#I think those ten hours of not driving helped me survive

[gentleoverdrive]

[16/300] Science has failed Mother Earth

Was remembering the time the band I played in from 2000 to 2005 drove the Interstate 10 back in 2002. I remember it well because it was the first tour we did as a 7-piece. There were other factors, but as far as it pertains to our story, that's all that matters. ---- The trek was from Sarasota to West Hollywood, it lasted almost two days (42-to-43 hours), we stopped a total of 6 times, mostly for gas, to grab food & drinks and to take care of the basic physiological businesses a human needs to do... and I think we ended up getting like 16k from both gigs. I still remember that tour was one of the first ones where we ended up "in the black", financially speaking. ---- My first driving shift lasted 16 hours, then the bass player drove 4 hours, followed by the keyboard + FOH engineer doing a 6 hour shift and afterwards I drove the rest of the way myself, which I think it ended up being a little under 16 hours. Again, it was almost two days of non-stop driving. ---- I don't think we stopped for more than 5 minutes except for one time, which if memory doesn't completely fail me was in, like, El Paso... or was it Las Cruces? I just remember we stopped because our guitar tech had to throw up from something spoiled he had chowed down. so I'm thinking it was Las Cruces. ---- I drank like three big fucking cylinders of black coffee with skinny milk (don't judge) to stay awake. I recall telling Greg from DEP like a year later about our little East Coast to West Coast odyssey and him laughing his ass off. I think him and Liam did a similar drive from Baltimore to LA to record Ire Works but they ended up getting high as shit in the grand canyon or something. ---- I don't know if there's a lesson to be learned from all of this, but I do know that I don't wish that drive upon anybody. Time is money, I guess? Whatever, read ya' later, alligator!

[c-h-i-m-es]

gojo satoru

in which you and gojo go shopping + being proud parents of megumi

you are finishing some paperworks about your last mission when you are interrupted by the continuous ringing of your doorbell. groaning, you get out of your couch and open the door, "i told you to just press the doorbell once." you step aside to let him in.

"there's no fun in that though." he takes off his shoes and puts on his own house slippers you got for him because he is at your place more than at his own. might as well give him the extra house keys you have to him. he goes in the kitchen while you go back to your work, "what are you here for satoru?"

gojo returns back with a chilled drink in his hand, "let's go shopping." he sits next to you and wraps an arm around your shoulder. "can't. i have to finish this."

holding your chin, he turns your face to make you look at him, his usual playful smirk on his lips, "you know this is just a waste of time." you roll your eyes playfully at his comment and slap his hand away from your face, "still have to do it though."

you don't have to look at his face to know he has a pout on his face, "get it done in ten minutes then." he rests his head on the couch and lifts his hips a little to take his phone out of his pocket.

"why do you have to go shopping all of a sudden?" you turn your head to look at him smiling, like showing a genuine smile, "our first years are being promoted you see. so i just wanna buy them something as a congratulations."

moments like these make you remember that behind his childish and carefree mask he puts on, he really does care about the people around him.

your face lightens up and you fully turn your body to him, with a gasp, "they are? why didn't you tell me earlier?" you hit him on his arm and get off the couch, "let me get ready."

"thought you were busy." ignoring his comment, you enter your room and start getting ready.

about an hour passes and you are in gojo's car, him driving to the mall. "what should we get them?" you think of something they'll like and could be useful, "i do know what nobara would like so that is not a problem but what do the boys like?"

"if i knew that, i wouldn't have asked you to come with me." he chuckles and you act offended, "keep up with those comments and i will drop your ass alone."

he looks at you for a split second through his glasses, "like you could live without me." you look at him with a raised brow, "is that a challenge?"

"i don't know, you tell me. are you up for a challenge?" he asks in his teasing tone. you scoff, "alright, survive one week without me. i bet you'll come back begging for me."

"you're on babe. but let's get the kids something first yeah?" you don't know what to focus on. the fact that he called you 'babe' or that he called the students 'kids' like his own.

you curse at him in your head as he made you feel uneasy (flustered) with his words. you nod as look out the window, "yeah sure."

another ten minutes and you've finally reached the mall. you both walk in and immediately notice the mall having more people than normal, "woah why are there so many people?"

"right. like it's weekday. are they unemployed or what?" you chuckle at his reply and walk towards a clothing store. "let's look around and see if we find something of their choice?" you ask as you look up at gojo.

he nods at you, "sure. whatever you say." you cringe (blush) at his words and walk ahead while he follows behind you as you look through the shelves.

an hour long the shopping spree, you've bought the boys some (quite a lot) clothes they could wear out and you also got the three first years as well as yourself and gojo matching pjs so you could have pajama party later.

"i think nobara would really like this one." you let gojo smell the perfume you picked out for nobara, "what do you think?" he shrugs, "smells nice?" you shake your head, "you're really no help. tell me what do you think is better." you look around and spray on some other testers.

"i mean i love the perfume you use, but i wouldn't want kugisaki to use the same one as you." you try to hide your face from him as you look away, "why would you say that?"

he chuckles to himself, "i don't wanna remember anyone else but you when i smell that scent." you couldn't help but chuckle at his words as you look back at him, "i am gonna ignore that."

he smiles and takes another tester to spray, "it's so difficult to get kids these days something." you let out a small laugh, "you're talking like a dad satoru."

"tell me about it." he sounds proud for some reason, "i mean i was totally a father figure for megumi. do you remember that one time we went to his teacher-parent meeting and his teacher told us that we are such a happy family?"

you laugh remembering the event. gojo was not feeling like going alone so you went to megumi's school with him and the teachers as well as the parents assumed that you two were his parents and were telling you how nice of a family you three are. you also remember some moms giving you both advices on parenthood.

"yeah and i also remember you being so proud telling everyone that we were his parents." you spray another tester and finally it smells like something nobara would really like, "woah this one is really nice." gojo comes close to you, his chest touching your back as he bends a little to smell the tester you just sprayed.

"mm.. yeah it is nice. let's get this one." he looks at you and smirks as you narrow your eyes at him and softly push his face away from you, "yeah i wanna get something for myself as well."

by the time you are out of the store, you ended up buying yourself and your three boys each some perfumes as well. "this is so much fun." you giggle as gojo takes the bags from your hand. his smooth ass also taking your hands in his in the process like it isn't anything unusual and intertwines your fingers.

"we should do this often." he looks at you with a smile, making you smile as well. "but let's get some food now. i am so hungry."

you nod your head, "uh huh. we also need to buy something else for nobara." you pout as you look around to see for some store with nice clothes on display, "we got the boys clothes and perfume. i gotta buy my girl something else as well."

"we got her pajamas?" he pulls you closer to him as there are a lot of people around, but little do you know that it is just an excuse. "that doesn't count. we got 'em for everyone."

he chuckles as he shakes his head, "okay woman. let's grab a bite first, yeah?" you nod and rest your head on his arms, getting tired of all the walking, "i am so tired. but i am so excited to give these to them." you speak excitedly as you wrap your arm around his and smile, "i am so proud of them."

he smiles looking at your face, "yeah.. me too."

a/n: posted jjk for some change :P hope you liked it!

[gatheringbones]

genuine question: how do you stand the loneliness? i'm in my mid 20s and ive never been loved in a way that didnt hurt. i dont want to have to run after ppl begging for the smallest scrap of affection anymore but i keep turning up ppl who, even though they are interested in me and seem generally decent, arent ready to lower their walls and let me in, so its either that or nothing, and im so fucking lonely. i try to bury myself in work and going out as much as i can, but sometimes it hits me, and i dont know how to stand it anymore. i just want to be able to be kind to someone and treat them with all the love and affection i have, and not have to guard myself at the same time or be afraid of them or feel like i can never be sure with them. i think you've been lonely like that for a long time, too, and i dont have anyone who understands. i know the only advice you can give is probably "endure and continue to have self respect", but i dont know how to do that without also becoming small, and sad, and worn out from all the loneliness. if there's anything you can think of that helped you get through it, please tell me--i dont want to burden or overwhelm you, but i dont know what to do anymore, and like i said, you seem like you've survived a couple of those sorts of droughts and i dont have anyone else to talk to about this

so on those first few early dates with c when she was either driving an hour up north or I was taking the bus two hours down to see her, I was so rattled by the experience of building intimacy with someone else that I couldn’t really think of what we ought to do with each other on our dates. In the end I decided: we would just do what I ordinarily did to build intimacy with myself, which meant taking lots of long walks all over residential seattle. and I’d been living there for over ten years at that point, getting around either by walking or by bus. before that I’d lived in the sticks. before that I’d lived in the part of the sticks that wasn’t connected to the power grid. my earliest memories are long lonely walks. long lonely walks were my primary coping mechanism for debilitating post traumatic stress and survivor’s guilt. and with c it was wild because. it was exactly like going on these walks with myself, only I was more of myself and these walks were more of what they were. what’s more the internal map of the city I had built in my feet over a decade was suddenly of use. all of the time and neurons I had put into building it were relevant to the present situation.

i packed a backpack once. water and a cheeseboard with a little cheese knife and a can of prosecco and a can of kirin for c and lots of little cheeses and salamis and fruits and veggies and chocolate almonds. And I took c on a long meandering walk that I knew from memory; fremont to the crown hill cemetery to the stairs leading down to golden gardens to the beach at sunset. all places I’d been by myself and taken my friends to before. places I’d taken myself to after packing myself a snack and bringing my journal and quite literally staring across the water at a home that would kill me if I ever returned to it. all that time mattered. the time I had spent in that place making those friendships and mourning that life and building that intimacy with myself and the city mattered.

All the years before— giving, giving, gifts to those who could not care, would not give back. How well we made a feast together. Those years of waste were over.

[pynkhues]

growing up in a cattle station family in rural Australia has its own very real baggage

curious to know more about this

(x)

Mmm, I mean, rural Australia is its own beast, I guess, anon? My mum's from Mareeba which is way up in rural FNQ and her father / my grandfather worked in agriculture up there, so I've spent a lot of time in those sorts of towns, and while it's different from the region Sam grew up in, rural culture in Australia - particularly rural agricultural life - is generally isolating, politicised, cut off from services from healthcare to schools (I don't know why Sam went to school in Sydney obviously, but at the same time I Know Why because rural schools are underresourced, understaffed, and basically agricultural schools) and sometimes even the internet (I've worked in towns where a portable library in a truck would come to towns once a week and would literally be the only internet that town would get as the broadband infrastructure didn't work), and plagued by natural disasters - the area he grew up in in particular is extremely vulnerable to devastating bush fires almost every year.

For context, Australia's landmass is a similar size to the US, but where America's population is 335 million, Australia's population is 26 million. So think about the US, then subtract 210 million people. That's reflected in the economy, it's reflected in regional services, it's reflected in accessibility, it's reflected in capacity for community and connection, it's reflected in everything, because the myth about parts of the country being unliveable is exactly that - a myth. People live - and have lived for tens of thousands of years - all over this country, and Australia's small population size is reflective really of an attempted genocide of Indigenous peoples, the country's global status as a fairly weak middle power, a small economy, a 'young' country in terms of colonisation (Australia was colonised in 1788, but we have the longest still living culture in Aboriginal Australians, who've been here for at least 65,000 years), and, frankly, our historically racist immigration policies.

But putting that aside - - a personal anecdote; when I was at the writers centre, we helped facilitate a workshop with a food writer in the town of Julia Creek, which is a town of about 500 people (it was a part of a broader tour of rural Q). In that, one woman in attendance had driven 10 hours to come, 4 hours of which were her driving off her own sheep station. That might sound nice, but remember a lot of this landscape out there is this:

(Julia Creek!)

Or the Monaro region, where Sam's from, is a lot of the time like this:

It took that woman four hours to drive from her front door to even a road that would take her off her own land, let alone connect her to other people (and we do see the result of that in domestic violence here, but that's a whole other kettle of fish). That's what I mean when I talk about the isolation of regions like this in rural Australia. We do have some services - the Royal Flying Doctors Service literally flies doctors to people like this as a part of healthcare, right? - but on a day-to-day level, people are - - contained, for better sometimes, but I personally think mostly for worse.

Look, my point is that rural Australia is not easy country to live on, and the harshness of the landscape is intensely tied up in Australian concepts of machismo and a romanticised culture of masculinity, which in itself is tied up in what I like to call racism-but-for-mates culture (i.e. fuck off, we're full [genuine tagline of racists here], oh, but not Muhammad down the road, he's my mate], general homophobia, a culture of anti-intellectualism and also a general desperation to survive a landscape and political situation that resents you for being there (because trust me, the Australian government resents having to deliver regional services to pockets of 500 people ala those in Julia Creek).

The limitations of resource - from education to libraries to literally the internet (especially after the bungled rollout of the NBN - we're 82 in the world for internet speed lol, it's bad even in the cities) - are inherently tied up in that, which makes existing in those environments just overall weighted and complicated and tied up in identity politics that are usually contaminated by conservative ideologies. Which when you're an artist, regardless of whether or not you're a writer, painter or actor is complicated.

Plus the area he's from in particular (the Monaro / Snowy Mountains region) is heavily politicised at the moment due to the conversation around brumbies (the Australian word for feral wild horses and the need to cull them), climate change and colonialism. There's a pretty good documentary about it that came out recently if you're interested at all. Here's the trailer:

[2braincellslz]

you asked for requests how about Steve Harrington X female or gn reader where they’re both just cleaning up each others injuries and it’s just a cute hurt/comfort soft moment? if not no worries

Carry A Kit

Ship: Steve Harrington x Gn!reader

Desc: steve and YN come home after the mall fight. They take care of eachother and tie up some lose ends.

Warnings: injurys

Life in Hawkins was… hard.

Hard was an understatement, it was near impossible. 

With the upside down and then general high school angest, life in Hawkins was a living hell. 

The times of break the group did have was filled with anything pleasant they could cram into their lives. For most of the younger kids like Dustin, that free time was filled with time with his friends. Playing Dnd. talking to suzie. Trying and failing at skateboarding. 

For YN, it consisted of spending time with their friends and family. After their first run in with the upside down, they grew a new appreciation for the moments they had with their family. But after the first time, those upside down moments became more and more frequent. Eventually, bringing to some kind of peak.

That peak happened recently. It was hard to think about. It was hard to think about Billy. It was hard to think about the mind flare. It was especially difficult to think about what you, Robin, and Steve had to go through. 

It was hard to think about it all even now, driving home with their heart racing a million miles per hour with Steve sitting next to them, holding his arm.

¨You can just take me home, YN. I'm sure I have something there.¨ Steve said, letting his head fall back as he tried to catch his breath.

¨being ´sure´ isn't good enough. I need to know you are ok.¨ YN huffed, pulling into their house's driveway.

Yn got out of the car, ignoring the shock waves of pain that shot up from their leg. Steve was already out of the car, waiting for Yn. They walked up to the door, pushing it open, and stumbling into Yns room. 

Yn disappeared into their personal bathroom. They went under the sink and pulled out a small tub with different medical supplies. Badges, bandaids, creams, pain killers, whatever you would need.

Yn came back, placing the plastic box on the bed next to steve.

¨ Alright, let's get you cleaned up.¨ Yn huffed, pulling out some gel-like substances on a few of the bandaids, placing them on the small cuts over Steve's face, arms, and legs. For a scrape on his knees, they took one of the big bandaids and placed it over the cut.

¨now, for the hard part.¨ 

Steve removed his hand, revealing a fairly large cut. When did he get it? YN didn't know but in the chaos of it all Yn wasn't surprised. 

The cut wasn't big enough for the hospital but it was too big for a band aid. You took a damp washcloth and dabbed it clean, being careful not to rub it and cause more pain for Steve.

Steve let out a hiss, gripping the bedsheets and pulling at them slightly. He let out a long shigh once YN pulled the rag away, tossing it in the general direction of the bathroom. 

YN dabbed on more of the gel substance around the wound before taking a wide jaw pad and placing it over the cut. You wrapped bandages around the pad to hold it in place. 

¨ Does anything else hurt?¨ YN asked, standing up and looking over their handiwork. 

Steve shook his head. ¨nope. It's your turn now. Sit down and let Dr. steve take care of you.¨

Yn rolled their eyes but couldn't help the bashful giggle that left their lips. 

The only real good thing about this whole upside down demogorgon mind flare deal was YN got to spend more time with Steve. YN had a major crush on steve. They had it for quite some time. Now, they were basically stuck together if they wanted to survive. The more time YN spent with Steve, the harder and harder they fell. Steve's way with kids expanded ten fold. The way Steve could make You smile in any situation, no matter how dier. 

Yn hoped and prayed that Steve felt the same way. Begging to whatever god was out there that he would show some sign. 

YN sat down, holding out the arm that got the most damage. Yn didn't have anything big to deal with, unlike Steve, just a bunch of little scratches and burns. The biggest thing was a twisted ankle but they could just sleep it off.

Steve did the same thing Yn did. Using the gel on the bandaids and cleaning up the burns.

¨do you need anything else?¨ Steve asked, putting emphasis on ´you´.

¨nope, i think im good.¨

Yn looked up at steve. There was a look in his eye. Like he was weighing his options. He was trying to keep a smile but it had shifted to an awkward look in his concentration. 

¨Are you ok?¨ Yn asked, taking Steves hand as he sat down next to Yn.

¨We have been through a lot, as you know, and i was talking to Robin… about it all. Robin and Nancy. That dosnt matter, i mean what i want to say is…um. Well, i think you are really cool and i would like to spend more time with you… and… wow, this used to be a lot easier.¨ steve took Yns other hand, rubbing his thumb across the top of YNs knuckles. 

¨steve.¨ steve looked up from his lap, deep in to your eyes. ¨do you wanna go on a date later.¨

Steve let out a sigh, nodding. 

¨oh my god, you dont know how long ive been wanting to ask you that!¨ Yn laughed, flopping back on to their bed. ¨ive been wanting to ask you out for so long.¨

¨really?¨ steve asked, leaning on to one arm, leaning over you.

¨really. Really really.¨ Yn smiled, chuckling. 

¨wow, and i thought you where just being nice.¨ steve mumbled, laying in the bed. 

¨you really arnt good at this, huh?¨

¨i was good at it.¨

¨yeah, back when girls would throw themselves at you.¨

¨oh, come on! Thats not fair!¨

¨but its ture!¨

[simping-for-kamski]

12 Steps of Christmas

Hank Anderson and Leo Manfred meet in group therapy for their 99 problems they're trying to fix—mourning, addiction... But deviancy is on the rise, and Detroit is about to change radically. Will these two men change too?

Let's see if I can post a chapter everyday till Xmas! Read on Ao3

1. Anger

“Welcome to the group,” the therapist said. She was a human being and that was all that mattered.

The room was lit a bit too bright, and some ten persons were attending the session, sitting on bland chairs forming a circle. Hank felt like an idiot just being there. He almost didn’t attend the session—he’d had a few in the past weeks, but this week had been especially challenging. He’d nearly put a bullet in his own head just the evening before, and nearly put a bullet in his plastic partner’s head too less than twelve hours ago.

At least he wasn’t sitting in front of Maria this time—she always cried embarrassingly much. Instead, he sat in front of a new face in the group, a young man in his mid-twenties with heavy dark circles around his eyes and patchy stubble. His gaze was empty. His hair was a tangled mess. Hank couldn’t blame him for attending the meeting looking like that. Most participants weren’t in the best mental space, and it reflected on their appearance—Hank knew he was no exception.

As the round of introductions went, Hank learned that the newcomer was called Leo and recently lost his father. He didn’t tell much more. Seemed like the type who preferred to listen first. Hank had been there too, but that day, he’d sworn to himself that if he came to the meeting, he’d talk.

“My name’s Hank. I lost my son, Cole, three years ago. Traffic accident—I was driving,” he specified for Leo, who was new and didn’t know his story yet. “Cole made it to the ER but an android surgeon butchered him and…” If Cole had survived, Hank wouldn’t be sitting here, talking. “These past days been rough,” he admitted. “My boss assigned me to work on things to do with androids, and I even have one of those following me pretty much everywhere. It’s… been tough.”

He paused for a moment. The others gave him time, as it was obvious that he had more to say.

“I don’t know what the fuck’s wrong with CyberLife,” Hank picked up at last, annoyance rising in his voice. “It’s not enough that I have to mourn my son, I also have to somehow accept that whole android bullshit and that… That, I can’t. I hate those fucking machines, I hate that they’re everywhere, and I hate, I really hate that they’re made to look so real and human, but they don’t feel a goddamn thing. I hate that the android who took my son’s life didn’t understand what life means, what death is. I…” He interrupted himself and shook his head. “These days, I… I’ve seen things and it’s messing my head, fucking my brain. I don’t know what to think anymore. I think… maybe it’d be easier for me to mourn Cole if…”

He lost himself in his spinning thoughts there. He wasn’t sure where he was going with that.

“My android partner,” he said instead, “I’ve seen him get destroyed right in front of me. You know what CyberLife did? Just fucking sent a new one. Same model, same face, everything. They didn’t even complain about doing it. And I just wonder—what did they do with the body? Tossed it in the trash? Just like that? Without a word? Like, for fuck’s sake… I don’t know. It’s all so wrong.”

There, Leo’s shoulders quivered and he discreetly excused himself as he drove back a sob. He didn’t speak though, and Hank didn’t feel like talking anymore. He got praise for sharing more about his story and for articulating his anger. The therapist went on about the importance of rituals in human culture, and the importance of the place of death in society, all while trying to keep a non-political stance over the position of androids in all that.

Hank ended up phasing out.

The session ended and as everybody helped to clean up the room, he found himself next to Leo, stacking up chairs together. The young man glanced at him, said nothing, glanced at him again.

“I’m sorry about your son,” he mumbled at last. “You must have been an incredible dad to miss him that much. I bet he was a great kid too.”

Hank nodded. “He was.”

Leo bit his lips. The other participants were exiting the room. “Uh… Hank?” he checked he got the name right. But then, “No, nothing. Sorry. I better run along, got another meeting to attend.”

“Yeah, same. No problem.”

[nicolos]

Tagged by @non-un-topo, thank you tumblr user non-un-topo!!

Rules: Pick any ten of your fics, scroll roughly to the midpoint, pick a line (or three) and share it. Then tag ten people.

I went with 10 TOG fics, including some of the more recent mini fics so I wasnt going for smth from like, 2020. They're in reverse chronological order here~

Rate of Interest

Nicolò propped his hands on his hips. He was dressed far better for the palace than he had the other day at the piazza—in brocade and a fur-lined cape. When he shifted his hands, his signet ring glinted. “I had not expected you to be so unhappy about an arrangement Signor Al-Wahid and your uncle have spent so long making possible.”

snakeskin

Nicolò sighed. “I have wanted to tell you for so long, Joe, but—we are not allowed to say it to mortals, not until they have an inkling.” He paused, and then, “I hoped you would not be afraid.”

disaster taxon

After, with Nicky lying beside him, smiling at him like Joe had given him something wonderful and intangible, Joe thought that it was easy to give Nicky what he wanted all the time. And he would—if it meant he’d keep looking at him like this, and holding him like this, and—he’d do anything if it meant Nicky wouldn’t see the cracks in him and disappear.

adventure

"That's it? I thought knights these days were more about the pageantry. Aren't you going to wave about a sword and threaten to kill me if I don't help you, or cry about some princess you've never met and have to rescue from a dragon somewhere?"

some cupids kill with arrows (some with traps)

It was exactly like a fae’s mark would be—but still, Yusuf would guess. Unmoving. Waiting.

fossil

This is it, she thinks, trying not to feel like she’s been falsely lulled into complacency. Time for Kill Bill: Vol. 2. For a second, she even wonders if all the rest of it—the cards, the cheese, the terrible driving and the jigsaw and the full three hours Andy and Joe spent in a single shop trying to buy a blanket that felt right—if all of those things are just to make Nile’s survival instinct forget who they are.

a founding

When they part, he takes the sea route, though not by choice, and later Yusuf hears of a calm sea into which a ship disappeared whole. Sometimes, things slip through the cracks.

wasteland, baby (i'm in love with you)

“What a coincidence,” he said, when Yusuf was looking down at his hands with an expression that was just as fond as it was hungry, “so have I.” His hands would be sweet, if he kissed them now, from the dates Yusuf had brought him.

lachesis' noose

He was still looking at his palm when Andromache arrived to throw herself into the armchair next to his. She looked over, one eyebrow raised, and he showed her the guilty hand. One of the women had insisted on reading it, as a repayment for his aid that he didn’t particularly want; she had blessed him with a long life. It was almost funny.

and a smile means friendship to everyone

“I like this shirt,” Joe murmured, and Nicky laughed; the real thing, now, unpracticed, with no hint of threat, only the purest expression of joy. Joe pressed his thumb to the crow’s feet—then rushed to wipe away the blood that followed.

I tag..... this is all just going to be the same people, but. @raedear @chinchillinator @babygirlyusuf @knoepfchen @werebearbearbar !

[lightpeak]

How My Depression Got Its Name - Script

If you asked me ten years ago what I want to be when I grow up, I’d probably have a pretty concise answer for you. “I wanna be a writer!” My naive eleven year old self would say. And I suppose that answer has always held true. Though, for reasons I’ll explain, the prospect of growing up seemed more life fantasy to me later on. For that reason, my answer isn’t the same anymore. And it all has to do with my depression, and how and why I named it.

They say blood is thicker than water. I suppose that’s why no matter what I did, I couldn’t escape that depression and mental illness runs in my family. But early on, I coulda fooled you. I was a happy kid, as far as I remember. Sure, life wasn’t perfect, but I was fooled into thinking it was. But I don’t think I’m writing this script, or making this video to tell you all the intricacies of why my life sucks, or sucked. I’m doing it to tell you about how in some part, I overcame it.

My mind is not a very fun place to be. This very fact is what drives people to do what they do. We are all master escape artists. Escaping our own thoughts, and escaping the accountability of avoiding ourselves. This is why, I suspect, many people avoid therapy. You’re basically voluntarily spending an hour paying someone to hold up the most vivid mirror there is. Accountability.

But everyone needs some form of therapy. Turns out mine, however, has been writing deeply personal and honestly dark poetry. For the last five years, I’ve been doing just that. It started out as a new way to express myself and my frustrations. Harmless fun. Although at some point it became a siphon for my darkest feelings towards myself and the world at large. Others found it deeply upsetting to read, and even more disturbing, my willingness to share it with the world. I was creating something I thought was beautiful. Turns out I was just giving a platform to a monster.

I should probably backpedal and describe the scene. I’m 16 years old. I’m in the worst time of my life mentally. And I’m giving a platform to my pain. But this pain sounded like hate. I don’t think I could quantify who it was for. Maybe me. Maybe my parents for creating a vessel for pain to inhabit. Maybe the world. But it was hate, and it was above all else, embarrassing.

I couldn’t have my name be associated with these words. Even then, I knew I’d look back and see this darkness, and my name, and cringe. So I created a pseudonym to scapegoat all of it. Nathan. And he continued to write, and still does. And I feel safe from my words.

Although as time went on, and my feelings began to get larger, and more raw, I needed somewhere to offload those too. After all, up until this point, if I’m fighting my depression, I’m fighting me. So Nathan soon became a name for my depression. An alter ego of sorts. Someone to fight. Someone to hate. Someone to beat.

This helps sometimes. And although sometimes isn’t always enough, especially when looking back, or from the outside. It helps anyway. When I’m alone with nothing but my thoughts, I’m really just alone with Nathan. And at that point, it’s just a matter of who will. And don’t we all just wanna beat the shit outta someone named Nathan every once in a while?

In the end, I’m not the same kid I was ten years ago. I’m also not the same lost cause I was five years ago. I’m someone new. Someone carrying a little less of existence’s problems on his shoulders.

If you learn anything from me today, or ever, let it be this:

Don’t give up. If you need to fight to survive, make sure you fight like hell. Pretend you’re fighting some asshole named Nathan. I promise you’ll win.

[katsukikitten]

But this is life. This isn't a movie.

Sure it is. Life's all one great big movie. Only you can't pick your genre.

Warnings: Spit, double pen, we're gonna say non con for fucking sure. Spitting, lots of blood here y'all and knife play. Also branding and slapping. If you can't tell this fic is heavily inspired by Scream my all time favorite fucking slasher film

Ghostface Bakugou is here and he's filthy

"Denks, I just think a huge Halloween bash on Halloween is so lame." You place your hand on your hip as your best friend preps the Airbnb he rented for the 'party of the century'.

"Is it because you don't have a date?" He laughs, looking you up and down, "Or is it because you don't have a good costume?"

You roll your eyes, gripping at the opening of your jean jacket that sits over top of a light lavender shirt.

"Hey, I'm dressed as one of the few people who actually survived the horror movie!" You huff, eyes roving over the kegs and handles he preps for tonight.

"And I'm Dracula! The movies are about me!" He points to his fangs you helped him glue on this morning. He begged you to stay the whole three nights he rented this place. He said it wasn't because he was scared or anything but you knew the truth. He was scared. The large home felt like a manor, tucked away a few miles into the woods and a few miles from the nearest neighbor.

It definitely looked like something out of a horror movie making it the perfect setting for the party that started in an hour or two. But thankfully it wasn't more than a ten minute drive outside of town. Which would make beer run and the pizza delivery easier.

"Yea, maybe in the 80s vampires were scary. Now they're sexy. You should have gone as…"

"Don't!" Denki shouts, giving you a glare. You smile wickedly.

"Oh, Twilight won't be on the big screen tonight?" He rolls his eyes.

"No, only the classics!" He says pointing to the pile of DVDs that sat on the counter.

"And you brought Scream?"

"Ugh, Keep your panties on, Sidney. Billy will be here tonight." He teases, calling you by the name of the character you're paying homage to.

"You think Bakugou will come dressed up as Ghost face?" You bite your lower lip, thinking of your crush.

"Dude I'm sure more than just Bakugou will dress up as Ghost face, between that and Michael Myers, those are a dime a dozen." Denki turns the tap clockwise on the keg, the ice the keg is sitting in crunches from his movements. His golden eyes flicker up to you and your blush.

"What are you 15 again? Aren't y'all dating?"

"Sadly I'm still very much 25." You sigh, fingering your jacket that you've bloodied, catching your reflection in the kitchen window, wondering if the fake blood in your hair was too much, "I think we are, yea?"

"Think?" He says dumping more ice into a large five gallon bucket, then he double fists two handles of vodka to pour in. You come closer, taking one of the many fruit punch juice containers to dump into the tub.

"Yea? I mean we had sex a few times. He calls me his Princess." You feel your face flush.

"Gag me." Denki mutters before teasing, "But you aren't a virgin. There are certain rules you must abide by in order to successfully survive a horror movie!"

"Don't quote my favorite movie to me or I'll leave you here all alone!" You threaten and he stares at you, his eyes narrowing and just as he's about to say his big comeback a loud bang echoes in the kitchen causing both of you to jump closer to one another. After you settle your panicked heart you gingerly step towards the window overlooking the back patio.

"Careful." Denki says softly and you wave him off. Standing on tiptoes to peer over the window sill to see if anyone is crouching down. Instead you see a small black bird, stunned as it ruffles its feathers.

Thank Kami it hadn't broken it's neck.

"Just a bird." You confirm and Denki breathes out a huge sigh of relief until he jumps from his skin again as the old phone in the house lets out a shrill ring.

Another curious glance between the two of you before you walk towards the living room.

"Probably a crank caller." You comment and Denki swallows.

"Could be Dad. I gave him the number in case he couldn't get in touch with our cells." He pats down himself for his phone now. While you try to swallow down the unease in your throat. Denki always talked about his Dad being yours too, especially since the Kaminaris adopted you when you were a teenager, the tragic backstory you carried didn't help matters. Having an unyielding thirst for all things macabre in order to cope with the untimely, and horrific, death of your parents seemed the opposite of healthy. But you thought if you watched enough of the slasher films you could have ended their story a little differently.

But you didn't and you can't. Here's to hoping you can at least change the ending to your own horror film.

"Hello?" You just catch the call on the last ring, there's silence before a voice comes to life on the other end.

"Hello." It's a man's voice and not Dad's. It's a bit familiar and comes off as sinful velvet. You bite the inside of your cheek, straightening the old phone cord to keep your hands busy.

"I think you have the wrong number." You say flatly, trying to cut this off short.

"Ah, do I? This isn't…" He rattles off a number as you scrunch up your face.

"Couldn't tell ya bud but probably not. Bye now." You hang up, turning on your heel to go back to helping Denki.

RIIIIIIING

The phone screams and you roll your eyes, you knew exactly what was happening. A dumb teenager having just watched the movie Scream was trying the prank call on for size.

"Do you like scary movies?" You beat the caller at their own game, hoping to have stunned him enough to hang up and give up for the night.

Or at least give up on this number.

"Hey," He tuts, his voice dangerously flirty, "That's my line."

"Is it?" You turn around with phone in hand to stare out the french doors to the side patio, the sky streaks in orangey blacks, fitting for the night, "Didn't know we were in a cheesy slasher film."

The man laughs and it's an oddly satisfying sound, the familiarity of it all causes your stomach to twist in knots.

Of excitement or dread, you couldn't be sure.

"Yea, you could say we are. You look pretty ya know." His voice is sanguine, sugared with promise of a good fuck. You scoff but you can't help the flicker of your eyes as you try to see anything in the dark silhouette of the trees.

"Oh yea? I think you mean sound pretty." You flash your tits before adjusting your almost cropped lavender top, trying to prove you weren't scared, even if by some chance some asshole was watching.

But who you were proving it to, you couldn't say. Probably trying to prove it to your own racing heart more than anything else.

"What'd I just do?" He's quiet for a second, as if debating his next move before he ignores the question. Giving you a sense of security, if he could really see into the brightly lit house, surely he would have commented on your tits.

Most random men did even when they weren't exposed.

"What's your favorite scary movie?" He asks, steering the conversation back to the usual script of scream.

"Well, you've stolen some inspiration from it, that's all the hint, I'll give." Denki peeks his head in from the kitchen giving you a puzzled look. You shrug your shoulders before adding, "I gotta go, gotta prepare for this huge party."

If he was sketchy at least he knew you weren't going to be home alone all night. A lot of victims make that mistake.

"Oh yea? Am I invited?" He asks and you let out a surprised scoff, a smirk settling on your face after you tongue your cheek.

"As much as I'd love to see Ghostface in the flesh, this party is invite only." It's the callers turn to scoff back.

"Well maybe I'll just have to find someone with an invite…." He trails off, "Guess I'll see you soon."

This time you openly laugh, the arrogant flirty tone to his voice is maddening.

"Sure, see you then." You drop the receiver high enough that when it lands in the cradle it rattles the base.

"Who was that?" Denki asks, wiggling his eyebrows, "Was it Bakugooooouuu?"

He presses his hands together and flutters his eyelashes at you.

"You're an idiot." You shove Denki, "How would he even have this number? You only gave it to Dad right?

"Oh." Denki scratches the back of his head, "You're right."

"And you're a dumbass. Now let's get the snacks out before our guests string us up from the rafters."

As the sun dips deeper behind the horizon and the moon rises, so do the number of guests pulling into the prestigious drive. Sero, Denki's roommate, comes in first walking as if he were trudging through mud. You were sure it felt like it as he had on at least fifty layers of clothes.

"COULD I HAVE ANYMORE CLOTHES ON?!" Sero announces as Denki comes from the kitchen, his smile quickly fades as he realizes that Sero was copying Denki's favorite character from his favorite sitcom.

"Are those all mine?!" He yells and Sero turns, slowly so Denki can see.

"Yea. Even your underwear." He smiles devilishly and you laugh aloud.

"That's a gamble!" You remember having to share a room with him growing up. Your sanity held together by the simple fact that you had the top bunk, safely away from the clothes that lived on the floor.

"Yea it was a freaking gamble! Thankfully he never empties the dyer." Sero winks, before leaning in to give you a hug, "You doing okay?"

He asks it softly and you squeeze tighter, it has been too long since you visited.

"Yea just super busy with this editing job."

"Well you can't work too much. You'll get sick." He squeezes your bicep gently before moving to get a drink.

"Hey guys!" Jiro announces as she comes in, holding up a rectangular box, "I brought extra beer!"

Her black lips form a sweet smile as she sashays inside with her black and white striped suit.

"Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice, Beetlejuice!" You chant and she throws you a beer in place of her summons.

Momo and Ochaco come in as a pair. Ochaco is wearing a gorgeous prom dress although she is drenched in 'blood' from head to toe while Momo wears a dirty potato sack dress and her long hair covers her face.

Throngs of people start to pile in over the next couple of hours, bodies sweating as the house music shakes the windows and pictures on the walls. You sit steadfast on the stairs with your eyes glued to the door. You nurse your seventh heavy headed drink before Denki comes up the steps, patting at you knee. Jiro stands by the banister at the bottom of the steps.

"Come on, you can't put the party on hold just cause he isn't here yet. Come down and dance." Denki holds out his hand, just as you're about to take it the front door opens, a large bulking Jason with bright red hair steps in.

"Kirishima!" Mina shouts rushing for him, he pulls up his mask, broad smile on his face dashing your hopes.

"I think I'm gonna…" You start to say that you'll turn in for the night before a dark figure slips in after Kirishima. A tall man in a black cloak with a white mask that's elongated into a screaming ghost's face steps over the threshold. Your heart beats tenfold as the tip of the knife pushes the mask back revealing first a set of plush hard set lips. Then quickly pushing back ash blonde hair showing his forehead. Dark garnet eyes search the room and when they find you he smiles. Denki turns back to you to wiggle his eyebrows before singing as he walks down the steps.

"K-I-S-S-I-N-G!"

You don't have long to roll your eyes as Bakugou pushes through the sweating bodies with ease. Bumping shoulders with Denki.

"There's my girl." He says leaning up to kiss you. His tongue passes over your lips before you let him in, grabbing at his cloak as his mask falls to the ground.

"I texted you…" You say softly as he tuts.

"Lost my phone." He pulls away gently, the blade in his hand glinting in the hall light. You go to pull him in, uncaring of the prop in his hands.

"Careful. The knife is real, Princess." Bakugou teases, twisting the tip into your loose jacket, just enough for it to snag but not to hurt you. The potential danger sends a jolt straight to your cunt. You swallow thickly, trying not to let on just how fucking hot your boyfriend, not boyfriend, was dressed up as your favorite psychopath.

"Dressed as Sydney?" He asks cooly, "Guess we were on the same wavelength."

"Yea, guess so." Is all you can say. Only Bakugou could render you a giggling teenager. He leans in to kiss you again, he tastes of alcohol already but even if neither of you had a drop of liquor you'd both still be drunk.

He can't keep his hands off of you, gloved palms creeping up your shirt and when he doesn't find a bra he growls into your mouth.

"Upstairs. Now." You don't argue with his command as you rush up the stairs pulling his hand to guide him to your bedroom. He shoves your jacket from your shoulders before he pulls off his cloak and lets it fall on the hall floor. His mouth glued to yours as you back into the bedroom. He slams the door shut behind him before shoving you onto the bed.

"Fuck, kitten. You look so pretty for me, ya know?" He purrs as he lets his eyes roam over your body. They linger over your chest, nipples poking through the lavender top. He palms himself fully taking you in one last time before he jumps onto the bed. Crawling up your body as his still gloved hands grab at your clothed thighs. He wraps his lips around a stiff peak of your nipple, sucking at it through the fabric as the zipper of his black jeans gives the right amount of friction against your heat.

"Such pretty tits." He palms the other through your shirt, relishing your preening cries from his minimal effort.

Screams carry up the steps, barely heard over the music, they go ignored by both parties. Chalking it up to Halloween pranks. Bakugou continues to bite and suck at you, occasionally coming up to your lips while his hands explore your body. Clothes somehow still on as he dry humps your heat, growling with approval of your body causing you to moan.

Abruptly the music downstairs stops and the screaming grows louder, panicked even.

"Katsuki…" You sigh, eyes flickering to the door.

"Shhh, it's Halloween baby. They're probably watching a scary movie. " He chuckles, kissing up at your neck, palming your tits.

A blood curdling scream echoes up to the two of you followed by feet pounding up the steps. You clutch onto Bakugou, almost freezing as you try to remember where the hell you left your cell phone. Your blood runs cold when you realize it's somewhere downstairs. Desperate hands bang onto the door before it flies open. You and Bakugou jump from the bed. Katsuki pulls you behind him as you both watch Uraraka come through the door. Her bloodied face looks wet compared to the dried blood look she had when she arrived. Panicked as she rushes into the room desperately reaching out for Bakugou. Naturally, Katsuki grabs her wrist and then it all goes in slow motion. A large black mass with a ghost face mask appears at the threshold, knife raising as Bakugou tries to pull Uraraka back while pushing you away.

The knife punctures her back, she coughs up blood onto Bakugou's face, he turns to look at you over his shoulder. Glaring at you, silently begging you to find a way to escape as Uraraka slowly becomes dead weight. Her knees falling from under her as her eyes slowly dull.

A scream catches in your throat, this has to be a fucking prank right? Some bullshit idea Denki cooked up. But the blood looks...looks so real. The faint tang of it wafts over the room reassuring you that this was very much real while Ochaco pales. Bakugou drops Uraraka as kindly as he can before he barely dodges a swing of the dripping knife. The slasher flashes the sharp metal a few more times, strategically blocking the only sensible exit. You glance behind you to the window, rushing towards it as you fling it open pushing the screen out. As you place your foot on the heavily slanted roof, your eyes find Bakugou's. He's looking over his shoulder making sure you're getting away as his muscles strain from locking arms with the assailant.

"Fucking go!" He barks, shoving the mountainous man who rocks on his feet. Bakugou looks away to swing a hefty punch as you slide onto the roof. Converse slipping from the chilled tiles as your breath puffs up in smoke. Navigating your way as best you can, going to the opposite side of the house to the room Denki was staying in, the master. You knew full well Denki would not only have the window unlocked but wide open so he could better blow out the heedy smoke of his blunt. Too chicken to smoke on the porch last night.

Guess he had good enough reason to be scared.

You climb into the window as quietly as you can, placing your foot precariously on the edge of the low dresser. With your feet firmly planted on the ground you look around for a weapon, anything that could maybe make a difference in the fight. You go for the bedside lamp but it is a cheap, light stick with a bulb and lamp shade at the top. This would do nothing to the masked man if Bakugou was struggling to hold him back.

And where the fuck was your cell phone, any bodies fucking phones! The power flickers and you bite your lip to keep from whimpering. At least the land line would still work if the power went out.

Fuck, that's right the god damn land line!

You hear Bakugou cry out as the scuffle continues a few bedrooms down. Rushing towards the stairs you see a body wearing black and white striped clothes. The center stained a deep red as you slowly freeze up. Blood seeps into the hardwood floor as Jiro lies still. There was so much blood that the metallic taste coated your tongue even as you held your breath. With shaking fingers you place your digits beside her mouth and nose. Jumping back when you do not feel breath. Another pained cry comes from the bedroom urging you to move. Slipping down the stairs as you came onto the scene. There were bodies littering the living room floor like dropped flies. Frantically and selfishly you look for a head of electric blonde hair. When you find it you shut your eyes tightly.

You couldn't...you cannot go through this again. Breath catching in your throat, you force your eyes open, seeing Denki's chest rise and fall while he lies next to Sero. You can see slashes in the clothes but no blood on Sero. Maybe his costume saved him, as you gingerly touch him you notice the paleness of his face and the contrasting red at his slashed throat.

This time you openly whimper, fighting back the flashing scenes of your mother lying face down on the bathroom floor. The white tiles washed over in dark splashes of red. You have to force yourself through your ragged breath, you weren't fifteen anymore, you were twenty fucking five. You weren't weak now, you had been working out in order to prevent the past from repeating itself.

Still, Denki's unconscious body was hard to get a hold of, blood making him harder to grip. You could feel two stab wounds as you pulled him into a hiding spot so that you could come back from him later. Thankfully the wounds weren't too deep and you were sure most of the blood covering him was unfortunately a friend's. You shove him against the rough stone of the fireplace. Hiding him in the dark corner between the natural stone and the wall, almost childishly putting his top half under the curtain. Thank God he was skinny, you just hoped he wouldn't move. You pat down his pockets and his phone is missing. You look over your shoulder to the amass of options.

One of them was bound to have their phone on their person.

You just weren't sure you could stomach looting one of your friends. Your ears perk as you hear footsteps upstairs in the large house hearing them move from room to room before a loud thud is heard.

Heart stuttering as you pivot to snatch up the phone. Slipping in the blood on the floor and almost falling on top of Mina, whom you weren't sure was breathing. When you press the receiver to your ear there is no dial tone, just silence as if someone were on the other line in the house.

"I knew eventually you'd pick up." The voice sounds from the other side.

"Why the FUCK are you doing this?" You seeth, shaking from the effort of keeping the phone to your ear, "THIS ISN'T THE FUCKING MOVIES!"

"Sure it is. Life's one big great movie. Only you can't pick your genre." That velvety sound crackles through the old phone, quoting one of your favorite scenes.

"Stop fucking mocking me!" You slam the phone down, turn to look over the room, catching movement out of the corner of your eye. Standing in the middle of the steps was the large mass of black and the unfriendly ghost face. You aren't a deer in headlights for long, lunging away from him towards the dining room in hopes you could either find a weapon or slip through one of the many sets of french doors.

As soon as your feet move the masked man is bounding down the steps towards you. Hand outreached, his gloved hand snags your shirt but you send back a sharp donkey kick to his shins.

The man growls behind the mask as you slip, into the dining room, your back to the kitchen as you hear a crash and then a thump.

You wait a few moments, blood rushing in your ears as your eyes scan the table, the knives you had left out earlier for pumpkin carving as gone. Only the stencils and gourds remain.

Suddenly strong arms wrap around you, thrashing in their grip before a soft voice whispers in your ear.

"It's me."

"Bakugou! Bakugou!" You half, clutching onto him, you turn around to face him, "I thought you were fucking dead!'

" ' m alright, bit scuffed up. I hit him pretty hard. He should be out cold now, the bastard." He growls as your fingers grab roughly at his torn shirt and his body. You find no deep wounds, just a few slashes on his chest paired with a split lip and small bruise near his temple. Still you're frantically pressing shaking hands over him, finding new wounds here and there.

"You're okay. You're alright. He's gone now." He coos as he fights to calm you down. Stabilizing your anxious movements causes his phone to fall out of his pocket unlocked. It's on his recent outgoing calls, a number he doesn't have saved is his most recent. You stare down at the glowing glass. Heart dropping into your gut hard enough that pure heat rushes to your core and the soles of your feet. You hit him harshly in the ribs and he lets go with his hands up, garnet eyes looking deadly as you hold up his phone. Without a second thought you hit dial.

BRRRRING

BRRRRRINNNNNG

The old phone echoes through the mostly empty house causing you to scream out.

"IT WAS YOU!" He pretends to look confused.

"What?" You slap him across the face and he lunges for you, pressing you against the table in the dining room. The sharp corner bites into the small of your back.

"Don't play coy! You were the one who called earlier. You're the one who….who…" Your mind flashes to Sero, of how pale he looked and how large the pool of blood was getting in a matter of seconds. You fight impossibly against him and his strength.

"Why would you think it was me?!" He shouts, "I found my phone at the party."

"That's fucking convenient." You hiss, his grip tightens and you feel the bruises forming on your wrists.

"I was with you when the killer came in! We were practically fucking on the-" But he doesn't fully get the sentence out. Bakugou coughs and blood splatters on your face, he opens his mouth, teeth crimson as his knees grow weak.

"Run." Katsuki utters, falling to the ground only for a tall man dressed in that damn white mask costume looms within arms reach. The large man blocks the french doors and your only hope is to make it to the back patio through the kitchen. Your shoes squeak as make your way towards the door. Hoping to make it through the obnoxiously big kitchen before you're caught.

Once you got outside your best bet was to attempt to lose this guy in the woods to hopefully round back to the house to get keys. The visibility in that fucking mask had to be low.

Still the man is much taller and much faster than you. His long strides eat up twice the amount of floor as you before his arms are wrapped around you. Hoisting you from the ground as you scream, legs thrashing as you catch him in the thighs and shins over and over. The man hardly moves and makes no sound until you grab onto the mask, yanking it from his head. He howls out as you let the mask fall to the floor and with it a small chunk of bright red hair.

Still he holds you steadfast.

You swallow thickly as he turns you back towards the direction you came.

And there he is.

Bakugou, standing in his black jeans and stained white shirt. Blood dripped from his lips. Except he doesn't look angry or even surprised.

No, he looks delighted.

His lips curled up into a cruel smirk as he watched the gears turn in your head.

"Katsuki?" Your last attempt for him to right this wrong, "I thought...the blood…"

"Corn syrup and red dye. Same thing they use for pigs blood in Carrie." His smile stretches his face in a grotesque manner and you swallow deeply.

He steps closer and Kirishima let's you go, standing well within arms reach should you try to run. You back up into the counter as both men try to crowd you. Tears burning your eyes as Bakugou invades your space.

"Aw come on sweetheart. It was all in good fun. I just wanted to give you what you wanted." He puts a piece of hair behind your ear, "You wanted to meet Ghostface in the flesh, remember?"

With your hands behind your back you feel a small knife you had used to cut up fruits for the jungle juice. Quickly your hands wrap around the cool plastic handle.

"I- I didn't want this." You grit your teeth, voice cracking as you try to stop reliving tonight.

Reliving ten years ago.

"Don't be stupid. You wanted this. It's why I picked you." He leans in close for a kiss.

This was it. This was your do or die.

"You picked the wrong bitch!" You raise the knife to plunge into his throat, he's quick to move and the knife sinks into the meat of his chest just below his clavicle. Blazing eyes hold your glare before a deadly nasty smirk blooms on his face. He removes the knife, pressing you harder into the granite counter, stabbing you in the same spot as himself. Mirroring the wound you gave him, he presses his hard on into your thigh, kissing you with gnashing teeth. His tongue slips in, fighting with yours before he slowly starts to twist the knife causing you to moan into his mouth.

"I bet you love this shit don't you? Your boyfriend and his best friend showing up on Halloween night just for you. Taking out a witness here and there." Blood splatter on his face looks like delicate freckles as he holds eye contact.

"Bet that pussy is soaking for me." He growls, rutting against you for relief as he bites into your throat. Another gasp leaves your plump lips before he leans back.

"Fuck, you look so sexy covered in blood." He snarls, taking the knife out. He presses his hand over your wound before touching his own. He groans as he allows the blood to intermingle on his palm before he swipes his red hand over your face.

"It's like a blood pact now, Princess." He looks to Kirishima, "Come hold her tight."

Kirishima wraps his beefy arms around yours to pull them behind your back causing your tits to jut out. Bakugou smiles as he watches them jiggle, taking the knife and cutting up the front of the shirt to expose your nipples that pebble in the cool air. The soft fabric falls uselessly down your arms. You feel something hard press into your ass and you whimper.

"Isn't she so fucking sexy?" Bakugou speaks of you as if you weren't there. Kirishima swallows thickly behind you, his voice deep with need.

"Yea, her tits are perfect." He leans down to bite at your shoulder and the action makes you gasp.

"They are aren't they?" He smiles, stepping closer to bring the blade of the knife to your skin, poking the tip of it in as he watches your face contort the deeper he presses. When he sees blood he smiles, bringing the blade down into a straight, deep line on your stomach. You bite your lip, thrashing your legs but Bakugou continues on. Swiping the blade down into his original straight line and then starting at the line to swipe down diagonally.

You look down to see the upside down K as Bakugou and Kirishima chuckle.

"K for Katsuki." The ash blonde smiles, lovingly pressing against the initial.

"And K for Kirishima." The red head purrs behind you. Now you thrash harder before Bakugou grabs the sweet meat of your inner thigh.

"Stay still." He growls, spreading your feet apart as he brings the knife between your legs, cutting the thin material of your leggings starting at your ass and going toward your clit. He is careful not to knick your sex. He watches the string of your arousal sit glisten on the edge of the blade as he feels the heat radiates from your core. He palms himself, eyes fluttering before he holds your gaze.

"I knew you'd love this type of shit." He takes his fingers to separate your folds, when he feels how wet you are he groans loudly. Your cunt squeezes around nothing with desperate need. The cock pressed into your ass and the obvious approval coming from Bakugou had your body vibrating.

"I knew it from the moment I read your fictions on those forums." Your eyes widened with shock, no one knew about your fanfictions that you wrote. Not even your friends.

So how the hell did he?

He doesn't give you time to figure it out as his fingers dip into your cunt. Sucking him in as he shifts his weight, pulling his fingers back to your cunt. Harshly rubbing up and down your slit as your knees grow weak.

"Stop fighting it, Princess." He chuckles, "Cum."

On command you do, unable to fight back the moan as you rear your head back to rest against Kirishima's shoulder. You hold his ruby gaze as Bakugou pulls another two out of you with just his fingers. Your mouth forms an endless "O" as Bakugou moves your body to his will. You watch Kirishima suck his teeth loudly before he purses his lips, spitting into your open mouth. It hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag as you rut against Bakugou's fingers. Your head spins and you start to feel high.

"So dirty for us." Kirishima says softly, "Such a good girl."

"You wanna try her out first?" Bakugou asks Kirishima who eagerly nods. Bakugou wraps his arms around yours and your torso, pressing you to his chest.

"I've got her." Katsuki says, kissing your temple as Kirishima let's go of your arms. You can hear Bakugou's racing heart and barely smell that sweet burning sugar mixed with a hint of smoke. Subconsciously you breathe in deeply, always loving the way he smelled. Kirishima undoes his belt, letting his pants and boxers fall to the floor. He steps out of them and fists his fat cock, dragging pre down his length.

"You won't be a brat right? You'll be a good girl and let Eiji split you open with his fat cock." Katsuki asks almost tenderly as he presses his lips to your ear. You blink slowly, struggling to stand as your body starts to crash from both the back to back orgasms and your fading adrenaline, still your body betrays you and you nod.

"That's a good Princess." They praise in unison causing a jolt to go through your body. Kirishima prods your folds, teasing you as he rubs his tip up and down your slit. Enjoying the way you jump when it hits your clit. Finally he presses the tip to your tight, pulsing entrance, inching his way in before he's filled you to his hilt. He wraps his arms back around yours as he did before lifting you up to adjust your weight as you take his cock impossibly deeper.

"Oh" Is all you let out before he starts to gyrate his hips, building into a fast pace as his balls slap into your ass. The lewd sounds of your sopping cunt echo around the kitchen mixed in with Kirishima's grunts as Bakugou's burning gaze bores into your skin.

"Isn't her cunt the best?" Bakugou keens as he watches your pussy swallow up Kirishima's cock.

"Fuck. Yes.." Kirishima rasps, his harsh thrusts causing your tits to bounce. Your eyes start to roll into the back of your head, cunt squeezing his cock as it hits your g spot.

"Gonna cream his cock already?" Bakugou asks lowly, hand coming to your heat. Two rough digits swirl harshly against your puffy clit, "Lemme help ya. Cum for me, Princess."

"F-fuck." You cry, body shaking as your eyes roll into the back of your head, cunt throbbing as Bakugou's fingers continue to assault your clit while Kirishima groans behind you. His knees weak and grip on your arms that much tighter as you fist his shirt with numb fingers.

"Oi, no cumming yet, shitty hair." Bakugou barks, "We have to take care of our lady first."

As you shake with the feeling of another orgasm, Bakugou takes the knife and gently glides it along your skin, a bead of blood follows the blade. The sting of the cut paired with the throbbing need in your cunt pushes you over the edge. Tears cling to long lashes as you hold eye contact with Bakugou as another orgasm rips through your body.

"That's right, you love this, you filthy fucking slut." He slaps your clit with his fingers and it causes you to squeeze Kirishima so tight he stills. Panting as you feel his cock throbbing in your stretched walls, he's close and your cunt attempts to milk him. You wiggle your hips, wanting them both to continue causing Bakugou to smirk.

"Alright Kirishima, you should be lubed enough to slide it into her tight ass." Bakugou orders, pulling at his belt. Kirishima pulls out, leaving your cunt clenching over nothing before he presses his wet tip to your ass. Spitting down onto his cock for extra measure before he slowly inches in, careful not to tear you with his fat cock. The burning sensation causes you to squirm, Kirishima bites at you shoulder to keep from cumming.

"So tight." He whines, giving a few sloppy thrusts.

"Oi, suck it up. She deserves a good time, don't ya, Princess?" Bakugou runs a finger down the mock initial he carved into your stomach, "Don't you want us both to split you open?"

Your eyes flutter from Kirishima's movements and when you do not answer Bakugou becomes annoyed.

"Oi." A slap rings out in the kitchen as your cheek stings. His large palm finds your tender throat as he squeezes so hard that the fringes of your vision begin to fade to black. "Pay attention when I'm speaking to you, Sweetheart."

He squeezes tighter, leaning close as he lines his cock up with your entrance.

"Got it?" He asks and you frantically nod, trying to push his tip in deeper.

There was always something about Bakugou's cock that made you so stupid, so cock hungry and desperate that you'd let him do anything.

Forgive him for anything, as his cock had addictive qualities you could not deny.

"That's a good kitten." He purrs, plunging into you as his gives you a rough kiss with gnashing teeth. He keeps his hold on your throat as the two of them fall into a fast pace. Fuckin into you as your body begins to melt between theirs. Cocks twitching as they dove into your body and used your holes without warrant. You wheeze out moans as Bakugou holds your throat tightly, watching your arousal coat his dick in creamy rings as you contract around them.

"Fuck, fuck." Kirishima groans struggling to hold it together as you squeeze them both, cumming over and over while they use you as a cock sleeve.

"Just a bit longer. I bet we can make her squirt." Bakugou teases, bringing his free hand down between your bodies, rubbing his fingers quickly against your abused clit as you jerk between them. Suddenly a live wire as the coil in you tightens.

"Please," You rasp, "It's- it's too-"

But Bakugou cuts you off, taking his hand from your throat to hear you cry and to skip his finger into the stab wound below your collarbone. He swirls his fingers around and your vision goes white. The searing pain mixed with the divine pleasure of their cocks pounding into you causes your world to shatter. Screaming out a mixture of their names, clear liquid gushing from your cunt. Kirishima groans behind you, the contractions of your tight hole too much as hot seed deliciously fills you up. Bakugou's hips falter as he roughly fucks into you with wild abandon, chasing his own high as he holds your half lidded gaze and his finger in your wound.

"Takes. Me. So. Fuckin. Well." He grunts, before you pull him in just right. Causing him to paint your abused cunt in hot shades of white.

The three of you stay there, panting before Kirishima withdraws first, making a motion to get dressed. You collapse into Bakugou, who bites and sucks at your neck. Peppering you with both kisses and praises.

"My good little slut. My sweet Princess."

Meanwhile Kirishima takes off his button up flannel that was for his Jason costume, he slips your arms through the holes delicately and suddenly the smell of both of them makes your mind go blissfully blank. Mountain breeze and rain mixes with Bakugou's sweet scent blocking out any other memory than the feel of their cocks. Your body slowly catches up to your brain as your body throbs in several places. Bakugou pulls up his own pants without letting you go as he talks to Kirishima.

"We gotta get going soon. You had your gloves on the whole time right?"

"Yea." Kirishima responds, wiggling his fingers before Bakugou goes on.

"And you didn't let Mina post a picture that you were here?"

"Nope didn't even take a selfie with her. " Eijirou confirms as he wipes your prints from the handle of the knife, "You got a bag for her?"

Bakugou scoffs.

"Yea I grabbed some shit from her own bag she packed."

Your ears ring as they talk, the bliss of the mind blowing fuck slowly wears off and that haunting metallic tang starts to come to the forefront of your mind.

"O-Oi!" A weak voice croaks, "Let her go."

You whip around to see Denki stagger under the threshold of the kitchen. Bakugou's knuckles turn white as he grits his teeth towards Kirishima.

"I told you to kill everyone." He growls.

"I did!" Kirishima retorts as Bakugou's eyes widen before they narrow.

"Then why is he standing here you fuckin idiot. Take care of it." Bakugou bites, pulling you closer to him as Kirishima twirls the knife in his hand before grabbing it tightly.

"I'll- I'll go with you quietly. Please, please don't kill him. He's all I have left." You fist Bakugou's shirt, desperately looking between the two men as tears gather in your eyes, "Please...Katsu, baby."

"D-don't." Denki struggles to speak but you give him a pleading look.

"I-" You gulp down the truth only to spit up a lie, "I'll be okay Denks. Just lie low til we leave." You turn to Bakugou and Kirishima. Both who are ready to pounce onto the weak electric blonde.

"He's gonna squeal on us, Sweetheart." Bakugou's gruff voice turns soft, "Then how will Kirishima and I take care of you?'

He presses his hand against that damned K again as you grit your teeth.

"I know. I know. But...please." Real tears fall down your cheeks as you begin to shake, "You won't tell right, Denks? Right? He-"

You sob and Bakugou runs his hand up your back while Kirishima says what you couldn't.

"He'll probably bleed out before he can even get a hold of someone."

Bakugou gives Kirishima a look before staring at Kaminari.

"For your sake you better hope he does." He growls at the large red head before he turns you away from Kaminari, "Grab your shit and let's go."

Kirishima grabs for the mask and the costume, wrapping it up as he follows the two of you out onto the patio. Bakugou squeezes the back of your neck tightly, guiding you out of the large Manor of horror forever.

All the while your plans to plot revenge begin to crumble with every dull ache between your thighs.

[imagineswriting47]

Running away

A/N: This is for the Anon who asked ‘ Hello! I saw that your requests were open, and I want to know if it’s possible to write a Dean x reader story where the reader has a dark/sad past ( maybe worse than the Winchesters?) that extends outside of America, like an international type of deal? Then maybe dean does something rude or finds something out and treats her badly, just something that causes her to run away? I literally have no plot to this! Thank you in advance! I want to apologize for this taking so long to get out.

Summary: When Dean finds out the truth about Y/N he doesn’t take it to well.

Parring: Dean/Reader

Warnings: None

Tag List: @akshi8278​

If you had told me ten years ago that monsters and demons were real, I would have laughed about it. I would be thinking that you were saying some terrible jokes. Now I know differently. Watching monsters kill my whole family changed everything. How I survived, I will never know. Running away from everything didn't solve anything, either. Flying to America, I hoped that I could leave monsters hunting behind and the British Men of Letters. I couldn't. Once a monster hunter, always a monster hunter. So when I heard about some strange killings the town over from where I had been staying, I had to check it out. Meeting the Winchesters was not what I expected. Nor were they anything like I had been lead to believe. When everything was said and done with the hunt, Sam asked if I would like to come along. I said, 'no.' I gave them my number to call if they needed anything anyway.

After meeting Sam and Dean, I started hunting again. I was meeting other hunters along the way as well. But somehow, the Winchesters and I kept crossing paths. Every time they would ask me to come along with them, I told them 'no.' But the more that I hunted with them, the more I found myself wanting to go with them. For the first time since I lost my family, I felt safe with someone. But how would they handle the truth about me? My past is not pretty. The things that I did for the British Men of Letters are things that I can't forgive myself for. They will hate me if they know the truth about me. But Sam, with those puppy dog eyes, how could I say no. Even when I got a room in the Bunker, I still kept my distance. I was doing my best to keep my past from them. They could never know how much I care about both of them. I fear that they could use it against me, or someone could use the brothers against me.  

The past, no matter how hard you run from it, will always find you. 

A simple hunt that turned out to be demons changed everything. Demons lie; everyone knows this. But these demons were not lying about me. And when the beast was dead, Dean asked if the creature was telling the truth. Did I sell my soul? My silence was answer enough for him. Then the yelling started. I was everything that he said. I was no better than the monsters that we hunted. While my soul was still mine, it was dirty and tainted by the darkness that is Hell. It doesn't matter to him that my soul is still mine and that I still have my soul. That I managed to get the demon who I sold my soul to break their end of the deal was a miracle. By breaking their end of the agreement, they were making the deal void. Dean didn't care about that, and the whole way back to the Bunker, Dean was silent after Sam got Dean to stop yelling and get in the car. A yelling Dean I knew how to deal with but a quiet Dean that was a bad thing. When the car came to a stop, I all but jumped from the car and went to my room.  Closing the door behind me, I sat on my bed.  Only a moment later, the door was thrown open by Dean.

"Were you going to tell us?" Dean spoke the quiet furry easy to hear in his voice. I didn't know what more he wanted me to say. What could I say? "You lied to me—your just another monster. I trusted you to have Sam, and I's back. I trusted you, and I should never have done that..." I don't hear anything after that; his words keep getting harsher and harsher. Seeing the chance when Dean stepped further into my room, I ran. Once past him, I let the tears fall down my face. When I felt like I ran into a wall only to have two arms wrap around me.

"Y/N?"

"I'm sorry, Sam. I'm just so sorry." I whisper as I pull away from him. Running to the garage, I jump into my old car. Once out and onto the road, I drive. There was no destination in my mind; I just kept driving; my tears had long since dried, not having the energy go further. I pull into a little service road with the car off. The silence is defining. I did not realize how used to the boys always talking I had gotten.

Climbing into the back of my car, I lay down. Pillowing my jacket under my head, I let the blackness of sleep pull me under. Though my sleep was restless, I could not get more than a couple of minutes of rest. The sun shining in the car's window decided for me that it was time to start moving again. Sitting up, I rub my face trying to wake myself up the best that I can. Climbing back into my car's front seat, I turn the car over and get back out onto the road. I keep heading west following the sun, still with no destination in mind. I only stop when I get hungry or need to use the bathroom. Putting as much distance that I can between the Winchesters and myself. 

Just before nightfall, I find a small little town that has a cheap motel in it. Thanking my stars tonight, I pull into the motel parking lot. I was pulling out the little bag of clothing that I keep in the trunk of my car as a 'just in case kind of thing. The motel was reasonable but also dirty as most cheap motels come. Also, it doesn't look like any redecorating has been done since the eighties. After all the salt lines are laid out, I make my way to the shower. The water is thankfully hot, and I let it relax the muscles of my back. I was washing my body before stepping out of the shower. Towel drying my hair, I quickly re-dress and head out of my motel room. I am running into a small town looking for someplace to get something to eat. The town's dinner was little and '50s themed like much of all the diners I had obtained food over the years. Ordering my meal to go, I quickly make my way back to my hotel room. I eat fast, not even tasting what I was eating, knowing that I need to see what I had left in my car. At this point, I considered what had been left at the Bunker lost, and I needed to know what I needed to replace. The bags I felt had some weapons left in them but not enough to keep hunting for long. But I had left my phone behind in my room. 

Over the next couple of days, I manage to get some money for doing some hustling at the bars. With that money, I got myself some new clothing and a burner phone. By the end of the week, I move to another town. I kept moving like that week after week, hustling money as I went. Three months after leaving the Bunker, sitting in a small bar, I hear the door open. Sitting where I was, I could see the door and those that walked in, but they could not see me. Standing in the doorway are the Winchesters. I wait for them to get to the bar with their backs to me before standing up and making my way out of the bar.

Once back at my motel room, I pack up my things, cleaning up, making it as if I was never there. By the time I am finished, I can hear the Impala's unmistakable sound pulling into the lot. I wait to hear a door close than wait longer to be sure before stepping out of my room. I am quickly making my way over to the car. I set my things in the passenger seat before walking over to the office. Once checked out and everything paid, I make my way back to my car. At the same time, my attention was elsewhere. I failed to notice Sam stepping out of his room. Sam doesn't see who I am until I am standing next to my car with my head down. "Y/N?" I hear Sam say to me as he moves to be standing on the other side of my car.

"Hey, Sammy," I say as I look up to him. Only the Sam that I see is not the same Sam that I left at the Bunker. This Sam looks so tired like he hasn't slept in weeks; the dark rings under his eyes are so dark. He even looks like he has lost weight. His clothing seems to hang on him. "I can't believe it, Y/N. Dean and I have been looking for you." When he mentions Dean, I can't help but cringe back, Remembering Dean saying that he should kill me. "Y/N?" When I hear my name, I look up to Sam. I can see the concern in his eyes. 

 "I can't, Sammy. I'm sorry, I-I have to go." I whisper to him as I pull my car door open. Making a decision quickly, I pull out a piece of paper and write my new number on it for him. 'Don't tell Dean.' I finish off the note before handing it to him. Once in my car, I don't wait to see if Sam reads the message before pulling out of the parking lot. I'm not on the road long before I hear my phone start to ring. Wanting to put more space between us, I don't answer.

I drive for the rest of the day and all through the night. I don't stop until I cross over into Ohio. I stop at the first motel that I come across. Once in my room, I plug in my phone before falling into bed. I am woken up hours later to my phone going off.

Grabbing it off the table, I find that Sam is calling me. "Are you alone?" Are the first words out of my mouth before Sam could even say anything. "Yes." Sam and I talk for hours after that. Mostly it was just me telling Sam that I was okay. That no, I hadn't been hunting. Then he asked what happened the night that I left the Bunker as Dean wouldn't talk about it. So I start from the beginning by telling him everything. The secrets that I had kept from him, why I sold my soul, how I got out of it. What Dean said to me and how it scared me. 

Sam fills me in on everything that had happened since I left. I can't believe what Sam tells me how worried Dean got when he realized that I hadn't returned to the Bunker the next day. After a week, Dean was freaking out, calling everyone that we all knew to see if they had seen me or heard from me. At first, I thought it was because he was trying to follow through with what he had said in my room. Sam said that all he kept saying was that he needs to apologize. 

Sam and I keep talking for weeks after that first phone call. He keeps his promise and doesn't tell Dean about our conversations. But with each chat I have with Sam, I make my way closer to the Bunker. Sam doesn't know this, but I plan on seeing him again in the next couple of weeks. Sending a text to Sam when I get into town, I tell him where I am staying. He doesn't get back to me right away, but when he does, it doesn't take him long to show up at my hotel room. Once my door is open, I am pulled open into a bone-crushing hug. "It's good to see you too, Sam."

"Same to you, Y/N." When Sam pulls away from me, I can get a good look at Sam. He looks so much better than the last time than I saw him. The dark circles are gone, and he seems like he has been eating better. "You look better, Sammy. How's Dean?" What Sam has been telling me about Dean is making me worry.

"It's not good, Y/N. I don't know the last time he slept. I can't get him to stop looking; it's killing me not to tell him that you are okay." Sam sits on the bed in the room with his head in his hands.

"Do you-Do you think that it would help if I went to the bunker?" I whisper to him as I take a seat next to him. This was my plan when I came here, but to hear Sam talking is making me nervous to see him again. It's been six months since I have been back. "Would you?" I can see the hope in his eyes as he lifts his head and looks at me. Shrugging my shoulders, I stand up and hold my hand out to him, pulling him to his feet. "Let's go." I want to get out of the door before I change my mind. It doesn't take long before we are pulling up to the Bunker and making our way inside. Sam stays back, letting me walk in first. The Bunker is quiet, not much noise to be heard, nothing like it was before when I was living here.

"Sam, where did you go?" I hear a yell for the library turning, I look at Sam, and he smiles at me in pushing me to the library. Dean has his back to me when I first see him again. "It's not Sam," I say to him. I can see him freeze before turning slowly to look at me. "Hi, Dean," I say when I can see his face. His face is pale; he looks so tired and underfed. I don't get the chance to get a good look at him before I have an arm full of Dean. For Dean being so much taller than me, he seems so small in my arms. But what makes me the most surprised is when I can feel tears on my neck. I start to walk backward and out of the room, slowly making our way to his room. Dean doesn't seem to realize that we are even moving. He is shaking in my arms but not making any noise either. Once in his room and laying down on his bed, all he keeps mumbling is 'sorry.' I keep whispering soothing words in his ears, hoping to get him to calm down. Slowly he stops shaking, the tears stop falling, and his breathing gets deeper, letting me know that he has fallen asleep. Not long after he is sleeping, so am I. 

I don't know how long we are asleep, but I am woken up to the feeling of a hand on my cheek. Opening my eyes, I find Dean's green ones looking back at me. Looking Dean in the face, he looks better already; the dark marks under his eyes less pronounced his cheeks have color back in them. "You okay?" I ask him as I place my hand over his that is on my face.

"I should be asking you that Y/N," Dean whispers to me, his eyes closing as he says this. "I'm fine, Dean, I promise." I smile at him even though I know that he can't see it. Not knowing what to do, I move his hand off my face; turning my back to him, I sit up. "But I couldn't stay, Dean, not after everything. I-I'm not staying for long. I just thought that I would come and see you and Sammy." I can feel the bed moving behind me as Dean stands from the bed. He moves around the bed and stands in front of me.  Dean is turning on the bedside light before kneeling in front of me. 

"Y/N, I can never tell you how sorry that I am for what I said. I will never admit this outside of this room, but I was afraid. I sold my soul. I know what could have happened to you, and I don't want that for you. You are so beautiful and kind and everything that is good." Dean looks like he wanted to say more, but he doesn't. He takes a deep breath before standing up and turning his back to me. His shoulders fall.

"Dean, I'm sorry. But I couldn't tell you; I didn't know-how. I want to stay here. But I don't think that I can, not after everything. I know that I am better off on my own..." I don't get to finish my sentence before he turns back to face me, grabs my face in both of his hands, and kisses me. It could be barely be called a kiss more of a dry press of his lips against mine. "Please..." I can feel him whisper against my lips. Deciding to throw caution to the wind, I lean up and kiss him. The kiss is rough, all teeth and tongue saying everything that both of us just couldn't put into words. I feel his hands on my ass before he is lifting me up. I warp my legs around his waist as he turns and presses me against the wall.

We kiss for what feels like hours about cant be more than a couple of minutes. "Don't leave me." I hear Dean whisper as he pulls away from this kiss. His head once again resting on my shoulder. I grip tighter to the short hair at the back of his neck before whispering, "There is nowhere that I would rather be."

With my feet back on the floor and the both of us cling to each other, I know that we have a lot that we need to talk about, and my past is one of them, but maybe this really is where I am meant to be.

A/N: Thank you for reading. Please leave a heart and a re-blog. My requests are still open but it might take some time for me to get them out.

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Let’s go to the Bahamas (Part 3) | JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader

Summary: The pogues goes looking for John B and Sarah…in the Bahamas. JJ doesn’t want you to come with them

Pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!Reader 

Word count: 1180

-

Although you were excited to reunite with your brother, the car ride was long and never-ending. Your phone died two hours ago and you had no power bank to charge it.

''Kie, can we make a stop? I really have to pee.''

The last stop was over 50 miles and the water you had drank earlier needed out.

''We made a stop half an hour ago, couldn't you have gone then?'' JJ asked.

''You and Pope peed on the side of the road,'' you reminded him. ''I can't do that. Well, not in broad daylight.''

JJ rolled his eyes. ''Such a princess.'' He pinched your calf, which was laying on his lap, feeling cramped behind Pope's seat. 

You swatted his hand. ''I'm not a princess.''

''You are. Pogue Princess.'' You bit back a smile and stole his hat from his head, driving his attention elsewhere. ''Hey!'' JJ protested, but let you have it. 

Ten minutes later, Kiara pulled up at the next gas station and accompanied you to the bathroom. You can never be too careful in those places.

''What's going on between you and JJ?'' 

Your hands stilled under the cold running water. Sketchy places like this never had soap or hot water. ''What do mean?'' 

''I don't know. You tell me.'' She raised an eyebrow, waiting for you to spill, but there was nothing to say - according to you. ''He's always been protective of the Pogues, but he's different with you. He even let you steal his damn cap! You know he never let anyone wear it.'' There's something in his eyes too, the way he looks at you, she omitted to add, but figured you weren't ready to hear it yet. 

''There's nothing, Kie. I'd tell you if there were.''

.

You and the Pogues were in a tropical forest, running from the Camerons. You heard gunshots behind but you kept running, just like your brother had said. You needed to get to the boat.

Kiara, Pope and JJ were already on the boat, waiting for you, Sarah and John B.

At some point, the shotguns stopped. You assumed they were out of bullets, but it was far worse. Ward had caught up to you and was now holding his gun against John B's head, one hand on the trigger and the other on the back of his neck, keeping him from moving.

Fear filled your blood.

''Don't!'' Sarah begged, eyes on her father. ''Dad, please, don't.''

The man ignored his daughter's pleas and looked right at you before pulling the trigger and shooting.

''John B!''

You woke up from your horrible dream- nightmare, tears pooling in your eyes and hands shaking. It was just a dream, but you couldn't help but think: what if?

What if the Camerons got to John B before you? Rafe and his dad were crazy and would do anything to get their hands on 'their' gold. Ward had tried to harm John B in the past, perhaps this time he'll succeed and you'll never see your brother again.

''JJ?'' you whispered into the dark room. ''Are you sleeping?'' You didn’t want to wake him, but your heart was beating fast and you didn’t know what else to do.

''Office is closed. Call back when working hours starts,'' he replied sleepily, eyes still closed.

On another time, you would've laughed, but laughing was the last thing on your mind. ''JJ,'' you insisted.

He opened his eyes and looked at you through the dark. ''Everything okay?'' he asked, his voice gentle and slightly hoarse.

You shook your head, but he couldn’t see. ''Do you think we'll make it to them before the Camerons'?''

They were probably already in Nassau at the moment, looking for John B and Sarah, which worried you even more.

JJ thought for a moment. He didn’t want to scare you or worry you even more, but he didn’t want to lie to you either. ''John B’s escaped Ward twice and survived a tropical storm, I think he's smart enough to get away from those two.''

''I'm scared,'' you confessed. ''I already lost my dad, I...I don't want to lost my brother too. Not again.''

The past months had been heavy in mournings. Your whole family had been taken from you. First your father had been missing - then declared dead. Weeks later, it was John B's turn.  

You didn't want to live this nightmare again.

''You won't,'' he promised. ''Come here.'' JJ shuffled and opened one arm, motioning for you to come closer.

Taking you in his arms was the only way of comfort JJ knew to provide. He wasn't good with emotions or words, so he had to find another way to comfort you as you mourned your brother and friend. He couldn’t just let you cry in a corner.

It had surprised you at first. He had been hesitant and his arms were tense, but it was familiar and it was all you needed.

You shifted on the bed, closing the space between your bodies and laid your head on JJ’s chest as his strong arms wrapped around you.

Cuddling wasn’t something JJ did often. Not even after sex. Every time he would get with a girl, he'd leave right after or make up an excuse to make her leave. But, somehow, he didn't hate this - with you. It was...agreeable.

[dcforts]

[week #1: summer solstice]

1.9k, deancas, established relationship, night out.

Dean killed the engine in the parking lot and looked across the street.

The huge neon sign on the door said Summer Solstice in yellow and orange and was decorated with palms and flamingos. It was flashy and intimidating.

“Is this the place?” asked Cas from the passenger seat. Dean looked over at him. He was wearing that baby blue shirt Sam had gotten him for Christmas and had styled his hair in a cute way – at least before Dean had gotten it all messed it up in the garage before they even left. Now there were some locks doing what they wanted in the back. Dean liked it anyway.

“Yeah,” he said, looking towards the entrance again. “That’s what Google says.”

“Mh,” said Cas. He didn’t sound convinced.

“We don’t have to go in,” said Dean, a little nervous.

A couple of young girls were disappearing behind the door right then. They seemed happy and relaxed and Dean was feeling uneasy.

He was too old for this. Had too much trauma, a too complicated history. This was more of a place for Claire. Or maybe not. Maybe she was too cool for it and she’d make fun of him if she knew where he was.

He and Cas didn’t belong there.

They should have stayed at the bunker, kissing on the couch, like the did every Friday night. Dean liked that.

They could still just drive away, pull over in the middle of nowhere and sit on the hood. But they did that all the time. This was supposed to be them trying new things – being out in the world, proud and all. They thought this Summer Solstice's Rainbow Friday could be a good start.

It had taken them all afternoon to find something they liked, driven an hour and a half. Cas had read him the place's entire website and now they were there and Dean was thinking of chickening out. He couldn’t believe himself sometimes.

Dean sighed. “We don’t have to go in, man,” he repeated like a broken record.

Cas was looking at a group of people coming out of the bar. They looked like they were having a good time. Behind them was a couple of guys walking hand in hand. The couple crossed the street to get into the parking lot and stopped to kiss all sweet and soft right in front of their car.

Fuck, alright, Dean was feeling really old and not at all okay.

He wasn’t even sure if he ever kissed Cas in public like that. Actually, that was a lie. He remembered every single kiss they ever shared, he just didn’t know if “no one around for miles” counted as public.

“I think we should go in.” Cas said but then looked over at him and his expression changed. “Are you feeling okay?”

Dean gulped, overheating all of the sudden even if he didn't have his usual jacket on. “Yeah, yeah.”

He rolled down his window, and now he could hear the bubbly pop song that was playing in the bar. That didn’t help.

“Dean, are you sure?”

Yeah. Yeah, sure. He was okay. He was. He could go to a damn bar with his boyfriend. That's what people did. He could do that.

“We can just see if we like it,” Cas said. “We don’t have to stay if we don’t.”

“You said you wanted to try their cocktails.”

Cas looked like he was trying very hard not to roll his eyes at him, “I think I’ll survive if I don’t.”

“It’s just – I’m not used to this kind of –" he couldn’t finish the sentence.

“I know,” Cas said anyway and Dean felt like he really did. He sighed and slumped against the seat. He caught Cas’ eyes. “We don’t have to like it,” he said once more. “It’s just something that we’re trying.”

Dean was watching his eyes and hearing his voice and he was feeling calmer already. He kept saying we and that was really helping for some reason. He couldn’t believe he'd just been freaking out about going into a bar.

“Okay, yeah,” he said, and this time he meant it. Kind of. He looked over at the place again. “So. What’s with that name anyway? Summer solstice?”

He was stalling.

Cas let him, “The longest day of the year,” he said, like a professor. Dean liked when he used that voice and didn’t say that he knew that already. “It signs the start of a new season.”

“What’s that – what’s that cocktail you wanted to try?”

“I think one was called Heatwave Sweet Heatwave,” he said and Dean couldn’t help but huff a laugh, “Oh, God”.

“And another was – Feeling Beachy.”

“Alright, stop, you’re killing me.”

Cas smiled at him. He knew Cas wouldn’t be let down if he said he wanted to go home. But Dean didn’t want to go home. He’d chosen his outfit and all, even ironed his shirt.

He didn't even know what was holding him back. He sighed, took one last look at the neon sign, then rolled the window up and took the keys out.

“Alright, come on, let’s do it,” he said opening his door.

Cas got out, rounded the car as Dean locked it and grabbed his hand.

Crossing the street felt like a huge deal, but being pulled by Cas' strong grip made it easier and Dean felt lighter and lighter. He kind of held his breath when he passed under the rainbow flag by the entrance, but nothing happened, no cold shower, no electrocution. And once they got in, he just felt – normal.

It was a long room, bustling with people, crowding the bar and the dancefloor on the far end. They were of different ages and wearing all kinds of different clothes - not the usual patrons of the hunter bars Dean was used to, but no one turned to stare at him like he'd thought would happen. They were all just chatting away and dancing and minding their business.

Cas squeezed his hand. Dean started to relax.

The bartender was half his age, had an hawaiian shirt on and sunglasses on top of his head. He was wearing one of those flag pins, but Dean couldn’t remember what it meant. He took one look at them and said, “First time?” and Dean thought he must have looked like grade-A idiot.

Not even the time to open and close his mouth like a fish that the guy had slammed two shots on the counter in front of them and winked, “On the house. Welcome.”

So that was a good start.

Then Dean got addicted real quick to a concotion called Tropic Like It’s Hot and went back for seconds and thirds on the mini sandwich platter on the buffet table, all while saying sandwich with fruit should be made illegal worldwide.

They played really terrible remixed songs that Dean didn’t know but got the crowd going, but then they played a bunch of his girl's Taylor and a bunch of the ones Cas liked. Cas said he wasn’t gonna dance but still followed him onto the dancefloor and kind of moved his head and feet a bit while working through his second Feeling Beachy and Dean got to dance all stupid around him and make him laugh so that was nice.

He went to the bathroom for two seconds and when he came out, Cas was at the bar again and someone was chatting him up. Dean prepared for the worst, but when he got closer the guy smiled all bright and said, “Hey, you’re Dean, right?”

He looked a little like Benny, which was weird, and was wearing very short shorts ,which Benny wouldn’t have worn, even if he could’ve totally pulled them off in Dean’s opinion.

Anyway, the fact that it looked a little like Benny made Dean feel instantly comfortable around him and he felt only moderately scrutinized when they were joined by a couple of his friends who asked about their whole life story – even the damn bartender from before leaned over the counter to listen in. Apparently they were all regulars of their Friday events and they all knew each other.

Dean almost doubled over in laughter when Cas said he was an exterminator and that got him thinking that he should definitely stop drinking Tropics, because apparently they were pretty strong under all the sugar. He was glad to let Cas handle the conversation and they were nice to them, even said they hoped to see them back before they left with their drinks.

Dean realized it was the first time he was being seen for who he was by total strangers and not feeling worried about it at all. It felt good, it felt exciting.

Dean looked at Not-Benny walking away with his short shorts and wondered if he could pull them off too.

“Yes, of course,” said Cas all serious, and Dean realized he’d asked that out loud.

Yeah, he should have stopped drinking like a drink ago.

Cas got suddenly very close to his face and said “Is everything okay? Do you wanna go?” and Dean leaned forward to kiss him, because everything was okay, and it was Friday night after all, and that was still his favourite thing to do on a Friday night.

Not-Benny found them again and gave them flower garlands to wear for being newbies and Dean only itched to get rid of his for the first ten minutes, but then he didn’t and the itch disappeared. Also, Cas kept pulling him around with it and that felt especially nice.

They came out of there two hours later and Cas stopped him by the car to kiss him all sweet and soft right there in the parking lot.

Dean felt dizzy and happy and not at all too old.

They got breakfast at a diner on the way to the bunker and although Dean longed for his bed, the sight of Cas sitting across from him sipping on his coffee, his left side lighted by the rising sun was so nice that he also kind of wished he could stay there forever.

“We should get something for Sam,” said Cas in the end, so they got up, went back to the car and drove the rest of the way, speeding with the windows rolled down, humming those catchy songs that got stuck in their head.

Sam was yawning in the kitchen, waiting for his coffee to brew, when they appeared on the door. He had an amused expression on his face in two seconds when he saw them, “You guys are just coming in?”

Dean gave him his donut. Sam smiled at him and said, “Really nice garland, man. Cas sent a pic.”

Dean regretted giving him his donut. He scowled at Cas, “How do you even do that?” He hadn't even seen him using his phone.

Cas was stealing Sam’s coffee and pretended not to hear him, his back turned, doing the worst impression of the Invisible Man ever.

He also put a cup in Dean's hand though, so Dean stopped scowling at him. They got out of the kitchen right before Sam started lamenting, “Guys, you drank all my coffee!”

They collapsed in bed without undressing and Dean got to unbutton Cas’ baby blue shirt and slip a hand in to touch his skin, then bury his nose in his neck. He smelled of pineapple and coffee and still somehow of that cologne he’d sprayed himself with the night before.

"In my defence, you look very good in that picture," whispered Cas, sounding like he was one moment away from falling asleep.

Dean stayed awake for a while longer, basking in an unfamiliar state of quiet euphoria. He was smiling.

He was okay. He was.

@bend-me-shape-me said #deancassummerprompts21 and I said YES

[jasontoddiefor]

nobody's keeping score

Ship: HideKane

Summary: In a world where ink stains the white papers of constitutions, damning the lives of ghouls, their existence is no secret or rumor, but a topic of heated debate, protests, and anonymous organ donations in shady alleys. No matter how bright the CCG appears in their white coats, their light cannot reach the dark tunnels where ghouls and sympathizers alike are plotting. And when Hide, after hours of sitting at his best friend’s hospital bed, sees him wake with one eye black and red, the difficult question is not how to get him help, but how to avoid him becoming the figurehead of a conflict threatening to turn into a bloody revolution.

AN: Notes: You ever just take a 4-year break from a fandom and return with spite fic because you remembered how much you hated canon? Yeah. This fanfic is my attempt at corralling the TG worldbuilding into something coherent that makes sense. I will keep some elements of canon, others I will throw out of the window straight away. This is utterly self-indulgent.

“And with the developments in synthetic meat production—”

Hide wanted to groan. They’d been discussing the same question for the last three hours of class and he was, frankly speaking, done with it. People were running out of arguments and circling back to topics that didn’t contribute anything to the conversation they were supposed to be having. From the way their lecturer was glaring at the latest speaker, Hide would say that she was also very done.

“Yoshimura, as stated before, we are not discussing possibilities for ghoul integration, but the mere premise of whether they even deserve the rights needed to legalize their status as citizens. The right of existence of an individual should not be dependent on what modifications would have to be made to accommodate them, but whether they deserve to live regardless.”

Hide had zoned out about an hour ago. His opinion on ghouls had always felt rather clinical, mathematically detached, despite Hide’s history. Maybe too much time had passed since he’d looked at the bloody remains of his father to really hammer home the fear-motivated rejection so many people fell to. Perhaps the CCG investigators, who had dragged him away from his father’s corpse, should have allowed him to get a little more traumatized before the kindness of his new parents had become enough to dull those painful memories.

Some ghouls were no different than brutal serial killers, and they had to be taken down, but the rest seemed to be getting by just fine. If a new legislation would make it even easier for them to go about their everyday lives, perhaps the number of violent ghoul attacks would go down as well. Hide was well aware that this was the view of a privileged person. Growing up in the 20th ward meant that you needn’t be scared of leaving your house when it was already dark. Kamii University prided itself on the fact that it could safely offer evening classes such as the one Hide was attending now. The same certainly couldn’t be said for the other wards. Any citizen between the 9th and 13th wards would probably advocate vocally for the extermination of ghouls. The 11th especially resembled a warzone even during the daylight. Ghoul sightings were nothing unusual there, and investigators’ mutilated bodies were displayed as trophies and warnings alike. Meanwhile, nobody had died in the 20th war for something like ten odd years. Sometimes it felt like waiting for the other shoe to drop, but most of the time, Hide didn’t even think about ghouls.

By the time class was finally over, Hide had taken only one or two more bullet points. They hadn’t really said anything of interest and it reflected in his writing. Usually, Hide would be sending rapid-fire texts to Kaneki now, but his friend was still on his date and Hide didn’t want to bother him. It had taken more than just a bit of teasing and probing to get Kaneki to ask that girl out and he wouldn’t self-sabotage his hard work.

It was good that Kaneki was connecting to people that weren’t just Hide.

And it would be awesome if Hide could do the same.

Codependence needed two people to work and Kaneki was definitely not the only one struggling with independence. Hide had yet to figure out how to let go of Kaneki when his relationship to the other boy had been the only stable thing in his world for the longest time. Nothing said mental health like latching onto an abused child to escape the stifling air of his brand-new foster fathers’ home.

The next time he visited his parents, he’d bring them some flowers to make up for how troublesome he’d been as a child.

Glancing at his phone again, Hide realized he had to hurry if he wanted to take the early bus home. He was just about to plug in his headphones when an unknown number flashed up on the display. Who would call him at this time? Hide was definitely someone who preferred texting. Even his parents knew better than to call unless it was serious. The only person he ever actually called was Kaneki, and that was only because his friend sometimes got so lost in a book, he forgot to text back or didn’t even hear the phone buzz. Hide contemplated picking up for another ring, then gave in and accepted. “Nagachika Hideyoshi speaking, who’s calling?”

“Hello, I am Tanaka Akako, a nurse of the Kanou General Hospital. You are Nagachika Hideyoshi, Kaneki Ken’s emergency contact?”

The blood in Hide’s veins froze.

“Yes, I am. Has— has anything happened? Is Kaneki alright!?”

The nurse’s voice was so calm, steady, and pleasant as if this was a chat between friends. Somewhere Hide knew that it probably helped most people, but it just put him on edge. “Nagachika-san, your friend and another young woman were involved in an accident. Dr. Kanou is preparing him for surgery, but as his emergency contact, we have to discuss the possible options before we can proceed.”

Hide didn’t want to discuss any options. There shouldn’t be any besides Kaneki’s survival. Hide wanted to rush into the operation hall and hold Kaneki’s hand, wishing he could turn back time, tell his friend to remain at his side and consider that girl out of his league so he’d spent the evening with him and not getting sent to ER. This couldn’t be real; he was sick to his stomach.

“What are the options?” Hide asked, panic threatening to strangle him as he rushed to the street, trying to find a taxi to take him to Kanou General straightaway.

“Kaneki-san sustained serious injuries. Dr. Kanou is willing to transplant the deceased Kamishiro-san’s organs into your friend to save his life even if her family hasn’t consented yet. The only consent we can ask for in Kaneki-san’s case is yours and—”

“Do it,” Hide replied immediately. He didn’t know Kaneki’s date, and as much as Hide loved people, argued for a baseline acceptance every day in class, he couldn’t bring himself to care about the wishes of a family whose daughter was already dead. The only thing they were still good for once their hearts stopped beating was serving the living with their remains.

Kaneki might survive because of her; what else could matter? “Do it, whatever you need to save him— you have my full permission.”

Finally, a taxi approached and stopped right when Hide waved for it. He quickly climbed inside and, paying no attention to the driver, told him to get to the hospital as quickly as possible.

“And in case he doesn’t survive, may his organs—”

“He will survive,” Hide pressed because he didn’t know what he’d do with himself if he were to lose Kaneki. He’d built a life around his best friend and how much they meant to one another. Hide couldn’t give up on that, couldn’t let it slip past his fingers. “He’ll survive. I know it.”

Organ transplants took place every day without any complications—

Hide’s eyes widened. “Kaneki has recessive ROS!” he all but shouted at the nurse, startling the taxi driver.

Kaneki’s father had died because of it. If Kaneki got the wrong blood transfusions or anything, his RC cells were suddenly pushed to start acting up, the dormant sickness could turn on and what if Hide had just damned him to a life of wasting away—

No.

Stay positive. Don’t freak out even more. They hadn’t done anything yet, merely asked for Hide’s permission to help Kaneki at all. He was saving his friend’s life; he wasn’t cursing him.

“Thank you for telling me, Nagachika-san. I will pass that on to Dr. Kanou. You have just contributed immensely to the safety of the procedure.”

“I’ll be there in a few minutes,” Hide said. “Just— he has to hold on. Tell Kaneki he has to hold on until I’m there.”

“We will, Nagachika-san, don’t worry. Dr. Kanou will do his best.”

His best.

The words echoed in Hide’s mind. How was he ever supposed to know if Kanou’s best would be enough for his friend? Hide excelled at being optimistic, could see the positive side of most things in life, had learned how to be hopeful at the funerals of people he’d loathed. He just couldn’t allow himself to drown in any negative possibilities.

The rest of the drive passed in the blur, either because the driver had known to speed up after listening in on the phone call, or because Hide was so out of it that he didn’t really register the streetlamps flickering by until the taxi had reached its destination. Hide passed the driver a couple bills, probably more than the transport had actually cost, but he didn’t care. What were one or two skipped meals compared to being there before it was too late? Hide rushed inside the sterile white hospital, eyes immediately set on the front desk.

“My friend,” Hide stuttered as he clung to the counter, holding it as if it were his lifeline. “He was brought in— an accident. He was on a date and there was an accident. Dr. Kanou is operating him?”

The receptionist seemed confused, needing a moment to make something coherent out of Hide’s rambles. “I need your identification before I can tell you anything about our patients.”

“Yes, yes, of course.” Hide fumbled for his student ID card and put it on the counter with shaky hands. “Nagachika Hideyoshi, I’m Kaneki Ken’s emergency contact.”

“Of course, your friend is still in the operating room. You can wait here.”

Hide didn’t want to wait, but what else was there he could do? He hated feeling useless like this, unable to contribute anything productive. The receptionist sent him a kind look and, defeated, Hide crossed the entrance hall to the waiting room where he remained together with other worried family members and patients, clutching his phone so he wouldn’t start screaming. He couldn’t stop moving his legs, stress keeping him wide awake even as the hospital emptied and less and less people sat around him. How long did such an operation take? An hour? Two? Hide had absolutely no idea. He didn’t study anything like this. His major was English literature, which was about as helpful as hot air at this moment.

He could quote enough books concerned with some medical drama and family members in the hospital, but none of them brought him any comfort.

“Nagachika-san?”

Hide looked up into the kind face of an elderly man wearing a pristine white coat.

“Y- yes?” Hide replied and quickly stood up, brushing imaginary dust from his pants. “Are you Dr. Kanou? Is my friend alright? Can I see him?”

“I am sorry to have caused you such worries. The operation went well. Your friend is resting in intensive care right now. He is still asleep, but you may visit him. The presence of loved ones is often very beneficial to the healing process.”

Healing.

A sob shook Hide’s shoulders. Kaneki was alive. He hadn’t died.

“Thank you,” he managed to say in between his sobs. “Thank you, thank you for saving his life.”

The doctor only kept on smiling and kindly put his hand on Hide’s shoulder, squeezing it lightly in what was meant to be comforting. “It is my job, young man. You don’t have to thank me. Nothing is more important to me than saving innocent lives. If you follow one of the nurses, you can see your friend immediately.”

Hide thanked the doctor once more, relief slowly filling the pits anxiety had hollowed out. He followed the nurse through the labyrinth of death, decay, healing, and salvation up to the intensive care station. Quietly, he was led to a room. The door opened, revealing one lone figure on a bed.

From a distance, hooked up with so many tubes and wires, Kaneki was nothing like the person who took up half of Hide’s life. He seemed so much smaller and looked like just one push could snap his connection to life.

“Please remain quiet,” the nurse told him. “And don’t move him.” Glancing at his still trembling fingers, she added, “but you may hold his hand.”

Hide nodded, then quickly crossed the room to Kaneki’s bed and sat down on the chair next to it. Kaneki didn’t move at all; not even a single muscle twitched. Hide would assume they had led him to view his friend’s corpse if not for the steady rise and fall of his chest. Pushing up the sleeves of his jacket, Hide took Kaneki’s hand in his own.

“Hey, Ken,” he muttered, pressing his eye close so no tears would escape them. “You scared me there. Don’t ever do that again.”

Predictably, Kaneki didn’t reply. Nevertheless, Hide imagined that just for a moment, he squeezed Hide’s hand back. Slowly, the tension bled from Hides’s shoulders and he made himself comfortable in the hard plastic chair. This was bound to be a long night and he was starting to feel his exhaustion catch up to him. He tried to keep his eyes trained on his friend for as long as possible, remaining alert for a change to his condition, but it was getting more and more difficult to keep them open.

Eventually, the darkness caught him as he fell. Hide knew he stirred a couple more times during the night, likely when the nurses came to check on Kaneki. Nobody asked him to move and leave, something he was immensely thankful for. He wouldn’t have been able to let go. By the time the sun began to chase away the shadows again, Hide wasn’t sure how much he had slept, only that it had definitely not been enough. But that was alright, he could catch up on sleep sometime later. It was far more important that Kaneki was going to be alright.

Hide turned to look at Kaneki’s face and found his friend awake, staring back at him.

One eye gray like a stormy cloud before the morning rainfall.

The other was blood-red against the night sky.

[meiakrp]

The morning sun is just beginning to peak out over the horizon. casting faint pastel lights over the quiet grounds of the agency. Lined up ten feet from the main gate are 21 various modes of transportation; 6 military grade jeeps, 5 school buses of various states of decay, 3 minivans, 3 pick-up trucks, 2 motorcycles, 1 suv with a trailer attached, and 1 cargobob. 

Each vehicle is packed with citizens, supplies, and agents. three large crates are connected together and attached to the underside of the cargobob. The trailer on the suv has a large container on it. Lerissa sits in the passenger seat of the suv. Her hologram pad displays a set of vitals, and the familiar figure of GEON on the screen.

An hour before Maylin had announced the official start of the move. Every person within the compound was allowed to choose if they wanted to leave or stay. A few civilian families, and agents did pick to stay. Choosing to die in the home they have always known–or living with a belief they could survive. 

“We move forward not out of fear, but out of hope! We are striving to save those who need help, as well as unite the remaining people on this island!” Maylin is perched on the top of one of the jeeps, her speech echoing to each car and person preparing to leave. 

“The meia family is strong, and we will not be defeated–not while I have breath in my lungs.” She holds a fist to chest. “Your trust in this mission, and in me, will not go to waste. We will be victorious! MEIA will be victorious! Humanity will survive!” 

The crowd goes into an uproar, the speech instilling the fire in the people that she was hoping for. To spread this hope is what Maylin is best at. It is what enabled her to form the agency in the first place. The head agents around her all nod. She slips back into the jeep’s passenger seat. Jinx is driving this jeep. Celest has control of another jeep, Alistair drives the suv with Lerissa, and Sol is in one of the pickup trucks. 

Each head agent has agents with them, and every car has at least one senior agent to it. The civilians are apart from the head agents to hopefully keep them safer. 

The sun has just breached the horizon line when The front jeep with Maylin and Jinx takes off. The rest of the company follows. 

The move has begun and the future is unknown.

[ ooc !

Congratulations, agents. You have survived to this point of the story and from here on out it only gets harder. The move will take place during the next two weeks. There will be 5 posts that will go up with a prompt attached to them regarding the move.

It is not mandatory for you to respond, but it will give the head agents fuel for the next large lore post. :) 

each prompt can be done as a small solo or as a thread. 

Here is the first one : 

( Now that the move has begun, how is your agent feeling going into this? It’s going to be a five day journey to the outskirts of Tacetel. Do you think you will make it in one piece? )

If you have question do not hesitate to reach out, and as always. 

Good luck, agents. ]

[karmaalwayswins]

@writerscreed prompt 267: sleepless nights and starless skies

----------

Ten Years: Remembering the Amos Comfort Hotel Disaster

February 19, 2022

Duncan Marster and Elena Smith Staff Writers Kiplin Daily Post

Monday, February 21 will mark the tenth anniversary of the Amos Comfort Hotel Disaster. The devastating explosion, which ultimately was determined to be caused by a spellcasting mishap, still affects the city today. The area of the explosion continues to be an exclusion zone due to residual magical energy, and continues to be under observation by experts at Susquehanna University. The person toll was heavy as well. 33 dead, 105 injured, including hotel employees Brandon Pence and Dunleavy Park, who were determined to have to unintentionally caused the disaster. We decided to catch up with a few people who experienced the events of that day. 

Keira Jameson was six years old when the explosion occurred. She, her parents, and her little brother were sharing a room in the hotel. She was blown out of a bathroom window when the hotel erupted, landing on the roof of a convenience store across the street. She lost her right leg below the knee, and two fingers on her right hand. She suffered burns as well. Even so, she survived. Today, she’s a friendly 16-year-old high school student, living in Rye, New York with her aunt and uncle. She runs track, and hopes to compete in the Paralympics someday.

“I haven’t been to Kiplin since the incident,” she says, “But when I was invited to the anniversary, I knew I had to come.” She shows me a pink rubber bracelet marked with the letters “SSB” standing for her father Stanley, her mother Stephanie, and her brother Brian, all of whom died in the explosion. “I just want to say their names, let everyone know that I remember.”

Dr. Wilhelm Jennings was on Emergency Department duty at Three Circle Hospital that evening. He cared for many of the victims. Today, he serves as Chief of Emergency Medicine at Three Circle Hospital.

“I remember the night sky having no stars when I was driving to work. It was clear outside, just no stars. It made me nervous. I’ve since learned that a starless sky can be a sign of a massive rise in mystical energy, but I didn’t know that at the time. Within a few hours, I got the call for a mass casualty incident. We saw a few critical patients, but mostly walking wounded. As it turned out, you either were able to get out of the area under your own power, or with someone’s help, or you died on site. We didn’t immediately know that the explosion was magic related, that information came a couple of hours later. We ended up running out of Merlinmax and had to courier some in from Wilmington.”

Annette Springer, now a local physical therapist, was at the movies that night. “I was out with my wife, Heather. We were just dating at time time. I had to convince her to go out that night. She’s 1/4th werewolf, and I think somehow she just knew something was gonna happen. Nowadays, I trust her instincts. We had just finished watching ‘Four Sleepless Nights in Paris’ when the movie theater shook. We ran outside and saw the hotel on fire. Then we just ran for it with everyone else.” 

The ten year memorial service for the Amos Comfort Hotel Disaster will be held at City Hall on Monday. The names of those killed will be read, in some cases by their loved ones. A wreath will be laid at the Memorial Wall. No events will be held at hotel itself, given its current status. In an official statement from his office, Mayor Joe Fountain states, “I hope it will be a time to solemnly reflect on the events of that day, which even now continue to affect our city.”

[lokis-little-kitten]

Teaching Assistant 1

Title: Teaching Assistant Writer: Lokis-Little-Kitten Pairing: LokixReader Rating: Mid Warning: spankings, mentioning of masturbation, ED, college, teacherxstudent Summary: You get a job as a teaching assistant for you professor Loki Laufeyson. Quickly the relationship takes a turn when Loki offers to teach you the robes of BDSM. 

You sit down and grab the books and notepad that you need for your class. The book- Mansfield Park- was absolutely amazing and you mourn the fact that this month is over and so this book. Professor Laufeyson- the Literature professor- always has you read one book per month and has you write an essay on it. 

Professor Laufeyson is definitely your favourite teacher here at Asgard University. He is the son of the dean, Odin Allfather, and brother of the next dean Professor Odinson. 

Professor Laufeyson is a strange one- you have to admit- but he has passion. He loves literature and that makes him a great teacher. He is stern though… You have never seen him laugh or even smile. He doesn’t allow you in without your book- not even to listen to his lecture- and holds the old fashion dear to his heart. He isn’t that old yet, however. Only twenty-something. Not much older than you-you believe. 

He is also very handsome. It may be unprofessional to think that of your professor but you can’t go around it. Raven black hair that barely reaches his shoulder is always combed back. Pale skin and piercing green eyes adore his skinny face and match his lean body perfectly. He always wears a suit- with tie!- while dominating the room. He is basically the wet dream of everyone. Handsome, smart, good family, money and secure job, what else more would- could- you ask for? 

You and your best friends always wonder how he would be in private. Would he be just as domineering or would he let go a bit? Be a playful gentle black lab? You just don’t know… 

When said best friend- Dimitri- walks in he smiles at you. ‘’There is my bestest friend of all time,’’ he chirps as he pulls you in a hug. ‘’Hey there baby,’’ you chuckle and hug him back. Dimitri is like family to you. You were removed from your home when you were only ten years old and went from foster family to foster family. Dimitri is here from America because he wanted to study in the UK. He rarely sees his useless parents as well and so you sought comfort in each other. 

Then Professor Laufeyson strides in. In a straight line he goes for the desk and lays his bag on the table. He pulls out Mansfield Park and his laptop. Next, he starts the beamer and connects his laptop to it so it shines on the white-board. The long coat slides from his shoulder and is then parked on the back of his chair. 

All of this takes him a while but everyone is quiet. The gaze of every student is focussed on the man in front of you. He then finally stops walking around and stares at you for a moment. 

‘’So,’’ his voice then echoes, ‘’I see you have made it to my class. Good, because today I have an announcement. Since the first month of this year is over I will need a teaching assistant. This will obviously be great on your resume, help your grades, give you time off school, count as volunteering this year and may even secure a job on this very university. If you are interested you will have to fill out a form that you can find in your email and send it to me before tomorrow. Next class I will announce who got the job.’’ 

A careful hand is raised in the first row. ‘’Miss Jobbs, what is it,’’ Loki asks coldly. ‘’How will this person be selected.’’ ‘’I will. Who I think is most fitting will get the job, simple. Any other questions?’’ His gaze scans the class until another hand rises. 

‘’Mister Fors?’’ Loki slightly turns towards the boy on the third row. ‘’Well… Will things like grades or attendance count in this progress?’’ ‘’Most certainly! Everything, mister Fors,’’ Loki spits out while leaning on his chair, ‘’will count in this choice. Now let’s continue but before that.’’ 

Suddenly his gaze falls onto you. ‘’Miss Y/L/N, does your sitting position enhance your academic performance?’’ You look at yourself. You have one foot folded under you and the other over your knee. It’s comfortable. 

‘’Yes?’’ Loki raises his brows. ‘’Very well then. Can I then assume you are able to tell me why Mansfield Park is such a brilliant but lesser-known novel from Miss Auston?’’ And so the class has started. 

Professor Laufeyson gives all of you some homework and Wuthering Heights to read at home but then lets you go. You’re relieved that there is a break after his class, it is always so intense that you're in dire need of it!

You sit down at a bench with a hot latte next to you. Dimitri sits down on the opposite site and gives you a smile. ‘’So… Teaching Assistant. Sounds good to me, what about you?’’ You nod and get your laptop. ‘’I think I will apply but I don’t  think he’ll choose me. I mean nor my attendance or grades are perfect and that is what he looks for… perfection,’’ you mumble while still clicking on the email. 

You open the form and read it through. Standard things. Class, name, age, major. You fill it in and send it to your teacher while chatting with Dimitri. ‘’The question is, however,’’ you smirk hitting the send button, ‘’will you apply?’’ Dimitri shrugs. ‘’Nah… I don’t need the extra work. I just want to relax.’’ You nod a little and open your drive.

You’re a bit of a writer and so do it in all of your spare time. You have written and ton of stories already. Passionate fighters, tearful expeditions and ‘written erotica’ you could better qualify under BDSM… You have a hidden soft spot for it. 

Never did you bring it up in any of your relationships or even to your friends. You never went to any forms to talk to other. You’re just you and you write about it in secret. 

Your secret… 

The week passes slowly as usual. You like going to school but sometimes you get sick and tired of the endless lecturing. Then the first class of this week with Professor Laufeyson rolls around. 

When you walk in you can feel the nervous atmosphere in the room. Most people want to know who got the assistant position. You too fidget with your rings while waiting for Laufeyson to walk in. 

‘’Hello class,’’ then echoes through the room accompanied by his heavy footsteps, ‘’good to see you all survived the four days without this class. ’’ 

He does his normal routine while letting everyone wait in excitement. He then casually starts his class. He explains a million things but not much sticks this week. He probably tells you half of the same things tomorrow anyways. He then finally finishes up. 

‘’I expect you to have one-fourth of your essay done on Thursday and then… What you- apparently- all have been waiting for this class. Who has the assistance position.’’ You are already talking yourself down. He won’t pick you… Why did you even apply with those grades? It’s pathetic. Hopefully, no one finds out. 

‘’Miss Y/L/N, you are the lucky girl that has the position from now on I expect you in my office in ten minutes to discuss everything.’’ Your eyes widen when he says it. You… Is he sure he means you? Maybe he just got the wrong name. He must have. 

The class start to empty out when you get out of shock and able to pick up your stuff. You quickly do and rush to the professor's office. You wait for it to be exactly ten minutes since he is very keen on punctuality. 

You knock once, twice… Answer. ‘’Come in!’’ You open the door and peer into his office. You had never been inside. It is beautifully old and cosy. The walls are wood panels with patterns in them. The floor is carpet which you didn’t expect but the grey-brown pattern compliments the room. 

On the left is his desk that is the same colour brown wood as the walls. The leather chair behind him is green just like all of the other accent colours in the room like the lamps. Everything metal is a golden shade while fabric is that same dark green. On the right side is a fireplace that burns softly with two bookcases on both sides. In the corners are green-brown chairs you can sit in and read. The office is perfect for Professor Laufeyson, undeniable.

‘’Miss Y/L/N, come sit,’’ he speaks pointing at the simple green brown chairs in front of his desk. ‘’Thank you,’’ you whisper while walking towards the left chair quietly. You feel like you’re not allowed to make any noise here. 

‘’I assume you were rather surprised when I said your name? It was written all over your face,’’ he mumbles while looking down on a paper with a red Sharpie in hand. ‘’Yes,’’ you breathe. ‘’Why is that?’’ He still doesn’t look up at you, almost ignoring you. 

‘’I’m not a perfect student I-’’ ‘’No your not that is why I chose you.’’ Finally, he looks up from his work. ‘’I think you have it in you to become a great student. Maybe one of the best I’ve had.’’ You furrow your brows. ‘’Well… thank you?’’ 

Professor Laufeyson puts away his marker and now gives you his full attention. ‘’Miss Y/L/N, the reason I asked you here was so we can discuss your duties as my assistant. You will be required in my office after your last class everyday, unless I dismiss you beforehand. Understood?’’ ‘’Yes.’’ 

‘’Good, most of it will be self-explanatory when it comes along but there are some things you need to know before we start all of this.’’ 

Half an hour later you finally leave his office. This guy really is intense. He asked you at least a million different questions, told you about him and the uni while also telling all of the rules. You were quick to get your notebook when he started to tell you the rules. Luckily he was so kind to repeat them every now and again so you could write them down.

He had you print your schedule as well so he could find you if he needed you when in class and so he knew when to expect you. He also had you print out some other things. Luckily there is a Bluetooth printer located in his office.

When you finally get home the only thing you want to do is write, eat and sleep. So that is what you do. You write a smut- BDSM- story because… why not and have dinner. You’ll print your story tomorrow, you tell yourself when you are ready to go to bed. 

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