be saying that prodding Rindo down the road to character growth is going to be a lot harder than it was with Neku back in the day. Which makes sense, I think. Confronting someone with the concept that other people have value is a lot less complicated than trying to get them to not only make a firm decision, but to choose something that is purely because it’s what they want and need, not because someone else thinks they should.

It’s a little alarming that this report implies that if the pin wasn’t absorbing the Dissonance caused by the Replays, the UG and RG would already be having a bad time. Yikes. This is the report for day 2 of the second week. We haven’t even gotten into the crazy time travel yet.

Aaaaand #10 is for completing the social network, so I have to actually go do Another Day. I want to read these in order; it is much less confusing that way.

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#10 I really shouldn’t read these late at night with a possible migraine coming on, they’re already confusing enough. The bits that made sense: Uzuki was acting Conductor damn girl. (Did she have to deal with Joshua and was he in Dignified Mode or Being a Shit Mode because that’s possibly an oof.) I had assumed Shiba was Shinjuku’s Conductor and then just kinda took over after they moved in but apparently not? And RIP the actual Conductor, apparently. Weird that so many Reapers made it but the Conductor, who by all rights should have, didn’t.

I am slightly concerned by the fact that there’s standard procedure for obliterating a district. That’s. Alarming.

I don’t think page 4 is continuing the thought on page 3. Fucking. Stop that. Don’t just say a thing and then start talking about something else I would like EXPLANATIONS. UGH. “Almost” he says. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume that almost is a big deal, so why don’t you tell me about it.

Four cases where a district got into trouble before a final decision on whether to reset or not was made. And one was the last game. I wonder if that means whatever was wrong that made Joshua want to destroy it, or if the ‘imbalance’ was all the madness that happened after he agreed to one final Game with Kitaniji and the left the UG. Cuz in one of the first set of secret reports, it says that with the Composer absent, the UG is starting to fall apart as the rules are no longer valid, or something like that. I would definitely call that an imbalance.

 #11 All I care about in this report is that Mr H wants to have a digital art bonding party with Kaie and that is so random why are you writing this down you absolute goober. The first page of this report is like ‘everyone is getting depressed’ and then just a wild left turn into dork-town. Lmao what.

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#12 I don’t think Mr H knows at this point (you get this report for W2D5’s Boss Noise) that the Ruinbringers are all Reapers. He’s gonna be mad. He does know what Shoka is up to though. He’s worried. Aw.

 #13 It didn’t occur to me until this report hit me in the face with it, but they’ve set up a fantastic contrast between the two people Rindo knows from online. One is. not great, let’s say, because I did not take the reveal of Motoi’s true self well. The other is Shoka, and she’s a real friend. I now see what you did there. One relationship that’s a farce and one that really, really isn’t.

 #14 Me, out loud, at 1:30 in the damn a.m.: WAIT. HOLD THE FUCK UP.

If getting Tsugumi out of Mr Mew required an Angel, how in the hell did Shiki manage to…? What. I’m very confused.

Also damn, saving Tsugumi was so important that Shinjuku’s Conductor died for it. Did he know what she could do, the whole visions thing? Or maybe that something was wrong with Shiba and it would take someone like her to potentially stop him in the future?

I still would like to now how the hell Tsugumi got her hands on Mr Mew. Especially since its apparently the ORIGINAL Mr Mew and she seems to have had him during the inversion? What.

 #15 So… Inversions don’t always happen when a region is purified. I’m trying to wrap my brain around what a ‘complete loss of character’ in and area that’s had an Inversion could mean. Like… I think I get it, but my brain won’t make words, let alone sentences. Like when you go into a hotel room, and it doesn’t feel like a home, as opposed to when you go to a friend or family’s house, and it does? Kinda like that but it’s the whole district that’s just… blank? That’s kinda creepy.

If there are so many who think a ‘regular purification’ isn’t enough, the a) what does that even look like, b) is that what Joshua was going to do to Shibuya and c) is there an intermediate step between ‘normal’ and Inversion? I have been staring at this report for literally 15 minutes now.

 #16 “I wonder how [Shiba] will feel about all this after he is allowed to return to his former self.” Yuuuuuup. I still Do Not Like him, but dude was borderline mind controlled so like. Yeah. And I did get to kill him once, so. As long as he minds his business and isn’t a total dick from here on, whatever. It all just sucks.

*facepalm* Well at least we got to being suspicious of Replay eventually. Why did it take you this long Mr H. Though I do wonder what Rindo would have been able to do without the interference. He had to have some kind of latent skill for the pin to react to him, right? I’m now going in circles mentally trying to puzzle out if Replay is like, a leveled up version of whatever Rindo would have naturally had, and regardless, where exactly it came from. Because the only time I can think of when anyone had a chance to mess with the pin was when he didn’t catch it in the prologue. And I’m pretty sure it was Joshua who picked it up. Aaagh I’m giving myself a headache.

I find it hard to believe skeezy would just yeet a random time travel pin out into the world. That seems both dumb as fuck and inefficient.

 #17 “Some of them who know what I am occasionally try to contact me.” Lol so Kariya DOES know who Mr H is, I take it. Alright.

I’m having some kind of emotion that Wildkat still exists in a way for the Reapers, and that some of them still go there.

I just imagined Uzuki texting him like ‘plz make the Composer fucking do something kthx’ and I’ve got the giggles now oh dear

 #18 HA! I was right! Minamimoto WASN’T in control when he attacked us! ‘Distortions within himself’ though, that’s concerning. Does that have to do with how he’s come back from the dead twice now? And how Coco’s copy of the sigil was apparently imperfect?

 #19 I was about to say ‘who would target him for his abilities?’ and then my brain turned back on because duh. Shiba and them were looking hard for Neku, to the point that they flooded the RG with Player Pins in the hopes that he would pick one up and get sucked into the Game. A thing that occurred to me last night at 3:30 in the morning because I am a disaster: Mr H says that Minamimoto ‘seems different’. Neku says much the same thing after he comes back. So… Neku’s ability to Scan all the way down to someone’s Soul is potentially close to as sensitive as Mr H’s long distance ability. Which is a little insane. On top of the fact that he can use basically every psych imaginable no problem, survived a pact with a Composer for a full week, while said Composer was using crazy light beams which probably should have melted Neku from the feedback, and then almost singlehandedly defeated the Conductor while somehow inventing four-way fusion attacks. Kid is mad powerful. And he’s just a human. Like, the OG secret reports say that people always become dramatically stronger when they become Reapers. Reaper!Neku would be unstoppable.

“This would be much simpler if I could sit down and talk with him.” Okay, I laughed out loud. Like, loudly.

So… Shinjuku’s Composer… basically had his Conductor assassinated by skeezy. And because skeezy was messing with Shiba’s head, he could prompt Shiba to take the Reapers to Shibuya afterwards, to start doing it there too? Hazuki ordered Shinjuku’s purification so… Oh dear. I might have a few bones to pick with him.

 OH NO. OOOOOH. OH NOOOO. SHINJUKU’S CONDUCTOR. HE WAS TSUGUMI’S BROTHER OH MY GOD. That is fucking tragic what the fuck. What the FUCK. Okay several things make sense now but OH MY GOD FUCKING HELL I WAS NOT READY FOR THAT. Shiki fixing Mr Mew allowed Tsugumi to free herself because her brother had already done part of the work, I take it? Along with us getting the Noise out of there? No wonder the Conductor stayed, he had to go get his sister… Shit, man.

 …… Did Coco steal Mr Mew and take him to Shinjuku?????

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

#21 isn’t very interesting, just a rehash of stuff we already knew.

#22 Okay Haz IS Shinjuku’s Composer. What. Why? I’m. So confused. Why would he intercede on our behalf, and why NOW? He was happy to throw his own city away, but stepped in to stop skeezy in Shibuya? And then tried to put it back together, and when Rindo was miserable he came to try to understand why. And then cajoled Rindo into having a breakthrough in his Character Development to boot.

Mr H says he has an idea why Haz did all this. And then doesn’t fucking say it because OF COURSE. *headdesk* That gets really old really fast, game.

I’m now running through The Last Day’’ to get the final two reports and this entire section with Haz is somehow even more confusing with context. God damn it Nomura.

 #23 Even after he said we were on our on this time, he forced the Soul Pulvis to reform as Pheonix Cantus to make it easier for us to fight? Bro. What. Are all Composers just… walking contradictions? Aiya.

Shoutout to emotional support Joshua at the end there lol. I remember half-hysterically thinking ‘what are you just here for moral support?’ but ok. And I mean, it did work, Neku did manage to do the thing, so. *sigh* Speaking of, it is ABSOLUTELY INSANE that Neku manage to sync with the entire city without his brain melting. Remember at the beginning of the first game when he scans for the first time and has a massive sensory overload? Look at my boy, all grown up.

 #24 Holy shit world building on how exactly people come back to life without everyone freaking out. I never thought I would see the day.

I still have so many questions but that was always going to be the case. The first game had so many things it left open as well. Agh. Time to start wearing new holes in my brain overthinking things.

[927roses-and-stuff]

Miracles in Gotham: Chapter 4: Unwelcome Discoveries (Part 2)

Hey, guys! This fic is inspired by @ozmav’s Maribat AU. Shoutout to @mystery-5-5 for brainstorming ideas with me for this fic. 

Woah, updating twice within the same week? It’s like I finally learned how to manage my time!... Not. Honestly this is my stress relief right now because I have two papers due tomorrow and those subjects are not as much fun to write about. On another note, I just finished my midterm and passed! So, yay! Anyways, hope you guys enjoy and have a little bit of luck come your way too. 

Btw, after you’re reading this can you guys please tell me if I’m writing too much angst after reading through this chapter??? I am writing what I think would logically happen in this type of scenario, but I also tend to be really pessimistic. 

If you want to see more, follow: #miraclesingotham or ask to be added to the tag list.

Tag list: @northernbluetongue @zerotosiki @spicybelladonna @my-name-is-michell @legendaryneckjudgestudent @lokiifriggasonn

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By the time Marinette entered the classroom, her mood had lifted considerably from moments before. She sat at her usual seat and prepared her things as the rest of the class filed in. Her mood was slightly disrupted by a disgruntled Lila who roughly swept past her, but otherwise it seemed like today was finally going to be a normal day; well as normal as one could get in Paris, anyway. As the last remaining students settled in, Mme. Bustier walked into the room with a huge stack of papers. She settled them on her desk before addressing everyone. 

“Good morning, everyone!” 

“Good morning, Mme. Bustier,” the class parroted back in varying degrees of enthusiasm. Mme. Bustier smiled in satisfaction. 

“Now before we begin our usual morning exercise, I would like to call up Marinette and Alya to help me distribute these packages for you. I will give you a few minutes to look through it before discussing it further,” she said, as she split the pile of papers in half and handed one half to each girl. Marinette’s eyes bulged. The stack of papers consisted of multiple stacks of paper about twenty pages long each. She and Alya shared a glance before obeying Mme. Bustier’s orders. She started at Chloe and Sabrina’s desk and ended with Rose and Juleka at the back. Then, she returned to her seat, analyzing the stack of papers in front of her.

“Wayne Enterprises Sponsored International Connections Program in Gotham City, USA Information Package and Permission Forms”

After that was a bunch of paragraphs that Marinette skimmed over. The first few pages detailed what the program was for, their accommodations, costs for travel along with what necessary documents were needed, and all sorts of other details that made Marinette dizzy. The next few pages after that outlined the risks specific to Gotham and resources that students and their guardians were strongly recommended to review before even stepping onto Gotham grounds. The pages after that were permission forms asking for the legal guardian’s consent, her personal info, insurance, etc. 

Needless to say, the whole class was baffled. In fact, some of them were downright lost, considering they didn’t even know a Gotham City existed in the US. Or what Wayne Enterprises was supposed to be and why they were offered to join this program. Only Max and Alya seemed excited at the prospect of the field trip, judging on the excited murmurs that Marinette could hear. She picked up on the word “vigilantes” from Alya and “greatest detective” from somewhere behind her  and suddenly it all made sense. She wasn’t sure if she heard correctly, but she was pretty sure she heard Lila talking in self-assured whispers to the confused people around her. She held in a scoff, before returning her attention to the papers in front of her.

Marinette frowned, closing the package and pushing it away from her. She waited for Mme. Bustier to explain the details more clearly. Unfortunately, Marinette already knew there was no way she could go, at least, not without risking Paris’ safety. 

“If you have finished, please bring your attention to me. I will explain everything. Please leave all your questions till the end,” Mme. Bustier said, clapping her hands to get everyone’s attention. “As you may have noticed, this opportunity has been given to us by M. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises. He has chosen our school as a trial school for a program that he wants to implement next year to help expand student achievement nationally and internationally. As well as to encourage young students like yourselves to make connections with students from other countries. In fact, I believe it was Mayor Bourgeois who sent M. Wayne a glowing recommendation of our class from fundraising events to everyone’s extracurriculars and achievements! I am so proud of all of you.” 

At the front, Chloé straightened in her seat and smiled smugly. Beside her, Sabrina was looking from Chloé to the stack of papers in front of her in disbelief. The class was in a similar state of shock, and soon whispers erupted excitedly from most people in the class before Mme. Bustier silenced them all. 

Oh, that made sense, Marinette thought. Despite the sense of pride she felt for herself and the class (their hard work deserved some reward after all, especially with all the akumas recently), she knew Mayor Bourgeois was not the type of person to recommend just anyone from the goodness of his heart. He had recommended this class to M. Wayne for Chloé’s own success. Which was a bit of a shame, Marinette thought, since Chloé had more than enough resources to find opportunities for herself. However, she couldn’t help but feel grateful to whatever deity convinced Mayor Bourgeois to include the class, anyway.

“Anyways,” Mme. Bustier said when the class had calmed down. “I expect everyone here to listen to what I have to say and take it to heart.” Mme. Bustier’s voice settled lowered, her tone becoming dangerously low. “This program is a huge opportunity however, Gotham City is full of many risks and I am making it absolutely mandatory for everyone in this room, as well as their legal guardians to use the sources outlined under “Risks to be Aware of While in Gotham City” Section. While M. Wayne has assured the supervisors for the trip as well as M. Damocles that our accommodations will be in Gotham’s financial district, there is still going to be danger; more than what we’re accustomed to in Paris.” 

At the end of her spiel, the atmosphere in the room weighed heavy on Marinette. She had never seen Mme. Bustier so strict before, her teal eyes piercing through everybody in the room. 

“Um, Mme. Bustier?” Lila spoke and stood up. The class swivelled their attention to her. “I’ve actually been to Gotham City and have met M. Wayne before for a humanitarian project. I’m sure M. Wayne will make sure to do everything to keep us safe.” 

“That may be, Lila, but I assure you, these instructions were given to me by M. Wayne himself via email. He will do his best to make sure our trip is as safe as possible, but that means we need to do our part in keeping ourselves safe.” 

Blinking owlishly, Lila faltered. “Yes, of course, Mme. Bustier.” She forced a smile. “I was just saying so because it would be an absolute shame for anyone to miss out on such a great opportunity!” 

Marinette rolled her eyes. Sure, she thought. That, or she just wanted everyone to know that she knew Bruce Wayne- whoever he was- and be impressed.  At least she didn’t claim that she saved Bruce Wayne’s horse or something similar. Or claim to be friends with the vigilantes Alya had been fangirling about earlier.

The rest of the morning was spent going through the rest of the package from how to ensure that everyone had their visa, to what they should bring and how they should behave while they were there. Marinette frowned; there was something off about this trip. She wasn’t sure whether it was the duration of the trip ( which had a minimum of one month, with extra time being granted in case of any future interruptions), or why an American company would choose this specific French class for the trial program instead of a class in say, London, or any other country that spoke English. It seemed that Max was thinking along the same lines as her, because the moment Mme. Bustier finished, his hand shot up in the air. 

“Yes, Max?” 

“I have a few questions concerning this program. Why is there a minimum allotted time for our stay? Would our parents need to agree to any extension of staying? And how are we supposed to communicate or even understand anything when most of us don’t speak English?” 

Mme. Bustier smiled. “Those are all excellent questions. As I have said before, Gotham City is dangerous so there might be trips that are part of the program that will need to be rescheduled or we may need to take a later flight in case anything happens at the airport. Therefore, we need to be aware that our trip may last longer than the required month. Next, while we are there, you will be put in remedial English classes along with any classes you choose to take at Gotham Academy for the duration of our stay. This way, you will have the opportunity to brush up your English skills.” 

Alya was quick to stand up and shoot her hand in the air. “Will we be going on any field trips outside of Gotham City? Like Metropolis?” 

Mme. Bustier stared at her. “Maybe, but as for now, all details of the trip are included in the itinerary in your packages.” 

Alya deflated, slumping in her seat. Marinette turned toward her and whispered, “What’s so special about Metropolis?”

She perked up and whispered excitedly. “It’s the home of Superman, Booster Gold and Blue Beetle!” Marinette had absolutely no clue -nor any real desire to know- who those were. It didn’t seem to matter as Alya rambled on. “And, and, and, it’s also the home to Pulwitzer prize-winning journalist Lois freaking Lane  from the Daily Planet. I love her. I think I told Nino once that I would leave him for her (Nino gave an affirmative “uh huh”) if the opportunity ever arose and he said he wouldn’t mind as long as he could be with Superman. But that’s alright because Lois Lane is a badass and I love her; she is a genius-” 

“Ahem.” Mme. Bustier coughed. Alya stopped mid-speech and laughed sheepishly. Her voice must have been louder than she realized.

“Sorry Mme. Bustier.” 

“No problem, Alya. Just keep your excitement until the end of class.” She smiled softly. “And, I will see if I can mention your love for Lois Lane to M. Wayne.”

The way Alya froze in her seat, her jaw unhinged and wide eyes, Marinette wasn’t sure if she was in normal shock or if Mme. Bustier had actually managed to kill her with words. She chuckled before nudging her side to bring her back to reality. Shaken out of her stupor, Alya thanked Mme. Bustier and sat in her seat. Her smile was record-breakingly wide and she seemed to vibrate in place. 

Letting out a giggle, Marinette was ecstatic for her best friend. Sure, she may not know the superheroes she mentioned, and still wasn’t too sure of who Lois Lane was, but Alya looked like she won a million euros and meeting her idol would be a great opportunity. As Alya continued to freak out however, she shared glances between Adrien and Nino in front of her and had to stifle their laughter. 

Maybe if Alya did meet Lois Lane and Superman, and Gotham vigilantes, she could share her excitement with Marinette when the class returned to Paris. 

The rest of the day had been pretty normal, with the addition of excitement in the air as her class discussed the trip to Gotham. Students from other classes seemed to be split between being jealous of the class for the opportunity, or relieved at the foreseeable absence of what they dubbed as “the akuma class.” Students from her own class huddled together in their small groups, already planning on what they wanted to do, what they thought Gotham would be like, and how they were excited to meet any cute Americans. Marinette couldn’t help but let their excitement affect her as well. Not only was going abroad always a cause for excitement but surely it was a relief to be able to leave Paris in the foreseeable future. It was exhausting being targeted by stupid demonic butterflies and sucking up your feelings like they didn’t exist (Unless you were Lila, then you cried and let everyone worry about your emotional state and any akumas that could come from it, that is). However, Marinette had a feeling that this trip to Gotham would stir a lot of drama within their class, when everyone had the chance to reveal any negative emotions without the consequence of an akuma around. 

Well, that was that, she supposed as she went home for the lunch break, the permission forms tucked under her arm. She had been half tempted to chuck them in a bin somewhere, but knew her parents would be pissed if she didn’t tell them. Thus, she entered the bakery and once there was a lull in the orders, asked both of her parents if they could talk. 

She led them upstairs in the living room and placed the bundle of papers on the dining room table. Marinette briefly explained the program and let them read through the package carefully. By the time they finished, Marinette only had an hour left of her two hour lunch break. 

“So?” She prompted, trying to gauge their reactions. 

Her maman and dad exchanged a glance and nodded, before turning back to her. 

“You’re definitely going.” Her maman said, putting the package back on the table. 

Marinette’s jaw dropped. “Wait, Maman, don’t you need some more time to think about this?” She couldn’t believe it. She should’ve chucked the package in a bin. 

Her dad frowned. “Marinette, we don’t like it either, and it’s not...ideal, but we believe it’s for the best if you stay away from Paris for now.” 

Marinette’s eyes widened, glancing back and forth between her maman and dad. “What do you mean?” 

Her maman sighed. “Ever since we almost got akumatized on the day you were expelled, me and your father have been talking, and well, Paris isn’t safe for you anymore. It hasn’t been for a long time.”

Her dad nodded in agreement. Marinette felt befuddled. She felt like she definitely lost a few brain cells. 

“Gotham City isn’t safe either, Maman, Papa. Didn’t you see the risks listed?” Marinette asked, grabbing the package and desperately scouring through the package. This was so not happening; she couldn’t afford to leave Paris. 

She heard a sigh coming from her maman, before her hands settled on Marinette’s own. Marinette glanced up to stare at her maman’s cloudy grey gaze. “It’s definitely not ideal, and we wish you were somewhere safer, but I trust that M. Wayne and the school administration would never have allowed this to happen if it was too risky.” 

“But-” 

“And, “ her dad interjected before Marinette could continue. “If this hadn’t come up, we would’ve sent you away with your grandmère and you would’ve had to pause your schooling and travel around Europe with her until it was safe to come back home.” 

“Or,” her maman added, giving Tom a small glare. “We would’ve sent you to Shanghai with your uncle Wang. At least this way, you can continue with your schooling and still be with your friends under the maximum amount of protection.” 

Her breathing turned heavy at her words. Her heart was beating faster, was it just her imagination or did it feel like the room was stuffier than before. She didn’t understand. Why now? They had been planning to send her away. She pressed a hand against her chest to try to control her breathing. In through the nose, out through the mouth. It had been a calming trick Master Fu had shown her when she had been at the edge of getting an anxiety attack. 

Not for the first time, Marinette wished she could just tell her parents she was Ladybug. Then again, maybe that would’ve motivated them further to get her out of Paris. 

No, her maman and papa loved her. They just wanted her to be safe. They weren’t aware she’d been taking care of Paris all this time. 

She felt her maman’s warm presence beside her as her papa engulfed them both. She barely registered the apologies her maman whispered as she stroked her hair. She was too busy pushing down all her anxieties. 

She couldn’t risk getting akumatized. 

Her lunch break had been long over by the time she had calmed down. By then, both her maman and papa had returned to the bakery with promises that they would talk about this tomorrow and that they would call the school to report her absence for the afternoon. 

Marinette barely registered them as she trudged up to her bedroom. Then her bathroom. Shower. Dry hair. Change of clothes. Bed. 

She didn’t know what to feel. She didn’t notice the kwamis flying towards her and snuggling with her, in her hair and the crook of her neck. 

“What do I do?” She asked listlessly. 

Tikki floated to her field of vision. “Marinette. It’ll be okay.” 

“How?” 

Tikki didn’t give an answer. She sighed and sat up. She was going to write in her diary until she read her last entry. Right. Marianne. She sighed. She’d call her and then go on an early patrol of the city. 

She didn’t want the helplessness that came with being Marinette.

Taking a long, deep breath, she grabbed her tablet and called Marianne through video chat. Surprisingly, despite her age, Marianne adapted to technology pretty well. She and Master Fu were living somewhere in London, enjoying their retirement together. Marinette liked to keep up with them regularly, since she missed Master Fu, and their present now gave her hope for her own future. 

She waited for the screen to load, and smiled widely when Marianne’s face entered the screen. She looked like she had just gotten home; the makeup she was wearing was starting to fade, and her hair was tied in a slightly wet updo bun.

“Marinette! Bonjour! How have you been, darling?” Marinette noticed that she had adopted a slight British accent when she talked. It hadn’t been that long since they last talked, so maybe her and Master Fu had been going out more. 

“Bonjour Marianne.” She softly waved her hand. “Everything’s fine actually. How are you and Master Fu?”

Marianne smiled, re-focusing her own screen so Marinette could see her more clearly. “Everything’s been great. Wang has taken to liking massage parlors again. We just visited one yesterday.” 

Marinette smiled fondly. She could feel Wayzz’s presence on her shoulder as he listened intently. If anyone had been more devastated than Marinette about Master Fu’s amnesia and departure, it would have been Wayzz. It had taken a long time for him to open up to Marinette and the other kwamis, often leaving the Oolong tea she brewed for him to run cold. Fortunately, he was getting better and opening up more. Their love for Master Fu had been what helped he and Marinette bond together as a new Guardian and kwami. 

“I’m glad. It seems like you two are really happy.” 

Marianne squinted her eyes; she could feel her gaze through the screen. “Why did you call, Marinette?”

“I, ah, had a question about the Miraculous actually. I was wondering if your time with Master Fu before had given you any insight to them.” 

Marianne frowned slightly, rubbing her chin. “I’ve picked up on a few things, but Wang was really secretive. I’ll give it my best shot for you, dear.” 

“Thank you! I was wondering if you had any clue as to why the Miracle Box turned into an egg when Master Fu renounced his Guardianship to me?” 

Marianne sighed. “I wish I could tell you, but I’m as lost as you are.” 

She deflated. Her hands gripped the tablet tighter. She knew there was only a miniscule chance that Marianne would’ve known anything, but a tiny part of her had hoped that luck would be on her side. Exhaling, Marinette thanked her. 

On the other side of the screen, Marianne’s frown deepened. As happy as she was with Wang Fu, it was cruel for destiny to hand such a young child the enormous and numerous responsibilities that the Guardian had to bear. She glanced at Wang, who was sleeping on the couch contentedly. She was happy they could now spend the rest of their lives together in peace when most of it had been previously spent in war. 

Speaking of war… 

“Marinette, darling! I think I might know of someone who can help you!” 

Marinette perked up. She had been about to change the subject or close the call, but maybe she had a bit of luck on her side after all. 

“Who?” 

“During the war, when Wang and I escaped to Paris, we were aided by someone who would become one of our closest friends. When he was recruited to battle in the war, he was very young, so Wang had lent him the Snake Miraculous for its powers of Intuition, at least until the war was over.” 

Marinette felt Wayzz stiffen on her shoulder. 

“She doesn’t mean…”

“Unfortunately,” Marianne continued. “When he returned home, he had an argument with Wang and almost didn’t return the Miraculous. It was only a month later that he left it on our doorstep. We haven’t heard from him since, but maybe he might know something. He was always a genius and intuitive beyond his years.” 

Marinette frowned. “Do you know where he might be now?” 

“His name is Alfred Pennyworth. He mentioned once that his family had a tradition of serving a family called the Waynes.” 

Marinette’s frown deepened. There was the name Wayne again. Which meant Gotham. It felt like the universe really wanted her to go there. She sighed. At least she’d have an objective while she was there- if she did go in the first place. She smiled again, once she saw Marianne’s worried stare. 

“Thank you so much, Marianne. I need to go now and plan what to do. I hope you and Master Fu stay well.” 

Marianne smiled. “You too, Marinette. Don’t hesitate to call me for anything, dear.” 

She merely nodded, and they both logged off. She set aside her tablet and turned to face Sass, who was already in front of her. 

“Tell me everything you know about this Alfred Pennyworth and your time with him, Sass. I need to know if he can help before considering everything.” 

The snake kwami merely nodded. “Of course, my Guardian.”

[writingsbychlo]

more ways than one (05)

word count; 5015

summary; the pressure of looking after everyone else all becomes too much, and you snap, but there’s someone there to look after you this time.

notes; make sure to check the warnings for any triggers!

warnings; vivid descriptions fo panic attacks, major anxiety references, mentions of death and threats.

It had been a while since you’d had a chance to go back and see the man you were hiding away. You knew he’d be okay, you’d stocked up the house with snacks, over the past few weeks you’d taught him how to cook basic meals for himself. He seemed to be going through the books lining Derek’s shelves faster than you would have imagined, but then again, he had to fill his days with something.

He was catching on fast. Fast enough that you knew he’d be perfectly fine alone for a week, but you didn’t feel good about the amount of time that had passed. You had spent what had remained of the summer break visiting every day, or every other day in the minimum, and as soon as school had come back, things had caught up. Your studies were fine, but yet another supernatural threat was pressing down on you all, and now there was someone hunting down supernatural creatures around Beacon Hills, almost all of your friends at risk.

A week. A week had passed since you’d last been to visit, and you feared for the mood the man would be in when you returned. He’d opened up to you, enough to have small conversations here and there, but you hadn't progressed much further after his session with answering your questions all those weeks ago. Derek had called, extending his trip with Cora until Christmas, and so a weight had been lifted off of your shoulders in that you didn’t have to find him somewhere new to stay. 

One less thing for you to worry about. 

You had spent the day with the pack, running over scenarios and situations as you tried to find results, only to come up with dead ends. You were at the end of your tether, there was nothing you could do. As a human, you were for once the safest in the group, you and Stiles not being hunted, and yet everyone else was. You hated it, you hated how useless you felt, and you couldn't even bring yourself to hide the frown on your face when you unlocked the sliding door to the loft and entered the large space. 

The sound of a thick book snapping shut and stiff material creaking under the movement of a heavy weight greeted you, and you found V popped up on his elbows, a book sitting on his chest as he peered at you from the couch, brows furrowed and eyes narrowed on you.

“Thought you might not come back this time.” 

His voice was low, and you let out a deep sigh, shaking your head and running a hand through your hair as you dropped your bag from your shoulder down to your hand, carrying it over to the couch with you. He moved his legs as you made to sit down, swinging them over the edge of the sofa and making room for you to sit down beside him. You flopped back into the cushions, turning your head to look at him and he raised his eyebrows curiously, placing his book down and sitting up fully, enough to scoot closer to you across the couch. “I’m sorry.”

“You don’t need to be.”

“I’m not going to leave you, I’m just overwhelmed at the moment.” He hummed in response, before picking his book back up and opening it to it’s place. You weren’t sure what you had expected, he wasn’t well-adjusted yet, and you weren’t exactly seeking comfort, but you’d expected a little more from him than just being ignored as he went back to his book. 

Digging through your bag, you pulled out your notebook and placed it on the table, open to the page with all the notes you and Stiles had scribbled down while working through problems earlier. However, no matter how many times you went through your bag, you couldn't find the pen you had been using, and suddenly, you could see it in your mind’s eye, tucked behind your best friend’s ear where he’d placed it before picking up the phone when Scott had called.

You let out a loud sigh, cursing under your breath and tossing your bag aside, dropping your head into your hands for a second and growling under your breath, the noise muffled by your palms, but still perfectly audible to the man you sat with.

“Are you okay?”

“Do I fucking look okay?” You hadn't meant to snap, and he looked taken aback by your outburst, his brows furrowing as his lips twisted down in a frown, your jaw tensing as you dragged your eyes away from his in guilt, searching across the room and finding a pent sitting on the stacks of books, next to a journal you’d left him a while ago to practice learning to write with, and he followed your gaze to it. 

Picking up the instrument, he slammed it down on the table before you, nimble fingers pulling back as he jerked away from you like you were a flame that had burned him. “All you had to do was ask.”

The comment made you want to shout again, anger and frustration from the day bubbling up inside of you, and your eyes squeezed shut as you tried to control your rage, instead trying to work through the issue before you, trying to work out the passwords for the list of prices and names for those being hunted. 

The evening continued much the same, as the hours passed on you found everything becoming too much. You were stressed, and overly tired, days of barely sleeping taking it’s toll on you as your tether wore thin. Everything from the scraping sound of the paper each time he turned the page, to the sound of Derek’s obnoxiously large clock ticking away was making you even more irritated. 

His leg had been bouncing, twitching like Stiles’ would and you’d told him to stop, you’d told him to move up because he felt too close to you, and now he was sitting on the floor. He’d accommodated every silly whim you’d presented him with, and yet you still couldn’t help the growl that came under your breath as his fingernails absentmindedly scratched at the denim of his jeans as he read his book. It all became too much, and you slammed a fist down onto the table, everything a top it rattling as he jumped and looked up at you.

You were fixing him with a hard glare, and for this first time tonight, and in a long while, he fixed you with the same chilling look that had been his default expression when you’d first saved him. “What now?”

His teeth had been gritted as he spoke, and you scoffed at his attitude, shaking your head and crossing your arms as you looked at him. “You’re making this scratchy noise. It’s annoying me.”

“Everything I do seems to be annoying you, tonight.” You grumbled at his comment, pinching the bridge of your nose and you heard him hum to himself, flicking the page of his book extra loudly in protest. “If it’s so awful being here, why don’t you just leave?”

“Excuse me?”

“Leave. I didn’t ask you to be here. I’ve been perfectly fine alone, in all the days you didn’t have time for me.” He muttered the final words, and your eyebrows shut up, getting to your feet and placing your hands on your hips, trying to intimidate him as you towered over him but he got to his full height, and suddenly you were looking up at him as he glared down at you, now feeling much smaller than you did a second ago. 

“This is my friend’s place, I’m looking after you! You should fucking leave!”

“And go where? I didn’t ask you to save me! If I’m so much of a burden to you then you should have left me for dead!” The comment made you swallow down thickly, but electricity was zapping through the air with each comment thrown in raised voices and angry shouts between you both, and the fire burning in his eyes only fuelled you on, no matter how much you knew you may regret your words.

“Maybe I should have! It would be a lot fucking easier for me!” His eyes darkened as he looked at you, jaw sealed shut before he schooled his face into a more neutral expression, and his ability to wash your emotions away only added wood to the burning rage within you.

“Do you really want me to leave?”

“I want you to get out of my fucking face is what I want!” You dropped back down onto the couch, hearing him huff out a ‘fine’ as he moved around the room, and you watched him go, shaking your head and rolling your eyes as he dramatically pulled open the loft door, leaving it ajar as his footsteps sounded on the stairs, disappearing into silence as he left.

A cold breeze swept in, cooling your fiery temper, and you shivered to yourself, the room suddenly feeling much larger with just you in it, and you felt increasingly more lonely as you looked around. Stretching out your muscles, you made your way over to the door, sliding it shut just enough to keep the coldness of the night out, and you felt guilty, knowing that the man had stormed out barefoot in just a t-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

Your attention turned back to that of trying to solve your benefactor issues. Your mind was spinning, your stomach grumbling, and after another half an hour of wavering focus and drifting thoughts, you resigned yourself to making food. It wasn’t until halfway into your prep of the meal that you realised you had accidentally been making enough for two, instinct having taken over, and you sighed as you dished up your own, before leaving the other half int he fridge as leftovers. 

Eating along gave you time to think about what you’d done, and you stabbed at the meal, eating slowly on rapidly cooling food as your appetite dwindled, replaced by nauseating guilt that twisted sickeningly in your guts. You washed the dishes and placed them on the rack, hiding in the kitchen, hoping that if you hung out in there long enough, that when you came back through, V would be back, scowling at you from his seat on the couch. 

In a bid to occupy your mind, you made your way back to the couch, curling in on yourself as the thin blanket that kept you warm was no longer providing warmth, instead, leaving you feeling as though you were going to catch as chill, and over an hour had passed by since your friend had left, someone you had pushed away instead of letting in, and tears welled in your eyes as you thought about your other friends.

The words on the page seemed to blur the longer you looked at them, and you squeezed your eyes shut, a heavy and hot tear dripping down onto your cheek, and you were quick to wipe it away. You slammed the notebook shut, pulling your legs to your chest and burying your face in your knees, willing back the tears threatening to spill. You were clinging to yourself, rocking back and forth as the silence of the room took over, and you felt like you were sinking, drowning, entirely alone. 

You made the split decision to get up, your body barely reacting in time with your movements as you stumbled to your feet, sniffling and blinking back tears as you dragged the door out of your way, not even bothering to close it again before you were searching the building, top to bottom in a weak hope that you may find the man hiding out somewhere as he waited for you to calm down, but you had no such luck. You searched through the outside, wandering so far away from the main building that you had to use the torch on your phone to just find your way, shivering violently by the time you returned alone. 

Your skin was cold to the touch, coated in goosebumps from raised hairs as your teeth chattered, and your arms were wrapped tightly around your own body. The only warmth you had was from the tears slowly tracking down your cheek as you cursed to yourself, rubbing at your nose and your eyes, skin sore from salty tears you’d released. 

Your breath felt like you were gasping by the time you were stumbling back into the loft, your heart racing, beating almost painfully hard against your ribs, though everything felt like it was in slow motion. You felt weak, your body giving way beneath you as you sobbed, clawing at your chest to pull breaths in, and you couldn’t find a blanket for the life of you. You knew Derek had them here, and your hands were shaking, so much so that as you searched through the boxes and drawers you were practically ripping them from their shelves, leaving them turned over as things clattered to the ground. 

You couldn’t save your friends.

You couldn't save one person you found in the street.

You couldn’t even save yourself.

Your knees hit the floor painfully loud, the thud sounding through the room as your hands laced into your hair, tugging at the roots form your stress as you collapsed to the floor, everything around you seeming to blur away as your oncoming panic attack gave you struggles to even breathe, to wound up to even be able to see your surroundings anymore.

It was too much, you were just one person, you were a teenager. Your main concern should be what to wear to prom, whether you would have a date and which colleges to apply to. Every morning you woke up you lived with the constant fear that today may be your last day, that you may have to hold one of your friends as they died and that you may not be able to do anything to help them, that you may lose someone else.

Your phone lay across the room from you, and a brief thought of clarity to call Stiles, or Lydia or Scott, to call any of your friends flashed through your mind but it was dead, too far to reach in your weakened state and drained of battery from being used as a torch even if you did manage to reach it. It felt like everything was against you as your vision faded from the lack of oxygen you were getting into your lungs, your mind spinning on loops, making you feel both sick and dizzy. 

Your body curled in on itself on the cold concrete of the loft floors, a chill sweeping across your skin, and you could barely focus when you turned, finding yourself on your back and staring at the high ceilings. A hand found the back of your head, honey brown eyes peering into your own as you were scooped further up. He was kneeling beside you, legs flooded under himself as he lifted you up a little, and your hands found fistfuls of his shirt, pulling him closer but simultaneously pushing at his chest.

“Y-Y-You left! You a-actually left!” Your words were stuttered out, and he ran a hand over your cheek, eyes wide as he gaped, no idea how to help you, and so in spite of all your struggling, he simply pressed your cheek into his chest, holding you tight to him as you tugged on his shirt. “There are n-no b-blankets, and y-you left!”

“You told me to leave!”

“I didn’t r-really want y-you to!” Your words didn’t make sense, and instead, you just pushed your face into his neck, sobbing into his skin as he held you close. He was stiff and tense, but his arms were wrapped around you and you were clutched to him tightly. 

Eventually, he moved, scooping you up under your legs and holding you tightly to him, his legs a little shaky as he carried you over to the couch, settling back into the cushions with your body still wrapped tightly around him. 

When your sobs calmed a little, his fingers brushed over your arm, soothing you with the patterns until your fingers undid from his shirt, sitting flat on his chest, one pressing over his heart, feeling it pump steadily under your palm, and your head was cushioned against his shoulder when you pulled back enough to get fresh air. 

“You told me to leave.”

This time when he spoke, his voice was barely a whisper, and you swallowed thickly, sucking your lower lips between your teeth and nibbling on it for a moment. You opened your mouth, willing yourself to reply, but only a broken sob left you, your eyes dry as you were all cried out, but sadness once again surged your system. 

He squeezed you tightly once again, his hands stilling, fingers spreading out wide as he held you. “The blankets are stacked in a box beside the door.” You let out a weak laugh, raising your head just enough to look at him, and his lips flicked up at the corners. “You were talking to yourself.”

He shifted you to lie you down on the couch, a yawn on your lips as he padded across the room, fishing out one of the familiar knitted blankets you recognised so well, before he was making his way back over to you, tucking it around your body carefully. He took a seat beside you, and you shuffled, resting your head on his thigh as you let out a shaky breath, your eyes closing as you finally relaxed. “Y’know, I’m supposed to be the one saving you.”

His response was whispered to you, sleep already taking you over as you warmed back up and relaxed happily, one of his hand’s lifting up just enough to settle delicately on his own legs beside your head, his fingers sweeping over your cheekbone. “Maybe we save each other.”

Sleep soon took you over, and you drifted off with the feeling of fingers brushing through your hair, tucking stray strands behind your ears until you were drifting off into unconsciousness, a well-needed sleep. Your body refused to wake until the sun was beginning to peek up over the horizon once again, almost ten hours having passed you by when pale colours were painting the skies as a new day was ushered in.

You jolted upright when the fog over your mind cleared, finding yourself jerkily rising up. There were indents in your cheek from where you’d slept, the man slumped uncomfortably, half keeled over as he dozed, and he slumped further down into the cushions once you left, the weight distribution changing as he huffed in his unconsciousness and rolled over. 

You shrugged the blanket from your shoulders, smiling to yourself as you looked down at the man, draping the soft woollen material over his body. Crouching beside him, your fingers brushed the hair from his eyes, and he pushed his face into your touch sleepily, your hand pulling back rapidly when his eyes opened, fluttering just enough to peer at you tiredly.

“You’re leaving again?”

“Yeah, but I’ll be back this afternoon.” His lips flicked up at the sides, and he opened one eye fully to look at you, the other closed, and if you weren’t mistaken, there was an almost cheeky glint in his opened eye. 

“Promise?”

You huffed out a laugh, nodding your head. “Yeah, I promise.” You told him about the food you’d left for him, and he nodded, soon drifting back off to sleep, your keys in your hand as you tried to shake yourself off for the drive home. 

When you got home, you had taken a shower and changed your clothes, plugging your phone onto charge before getting yourself some breakfast, before calling Stiles to check in with him. He updated you on their progress, because apparently, they had all been working all night too, and had made a little new progress with which or update you on. There were three lists in total, a second banshee from Eichen house had been recruited to assist, and you jotted down everything else, a hand running through the tangles in your hair. 

You packed a bag, collecting up some books and a spare charger to leave at Derek’s another hoodie that Stiles had left at your house and forgotten about that you could wear for now, and give to V later on.

Something had shifted between the two of you, something radical had moved between now and last night, having fallen asleep with the man, letting him ease you back from a panic attack, the air surrounding you both felt different. You were almost anxious on the drive back to see him, your fingers tapping against the wheel as you sat outside for a good while, before eventually shaking yourself down for your unnecessary fears, grabbing your bag from the back of your car and taking them up to the oft with you, choosing to prolong your time by taking all of the stairs, giving yourself a chance to talk.

When you opened the door, you found him looking over his own shoulder, back to the mirror hung up on the wall as he tried to reach his cuts, his shirt in a puddle on the floor, and his head whipped around to look up at you as you closed the door. He fixed you with a bright smile - almost dazzling - upon seeing your return to him. 

Your anxiety slipped away, and you raised a brow, watching as he bowed at the waist to scoop up his shirt and tug it back over his head. You waved the bag at him, showing him the contents, and his eyes lit up as he spied the collection of books hidden within. 

“You brought me books?”

“I brought you the Harry Potter books. They’re very good, and I love them, so don’t fold the pages. I also brought you a bookmark.” You dropped the bag down onto the couch, and he lingered a few feet away from you, and an oddly comfortable silence falling between the two of you. You weren’t sure whether to speak about what happened the night before, or whether to leave it, whether you should thank him again or not. 

He broke your train of thought, the wringing of your hands that you hadn't realised you were doing came to a pause as he spoke. “I ate the food that you left.”

“You worked out how to use the microwave?”

“That what?” The two of you were staring at each other with furrowed brows, and your lips parted, silence settling between the two of you, your heart clenching for him when you realised he must have just eaten it cold, and you made a mental note to teach him how to reheat food, later. Your phone rang, the shrill sound of Stiles’ particular ringtone snapped you from your thoughts, and you fumbled into the pocket of your hoodie to find it. 

“Hey Sti, what’s up?” 

The man across from you stood quietly, moving forward to pick up one of the books, and Stiles took off in an explanation about a breakthrough they had found, the smile dropping from your face as you listened to him. Tapping the front cover of ‘The Philosopher’s Stone’, he took that one, giving you time to talk as he settled on the couch, and you shot him a  reassuring smile, before wandering away into the kitchen for some privacy as the joyful expression dropped from your face. 

What had felt like a vacation for a very short while, a brief period of happiness, was once again coming crashing down around you. They had passwords to unlock the lists, and your foot tapped against the floor as he updated you on new information that had come to light. At some point, your feet had just felt too heavy underneath you anymore, and so you were leaning against the counter, your body shaking as you listened to Stiles read off the names of your friends, and who was worth how much. 

He promised you it would be okay, that you were all doing the best you possibly could to do protect them. You suppressed the sob that wanted to rise in your throat, telling your best friend just how utterly powerless you felt, and he did his best to reassure you. Once he had hung up, you placed the phone down beside you, covering your face with your hands, squeezing your eyes shut as your body trembled. 

You weren’t sure how long you were stood there, nor how loud your phone conversations had been, but you didn’t lift your head again until your name was called from the doorway of the kitchen. You were shocked, he’d never used your name before, you knew he may have caught it from the conversations you’d had, and because you’d never formally introduced yourself, you were surprised he’d learnt it at all. 

He had a hand on the top of the kitchen doorframe, practically filling the space as he looked at you carefully, and you wiped under your eyes, smiling carefully and pushing your phone into your back pocket after lifting it from the counter. You avoided his eyes, clearing your throat of the lump that had formed, before wiping your clammy hands on your oversized hoodie. 

“How far into the book did you get? End of the first chapter yet?”

Your eyes barely flicked up to his as he ignored your words, taking a step towards you before you were looking up again. Your eyes were lined with tears again, and his shoulders slumped as his brows raised, expression morphing into that of a silent question and you swallowed thickly. 

“My friends are going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

Your voice cracked at the end of your sentence, and he closed the gap between you both, one arm wrapping around your body as the other cupped the back of your head pulling you into him softly. Your knees all but buckled from the compassion he offered you, and you’d been held like this by Stiles many-a-time, but something with V was different, it was more, and you couldn’t tell why. 

It wasn’t a burning warmth or a consuming passion, but instead, it was simply a flicker of possibility, the idea that maybe he would come to mean something to you.

He held you up, for as long as he could, before his hands were once again scooping up under your legs to lift you up, and a weak laugh left you, fighting through the tears as deja vu washed over you. He sat down, placing you down beside him, his arm wrapped low around your waist, your legs across his lap as your cheek pressed into his shoulder. His free hand came up, carefully wiping your cheeks free of the tears flowing from your eyes. 

He didn’t ask, he didn’t make you talk, not once.

Instead, he held you, picking up his book and balancing it on your stomach as he began into the second, and third chapter of the book you had brought him. By the time he was ending the third, you were beginning to squirm in his arms, wanting to move without disturbing him, and so he placed the bookmark into the fold of the pages, closing it and placing it down beside you both. 

“You keep looking after me.”

“Someone has to look after you like you looked after me.”

“And that’s you?” You shuffled, moving to look up at him as he shifted, not looking down at you but instead moving to press his cheek to the top of your head, silently tucking you under his chin.

“It could be.”

You hummed, nodding your head quietly and stretching out your arms. Getting yourself up, his hand on your back gave you an assist, pushing you to your feet and resting on your back to keep you steady as he watched you, and you spun on your heel, new happiness and joy filling you as an idea came to mind. “How about a movie and a pizza?”

“You’re staying?”

“Do you want me to go?” You watched him, a genuine smile on his lips as he stood up beside you, your hands fidgeting in front of yourself, a single brow raised, and he took your hands in his to steady them, much like you had done to him several times over the past few weeks as he’d revealed more and more to you about his history.

“No. I don’t. I like it when you’re here with me.”

“Cool.” You grinned, taking one of your hands from his and fishing your phone from your pocket, pulling it up and opening an app to order a pizza. 

“Cool.” He repeated, and you laughed under your breath, shaking your head at the way the word sounded so odd coming from his lips. You moved ordered you both some food, just enough to fill you up, before you were moving away to find the television remotes and instructing him to fetch some drinks from the kitchen as you unfolded the blanket from last night. 

In a split-second decision, you caught his wrist in your hand as he went, turning him around as he looked at you quizzically, and you bounded up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his cheek. A barely present kiss was left on his skin, your mouth barely brushing his cheek, but the tip of your nose followed as you fell back down onto your feet and turned away from him to the television in order to choose a film, not missing the small smile on his lips that was mirrored on your own. 

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 275: YAAAAY but Also AHHHHH

Previously on BnHA: Endeavor was all “I’M FIGHTING TOMURA AND YOU CAN’T STOP ME” and set everything on fire. Unlike SOME people, however, it turns out fire is NOT Tomura’s weakness, so he basically just shrugged it off. But before things could progress any further, AFO was all “psst, go get One for All” and Tomura was all “? One for All?” and Endeavor was all “?? One for All?” and Deku and Kacchan, who were listening in on their earpieces, were all “!!!” Having thus realized that Tomura was targeting him, Deku sped off to lead him somewhere away from the civilians... accompanied by his good friend Bakugou “274 chapters of character development have all been leading up to this” Katsuki. Because like hell are you going to have an EPIC BATTLE with the FINAL VILLAIN without him, you damn nerd. Who’s he going to heroically sacrifice himself for if you’re not there?? Hahh!?

Today on BnHA: Deku and Kacchan fly off to battle Tomura after confusing Endeavor into giving them his location (which wasn’t very hard lmao). En route, Deku finally thinks to ask Kacchan why he’s tagging along, and Kacchan is all “DON’T GET ME WRONG, IT’S JUST BECAUSE I WANT REVENGE ON TOMURA, AND DEFINITELY NOT BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT YOU AT ALL, HOW DARE YOU, WHY WOULD YOU EVEN SAY THAT”, which is super convincing and didn’t make me roll my eyes at all. Anyways so then Tomura shows up and is all “EYO TIME TO KILL YOU NOW” and Deku and Kacchan are all “OH SFFKDFK”, but fortunately Gran shows up to save them in the nick of time, because BnHA is literally the only shounen manga in which grown-ups will see kids trying to lead a battle and be like “lol wtf” and actually try to stop that shit instead of being all “what are your orders, children.” The chapter then ends with the heroes doing EXACTLY WHAT THEY SHOULD BE DOING??Namely, having the guy who can TURN OFF QUIRKS battle the guy with the ultimate death quirk! I’m so proud. But also I swear to god, if Tomura so much as breathes suspiciously in his direction...!! What the fuck. HORIKOSHI.

y’all what in the fresh hell is this bs

not yet there isn’t son but if you keep trolling like this I can give your nervous system something to actually be nervous about

anyway. this was his comment from last week’s issue of Jump, and I have absolutely no idea what it’s referring to, is the fun part! did he cry because of something he was working on in a chapter that’s coming up? or is he just tired from a combination of stressful mangaka schedule + 2020 in general?? or hell, for all I know he just recently watched Titanic or some shit

(ETA: KILLING AIZAWA SHOUTA WOULDN’T MAKE SOMEONE CRY OUT OF JOY, THOUGH. RIGHT?!)

anyways I guess it’s time to read and see if I feel like sadly happily crying for two hours afterward

-- oh shit I just realized there are two scanlations out for this?? one from readjump.com, and one from readheroacademia.com. lol now what. uhhh

lulzes. I guess I’ll go with RHA for now and keep checking back to RJ after each page and I’ll go with whichever translation I liked better

LADIES AND GENTLEMEN, OUR MILLENNIAL VILLAIN

or would he actually be gen z. he was already in his twenties when this manga started like six years ago, so I’m going with millennial. but on the cusp though I guess. anyway, he plays video games though is the point

and I see he’s already decided to contradict me and my inane speculations not two panels in! I GUESS I AM JUST A FOOL. that’s really interesting though. I wonder if it’s just Monoma’s quirk that doesn’t take the accumulated “save data” from the people he copies from, then? guh. how many of my AFO/OFA theory notes do I have to scrap now

and there’s a little quirk blurb about Search, which is fairly useless given that we already know how it works (actually in even greater detail than shown here), but at least it comes with a cute little picture of Ragdoll in her hero costume, to make us all sad and stuff

so anyways Tomura who are you looking at?? this was a topic of some contention last week! also why were you only seeing nine people then. Ragdoll had seen everyone in 1-A along with Aizawa and her fellow Pussycats at a minimum, so is this confirmation that Tora and Mandalay and Pixie-Bob are all really dead then, because I CAN AND WILL HUNT DOWN A MAN AND MAKE HIM CRY FOR A GOOD DEAL LONGER THAN TWO HOURS IF THAT’S REALLY THE CASE. was Kouta not traumatized enough already?? LET’S JUST ORPHAN HIM AGAIN WHY NOT THAT’S A GOOD PLAN

(ETA: I really hate that we are still up in the air regarding this? and I mean, sure, why not, we only had like a dozen lady heroes to begin with, so why not just kill off two more of them, offscreen, in one fell swoop??)

WHAT IS A SHAME. TOMURA. DAMN IT

(ETA: ??)

-- well hello there

OR MAYBE I WAS NOT A FOOL AT ALL?? lol guys. please do not tell me my hobo husband is flying his vengeful ass over to where Tomura all heedless of the danger because I really do not need that just yet. CAN MY FAVORITE CHARACTERS PLEASE FUCKING TAKE TURNS BEING IN TERRIBLE DANGER INSTEAD OF ALL AT ONCE

sob we’re cutting back to Endeavor and Deku and Kacchan. ACTUALLY THAT’S GOOD THOUGH why am I complaining. I’m just gonna have to get used to the fact that no one is going to truly be safe for the next god knows however many chapters, and make my peace with that. hahaha. yeah right

lmao Deku. “HEY WHAT’S UP, ME AND MY FELLOW CHILD HERE ARE GONNA LURE SHIGARAKI TOWARDS US, BUT WE’LL EXPLAIN OUR REASONS FOR THAT LATER. IF YOU SEE HIM MAKING ANY SUDDEN MOVEMENTS PLEASE INFORM US SO AS TO AID US IN THIS PLAN.” Endeavor if you just go along with this I will lose so much respect for you lmao

lol he is trying to argue a bit but then he’s suddenly cutting off. so in hindsight I don’t know why I said “lol”, really. I’M JUST NERVOUS OKAY

btw in the other translation Deku straight up asks if Endeavor can redirect Tomura towards them. “sure no problem bucko, let me just tell the walking apocalypse exactly where he can find you, my two sixteen-year-old interns whose safety I am responsible for. I was just thinking to myself that I hadn’t had my fill of crazy ill-thought-out plans with a high risk of death today”

holy --

okay I have not the SLIGHTEST clue what’s going on here, even after analyzing both scans, except that someone, probably Tomura, either just went CRONCH or just GOT cronched just now lmao. let us read on to find out who was cronched and who did the cronching

the rest of this page is not really much more helpful

but I am becoming increasingly suspicious that those were in fact Tomura’s new, improved and ridiculously thicc legs doing the cronching as he did a Marvel Superhero Landing from the most RIDICULOUS ANGLE POSSIBLE

LMAO NOW WHAT

so he just cronched onto the ground and fooshed Endeavor and then went flying off again huh

LMAO AT EVERYTHINNNNNG

THANK YOU ENJI. HE’LL LURE HIM AWAY. lols WHY THE FUCK DID YOU TELL THEM WHICH WAY HE WAS HEADED YOU BOOB

he really just fucking hung up on him afterwards too. just, “got it thanks amigo just leave everything to me, [CLICK]”

OH MY GOD

BECAUSE WE CAN’T HAVE ANYONE ELSE CONVENIENTLY INTERFERING WHEN YOU HAVE YOUR LITTLE THROWDOWN OF DESTINY HUH. THAT WOULD JUST BE TERRIBLE

-- oh shit

that’s just. a SLIGHT change in meaning, there. silly me. thinking “get rid of them” meant “get rid of their communications as opposed to FUCKING KILLING THE ONE YOU’RE NOT ACTUALLY AFTER. hmm. well that’s not good

(ETA: never have I been so happy that a translation was wrong lmao.)

so now Endeavor’s shouting at everyone else that Tomura is heading southwest and that he has “SUPER REGENARTION” (sic) and is no longer THE SAME THUG HE WAS BEFORE and yeah RHA you have officially won me over, flaws and all. listen up boyos. this ain’t your granddaddy’s Shigaraki Tomura. this one regenars

also “that damn kid...” like why the hell did my son have to go and befriend two protagonists. why is this my life now

AHAHAHAHA

“MIDORIYA IS IN DANGER...!!” STORY OF THIS MANGA. AHAHA. KACCHAN HE’S COMING. HE’S COMING, KACCHAN. for you two. someone please help me I am both terrified and thrilled beyond all recognition and my body doesn’t know how to handle the conflicting emotions. honestly crying for two hours is starting to sound more and more appealing

oh my god I forgot they didn’t know, though

fff. Kacchan especially didn’t know, because unlike Deku he doesn’t have random bits of other people’s souls going “heyyyyyyy... transcendent being at 12 o’clock.” what has this kid so bravely and stupidly gone and gotten himself into

look at them go

damn Deku can you really not float yet?? that’s going to be really inconvenient if that’s the case

(ETA: my boy really would have just straight up died. he would have died so hard.)

OH MY GOD

NOW YOU WANT TO ASK HIM LMAOOOO. well it’s because of all the character development!! if you must know

THAT’S NOT AN ANSWER BLASTY MCANGERTY

you’re not as smooth as you think you are, you know. we all know why you actually followed him. but fine, be that way

okay so now he’s giving a real-er answer though

“understand the situation”, the situation being that your best friend and his secret-trump-card-in-the-battle-against-evil quirk were being targeted by the guy who just obliterated this entire city. got it. you put it quite succinctly

and Deku is all

and Kacchan is all

love how he throws that protagonist crack in there too. because we all know that Deku absolutely is the protagonist lol, and so if that part’s obviously not true, we can make some inferences about the rest of what he’s saying too now can’t we

ohhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh snap

YOU SURE DO!! and he does with you too!! :) it’s gonna be one big happy reunion! :) :) :) oh gosh golly

OH NO KATSUKI WHAT ARE YOU DOING

what are you doing to me, I should clarify. please be considerate of my feelings. you can’t just DUMP sudden Kacchan Kamino Angst on me without any warning, you have to let me know in advance so that I can buy some thank you cards

THERE’S MOREEEEE???

YOU REMEMBER TOO, DON’T YOU DEKU. HE WAS ALL CRYING AND STUFF. IT WAS A LOT. IT’S POSSIBLE THAT I HAVE NEVER PERSONALLY GOTTEN OVER IT

AND IT LOOKS LIKE HE NEVER QUITE GOT OVER IT EITHER

:’)

by the way in the other translation he says “I’ll make up for what I did that day.” so yeah. BOOM. right to the heart. shot of me collapsing to the ground in slow motion

but it’s interesting though that he still can’t admit to having selfless motives yet! even after everything he’s been through and all his character growth! he’s still all GET RID OF THE REFERENCES TO ME CARING ABOUT YOU, WE CAN’T LET PEOPLE KNOW WE HAVE FEELINGS

but even his Kamino feels are notably first and foremost about him feeling responsible for failing All Might. so yeah, buddy. where does that leave you? even your feeble excuses are still rooted in selflessness, JUST GIVE IN AND ADMIT YOU’VE BEEN SECRETLY GIVING A SHIT BEHIND EVERYONE’S BACK. and honestly he might be better off at this point if he didn’t! BUT HE DOES. and that’s that

anyways Deku I sure hope you and your big hero brain can see right through this nonsense

god. you’re both in so much danger though, do you even have any idea?! of course you fucking don’t. god

HELLO BAKUGOU NARRATION!?!

well that’s one hell of a rare sight!! all fresh and chock full of shrewd observations about his best rival’s current skillset. ah what a time we’re living in

ooooh

gonna hold off commentary until I read the next part of this lol

OOOOOH

goddamn. Horikoshi really went off this week. just a whole chapter’s worth of Stuff Makeste Really Likes, goddamn is it my birthday or what

so do you guys think he’ll be able to keep pace all the way up to 100%? I can see this part being interpreted in two totally different ways if I’m being honest. on the one hand we have the more pessimistic (some would say realistic) view that Bakugou is desperately trying to convince himself that he’s still on the same level as the rival he so desperately wants to surpass, but with the sinking feeling that he’s actually not going to be able to keep up for much longer. and then on the other side of the coin we have the more glass-half-full perspective that he actually is capable of keeping up with him right to the bitter end. that even as Deku grows stronger, he’ll continue to push himself and use that as motivation to keep getting stronger too. that Deku isn’t out of reach; that his goal isn’t out of reach

and I’m not completely sure which way this is leaning myself! I personally would like to lean more towards the second interpretation, because y’all know I love me some rivals. and also because imo one of the most commendable things about Bakugou’s development has been how he hasn’t once been envious of Deku’s strength or of his position as All Might’s chosen heir since he learned about OFA. he hasn’t once shown any kind of resentment towards him for it, or doubted whether or not he deserves it. and as minor a detail as that may seem to some people, I cherish it. and I don’t want that to change! but I guess we shall see

so now we’re getting the clearest shot we’ve had yet of the new AFO holes in Tomura’s palms as he gets ready to combine some more quirks. also! more information about the quirks he has and is using! fucking thank you, where was this last week

so “radio waves” is clearly going to be used here to disrupt the heroes’ communication, which is a shame for them, but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t relieved given the alternative! the RJ translation is clearly just a hot mess lol. but I still adore that one “I’ll make up for what I did” line though

WOW

THE DISRESPECT. LOL DID YOU JUST FUCKING KILL HIS ASS

(ETA: I just realized he’s nowhere to be found after this, though, so... did he?? or is he now lying somewhere now all wounded and waiting to be found by one, or, dare I say, two of his sons? ...)

LKDFJLSDKGHOSIDGHOISDflkwejfdfsdklggdflgnfdlgndakgalkgldfdfkwlfwiowelKLDSGKSL:DKGJL:DKFM?G?SGSDLKG?SDFSDF??LKJ@L!

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT HOLY SHIT

even if you ask him nicely??! somehow I just can’t help feeling that he probably shouldn’t oblige you, though!?!?!

anyways. THAT AIN’T SAFE. and what the hell is happening in that bottom left corner ahhhhhh

AHHHHHHH

GRAN DM ME YOUR ADDRESS I WANT TO SEND YOU SOME FLOWERS AND A BASKET OF FRUIT AND CRACKERS AND SOME LITTLE CHEESES AND SAUSAGES

jesus christ it completely slipped my mind that there was one other person currently in the vicinity who knows about OFA. my good sir, maybe you would like to introduce these two dunderfucks to the concept of a “plan.” and maybe you can also find the single shared braincell they apparently dropped and lost somewhere back there in all the city rubble

oh fuck me

(ETA: does Kacchan look so rattled here because he is being lectured, or because he just saw a vision of his own death and is now having it explained to him just how close he came to being decomposed. you decide! I’ll just sit here and bask in the angst.)

fuck. main character gods were really working overtime here. anyways so how are you all doing this fine Friday afternoon. me, I’m just sitting here wrangling with the knowledge that Tomura’s quirk is even deadlier than I realized, and that my two little boys came within inches of dying horrible deaths just now. but anyways it’s not as humid today as it was yesterday so that’s really nice

anyways so now Gran is continuing to lecture the mayor of Dumb Ideas Town here, along with his friend the deputy mayor who still thinks he outranks the actual mayor

SHH NOW AND LISTEN TO YOUR GRANDPA

-- ohhhh shit son are they mounting a counterattack?? don’t tell me!!

also is Gran seriously faster than Tomura. that makes no fucking sense, and yet these two are only alive now because of it so I’M SURE NOT GONNA QUESTION IT

YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

AND IS AIZAWA ON HER BACK THOUGH???

AHAHHAHAHAHAHA

AH, BUT IT AIN’T GONNA WORK THOUGH, IS IT!!! AHAHAHA YESSSSSS

excellent question sir. the short answer is “they’re idiots”, and the long answer is just a longer version of “they’re idiots” but with some more complicated BakuDeku feels mixed in. I’ll tell you all about it if you just promise me that you’ll actually live through this, all right?

“is he after the two of them?” listen boy if you don’t finally put two and two together after this I’m gonna be fucking beside myself lol. (though honestly, Deku and Kacchan have been targeted by the League so many other times already that he might just simply accept “yeah they’re after them again” without any further explanation)

my dear gentlefolk would you fucking look at how the lord has blessed us on this day

Aizawa Fucking Shouta and the motherfucking dramatic intro to end all dramatic intros. finally this man gets his moment

someone please teach me how to cast a force field. teach me how to reach into the manga and slap this man and tell him to stop talking about how everyone’s noble sacrifices to protect him and his eraser quirk have led him to this day and to this one encounter. my guy. my fucking dude. THERE HAD BETTER BE SUBSEQUENT ENCOUNTERS AFTER THIS

NOOOOOOOOOOOO

ISN’T HE THOUGH??? Tomura I love you sweetie but you better BACK THE FUCK. OFF

well FINE THEN! BE THAT WAY. it’s not like my life revolves around you and your stupid manga anyway!! it’s not like I’m obsessed with it or anything!! I have other hobbies!! well I actually do have other hobbies, so that doesn’t really work as sarcasm, so let’s see though. maybe something more like, “this isn’t by far my favorite out of all my hobbies!!” I don’t spend 80-90% of my free time on any given day either actively or passively daydreaming about this series and writing essays in my head and reading fanfic and scrolling through art on tumblr!! etc.!! whatever!! enjoy your break!! have fun living your life!!

please don’t kill Aizawa

[krreader]

my pleasure.

pairing: kim seokjin x reader fandom: bts warnings: sugar daddy!jin ; mentions of sex genre: fluff ; hints of smut word count: 1.5k+

summary: yes, this was an agreement between you and jin, but sometimes it didn’t feel like it.. it almost felt.. natural.

a/n: aaaah, thank you so much for your request angel, I hope your first request doesn’t let you down ♥

This was such a nice change, waking up to rays of sunshine hitting your face and not your alarm clock while it was still dark outside.

Waking up in silk sheets and not in your old bed sheets that you hadn't washed in a while because you simply didn't have time for that.

Waking up not filled with stress and anxiety, but completely relaxed and happy.

People might judge you for the job you now had, but only because of the prejudices it brought with it. If they knew what kind of life you were living now, you were sure that 90% of them would consider switching to this life too.

Your hand reached out, wanting to feel the warmth of the one that made this all possible, but your hand was only met with coldness instead.

He must have left a while ago.

Forcing yourself to open your eyes and look around, you realised that there was no sight of him whatsoever. The clothes he wanted to wear today were gone, his belongings as well and all you were left with was the faint smell of his cologne.

And as if he had installed cameras here – which you really hoped he didn't, or that would kind of ruin your perfect little fantasy – you got a text from said man that made you smile instantly.

“It was so much fun last night. Thank you for everything.”

You've been doing this for almost a year, he paid you for being his, but not really being his and yet he always thanked you for it.

You quickly prepped up the pillows behind you and let your fingers glide over the letters on your phone.

“I wish you could have stayed a bit longer.. would have loved to go for round two.”

Jin smirked as he was sitting in his make-up chair, quickly sending you a photo with the caption, “I had to leave early so I could look like this, my love.”

Your heart immediately pounded harder in your chest, biting your lip and pulling your phone a little closer, “Ah, so handsome. Just as handsome as you looked last night on top of me, daddy.”

Jin began to squirm in his seat, apologising when he saw his stylist look at him disapprovingly, before quickly and discreetly replying one last time.

“Not while I'm working, baby girl, you know that. I'm going to call when I'm done. Make sure to pick up.”

And with that you knew that the conversation was over.. at least for now.

If anyone were to have a conversation with you about the pro's and con's of your job, you doubted you could name any con's. You were living the best life you've ever lived with minimum effort. Because being with Seokjin, sleeping with Seokjin.. that wasn't something that you had to do, it was something that you genuinely wanted to do.

The first time you slept together wasn't because of an agreement, it was because you had met each other at a party, hit it off and then went home together. It was only afterwards that he suggested this arrangement and you had agreed in a heartbeat. Because why wouldn't you?

Sure, the first thoughts that came into your mind were: is this degrading?

But the more you thought about it, the more you realised.. no. You didn't feel ashamed for doing this. For you this was more pleasure than business after all. Of course, you didn't outright say to your family: “I'm a sugar baby”, but you told them that you were making business with someone very important and that that was the reason you were earning so much nowadays.

You quickly jumped under the shower, then got dressed and ended up going to a nearby café for breakfast.

The reason you went here was because you've been so often at this point that you and one of the girls that worked here have become really good friends.

And she was someone that knew precisely what you were doing for work.

“Ah, I'm so jealous,” she sighed deeply, “I admit, when you first told me about this all, I was judging you really hard, but I realise that it's actually such a good job if you genuinely like the man you're spending time with.”

You smiled sympathetically at her and leaned over the table to put your hand over hers, “I told you that he has a lot of friends that I could introduce you to..”

“You make it sound like a prostitution ring.”

“It's not.. really. Because some of them aren't even looking for sex, they're just looking for a bit of normality. Someone they can have a conversation with that doesn't revolve around their jobs.”

You would never force her to do something that she didn't want to do, but you also knew that she was curious about this lifestyle and if she really wanted to see what it was like, you might as well help her out. And you meant what you said.

This whole business wasn't always about sex.

Take you, for example.

Yes, you did sleep with Jin, but that wasn't what your relationship was about. What he truly needed was someone to listen to him, someone that could just be with him and understand him. Someone that he could feel at home with. You provided all of this.. which is why you got along so well.

For you, sex was just a side activity that you liked to do with each other when you were feeling like it.

The rest of your day was quite uneventful. You just walked around the city some more, went grocery shopping and then went home, putting down your groceries just when your phone started ringing, answering it within the first few seconds.

“Hello, handsome.”

“Are you home?” Jin asked.

“Just got here. I'm about to make dinner.. do you think you can make it within the next hour?”

“I'm ten minutes away, love,” he chuckled, “I'll be right there.”

If you had heard that nine months ago, you would have hurried into the bathroom and would have put a little more effort into your look to impress him.

But you felt so comfortable around him these days, make-up or not.

Might have something to do with the fact that he always complemented you and pushed up your confidence to the sky.

So you just started cooking instead, smiling at him when he entered the kitchen, clearly exhausted.

“Oh, boy,” you chuckled a little, “Hard day, huh?”

“It's just gotten ten times better,” he hugged you from behind, breathing in your scent and gently rocking you from side to side, “I missed you so much, my love.”

And even though this was an agreement, it was easy to forget in moments like these.

It was so domestic.. like he wasn't your sugar daddy, but.. your husband.

“I missed you too.. dinner will be ready soon, so how about you take a quick shower, relax and we have dinner in bed tonight?” you carefully turned around in his arms to look at him.

“You treat me too well,” he kissed your forehead, then did exactly what you just told him to do.

You stared after him for a while, only catching yourself doing so after a few minutes and quickly shaking your head.

Lately, this idea of love wasn't something you could push out of your mind anymore. It was weird, it made you feel fuzzy and you weren't sure if you should feel that way.. not that you could change it.

But Jin.. he acted differently too, so this wasn't just your fault.

The way he acted towards you nowadays, of course you'd start to feel things.. more things, deeper things, for him.

And when you ended up eating in bed later that night, watching shitty TV and him and you talking about the other one's day.. you felt so.. at peace.

Home.

Like this is where you belonged.

“You've been thinking a lot, haven't you?” he whispered, gently brushing a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Is it that obvious?” you smiled a little.

“To me it is.. so tell me. What is it?”

Other people in your situation would be scared to bring up this topic in fear of ruining what they had.. but not you. You felt like the answer you were going to get was exactly what you were hoping for.

“I'm just really happy lately, you know? Here.. with you.. this isn't where I imagined myself to be eventually, but.. I'm glad I ended up here.”

The corner of Jin's mouth curled into a smile, “Go on.”

“I just can't help but wonder.. what the future has in store for us. And.. I mean.. a possible future without contract.”

Jin sat up a little straighter, mostly just to look at you properly, “The only reason I ever set up a contract in the first place was because I needed security because of my job. But I won't always have that job.. and everything that comes after.. I want to share with you.”

“So.. we're on the same page here?”

“I think.. we have been from the start, love.”

And that's probably why it worked out the way it had.

And why it continued to do so for years after.

[leam1983]

It’s the end of the work week and, well...

I’m having thoughts on labor culture.

My father was born in 1958. He lived as the son of an absent father of five children who had no ability to truthfully express his love and care, and who instead chose to bury himself in work as a means to display his commitment. My paternal grandfather made and sold mattressees and died quite young of a cancer strain that today would’ve seemed benign. He was described as a hard worker, either up to his neck in his business or wanting just a scant few hours per day to himself. It made an aloof lover out of him and a distant father - who still loved his wife and children to bits but who felt emotionally castrated in a sense, as were men of the era.

The family consensus is that his work killed him.

My father is now 65 and survived a bout of Non-Hodgkinian Lymphoma. The oncologist and anyone with half a brain agreed that stress was the culprit. Early on, Dad had the family as an excuse for his tendency to overwork. He had to provide for us, after all, and garnish my mother’s meagre savings. All she has is her government-issued pension plan, while my father does have his own pension as a retiree of the City of Montreal’s Real-Estate Appraisal service. Considering, he felt obligated to pull a heavier load to bring in more, so they’d have better investment opportunities. Later on, he kept working out of a sense of fealty and attachment to his division, breaking out of retirement during the pandemic to join the work-from-home team. He wanted to help techs and city officials find ways to bring more of the traditionally snail-mail-based parts of the system online so the city’s Land Management service wouldn’t be paralyzed by COVID-19. What was supposed to be a single month turned into four, which turned into twelve.

By the end, they were begging him to stay on the team and to pull longer hours. We’re talking twenty hours per day, in some particularly grueling stretches. That means being logged in by breakfast and scarfing bagels down with Urban Design techs on Zoom instead of your own family, or having supper with your boss because she needs a play-by-play of the situation to stave off her executive anxiety.

Long story short, I didn’t see Dad much during the first wave. His reasoning was that he’d eventually stop, pool all this cash, and chuck it into his and Mom’s Registered Retirement Savings Account - with maybe an extra two thou or so in case the country reopened enough for their postponed trip to Cuba to take place.

Guess what? His zona flared up and he ended up with odd, shingly bumps along his scalp which to this day the local dermatologist grimaces at and tentatively has us dab with cortisone cream.

Mom, though? She’s a retired and registered nurse with a self-negating streak and a chronic propensity to undervalue her own physical ailments. Someone who quite literally understands the pain of busted hips on a clinical level because she was trained in Gerontology - and also someone who refuses to schedule an appointment with her GP and who inexplicably self-medicates with white wine.

As for me, I’m a 37 year-old man with a paycheck I consider massive with its meagre six bucks above the minimum-wage threshold - someone who chose to shack in with his folks until the current crisis ends and who therefore has a history of a single, willingly terminated apartment lease that originally began in the Planned Housing market. The apartment I want is basically a Barbie doll house for adults, a gleaming fantasy I’ll never have enough capital to touch unless I feel like trying my hand with criminal applications of my skills. The apartment I can get right now is a shithole, and I have the audacity to think I deserve a shithole that at least wasn’t someone’s former cockroach den.

Now here’s the kicker: I value my sanity and my health. I know my mental stamina levels and I know from experience that after working seven-point-five hours per day with the occasionally shorter Friday, I’ve found my limit. I could invest more if I worked more, yes, and I’m already in a better position than my parents, retirement-wise. I’ll never be rich, but I’m already set to be comfortable, provided I don’t spend my golden years trying to make it as an unsponsored TechTuber or anything else that’s equally ludicrous.

Where that’s a problem is in the toxicity this is generating. See, I have the gall to slide my daily schedule later so I can start at an hour that fits my biological clock and ends at an hour where I’m at my most creative. That means the folks saw me spending my pandemic mornings on Animal Crossing while Dad was trying to wrangle Excel spreadsheets for non-tech-savvy fellow Boomers while preventing the dog from eating his meeting notes. That means they guzzled vinho verde like it was Kool-Aid after seven while I made sure to find more concrete means to distance myself from work - ideally ones that didn’t involve functional alcoholism.

Naturally, what was bound to happen, happened: Dad soon spent his evenings calling me shiftless or “unwilling to commit”, while I was stuck watching him miss all the cues his stressed-out body were sending him. We already had Trump’s last desperate months and a global plague to handle, I really didn’t want my work to turn into more of a nuisance than it already is. I already love the people I work for and hate what I do (repeating the family cycle, it seems), but I’ve at least decided to give myself ample Me time every single day. 

I’ve paired that with smaller, if consistent portfolio investments, along with a few new habits I wanted to get into to stay saner. Dad pulls crosswords or plays competitive chess in the wee hours, while I usually lay down to meditate around midnight and fall asleep by 1 AM at the latest. I’m half-expecting my father to pull a Tyler Durden and to sneer at me, at some point. “Self-care is masturbation,” he’d probably say.

Looking at classifieds for rentals, it’s obvious that the entire system is predicated on abuse. Work yourself down to the therapist’s office, right down to the fucking bone, and you just might earn a half-decent retirement because nobody’s taught you to invest incrementally. Nope, Society seems to say, you’re supposed to buy, buy and buy some more, until you realize you have ten years left to start from scratch!

I remember Dad’s face on my eighteenth birthday. “Why would you want a Disability Care Savings Account, Brain? You just turned into a legal adult by Canadian standards - you’re in no rush, right?”

I told him the real gift I wanted for my birthday, that day, was a ride to the family’s Financial Investments counsel. I pulled up the PDFs I’d printed out and filled and brought them over. From then on, if I dropped a penny in my nest-egg, Ottawa would drop another one. If my share grew, so did the government’s. In the twenty-odd years since, it’s expanded exponentially.

Dad thought I’d done this to have a big cushion by the time I’d retire. Mom thought I’d done this in case my disability worsened and I started requiring equipment or physical assistance. Honestly, my dumb, if slightly prescient eighteen year-old self figured I’d rather spend my time reading or playing video games than working. I knew I’d need something to help cushion my admittedly low career-related ambitions. I might throw several thousands at a new computer every seven to eight years, but that’s because I’ve saved them up for just as long, little by little. I have no vices beyond what sillicon offers and what you’d find in the pages of a book and don’t exactly need a big ‘ol, stonkin’ humidor stuffed with conoisseur stogies.

I have a shoebox with a poked-out Ziploc bag and a sponge, with a handful of joints and a few Santa Anas I got off of a buyer’s pool from work. Five of us occasional chair-bar goons pooled cash together on Cigar Chief and cushioned prices with a single, shared and massive order. I’m nowhere near rich, but assuming the housing market can catch its breath eventually, I’ll be able to live modestly - with one or two markers of occasional luxury I’ll have chosen.

I have a shittier job than my father has had and I’ve chosen to be happier than him. It’s just sad that the usual response elevates overwork as the supposedly one, true way to leave a mark in society.

No, Dad. I don’t want to die while my own cells eat me alive, I want to die blazed out of my fucking mind, happy because I’ll have had time to enjoy my friends’ company and to finally make some sense out of Kerouac’s Subterraneans or to figure out what the fuck is going on in Joyce’s Illiad. I’ll die crusty as shit and fulfilled as a Pop Culture jockey, because I’ll have either finished Persona 5: Golden in my lifetime or I’ll have watched the entirety of the MCU’s output before Disney finally manages to kill their golden goose.

I want to die decades from now, feeling like I at least owned my choices and didn’t spend my time tethered to someone else’s professional expectations of me.