#I was reading it like damn!! This feels like they’ve probably seen my shit. Maybe that’s just ego tho.

[vitrificvitriol]

Alright which one of u absolute chads is stickywrobots and please explain to me why the chapter count reads as 1 out of 18 (HELLO?)

If u guys would also want to read some fun Asdead [ AO3 ]

[crowandmousewritingco]

If You're Reading This

Pairing: Joel Miller x nb!reader

Word Count: 4.5k

Rating: PG-13, there's no spice. It's all angst bay-beeeeeee

Summary: You met Joel while out on a 'hunting run', you startle him and in return he almost shoots you. After everything settles the two of you get to talking and decide to stay in contact one of the only ways, via letters. Over the time writing each other, you grow feelings for him, and learn things about yourself that you don't know how he'll handle. Telling him, he goes silent, but you refuse to give up hope. Will your hope be enough to keep you going?

Author: Mod Crow (Got a new job so life has been ahhhhh)

Author's Note: The reader says their age. This was for @burntheedges' Roll-A-Trope! I was very back and forth on how I wanted this to play out, in the end I'm pretty happy with it.

Masterlist

Warnings: Language, mentions of suicide, and mentions of raiders and guns.

Dear Joel,

Thanks for not shooting me today, I wasn’t even in my best attire to die. I’m kidding. Not about the not shooting me thing. 

It was nice really meeting someone who didn’t want to kill me or rob me. It was also nice having the help dragging a deer all the way back to this place. I only hope my butchering and fileting skills aren’t getting rusty. But hey, if they are, you said something about you showing me “the way it’s done in the big beauty of Texas” or however you worded it. I know you aren’t here, but I need you to know that I’m currently laughing. I made myself laugh. Gods, I’m losing it aren’t I?

 Anyways, I should probably start cooking myself something to eat before the sun goes down. If you ever head this way and stop at this place, you should leave me a little letter or something. Obviously, I left this one for you in an obvious spot -and that’s what you should do as well- then after that we can start putting them in more well-hidden places, we can’t have someone finding them before we have a chance to. But that’s for the next letter.

-Y.F.

P.S. Y.F. means your favorite, I know what I am, you don’t have to tell me.

Hey Smartass,

Now that I like the sound of. Oh, and drop the formality, I’m not your pen pal or some shit like that. Ellie wanted me to tell you that “if you try to replace her as my favorite, she will stab you”. I don’t pick favorites. Just so you know. I haven’t had a favorite person in a while now…

God let’s stop talking about the sad shit anymore. I saw a baby squirrel on the porch as I was walking up. I thought maybe he had lost his mama or daddy; I’m thinking that’s what he also thought because when one of his -what I can only assume- parents came back they had scared that poor little thing so bad that he damn near jumped three feet high. I was kind of wishing you could have seen it, I remember you telling me how much you loved nature and all that stuff. Don’t read into that.

Anyways, I don’t know what it’s like heading up from the southwest, but Ellie and I ran into more raiders than we normally do. I don’t know why there’s more, but I’m not liking how things are looking.  

I left you some ammo and rations hidden in the fireplace. Ellie left you something, she wouldn’t tell me, besides that it was hidden in the bathroom. That’s all she told me, so I’m guessing that means good luck. 

-Joel 

I’m not calling you my favorite, I don’t have a favorite between you two nuisances 

Dear party-pooper,

Yes, that’s what I’m calling you from now on, you fucking party-pooper. ANYWAYS, I found your stash, thanks. The ammo was a life saver…literally…the rations could have at least been a good one. You left me some beef jerky (the only good thing in that damn ration), some stale ass cracker, and some unidentifiable fruit-like substance. 

The raiders though, they’ve actually been better. Based on my guess, I think they might have migrated up your way. If you think it’s getting too bad for a bit, I get that, don’t feel pressured to write me back whenever you’re here next. 

On a lighter note, Ellie hid a book that she’d think I’d like. So far, her shot in the dark has struck bull’s-eye. Tell her I said thank you. As for where she hid it -you’re gonna love this- she pulled the medicine cabinet off the upstairs bathroom’s wall, knocked out a small bit of drywall, and hid it in the wall before replacing the cabinet. It took me far longer than it should have, but who the fuck would look behind the cabinet on the wall? The cabinet, mind you, looked like it had never been pulled off the wall. Fuck, I really gotta give her credit for how creative she is with hiding places. You should take notes. Your hiding spots in the past have been…kinda in plain sight. Love you old man, but you suck at hiding. Expect, I give you credit to this last drop, up the chimney fluke. Maybe you still have it in you after all, old man.

Anyways…I left some things for you in the door of the fridge. It’s not much this time, things have been rough at this place. We let in this new couple, and they’ve been super suspicious. The first night they were here, the woman -Gabrielle- was found snooping around in the owner of the farm’s wife’s dresser. Gabrielle couldn’t give us a straight answer as to why she was snooping. That wasn’t even the weirdest bit, that same night the man -Kenneth- was snooping around in ALL of our shit. I woke up at gods only know, probably 3 or 4 in the morning. I didn’t think he got any of shit. I didn’t look though, and that’s on me. He got away with most of the things I was going to give you, what he didn’t take is hidden for you. I left Ellie some magazines I found about alternative bands from before the pandemic. I don’t even know if she knows what alternative music is, gods you probably don’t know what alternative music is. I’ll explain that to you in person one of these days. 

-Your favorite nuisance 

You fucking child, 

You and Ellie act like the exact same person sometimes I swear. Sometimes I feel like it’s just Ellie leaving me these notes. 

Forget all that, you said that the ammo I stashed for you came in handy? What happened? Are you okay? Were you injured? What happened to the other guy? That’s something I would have paid to see. If half of what the shit you’ve said in the past were true, then you’re a pretty good aim. 

What you left me enough, the granola was honestly a god sent. You have no idea how boring coffee was getting. Ellie also said -and I quote- “Hell yeah these bitches look sick.” I have no idea where she’s heard that, because it sure as hell wasn’t me. 

Backtracking -kind of- I know we’ve talked raiders, how have those fucking clickers been? I think because of that “migration” or whatever the hell you called it, they’ve been out there killing those fuckers while they snuck through the shadows. Our raider problem went up, but the clicker problem. It’s been too quiet recently. But following that thought, your raider problem went down, so that means your clicker problem got worse. Didn’t it? Fuck… You’re a pain in my ass, but I like this banter I get to have. You should come with Ellie and I back to our little place. It isn’t much, but Ellie’s been complaining that where we are isn’t “comfortable”. I swear she says what she says just to test my patience. But, yeah, Ellie would love it. She’d never shut up and it wouldn’t be me for once. Just give us the when and we’ll meet you here.

-Joel M.

Hey grumpy,

I think I like this nickname the best so far. I do swear one thing to you grumps, I am 100% NOT Ellie. I’m your…something. I’ve been kinda held up in my room at the farm this past week. I’ve been thinking about some things after the raiders. That’s not something I lied about; I am a pretty good shot. So was the leader of the little gang. He was 100% aiming for my head, I’m only alive because I got lucky. He drew his gun quicker than I did, he aimed quicker than I could, and he pulled that fucking trigger before I could…His gun jammed. It took me a minute to even register that I was still alive. When I realized though, gods, was I ready. Almost dying makes you really think about how you want to be remembered by people. 

I don’t even know if what I’m thinking would make sense to you. Ellie might, but all she’s ever known is…well whatever it is she grew up knowing. These are things that I haven’t thought about since…fuck, well before the outbreak. Bare with me as I try to figure out to explain this in writing that isn’t going to be a fucking novel. 

Actually, before I do that, I want to get this out there first. if you aren’t sure you want to be a part of this emotional blah, I got lucky. Ken left his bag open in Gabrielle’s room right next to her bag in her room! What’s even better? Neither of them were anywhere near the bags, Gabrielle was helping with dinner and Ken was helping with fence repair. I left you just under half of the ammo they had -hey, gotta keep myself safe- and Ken’s utility hatchet like thing (you’ll see what I mean). I also snatched you some more granola. I have no idea how this old couple is doing it, but they have so many oats. They also have a fucking bee house! You know what that means? Fresh honey! And just for you grumps, I snatched a mason jar for the two of you. Honey’s also good for a sore throat. I know it’s getting cold out there. I’ve actually been knitting (I know, I must be lying about my age. I’m not, I swear. I learned how to knit because of my grandma. When I was probably six or seven, I made a huge deal out of wanting to learn to do what my grandma was doing. So, she taught me. After the outbreak, I needed something to do with my hands, otherwise things…things would be incredibly different right now. Gods, sorry about the ramble.) some scarves for the two of you. You have no idea how much yarn got left behind in the stores. If after you read this, you decide you still want me to go with you I will. We can do it the weekend after next. Next week is my birthday and Marieann and George (the old couple of the farm) told me that it was “my day to relax and rest up after the hard year.” Who am I to go against what a sweet old lady tells me to do? That being said, I don’t like not knowing what’s going on and how the two of you are doing. At this point, what’s even the point of keeping track of birthdays anymore? Like, “Yay I lived another horrid year on this dying hunk of space rock, can’t wait to suffer through another one! Anyways, I'm sneaking out past curfew to leave you a note if the plan has changed. Anywho…I found more magazines for Ellie. I’ve hid them in the pantry. She’s smart. Your is hidden in the basement behind that dresser, it’s the same idea as what the kid did in the upstairs bathroom cabinet.

Back to the emotional blah…If anything I write doesn’t make sense, you can try asking Ellie. She may know. Gods, I thought it would be easier to write this out, not having to see your weathered (ignore that) expression change. To what? I don’t know. Anything? Fuck it…Joel when we meet, I thought I had figured myself out. When I met you, I was sure I was a woman. I don’t think that I am…I’m not a man either though. I’m neither? I don’t know how to explain this. Okay, so I was she/her when we met, you were -and still are- he/him. Well, if I’m neither of them I have to have a way to refer to myself, right? I do, instead of she or he, I’m…them. Or they! Well, it’s more like both, they/them. Gods I’m shaking so bad right now haha, I’m just really scared of losing you two…You two have been the first good thing since this shitstorm started. I know I can’t make you write me back, but I can ask you to at least leave me something saying you’ll either come back and write a new note or some kind of…I don’t know sign? That doesn’t feel like the right word, but note isn’t the word I want to use…I don’t know Joel, just please leave something. I don’t care how long it takes; I’ll keep coming back till I get another note from you. Even if that means I die doing this because you chose to leave, and I wouldn’t hate you for it. 

That���s all I’ve to say. I really do…like you Joel, when thinking, remember I am the person from all of those letters and the few times we met.

-Your Raven no    Magpie also no Crow now that’s one I like

Joel, 

Hey, I came back this weekend, I’m 26 now! Yay! I’m not going to lie; I’m terrified right now. The clickers are getting worse around the farm, they aren’t too bad on the way here yet, but I know they will be.

I checked to see if you took the stuff, and you did. I saw that Ellie left me a comic book and a band shirt from one of those mags I gave her. I can’t believe she was able to find one, let alone one in my size. I also saw that you left me some ammo and another ration. I know it isn’t much, but it’s something. It gives me hope, and that’s all most of us have nowadays. Along with that hope, I also hope that you'll come back again. If that’s the case, I’ve left you both some things, same places as last. 

Joel, for you, more granola (enough for the both of you), a scarf for you, some peach preserves (Marieann opened up some preserves she had made to be opened about this time), and some bread I baked. I warn the bread isn’t pretty, but with the chill, it should last a bit longer.

For Ellie, her scarf, a couple of mangas I found (this will be fun to hear how that goes), a Swiss army knife I found on a dead raider (I know it’s gruesome, but it’s the world we live in now), and a slightly used deck of cards. I felt like she could find a way to entertain herself why you do whatever it is you do when you want to be alone.

-Your hope filled Crow

Hey again,

You took the things again, and you left some more for me. It’s still something. No matter how little. It just hit me, these letters are going to be getting shorter and shorter until I hear from you huh?

Should I even keep writing to you? Maybe don’t answer that. Or do. You take all the time you need. I’m leaving you guys some more things, the same place as before.

-Your Crow

Hey, 

I’m sorry about how long it took, I’ll be honest, I didn’t understand at all, and it freaked me out a bit. I asked Ellie if she they understood it and they did. They also came to realize that about themselves too. No, I don't fully understand it, but I’m willing to learn.

Thanks for the scarves, they’ve really helped with the chill at night. Ellie was so intrigued by that one that I’m guessing was the manga. I have no idea if they figured it out, but they’re having a blast trying. 

The clickers have been a bit more active around us too. I wonder where they’re all coming from though. 

Ellie and I are ready to head out, just tell us when. We’ve gathered all we could, the rest of the stuff we’re leaving is replaceable. Thanks to your scarf we’ve managed to carry a bit more stuff, not the way you meant for them to be used but they’re multifaceted. 

I don’t know if Ellie has anything to leave, but I’m assuming it’s in the bathroom. I don’t have much to leave, I found some yarn. I just happened upon it when looting some cars on the main road. I also found a broken bow. I don’t know if you can fix it, but maybe that old man, George(?) could fix it, or maybe someone else in the house. They’re in the basement, it’s the only place they’d fit. 

I want to help you keep that hope alive. I have one of my own, I hope we can get somewhere warm and safe together.

Joel, with…

Holy fuck,

Joel, you came back?! Thank you fuck…thank you. If you could see me, I am a mess right now. Gods you’d get a kick. 

I wasn’t able to fix the bow, but George was! I guess he used to bow hunt back in the day. He said it may take him a bit; he has to dig out his tools. I’ll leave a letter the night before with an update. If you find a letter then there’s kink in the plans, if you don’t find a letter then it’s because I was there waiting, or I died. Or some other third thing, I like being dramatic sometimes. 

With this plan may be happening, I’m not leaving much. This time it’s a kindle of firewood. Dry firewood hidden in the sugar in a mason jar. I remember you saying you drank coffee, and you were growing tired of the taste. So have some sugar, make it sweeter. Maybe add honey too. 

-Your Crow

Dear Joel,

I know you hate the formality of these kinds of letters, but for once, just let it be. See the thing is I’m writing this as a “worst case scenario” kinda thing… I started writing about an hour ago for me, gods only know how long it’s been for you. To put in perspective the time difference, I’m writing this the same day I read your letter you had left, the letter about the plans about me coming with the two of you to find somewhere else. 

I don’t know what has happened to me to force my hand in leaving this letter, but if I had to take a shot in the dark, I’ve probably been shot by other survivors. I’ve been bitten. If I remember, I’ll try to come back and write what really happened. Anyways, I know we had a plan, I also know that you’re a strong man. You don’t need me; I would have just slowed you down. So now you have to promise me you’ll keep that kid safe. Oh, and if you happen to find yourself in Omaha -I know we’re several hundred miles away, but you never know- stop by 1004 Cicada drive. It’s where I was living when all of the shit hit the fan. Now, I won’t be there to give you the tour, so you better not go tracking mud or anything inside. 

Look, there are some things in that house that I think could be beneficial to you, I know you’ll find what you need. I have some things out in the garage, there’s some other things in the attic, and then there’s some things down in the basement’s crawl space. Now, it’s going to be dusty and dirty down there, but back before all of this, it was a beautiful basement. I had just finished painting it that beautiful blue color that has since been destroyed by some fucking raiders. Fuck, look at me gushing over my old basement. I must really sound like some weird fucker, huh? 

Anyways, if I’m dead and that’s why you’re reading this, I just wanted to tell you some things…Where do I even start? I guess I’ll start light, that’s what you do right? I don’t know why I keep asking questions, I don’t know your answers to them. Gods do I wish I did know your answers, writing this with the unknown has been killing me. If you could see me right now, you’d have a pretty good laugh, I’m shaking like the last fall leaf in a big dying tree in the middle of a tornado. Fuck, I’m rambling…Look I’m really happy we ran into each other when we did, that day you almost shot me in the forest -behind this decrepit house- I lied to you. You asked me why I was out there, I told you I was looking for some animals to catch. I wasn’t…I couldn’t take any more of this bullshit. So, I was gonna beat the zombies to my death, and I wasn’t giving them the satisfaction of bringing me back to be some brainless creature monster. I was going to paint a bit of the forest with gray matter. When you insisted on helping me because you also needed food, I was honestly kinda pissed. But now? Now I’m happy you stuck around. Joel, I don’t wanna make you feel any type of way but…You are the only reason I’m still here on this shithole of a planet. Also…you sticking around had affected me in ways I wasn’t expecting…Joel thanks to you Joel, spending all of that time with you, getting to actually know you, exchanging stories, all of that shit. All of that meant means far more than you could understand, and in that time, I grew to fell in love with you Joel. 

I should have told you in person not through a piece of paper. I know there isn’t much I can say now…. but I am sorry. I wish I could have told you in person, I really do, I wish I could have heard your lips say it back. I can only imagine how your raspy, yet honeysuckle sweet voice would say those three words “I. Love. You.” Gods the thought of it…

Anyways, if I keep going, I might accidently write you a book. For whatever reason it is that made me tell you where to find this, I’m happy I got to meet you when I did. Make sure to tell Ellie I said hi. You make sure you keep that girl safe or so Gods help you, Joel Miller. 

-Your Crow, with love

P.S. Joel I don’t know how much longer I have till I turn, but I just wanted to say before I die, I love you Joel, tell Ellie I love her too. I left you my remaining ammo and handgun. I left Ellie my lucky bullet casing -we both know she’ll love it- and my bracelet, the one with that little metal rabbit foot charm. You have no idea how excited I was to leave that lonely farm. I would finally be with people I cared about and who cared about me. Like who actually cared about me. 

I had a weird feeling that this is how things would go, so I planned. I know I’m leaving you my handgun and ammo. The handgun only has one bullet right now. You can fill it the rest of the way and leave, or you can do what I was too scared to do in the end…Kill me. Right now, I’m in the kitchen writing this. I don’t feel good, I feel like someone beat me with a lead pipe. My head is throbbing, and I can’t tell if I’m sweating because I’m hot with a fever, or if because of a cold chill. 

I thought I’d have a bit of time, you know, write you some more, pour my heart out on paper for you, but I don’t. It wasn’t a deep bite, but it was a bite, nonetheless. I tried to sneak past this clicker, I was doing so well until I lost my balance and stumbled, twisting my ankle. I didn’t try to fight it, I thought I’d have better luck running back here. I didn’t…  

I love you Joel, I really really ….

*Joel’s POV*

Your writing at the end was practically ineligible, trailed off almost. Joel wasn’t quite sure, what he was sure of, was the feeling of his heart break. An all too familiar break, one he hadn’t felt since Sarah’s mom…

Joel quickly and silently tore his path through the house, he was certain that you were playing some kind of sick cruel joke. 

“Joel. Joel! Come on man,” Joel could hear Ellie, but for some reason his legs wouldn’t stop. He had to prove Ellie wrong, that’s why. Yeah, that makes sense. “Joel, Jesus fucking Christ. STOP!” Hearing Ellie’s loud voice had pulled him to a halt. 

“Joel, I know you loved them man, I did too. I don’t know what hell-bent path you’re on, but you aren’t going to find them okay. I know,” Joel looked to Ellie, his unfocused eyes taking a moment. When his eyes finally focused, he could see it, he could see the tears that were pouring from Ellie’s face. That’s when he realized he too was crying. “I looked for them after I found their rabbit’s foot bracelet. I think they’re in the basement, the door is locked or jammed. I can’t get it open.” Joel swallowed the pained howls that wanted to rip through his tired body. Clearing his throat, Joel quickly wiped his face on his jacket sleeve. 

“You stay up here; I’ll get it figured out. No matter what, I don’t care if you're curious or something else, don’t under any circumstances come down there am I clear?” Joel clenched his jaw, he needed something to focus on something, so why not something he can do. 

Ellie never responded verbally, but Joel saw the stiff nod. Turning from Ellie Joel tried to make quick work of finding the things you left. It took him far less time than he expected. Joel also found a key; one he could only assume you left. It wasn’t particularly noteworthy or showy, but if he had to guess, it would unlock that basement door. Was that even something he wanted to do? Kill you? Or rather, kill the already dead you? 

Heading back to the dining room, Joel looked at the things he had found in the house. The one catching his attention first? Your handgun. The one with only one bullet loaded in it. Picking up the gun, Joel examined it in his hand, the handle was worn, faint groves noticeable to the touch. The metal on it had definitely seen better days, days when the metal was clean and before it was used in all of this shit. 

Swallowing the lump in his throat down, Joel took the key -along with the gun- to the basement door. Standing there, Joel simply stared at the handle. God only knows how long he stood there, but hearing Ellie walk into the dining room, pulled him back to the doorknob in hand. Gripping the gun tighter, Joel carefully put the key into the knob. Giving it a trying twist, Joel felt it resist for a second, before a soft ‘click’ could be heard. Gripping the knob, Joel twisted it slowly and carefully pulled the door open. There wasn’t a single sound coming from the basement, maybe you had found a way to do this. Something he was now dreading. Readying the gun, Joel carefully made his way down the stairs, trying to be as light as possible on his feet. 

Once his feet hit the basement floor, Joel clicked on his flashlight. The basement wasn’t huge by any means, but it did have a smaller room off the back wall. Walking towards the doorway, Joel practically held his breath to listen for the all too well known cl-

The sound of clicking slowly filling the air as he grew closer. The sound put him to a stop. Can he really do this? Yes, because you shouldn’t have to be one of them. Clenching his jaw Joel continued on. 

In the doorway, Joel could barely make out the shadow of you, or at least what used to be you. It was kind of hard to tell for certain where the bite was for certain, but it seemed as if it was your shoulder. As he stood there, Joel was silent, he wanted to remember what you were like, this wasn’t you and he knew that. You were gone by now, long gone and he knew that. Raising the gun, Joel closed his eyes for a moment. Opening his eyes, Joel cocked the handgun, the click of the hammer grabbing your attention. Staring at what used to be your face, Joel could feel the tears run down his face. 

“I’m sorry I wasn’t quicker my Crow.” His last word punched through the silence, with the loud echo of a spent shell.

'''''''

The divider was made by the beautiful @mikeykuns

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[artemisrisen]

chapter 51 musings/impressions

This chapter caused every synapse in my brain to fire off like cannonballs during a battle at high sea. This isn’t anything coherent, just word vomit as I process everything that’s happened. I may go back and edit as I think of more things or decide how to phrase other things better. cut for massive spoilers below. 

By the way, this is fantastic for non-Japanese reading fans because there is barely any dialogue. Just mad, bad, and rad touching, baby

-          The color pages are so ominous. Let’s get this pissed-off parade going

-          I don’t like Doumeki shoving Yashiro like that. With that being said, Yashiro SHOT DOUMEKI IN BOTH OF HIS LEGS and LEFT HIM IN AN ABANDONED WAREHOUSE. Not to mention Yashiro gets him back tenfold (twenty-fold?) in this very same chapter. So I can probably get over it.

-          Doumeki, who hasn’t moved a facial muscle in days, yells at a resisting Yashiro to stop acting like that when they’ve already done it; his expression is nothing like the cold, remote Yakuza he’s role-played as, but pure-cut Doumeki from pre-Sakura days, pre-hospital days: it’s not just anger at all, but desperation.

-          And Yashiro sees it: he realizes Doumeki is truly angry –the angriest he’s ever seen him, he thinks— and the switch is flipped. Doumeki’s indifference has eaten at him throughout the time-skip chapters; no matter how he prods or ingratiates himself, Doumeki seemed to be as unmoved as a mountain. I know there were even readers who questioned if Doumeki still loved Yashiro (which is, you know, absurd.) But now—now Doumeki is furious and it shows all over his face and his actions - and it’s because of Yashiro. Doumeki, who was unreachable, is suddenly right here. You can see Yashiro visibly relax into the ministrations; he pets Doumeki’s hair and even begins to pull the other man’s jacket off, which is shockingly active for him as a participant in sex.

-          Of course, this causes Doumeki to freeze in his angry lovemaking. Because he seems to know that Yashiro will be Pretty Unhappy with the back tattoo – the bridge that cannot be uncrossed, the hope of any reintegration to normal society extinguished. But how upset was he anticipating? Maybe he expected some disgust, or being called stupid, or for Yashiro to roll away and close himself off.  

-          I think it’s safe to say he didn’t expect Yashiro to have a genuine meltdown and proceed to beat the shit out of him with his bare hands. Yashiro’s eyes resemble the same wide, unhinged look when he tried to kill Hirata with a rock –but Doumeki was unconscious then. He’s never seen Yashiro out of control, especially with his emotions. In their first conversation, Doumeki relays that Yashiro “smiles even when he’s mad”, so he knew off the bat that Yashiro hides himself. He’s seen Yashiro kick Nanahara to injury, but there was a distance in that act, like a parent calmly disciplining a child. This rage feels like the child himself is screaming and pounding on the ground to exhaustion.

-          And Doumeki can see it. He lets Yashiro just pummel him right in the face. I think, in this world they’re in plagued with violence, this is as damning as a love confession. If Doumeki’s reaction is anything to go by, which is that after Yashiro exhausts himself, Doumeki cups his cheek and then kisses him full on the mouth.

-          Their pose near parallel to their first kiss, with Doumeki kissing from above with Yashiro’s eyes still wide open in shock.

-          But this time, instead of pushing away, Yashiro meets Doumeki fully: their kissing becomes heated, and it builds until Yashiro is all but sitting in Doumeki’s lap. There’s a frame of a single line of spit connecting their lips and it’s beautiful and filthy and a precursor to the feral sex that’s about to happen.

-          Naturally it ends here, because sensei wants us frothing at the mouth and ripping the upholstery apart for the next chapter as always.

- so what’s next? I think the sex is an absolute given; Doumeki’s hand is already dipping into the back of Yashiro’s pants (and Yashiro jolts / shivers in response) on the last page, so unless Kamiya comes barging in - well, actually, even if he does come barging in, Doumeki is going to use his entire Yakuza Superior Authority and make him leave, so. I think 52 is going to be raunchy as hell, and also sad, and also intense, because that’s saezuru.

- I mean, they’re gonna break the bed, right? that flimsy-ass frame that only holds Doumeki and not a single pound more? they might have better luck on the floor, but somehow I feel like both want to deliberately fuck that poor mattress into the below neighbor’s living room.

- And what happens from here? There’s still an investigation happening; the bad guys are still out there, targeting Doumeki. Yashiro now has to contend with the idea that Doumeki is fully “in”. Will he rejoin the Yakuza despite finally getting one foot out the door? It’s really hard to say. Personally I think they should just move abroad to Hawaii or somewhere and live peacefully and anonymously on Yashiro’s hoards of cash he’s accumulated in the last 4 years.

[timeofjuly]

i keep thinking of the scenario if electrician were to run into ppl of her past like izzy from new years… i like imagine her going “ bunny it’s been so long you look better then ever “ and electrician is like 😀 do i know you..? due to their gaps in memory (i’m also interested how much their memory will affect them as the story progresses, i myself suffer from the issue and being young it’s kinda scary sometimes 😞)

This ask made me write something! This is set pre-RTC in the earlier days of MC’s sobriety. They’ve just moved to New Ebott here. 

Read it on AO3 or read it below!

Licence

You’re leaving the DMV, of all the fucking places, when it happens. 

Most people hate the DMV but you had practically skipped into the place for your eleven am appointment, overcome with joy at the thought of getting your driver’s licence back. The public transportation in New Ebott is great and your ass looks amazing after all the cycling you’ve been doing when the weather is nice, but there’s something about the independence of a car that you’ve missed. With your licence back, your employment prospects won’t be limited to the boundaries of public transport and your stamina when pedalling. 

With your licence back, you’ll be able to go to school. 

That’s the thing you’re most excited about. School. College. University. Whatever. You just want to learn something, to use the brain that you’ve let go to shit. You don’t even care what - at this point, with your dismal record and embarrassing results from high school, you’ll take what you can get. 

You’ve wasted enough of your life and you don’t want to squander a second more. 

After tucking your brand new licence safely in your back pocket, you leave the DMV, still smiling, and make your way to the bus stop. You’ll miss catching it; all the drivers are lovely and it’s nice to be driven around the city, like your own personal tour. 

You’ve got time to kill until the bus arrives, so you open your phone and start scrolling through hundreds of second hand car listings. 

You’re not picky; you have a tight budget and will probably hit your fair share of curbs in it anyway, but it’s nice to look at the fancier ones and dream. A convertible sounds nice; there’s a bright red one for sale, way outside of your budget. You imagine the wind in your hair, the sheer cool factor of rolling down the street with the top down. Oh, or maybe a motorbike; you had loved your stupid, ugly little scooter, and a motorbike would be even better. And you’d get to wear all the sexy leather gear. Double win. 

“Oh my stars, do my eyes deceive me?”

The cold hand of panic twists through your ribcage and wraps around your heart, fingers taking hold and squeezing. 

You know that voice. 

You turn around.

On the sidewalk are two people staring at you with equally ecstatic expressions and you only recognise one of them. 

Izzy looks… well, she looks good, you suppose, clothes fashionable and scales polished to a sheen, though you can see a few of them are missing. The spines on her head are droopy, a little paler in colour than what you remember, and there’s a beadiness to her eyes that you never noticed before. 

You haven’t seen her in months but from how unfamiliar she looks, it feels more like years. 

“Damn, you’re looking good!” says the man you don’t recognise. 

And you know that you knew this person once, can hear the echo of his voice through the fog of your memory, even recognise his hands for the way they’d felt on your skin, but there’s something missing, something your stupid, ruined, useless brain is unable to grasp.

“Hey,” you say, affecting your brightest party-girl smile. “Long time no see.”

“Fucking hell, no shit!” the man laughs. He’s handsome, tall and very blond. “How’ve you been? You look so different.”

With each month you add to your sobriety, you’re told that with increasing frequency. You don’t really see it yourself - you feel like the exact same person most of the time. Worse, even. You’re horrible to be around when you’re in pain. 

“Good, really good,” you say. “How have –”

“Dude, I thought you were dead!” Izzy crows, looking delighted. “You just disappeared, like that.” She snaps her fingers, a jarring scrape of scale-on-claw. 

“Yeah, we all thought that Jesse threw the bunny out with the bath water,” the man says. His tone is light, like it’s a fucking joke or something. 

This person is a stranger to you. You couldn’t even guess his name if you tried. And yet he knows about that —

You tense. Pull a smile to your face. Do your best to shake off the phantom feeling of ice crystallising on the tip of your nose. “Nah, I’m not that easy to get rid of.”

And he laughs and so does Izzy and you laugh too, even though it feels like glass in your throat, because what else can you do?

“Well, I’m glad,” says Izzy and then she sweeps you up into a hug. She smells like old perfume clinging to unwashed clothes and you can feel a faint tremble in her hands as they grip your back. 

You hug back, even though you suddenly feel strange and unwieldy, like your arms aren’t your own. 

I want to go home, you think. Another thing you’d be able to do if you just had a fucking car and hadn’t lost your fucking licence in the first place. 

Izzy pulls back but then the man swoops in to take her place. You’re pressed to the line of his body, and though you’ve probably seen it naked, touched it all over, the feel of it is foreign to you. 

You let go first. 

“What’re you doing in New Ebott, anyway?” Izzy asks. 

“Just passing through,” you lie, because fuck if you’re letting her know that you live here now. “What about you guys?”

“Same thing,” Izzy says. “We’re crashing with Palyso at the moment, remember him?”

Nope. 

“Oh, yeah, totally.”

“Yeah, good guy, really funny. Hey, he’s actually having a party tonight, you should come! Just like old times.” The stranger waggles his eyebrows at you. 

You don’t need to remember the specifics to work out what he means. 

“Yeah, come with us,” Izzy begs. “Everyone’ll be so happy to see you. I’ll make it worth your while, I promise.”

The itch you’re not allowed to scratch burns. It’d be so easy, so fucking easy, to say yes. What’s one night? You don’t even need to use; who says you can’t have fun sober?

The word yes sits in your mouth like a hot coal and then the memory of water, cracking with thin shards of ice, washes over it. 

The desire is gutted out. Not even smoke remains. 

“I’ll sit this one out,” you say. 

“Aw, c’mon, bunny! You’ve gotta—“

The sound of an engine rumbles behind you and your soul sings with relief. 

Thank you, timely public transportation of New Ebott. 

“This is me,” you say, hoping you sound apologetic. “It was nice seeing you guys!”

You don’t wait for a reply, practically flinging yourself onto the bus. The driver gives you a concerned look - you’re a regular and most of them know you by name  - but you just give her a reassuring grin, because you’re fine. You’re fine. You’re completely, one hundred per cent fine. 

You take a seat near the front and stare down at your hands. You think of the way Izzy's shook. The way yours had once. The way they don’t anymore. You hadn’t noticed that until now. 

God fucking damnit. 

Stupid, unwarranted tears prickle hot at your eyes and worse, there’s something sharp poking you in the butt. 

Fearing that you’ve sat in something that’ll rip a hole in your pants - wouldn’t that be your fucking luck - you lift your hips and grope blindly at your ass. 

Oh, right. 

You forgot that you wedged it in your pocket after leaving the DMV. 

You look down at your brand new licence, turning the shiny plastic card around in your hands. Your own face stares back up at you. 

You dig around in your purse and from the very bottom, unearth the remains of your old licence, kept purely for sentimental reasons. It’s cut clean down the middle, made unusable the moment you’d lost it, but the image of your face is still intact. 

You compare the two, side-by-side. In the new one, your face is fuller and your skin smoother. Your lips have colour to them and your eyes are bright and awake, the whites white rather than bloodshot yellow. 

In the new one, you’re smiling. 

Huh. You see it, now. 

You do look different after all.

[flowerfan2]

Enter Sandman

Steddie, 1200 words.  Read on A03 here.

Steve struggles to find a way to help Eddie with his nightmares.  (He does).

*****

After Eddie gets back, he’s haunted by nightmares.  They all are, really, but the rest of them have been through it before, and Eddie’s seem to be pretty damn awful.  Eddie doesn’t tell his new friends what happened to him in the week before they managed to retrieve his body, and no one knows why he isn’t dead.  Steve thinks that’s probably what he dreams about, but he doesn’t ask.

Eddie stays at Steve’s house for a while, until his parents come home and he goes over to the Byers’ for a few days.  But Steve didn’t prepare Will for what happens during Eddie’s nightmares, how their friend seizes and twists, how he spends hours unresponsive, his eyes staring blindly at the ceiling, moaning and crying until his throat is raw.

Will shows up at Steve’s house the next day, furious, wanting to know how Steve could have let this happen, and drags him over to Mike and Nancy’s house for a meeting.  They all sit together in the Wheeler’s basement, Eddie curled up under the table where El once hid, his arms wrapped around his knees.  They’re good kids, all of them, but their frantic brainstorming doesn’t get them anywhere.

At some point Steve pulls Will aside, and asks him if he ever had the same thing happen to him, nightmares that won’t go away and that he couldn’t wake up from.  The look on Will’s face – almost condescending, which is a rare thing for Will – makes Steve realize there’s still a lot about what Will went through, maybe still goes through, that he doesn’t know.  His heart aches for him, for all them, but he doesn’t know what to do.

Steve’s in the kitchen making mac and cheese and cutting up cucumbers for a salad – they’ve got to eat something healthy once in a while – when the music starts blaring.  He doesn’t recognize it, except to assume that it’s a hit list of Eddie’s favorites.  He checks in, and Dustin proudly explains that they have concluded that just like with Vecna, playing Eddie’s favorite songs will stop his nightmares.  Steve doesn’t tell them he’s already tried this.  Maybe it will be different this time, maybe they’ll play just the right song at just the right time.  Maybe Steve didn’t do it right, and this group of teens with their hearts on their sleeves will come up with the answer after all.

That night Dustin and Will give it their best shot, but it doesn’t work.

The next day Steve finds Eddie sitting outside on his back patio, eyes red and practically swallowed by the bags underneath them.  He looks like shit.  Steve asks him if he remembers his nightmares, and this time Eddie actually talks about it.  He says when he’s in the dream, he thinks he’s dead, he feels the demobats eating him, wrenching pieces of his flesh out with their teeth, and even though he hears the music, it doesn’t make any difference, he’s still stuck there.

Eddie describes how every time, he can feel himself being ripped apart, can see the blood gushing out of his body.  How he tries and tries to get away, but he’s frozen, unable to move and unable to wake up.  Steve sits down next to him on the deck chair and just listens as Eddie describes the different variations the dream takes, each one more terrifying  than the next.  

Eddie seems to feel a little bit better after he reveals all of this horror to Steve.  They make breakfast together, jostling each other out of the way as they pretend nothing’s wrong.  They groan about Eddie’s attempt to make bat-shaped pancakes (“then I can rip <i>them</i> apart with my teeth”), and make more of a mess of Steve’s kitchen than it may have ever seen before.  But by the afternoon Eddie is listless, exhaustion written all over his face.

Steve suggests they watch a movie, and he tucks them in on his couch with an old, soft quilt he found in a box in the attic.  Eddie leans against Steve’s shoulder, his hair tickling Steve’s nose.  For a while Steve thinks Eddie might actually get some rest, but every time he seems to drift off he jerks awake.  “Don’t know how much longer I can take this,” Eddie breathes out, and Steve wraps his arms around him, rubs his back and wishes there was something he could do to take the pain away.

That night Eddie stays at Steve’s house.  His parents are away again, and the Byers need a break.  And Steve needs Eddie nearby.  If his friend has to go through this, Steve wants to be there for him, even if he can’t do more than that.

He’s got an idea of his own to try tonight, though.  He figures it can’t hurt.

When Eddie goes to bed, Steve settles himself in the hall outside the guest room, a battered copy of some fantasy novel propped on his knees.  Dustin claims it will change his life, but he can’t focus on it, just sits quietly and listens to the sound of Eddie’s breathing behind the gently closed door.  After a while Steve cracks the door open, just enough that he can see Eddie in silhouette on the bed, the comforter pulled up to his neck.

Less than an hour after Eddie has fallen asleep, it begins.  Eddie starts to mutter and moan, and then his limbs begin to jerk.  Steve’s in the bedroom, a hand on his shoulder, in moments.

When Eddie’s eyes fly open and his body tenses, Steve turns on his tape player and starts singing along, off key, into Eddie’s ear.  

<i>Jitterbug.  Jitterbug.</i>

Eddie stills for a minute and blinks, his dark eyes unfocused.  Steve keeps going, throwing himself into it, as ridiculous as he can be.

<i>You put the boom-boom into my heart (ooh-ooh)</i> <i>You send my soul sky-high</i> <i>When your lovin' starts</i> <i>Jitterbug into my brain (yeah-yeah)</i> <i>Goes a bang-bang-bang</i> <i>'Til my feet do the same.</i>

By the time Steve gets to “wake me up before you go-go” Eddie is staring at him, breathing heavily but awake and aware. Steve sings another verse just for shits and grins, and then breaks off, laughing at the astonished look on Eddie’s face.

“It worked,” Eddie says, his eyes wide.  “How did it work?”

Steve shrugs.  “Figured you’d never voluntarily listen to Wham! – even in a nightmare.  So you’d have to realize this was something different.”

Eddie wraps Steve in a crushing hug.  “Thank you, fuck, thank you,” he says, pressing his face into Steve’s neck.  “But you know what you have to do now, don’t you?”  Eddie loosens his hold on Steve and folds back the blankets.  

Eddie’s meaning is clear, and Steve doesn’t hesitate before sliding under the blankets with Eddie and curling up against him.  

“It’s gonna happen again, though,” Eddie says, after a few moments.

“Then I’ll sing to you again.”  Steve finds Eddie’s hand and twines their fingers together.  “For as long as it takes.”

“There’s something crazy ironic about all this, isn’t there?”  Eddie says.  “You singing.  At least you didn’t try to play guitar.”

“Oh, come on.  Maybe I’m the one with the future in rock music.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Eddie says, laughing softly against Steve’s chest.  It’s the best thing Steve’s heard in a long time.

[writersmorgue]

Day 14 - captivity

read on ao3

word count: 1298

TWs in tags

╞╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╪╡

Shouta watches as Hizashi backs away from him with tears in his eyes, and he wishes he could take it all back. 

“You need to get your shit together, Shouta. I can’t even look at you right now.” Hizashi’s voice cracks, and he finally turns to exit the staff break room, furiously scrubbing his eyes. 

Nemuri hums from beside him, “Yeah, I’m with him, Sho, you’ve been a fucking mess since the raid on Friday. I think you should go back to your therapist.” She pats him on the shoulder, not unkindly, but missing the usual warmth she exudes, “Give him space, yeah?”

And then he’s alone. 

His eyes roll, and he moves to sit back down in his chair. 

“Fucking idiots,” His voice echoes in the silent room, grading to his ears. 

Yeah, the raid. He hasn’t felt right since then, either. Saying things he doesn’t believe, hurting his friends, hurting Hizashi. 

There has to be someone interfering, and the unprompted speaking and crude outbursts serve to further his theory. 

His body has been in a constant state of pins and needles for three days. He feels like a puppet with invisible strings.  

“What do you think, Eraserhead, should we hit him harder or apologize?” His mouth asks, a teasing lilt to his voice. 

Who are you? He tries to ask. What do you want?

Whoever it is must not be able to read his mind, at least there’s that. 

His legs carry him to the staff bathroom, and he locks the door before heading to the mirror over the sink.

Shouta stares at his face, unable to look elsewhere in the room. 

“Wow, you need a nap, dude.” His mouth voices, eyebrows scrunching together, as his hand comes up to brush his eyebags. “This is honestly pitiful, I don’t know why Shigaraki has such a thing for you.”

Shouta very nearly vomits trying to process that information. 

Okay, there’s a league member infiltrating UA, they don’t know what his goal is, and he’s buddy-buddy with Shigaraki. 

But Shouta can’t tell anyone. 

Godsdamn shit ass mother fucker. 

He smiles to himself in the mirror, teeth on full display, sharp canines adding to the unsettling effect. Yeah, this is why he doesn’t fucking smile. 

The villain nods in approval, poking his teeth, “Not bad, not bad.” He hums, running a palm over his scruff idly. 

He examines Shouta’s clothes, unwinding the capture scarf and setting it down in the sink. 

Shouta’s forehead is glistening in the light, hair flattened down with sweat. Maybe a side effect of sharing his body with someone else. The feeling of overheating is muted, but he’s sure the other feels it heavily. 

The villain pulls his long-sleeved shirt over his head, leaving the loose black tank Shouta usually keeps on for bed. His shoulder muscles tense with the motions, his own eyes drawn to the movement. 

Oh great, the bastard checking him out. If someone walks in right now he thinks he’ll die. 

He continues down, patting his pockets for shit. He feels around, his hand landing on the switchblade he keeps hidden, and the small bottle of eye drops. 

The school bell chimes, signaling the end of the lunch break. “Oh! Looks like we have class now. Let’s go meet our children, shall we?”

At least get my damn capture weapon.

Shouta steps away from the mirror, swiveling to the door and smacking it open with a bang, startling some last-minute stragglers who’d been chatting outside.

His body walks towards the hall of classrooms, obviously unfamiliar with the layout. They peek in every room along the way, probably looking for one of the kids they’ve seen on TV from the sports festival. 

Finally, their eyes lock on Mina’s pink skin, and they enter the classroom with confidence. 

Shouji gives him a strange look as he enters. The kid has always been perceptive, he has probably picked up on his change in demeanor. 

“Aizawa-sensei, you’re late,” Iida observes, looking back and forth between the clock and his teacher, looking unsure. 

Shouta huffs, “And you’ve got a stick in your ass, Ingenium Junior.”

Who talks to their students like that?!

“Wh- Sensei!” Uraraka squawks, gripping Iida’s shoulders.

The kid himself frowns, not looking too put off by the statement, but wary. 

“Alright,” Shouta starts, “I don’t have shit planned for today, so we’re just gonna sit here like a bunch of idiots. Which one of you can lend me 4000 Yen?”

Momo raises he hand and Shouta’s hand waves her on, “Um, is it for… hero work?”

Shouta scoffs, “What? No, I’m just fucking hungry.”

Bakugo huffs in his chair, slumping, “Fucking hypocrite.”

Shouta frowns, flicking a pen at his student, “Loser. Go suck a dick you little shit.”

The boy gapes at him, looking around the classroom to confirm what he just heard.

Midoriya is vibrating in his seat, a mix of nervous and angry energy emanating from him, “Sensei, are you feeling okay?”

Shouta glares at him, “Yes, I’m fine you quirkless pest.” Quirkless? What the fuck?!

Midoriya pales, Black Whip activating out of instinct and flicking towards Shouta’s body, stopping three or so inches from his neck.

Shouta’s quirk activates without his permission, eyes lacking their usual burn. 

“Sensei, what the fuck?” Shinsou stands from his desk, pushing his chair back. 

Yes please brainwash him and end this goddamnit.

“Is that how you brats talk to your teacher?”

“Tell us what you did with Aizawa-sensei,” Hitoshi demands. 

Shouta has hope for all of two seconds before he realizes that he is feeling the effects of Shinsou’s quirk. Which means-

“Oh did you use your quirk? I guess the jig is up then.” The villain says, “Interesting, I bet it did work on him though, too bad I can’t hear what he’s saying.”

“That means this is Sensei’s body, since his voice did answer and the quirk didn’t work…” Midoriya mutters, squinting at the floor. 

“Yeah, which means when I do this, you should panic!” He slips his hand into his pocket, whipping the knife out at lightning speed and flipping it out, holding it to Shouta’s throat. “If I die I go back to my body, but little Eraser here gets it.”

Momo gasps, moving forward instinctually.

“Ah!” The knife moves slightly to the side, and a dull sting erupts along his jugular, “No moving, brats! I’m going to need the green one to come with me.” 

He snaps his finger and a gust of wind blows from behind him. 

“Shit, the league!” Kaminari shouts, pointing unhelpfully to where Shouta cannot see.

Ah, so Kurogiri’s portal then. Awesome. 

Midoriya holds up a shaking hand, nodding, “Alright, I’ll come, just don’t hurt him anymore.”

The boy walks up to the portal, sighing when Shouta gestures for him to walk in first. 

He looks behind him briefly, taking a good look at his classmates, before stepping through, disappearing into the abyss. 

Shouta turns back to the room, smiling as the knife lowers slightly, “Alright, thanks for your help. Don’t follow!” He chimes, before moving his arm to the left and dragging it across his throat in one fluid motion, then plunging the five-inch blade into the center of his chest. 

Shouta feels the villain’s presence leave him, exiting his back like a ghost. 

He gasps in pain, falling to his knees and watching out of the corner of his eye as the portal closes. The sound of blood dripping onto the floor is the only thing permeating the silence until the kids finally process what has happened. 

He falls onto his back and someone shouts. They crowd around him, Momo putting pressure on his neck and Iida calling for help in the background. 

They’re the last thing he sees before he passes out.

[word-wytch]

*Stalky fanperson word vomit incoming - you have been warned*

Firstly, I wanna say that I never, ever want to have to wait that long for an update every again. However, I also wanna say that this chapter was so freaking perfect that I’m really glad we had to! 😄 (I actually even managed to make it worse for myself by holding off reading it until I was certain I could give every one of the 18k words the time and attention it deserved, and I’m really glad I did - it’s utterly glorious!! 🥹) Congratulations on your summer-long work coming to an outstanding conclusion 👏👏👏

I wanted to do that thing that people do where they share their favourite sections, but I’m not even kidding when I say that if I did that I’d literally be copy and pasting the entire thing. Every. single. paragraph is literal poetry, art and/or a story in and of itself. You are a linguistic maestro, and I now have a new life goal of producing even just one line that comes even close to painting a picture like yours do (that’s the stalkery bit - I’m aware that this probably sounds a bit creepy 😬😬😆)

Also: me, before reading: OMGthey’regoingtokissOMGthey’regoingtokissOMGthey’regoingtokiss 🥹😃🥹😃🥹😃

Me, after reading: Ican’tbelievetheykissedIcan’tbelievetheykissedIcan’tbelievetheykissed 😱😱😱🤯🤯🤯

I still can’t quite believe they actually kissed, even though we all knew it was gonna happen. I thought maybe at some point one of them (r, most likely) would pull back and it would end as a heavy, emotionally loaded cuddle, or some touching, but damn, they actually crossed that line!!! I can’t wait to see how this affects things in the outside world from now on.

And the longing... The yearning... Ugh, it’s all so perfect! I don’t usually warm to these parts of a story, and even though they’re often necessary and essential I just want it to be over, but with these two? I’m a total convert.

I’m also seriously wondering how many other people have noticed or suspected what’s going on. We haven’t seen them from anyone else’s perspective yet, and by the reaction of the band, and those bits with Bill, I’m now concerned that they haven’t actually been as subtle as they/we think they have been, and it’s all gonna hit the fan realllllll sooooon…

(Plus, is Bill gonna be a problem? I said: is Bill gonna be a problem ? *raises one eyebrow and drops a closed fist into an open palm*)

I LOVE the being good/bad for each other internal battles that they’ve both got going on, it’s exquisite and so beautifully balanced, and adds a really special layer to both characters as well as the overall story.

Oh, and the song choices?!?! Puh-leeeeeze, SO PERFECT!!! 🥹🥹🥹🤩🤩🤩🥵🥵🥵 And Eddie on stage, singing, without his guitar?? I’ve never seen that done before, and it was exquisite!! 🙏🔥🙏🔥🙏🔥

IDK if you do a tag list, but if you do I’d love to be on it (and for anything else Eddie you write 😄). My brain is vibrating with both anticipation for the next part, and anxiety at the even slight suggestion that I might miss something 😵‍💫

Finally, I VISCERALLY AND BODILY **NEED** EDDIE’S TEETH ON MY NECK RIGHT TF NOW, so thank you for that… 🫠🫠🫠

‘K I think I’m done, thanks, bye 😆

Holy shit thank you SO much 🥹🥹🥹

It’s heartwarming to see my hard work so appreciated. I feel like “linguistic maestro” might be one of the highest compliments I’ve received so far. I’m incredibly flattered.

Our forbidden lovebirds have a lot of internal and external conflict weighing against them, and I am excited to explore this new phase of their relationship next chapter. As you can sense from the very last scene, they are on different pages when it comes to their attitudes about it. One has a whole lot more to lose than the other, and a whole lot more baggage when it comes to trust and relationships.

Part of what makes this so thrilling imo IS how dangerous it is. You bring up a good point with his friends and outside witnesses like Bill. You’ll certainly be getting hints of how they interpreted that night and what they think about the two of them in general as the story progresses.

I admittedly need to spend some time sitting down with my outline, as I am discovering that I might want to spend just a liiiitle more time (like one more chapter) exploring this limbo phase than originally planned. It’s so juicy being here, finally. The next phase will be even juicier ;)

I had closed my taglist for some time but I recently decided to open it back up and will add you. Thank you, again, so very much. 💕

[rottenbrainstuff]

BG3 playthrough - Gortash

Mega spoilers below the cut

Finally, finally, I got to the audience with Gortash. I’m happy for the girlies that are in love, I love Jason Isaacs and I’m glad they’ve hired top knotch voice actors for the baddies in this game, but damn my friends, he does nothing for me. He looks like a moldy potato. As I said before, he looks like he smells like a hangover covered up with Axe spray. Sorry!

Despite that, he’s a very interesting character. I really liked the little group of NPCs outside fanboying about him inventing the Steel Watch - someone points out it was the Gondians who actually invented the Steel Watch, and Gortash just financed it, and someone else argues, no, it was Gortash who invented it - which he absolutely didn’t. Reminded me of Elon Musk and how everyone thought he was such a fucking genius, when all he did was purchase companies and pay other researchers. I loved that parallel.

So DAMN. This scene is very different for a dark urge. Man I felt so sorry for Karlach - she thinks she’s going to walk up and have this big face to face with her ex friend, and Gortash doesn’t even have words for her - instead he welcomes back his favourite assassin, and that’s me. I loved Karlach’s WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON HERE?? reaction, because same girl, same. Absolutely fucking WILD for a resisting durge to learn, you know, not only do they have these horrible murderous urges, not only do we have this nasty little butler man trying to force us to gruesomely kill people, not only did something horrible happen to us that wiped clean all our memories, NOT ONLY ARE WE A GODDAMNED BHAALSPAWN and leader of the goddamned bhaal cult, NOT ONLY ALL OF THIS, no, that wasn’t enough, oh no: now we learn we were also one of the original architects of the Absolute plot, removed only when Orin saw an opportunity to displace us. Damn, damn, damn. What a wild fucking ride. My poor tav.

The writing here and dialogue choices I found were a bit funky, rather like a bad DM that is trying too hard to nudge the player into the result they want, without really understanding what the player naturally wants to do. It was very odd how the dialogue kept offering me options to see if Gortash was telling the truth. Reassurances and reassurances. But you know what? My durge doesn’t CARE if Gortash is telling the truth. Lies, truth, it doesn’t matter, I am disgusted by what I just learned. I might agree not to pound Gortash into paste right this particular second, because Wyll’s dad as well as an entire audience and compliments of guards are right there, but I am NOT, NOT saying that I agree to any fucking alliance??? Well the Emperor says he’s telling the truth. Well I can read his body language to see if he’s telling the truth. Well I can use detect thoughts to see if he’s telling the truth. I DO NOT CARE IF HE IS TELLING THE TRUTH. In fact if he’s being sincere that almost makes the situation worse. It was so bizarre. I feel like maybe this dialogue was designed mostly with a non-durge in mind, who probably hates Gortash a lot less at this point? Maybe?

Anyways whatever, we got to a point where I agreed not to go straight to combat, but I still feel like I expressed my disgust in a mostly satisfactory way, so whatever. Whatever.

What happens AFTER that is also pretty fun. The three companions you just brought along to the coronation have now all just seen you are not only a Bhaalspawn, but you were one of the three who started all of this horrible shit in the first place!!! They all have very very interesting reactions (and as far as I am able to tell - the reaction is the same whether or not you chose to tell them you are a bhaalspawn ahead of time. My particular tav told no one but Astarion).

Karlach’s reaction hurt the most. She was furious, absolutely furious to find out I used to work with Gortash and that I used to lead the Bhaal cult. She says she isn’t sure she trusts I’m not still a bad guy, and she needs time - a lot of time - to think about it. Her reaction is TOTALLY VALID, it absolutely is, but it still stings, holy shit. I actually reloaded to see if there was anything I could do to make her less mad - but nothing helps. Augh. Karlach I am so sorry, I’m so sorry….

Gale was similarly angry. The reaction is valid but it hurts, it hurts…

Shadowheart’s reaction was bugged, at least for me. After the ceremony she had no reaction at all, just her regular conversation dialogue. That’s too bad, I was curious to see what she said.

Lae’zel has no additional dialogue, she will only say what she says if you tell her yourself that you’re a bhaalspawn: that it makes sense, because you are murderous and also annoying, lol.

Halsin is surprised, but not in a… “I had no idea you were actually a piece of shit this whole time” way, and more of a “shit I guess this just shows that we need to be careful and not take anything for granted” way.

Jaheria (who has no dialogue to tell her you’re a bhaalspawn) is concerned, but tells herself that doubting each other only benefits Gortash. She also asks for some time to think, but it’s less of a rude “I need time to think about how I’m ever going to look at your disgusting face again” and more of a “I need time to decide what is the best strategy to take now” way.

Wyll as always is a rock-solid friend. He’s mostly thinking about his father, understandable, and tells me again the story of the bhaalspawn who went on to become a hero.

And as before, as always, Astarion has the very best reaction, really shocked me actually, because I never thought about it like that. He starts off quite accusatory and I was prepared to have my heart broken - “You! You’re the one behind all this!” Ugh. It was hurting my heart. What will I do if Astarion is angry? Then he flips it into a joke as always, laughs and says he admits he’s impressed. But THEN… he THANKS me, he thanks me for being that evil bastard, because if it wasn’t for the Absolute plot and the nautiloid snatching people, he’d still be locked away in Cazador’s kennel. He THANKS me. I was so… surprised. I never really thought of it like that. Bhaal-cult-leader-tav frees Astarion. Extremely indirectly, but still. Man. My heart was hurting from Karlach’s reaction, everyone is freshly suspicious of me at worst and pitying at best, and why wouldn’t they be, I deserve every bit of it, and here’s Astarion, fucking THANKING me. Just. Wow. His support is so amazing, has been for this whole arc. I know people were grumpy that the dark urge writer wrote (honestly only a small amount of) extra content for Astarion interactions but didn’t have time to give the same attention for the other companions, but it’s not even the extra content that makes Astarion so amazing in a dark urge run. It’s his unique perspective and the place that he’s coming from and his surprising and unwavering support. It’s kind of like how Gale is uniquely supportive of a tav that becomes a mindflayer, it’s a sweet little special character piece. As things just keep get worse and worse for my resisting durge, I’m appreciating Astarion’s support more and more.

Back at camp, there’s the Orin kidnapping blah blah blah. The companion taken can be Lae;zel, Gale, or Halsin, but Lae’zel’s scenario is the only one that really makes any kind of sense at all…. What does Halsin losing control in the city or Gale wanting to blow up his orb have to do with anything? Lae’zel trying to convince you someone else in camp is the imposter and murder them makes much more sense. Afterwards, Gale says we should carefully consider Orin’s terms, no matter how distasteful it may be. Distasteful?..? What an odd comment. I’m 100% going to obliterate Gortash, was already making plans for that, nothing at all to do with Orin. “Distasteful” nothing, killing Gortash and confronting Orin was the plan all along. How odd.

Now I’m in the lower city, and it’s fucking shredding my poor shitty computer. We’ll see how this goes. Astarion went a bit nuts shopping for clothes at Carm’s Garms, and my tav is now wearing a ridiculous embroidered thing in black and blue and silver and looks like a mariachi. NPCs everywhere, as far as the eye can see, and even on the lowest graphics settings my poor mac is chugging along.

[holdinbacksecrets]

Oh in conjunction to the last ask by an anon can I request something like svt taking care of drunk s/o?

Looking forward to more of your works 🥰

thank you for saying that and requesting! cheol’s is suggestive 18+

seungcheol: is shocked to receive a call from your friend that the evening’s designated driver is trashed. probably laughs to himself as he grabs his keys and drives to the bar. takes a minute to coax you into his car because you’re having a hard time believing he’s your boyfriend. “are you sure? you’re incredibly attractive, and i’m not saying that because i don’t think i’m hot or something. i am. i’m so hot, but shit. have you seen me naked a lot? can i see you naked? maybe that would jog my wine mind.”

jeonghan: opens the front door of your apartment to be met by you and your exhausted looking friend. “she’s a bit…sad” but he knew what to expect. you’re consistently sad after drinking, and he offers soft coos as you waddle to the living room, asking him to lay down before covering his body with your own. ���do you feel better, sweetheart?” “mhmm” 

joshua: tries not to laugh at your permanent frown and flushed cheeks. your hands are fisted, constantly rubbing your eyes, clearly exhausted but far from ready to end the night. you finally let him take you home when you fall asleep on the table after screaming along to cher with all the energy you could muster

jun: sends texts throughout the night to make sure you’re alright. reminds you he can come at any point if that’s what you want. ‘i’m pine. wit mah girlz’ but he sits in the parking lot reading and drives you home, gets you ready for bed, stays the night, and makes your breakfast in the morning 

wonwoo: sits with you on the curb outside of the bar for 3 hours while you watch the moon

soonyoung: in the morning, you wake up to a hundred messages in the group chat, realizing someone dressed you up as a tiger because it was the only way he’d ever get you in that damn halloween costume. “please don’t be mad at me. you looked adorable! orange is your color” “…i’m going to the cafe around the corner to get something highly caffeinated. that costume better be gone by the time i’m back” 

jihoon: *laughter* but he carries you home (it’s only up the street, though. no biggie) 

seokmin: fully engaged in your senseless stories that sound a lot like your weirdest dreams. gets you ready for bed and giggles every time you start sucking any part of him your lips capture

mingyu: “babe, please let me put your socks back on. your feet are freezing.” instead, you cover your hands and cry when you can’t find your thumbs 

minghao: the poor guy thought it would be a good idea to take you to the convenience store for a hangover cure, but you’re embarrassing him. “ok, now everyone knows that i’m from seventeen. there are some plushies by the door. should you tell them too?” but he kisses your forehead as soon as your expression falls. “…i love you” “and he loves me! did you all hear?!” “i’m so sorry. this moment will plague me for life” 

seungkwan: he’s never seen you drink anything besides a single glass of red wine, but tonight you got your hands on whiskey and a 2000s playlist so… lol. finally convinces you it’s time to head home after mumbling your way through genie in a bottle. rolls down the window as soon as you’re in the car because he’s afraid you’ll vomit, and then he’ll vomit, but you don’t mind because the cool breeze feels like heaven on your hot skin. “dogs are so smart, boo. they’ve got life figured out. i could stay like this forever” 

hansol: looks so endearing helping you down the hallway to your front door, with your purse around his neck, and your right shoe held tightly in his grip. “honey, let’s not knock on everyone’s door, ok? it’s nearly 3am” 

chan: he keeps a little pouch in his glove compartment with all the necessities for “drunk you”. drunk you pouch includes the following: starbursts(only the yellow and pink ones), a picture of your cat wearing a hat, dried lavender, and the keys to your parents garden store because sometimes you like to stop by and play a song or two on their jukebox

[thefanficmonster]

Meeting the Fam

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Swearing

Genre: FLUFF, Humor, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: Following the rumors circulating about the supposed relationship between Corpse and the cover artist better known by their YouTube persona Y/Y/P, the streamer gang demands of Corpse to meet the girl who is the inspiration behind two of his most popular songs.

Requested by Anon. Hi darling! Thank you so much for your adorable request I’m so glad you gave me the honor to write it! I’m so sorry it’s taken me so long to complete and post it but here it is and I hope you enjoy the read if you come across it! Love, Vy ❤

“Ughhh, why’d you have to agree to this?! You didn’t feel the need to ask me first either!“ Complains Y/N as she paces back and forth in front of the couch Corpse is sat at.

“I couldn’t say no! You don’t know how angry Rae and Lily can get when they want to! I was walking a tightrope!“ Corpse defends himself, feeling like he’s shrinking with every word she speaks. Well it’s either that or just him mistaking the suppressed laughter for uneasiness. Yeah, seeing his.....um, friend so flustered and so angrily red in the face is probably the most amusing sight he’s ever seen. Of course though, he knows better than to laugh. He really doesn’t feel like meeting the Grim Reaper today.

“Fine, as a woman, I get how intimidating they can be, but that doesn’t say anything about the second part of my accusation!“ She softens ever so slightly but still refuses to allow Corpse a sigh of relief, a confirmation that he’s off the hook.

Yeah, well he isn’t and as it appears he won’t be for a while.

“I was put in a tight spot! It was either saying something or getting yelled at for the rest of the stream.“ He’s basically pleading with her at this point, knowing well enough that all his defenses are weak for offenses as strong as hers. They’ve been friends for the longest time so none of this should come as a surprise him.

But then again he’s been friends with Rae for quite some time now, as well as the other streamers in the gang and yet he never expected to have any of them notice the correlation between a girl he’s only ever mentioned twice in front of them and the lyrics to his songs E-girls are ruining my life and Cat girls are ruining my life. It’d take a real analyst to crack that code and as it turns out he’s been surrounded by analysts this whole time.

“You know Y/Y/P? Since when??? How??“

“Damn it, Lily, it was supposed to be a slowly luring trap not a tackle attack from the get-go.” Comments Toast with a snicker, being one of the only ones disinterested in the matter. Ok, maybe not completely disinterested but he’s definitely not as immersed as Leslie or Rae for example.

“If you can stay all cool and shit, I can’t!“ Lily argues, briefly and effectively shushing Toast before turning her attention back to a very stunned and stuttering Corpse, “Answer the question, Corpse!”

Now, while he certainly wasn’t expecting to get verbally tackled upon hopping into the Discord call Rae had invited him to. However, what he expected even less was to get a surprise questioning about Y/Y/P. He’s by no means stranger with anything that has to do with the friend who he’s had in his life for the longest time, but getting asked about her by people who are not supposed to know they know each other is baffling just as much as it’s startling.

“Um, yes, I know her. She’s a cover artist....I think....I think she’s made a cover of Miss You?“ The answer is a jumbled mess that sounds more like a question he’s asking himself than anyone else.

It’s not very surprising that none of the curious people in the VC are satisfied with that.

“Corpse, darling, you’re lurking in the comment section of every video of hers. You two really be having whole ass conversations for all the world to see! You follow each other on social media, you comment on each other’s posts, you tag each other in posts, need I go on?“ Rae jumps to aid Leslie’s offense.

“You literally have posted a picture of her on your IG story that you later deleted. A picture that you apparently took!“ In comes Lily with info of her own, leaving the man even more dumbfounded than before.

“Ok, what the fuck type of investigation is this?!“ Corpse finally strengthens his defenses, while also physically backing away from his computer screen, wheeling the desk chair back further and further, forcing the wire of the headset to remind him he can’t go any further, “Have you guys run out of every available hobby and have now settled for stalking me to fill your time?“

“There he goes dodging the question again.“ Says Leslie who’s trying her best to sound annoyed and stern but is on the edge of breaking with laughter. To be fair, everyone is. Ok, everyone minus Lily who’s dead-set on getting some answers out of her friend. So, when she prepares to go on a rant with the strong opening of: “Listen here, you....”, Corpse knows better than to let her go on.

And so he lets the cat out of the bag instead.

“Ok, ok, fine! I know Y/Y/N, she’s my friend.“ He finally admits, “We’ve been friends for quite some time and she’s actually the one who got me into music so the least I could do is dedicate a song or two to her.“

There’s a few moments of chatter amongst the interrogators, satisfied comments and victorious claims that Corpse willingly excludes himself from. His friendship with Y/N has always been so on the down low to the point where now it seems so odd and so out in the open he’s afraid it won’t feel the same ever again.

“Hey, Corpse?“ Rae’s beckon for his attention summons him back to the present and out of his thoughts.

“Hm?“ He responds with a questioning hum.

“So, you really think those songs were just a return favor to Y/Y/N for getting you into music?“ She proceeds to oh so casually ask, “And no, don’t answer right away, I want you to think about this. Do you really think that’s the case?“

Oh boy that threw him for a loop, a spiral he’s still slowly going downward in even now as Y/N paces before him. His been racking his brain for a proper reasoning that could make sense than the original return favor claim that has turned out to only be a theory and not a fact as he thought.

“Y-you can still back out of it, you know?“ He offers, seeing the mild terror in her eyes which makes him feel super protective and guilty that he’s the reason the fear’s there in the first place.

Y/N stops pacing suddenly, letting her hands fall from their spot on her hips to hang by her sides almost as a sign of defeat.

“Yeah, I can, but I don’t really want to.“ She sighs and finally turns to face him, her face now occupied by a softer expression than before, suggesting that she’s calmed down a bit, “If it matters to you, it matters to me. I know those people are your closest friends and-“

Corpse shakes his head quickly, cutting her off, “You are my closest friend so-“

“So it’s only right I meet your other closest friends.“ She smiles as she takes his hands in hers, “I’ll consider it as meeting the fam, you know?“, She even offers him a wink as confirmation that she no longer has the urge to take off running for the hills.

However, it seems as though she’s passed said urge down to him.

Or rather not - what’s causing it is the realization of what fueled those songs of his, and boy was it not platonic in the slightest.

@maat-the-prescriptive  @simonsbluee  @save-the-sky  @itsminniekat  @hacker-ghost  @bi-andready-tocry  @imtiredaffff  @jazzkaurtheglorious  @hereforbeebo  @fandomgirl17  @chrysanthykios  @maehemscorpyus  @loraleiix  @letsloveimagines  @annshit  @i-cant-choose-a-username-help  @enigmaticmaze  @divine-artemis  @waterlilypat  @idontknowwhatthisisfam  @evi-ka  @classyandfabulous00  @redperson58  @lilysdaydreams @solowheein  @mythicalamphitrite  @axen-gers  @luckygirl144  @nj01  @buddyemily   @the-albino-lioness  @stardream14  @gdhdkfnn  @nomadicgypsyy  @preciousskye  @fluffysuicideunicornsworld  @o-kaelin  @manacharlotte  @awkward-youtube-trash  @lolalee24  @bonky-beerns  @meme-lord-and-savior-sebastian  @strawbrinkofdeath  @teenloves  @tams0527  @browneyespinkhair  @starstruckllamapuppy  @daisychains012  @y0ulooked  @tinytacosuitcaseflap @supernatural-is-my-only-life  @jula-pauline  @melodykitty  @just-that-bi-girl  @crazybutconfidentaf  @lowellshade @alphakees  @bellero  @weallneednamjesus  @starryhanji  @boiled-onionrings  @husherstan  @fockingwhore  @melaningoddessthings  @prettypastelpetals  @haleypearce  @godwhyamiawkward  @y-napotat  @daisychainyoonmin  @little-miss-rebel3  @free-wheelin-bi-sexual  @redmoon261 @darkacademic2  @wiseflamingoqueen  @into-the-end  @namikhai-i  @nastiablr  @thelittleplantlover  @mirktuan  @dont-hyuck @jjk-bunny  @vintagegothlover  @easygoingtheatre  @itsrandombooklover  @miiaivi  @emmybaybee  @befourgolden  @jjk-is-my-shit  @eternalteaaars  @spacebadgerx  @princesslunalight  @acequinn14  @samm48  @misselsbells06 @simp-lykawa  @fo-love  @marishimomura-blog  @therealglenncoco  @cinnamonbun332  @killtherandomness  @sanshinexxxsan  @fee-btheweeb  @press-lay  @cathleenpotgieter16  @jazzydoesstuff  @moonlxghtbay  @forestrain2000  @hyunjinhugs  @blood-of-fandoms  @lovellylies  @ukiyolixx  @simpforhpcharacters  @chrisdylan17  @parkerjisung  @pedernille  @theodonyous  @wineandionysus  @malfoystilinskii05  @morbid-x  @coryisagee  @jessewa26  @scoobydooluver97 @mindintheskies365  @raeanneinwonderland  @indecisive-empanada  @gluttonypalace  @loriane2503  @btsiguess-kpop  @khaoticbunny  @lucidlycactus  @smiithys  @rottenroyalebooks  @kpopgirlbtssvt  @fangirl-tc27  @fr0z3n-1  @notmesimpingfortechno  @shotarosleftpinky  @kunoi-chan  @idk-whats-wrong-with-me  @yikeroonie  @goldenstarofthunderclan  @poetry-and-tea  @ama-do-writing-stuff  @wishbonewolf  @emeraldxhope  @t0xick1tty  @kusuinko  @speakyourselfloveyourself  @sophia902103  @lo-manburg  @classsykittykat  @dmgama  @depressedpuppythatneedscoffee  @btsiguess-kpop  @akaashi-baby  @gun-jong-simp  @geschichtenfee  @yerapotato-wp  @browneyedgirl365  @thysagclub  @sparklycloudnight  @helloatomicshadow  @queentorresstuff @vtte @val-gal  @lucy-bunny17  @aaliyahh0  @katluckybear  @boyleanti  @straybids  @franchesca-791  @cosmicstorm19  @averyisbackinthetrashcan  @aomi-nabi  @xlanawriter  @allensimpsforcorpse  @sunnyrae-cessh  @ladykxxx08  @meowiemari  @renupf  @booklover76  @sra-verissimo  @beatrhizn  @blueberrystigma  @beatrhizn  @chicken-taco-burrito  @scorpio-echo  @nyctophiliiiiaaa  @squirreljoe  @azra-x  @ace-of-spaids2

[thewertsearch]

Asks Compilation 11/07

[ I have a list of fanworks to send after the end of Hivebent but feel free to send more :D - Cat ]

That’ll be a fun diversion! Yeah, definitely send them on!

Honestly, the fucked up Fetch Moduses was a big part of what got me hooked initially. Programming trivia used as an in-universe mechanic? I mean, come on. 

Good idea. My anime-addled brain initially pronounced Karkat as Kakorot...

I watched the first two(?) seasons in a single day when I was a student. I remember thinking the weapons were cool as shit, but I clearly wasn’t hooked enough to continue. 

I mean, tell me this doesn’t look like an alchemy weapon.

You know, I’ve never actually seen Homestar Runner? I think I confused it with Homestuck a lot before I started reading the latter.

Honestly! I’ve come to accept that that’s just how they communicate. 

Maybe they’ll start to relax when they’ve been out of Alternia for a while, but I’m not holding my breath.  

Oh, they’re good. Guns & Roses is a fucking excellent RoseJade ship name. 

You have my blessing to use the LeaderShip, but damn.... Communism is pretty amazing. 

Yeah, I think you’re probably right. I don’t think the ‘Grief = Crabdad is doomed’ thing was intentional, but damn is it good. 

Ok, that makes a lot more sense. ‘Freak of nature’ usually denotes an abnormal or unnatural life form, so I wonder if that implies the Lusi were engineered by Alternia, who wanted a biotech nanny monster to automatically raise their little soldiers.

And I’m not the only one wondering this, it seems! 

Honestly, the entire troll life cycle reeks of bioengineering, so I think this is actually pretty likely. The Mother Grub ensures that as many trolls are born as possible, the Trials ensure these trolls are as brutal as possible, and the Lusus ensures that trolls don’t need to waste time raising children. 

@iris-in-the-dark-world asked: i just realized that jade's tower looks like one of the moon towers from the frog temple [snipped for spoilers - C ] 

Yup. We already know her house is a copy of a Prospitian Dream Building, and this is another example of Grandpa’s house following the ‘Sburban architectural style’.

It hasn’t been explained yet, but I guess the default explanation is that Grandpa built it this way on purpose. Who knows why. 

[ yeah, friendsim isn’t canon but this is implied there xD - Cat ] 

Space empires have no need for flying machines that can’t destroy the enemy’s planets!

‘They’re a military state’ explains it all, really. 

Sburb can hit any civilization, including ones which would be the villains of a sci-fi movie.

They’re awfully amorphous, aren’t they? Maybe that’s her real psychic power. 

I’m just going to assume the shape we see in her main sprite is the canon one.

This was the real Mistake.

Noted - I was probably just going to keep doing what I was doing - reading the full comic while omitting quotes with slurs. It’s not like I need to include them to analyze the comic, or anything.

Does the fact that I’m considering making theme music for my ‘sona change anything? 👀

Probably not any time soon - I do not understand FL Studio - but maybe eventually. Gotta give her the full set of Homestuck patterns!

One thing I’m not is the Blogger of Consistency. Rest assured, I’ll always come back when the hyperfocus returns time is right. 

Thank you! My blog is a safe space for lurkers of all kinds. I’ve certainly done my fair share of lurking.

Gamzee is the first pattern breaker of the trolls. Gamzee x Jade confirmed??

Haha, but no, these patterns are really more like guidelines these days. Terezi already doesn’t have a lusus, and TA quit his own introduction page in a huff. We can’t be 100% sure that any of these will hold anymore. 

That’s the closest thing to a ‘canon’ pronunciation of Terezi’s name as we’re going to get - although, really, it’s up to the reader. 

If any class would just have things given to them, it would be the Heir. John is much more likely to react to things than be pro-active, and I think the fact that he has a class that evokes just being given things is deliberate. 

This is why I don’t think GA is Vriska. She just doesn’t have that X-factor.

Literally how. HOW did Homestuck characters get into a Namco game.

Is it a fangame? This is so funny to me for some reason, it feels like two streams that should never ever cross, but I suppose Toby Fox has done some music for Nintendo before...

Yeah, the tumblr mobile app is a mess. I’ve tried to make liveblog posts on it before, but it’s much too fiddly, and it completely breaks my workflow. The mobile browser works fine - it actually respects the custom HTML on my theme - but I doubt the app is even using HTML. 

The green background fixes the hyperlink contrast issues - and as a bonus, I actually really like it. I’m keeping it. 

[jimmymcgools]

Hi Jimmy, I'm the person who asked you "How did you become the best writer on the whole damn internet????" earlier, and while I did mean it as a compliment, I genuinely want to know how you became such an amazing writer. School? Work? Reading good books? Just a whole bunch of practice? Something else? Whatever you're doing, it's working!

oh anon, i'm so sorry! i'm happy to answer this seriously. my meme response was partially true -- i do care too much, so this answer might be a little insufferable, but i do really love talking about writing.

(and feel free to stop reading this when you get bored)

i'm still very much working on becoming a better writer myself, so this is more of a "here's the advice i try to follow" answer, if that makes sense.

there's a quote: read like dracula, write like frankenstein. suck all the good shit out of what you read and then stitch it together into your own monster.

if i had to pick, that's the biggest thing that's helped me with my writing. reading stuff i love and paying attention to what i love about it, then trying to replicate that. like maybe it's just a really cool word, or a really vivid adjective.

or did that description of that person really stick in my mind? i'll underline it and try to remember how the author did that. i'll never write anything i love as much as ray bradbury's "She had a very thin face like the dial of a small clock seen faintly in a dark room", but i can remember the idea of describing someone using a surprising simile.

(and then much later i read tolstoy and he described someone as "as narrow as a dining room clock", i was like oh hey, maybe mr. bradbury was reading like dracula, too)

paul mccartney tells a story about how he was playing/singing like ray charles when he wrote "long and winding road". the song doesn't really sound anything like a ray charles song in the end, but paul aped someone's style and it unlocked things creatively.

when i read over my writing, i can see the jigsaw pieces of inspiration. in my new fic, "There’s a line of dead pixels along the bottom. They’ve been dead for months." is me doing vonnegut. so it goes.

"And did she know his uncle’s company sells golf clubs that use the same titanium as the space shuttles? That’s why they’re worth so much." is something i started trying to do because of jane austen. the fancy phrase is "free indirect speech", but the hope is that you know these are glenn's words, not kim's, even though they're in the narration from kim's POV.

(but the last sentence there is also just a quote from the 1998 classic 'you've got mail'.)

(i really do care too much about all this!!)

i think this frankenstein work is more rewarding than getting bogged down by writing guides on the internet. common writing advice would probably tell mr. bradbury to not use "very" and to drop the adverb from "seen faintly" -- and maybe some people don't like that sentence, but i do. i love it.

imo it’s helpful to learn rules and hear what the popular advice is, but it’s less helpful if that advice makes writing boring and soulless for you. experiment with shit! if your favorite author does something, see how it feels to do it, too!

i also did you a kindness and didn't give bradbury's whole quote before. let's have it now:

She had a very thin face like the dial of a small clock seen faintly in a dark room in the middle of a night when you waken to see the time and see the clock telling you the hour and the minute and the second, with a white silence and a glowing, all certainty and knowing what it has to tell of the night passing swiftly on toward further darknesses but moving also toward a new sun.

fucking hell, ray.

the dracula/frankenstein process can be even bigger though. suck good ideas from wherever you can. visual artists use references, writers can, too! i make fun of myself for how much i research things, but the truth is it makes the writing easier. it's easier to describe a place when you have a visual reference for it.

maybe a photo of a house at dusk with the lights on makes you feel a certain way? i try to channel the feeling into my scene, picking what parts of that image might be creating the mood i'm feeling.

i also read things out loud. i think rhythm is more important in writing than we sometimes give it credit for. things feel good if they flow together well.

and then like you say, i practice. it absolutely helps. i was just as strongly opinionated about things a couple of years ago, but i think i’m a better writer now, and so much of it is just that i’ve... written more. hopefully i’ll be even better two years from now.

and i hope this was a more interesting answer than a screenshot from parks and rec! it was a treat to talk about writing, i really do love it.

[alygatorwrites]

can I request a lil something? during the end of the manga or after the timeskip if you haven't read it yet, reiner still has feelings for historia and reader has one-sided feelings for him.

pieck gives reiner a small hint, saying he's wasting time while there's someone close to him that cares for him and points to you. he doesn't understand at first and maybe is conflicted about his feelings for you because of historia. reader is cool about it as she doesn't expect him to reciprocate her feelings.

a rollercoaster of emotions later, maybe there is a happy ending tho? i am curious to see what you can come up with 😭😭 i have dreaming of this scenario before bed and i can't help but get jealous of his crush on historia abjdsndks maybe you can help reiner reciprocate reader-chan's feelings or not

thank u so much aly 💖🥺

reciprocation

pairing: reiner braun x reader

a/n: OMG yesss! honestly, i was kinda annoyed at how reiner still had a crush on historia. i know that isayama wanted to show how everything went back to normal, but i was hoping that reiner would have a bigger role in the allied nations instead of being "dumbed down" to having an obsession with her. MAYBE THATS JUST THE JEALOUSY SPEAKING LMAO 😭 i was hoping this would be longer, although school has been killing me so im really sorry!! i hope its okay 💗💕 thank you honey!

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as reiner is handed historia’s letter, you fold your hands on the table and watch him without a word. when he reads the lines and smells the parchment - jean saying something snarky afterward - you say nothing.

you want reiner to be happy: you want to see him at ease like this more, face soft as the leaf of the page flits from his pinched fingers.

and so you let the man speak about historia like she’s a damn goddess, gushing over her handwriting, and keep your goddamn mouth shut. ignore your jealousy. your feelings.

the truth is, you’re in love with reiner.

you can’t even remember how it happened, but you can remember the first time you looked into those hazel eyes, and how you knew that they were going to stick with you for eternity.

you’ve come to accept his crush on the queen, though. reciprocation was never an option in your mind.

when jean begins to chew reiner out for lusting after a married woman, and reiner says something about jean being a horse, pieck’s gaze lands on you. “you’re rather quiet,” she says softly, resting her head on her palm.

you shrug, turning away from her. “i’m just tired.”

pieck catches your chin between her lithe fingers, and turns you to face her with a tiny smile. the young woman is very perceptive, and you’ve known her long enough. 

that’s when you notice the twinkle in her eye. she’s planning something.

pieck releases your jaw then, sitting up in her chair. “you’re wasting your time, reiner,” she says suddenly. “there’s already someone you know who cares for you.”

you pretend to not hear pieck - and definitely pretend you don’t see her faintly point at you through your peripheral. the movement of her fingers is barely there, but you catch it.

damn you, pieck.

the way you’re now pinned underneath armin, jean, connie, and reiner’s stares makes your stomach tie itself into knots with bubbling reluctance. shit, this is awkward. you want to run away.

still, you peer over to study reiner’s reaction. he looks confused at first, the contours of his face unreadable. you swear you see connie facepalm at the man’s cluelessness.

then reiner’s expression slowly changes: his eyes widen in awe, lips parting slightly, and brows knitting together. he seems genuinely surprised - and conflicted.

conflicted? why?

there’s no time to explain yourself though, because the door creaks open and annie steps in. her words fall on your deaf ears, and when everyone stands up to leave, you’re the first one out of the room. work beckons you as always.

two days pass.

you’ve been busy filling out tons of paperwork pertaining to the allied nations, so when you’re finally given a day off, you take it with open arms. 

freedom at last.

you lean against a bench outside of headquarters, enjoying the salty breeze that flutters along your skin. it’s dusk, the sky covered in a gradient of neon colors as the sun dips below the horizon.

you haven’t seen reiner since that day in the conference room. you wonder how he’s doing, what he’s thinking, how he’s holding up -

“hey.”

speak of the devil. you glance over your shoulder toward the voice, low and familiar.

reiner approaches you, clad in his uniform: the suit hugs his large frame perfectly, showing every flex of his muscles, and his blonde hair is neatly parted. the black tie looped around his neck just pulls it all together. it has you weak at the knees every. single. time.

“hey,” you answer, giving reiner a smile as he stops beside you.

and that’s when your heart lurches at the sight of him.

the sunset highlights reiner’s profile in gold, a heavenly shine that settles upon his blonde lashes and the flawless slope of his nose. the flecks in his irises sparkle – a beautiful mixture of soft browns and muted greens. the only thing you can do right now is admire the man. 

his words are what breaks you out of your daydream.

“work has been crazy lately, huh?” reiner says, focused on the candy-floss clouds and their fluffy shapes.

“well - yeah, pretty much. i don’t want to look at a pen or a piece of paper ever again.”

“that bad?”

“you have no idea. i almost regret marley and paradis reconciling.”

reiner chuckles gently at the joke, but it’s strained. his forehead remains creased, and he’s not really smiling. the emotion there is more … doubtful. it’s like he’s having some sort of inner conflict.

hopefully reiner’s not acting cautious because of the other day. you know he doesn’t return your feelings, and that’s totally okay. you’re happy enough being with him like this. “i’m not mad or anything, y’know.”

reiner stiffens at that. there’s a white flash of teeth when he chews on his lower lip. “i know.”

“good,” you hum, breathing out a sigh of relief. your core twists with envy when you force a grin. bite it back. tease him like always. “so about historia … ”

reiner’s eyes go wide almost comically, and you hear the breath in his lungs leave his firm chest in one exhale. there’s a light blush staining his cheeks now. it’s funny; he’s so goddamn big, yet he’s such a teddy bear.

“y-yeah,” reiner mutters. you observe the way his brows pinch together as he awkwardly shifts in place. it takes a while before the man composes himself again, which is strange.

is he scared or something? what the hell?

“pieck,” reiner hesitates for a moment. the golden strands of his hair ruffle in the wind and he appears ... well, lost. “was she being serious?”

the question is a shocker - jeez, he could have at least let you prepare yourself. a firm ‘no’ almost slips out, but you’ve never been much of a liar. not to reiner, anyway. crossing your arms against your chest, you inhale sharply and nod. avoid staring at him face-to-face. “yep.”

“ … why me?”

reiner says the words with a mixture of spite and anguish, a casual and rumbling voice. you immediately turn your head, frowning. “what?”

“i’ve done so many horrible things.” reiner exhales heavily and stares down at his hands; perhaps he’s imagining all the blood they’ve been stained with. “i betrayed everyone. i killed innocent people - all because i was selfish.”

it’s no surprise that reiner is broken after everything he’s been through, but it pains you to know that he continues to suffer in silence. whatever war is raging inside his ribcage tears him apart piece by piece, and you wish you could carry the burden. 

there’s probably nothing you can say to convince reiner that he was just a kid, a victim of circumstance. there’s nothing that can persuade him to see himself the way you do.

so you decide to tell reiner why you love him. 

you explain the amount of admiration you hold for him. tell him that you love the way he just wants to be someone his comrades can lean on, like a big brother. tell him that you think he’s the most gorgeous person you’ve ever seen and how you think he deserves the world.

the way you spill your guts out snaps every nerve in your body. you don’t say everything you want to – but you tell him enough. a dark flush spreading across your face, you find the courage to look at him.

the world seems to stop on its axis when you find reiner staring right on back. the intensity of his eyes is stunning; they’re lit up with astonishment and affection.

god, the affection. you see it clear as day. maybe one of the greatest regrets in his life is how he forced himself to see you only as a friend.

that’s when he reaches out to you.

reiner retracts his hand twice, unsure, before slowly brushing his fingertips against yours. the touch is so feather-light that you almost can’t feel it. it’s a test - he’s waiting to see if you pull away. you can’t even move if you wanted to, because his fond gaze keeps you rooted to the spot before him. 

when you don’t recoil, reiner finally moves to gently hold your hand; his palm is so much bigger than yours, and your fingers slot together perfectly, like a jigsaw puzzle’s final piece. 

heart thrumming like a hummingbird has been stuffed into your chest, you’re almost at a loss for words and come to a realization.

this utterly amazing man likes you. always has. 

but reiner shoved away the feelings for one simple reason; you deserved ‘better.’ focusing on the old crush he had on historia was a distraction - an attempt to convince himself to stop thinking about you.

because looking at you everyday and not being able to act upon his feelings was too painful.

“is this okay?” reiner asks lowly. there’s a slight pinkness to his cheeks, the color of a selfless love.

by some miracle, you manage to nod dumbly. “yeah, of course. it’s fine.” it’s amazing is what you actually want to say.  

reiner squeezes your hand at the reassurance, a sigh escaping from his throat. “i really—”

you wait for him to finish, but he doesn’t. reiner just searches your profile for signs of discomfort, and then untwines your hands to bravely swipe a thumb along the length of your cheekbone. 

there’s no time to speak because he’s already leaning down.  

the sensation of reiner’s lips pressing against yours lights your skin ablaze; you can feel the curling flames of passion sear your soul, made even more intense by the warmth of the sunlight on your back.

it’s natural, it’s tender, it’s warm.

reiner’s breath rattles into your mouth when you rest both palms against his solid chest and deepen the kiss. the musky smell of his aftershave and cologne envelops you completely, and fuck, it’s so good. your arms wrap around him, fingers passing over the sharp slopes of his shoulder blades.

as much as you wish the kiss could go on endlessly, there are people gathering outside. avoiding any unwanted attention from nosy strangers is very much appreciated.

you pull away to nuzzle your nose into reiner, and he rests his chin on your shoulder, protective arms moving to loop around your waist. it’s such an intimate caress that it sparks your brain into overdrive.

as the rushing sound of the breeze comes back to your ears through the quiet, you tuck the kiss away to be remembered forever. that’s all there is to it. being close to reiner like this - swaying together like wildflowers in the wind - is more important than anything else.

“i like you,” reiner murmurs.

the suddenness of it makes you laugh, and you can feel the upward quirk of reiner’s lips - a whisper of a peaceful smile and a sweet, sweet promise.

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 313: Deku VS Lady Nagant

Previously on BnHA: Hawks’s super-hot badass murder senpai Lady Nagant showed up to fire a cupid’s arrow into my heart, and a bunch of literal bullets into my son. Deku was all “oh shit it’s Hawks’s super-hot badass murder senpai, what do I do, let me think back to Hawks’s advice for a sec.” Flashback!Hawks was all “anyway Deku so if my super-hot badass murder senpai ever shows up you’re basically screwed so you’d better abscond the fuck out of there.” Present!Deku was all “lol idek why I flashed back to that conversation since I’m just going to do the exact opposite of what Hawks said” and charged directly toward Nagant because WHY NOT. Overhaul was all “waah I need to get back to my boss who I put in a coma out of love” and Nagant was all “jesus christ why did I even bring you here” and had a flashback to AFO who was all “ILU NAGANT IMMA GIVE YOU AN EXTRA QUIRK SO PLEASE CAPTURE DEKU FOR ME PLEASE AND THANKS” and yeah. Shit is all over the place right now and I love it.

Today on BnHA: All Might gets attacked by a pair of discount assassins and is all “Call an ambulance! ...BUT NOT FOR ME” and it’s really badass but also I really wish he would stop tempting fate like this. Lady Nagant is all “[casually flies around town shooting shit]” and I’d be lying if I said I wouldn’t read an entire chapter of just that. Deku is all, “[gets shot (≥_<)]” and releases a giant Smokescreen which prompts En to show up. En is all, “( •᷄⌓•᷅ ) (⌣̀ Δ⌣́) ( •̀_•́ )σ (¬､¬) (눈_눈)” which I consider to be a high point of both the chapter and of my life. The chapter ends with Deku using the Third’s quirk to launch a bunch of random objects at Nagant so that he can jump up and grab her arm all sneaky-like, and I’m sure this is going to prompt another week’s worth of discourse that I don’t care about at all, but fuck it, I’m having a good time.

OH WE’RE CUTTING BACK TO ALL MIGHT WELL THAT’S NICE I GUESS. CONGRATS ON NOT BEING DEAD

you named your car??

you named it Hercules??

I love you so much??

please marry me you giant fucking dork???

lmao speaking of huge fucking dorks

who the fuck are you clowns. la dee da we’re gonna murder All Might with our synchronized spear attack!! I mean... they’re clearly trying their best... maybe I should just be nice and politely hype them up like All Might is so clearly trying to do

like okay, but we all agree that this is actually the least intimidating attack any of us has ever seen, right?? these guys zipped up their hoodies all serious-like and are trying to attack All Might and Hercules with their Walmart tiki torches, but just, no?? right?? like the only way this could possibly be effective is if they were trying to kill All Might with secondhand embarrassment

“those are assassins” this is a VERY generous assessment, All Might

OH MY GOD THE TIKI TORCHES ACTUALLY KILLED THE FUCK OUT OF HERCULES

[slaps roof of car] this baby can fit so many weaponized festive backyard lighting solutions in it

and yet, even after watching this with my own two eyes, I still can’t take these dudes seriously. idek what it is. anyways r.i.p. Hercules, I loved you a lot but I guess you weren’t actually a very good armored car were you

omg they didn’t know it was All Might??

okay 1) for a moment there I was like “oh hey maybe they’re not so bad after all” but then a moment later it was like “ah nope, they are.” like, that was an interesting .06 second emotional journey there. anyways 2) All Might you have my permission to kick their asses for this disrespect, and 3) anyone else all of a sudden getting “wouldn’t this be an interesting time for Stain to suddenly show up” vibes?? no?? just me???

(ETA: hmm tbh I’ve still got those vibes and they haven’t gone away lol. Stain?? you out there buddy?? do you want to be cool for just once in your life. ball’s in your court pal.)

OH SNAP ALL MIGHT ARE YOU REALLY GONNA DO IT ARE YOU GONNA KICK THEIR ASSES

PROTECTIVE DAD MODE ACTIVATED?? BECAUSE YOU KNOW I’M HERE FOR THAT SHIT, SO YEAH, FEEL FREE

omg he’s shouting at them about how much Deku has suffered lmao and they’re just like falling over from being scolded

so they have absolutely no idea what he’s talking about though, right? “SIR THIS IS A WENDY’S” well whatever, you killed his pet car so he’s in a bad mood now

OH MY GOD

LIKE, JUST SO WE’RE ALL CLEAR, THESE FOUR PAGES SO FAR HAVE MADE ALMOST ZERO SENSE. LIKE MAYBE 2% SENSE TOPS. BUT ASK ME IF I CARE. GO AHEAD AND ASK. I SAID GO AHEAD, IT’S OKAY. ...NO I DON’T CARE AT ALL THANK YOU FOR ASKING

(ETA: also, the more I look at this panel, the more I’m just like, why the hell would you phrase it like that though, sob. way to doubly tempt fate?? are you trying to give Horikoshi a challenge??)

and now back to Deku who is randomly bouncing around the city and narrating it to himself just in case he was confused about why he was doing this

who are you talking to Deku. but thanks we appreciate it

man you gotta love that overconfidence. the smartest guy in the world warned you away from this lady, so SURE, LET’S RUN RIGHT UP TO HER. “I APPRECIATE YOUR INPUT, FLASHBACK!HAWKS, BUT I’LL TAKE IT FROM HERE” well okay then!!

I think it would be funny if RHA.com put little Buzzfeed-style polls in between the chapter pages so they could survey people at random intervals as they read their way through the chapter. like, you finish this page and then there’s a little poll there asking “do you think Deku’s plan of catching up to Lady Nagant and finding out where Shigaraki is will work?”, and you click “no” just like everyone else and then nod as the results show that 97% of your fellow readers also picked “no”, and you chuckle to yourself wondering how many of the 3% accidentally clicked on the wrong option by mistake, and then you keep on reading

ANYWAY, SO

HOW’S THAT PLAN WORKING OUT FOR YOU SO FAR DEKU. nice kick, though!!

omggggggg

ouch

update: Deku’s plan not really working out. sources tell me my boy has been fucking shot. this is an ongoing story and we will keep you posted with the latest developments as they come in

wait what

feel free to explain to the rest of us what all of this “UNLESS...” and “THAT POSSIBILITY...” shit means anytime, Deku

oh lol did he realize she could fly??

BREAKING NEWS UPDATE, CNN’s John King reports that Deku is still fucked. eyewitness reports now coming in that Nagant is doing no-look shots and basically not even giving a fuck. sources described her mannerisms and expression as “sexy, but in like an effortless sort of way.” we will continue to bring you the latest

so now there’s basically an entire page of Deku being all “ah fuck so she’s basically closing in and she could already hit me with impossible accuracy even from Far Away, so if that’s the case then her being Up Close is probably going to be even worse!” making good use of that Big Hero Brain there, Deku

so now what, you’re doing some kind of spiraling kick thing?? how is that going to help

oh lol he’s using Smokescreen to create some cover. aww, good for you Deku you named one of your Smokescreen attacks

OH NO LADY DON’T TELL ME AFO DIDN’T EVEN FILL YOU IN ON THE BASICS

seriously, AFO?? you basically told her what Deku’s exact strategy was going to be but then couldn’t be assed to drop that little, small, barely notable piece of knowledge that Deku is rocking multiple quirks?? is it supposed to be a secret or something?? you dropped the ball here man

damn this is getting intense now

(ETA: the way En is poking Deku’s head in that first panel is fucking sending me, I love this guy so much omg.)

well then what are you planning, Deku?? I’m actually really curious!! I am genuinely starting to be invested in this fight scene not only in the “wanting to see who wins and how that impacts the plot” sense, but also in the “wanting to see how it happens because the choreography and strategy is actually pretty cool” sense, which honestly hasn’t happened for quite a while now! this is fun

anyway so what’s up Deku, are you going to use another quirk?? I’ve been speculating that he hasn’t actually unlocked the last two yet (since Two and Three didn’t exactly seem convinced when we last saw them), but maybe I’m about to be proven wrong

(ETA: well he clearly has Three’s obviously, but Two’s is still MIA, and that’s the one I am of course the most curious about. that’s the one we’re all curious about, let’s be real.)

OH SNAP???

AHHHH I’M HYPED LOL. ANOTHER SHINY NEW QUIRK LOL SHOULD I PUT UP THE USUAL DISCOURSE DISCLAIMER

(ETA: so yeah, after thinking on it, I’m not gonna say “please no Deku discourse on my blog” this week, but I probably will ignore any discourse that does come my way though, just because I don’t have much interest in getting involved in what would probably be a pretty repetitive discussion. like, I can just sum up my opinions (which is what they are) here instead. in fact here they are lol:

1) I like the SIXQUIRKS and I like seeing Deku be a badass.

2) I also don’t think Deku is too OP. more like he’s exactly as OP as he needs to be at the moment, given that we’re approaching the end of the series. I expect the other kids will also be pretty damn OP when we see them fight again. we’re just at that point now where they’re all badasses (as well they should be; they’ve grown a lot and they deserve it). it’s just that Deku’s the one we’re getting to see right now.

3) of course I miss Kacchan and the others, but for me this vibes much closer to the MVA arc where even though I missed them, I was still having a blast (as opposed to the dark days of the Basement arc where I was pretty much losing it lol). like, even though Kacchan’s my favorite, I still love Deku a lot and this arc has been amazing for him getting to shine on his own (for like the first time, really).

4) y’all know I love the OFA plot and I’ve never been shy about that lol. I like all of the Vestiges a lot. Banjou and his over the top personality; En and his “guy you thought would be serious and :| all the time but is actually hyper-animated and ALL OVER THE PLACE” energy; Shiro who actually is a :| sort of guy lol; Three who I still expect will be fleshed out in a more detailed flashback at some point; and of course Two, who, well. you know what I think about him lol. Bakuverse is still on the table and I’m still hyped. I don’t think it’s a coincidence that we still have yet to see Two actually talk to Deku (as opposed to talking to the other Vestiges while Deku is distracted). did he lend him his power yet?? or is he still holding out?? either way it’s definitely going to be a Big Thing when it finally happens and I can’t wait to see it.

5) Lady Nagant is Everything and just because Deku grabbed her arm doesn’t mean the fight is over yet lol. Overhaul hasn’t come into play yet either. not to mention that even if the fight is over, the “where do we go from here” part still has me excited either way. her connection to Hawks and the HPSC is very intriguing and we’ve barely touched on that as of yet; she definitely has more of a role to play in this.

6) last but not least, I feel like every week the discussion is all about how much focus Deku’s getting, and how OP he is or isn’t, and OFA this and OFA that, but meanwhile I’m actually so invested in the character development here though?? the way Deku has distanced himself from everyone (except for the Vestiges, because of course they’re already dead so it’s not like they can die again lol)?? the way he’s pushing himself far too hard and we can see the shadows in and under his eyes, and the fact that he never smiles, and even All Might has remarked on how he isn’t taking care of himself at all?? the fact that he’s so single-mindedly obsessed with focused on stopping AFO?? the fact that he’s still the same sweet old Deku despite everything and was so kind to that fox lady with the umbrella, but there was also something so sad about that scene because it felt like a reminder of the type of hero that he wants to be, but that he’s not allowed to be right now?? because the stakes are too high and the world is falling apart?? and he feels like he’s the only one who can do something about it?? and that he has to be?? and that he is putting so much pressure on himself right now, and it’s absolutely too much pressure for any one person to bear, and I feel like no one is fucking talking about this lol goddammit.

anyway so yeah. I have feels about this, and every week that slow-burn angst is getting more and more intense behind the scenes, and I feel like it’s all going to hit a breaking point eventually. sooner rather than later. it really feels like a mirror of Katsuki’s post-Kamino arc. where all that angst was just churning below the surface for like twenty chapters and then it finally was like “okay it’s time” and it all came bursting out and we got the best five chapters of the fucking series (in my admittedly biased estimation lol).

basically, I know that most of fandom is billing this as either the “villain hunt” arc or the “solo Deku SIXQUIRKS fighting arc” or whatever. but for me, it’s always been and still is the Deku Angst arc lol. the cool fights are a sexy bonus (the worldbuilding less so because even though it’s interesting to see society at such a low point, it’s also very depressing and gets old pretty fast), but for me the thing that’s really keeping me engaged chapter after chapter is seeing Deku like we’ve never seen him before. seeing him all quiet and withdrawn and brooding and focused on AFO, AFO, AFO, and seeing that “he just doesn’t take himself into account” mentality taken to extremes. I am invested in that. I’m soaking up that angst each and every week, and I’m invested in seeing what comes of it. it’s a big picture thing. week to week this arc might just seem like a bunch of villain fight scenes, sure. but Deku’s emotional journey is the thread that’s going to carry this arc through from beginning to end, and for that I’m willing to be patient.

anyway that turned into a BIG OL’ RANT there but yeah! so those are my thoughts on the disk horse as it currently stands. and like I said, I’m open to discussion, but tbh I will probably just wind up repeating these same talking points endlessly so just a fair warning lol.)

anyway so Three says Deku has yet to use his quirk at ALL but now he’s trying to combine it with another quirk?? damn. also please check out En’s face here you guys

En launching a sneak attack up my favorite character list by the sheer power of his expressions alone. he really knows how to make the most of his screentime

OH DAMN DEKU

at this point the 3% from that hypothetical poll earlier are starting to feel prettttty damn smug, I’ll bet. well shit

what in the fuck

?? so like releasing his chi or whatnot?? isn’t that basically just like base OFA all over again?? also Deku did you seriously just apologize to Gran’s cape

update: Nagant has turned her eyeball into a gun

hm. hmmmmmmm. ...okay yep, still somehow sexy

anyway so she’s just floating up there building suspense, as one does. lord I sure hope she has good reflexes because something tells me she’s going to need them

OH SNAP HE THREW GRAN’S CAPE AS A DECOY WHAAAAT OKAY THAT’S SOME SMART SHIT DEKU

LOL SHE’S MAD NOW

JESUS CHRIST SHE JUST NEVER TAKES A GODDAMN BREAK FROM BEING AWESOME HUH

DEKU ARE YOU JUST THROWING EVERY DAMN THING IN YOUR INVENTORY

but without the cape and the hood how will you continue to look like an enigmatic badass. you really can’t. which means we might finally be moving on from the wandering nomad part of this arc, stay tuned

LOL YOU MANIAC

I hope he went full Kacchan with the dialogue there. his face sure looks like it lol. popped out of a building all mad fdskljlkj omg

well this was fun, shit. I still have basically no idea what Three’s quirk does though lol. like, can he use it to charge up objects with kinetic energy or something?? but then what was all of that talk about combining it with one of the other quirks?? or was that just because he was using Smokescreen at the same time??

(ETA: having seen and read an additional half-dozen explanations of Three’s quirk, I can say with confidence that I still have basically no idea what it is or does.)

anyway so!! Deku is a badasssssss but something tells me not to count Nagant out just yet even so. also I really enjoy seeing Deku flip out on people like he doesn’t have a fucking hole in his torso because it reminds me of A CERTAIN SOMEONE and I always love to see him channeling that feral energy; I feel like it’s been a while

anyways good luck to you both!! I truly wish that both of you could win. but if not, then maybe you can at least become friends instead. you have so much in common, you both can fly and have multiple quirks and you’re both badasses, and plus it would just be really funny to see the look on Hawks’s face lmao

[misha-moose-dean-burger-lover]

deancas highschool au, 1.8k.

dean's pretty sure it all comes down to being sam's fault.

kid had walked into their last scooby doo marathon without warning at eleven friggin' pm, startling both cas and him (because they watch scooby doo like it's meant to be watched — with all their concentration, goddammit) and consequently causing dean to knock over the bowl of popcorn and get its contents all over (and some inside) the couch.

fast forward from there to the next time dean asked mary if cas could sleep over, and her immediate condition being that they conduct the grand bingewatch (a necessary element of the dean-cas sleepovers) in dean's room instead of the living room, as she could not possibly handle finding more popcorn under the cushions of the damn sofa than she'd already been fishing for, the last two weeks.

so there.

it is absolutely and indisputably sam's fault that dean is right now half-propped up in bed next to his best friend, with a laptop on his lap and fellowship of the ring playing on it, unable to think about anything except the way their arms press against each other, knees brush, and cas's head ends up looming too close to dean's shoulder to not be resting on it.

oh, and how good cas looks in the almost-dark, lit by whatever's happening — dean knows exactly what's happening — on the screen.

just because.

it's past two — which translates to way too late for a gay awakening o'clock — but dean's pretty sure if his heart keeps beating at this rate till morning, he's going to wake up in an ambulance.

this has never happened before. being this conscious of wherever they're touching, this excited about it, or this intent on stealing glances when he's sure he won't be caught. (okay, maybe that one's happened before but it's beside the point.) put together, it is alien and disconcerting.

and dean's not an idiot. he knows — he thinks he knows what's happening. and he knows it's not supposed to feel like a switch flipping because these things — and that's about all of the clarity he can afford — happen over time. and yet it's like he's walked headfirst into a wall on this weird, weird night.

the only thing he knows for sure is that he's never felt this way before. not towards cas, not towards anyone.

well, there's also never been an anyone (else).

but screw semantics — dean's terrified.

and it's entirely sam's fault, obviously, which is why the next time dean sees the little bastard, he's going to —

"dean."

it's cas, interrupting his very subtle, manageable breakdown in his endearingly familiar why-aren't-you-already-paying-attention-to-me voice.

dean hits pause, pressing the spacebar and turning to face his cas-shaped dilemma in the eye. "what, you sleepy already?"

"of course not." cas's tone is haughty, like one of somebody who hasn't been the first one asleep in a single sleepover in the past. dean takes the blow with grace, because he friggin' deserves that. he's been ashamed of himself every, single, morning-after. "i was just wondering if the movie," cas tilts his head towards the screen. "isn't disturbing your parents or your brother. i don't think we've ever watched anything past midnight in your room before."

trust me, dean's brain supplies, i know.

but cas does have a point. there's plenty of loud noises in lotr, and the walls aren't particularly thick. and the last thing he wants right now is for dad to come see why they're not asleep yet, and find them friggin' huddled together on a single.

not that dean minds it.

"well," dean frowns. "what do you suggest? it is sorta late to switch to sleepover games, by the way, if you were planning on saying 'never have i ever'."

"we could use your earphones." cas says, like it's the most obvious thing. "and neither of us ever win in 'never have i ever', dean. or lose, actually. we know each each other too well. why would i suggest that?"

but dean's already stuck on a previous part of cas's sentence. "m-my earphones?"

cas blinks at him. "yes?"

dean swallows.

"unless you want to play 'never have i ever'?"

dean swats at cas for that, which the latter tries to dodge by pushing dean with both hands, until dean's wriggling and swearing at him to stop trying to put him through the wall because either they really are cosied up in that little space, or being in the middle of a really important realization makes you go soft on your opponent.

when cas finally lets dean go with a self-satisfied grin, dean only falters for a moment before planting the laptop on cas indelicately and knee-waddling to the end of the bed to get to his desk.

he finds his extremely well-used black earphones soon enough and returns to his spot, where cas shifts hardly an inch to give him his due space, resulting in dean well and truly sandwiched between the wall and cas, because his best friend is a jackass like that. and of course, the only reasons dean leans further towards cas with practised annoyance etched on his face is because it's the kind of annoying he's supposed to be, and it's october and the wall is cold.

cas, on the other hand, is really not.

"what are you waiting for?" cas grumbles, eyes squinty at dean in the dark, and dean makes a face at him, plugging it in (without needing to look, not that he'd've been able to see a thing in the dark anyways), and offering cas the left earplug.

which cas promptly puts in his left ear — the one that's farther away — because he's cas, and things like which earplug is meant for which ear, matter to him.

dean friggin' loves him.

and it's some time after dean's put the right one in his left ear — because he's not cas is why, and their heads are close enough already — and they've hit play and settled into the comfortable silence of watching a movie they've both seen at least five times in the past and dean's actually begun to pay attention, that he absolutely freezes in his metaphorical tracks, the entire world stuttering to a halt as he tries to register that last thought.

he loves cas.

he said it to himself. he said he loved him.

and that's just goddamn it.

he loves cas.

dean's eyes flit to cas, who's watching the movie without having any life-altering revelations, stuffing his mouth full of popcorn every five minutes (a habit dean can proudly claim to have been responsible for fostering in the first place), not smiling but with a corner of his lip pulled up like he ends up unconsciously doing whenever he's really paying attention, his profile only half-lit with colors, and his closeness suddenly so incredibly flustering.

yeah, well. you've known it for a while, the voice in dean's head that's not exactly his, returns. haven't you?

and maybe he has.

or maybe he hasn't, and it really does feel like a switch flipping for some people. people like him who're zoning out watching lord of the rings one moment, and smitten with their best friends the second.

it doesn't really matter either way, does it?

it's 2:37 am when dean turns his head to the movie again.

inarguably far too late for anything to matter to dean other the fact that he knows. the fact that he knows that he's in love with cas. and the fact that he is.

(maybe he can think of ways to ask him out tomorrow.

or next week.

or maybe he'll chicken out a thousand times until he finally ends up stuttering his way through a severely practised-in-the-mirror confession eight months later, and cas will smile that smile he reserves for dean, and say he can't make it friday because of astronomy club, and dean'll blush even harder because he knew that, he knows that dammit, and then cas will suggest thursday instead, and thursday will be too soon and way too terrifying and just perfect. and then they'll live happily ever after.)

but dean's got all the time in the world to sort out — read: lose his shit over — the maybe's.

right now? being in love with cas is enough.

and being here, watching the last sixteen minutes of one of their mutually favorite movies in bed with his best friend and love of his life, is perfect.

*

dean does end up falling asleep first, yet again, cause turns out achieving self-awareness and spontaneous living-in-the-moment prowess don't do shit to help with being less of an embarrassment.

but this time, he gets to wake up with an arm slotted around his waist, and a warm castiel curled up close behind him, still fast asleep and breathing in light puffs down dean's tshirt, so maybe, just maybe, he doesn't have to chalk this one up as a loss after all.

doesn't mean cas still won't be a smugfaced little shit about it though.

but then, that's probably one of the things dean winchester loves about him anyway.

[the-insomniac-emporium]

We Don't Talk (About That) [Cassandra Dimitrescu/Reader]

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: None Summary: Affection has never been Cassandra's strong point- neither the giving nor the receiving of it. But when it comes to you, she's determined to try, regardless of the obstacles in her path. Notes: Spiritual sequel to Everybody Talks Too Much, but they can be read in any order. Reader is selectively mute, but ends up talking in this one, partially due to being high on a fever, oops. The reader in this one is also a lil bit sassier than some of my other ones, hence why it has tentatively earned my "blunt teeth sharp tongue" tag.

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

“Seriously? You’re wearing white for this?” Cassandra says, eying you with a look of disbelief. All you can really do is shrug in response. After all, your hands are occupied with your current task: Wiping blood off of the corridor floor. That didn’t leave much room for miming, or writing anything down. “You’re going to fuck up your sleeves, you know that, right?” Another shrug, this time with an added humming noise, just for fun. Honestly, you weren’t even sure why Cassandra was hanging out, let alone why she cared if you got your shirt dirty. It’s not like she would be the one to do the laundry. More than that, she was the one who had decided to punish a maiden in the middle of the hallway.

Still, you would never think to voice your questions, or otherwise indicate your feelings. Not that you had feelings about her, or anything, the mere idea of that was ridiculous. For a completely unrelated reason you find yourself glad that she could not see your cheeks from where she stood. Glad I don’t talk, you think, otherwise I’d probably say something really stupid right now. Instead, you focus on your work, scrubbing hard at the floors. Despite your companion’s warning, not even a single drop of blood ends up staining your clothing. That’s why I rolled up my sleeves first, babe!... And that’s why I don’t talk, you think, shaking your head to clear your thoughts.

“That was fast. Sure you didn’t miss a spot?” Cassandra asks, stepping over to where you had cleaned. Before you can protest she’s leaning down to examine the floor. Which would, you know, be fine. If she didn’t have blood (and dirt, and who knows what else) on her gloves, that is. Groaning, you try to slap her wrist, temporarily forgetting your place. Next thing you know she’s pushing you to the ground, on top of you with her hand posed to strike. You flinch, instantly, clamping your eyes shut to prepare for the inevitable. But, just as quickly as she had gotten on you, she climbs right off, refusing to meet your confused gaze, refusing to answer your unspoken questions. “You’re lucky that mother thinks you’re useful,” she spat, leaving you with one last angry huff.

“What the fuck?...” You whisper, as soon as you think she won’t be able to hear you. Of all the things she could have possibly done in response… this was the only one you couldn’t justify. There’s only one thing that could possibly help you cope with your confusion: Cleaning. Thankfully, the same person who had just flipped your mind upside down had also left a few boot prints in her path. Humming softly to yourself, you get right back to work, gleefully ignoring what had just transpired.

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

“Why do they do that?” Cassandra snapped, storming into the library, immediately demanding her older sister’s attention. However, Bela does not respond, merely looking up from her book with an eyebrow raised. Frustrated, Cassandra sits down at the table before slamming her fists onto it. At this, Bela sets her book to the side, realizing that she couldn’t ignore this tantrum. “Oh come on, you know exactly who I’m talking about!”

“Yes, I do, because they’re the only person you’ve given a damn about in a decade, maybe longer,” Bela replies, rolling her eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I have any clue what you’re complaining about this time. What did they do, hmm? Did they brush their hand up against yours? Make a heart with their hands again? Oh, let me guess, they smiled when you walked into the room.” At this point, Cassandra was nothing if not predictable, much to her own frustration. How often had she come to her sister, in confidence, to have this very conversation? Countless times, and never once with a clear goal in mind.

Just a head full of thoughts of you.

“They touched me,” she admits, after a few seconds of agonizing silence. The words feel heavy and wrong on her tongue, like they were coated in syrup, too sweet to be anything other than sickening. “Slapped my hand away like I was a kid sticking a fork in an outlet, for fuck’s sake! Who do they think I am?” Now those words felt better. Angrier- left a worse taste in her mouth, but easier to swallow.

“That depends, were you trying to stick a fork into an outlet? Sounds like the sort of thing you’d do to impress them,” Bela teases, laughing even when her arm gets smacked in retaliation. “Maybe you should just ask them, then, if you can’t fathom why they might touch you. Or you could simply wallow in self pity for another decade, pretending to hate their guts when really you’re desperate to get laid?”

“When did you get so rude?” Cassandra snaps, standing up with a scowl.

“Oh, probably about the eighth time we had this talk?” Bela replies, quick as a whip, smiling all the while. If she was going to have to endure this sort of thing this often, she might as well have some fun with it. But this appeared to be the end of this particular conversation, with a miffed Cassandra making her exit, once more leaving Bela to read in peace… for a while, at least.

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

She can’t find you. She’s looked just about everywhere, asked every maiden she’s come across, and all any of them had to say were nervous apologies. Where were you? Why were you absent, now of all times, when she had finally decided to speak to you? Curse my luck, Cassandra thinks, barely restraining herself from wreaking havoc on her surroundings. Though maybe they’ll show up to take care of my mess, she muses, then thinks better of it when she imagines your exhausted expression. After all, there was only one place left for her to look: Your personal quarters. If you weren’t there, then, well, there’d be a new problem entirely.

“They better have a damn good reason for hiding away,” Cassandra mumbles under her breath. Then she’s opening the door to your room, not bothering to knock. What could you want to hide from her anyway? “Oh shit.” Evidently she hadn’t thought this through. There you were, asleep in bed, shirtless, a washcloth on your forehead. Every muscle in your body seemed to be shivering, and the occasional weak murmur leaves your lips. It doesn’t take more than a moment for Cassandra to act. Clearly you’re cold, hence the shaking, regardless of how warm it feels to her. So she’s grabbing a blanket from your dresser, quickly covering you with it. “Is that better?”

You don’t respond. Not that she truly expected you to. But the way you continue to shake has her even more concerned, and a trace of panic starts to set in. She searches for other blankets, laying them on top of you, confused as to why you aren’t getting better. C’mon, asshole, she thinks, I’m trying to help you! As if summoned by her frustrations, a maiden soon swings the door open, freezing in place when they see her. Instantly she’s whirling around to face them, a cruel remark dying in her throat. Of course it was one of her mother’s favorites. Eventually, she would have to find someone else to take her frustrations out on.

“Lady Cassandra? What are you-” Cynthia, senior staff member of Castle Dimitrescu, veteran of more than five years, starts to ask. But once she spies the pile of blankets on top of you… well, her eyes go wide. “Damn it, my Lady, you’re going to kill them!” With that said she’s rushing forward, setting down a basket of who-knows-what on your nightstand, before quickly removing the extra sheets. Half confused, half furious, Cassandra stands nearby, unable to decide how to react. Perhaps noticing this, Cynthia is quick to explain her actions. “They have a fever, the worst one I’ve seen in all of my years here. They may be shivering, but trust me, their skin might as well be on fire.”

“I was just trying to help,” Cassandra defends, words rushing out before she can stop herself. Fuck, this was embarrassing.

“Clearly, and I don’t blame you. Let’s just be glad that I came to check on them, hmm?” Cynthia suggests, giving an oddly motherly (i.e. reassuring) smile. On one hand, Cassandra doesn’t appreciate being talked to like this, at least not by someone other than her mother. On the other hand, well, she is glad that she hadn’t accidentally killed you. Taking a moment to let her heart rate slow back down, Cassandra moves to lean against the wall closest to you. She can’t help but frown when she sees the way your eyes flurry about beneath their lids. What are you dreaming about? Is it a nightmare, she wonders, or something softer, like you deserve?

“Can… can I help?” She asks, voice hardly more than a whisper. It was too late to save herself from embarrassment, but it wasn’t too late to contribute to your recovery. Or at least that’s what she hoped. There’s relative silence for a few moments, as Cynthia thinks over her words, swapping out the damp washcloth on your forehead all the while. When she finally replies, she does not look up from her task. Always the professional.

“Stay with them. If they get worse, come find me immediately. If they wake up, try to get them to drink some water, and ask if they’ve been injured recently. I couldn’t find any wounds on them, but this mess reeks of an infection,” Cynthia says. Opening the basket she had brought in with her, she removes several bottles from within, examining their labels with a tight-lipped frown. “None of these will do shit- pardon my language, my Lady- if it’s an infection, but it should help them fight off the fever until I can get them some proper antibiotics. Well, until the Duke can, that is. Make sure to ask them if they have any allergies to medicine before you give them anything, and please read the directions. They only need to take one kind of pill, alright? I only brought a few kinds in case they can’t have certain ones. Is that clear, Lady Cassandra?”

“Crystal clear,” she chimes, only briefly looking away from you. It’s enough for Cynthia, however, and she leaves with a simple bow. Once more alone with you, Cassandra approaches, gently taking your hand within her own. “You’d better wake up soon. I don’t want to have to babysit you all day…” Doesn’t want to, but would, if that’s what you needed. Wouldn’t hesitate for even a second. At most, she’d make someone fetch her a book to read while she waited. Except… now that she glanced around your room, she found that there were some things to keep her entertained. Like your beloved notepad.

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

What do you mean? I don’t think she feels that way about me. Don’t be ridiculous, she doesn’t like anyone. Because I pay attention to her! It’s not hard to know what she does and does not appreciate, you just need to observe her. No, not like that, don’t be gross. Keep teasing me and my cheeks won’t be the only thing around here that’s red. Oh fuck off, fine, I’ll go talk to her, but you owe me one. Then the page ends, with the next two having been torn out. A few letters here and there are still legible, on what little remains of the missing pieces. Lov- and want her- and wish. Try as she might, Cassandra cannot find the rest of the pages. What had you possibly written that would make you discard all evidence? It’s not like anyone normally went through your notepad. Had you predicted that one day Cassandra would do this?

“Damn it, damn it, damn it!” She growls, dropping the object with an angry sigh. “Who the hell were you writing about? Who were you fucking talking to? Why won’t you wake up, you goddamn asshole?” Through all of her shouting, you do nothing but shake in place, shivering against a non existent cold. Several hours had passed since Cassandra’s arrival, without you doing so much as batting an eye. Slowly but surely, she was being driven insane, exhausted from worry and jealousy alike. Strange how the most obvious answer eluded her so consistently… Yet hope does not entirely abandon her, as eventually her tantrum manages to pierce the haze around your overheating mind.

“Shhhhhhh. Please,” you mumble, eyes still closed, hardly aware of anything around you. All you really knew was that someone was being insufferable. Hell, your fever was driving you wild, and you didn’t even think about the fact that you hadn’t spoken out loud in front of anyone for over three months. Later, after you recovered, you would be glad that it was Cassandra who finally heard your voice. “Inside voice, mhm? Sleepy time…”

“Did- did you just?” Cassandra asks, stunned, shaking her head as if it might make her realize she was dreaming. But no, this was real, and you really had just spoken to her. It’s enough of a shock to render her speechless for a minute or so.

“Thanks, babe. Need to sleep this off. Or… no, wait, I was supposed to tell someone something?” You ramble, trying to sit up, a hand instinctively going to hold your head. The washcloth falls off of you, and you stare at it in confusion. Before you can start questioning the nature of it’s (or your own) existence, you are distracted by Cassandra, who has traded her own perplexion for determination. Next thing you know, you’re quietly sipping at a glass of water. Exhausted, despite having just been asleep, you eye the nearby medicine with curiosity. “I’m… supposed to tell Cassandra something, maybe? Fuck, why is it so warm in here?”

“You have a fever, dumbass,” Cassandra replies, once more finding her voice, still too overwhelmed to process what’s happening. “Look, you have to take something for your head, okay? Then we can… then we can talk about your feelings all you want, okay?” Maybe she was being a bit presumptuous about what you needed to talk about. Or maybe she was just, for once in her life, being hopeful. Regardless, she presents the medicine to you, getting ready to ask about allergies. Before she can, however, you’ve silently reached for the Ibuprofen and started opening it up.

“This’ll do. For the head, not for talking. We don’t-” you pause to take the pills, gulping down half a glass of water with them- “we don’t talk about that. Feelings. Makes her get mad, and I don’t want her to be mad,” you say, shuddering a little at the thought.

“I won’t get mad this time. Besides, you don’t normally talk at all,” Cassandra replies, rolling her eyes again. Finally, for the first time since waking up, you take a good, long look in her direction. Suddenly you’re putting the pieces together, groaning in protest when you do. How had you not realized? How deep into this fever were you?... “Don’t tell me you just figured it out, ‘babe’? I’m amazed you’re functioning at all right now.”

“Fuck you, Cassie,” you snap, mostly teasing. If she wasn’t freaking out about what you had said, well, then maybe you didn’t need to say much more at all. “You’ll still like me when I’m awake enough to be too scared to talk, right?”

“Honestly?... I was hoping this would be more of a permanent thing,” she admits, refusing to meet your gaze as she puts away the unused medicine. “But I guess I can live with being the only one who knows what your voice sounds like. So don’t you dare fucking talk to anyone else, alright?” She’s joking now, too, sounding more relaxed than she usually was. Even with your body fighting against itself, you can’t help but laugh with her. Then she’s slowly sitting on the edge of your bed, next to you, watching you with adoration clear in her eyes. “You’re going to be fine, right? Because if you die on me, I swear I’m going to kill you.”

“With you as my nurse? I’ll be lucky to last the night,” you joke, pretending to whimper when she gives you a playful slap on the arm. “Nah, nah, I’ll be alright, just as soon as I get some rest. Probably. Maybe you should, uh, stay with me? Just in case.” Next thing you know, Cassandra is pushing you down against the mattress, placing a surprisingly soft kiss to your forehead. Then she puts the washcloth back on you, making sure it’s still somewhat cold. Without another word she settles in, leaning against the backboard of the bed, close enough for you to feel her warmth, but far enough that she wouldn’t risk raising your temperature. “Goodnight, Cass,” you murmur, before letting yourself drift back to sleep...