#THAT'S ENOUGH RAMBLING ENJOY THE BILLION OF WORDS WRITING

[somedaytakethetime]

I've had all these snippets of images in my head and I don't know what to do with them.. so I figured I could turn it into some type of writing. There's no discerning details that give any certain person away, so if you read it, in can be about just about anyone you fancy and feel would fit this. Of course, you know who I am picturing but.. that's details 😶 Warning: NO KIDS! DON'T MAKE ME PUT YOU BABIES ON THE NAUGHTY STEP! This isn't even like.. proper dirty or anything, but there's heavy implications and small touches of intimacy and elicit activities, some words that may be heavier than others if you know what I mean.., and I don't want the children to think dirty thoughts 😤 Word count: 5 283 words to be exact, I ramble..

Your hand rises and falls slowly with the pattern of his breathing. It lays on his naked chest, you lay on his naked body, his arms wrapped around you and rubbing your back softly. You watch the shadows on the rug, the same one you're both laying on, cast by the sun as it slowly sets in the window behind your heads. As you try to catch your breath and feel him do the same, you're still wondering how you ended up here.

His eyes are beautiful. That's the first thing you notice as he smiles politely at you and cordially shakes your hand when you're introduced. He repeats the name your superior just said to you, his voices is lower and more sensual than you expected and a small shiver runs through you, you pray you won't stutter and repeat your name back at him. He pulls back and you feel his hand still grasping yours, even as you're introduced to the rest of the bunch. Even as you try to stand as straight as possible beside your new employer, you still feel his hand in yours, his eyes on you, as they'd been just a few minutes ago. You never expected to be here, hired to work at this club, you didn't expect you'd be so close to them either, you thought you would have some small position and do meaningless little tasks. You're nervous, your heart skips beats at times, you're afraid to mess this up, to end up looking foolish in front of so many people, and... you're afraid of the way you can still feel his hand on yours.. his eyes burning into you from across the way.

You should probably get up and leave. Or at least get up and lay on the couch, the rug is soft and warm but it's still a little.. awkward to be laying naked, pressed to him, on his rug like this. His eyes are closed and you wonder if he fell asleep, you try to move away and you find out that he hasn't. His arms tighten around you immediately and he opens his eyes slowly, his voice sounds.. god, his voice, the things he says.. he's so attractive but the way he sounds and speaks, you feel shivers thinking about the things he's said to you before.. even tonight.. you refocus on his voice as he says, soft and low, in that effortless sensual tone that's natural to him, "Where do you think you're going?", a smirk lifts the corners of his lips softly and you hide your face against his chest, suddenly warm all over again and needing.. so much all at once.. you muffle into his skin "I thought I'd get on the couch.." and he nods "Not comfortable here? I should have probably taken you to bed.. I do have one, and it's incredibly comfortable.." he lowers his voice and a shiver runs down your spine again, he's trying to get a rise out of you and he doesn't need to. Everything about him turns you on, you've never been so attracted to anyone before. You part your lips to speak but he doesn't give you the chance. He lifts himself up, takes you with him, somehow through some testosterone-induced display of strength he gets you both up from the floor, carrying you in his arms, without even wobbling once. He looks down at you and his smirk looks devious now, "Shall I show you my bed then?"

Working here isn't as difficult as you'd expected it would be. But it's also not as easy as you'd expected either. You have good days, and bad days. The problem is that the bad days are more frequent. Through no fault of your own, that's just the way things are here. Too many egos, too much testosterone, too many strong personalities. It all leads to arguments, to misunderstandings, to being yelled at and lashed out towards. You're often apologised to, after they've calmed down, asked for forgiveness and told that you've done nothing wrong, they're just all under a lot of pressure and stress. And.. you'd let that slip.. if it wasn't happening constantly, that is. Because none of them know how to control their shitty attitudes and it grates on your nerves. You keep your head down, stay silent, this is a well paying job and you don't want to lose it. Especially not over these assholes and their arrogance. Your superior is nice, that's all that matters because he's the one that you need to spend the most time with, the rest of them can go to hell. The rest of them… except… him. He's kind to you. Incredibly kind even. Has gotten into arguments with others over you. Over the way he watched them talk to you, over the things they've said to you. He doesn't have to get into trouble because of you, you've told him every time, and he just smirks, defiant, like he was made to fight and contradict, "And what? Pass up the opportunity to remind them of their place?" and you start to realise that this man has far more layers than you know of. He's.. hard to figure out. He's quiet, rarely ever speaks unless spoken to, he's also clearly a loner. He'll interact with his teammates when needed, praise them and laugh with them when he's in the thick of training, but outside of that he retreats back into himself. Stands off to the side. Observing everyone. Silently judging them. Silently judging you too..

His bed is indeed comfortable, just as he said it was. The sheets are soft, the pillows smell like him. You love the way he smells, it's so.. rough? woodsy?.. it's manly. You're don't care for logistics that small, but the only way to describe his scent, and even the underlying feeling he gives off, is that. Manly. He has tenderness too, that he's displaying right now as he softly traces your naked body like you're porcelain, placing gentle kisses everywhere, treating you like something fragile and beautiful to be treasured, driving you to the brink of madness with his slow motions. But there's a biting edge to him. You always know that this man, who appears so calm and controlled, will lose his mind in roughly .5 seconds and fight someone if his anger gets the best of him. And you'd be lying if you said that you don't find it attractive. How controlled he is. A stronger personality simmering under the surface of all that control and calmness. Which is too calm at times.. like right now. He's kissed a path up and down your thighs five times and you're about to pull all that glorious hair out of his head if he doesn't do something more than tease you.. "Will you be there all night? Didn't you promise to show me something? Something along the lines of what talents that tongue has that go beyond defying people?". his hands look massive as they snake around your thighs, he pulls you down closer to him suddenly and a squeak flies out of you, the devious smirk, ever so present on those perfect lips whenever he's around you, is back "I like it when you're sassy, baby.. it makes it even better when you start moaning incoherently for me."

A sob slips out of your lips and you try harder to keep it quiet. This is the final drop. You're tired of being yelled at by assholes, sure, but this is worse. You weren't hired to be harassed, if these bastards don't know how to behave that's their problem. You feel anger, a strong and heavy feeling in your chest pooling like black liquid, and you ball up your firsts. You slam them against the wall behind you and you want to scream. You want to go back and slap him, but you're not allowed, even if he was disgusting. The images keep replaying in your head, you're trying to do your job and gather their information to update their data, keeping quiet, head down as usual, asking personal questions in the most formal and detached manner that you can and that oaf.. the big one. You never liked that one from the time you were introduced. He smiled at you like such a sleaze.. you've been revolted by his presence ever since and you avoid him like the plague that he is. But.. you had to do your job. You had to ask questions because of these stupid sheets. Personal, medical, technical, all for the database of their information to be updated.. and he had to try and be funny… he had to try and flirt again, no matter how hard you ignore him he does it again. Asking you personal questions that you ignored, commented on your body and how it looked in the loose, long dress you're wearing.. and… he had to start commenting on his body. On his size to be exact. And his capacities as a man. When he cornered you against the table, put that sleazy, disgusting paw on your waist and said so casually "I could show you.. I bet you'd sound really hot screaming my name while I fuck you.." you just lost your composure. You pushed him roughly, you called him disgusting, you told him firmly "I would rather die without sex again than to have sex with you. You're revolting." and you walked out, found the first bathroom you could, and here you are. On the floor. Trying not to disturb anyone as you sob against the corner. You're not sad, you're angry. Angry that you can't retaliate more. Angry that if you were to tell anyone they would just tell you that the guys here are "being playful, you're a pretty girl, pay them no mind. They'll tire of it, I promise." as they've told you before. You're boiling with anger. You're tired of being disrespected. You make a snarled sound as you get up and walk to the sinks. Wash your tears and try to gather your composure. You look like you've been crying, there's nothing to be done about it. You take a deep breath and turn around. He's standing there. Leaning against the wall, right by the door. You didn't hear him come in. He has his arms crossed over his chest, and he looks pissed. "I heard some things that I didn't want to believe.." he's speaking through gritted teeth, you look at him as he pushes away from the wall, walks towards you, looms, "Did he tell you all that shit?" you wonder if you could lie, say that you were just being sensitive and he didn't mean any of that crap, you know what will happen if you confess what just happened to you. You know he will fight the oaf. You can see the fire in his eyes, those beautiful eyes, daring you to lie to him and pretend he can't see the truth. You just exhale and nod slowly, can't look him in the eyes as his anger bubbles over and the loud smack of his fist slams against the countertop. "That motherfucker! Did he hurt you?? He said you were like marshmallow in his hands, did.he.hurt.you?" and your voice sounds angry "No, he didn't! But he had no right to touch me! I don't want random men caging me against desks and groping my waist like I'm just a piece of meat! Tell that bastard that I wasn't anything other than disgusted by him!" and… he was made to fight and defy people. There's the confirmation. The smirk pulling at the corners of his lips. The fire raging in his eyes. The way he says, so casually, "Oh, sweetheart, I'm going to do more than tell him, don't worry." as he turns his back on you and walks out..

He is unfairly good at that. Unfairly good at everything he does really. He can control his body with just as clinical precision as he can control his temper, and it's unfair. You can feel his smirk against the most sensitive part of you, can feel the delight he takes in how easily and quickly you fall apart for him. Because of him. He's relentless, renders you speechless, a mess of whines and moans and pleas, a mess of neediness and aching and pent up frustration needing to be released. He does it on purpose. Slows down and teases you every time you feel your spine start to tingle and sparks appear in your closed eyes. You curse out his name, "Please! What do I need to do for you to stop that and just let me come, god, will you please do something more!?" say frustrated and he has the audacity to laugh. Right against you. Shivers run down your spine and you moan, it rings inside you and it makes you feverish and needy all over again. Your voice gets softer, you're suddenly pliant in his hands again, mewling and begging. He takes pity on you, holds you tighter, presses you down into the mattress and stops teasing you. Watches you the whole time, eyes fixated on your body and how you arch up for him. Because of him. He loves watching you fall apart like this. He's addicted to how you react to him. He's addicted to you. It's been a long time coming, he's still unsure how he managed to get you here tonight, but he's never been more thankful to whatever Gods are out there, watching over him, and helping him along this path. He doesn't falter until you're pushing at his head, lifts up and smirks at you as you open your eyes slowly, still barely able to focus on him, and he places a kiss right where he just made a mess of and laughs at your curses and shivers. He gets up from his place, crawls over your body, cages you against his bed, "So… how was that?". He feels giddy right now, feels like a teenager again, there's something about making a beautiful girl giving into him like that.. but beyond that.. there's something about having you here right now. In his house. On his bed. Under him. Pliant and willing, eager even, to be with him. He's wanted it for a long time, even if you likely have no idea of it, but that's beside the point now. There's other matters to attend to while you're so willing under him. He nuzzles your neck, kisses you slowly, then whispers in your ear "How do you feel about testing out the quality of my mattress?", and he knows it's incredibly cheesy but he's feeling light hearted and happy tonight, and you react by whining and melting further so.. he figures you don't mind it either.

He would say you've been building a budding friendship. Even if he's pretty sure you have no idea of it. Because he's a little.. guarded, if you will. He doesn't trust easily, he doesn't befriend people easily either. He likes his space, his peace, his own ways. He prefers to stand back, watch others, judge and gauge what they're all about. Studies people and tries to gather information before he can make a decision on them, he tries to be impartial, tries to give everyone a fair chance but.. he's also himself. Reserved and slightly stubborn in his ways. He knows what he wants and he knows how to get it, he's never had trouble with his confidence or his own self assuredness. He doesn't feel the need to justify himself to anyone or be a person pleaser. He also doesn't feel the need to make friends at work, not in a deep sense. He's polite to everyone, he'll be playful when there's room for that, and he'll go along with some things from time to time. But he's not here to be best friends with anyone, he's here to work. And he does his job well. So well apparently, that it's created some friction with some others around. So, try as he might to be professional, he doesn't like some of these guys because they don't like him and don't bother hiding it either. But, that said, he does like you. You're quiet too, just as guarded as he is, and you always keep your head down too. He could see from the very beginning that you're here to do your job and get on with it, and he respects that. He doesn't like stereotypes but he's aware that some girls try to get jobs at places like this for reasons that have nothing to do with the job. He doesn't judge that, everyone is after whatever life they want in the end, but he doesn't particularly care for those girls either. Being loved for the potential of what he could give to others in terms of lifestyle isn't something he wants, he just wants to be loved for himself. It's hard to get people to see him, who he is, without all the glitter and the flashes of the lifestyle. Without the fame aspect and the money. He's tried many times before, had loose strings here and there, and they all fell flat. He didn't feel a connection like he needed to, they weren't bad girls, they were funny and kind, but they had expectations from him. They created an image of him in their heads and that's what they were in love with. Not him. Not the simple man that has simple hobbies. The man that would rather cook dinner himself, instead of go out to some fancy restaurant that he'd have to put a suit on for. He's never been able to share himself, his true self, with anyone before without them thinking he was joking. Girls don't often believe how much of a nerd he is, how boring he can actually be, how unexciting he wants his life to be. Because he looks a certain way. And he has a certain reputation too. All of them do, so he understands it's hard to accept that, in the end, he's just a regular man. But he is. And you believe him. He's unsure how and why he felt such a pull to you when he first shook your hand. There was something. Probably in the softness of your eyes, the clear nervousness that clouded your whole being, the way you tried to stand and look so tall and professional but he could see your hands shaking the whole time, could see your cheeks flush pink with shyness whenever someone talked to you. He grew attached to you the more you spend time together. He sought you out, struck up conversations, tried to get to know you. To get you to be comfortable with him. And little by little you were. You built a friendship, that he thinks you're unaware of, and he cherished that. Cherishes the fact that you only laugh with him, only tease him, only feel comfortable around him. He knows that last bit isn't very healthy but.. he feels vindicated, he's selfish and he doesn't care. He likes you, really likes you, and he likes that you like him back. He also.. feels possessive of you.. which is why… he always gets into so much trouble for you..

He's relentless. And you're going to faint. It's just too much. Your whole body is on fire, your senses are all overloaded, you can't even see straight and your breathing is barely enough to fill your lungs with oxygen. But he's relentless, and you are too because even as your head feels fainter and fainter, you want more and more. You need more and more. You need it all. You need him. He feels amazing, he's sturdy and warm over you, he knows just what to do to make you fall apart at the seams, knows exactly how to move to make your whole body curl around him, knows just what to say to have you biting at his shoulder and clawing your nails down his back. He's amazing, he's both gentle and rough, pushes you back and reels you in, keeps you on edge for what feels like hours and drives you insane. When he allows you to fall, it feels so strong, it's so potent, that you all but faint. Barely hanging on to your senses, clinging to him, possibly crying from how good it all feels, you aren't really sure. Your body is a mess of emotions and he kisses you so slowly and tenderly as he falls with you too. Presses his forehead to yours as you both pull back with a need to breathe, keeps you so close and tight to him, melts against you too and wants to never let you go. You're shaking as you come down, you wouldn't be able to move right now from how limp he's rendered you, but also from how constantly you shake. Luckily you don't have to. He pulls away from you slightly, carefully rolls you both sideways and holds you tightly in his arms. One hand cradling your head and petting your hair, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back. He presses tender kisses to your forehead, whispers to you tender words of reassurance that you're okay and he's right there, holding you and keeping you grounded to this earth so you won't float away. You start to calm down, realise that you did cry because you have tears drying on your cheeks and you're almost scared of the power this man has over you. He makes you feel in a way you've never felt before. He pulls at your heart in such a strong way.. you're scared of that feeling. Because you don't know how he feels about you. He's so hard to read, even as he gently tells you that he's not going to leave and that he's right there for you, that he'll take care of you. It's hard to know if he means now, or… you melt against his chest, sigh heavily, remember what happened earlier today. He's suspended for a few days now. After that show, of course he would be, but you didn't mean for it to happen. You've apologised, chastised him, but it didn't make a difference because all he did was laugh.

You're back with your papers at the medical office right where you left them. They let you use this place today for all the crap that you needed to deal with, but someone clearly filled in for you while you were gone. The papers now have a handwriting that you can barely read. 'Does no one teach these men to write properly!?', you think exasperated. It's not the first time that one of your coworkers hands you notes that are barely legible. You exhale angrily, trying to push aside all that's happened today and just focus on getting to the end of your workday. You're trying to decipher what a certain hieroglyph says when you hear a commotion outside. There's a giant windowed door beside you, that leads to the training grounds, and you approach it. A mass of bodies piled in a circle is on the field, there's shouting. Something is happening. You don't think twice, you open the door and rush out. As you get closer you realise what's happening. He's hitting the oaf. They're tangled on the ground, he's overpowered that oaf, and he's punching him. Everyone else all around them is trying to get them to stop, a few have entangled themselves too and you're not sure why. Maybe men just love any excuse to fight each other and they'll break into silly antics as soon as someone else does. One of the older coaches shouts, the head coach is running towards all of you, some of the older players are trying to keep everyone in check and trying to dodge punches too. 'This is a mess..' you think to yourself. You regret telling him, you should have lied. But, god, you can't pretend that you're not pleased seeing him punch that disgusting oaf.. seeing him insult him and argue with him.. trying to defend you and make him pay for how he acted towards you earlier.. you feel so.. vindicated. Violence isn't the answer, you know it, but sometimes? It's pleasing to see someone do what you would like to do. You would be fired if you retaliated his actions from earlier, but they won't be fired. They're the team.. the club needs the team. They're men, they're always excused for their actions with no more than a slap on the wrist. And a slap on the wrist they get. When the head coach has them all under control he loses his temper and yells at everyone. Scolds them like little boys and a few of them have the decency to look ashamed. When it's all said and done, your saviour and the oaf are suspended for a few days, one for fighting and the other for his lack of professional conduct towards female staff. Rich that it took a fight to break out with the team for them to take the disrespect seriously but.. you'll take it. Some of the others are suspended for a day and the rest are severely scolded just because they were in the vicinity. The head coach turns to you suddenly, "As for you. I would like to apologise for the treatment you've been receiving. I'll speak to the management and we'll see what should be done. But next time? Tell me what happened, not one of my players." and the tone of his voice makes you whisper 'asshole' as he walks away after dismissing everyone. He approaches you, his knuckles scrapped and bloody, his lip is bloody too and he seems to have a bruise blooming under his right eye. You want to kiss him suddenly. He smirks at you, like the devil himself, and says "You're lucky you're this cute, otherwise he would have suspended you too." and winks as he walks past you. You scoff at the suggestion and stomp after him. Until you realise what he said. He thinks you're cute. He's teasing you. Again. You instead walk back to your borrowed office and gather your things, you were dismissed too, and it is the end of the week anyway so.. you cross paths with him as you're both walking out. You're looking at your watch to check the time, maybe there's a bus you can catch now. Or you could walk back, it's not so far off and you did it this morning. But as a hand lands on the small of your back, and a low voice says behind you, "Do you need a ride home?" suddenly.. your plans for the night have already changed..

He's looking at you seriously when your eyes focus on him again. "Is everything okay?" and you nod confused, "Of course. Why wouldn't it be?". He caresses your cheek softly and looks puzzle "I feel like I lost you for a moment there, your gaze was far away.." you settle against him, trace the bruises and cuts on his knuckles, "I was just thinking about what you did today. You got into trouble because of me, and you didn't have to." he pulls you tighter, "Someone had to. Besides.." he lifts your chin up and kisses you again, a deep kiss that takes your breath away and makes your heart pound against your ribs, "I don't like the way he talks to you. Or looks at you. Actually I don't like him in general, but I especially don't like him around you.". He looks like a contrived little boy and you have the urge to laugh and kiss him, you tease him softly, "Jealous? Don't tell me you feel a little territorial already.." and.. he feels his heart do something. Is it skipping beats? Is it sinking? Whatever it's doing, he doesn't like it. He doesn't like the casual feeling he's getting. He's not making himself clear. Of course he isn't. He brought you to his house instead of yours, allowed you to care for his wounds which led to him finally losing his control and kissing you. That kiss led to you losing your clothes and ending up on his rug panting for air. So far, he has done nothing that says 'I want you'. All he's done is say 'I'm horny'. And he doesn't like it. He doesn't like that you might just want casual sex from him, he'd give it to you, oh, he so would. He's a fool for you, he'll do anything you ask, but.. he wants you. All of you. He wants more than just occasional sex. There's a need to make you his in his chest, something he's been trying to control, but he can't hold it back anymore.. he says, serious, "As a matter of fact, yes. Yes, I am. I'm territorial over you. Because I don't like to share. Never did. I was an incredibly selfish boy and I'm not ashamed to say I'm an incredibly selfish man too. I see things I want and they're mine on sight, so I don't take kindly to others forcefully trying to share them." and… your breath gets caught in your throat. Feminism has exited the chat, all of your foremothers are watching over your shoulder with curious eyes right now. You've always been self assured, strong in your convictions, you've never allowed a man to think he owns you or even had the chance to think such thoughts. But.. you're a fool for this man. You would bark if he asked you to, you don't care. He brings something out in you that turns feral. You want him so badly that you'd crawl if he asked. You whisper his name, unsure of what to say, you don't know if he means.. "I like you. In fact, I more than like you. I want you in my life. I've wanted it for a while now and it drove me crazy to think of that fucker touching you. I've been trying to find a way, to get an excuse, to bring you to me. I don't know how to do this the right way, there is no right way, I'm confused because.. I have never felt like this. You throw me off balance, I don't know how to act around you. I've been flirting with you for months now and you're oblivious to me. So, at first I assumed that you didn't want me, and I respected that. Kept my actions the same because I didn't want you to see that I was hurt but.. after what just happened today.. I think you want me. Or maybe you just think I'm really good in bed, I guess that's an option too and I'll respect if you don't want me. But I want you. A lot. What I'm trying to say here is: I think I'm falling for you and I would like you to give us the chance to see where this goes. And we can do this really simply: will you stay the night?" you look into his eyes, his eyes are beautiful, more so after he's just confessed his feelings. You feel the same and you suddenly see flashes of where your lives could go if you accept his offer. You see them reflected in his beautiful eyes. A soft smile appears on your lips as you say "Of course I will."

[ghostxrose]

Taking Over Me | Aizawa Shota x Reader

Part One | Part Two | Part Three |

Summary ~ You have been doing this job for a very long time. Maybe since the dawn of time, but who knows? In all of that time, you never had a doubt or question about the way things were. That is, until now.. because you’re pretty sure that Protectors aren’t supposed to fall in love with those that they’re protecting.

Tags/Warnings ~ Fem!Guardian Angel!Reader, canon typical violence, character injury, angst, hurt, comfort, fluff, medium-slow burn because Shota is bad at feelings, more tags to come as the story develops..

Note ~ Hey, Lovelies! This is something that I've been working on for awhile, and am excited to share with you all! The idea was actually derived from a concept I had for an Original Story that I had started writing a long time ago! There's just something about characters falling in love with ethereal beings and vice versa that I love so much, lol! Anyway, enough of my rambles, enjoy the read, My Lovelies!

Your kind has many names amongst the humans; Protector, Keeper, Champion, Lifesaver, Watcher, Divine Messenger, Guardian Angel, Guardian Spirit, and so on. In the many millennia you’ve existed, you’ve never had a preferred title, just settled on the most accurate term; Protector. Label or not, you simply exist and you have one job. Something that you instinctively and unconsciously perform, no matter who you’re paired with. Your only job is to steer someone away from life-threatening danger. However, it is up to the person to either acknowledge your signs or ignore them.

You’ve never questioned why you exist, why you’ve been given your role, or who was in charge of all of this. You don’t even remember how you came to exist if you were being honest. But from time to time, you do think about some peculiarities you’ve encountered over the thousands of years you’ve been doing this. One of the peculiarities you find to be more.. odd, for lack of a better word, is that of the billions of souls swimming around out there in the universe you’ve experienced repeated pairings with one of them. Though, once again, you don’t ask questions, you just do your job.

Over the last 500 years, you’ve watched over just under a hundred different souls, and that number has only been so low because you keep getting paired with one soul in particular. He’s had a different name each lifetime that he’s lived through, and his appearance changes with each new life. But you can always recognize his soul; the colors of it, the shape of it, the feelings ebbing from it, and.. the way it pulls at yours unlike any other soul has. In this new life, he has dark hair, dark eyes, and pale skin, and goes by the name Shota Aizawa.

The world that he has been born into this time intrigues you. It seems as though most humans, including Shota, are born with powers of all kinds. It fascinates and challenges you in the sense that these “Quirk-powered” humans will make your job of protecting Shota a bit harder. But despite being paired with his soul again and the impending challenge, you silently vow to do your job as best you can. Shota certainly doesn’t make things easier for you when he decides to attend a high school that helps the youth to become Heroes. You stay by his side, though, unseen to the human eye as you watch him work to become a Hero.

~~~~~~~~~~

Let it be said that while your sole purpose is to protect those you’re paired with doesn’t mean that you are some unfeeling being. Countless times have you wished so desperately that you could provide comfort to the humans you protect. Moments when they’re overwhelmed, devastated, or grief-stricken, and all you can do is watch them break apart emotionally. Sometimes, most times, it feels like their pain is your pain. Unfortunately, now is one of those times…

You’re standing beside Shota as he looks down at a pile of rubble that has crushed one of his friends. He’s clutching his bleeding arm with a devastated and traumatized look on his face. As if by reflex, you reach out to put a hand on his shoulder, but your hand phases right through him. You whisper an apology to him even though he can’t hear it, and look at the being across from you. The ethereal glow of their body flickers and dims sporadically as they gaze down at the rubble. It’s hard for you to see the look of deep sadness and guilt on a fellow Protector’s face, especially one you’ve come to know fairly well. They look up at you and the disappointment they feel in themselves is practically palpable.

“You did well… His will to save those children just happened to be stronger than his will to pay attention to your signs… You did all that you could…” You say to them in reassurance, the ethereal echo of your voice holding a certainty to it.

“Thank you…” They say before vanishing into thin air, likely pulled to the next soul they’ll be protecting.

You look back to Shota and wish that he didn’t have to experience such pain so early on in his life. A heavy feeling weighs over you as you follow him to the ambulance that he’s being led to by paramedics. You give silent nods of acknowledgment to other Protectors when you cross their paths. You try your best to offer reassurance to dejected-looking Protectors whenever you notice them lingering. When the day is over, and Shota is curled up on a bed trying to deal with his emotions, you almost dread what the future may hold for this lifetime.

~~~~~~~~~~

Years pass by, and you watch Shota shape into an amazing Hero and person. You feel some relief when Shota accepts a teaching position at the same school he graduated from. You hope that maybe he would mostly stay out of trouble being a teacher versus being a Hero full-time. It wouldn’t be a lie to say that this lifetime has been really making you put in the work toward keeping Shota safe.

School year after school year, you watch Shota intimidate his students and make drastic decisions geared toward helping them realize the path they’ve chosen to pursue. It can be said that his methods are harsh, but you know that he is just trying to help them understand the realities of becoming a Hero. Oftentimes, you think back to the day he lost his friend, and it feels as though you are the only one to see his reasoning.

The day you walk into the classroom for Class 1-A behind Shota, you are interested in what he has planned for this new group of students. The year prior he expelled his entire class, which had even thrown you off a bit. As he gives his introduction, you scan the small sea of students and their Protectors. Most of the Protectors appear neutral, almost laid back for the moment, but a few catch your attention.

The Protector standing near a boy with a scar on his face seems to be wilted, their helplessness almost making their ethereal glow dim to nothing. The Protector to the left of a boy with green hair appears to be harshly glaring at the blonde boy in front of the green-haired child. Meanwhile, the spiky-haired blonde boy’s Protector seems to be exhausted, and from the aura the boy gives off, you wonder if the exhaustion is from protecting him or just observing him. Lastly, the Protector standing near the blonde boy seated closest to the door is rather.. shifty, like they’re nervous. Their gaze keeps darting around the room to look at the other Protectors, then back down to the boy they are paired with.

You understand that as children, none of the students really pose any threat to Shota, but you find that it’s still best to be on higher alert if a human’s Protector is acting strangely. Especially in this lifetime and with all of the many Quirks you’ve seen from being by Shota’s side. You’d much rather err on the side of caution than ignore a potential threat.

By the end of the first day, you’re quite surprised that Shota only expelled one student this year. The short boy seemed quite upset when he learned of his expulsion, but his Protector seemed to have slumped with relief. It made you wonder just what that Protector had observed of the boy throughout his life. Regardless, seeing the posture of the Protectors near each of the female students ease at the news of the boy’s expulsion was enough for you to agree with Shota’s decision.

The second day doesn’t go as smoothly as you or Shota had hoped. Shota wasn’t in any danger, thankfully, he just slept peacefully in the teacher’s lounge while a Hero called All Might took over the class. When Shota was awoken by his phone ringing, it was Recovery Girl informing him that one of his students was very injured during the battle training All Might was supervising. You could practically feel Shota’s worry and anger as you followed behind him as he made his way to the infirmary.

After watching Shota give All Might a stern talking-to for letting the students go that far during training, you followed him back to his classroom. You listened idly by as he announced that he would be taking the class on a trip to a facility called the USJ in a couple of days. Most of the students cheered and voiced their excitement over going on a field trip, but Shota was quick to quiet them. He made it clear to the class that it wasn’t going to be a leisurely trip, but another means of Hero training. With most of the class deflated down into more of a serious state, he dismissed them for the day.

~~~~~~~~~~

The day of the trip arrives without much fanfare, and you stay dutifully by Shota’s side as he leans back against the seat of the bus and naps. Vehicles such as buses were always an interesting environment to be in as a Protector. Looking over your shoulder at the rows of seated students, you see each of their Protectors lining the middle aisle. While your kind doesn’t really exist on the same plane of existence as humans, your ethereal bodies are comparable to what humans call ghosts, you still prefer not to be phasing in and out of a human body.

As the bus slows to a stop, Shota awakens and stands to face the class. He tells them to be on their best behavior and to focus on learning all that they can today. You make your way off of the bus with Shota leading the way and his students following behind. You and Shota walk up to the doors of the USJ, joining up with another Hero dressed in a spacesuit.

The spacesuit Hero, Thirteen, cheerfully greets the students and then begins explaining the purpose of the USJ. They get serious while explaining that there are a lot of dangerous Quirks out in the world that have the potential to be deadly before showing and explaining their own Quirk. Your gaze sweeps over the students, and you find that most of their Protectors are absentmindedly nodding and checking to see if their humans understand the warning being given.

Soon enough, Thirteen pushes the doors to the USJ open, leading Shota and his students into the facility. The students audibly marvel at the inside of the USJ and its different disaster zones. Thirteen gets into explaining what the different zones are and the unique difficulties that come with each zone. When they finish, they look to Shota and he nods at them before beginning to tell the students who would be in which zone. Shota gets interrupted by a red-haired student, their Protector pointing to something behind you and Shota. When you turn around to see what the Protector is pointing at, your intuition and protective instincts flare to max levels.

A massive portal has opened up down in the center plaza of the USJ and sketchy-looking humans have begun pouring out. You hear Shota identify them as villains and you gear yourself up for the fighting he will inevitably engage in. As expected, Shota yells for the students to stay with Thirteen and rushes into battle. You follow closely behind him, confident in his fighting abilities and quick reflexes.. But, you know that even if he isn’t aware of your existence or the parameters of your job, he does rely on you to watch his back.

Being a Hero’s Protector is no easy feat since villains have their own Protectors. Your kind have a job to do, no matter the human you are paired with. A villain’s Protector will protect them just as fiercely as a Hero’s. That said, since being Shota’s Protector in this lifetime, you’ve worked harder to become faster at alerting Shota to danger. More often than not, you can get Shota’s attention and help him to strike before a villain’s Protector can warn them.

As Shota is taking down villain after villain, you take a brief moment to look toward three unmoving villains. The one with multiple severed hands clutching his body scratches at his neck wildly as his Protector stands near him. You notice something strange about the other two near the Hand Villain, though.. While they both seem to be alive, neither of them has a Protector within sight. It’s unusual for your kind to stray very far from the human they are paired with, so not seeing a Protector right next to either villain is very abnormal.

In your momentary distraction, Shota takes down two more thugs and is rushed by the Hand Villain. Disappointment, in yourself, floods you as you watch Shota blink and his Quirk deactivate. The Hand Villain monologues as the spot where his hand is on Shota’s elbow begins to crack and flake away until the muscle underneath is showing. Shota reactivates his Quirk and breaks away from the Hand Villain, but his groans of pain echo in your mind. Berating yourself for being so careless, you stick closer to his side as more low-level thugs surround him.

The Hand Villain continues his annoying chatter as Shota, tired and worn out as he is, fights off the thugs using his good arm. His elbow looks bad, and you feel like you’ve failed him. You work harder to give him every sign and warning possible to take down the thugs relentlessly rushing him. Difficult as it is with one arm, Shota succeeds and turns to face the Hand Villain, putting you both back to back. Horror fills you along with the urgent and intense need to warn Shota, but with the state he’s in, he misses sign after sign that you send his way. He doesn’t notice the hulking beast behind him until the Hand Villain says something.

Despair like nothing you’ve ever felt before fills you as you watch the monstrous creature beat Shota down like he’s nothing but a small bug under someone’s boot. You scream, but the echoing ethereal sound only catches the attention of other Protectors around you. You flinch every time you hear the snapping of bone and cry of pain. The ethereal glow of your body dims from the feeling of failure filling you, and when the merciless creature slams Shota’s face into the ground you think only one thought…

‘Shota is going to die today…’

Falling to your knees next to Shota, you’re gaze is too focused on the growing puddle of blood on the ground to realize that the monster leaves Shota to defend the Hand Villain. Apologies spill from your lips over and over again as you continue looking at his limp and broken form. You can feel that he is dying and for some reason, it causes you immense pain. It’s a pain unlike anything you’ve ever felt before with any other soul, or during any of his other lifetimes. Everything else going on near or around you becomes irrelevant as you place a hand on Shota’s head, your touch light enough to not phase through him.

You startle when you feel the touch of a hand on each of your shoulders and looking up, you find a Protector on either side of you. You also notice that three of Shota’s students, the green-haired boy, the girl with the frog Quirk, and the boy with the tape Quirk, are carefully lifting him. The three students’ Protectors help you up off of your knees and walk with you when the students start moving toward the entrance of the USJ.

“Fret not, he may still have a chance…”

“You did all that you could…”

“His will was to protect those students, and you helped him achieve that…”

The echoing ethereal tones of the three Protectors walking with you fill your ears, but you find it difficult to take comfort in their words. Words that you’ve said to so many others before. Words that you’ve found comfort within before when you were feeling far less pain than you are right now. You can’t find it in yourself to respond to the other Protectors, so you just continue to walk in solemn silence.

At some point, the green-haired boy and his Protector break away to head back to the fight, leaving the other two students to carry Shota to the entrance. When they finally get up the steps and rejoin the small group of other students, they carefully lay Shota’s body down next to Thirteen who also seems to be injured greatly. You gaze down at Shota numbly, unable to comprehend why you feel so.. broken.

“What the hell is going on..?”

You startle as a sudden presence from beside you speaks. Recognizing the voice, your head whips to the side in complete shock. Standing there right next to you is Shota, looking far more translucent than he usually does. You just stare at him in shock and disbelief, your mouth agape and eyes blinking owlishly.

“Who the hell are you? Is this some kind of Quirk? Are you one of the villains?” Shota asks, his tone is demanding and quite confused, not that you blame him.

“Y-you.. you can see me?…” You ask, disbelief and confusion coloring your ethereal voice. Now, at this moment, in this lifetime, you have so many questions as you also wonder what the hell is going on.

“Uhm.. yeah. I can see you.” Shota says with uncharacteristic uncertainty. Apparently deeming you non-threatening, his posture deflates into resignation as his gaze sweeps across his students, “So.. are you here to take me wherever it is dead people go?”

Sadness creeps back into you and you look back down at his broken body, shaking your head, “No, I.. I only protect… Escorting the dead is not part of the job…”

“Protect?” Shota questions quietly as he looks back at you. “What, like a.. Guardian Angel?” The skeptical tone in Shota’s voice makes the corners of your mouth tick up ever so slightly because even though he is quite literally dying, of course, he is trying to be rational right now.

You meet his eyes with a slightly amused look in yours, “You humans have many names for my kind, ‘Guardian Angel’ is one of them… Many are like me; uncaring of what we are called, just here to do our job…”

Shota still looks skeptical, but he nods his head, “Does this normally happen when a person dies? We get to meet our.. Guardian Angels before we move onto whatever afterlife is out there?”

You shake your head and look back down at his body, “This has never happened to me before… We are not meant to be seen by humans, dead or alive.. and technically, you are not dead… Your body is struggling, but you are still alive…”

You pause for a moment as the weight of your failure falls back over your shoulders, almost tenfold. You speak again before Shota has the chance, your tone heavy with sadness, “I am so sorry, Shota… I should have done more to keep you safe… It is my fault that you are in this position… I failed you…”

Silence hangs between you both as you watch paramedics move Shota’s body onto a stretcher. They spend a few moments wrapping his injuries with makeshift bandages and attaching various equipment to him. When they begin moving him to an ambulance, you step forward to follow but are stopped when you feel a warm hand on your shoulder. It’s different than the cold feeling of another Protector’s touch and stops you in your tracks. You turn slightly, your wide eyes meeting Shota’s uncharacteristically soft ones.

“You.. I’d like to think that you did your best to protect me, and whatever happens to me.. just know that I don’t blame you.” Shota’s gentle tone catches you off guard and also strikes something deep within you. The most you can muster is a shaky nod before you both begin to head for the ambulance his body was taken to.

Divider Credit ~ @cafekitsune

[theycallmeratt]

Writer Interview

Tagged by the fantastic @beesht, @commander-krios, and @coreene!

(just realized I forgot to tag people ummmm @lolliputian, @aviatorasharak @bloobluebloo)

When did you start writing?

So long ago that I no longer recall when it was. I also like arranging and playing with words. It's a crutch for me; my brain often feels aimless and chaotic. Writing lets me lock down my thoughts so I can quit chasing them.Expressing myself face-to-face has always been a struggle; I hide behind screens, sunglasses and masks. I'm happiest when people don't know what I look or sound like, and writing is the easiest way to talk with people without my physical-ness getting in the way.

Are there different themes or genres you enjoy reading than what you write?

Love horror, adore it. I'm not super great at writing it (yet!).

I also love heists. I keep trying to write a heist. It is not going well.

Finally, I love mythologies and folklore. I'm currently really into American Indigenous (specifically Inuit and I just got a book on Latin American mythologies) and Middle Eastern (specifically Iranian). Or, at least what I can find in English, from a reputable source. I would love to write about characters from these (Esfandiyār! Sedna!) but I'm a white American who is neither a part of those cultures nor educated enough to treat the subject with the respect it deserves.

But I will talk about them and encourage other people to learn because they're very cool.

Is there a writer you want to emulate or get compared to often?

Haha, I specifically don't read while I'm writing so I don't emulate anyone, but creativity doesn't happen in a vacuum so..

My writing style and content were influenced by the authors I grew up on: KA Applegate, Terry Pratchett, Diana Wynne Jones, Terry Brooks, Sergio Lukyanenko, Neil Gaiman, Francesca Lia Blake, Anne Bishop, Terry Goodkind, Arthur C Clarke, Laurel K Hamilton. Some of those authors I was far too young to read, a lot I don't read or like anymore, but they definitely shaped my fascination with urban fantasy, people living normal lives in weird worlds, people finding the weird in normal worlds, horror and humor and how they fit together, how both are most effective when they're just reality taken slightly off-kilter, and how small any single person's perspective is.

I've also been on Tumblr for about a billion years and have the Tumblr/millennial accent and I'm too tired to change it. 

Can you tell me a bit about your writing space?

On my phone, swipe keyboard, usually while commuting or waiting in line or standing over the stove or late at night when I can't sleep. Writing isn't a priority in my life right now, so I squeeze it into all the empty spaces.

What's your most effective way to muster up a muse?

I wrote about this here under "recharging when I'm not feeling creative" and here under "where do you get inspiration", but short answer is taking a complete break from creating anything, slogging through whatever is blocking me or interacting with my community.

Are there any recurring themes in your writing? Do they surprise you?

Shifting identities and what defines a person. I was raised on the idea that the "soul" is a person's core unifying self. I'm fascinated by this concept because if you take away "soul" as an easy answer, then what is a person? What makes me the same person as who I was twenty years ago? As me, age 2 months? If I lost all my memories, am I still me? What if I only lose one thing, like my driving force, or a fundamental belief, or if I recover from trauma or receive treatment for a chronic condition? What if I was uploaded into a machine? 

Anyway, I'm rambling, but I think I probably assign my identity to experience: memory, skills, hobbies, achievements and failures, and those are the concepts I've been exploring a lot.

What is your reason for writing?

I get itchy otherwise.

Is there any specific comment or type of comment you find particularly motivating?

I like knowing the exact parts people like, so whenever anyone quotes part of a fic, I get excited. I also love hearing people's theories or if they noticed any Easter eggs or references. My writing is so self indulgent sometimes and meeting people who also like it feels like meeting people who would like me? (That sounds really pathetic haha but I'm leaving it because it's honest).

How do you want to be thought about by your readers?

Funny! And hopefully a bit creative. 

What do you feel is your greatest strength as a writer?

Finishing a piece before I publish it, I guess. Writers have a right to bail on a piece for whatever reason, even for no reason. Writers have a right to publish incomplete work. But, personally, I'm a little proud that I put out completed pieces. 

I also try to write in a way that's uncomplicated. I avoid using oversized words, complex sentences, too many pronouns or vague references. Keep things simple, you know? I want to write things that people can read when they're distracted, or only have time for a few paragraphs, or if they aren't great readers.

Usually when I'm reading my head is already fried and I don't have the time or spoons to get assaulted by a thesaurus.

When you write, are you influenced by what others might enjoy reading, or do you write purely for yourself, or a mix of both?

I'm only influenced if I'm doing a piece for someone, or if I know a specific person will read it and I want to make them smile. Beyond that, it's all for me :)

How do you feel about your own writing?

It's a little trite, but that's okay. I love happy endings, so I aim for that. I also love the bizarre, absurd and ridiculous.

I do overuse this sentence format, where it's two clauses together. I'd like to fix that. And like all my paragraphs are three sentences, gross.

Anyway, I like it overall.

[the1975attheirverybest]

Concept inspired by the video of Matty getting angry. Reader is at a bar with friends and Matty is supposed to meet her here, some guy stars bothering her so maybe she texts him but she doesn't want him to worry so maybe she just asks him if he's on his way and when gets there he immediately sees what's going on and go in full protective mode. I imagine him saying something like: the lady here is clearly not into you or something like that.

Offfff. Can I say I’m still watching that video of him being mad at the dude in the crowd and…it gets hotter and hotter every time. From every new angle tiktok supplies me with….

Like maybe she’s tried being polite about it and said that she’s meeting someone, but the guy took that as a random excuse to get rid of him, so he’s more insistent now, and making her increasingly uncomfortable. She clutches onto her drink and sips on it, hoping that maybe if she orders a refill, the bartender will notice and help her out or something. But she can’t get through it fast enough. She pulls out her phone, awkwardly texting Matty

Are you almost there?

He writes back, be there soon! Everything alright?

She just responds with a “yes.” And Matty doesn’t know what to make of this exchange. So, when he arrives, he’s looking for her as soon as he walks in, then he sees her and it all clicks in his head. He’s enraged, fists clenching by the sides of his body as he squeezes past all the tipsy people around to get to the bar.

He goes up to the guy, from behind, and she sees him, her face instantly relaxes. But before she can even say hi or signal that her person has arrived or anything, Matty is tapping that douche on his shoulder, like, kind of aggressively. “Hey, man, I think she’s made it pretty clear she’s not interested in…all this” he gestures vaguely at the guy. “So, why don’t you fuck right off, yes?”

The guy is PISSED. He starts rambling about how Matty thinks he’s better than other men cuz of his dumb little tattoos and his childish haircut, and he’s just kinda like “what the fuck do you think you are?”

Matty’s suppperrr smug in the moment. He just grabs her waist, pulling her into him, and kissing her lips “her boyfriend is who I am. Who the fuck are you?”

Of course, the guy starts to walk away, mumbling under his breath that she’s a slut and she was “leading him on” by not mentioning she was with someone, or whatever, not like she asked him to leave her tf alone a billion times.

Matty is fuckin losing it. Nobody’s gonna insult her in his presence like this. She keeps begging him to just let it go, but he’s in a mood now. So he goes up to the guy, stops him, towers over him (like the short king that he is) and reaches his arm behind the guy to lean over the bar. But the guy thinks Matty’s reaching his arm to, like, hit him or something, so he’s flinching and losing it. Matty just whispers in his ear. “Say another word, and I don’t mind getting arrest to teach you how to talk to women.” Then pats him on his shoulder as if they’re besties “we good? Alright. Enjoy your night, mate.”

And walks away…

[sighonaraa]

you’re an authorial trooper man, i hope you keep sharing your thoughts about your fics in the future :) it’s so nice to hear your rambles about the man city fix-it and i notice you sometimes say you don’t want it to put people off - trust me, it doesn’t! i’ve massively enjoyed everything you’ve written for ted lasso so far, and i’m sure anyone following your blog has too. keep it up, you’re killing it! <3

wahhhhhh oh man. man oh man. this was so lovely to get, thank you thank you <3

i am still trying to get myself to a point where i'm, like. confident enough in my own writing that i can just screech abt it from the rooftops without feeling embarrassed about it. it's a work in progmess as ted lasso thee man himself would say! but receiving asks like this truly truly truly fills me with such joy and light, i cannot properly express it in words so [bursts into one billion pink heart emojis forever]. wahhhh. MWAH.

[pinkseas]

[parasocial bestie] I HAVE TO BE FRFRFR WITH U IT TAKES JUST AS MUCH PRACTISE. AS WRITING I THINK. altho with my current experience in Writing thats not walls of texts of Ramble and Self Indulgence i be thinking writers wud have it harder esp vocabulary.... like man how u words how do u get the pacing right YOU DID GOT IT SO RIGHT HAVE U ANY IDEA REREADING UR TWO SILLY FICS + VIOLENCE FIC STILL GETS ME IN TEARS or i am just that of a sucker to specific emotions in general SKDFJHSDKJFH LIKE IDKKKKK like holy facken shit it took u a decade and my first attempt at just Writing even 500 words it felt like forever...... turns out intense eyeballing on chunks of words in great fics do not work like i do to improve in art nods nods [takes notes] yes that is my only way of even Understanding how art works LMAO

"words of someone who would KILL to be able to accomplish this tone and such in So Many Fewer Words but who does Not Know How To Do That so ten hundred billion words it is" HAHRGKADFKSDJH I WONT STOP UUUU ALTHO ITS A BIG BEEG STRETCH I WILL ALWAYS SUPPORT YEW WITH MY LITTOL ANON HANDS SHIELD U WITH MY COOL ANON SHADES....... in these cases u shud not stop someone from burnout by blocking da way u shud JOIN THEM AND PUSH ON TOGETER AND DAS A MOTTO

NO BUT THAT SILLY GENUINELY MAKES ME A LIL SILLY A LIL UEUEUEUEUEUE i didnt expect that extra comment like srsly cus like UHUHUHUHU IM GLAD U THINK THAT WAY and i honestly think its either a natural response to me or not cus me with my own circle of close friends we'd always support each other in ways it's on equal respect depending on what need to be treated like yknow?? altho by default we're all nice to the other its always a main thing not to let another person's slip ups slide, bad moments carry them away or get our egos inflate so hard so that sort of morals we had tgt kinda ingrained on me to treat any other person like dat like its normal... im nawt gonna lie to u i used to be Way more insensitive and impulsive before and our exchanges coulda been wildly different if it werent for my own besties and it helps me gather!! more besties out of my safe space!!! LIKE YEAHGHHHHAHHHH KDSJFHSDKJH AND IT GOT ME TO U!! AND I WANNA BE GENUINELY NICE AND SUPPORTIVE TO U WHEN I CAN EVEN BEHIND THESE LIL ANON SHADES!!!!!!!!!!! cus its always been. a normal human thing 2 do. like yknow. and i am not gonna keep contradicting myself when dats something id want to influence on my stories and silly lil brainrots too anyways i also got a lil silly but idc ilysm <333333333333333 AND U DESERVE ALL DA KINDNESS FROM ME AND ALL UR BESTIES TOO :muscle_arm: x2743573495 cus i am sending this ask thru pc sob

vocabulary 🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 my bestest friend my worstest enemy im so srs it is Everything to me and also i cannot stand it. horrible. awful. beautiful. perfect.

YOU CANT JSUT TELL ME YOU RTEREAD THEM ILL FUKINGCCG EXPLODE OH MY GODFDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD i need to write violence fic part 2 and maybe even a part 3 where its not the same little world and the violence is scaramouche himself hunting dottore down ohhhhh that'd be so lovely but also i dont think im good enough or creative enough with gore to do that thought justice im gonna be SO fr. YOU CANT JUST SAY THEY GET YOU IN TEARS I WILL FUKCVINFG EXPLOFDE !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

dies. dies. dies. anyways. i will never forget being like 11 or 12 years old and roleplaying warriors cats on my kindle <- genuinely my introduction to writing for fun outside of just school stuff. i wrote for YEARS and then i all but stopped writing for Also Years to the point where i genuinely thought i just. couldnt do it anymore. gone. i barely managed anything no matter what i tried and i got sooo frustrated and also just didnt really enjoy it? but thats bc my mental health was fucking horrific and the better i started doing the more i started really writing who would've thought LMAO no bc like 2?? years ago ??????? id basically given up !!!!!!! and then there were a couple tiny fics and then photosynthesis and i was like oh. i Can still write and i Do still have so much fun with it. and now i am unstoppable amen

writing is weird bc reading fics CAN help but i think reading books helps better? and its this constant state of like. ive heard with art that tracing genuinely helps, ofc you cant claim it for your own or anything but there's that sort of muscle memory and learned proportions and the practice of doing the same thing over and over again i think is a good thing? i think ??????? and in writing you rly cant copy anyone word for word and get anything out of it, it doesnt teach you anything it doesnt get you any further there's no sort of muscle memory connected with it. but what ive done a lot is looked at writing i rly loved and been like. okay so if i wanted to do this how would i accomplish it? i cant guess other writers thought processes but i can figure out how id reach a similar end goal ig ?? and in my own writing if im failing to accomplish what i want its a matter of ok, what DO i want, what if i change pov, what if i change the setting, what if i change the circumstance, etc etc which i think you could probably do the same thing in art if smth felt off or wasnt looking right ?? maybe ??? idk at this point my writing is a massive patchwork quilt of countless other authors and fic writers and a surprising amount of my own experience and ive noticed a lot of repeating elements in my own writing whether fics or original content and i dont really know How i got here but here i am. and ON TOP OF THAT actually seeing fanart ALSO helps my writing because ill see an expression or design or setting or anything that i really love and immediately start thinking of how to describe it in words yknow ???

im literally rambling so much today this is so fucking awful. awful day for the pinkseas community or at least pinkseas herself god help me

JOIN THEM AND PUSH ON TOGETHER............ UR LITTLE ANON SHADES............................. crying shaking sobbing bawling ily so fucking bad :((((((((((((( /pos we r pushign forward Togehter...

my rly close friends and i are the same way its SO so so lovely, having that constant respect and support and helping each other grow and learn its soooo. dsfmgndfmgfd. and trust me i also used to be a lot more insensitive and impulsive than i am now but ive learned sm and my own friends have helped sm and !!!!! we are soooooooo handshake emoji rn 10 million handshakes for us

UR SENDING IT ON PC AND IM ANSWERING ON PC </33333333 no bc organizing my thoughts on my phone is the worst ever but on my pc i dont have a bunch of heart emojis to spam at my fingertips its so sad....... sometimes when i rly wanna include them ill save as a draft and just put the emojis in and post it on my phone LMAO

[spideyhexx]

take a chance on me - b.b.

here's something I wrote for @buckyblues 4k writing challenge! I've been wanting to get back into writing, so here's my first go at it :)

using the song prompt "take a chance on me by abba." @edenslibrary

be sure to let me know what you think :) reblogs, likes and comments are appreciated 😊

bucky barnes x reader

summary: bucky has a crush on you. he's doubtful of himself, messes up, but turns it around.

WARNINGS: sfw. fluffy. some tiny tiny angst. bucky being self deprecating. huge hate of chekhov. bookstore owner!reader.

word count: 2.3k

Bucky replays his conversation with you a billion times within the couple of minutes it takes for him to walk from the quaint little book shop to his apartment.

After his favorite bookstore closed, Bucky took to finding a new one and stumbled upon the Murky Lime. He thought the name was strange, a little off putting, but as soon as he walked in, Bucky knew he was going to enjoy spending his afternoons there. It always smelled like hazelnut or vanilla, a scent he found so incredibly comforting that he bought a hazelnut scented candle for his home. Although it was a small shop, the shelves were loaded with books and he was able to find a hidden corner to sit down and read for a couple of hours, unbothered.

Not to mention the pretty girl that worked at the main desk and seemed to be the owner. You were there every afternoon that Bucky stopped by. He noticed how you would paint your nails when there weren’t as many customers. How kind your words were to anyone who asked for help. It took him a couple of weeks to work up the courage to ask you to help him find a book, even though he knew exactly where it was.

Bucky remembers when he complimented your bracelet and you smiled, stuttering out a thank you. The first time he saw you nervous. It gave him hope that maybe you were into him, but Bucky pushed away those thoughts as quickly as they came.

He couldn’t fathom how someone would truly want to be with him. Besides, he had enough on his plate, what with helping Sam on whatever mission he called him on and dealing with the occasional nightmare that haunted his mind.

That’s why he keeps on replaying the conversation. And cursing at himself for being so stupid.

…

“Hey Bucky!” Your words were cheerful, causing heat to rise up on his cheeks. You loved how a simple greeting seemed to get him all flustered. He’s still not used to even hearing his name come from your lips.

“How’re you doing, doll?” He lets the endearment slip, hoping he’d get to see you smile, and you do, before turning away and pointing at a box.

“I’m alright! And if you don’t mind, and you can totally say no, but I got a whole new set of Chekhov plays and I need to bring them to the play section, which is the furthest point from here and the box is a bit too heavy and I was going to make multiple trips but now you’re here and-”

“Of course I’ll help,” Bucky responded, chuckling at your babbling. You sighed, secretly hating your rambling habit, but it was hard not to when a handsome man was standing in front of you.

“I thought you hated Chekhov?” Bucky asked, picking up the box and following you to the play section.

“Oh I do, but a customer has been calling in for the last three weeks, asking if we have Chekhov and I thought I should finally put my Chekhov hating ass aside to appease the people who adore him,” you told him.

You couldn’t remember when you told Bucky you hated Chekhov, but you did not necessarily need to say it for someone to understand your distaste for the author.

“Or they could’ve just gone to a different bookstore,” Bucky mumbled, but you heard and let out a laugh. He put the box down and leaned against the opposite book shelf, hoping you would continue talking to him as you put the books away.

“So, I had another question for you,” you said, sneaking one glance at him before looking away.

“Go for it.”

“I was wondering if you wanted to go out sometime? Not sure where but we could just go get some coffee? Or go out to dinner?”

This was it, the penultimate moment Bucky had been dreaming about ever since he laid eyes on you. Yet his mouth began speaking before he could really take it in.

“Um, no,” he said, immediately widening his eyes at your expression. Your mouth dropped to say something, but you weren’t sure what to even say.

“I mean, I don’t know. I don’t think I can, right now, maybe?” You raised an eyebrow at him and smiled softly.

“It’s okay to say no, Bucky.”

“I know that, I know. I think I’m just not ready right now,” he said, his voice quieter as he said the last part. His brain was screaming at him to retract everything he had just said to you and to tell you he would go on a date, but Bucky could not do it. He already felt like he had failed and saw no point in trying.

“That’s okay. But...if you ever change your mind, let me know, I’d still be down,” you said.

You were slightly disappointed, but understood his reasoning even if he didn't give you an exact one.

Ever since he first came to your shop, you knew exactly who the tall, blue eyed man was. It was hard trying to comprehend everything James Bucky Barnes had gone through. You knew asking him out might’ve been a big step from having occasional small talk. A small part of you hoped he would take a chance on you someday.

...

Bucky throws his jacket haphazardly onto the couch as soon as he gets home, not caring that it ends up falling to the floor. He lights the candle on the kitchen counter and collapses onto the couch face first, letting out the sigh that was building up in him ever since he left the Murky Lime.

How could he do that? Was he actually not ready to date? He told himself he wasn’t, that’s why he felt like he had to say no to your date. But god, does Bucky want to go out with you and hold your hand and kiss your cheek. He hasn’t felt this feeling in a long while.

All the therapy sessions with Dr. Raynor flood his mind. The ones where she encouraged him to try dating and finding new friends but he brushed it off, feeling like he was unworthy of it. How could a sweet girl like you see something in him, he simply did not understand it. But you liked him enough to ask him on a date and he fucking said no.

Bucky sends Sam a quick text that’s more like an entire paragraph explaining the situation and what he should do. He throws his phone to the other side of the couch and drops his head into his hands. His phone pings a few seconds later and Bucky scrambles to grab it.

I think you’re just afraid of dating buck. You’re definitely ready, you’ve done so much work to be yourself again and I’ve seen that in you. If you like her AND she mentioned still going out if you changed your mind??? Go get her, man. Take the chance. If it doesn’t work out and you really aren’t ready, then that’s okay too. But it’s clearly eating you up that you said no, so just go to her.

...

You button up your coat and stuff your phone into your pocket, straining your head to the side to double check the time. Closing the store required a particular routine that you perfected, but you did not expect to see Bucky’s face at the front door. He did not notice you looking at him and you see the hesitation in his hands before he opens the door.

“Hey,” he says, shoving his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Hello again.” Bucky gives you a stiff grin and rocks on his feet for a few moments. The silence is deafening and it’s just about too awkward for you to handle.

“Is there uh..something you want?” He glances up and your eyes lock with his pretty blue eyes. You feel like you could gaze into them all day.

“Yeah, if you’re still up for it, I would like to go on that date with you. I’ve been afraid to put myself out there, but you’re so kind and beautiful..” his words trail off and he’s distracted for a moment at how you’re biting your lip nervously.

“I wanted to take a chance, so yes, let’s go on a date.”

“Do you wanna go now?” Bucky raises his brow and nods. You run to the back door to make sure it’s locked. When you come back, you see that Bucky took it upon himself to turn a few of the lights off and he hands you your purse.

“What a gentleman, huh?” He blushes and moves to open the door for you. You lock it up and turn to him.

“Does a walk in the park sound like a good idea?”

“Perfect.”

Since it was almost evening time, the park was not as busy. Bucky prefers it that way, and you do too. He’s so close to you, you can smell the little bit of cologne he must’ve put on. You want to tease him for it but decide not to. Instead, you purposely brush your hand against his own and Bucky immediately takes your hand in his.

“Maybe after this we could get dinner,” Bucky suggests.

“That would be nice. You can pick where.” Bucky thinks for a moment before responding.

“There’s this diner..a couple of blocks from your shop actually. It was there back in….you know.” Now that he’s thinking about it, he wasn’t sure you knew. He doesn’t wear gloves to hide his vibranium arm anymore and it’s an easy google search but you never showed any indication you knew about his past.

“I know about your past, Bucky. I won’t ask anything about it if-”

“No, it’s okay. I can talk about it.”

You nod. You're not planning to scour his brain about the haunting details of his life as the Winter Soldier, but you were curious about his life before that.

“Does it look the same as it did back then? The diner, I mean.”

“For the most part. There’s some newer technology in there and updated furniture but the style is all the same. It’s kind of nice to go somewhere familiar.”

The two of you walk over to an empty bench and take a seat. Your hands are still intertwined, resting on Bucky’s thigh.

“One more question about the 30s and 40s and then we can head on over to the diner,” you say, making Bucky laugh and nod his head at you to continue.

“How were dates back then? Like would you do the same thing we’re doing now or was there anything different?”

“It’s mostly the same,” he tells you. Bucky looks down at your hand, admiring how you rub your thumb against his hand.

“But there were these dances. I haven’t seen anything like them nowadays.”

“I think the closest thing we have to that is nightclubs. I’m gonna assume that is not your scene,” you say, giggling at his disgusted expression.

“It isn’t. I like forties music. I tried to listen to newer stuff and it’s not all terrible, but still not my favorite. I don’t think anyone in a nightclub will play Tommy Dorsey or Dinah Shore.” You ponder that for a moment as he turns to observe what else is going on in the park.

Quickly, you take out your phone.

“What are you doing?” All you do is smile at him, setting your phone down on the bench and standing up in front of him. He raises an eyebrow suspiciously as you hold your hand out.

“Mr. Barnes, can I have this dance?” Bucky takes a look around. There were a few people around who seemed to not take notice of the music coming from your phone.

“Gladly,” he accepted, taking your hand. Bucky placed one hand on your hip and pulled you in closer to him.

“I must admit, I know this was my idea, but I don’t know how to dance,” you whisper to him. Bucky shakes his head, smiling so wide he thought his mouth would start hurting. He slowly moves his feet side to side.

“Just this is fine,” he mutters. He tries not to take his eyes off yours, but you’re so close and Bucky can’t help but look at your lips, slightly parted and letting out deep breaths. He moves your hand rest on his shoulder, both of his own now holding your hips.

You trail your fingers from his shoulder to behind his neck, clasping your hands there.

“Thank you for this,” Bucky says and he hums along to the song playing, ‘Be Careful, It’s My Heart’ by Frank Sinatra. You smile at it, so he keeps humming. Bucky leans his forehead against yours.

“I know it’s not perfect-”

“Doesn’t matter. It’s with you. And this is...it’s nice.” You feel like your heart is going to burst. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips and Bucky leans in.

As his lips ghost against yours, you move your head, so he ends up kissing your cheek. He pulls back, a confused look on his face.

“Save that for the end of the date, honey,” you tease, leaning up to kiss his cheek. You linger your lips against his skin before moving away from him and his scoff turns into a laugh.

“I’m holding you to that,” he says, biting the inside of his cheek.

“I hope you do” you mumble and Bucky pulls you in close to him, making you squeal. He twirls you and brings you back into his arms, his lips touching the top of your ear.

“Let’s go get some dinner now.” You nod and grab your phone, opting to let the music keep playing. Bucky doesn’t hesitate from telling you random music facts about the artists as you make your way to the diner.

And as you ramble on about your own favorite singer, Bucky thanks the heavens that he took a chance on you and that it was going better than he ever imagined.

[djarinsbeskar]

PREQUEL ARC: PART 2 - THE HOUK

A/N: Part 2 is here! First and foremost, can I just say thank you so much for the reception Part 1 received and to those who (gasps!) actually want me to tag them for updates??? I don’t know how to react??? I’m so touched??????? It’s so motivating and has reminded me why I love sharing my scribbles!

There’s a greater focus on world/character building in this chapter so if it feels a bit rambling or description heavy, I do apologise! Like I said, I’m trying to build some context to the reader-insert before we get to the smut, and I hope that I’ve kept her general enough that she doesn’t cross the line too much into OC territory and becomes unrelatable. As always, constructive criticism is welcome! My style of writing leaves much to be desired so I would love to know if something doesn’t make sense so I can improve and fix it. But enough of that, on with the show!

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 5.2k

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: Language and slight injury detail.

Plot: You encounter Mando suffering one misfortune after another.

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

8 ABY, Mynock, Dandoran.

The second time you met him, he had dislocated his shoulder after a nasty clash with a Houk.

Your dealing with the Mandalorian on Klatooine had moved to the back of your mind and you rarely, if ever, thought about it. It was merely another encounter with a rough character that needed some medical attention. You wouldn’t have been able to hazard a guess at how many similar characters you saw in a week while you worked at the clinic. Even more so when you’d left Klatooine after becoming disillusioned that the New Republic were actually trying to make a difference.

You had heard stories from the Core and Mid Rim planets. Stories of the investment and progress being made to rebuild after the tyranny of the Empire, of the billions of credits being poured into the development of new ship building centers on Corellia and large, extravagant residencies for government members on Coruscant. Things, you were sure, that were not actually urgent necessities as they were desires. Especially given that the funds you received from that same government to sustain the clinic thinned before drying up completely a few months after your encounter with the Mandalorian.

…Hemorrhaging more credits than is justified for the benefits we’re seeing in return.

The busybody politician with a colorful title and even more colorful robes waxed poetically, hiding the sentiment of disinterest in ways only a politician could. Half-heartedly trying to distract you by his explanations with empty praise and gratitude for your service during the Rebellion and your humanitarian work now, a true embodiment of what the New Republic stands for. He crowed like the colorful bird he looked like, dressed as he was with fine feathers lining the lapels of his robes.

You bristle at the memory of the hologram’s eyes flickering to look at anything besides you, running down the time you had spent weeks trying to get.

That was when the memory of the Mandalorian surfaced, surprisingly. How the day after you treated him you arrived at the medical center and saw  a familiar pouch of credits sitting innocently behind the check-in desk. When you enquired with the receptionist, she told you it was sitting there once she opened up earlier that morning. The only note left being on one of the datapads behind the desk, the scrawling font reading; to help with your work. You had let out a chuckle to yourself as you checked your schedule, wondering if the brutish male you had treated last night really was as cold as he portrayed himself to be.

The memory had incited a righteous anger that a bounty hunter was more willing to support a voluntary clinic than the government that set it up in the first place was.

I thought the Empire were the ones who put a credit limit on what a life is worth. You had hissed in return, interrupting what you were sure was a well-rehearsed and well used speech, before hanging up. You pressed the heel of your hands into your eyes, taking a shuddering breath as you tried not to be nihilistic in thinking that you had spent nearly half your life thinking you could make a difference, when, you were just serving the Empire in different clothing.

It wasn’t a fair comparison; you knew the New Republic was neither as cruel nor as tyrannical and oppressive as it’s predecessor, but you had been made so dreadfully aware that in places like the Outer Rim, people would always be overlooked by those in power because they simply didn’t offer enough to be worth looking at.

The realization was a raw wound to your soul. You had lost brothers and friends to the fight for liberation, but it didn’t seem as though the grass was much greener on the other side. Maybe elsewhere in the galaxy it was, but where you were needed most, the grass was dehydrated and dying under the relentless sun.

With the clinic penniless, your meagre pension from the Rebellion was not nearly enough to keep it functioning. Add to that the reluctance of the other medics to run the clinic alongside you out of their own pocket and the intergalactic beacon for medical aid that alerted anyone in the parsec of where to go being disengaged, traffic stopped. The native Klatooinians preferred their own healers and very rarely, if ever, sought out medics from the New Republic.

For the first time in your life, your path wasn’t clear. If you even had a path anymore.

That was how you found yourself on Dandoran, flying off a week after the last of the medics left Derelkann to the first planet that was habitable to humans. But by the Maker, it was even rougher than Klatooine. The temperate climate and lush greenery were more comfortable for you, but the city you found yourself in, Mynock, was to say the least, undesirable. Having once been Hutt Space, there were still several illegal operations active that kept the city going and you learned early on what areas to avoid and to always carry a blaster with you. But at least where there was activity, there was work for you.

***

You met Biran Sonter the very day you arrived, asking directions to the nearest medical facility, hoping they could use another medic. He was an elderly Mirialan male with a wealth of history behind him, his facial tattoos creased with deep wrinkles and a kindly smile that reminded you of your grandfather.

You were flabbergasted to learn that during the time of the Galactic Republic, he acted as the royal physician to the palace on Naboo.

As you choked on the tea he had kindly made for you at that revelation, you couldn’t ask him quickly enough how he ended up here? On an Outer Rim backwater skughole of a planet and his tale had been sobering. When the Republic first fell, anyone who did not immediately surrender to the rising Empire was terminated. Biran had, at the time, only heard word of the death of the beloved former Queen Amidala and blamed the Empire vehemently. Escaping on one of the last shuttles from the Mid Rim planet before legions of clones descended, he arrived on Dandoran where no one, not even the Hutts cared enough to notice him. All they knew, was that he was an excellent doctor who charged little for his services and kept to himself. That was good enough for them. While he treated a vast number of criminals ranging from thieves to bounty hunters, he was not wholly merciful. He somehow managed to avoid or talk his way out of treating anyone in the organized crime syndicates or known traffickers and killers. It may have gone against a physician’s code to do ones best to save every life, but he like many, made their own code in the Outer Rim.

You fell into a fast and easy friendship with the Mirialan after that, your similar histories of working in the medical field despite being decades apart giving you plenty to talk about. The practice Biran ran in Mynock was always busy and he was only too grateful when you offered to take the weight off his old shoulders and gradually, his clients began to expect to see you most of the day and Biran for a few hours in the early morning. You were never short on work between cantina brawls, accidents and the downright attacks that took place in Mynock and the next eighteen standard months seemed to pass in the blink of an eye, Klatooine a distant memory, as was the Mandalorian you met there.

The night you saw him again, was no different to any other you spent enjoying a quiet drink before heading back to turn in for the night.

You had been in the process of leaving the cantina, recognizing that the later it grew, the rowdier and aggressive the clientele became. You could handle yourself as well as anyone who made their home in Hutt Space, but you knew better than to be blatantly reckless when you were on your own. It wasn’t like you had the squadron you stayed with throughout the Rebellion for backup as you once did, and your closest ally would probably break in half if you pushed him too hard. So no, you were not staying late with Mynocks newest resident of a Houk warlord and the company he seemed to attract.

The Houk in question was a cruel and belligerent brute, a former local warlord by the name of Gappo Teff. His reputation for inflicting punishment disproportionate to any slight committed against him or the Empire was one of the many echoes of the former imperial rule that was still being felt in the galaxy nearly three years after its collapse.

The stories of the chokehold he held over Sullust would make even a hardened soldier’s stomach churn. How he managed to escape the liberation of the planet without being dragged to the noxious surface of Sullust to suffer for the pain he had caused so many, was a mystery. But there he was, sitting like a king in the cantina you found yourself in, bellowing laughter ricocheting obnoxiously throughout the space, not a care in the world that he was a wanted felon.  

It might have been to do with the fact that he was at least seven and a half foot tall, with a mass that could easily fit three of you side by side across him and still not be seen. It might have been to do with the cold, milky blue of his small eyes, sunk into a skull so large it could probably shatter ribs and rupture organs if one were to be headbutted with it. The last thing anyone wanted was those eyes focusing on them. It could have been the heavy artillery modified blaster he kept laying on his lap; the weapon more of a cannon for those of a more regular stature. Whatever the reason, very few bounty hunters and even fewer New Republic guards came to collect him. He was probably one of the most easily found quarries on all Guild registers and New Republic wanted lists and yet, he languished in Mynock as if the Empire had never fallen and his reign was still assured.

Making your way to the entrance, you came up short as someone walked in, your nose coming abruptly close to a reddish-brown durasteel chest-plate. Taking a step back, your eyes did a double take at the familiar unpainted beskar helmet. Subconsciously, you had stepped to the side, the Mandalorian continuing to walk without a word as if you hadn’t nearly walked into him. Mandalorians were a rare sight these days, so you could be forgiven for staring. Though, you were most likely staring for entirely different reasons compared to everyone else in the cantina.

The armor was the same, if not a bit more worn, as was the dark boiled woolen cape and pulse rifle strapped to his back. But it was the gait; how could someone walk both gracefully and arrogantly, almost cocky in his self-assurance that he was in control wherever he went. It explained why he was so determined not to let his injury be known by his walk the last time you saw him. Because you had seen him before, there was no doubt in your mind that this was the same irritable reek of a Mandalorian you met in Derelkann years ago.

He stood in the middle of the cantina, assessing the place as his helmet scanned the area. If you didn’t know any better, you say he was…

“Oh, you gotta be kidding me.” You muttered to yourself when the helmet stopped on Teff. When you said bounty hunters didn’t bother to come after him, you should have been more specific. Smart bounty hunters didn’t bother hunting Gappo Teff, which explained why the one you knew of was right there looking for him.

A choice lay before you. Leave now and lock your doors until morning… or wait. For what, you couldn’t be sure. But if the Mandalorian wasn’t killed tonight by Teff, he was going to wish he was with the injuries he would probably sustain.

You let your head fall back on your shoulders as you exhaled. Why were you so soft for lost causes and wayward souls?

The Houks bodyguards left much to be desired, crumbling to the ground before they had even drawn their blasters, smoke rising from the blaster wounds inflicted effortlessly by Din.

The bodyguards weren’t what worried Din. Their boss hardly needed protecting, and he wasn’t going to go down without a fight.

The groan and screech of the metal table being shoved away by Teff as he stood to his full height made Din grit his teeth, arms open as he boomed, “Ah Mando, I was wondering when you’d try your luck at me. Your reputation is becoming rather infamous throughout the parsec.”

A guttural, wet laugh left the purple skinned quarry as Din remained silent and kept his blaster aimed. Damn, but the piece of bantha crap was big. He quickly scanned his peripheral, but it seemed the residents of Mynock had more self-interest than to trade blaster fire over one warlord, the barkeep casually making his was into the backroom of the bar to keep out of harms way.

“Why don’t you hang up that Guild work and let me make you a better offer.” Teff boomed, taking a swing of his drink, streams of the yellow fluid running down the sides of him mouth as those frosty eyes stayed trained on the bounty hunter.

Din rolled his eyes behind his helmet; negotiations by the quarry were his least favorite reaction to being caught but he knew better than to think he had captured the colossal male yet. Until Teff was either dead or frozen in carbonite, he was a danger. Luckily, the orders were to bring him in dead or alive. Seems the New Republic were fed up with him still breathing. He couldn’t say he blamed them.

“No?” the Houk pushed when Din didn’t respond, “Too bad, you’d have made an excellent addition to my collection.” And with more speed than Din had anticipated from the large male, he charged.

You had the good sense to leave the cantina as soon as the first blaster shot was fired, pulling the hood of your dusty grey jacket over your head while you made your way back to the practice to gather a few things. Things that would be completely obsolete if he died but you wouldn’t think that far. You were a realist, not a pessimist. The Houk might have had the advantage of height and sheer strength, but the Mandalorian was quicker, possibly smarter, and decked with enough firepower to make a starfighter pilot drool.

So, you put the odds about sixty forty in favor of the Mandalorian. Not that you would ever tell him that.

Teff roared in anger as Din rolled out of the way again, shooting his grappling hook to latch onto the Houks shoulder and yanked hard enough to throw the male off balance. Despite his large size however, Teff was able to slide his foot back to catch himself, putting him in direct line with Din.

He was on his feet in no time as the Houk charged at him, lowering his head so that on contact, Din’s left shoulder was thrown back into the wall of the cantina. His breath left him as the impact winded him, a dull but growing pain throbbing from his shoulder before Teff’s vile breath permeated even his helmet and a large hand wrapped around Din’s throat. He could feel his feet leave the floor and the weight of his body pulling downward made the pressure on his windpipe all the heavier.

“Oh well, at least you tried.” Teff gloated, his head leaning closer as if to peer into the visor and that distraction was all Din needed to lift his hand and engage his flamethrower, engulfing the Houk in flames. Din gasped in a breath when he was dropped, the squeals of pain coming from Teff disconcerting as he staggered around the cantina, desperately looking for something to extinguish the inferno his clothing and more vulnerable tissue had become.

Din waited a few more measured breaths before lifting the blaster and shooting the quarry in the vulnerable side of the neck, satisfied with the resounding bang the body made as it fell to the ground, flames still burning bright until he picked up the half-drunk tankard on Teffs table to douse the fire lest he be completely unrecognizable upon delivery.

Din looked around, the cantina was empty; the silence suddenly deafening as he looked back down at the body.

Now, how to get him back to the Razor Crest.

Din sighed.

“We have to stop meeting like this.”

You held up your hands unsurprised when the Mandalorian spun on the ramp of his ship, blaster raised and aimed right at you. He tilted his head slightly, taking you in and you tried not to fidget under the gaze you could feel raking over you despite not being able to see his eyes. What you could see though, was how limp his left arm was hanging to his side.

“The demon medic from Klatooine.” He muttered, finally placing your face and lowering his blaster slowly while you lowered your arms.

“I’ll take that as a compliment.” You snorted before nodding to his arm, “And you’ll probably be calling me a lot worse when I tell you that that arm needs tending to.”

He shifted slightly, turning his body so you wouldn’t be able to see. You just crossed your arms across your chest and stared at him pointedly. He held your gaze and was still as a statue. You could play the silence game too if that was how he wanted to do this. It was only a matter of time before one of you broke and you weren’t the one with a dislocated shoulder, so you’d say that the odds were in your favor.

It seemed like time dragged on before, without saying anything, the Mandalorian sighed and turned towards the ship.

You bit down on a smile, but you could still feel it creeping upon your lips as you congratulated yourself on winning. Two nil, you tallied in your head, not bad girl.

The ship… well the ship was a fossil and that was being generous. But it was clean and obviously well taken of, if the tidy hull was anything to go by.

Apart from the charred corpse lying in the middle of course, but those were just details. Easily overlooked. The smell however… that was a different story, but you held back any comments. You still couldn’t fathom how he’d managed to drag a fully grown Houk through the town one-handed, but then you knew that the strength and discipline of the Mandalorians was unrivalled. He could have done it through sheer determination and honestly, you were lucky to have found him at all. But people in Mynock liked to talk, so following the rumors' had let you there relatively easy.

A sigh broke your train of thought, “Let’s get this over with.”

The warrior seemed resigned to his fate as he stepped over the corpse and you followed suit, mind instantly running through the correct procedure and treatment.

“We have to get the bone in the upper arm into the correct position before it slips back into joint, otherwise the force will just break your arm.” You explained as you moved to stand in front of the large warrior when he sat back on one of the many crates pushed against the wall of the ship. You could barely hear the short exhales coming from the modulator and you could only guess that he was holding back speaking, whether in pain or frustration that you had strong-armed him into accepting treatment again.

“But hey, look on the bright side.”

His visor tilted slightly to look at you.

“No droids needed.” You shrugged a shoulder and sent him a grin when he said nothing. When he looked away, you focused your attention back on the problem shoulder; it wasn’t immediately clear that it had been dislocated, the pauldron he wore hiding the jutting ball of the joint that was no doubt pressed uncomfortably against his flesh. What you could see was that his left side was hanging just a bit lower than his right, and the inability to move the arm was a dead giveaway.

“Are you just going to stare at it or actually do what you said you would when you barged onto my ship?” The rasp was closer to you as he turned his head, the rumble of his voice decidedly deeper than you remembered last time. Or perhaps it always had been, and you just hadn’t been paying enough attention, more focused on the very real threat of having a dead body on your hands as the poison spread. You rolled your eyes; or it was all the short and biting commands he only seemed to know how to give as opposed to actually speaking that made you forget the voice. The man could be attractive, if he wasn’t so frustrating.

“I can’t see it properly.” You replied, agitated with him again. He got under your skin too easily, and ruined your cool demeanor.

“You dealt with the problem just fine before.” He snapped back, pain making him cranky.

“You didn’t have a bone out of place last time!” You stopped yourself, sucking in a breath before releasing it to prevent yourself from snapping again.

“At least,” you bartered, “let me remove the pauldron. I can feel around the duraweave to get an idea. I won’t see any more of you than I did last time.”

He didn’t say anything again for a time and honestly, he was the slowest person you’d ever met at receiving emergency medical care. Half the men you treated during the Rebellion would yell until you’d taken care of the worst of their injuries before they even considered if it was what they wanted or not.

“Fine.” Was all he responded, making no move to remove the offending piece so you took that as your cue to feel around the curved metal cautiously, feeling where it attached to his duraweave and releasing it into your hands before placing it down on a separate crate.

“There, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” A warning growl echoed in the hull, turning you back to your task with a hum.

It seemed the joint had popped forward, no doubt from caving in as Teff collided with Mando’s shoulder. You leaned forward, your fingers feeling around the area as gently as you could while his breathing came out a little shorter. You sent him an apologetic smile.

“I’m going to have to ask you to stay still, okay? Usually I’d have someone to hold—”

“I can keep myself still, just do it.” He snapped finally, turning to look at you before he looked away again. You said nothing more as you took his gloved hand in yours, turning the forearm over and feeling the hand clench in yours when he hissed.

“Shh, nearly there.” You soothed, moving your hand under his elbow to lift it so it was aligned with Mando’s shoulder. You stood, keeping the arm in place and twisting yourself to stand facing his side.

You were definitely out to get him. There was no other explanation for why he only seemed to be seriously injured in your presence. Din tried to tell himself he was being over-dramatic and irrational, that you hadn’t even been on the same planet when he was injured the first time, but then you opened your mouth and he felt justified in his petulant thoughts.

“On three.” He heard you warn and all he could offer was a single nod; the sooner he got this over with the better.

“One…” You jerked the arm forward and slipped the joint back into place quickly with a sickening crack and searing pain took his breath away before it began to ebb immediately.

“DANK…. FERRICK!” Din yelled as his good arm reached across to grip his left, bending forward as he breathed through the flash of pain. You moved out of his way, waiting for him to look back up at you through the helmet, deep pants making his chest heave. You cocked your head to the side when his eyes found yours, a clear question there.

He groaned as he sat back, leaning his head against the hull, “It… doesn’t hurt as much anymore.” He admitted, thinking that the smile you gave him was somewhat worth the knock to his ego at having to admit such a thing in the first place. And like last time, before he could even worry about the concerning direction that thought had led to, you were fluttering about opening crates and bins as if you owned the place.

“What the hell—” he made to stand indignantly.

“Do you have any spare cloth?” You interrupted, “Your arm needs to be bound for a few days. If you have bacta it might reduce the healing time a bit but honestly, I don’t think dislocations can be rushed despite recent studies. Rushing back to heavily lifting or activity for at least six weeks is a sure way to hurt yourself again.”

You were rambling now as you set a pile of disused yet clean cloth you found on your lap, sitting across from him as he just blinked at this enigma of a woman. Giving him orders in his own ship, were you daft?

Your eyes sharpened and shot to his and he was suddenly glad you couldn’t see behind his mask. His eyes had widened guiltily at the thought that you had read his mind.

“You will do what you’re told, understand Mando?” You warned as your fingers tied a loose sling from strips of cloth you’d pulled apart without even having to look at it, deft fingers looping the material and strengthening it with several more layers woven in for good measure.

“If you insist on getting injured so often, you live with the consequences. And the consequences are doing what you’re fucking told and being happy about it, got it? Sulk if you want, so long as you keep the arm bound and don’t take on any jobs for at least two months.”

He opened his mouth a few times at the audacity, did she have a death wish? He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had spoken to him as if he were no more than a child and it made his blood boil. But just as quickly as the anger arose, it simmered as she muttered while watching her fingers tie off the sling,

“You don’t actually seem like a bad guy, and the galaxy can’t afford to lose anymore… not bad guys.” She seemed unsure of giving out even this level of praise but then again, she only had their first encounter to go by.

He grunted; not sure how to respond. And when Din was uncomfortable, he resorted to silence.

You got to your feet once the sling was suitably strong enough to support the weight of his arm without unravelling or breaking and you indicated to him, “May I?”

He jerked his head up in affirmation and you maneuvered the sling to sit correctly under his elbow and forearm, coaxing him to lift it slightly with a tap before you looped the tied end over his helmet, adjusting the length slightly to fit against him.

“You left Klatooine.” the statement rose from the warrior, his tone quieter than you’d heard him all day. Was he... trying to make conversation? Din told himself that it was merely out of curiosity from seeing you by chance on two totally different planets.

Blinking in surprise, you sat back on the crate in front of him, crossing one leg over the other and leaning back on one of your hands, “New Republic stopped funding the clinic and I realized that they’re all the same when it comes to the Outer Rim.”

He snorted in agreement, honestly, he wasn’t surprised to hear the New Republic had cut their losses on charity. It wasn’t in their nature to funnel money away from the Core planets.

“But it’s not all bad,” you continued, “I work with a doctor here. He’s old now so he should be enjoying his retirement. I’m kept busy and…”

He watched you while he waited for you to finish, surely there was more? But when you just shrugged and sent him a tight smile, he felt an uncomfortable niggle at the back of his neck, a familiarity that made him almost want to smile back even if you couldn’t see it. Almost. But not quite. He was unnerved at the… empathy he had for your situation. He too just… kept busy. It wasn’t towards any end beyond supporting the covert and the foundlings there. But for himself, he just kept working towards some translucent, non-existent goal, one job ended, and another began.

Something in your eyes told him you were doing the exact same thing. It unnerved him to think about.

“Echoy’la…” the word left him without knowing and you blinked,

“Hm?”

He shook his head and stood, grunting a bit at the ache in his shoulder when it jostled a bit, “Nothing. It seems I owe you my thanks again, demon medic.”

“I do have a name you know.” You snorted, letting the previous topic go as it seemed to just make him more awkward and grumpy than he already was. You packed away the medikit and replaced the unused cloth back where you found it.

“Somehow I don’t think it’ll be as fitting.”

“Whatever, sunshine.” You looked over your shoulder at him, the sling looking so out of place as he hooked a thumb in the utility belt he wore. It was amazing that he could still look as intimidating as he did. You gathered your things and started down the ramp leisurely. He followed you silently until he was standing at the entrance to the ship.

“Demon or not… thank you.” He called out as your feet hit the dusty ground of Mynock once again. You looked back over your shoulder and gave a single wave, calling something back to him that did make him smile behind his helmet this time.

As you disappeared into the streets of Mynock, he tested the name you had thrown back to him, rolling the syllables, and testing the vowels as he repeated it to himself.

Pity, he thought. He hated being wrong about anything, but somehow, your name was a much better fit than demon medic.

Not that he would ever admit that to you, of course.

Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel​ @sarahjkl82-blog​

[sunshineszn]

Beneath a billion stars

Pairings: Senku Ishigami x Villager!GN!Reader

Warnings: None

Word count: 945

Synopsis: Just a late night conversation between Senku and Y/N

A/N: Ahhh I’ve finally decided to finish this draft and actually post it. Will I actually become a fully fledged writing blog? Will I actually post consistently? Honestly idk. But please enjoy this (to anyone that actually sees it lol)  and my asks are open for any thoughts and comments. 

Also big thank you to @thebatwrangler and @minruko for taking the time to read this before hand!!

******************************************************************************

"Staying up late again tonight huh?"

The thatched roof of the observatory was spread wide open displaying the deep blackness of the night sky sprinkled with bright white stars. The moon shone a soft silver glow, bringing a softness to Senku's tired and worn out features.

"When you're planning to revive all of humanity, sleep doesn't exactly take first priority." He gives a small smirk, his striking red eyes never leaving his work table.

"Well it should otherwise how are you going to help when you're going to sleep just as much as the statues you're trying to save?"

You set down a tray with tea. A herbal recipe known to soothe and ease the mind passed down from generation to generation in the Ishigami Village.

Senku Ishigami.

When he had first appeared, there was a buzz within your small village about an unknown boy who mysteriously appeared beside Kohaku. Despite knowing Kohaku for her rebellious nature, you did not expect her to put blind trust in someone she had never met before enough to want to bring them to her village.

Having trained with her alongside Kinro and Ginro as a village guard, you had always thought that Kohaku had a fiercely protective nature. Uneasily penetrable to outsiders. So you had watched intently as Senku instantly gained Chrome's trust through what he had called "science"(but looked much like advanced sorcery to you) and later the brothers’ trust as well.

Still slightly suspicious of his origin, you kept your distance, protecting your village from the inside and outside watching as they worked tirelessly on their sorcery. On the day of the Grand Bout, when his name and plan to heal Ruri was revealed, an unfelt before sensation of respect and admiration had settled in you as you thought back to all the times you'd watch him dutifully carry out various tasks to try and meet his goal.

From then on, you had joined the Kingdom of Science in a bid to aid the ailing Priestess and much to the village's relief, Ruri became healthy again. However the growing threat of Tsukasa and Hyoga's forces crept nearer and nearer and Senku's nights were getting longer.

Which lead to where you are now, watching as Senku's long and thin fingers dusted with charcoal methodically scribbled and sketched his plans out. Numbers and various symbols which you could not understand were scattered across the fibrous makeshift paper.

Taking a quick look around you saw many of the new contraptions Senku had built or tried to build at the very least. It made you wonder about the world that existed thousands of years before yours. What were people like? How did they live day to day? Did others like you really exist on different lands but at different times?

Lost in your thoughts, you drifted over to the open side of the roof of the observatory and looked up at the sky. A deep sigh left your lips and at this Senku's fatigued voice kicked you into reality,

"Spit it out"

"What?"

"Whatever's on your mind. You've got that look on your face that you get whenever a ton of questions flood that head of yours"

You look back to see that he's stood up fully now. His body leaning on the table in front of him facing you with both of his bandaged hands laid out and holding up him up. His signature two strands of ombre green hair dangled loosely in front of his face, behind them the two cracks caused by his de-petrification lead down like lightning bolts from his forehead to his vermillion eyes which stared at you intently.

You had always thought that Senku was wise years beyond his appearance. Even in his time you figured that he was a genius know-it-all. Which is why he always seemed calm and collected during the execution of his plans. If one way didn’t work out he was quick to sketch a new path. This always left you in awe but this made you wonder how he could stay optimistic about his plans. Especially in a world like yours, limited to what nature has to offer. But what made really made you wonder...

“Do you ever miss what the world was like all those years ago?”

“Is that it? That’s a stupid question, of course I do. I miss indoor plumbing, my old room, actual normal tasting ramen....”

“Not like that! I mean...do you ever miss just...living?”

He stopped his rambling and frowned a little, shallow creases forming around his eyebrows as he paused to analyze his thoughts, a small hum vibrating through the room. Ever since Senku laid the heavy burden upon himself to revive humanity and build the world back up to what it once was, you had always thought about how he carried it on his back every day and not crack under the pressure.

 He walked over slowly around the table to where you are, the floorboards creaking slightly and stood next you but not looking at you. Instead he looked up at the sky, a slight smile with a twinkle in his eyes as he recounted his memories. You stood in a comfortable silence together, a cool breeze flowing between the both of you until he spoke softly,

“Yeah I do...but what I’m doing right now is ten billion times more entertaining than doing homework.”

“Home...work....what’s tha-”

He laughed to himself, “Don’t worry about it, just know that right now...life couldn’t be more exhilarating.”

You glanced over to see him looking ahead, a full mischievous smile plastered on his face as he visualizes all the challenges in his way.

Satisfied with his answer, you turn back to the stars and imagine what your life would’ve been like 3,700 years ago.

[dorotharry]

i want to write you a song

pairing: modern!bucky x singer!reader

warnings: nothing i don’t think just fluff eeeek (maybe mention of parents that have passed away) (ignore lack of capitals i wrote this on my phone)

blurb: where bucky has trouble dealing with his past and constantly feels he’s not good enough for reader. so her being a musician/singer she writes him a song.

a/n: i thought of this a little while ago but i decided to write it while i was bored on the plane. hope you enjoy :)

MY MASTERLIST

it had been a year for bucky. a year since losing steve and a year since the final battle.

after everything bucky was still plagued with nightmares. shuri had removed all the awful things hydra had put in his brain, but he still constantly felt shame and guilt for his past.

so when he met you 6 months after thanos, and coming back after the snap it had been hard for him to accept your love. and to realise that even through the nightmares and mental torture you still loved him.

unlike bucky you weren’t one of the lost. you had to live in a world for 5 years without many of the people you cared about.

you had always had a passion for music but in a time where the world was broken you turned to music even more. and even though it was a sad and hard time you had 3.5 billion less people that could want to be a musician and so people started to actually hear your music. most people turning to it for comfort.

you had always felt pain, even before the snap; having lost your family years beforehand. and so when anyone you had considered close left there was nothing left for you besides music.

when people actually listened, it made you feel like finally you had a purpose in the world.

in those 5 years you became a house hold name. so many people listening to your music which sang the words impossible to speak when most felt numb.

5 awful years went by, and finally the rest of the world came back after the final battle. you became even more of a well known name then as familys and friends shared your music with those they had lost to tell them what exactly had gotten them through. your music.

you felt honoured. and yet there was still a hole within you. a hole that had been there even before everything.

it was one day 6 months after everyone had returned when you had left your apartment in new york to get a coffee at your favourite local cafe. you had your usual cap and sunglasses on, in an attempt to disguise yourself.

without paying attention you swung the cafe door open hitting another customer with two coffees in hand, sending his drinks flying. like you he had a cap and sunglasses on.

“oh fuck, i’m so sorry” you rambled pulling your sunglasses off in hope he could see your sincerity. by now he’d removed his sunglasses himself but he was looking nervously at the ground.

“no it’s okay i shouldn’t have these on insid-“ his voice cut off as he looked up at you. “you’re (y/n).”

you sent him an apologetic look, but it quickly turned to a smirk. “that i am. and your bucky barnes. but no it’s my fault, i wasn’t paying attention.”

his gaze suddenly seemed more nervous again. “your one of the few people that hasn’t referred to me as the winter soldier” he spoke letting out a small smile.

you smiled back at his response. “why would i? anyway please let me buy you some new coffees” by now the staff had started cleaning up the mess sending you both glares.

“no you don’t have to i can get some new ones.” he responded shrugging.

“no no, it’s the least i can do bucky.” you responded giving him a big grin.

“fine” he finally sighed. “if you you insist,” his poker face turning to a smile.

you both walked over to the counter walking around the now clean but wet floor. you ordered yours and his drinks giving the cafe a $50 tip as an apology for messing up their morning.

while you were both waiting for your drinks you continued your conversation. “so how does the bucky barnes know who i am?” you asked wiggling your eyebrows as you emphasised his name.

his face blushed as he laughed at your expressions. “well my best friend steve listened to your music a lot when half the world was gone. myself included. and so he showed me it once i came back. thought i might enjoy the sadness of the music.”

you jaw dropped as you gasped. “you mean to tell me the captain america knew who i was?! that’s way more cool than you knowing who i am”

it was buckys turn to gasp. he placed his hand over his heart in a dramatic manner, “i’m hurt doll, truly hurt.”

your heart fluttered at the pet name he had just given you but instead of showing it you just stuck out your tongue in cheeky manner.

more chatting went on between the two of you until finally you got your order. unfortunately the perks of going to a very busy cafe.

you exited the warm cafe and were met with the cool winter air of new york. pulling you jacket in closer to yourself. your sunglasses already back on.

“now i don’t really know how to do this anymore. the last time i flirted was in the 1940s but i was wondering if i could get your number?” bucky asked cautiously. you could tell he was nervous.

your heart fluttered again. he wanted your number? you fumbled with your words. “y-yeah of course!”

his face fell slightly noticing your nervousness. “if you don’t want to give it to me don’t feel like you have to” he replied.

“no no it’s not that bucky. i just would never have thought someone as attractive as yourself would want my number.” your eyes fell the ground in embarrassment.

it was buckys turn to be surprised. “if anything it’s the other way around doll” he replied as he handed you his flip phone.

after you had given him your number you had continued to walk with him to the avengers compound. (for once not having anything on this morning). you had resisted the urge the entire time to make fun of his flip phone.

it didn’t take long for you to become attached to bucky as the months went on. much like he did with you.

you had begun dating a month in and would see each other as often as both your schedules would let you.

you had tried to keep the relationship hidden for a while. but it didn’t take long for the public to notice that ‘the winter soldier’ was dating the worlds beloved ‘(y/n) (y/l/n)’.

of course rumours spread and though both of you had anxieties that neither of you were good enough for the other. it was bucky who it affected more. constantly acting as if you would just disappear one day and he’d be left an empty shell of a person like he once was.

after around six months you had become so comfortable with one another. and so his insecurities were something you could never understand, having never endured what he had. to you he was the strongest person. to him you were the strongest person he knew.

it was your 5 month anniversary of dating coming up and though it was drastically important it meant a lot to you so you wanted to do something special. something to ease his insecurities so you did what you did best. make music.

you were in your apartment the only light around you being the glow of candles. just having finished dinner as you snuggled up to him on your couch.

you looked up to the beautiful man you felt honoured to call your own.

“i have a gift for you.” you spoke softly.

“oh yeah?” he smiled giving you a kiss on the nose causing you to blush.

“yep” you replied, “but i’m gonna have to go get it.” you jumped up out of his arms and he pouted as you ran off.

seconds later you returned with your guitar sitting back down next to him. he raised an eyebrow at this.

you gave him a kiss on the cheek and then leaned back again, “i wrote you a song to tell you just what i see from my eyes when i look at you.”

this caused bucky to blush but he stayed silent, encouraging you to begin.

and so you began to pick a simple and soft melody.

i want to write you song

one as beautiful as you are sweet

with just a hint of pain

for the feeling that i get when you are gone

i want to write you song

i wanna lend you my coat

one that’s as soft as your cheek

so when the world gets cold

you will having a hiding place you can go

i wanna lend you my coat

oh, everything i need i get from you

oh, and giving back is all i wanna do

i wanna build you boat

one that’s a strong as you are free

so every time you think

that your heart is gonna sink

you know it won’t

i wanna build you a boat

oh, everything i need i get from you

oh, and giving back is all i wanna do

you began to play a little interlude and bucky took that as his time to speak finally grinning, “i like the part about boats.”

you rolled your eyes. “shut up bucky i’m not finished” causing you to giggle as you began to sing again.

oh, everything i need i get from you

oh, and giving back is all i wanna do

i wanna write you a song

one to make your heart remember me

so anytime i’m gone

you can listen to my voice and sing along

i wanna write you a song

i wanna write you a song

as you finished the end of the song you suddenly felt very vulnerable. but once you looked at bucky all you saw in his eyes was admiration.

“bucky everything i sang then i meant, you truly are the strongest person i know. and i love you more than anything.”

he carefully took the guitar from your hands and placed it gently on the ground. grabbing your waist he pulled you close resting his forehead against yours.

“doll, if anyone is to say the words you just sang it should be me. i have lived in darkness for so long. and anytime i have felt the smallest amount of happiness it’s been taken from me.”

a tear fell down your face. you hadn’t known him that long but you knew he was your soulmate.

“i love you.” you whispered looking at his beautiful blue eyes.

“i definitely love you more,” he responded pulling you into a soft but passionate kiss.

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

The Revived - Chapter 22: Preparations

This is chapter 22 of the Dream SMP multichapter fic @dramaticsnakes​ and I wrote together! I hope you’ll enjoy!

AO3

Read in order (on Tumblr)

Characters in this chapter: Wilbur, Ghostbur

Word count: 3,093

Cw: pain, brief loneliness, implied derealization

Fic summary: Wilbur was alive, and it was such a magnificent feeling, that made his mind spark with anticipation. It didn’t take long, however, for Wilbur to realize that this new breath of life, was not just his own. An echo-y voice hides in the back of his mind, and before he knows it, the transparent version of him he saw at the endless train station, is a lot more ingrained than he’d expected him to be.

And Wilbur really shouldn’t care. Because he’d be damned, if he spent the life he’d awaited for so long, babysitting a lost cause of a ghost, stuck in the very same limbo Wilbur spent so long in. It was an even exchange, and one Wilbur wasn’t going to mess with. Why exactly he ends up setting out to get the ghost out of his mind, in order to save the both of them, however, is beyond him. And perhaps Wilbur’s past isn’t as easy to leave behind, as he’d hoped it would be.

Wilbur was somewhat thankful that the early morning interaction had been disheveled enough, for Wilbur not to have been asked to leave. It was kind of funny really, that even though Wilbur had been caught trespassing where he shouldn’t, the young boy had been far too distracted to kick him out. Far too confused and awkward. It seemed to be a general trend whenever Ranboo was talking to him.

Though perhaps Wilbur couldn’t act as if he was above that awkwardness, as he hadn’t even gotten around to asking exactly what kind of party it was. He assumed however, for natural reasons, that if it was a party for a toddler, presents for said toddler would be involved. Regardless, Wilbur didn’t think giving a present to a child would be looked down upon in any case. If anything, it might repair what he previously damaged. Even if it was an infinitesimal amount, it could still help.

“Oh oh oh! What should we get him?” Ghostbur asked excitedly, “What does he like? Red, gold, nether things, books…” He chuckled as he jokingly added, “Us! We could wrap ourselves in a present.”

Wilbur chuckled despite himself. “We could,” he said with a smile, feeling a bit of exhaustion dragging at him, but finding it easier and easier to ignore. “Let’s see if there’s anything we can use in these chests.”

Wilbur rummaged through them for a while, only managing to find four gold ingots that could perhaps interest the child. He briskly crafted them into a pair of gold boots that he figured would suit Michael’s size. He narrated the action to Ghostbur as he did it.

“They’re like rubber boots!” Ghostbur had commented excitedly.

“Mhm.”

“Oh, I have an idea!” 

“Shoot,” a smile lingered in his voice as he grabbed a dark gray satchel nearby. It was light-weight and durable. Perfect for a gift or two. He carefully put the golden boots inside it as Ghostbur rambled on cheerfully.

“So, hear me out. I’ve got the best idea ever in the whole universe. We should make him a card! He can hold and look at it, and you can be nice in it too!”

Wilbur walked downstairs, grabbing some sugar cane from the farm as he quickly pressed it into paper. A quill sat nearby as he picked it up. “Alright, so a simple message…” Wilbur’s voice trailed off.

“Okay, how about, ‘Oh, Michael, you are the most amazing person to exist and I hope you continue existing forever.’”  

Wilbur looked into the air as if he was on The Office. “Or we could go with something more general.”

“I gotcha! We can do ‘You are the most amazing person to exist and you are so cool that I hope you continue existing forever.’”

“First of all, I thought I said more general, not less.”

“I did make it more general! I removed Michael’s name from it.”

Wilbur facepalmed gently so it wouldn’t hurt Ghostbur. “I meant for it to be less… emotional? I don’t think that’s the right word, but I want the card to be neutral.”

Ghostbur hummed in agreement. “Okay. We can say ‘I feel neutral about your existence, but I do agree that you chose to exist at this current time, and by the way, you are also very cool.’”

Wilbur sighed, “I’ll take over the writing.” He narrated the words on the paper, “Dear Michael, The world will be at your feet someday! But for now, it's just these gold boots.” A smile slipped on his face at the words replaying in his mind in company with Ghostbur’s noises of approval.

“Oh can we do a drawing at the bottom? Michael likes drawings.”

Wilbur nodded, “Yeah, that’s a good idea.”

Ghostbur excitedly squealed, “Can we- oh my, I have so many good ideas.”

Wilbur chuckled, pleased to hear the ghost being his typical self again. “I can start with drawing Michael?”

Ghostbur clapped, “Yeah! And- and holding hands with him?”

“Sure, just give me one second.” He might have been a leader of a nation and a general for many soldiers, but Wilbur certainly was not an artist. He tried genuinely drawing a face, only for him to scratch it out and get a new paper out and transfer his original message onto it. Instead, he imitated Michael’s drawing style- stick figures. 

He drew playful lines across the bottom of the paper. He eventually formed a small stick person with little pig ears, a big smile, and black boots. He would have colored them, but he didn’t want to risk Michael eating the paper as he did just days ago. 

Next to Michael, he drew a slightly bigger person. Curly hair at the top and a rough trenchcoat around the body. He hesitantly finished the picture with a small smile on his own face. It felt a bit silly to draw like that. To be making a card for a child after everything, drawing handholding and smiles. Yet Ghostbur’s excitement was strangely infectious. It was sort of relieving in a sense, even if Wilbur wasn’t the type to fall for such bright positivity.

“Alright, the drawings are finished.” 

He was about to fold the paper into his pocket when Ghostbur called out, “Wait, did you put any stars on there?”

“No?”

“What kind of drawing is it if there’s no stars?!”

Wilbur sighed quietly as he quickly scribbled some stars in the corners. “Alright, I’m putting it away now-”

“Wait! Did you sign it?”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “I’m giving it to him. He knows it’s from me.”

Ghostbur pleaded, “But cards always look better if they’re signed. Just a quick, ‘Love, Wilbur and Ghostbur’ makes the card a thousand times better! No- a billion!”

Wilbur sighed as he remained frozen in place before the words settled in. His mind easily processed the ridiculous request, but not the fact that Ghostbur wanted to be signed on the card too. Wilbur should have probably assumed it, but the idea didn’t fully settle with him. “Alright.” The words were quiet as he quickly wrote down, ‘Sincerely, Uncle Wilbur’.

"Is there anything else I need to add?"

"Hmm, I don't think so."

Wilbur gently placed the card in the satchel as he quickly ran up to see the clock once more, but he slightly frowned to see the hour hand still lingering between the four and five. He brushed it off though. He could easily occupy himself anyway. His eyes glazed over the books on the table before he internally groaned at the thought of hitting the books once again. 

He walked over to the table, placing the satchel onto it, before grabbing one of the books before Ghostbur spoke, "Oh, we're reading again?" His voice sounded slightly dismayed.

Wilbur shook his head, "Nah, I'm just putting away some books." Ghostbur made a pleased sound  as Wilbur quietly pushed the leather-bound book back into its spot. 

He sighed quietly at the odd silence of the room. He focused on the ticking of the clock. It

was a nice sound to focus on. It was a constant reminder he was still alive. Even if he wasn't

the happiest in his position, he was alive. 

An alive man that was going to attend a toddler's party with a homemade card that had poorly drawn stickmen inside.

He exhaled sharply through his nose, as he finished putting some of the books away. Most of them held no useful information anyhow, and perhaps leaving them out would appear suspicious, should Tubbo return.

He wondered for a brief moment if Ranboo intended on telling Tubbo about Wilbur’s presence in the bunker. He imagined Tubbo insisting on having a talk as soon as Wilbur arrived. Prime, Wilbur despised talks. He just hoped the awkwardness of the interaction, and Ranboo’s apparent secrecy, was enough for Ranboo to leave it out.

Wilbur walked downstairs, finding that his leg had almost healed during his days in the bunker. He was going to harvest some watermelon, simply to pass the time. As he was about to do so, his eyes fell upon something dusty, peeking out of a chest he hadn’t bothered looking much at before. He knew what it was. He closed his eyes momentarily, to get a hold of his thoughts, before walking to the chest, and taking out a dusty mirror. 

He rubbed the shiny end of it with his sleeve. The mirror was still vaguely cloudy, but it still showed him nonetheless. Well- not exactly him, but rather his body. The man who stared back was nearly unrecognizable with gray bruises scattered along his face that easily complemented the bags under his eyes.

Complement was a rather strong word as all of his features seemed off-putting to him. His greasy hair hung close to his pale-ish skin. He squished his face with one of his hands, truly making sure that his reflection was his own. Of course, the mirror version moved along with him, but he strangely wished it didn’t. 

His mind drifted back to his encounter with Ranboo. Had they really intended on inviting Wilbur to the party in the first place? Or had that been done out of pity?

The only good thing about his reflection was that he couldn’t see the burns along his chin anymore. He touched it gently, finding the skin to be a little softer than before. 

He automatically put the mirror down as he headed towards the shower that laid in the bunker. He stopped two steps away as Ghostbur chimed in, “What time is it over there?”

“Oh… I don’t know.” He was pulled out of his thoughts quite easily as he stayed frozen in place.

Confusion laced Ghostbur’s voice, “You can’t check?”

Wilbur shut his eyes tightly for a moment before taking a sharp breath, “I could, but I have to ask you something.”

Wilbur despised the cheeriness in Ghostbur’s response. “Ask away!”

Images of Wilbur’s face flashed through his own mind as he hesitantly asked, “Alright, Ghostie, there’s not an easy way to bring this up.” Ghostbur hummed in acknowledgement, not wanting to interrupt Wilbur. Despite Wilbur not wanting to continue on, he forced the words out of him, “So- do you know what a shower is?”

“Yeah! It’s one of those plants on the ground with pretty petals.”

A dry chuckle left Wilbur, “No, that’s a flower.”

“Oh. Is it what Tubbo uses in baking?”

Wilbur sighed this time, “No, that’s wheat flour.” As Ghostbur was about to give another guess, Wilbur cut him off, “I’ll just tell you.”

Ghostbur sounded slightly dismayed at his refused answers, “Alright.”

“Alright. Alright,” the words were quiet in his mind as he forced himself back on track. “A shower is something people do to get clean. They use soap and… water to do this.”

“Aww, I was about to guess that too.”

“Right.” It was now or never. “I think I need to take a shower.”

“Okay!”

Wilbur furrowed his brow, “You’re… okay with me taking a shower? You know it’s going to require water, right?”

Ghostbur’s breath hitched at the realization. “Ah. I thought you meant soap or water.”

Wilbur exhaled, the tension flowing through his body. “Yeah.”

“So why do you need to take one? I know people in general do it, but you can explain to him that water hurts me.”

Wilbur shook his head, “He can’t know about you.”

Child-like curiosity filled Ghostbur’s voice, but it was slightly dimmer than what it should have been, “Why?”

Wilbur pursed his lips. It was too risky to describe in words. With how little trust Tubbo had in Wilbur, it would most likely foil their plans of Ghostbur’s escape. The suspicion and worry in Tubbo’s eyes wouldn’t temporarily go away at a joke. There wouldn’t be a moment alone with his thoughts as everyone whispered about the mind of his. They wouldn’t say anything bad either, just harsh truths that hurt more than he’d like to imagine. The truths he thought he could escape by finishing his unfinished symphony. 

Wilbur’s failed nation transitioned to a mind that couldn’t go a day without the desperate need to talk to someone again. The need for someone to reassure him he was alive and he wasn’t imagining something in the train station again. He was quite imaginative in there. He made fantasy worlds with so many new people, but at the end of the day, he imagined Tommy by his side laughing or cooking breakfast with Tubbo again. 

On the rougher days, he would imagine Fundy there. Sometimes he talked about his problems to him, only to cry harder when he remembered his son wasn’t actually there. Or he would imagine Niki running a hand through his hair, telling him all the things he needed. He’d been without that real warm touch for thirteen years that holding himself made a shaky sob leave. It had been pathetic of him to imagine such things, but the silence got to you after a few years, after he had spent a long time growing bitter. No one could see him anyway, so maybe it hadn’t counted at all, as he thought about those potential blissful moments.

The moments he never got. Perhaps he was still at the train station after all, the slight buzz of the lights being the only noise he could hear. No one laughed with him when he came back. The most he got was a dry chuckle that he happened to witness. There was no one to hold or listen to him. Not a single person smiled at his return. He was alone in the train station he thought he escaped days ago.

Tears blurred his vision as he wrapped his arms around himself. He pushed his body against a wall as he slid down it. The gray wall that accompanied the gray floors and flickering fluorescent lights. The tunnel that didn’t stop seemed to stop his mind. It blocked him in every direction that led to happiness before his murmuring thoughts entered.

It took a moment to realize it wasn’t his thoughts, but rather an echoy version of them. “Wilbur? Is everything okay?”

Wilbur swallowed back a cry. “Yeah,” his voice shook for a moment as he tried to breathe normally. “Sorry I spaced out for a second.” There wasn’t a train station. He wasn’t back there. He was in the bunker. “What were you saying?”

Ghostbur quietly answered, “Nothing. Oh- earlier you said you wanted to take a shower?”

The words brought Wilbur back to a more tangible reality. “Right…” he said with a nod, pushing himself up from the ground, his posture wavering slightly. He swallowed something in his throat. “Are you… Are you okay with that?” he quickly added, “I’ll make it as brisk as I can I promise! It’ll mostly be to wash my hair, and to look and smell just a little more presentable.”

Ghostbur had very little reason to trust him. Wilbur was incredibly aware of that at this point, his promises losing all meaning at his forgetfulness, or plain dishonesty. “Of course. Just- Just don’t take too long please.”

“I won’t,” Wilbur said. “I promise,” he repeated, trying to add as much weight to the words as he could. Engrave them, so his mind wouldn’t drift away from it. To keep his mind from drifting away in general.

Gently he put his clothes aside, placing the familiar old trenchcoat and blouse in a little pile. He had associated the outfit with himself for so long, that looking at it apart from him, was almost surreal. Slowly, he walked into the shower. He put the temperature to be as cold as he could, unsure if there would even be hot water in a bunker like this. It would serve as a good reminder that he should make this quick. “I am going to turn it on now. It’ll… It’ll probably reach my entire body.” 

“Okay…” Ghostbur said. Wilbur caught himself missing the excitement from when they were making the card together. Frivolous. 

He placed his hand on the shower knob and turned it, careful not to let his hand too much under the water. It proved to be a rather needless endeavor though, as his face and body were immediately drenched in cold water. He immediately shivered from the feeling as he felt his movements become jittery and robotic. He heard hurried breaths from his mind, and whimpers of pain, though it was surprisingly silent this time around.

Wilbur let his hand through his hair, massaging his scalp. He grasped some soap next to the shower, and mixed some into his hair and on his body, quickly using the water to wash it off. His heart was beating fast, as he rushed to turn the knob once more, some soap still lingering on a few strands of hair. He bolted to the other side of the room, to dry all the remaining water off with a towel, almost as if the uncomfortably cold water was burning him too. The second he could no longer find a drop he let out a few breaths. “There we go. Done.”

Ghostbur took a moment before he replied, his own breathing calming down as well. “Okay… Okay, that’s good! T-thank you.”

Wilbur cringed slightly at the gratitude, not entirely certain what he was being thanked for. “Of course,” he said quietly, his breathing quite obvious and echo-y in the empty room. He suddenly realized that he missed the ticking of the clock. He shook his head, and put on his clothes again, unsure if the warmth they brought was comfort or something that settled heavier in his chest. He didn’t have time to dwell on it.

He walked out of the room, grabbing the satchel with Michael’s present in it. He glanced at the clock once more, finding that it was only around 5:30am. He stood in the middle of the bunker for a good minute, closing his eyes tightly, and holding on to the sound of the clock. When he opened his eyes once more, they settled on the potions he brewed over the past few days. There weren’t many, but they comforted him nonetheless. He absent-mindedly packed three strength potions into the satchel, perhaps planning on giving some to Tubbo and Ranboo as a gift. 

Then, with determined steps he started walking towards the exit. It felt as if a weight was slightly lifted as he walked out the bunker, though he had grown so used to the weight that he wasn’t sure if that was comforting to him or not. Once he found himself in Pogtopia, he decided to focus on the ground beneath his feet, rather than the buttons lining the walls.

When the sun reached Wilbur’s face, the rays seemed to make his vision less blurry in a sense. The darkness that was so welcoming before, and still called to him, was shoved away in favor of the sunrise.

He remembered right then, when he had declared the first sunrise he saw when he returned, his sunrise. A reminder of life, and opportunity. He stared at the bright sky for a little while. Gently, he placed the satchel on the ground, the glass bottles quietly clinging against each other, and sat down in the grass next to it. He breathed the air into his lungs, as his shoulders untensed. He watched the sunrise intently, as he waited for the party to approach.

[thebeautyoffanfics]

ah thank u!! i was wondering if you could write a amane yugi found family fic with a gn!reader if that makes sense :]

(platonic) amane yugi and gn!reader

a/n: of course!! I think it makes sense, so I do hope I do this right! It wasn’t really specified, so I just sorta,,, started writing, and kept found family in mind? So I really hope it’s alright- Thank you so much for requesting, I’m genuinely so sorry for the time this took, and I hope you enjoy!! :D

(YOOOO GUESS WHO HAS A COMPUTER AGAIN!!! I'm unstoppable, babyyyyy, and am determined to get the requests done as quickly as I can-!!)

warnings: none?

word count: 872 (the angsty bonus bit is 270)

Amane understood what it was like to be a bit… indifferent to your family? He couldn’t be sure whether your relationship with yours was any similar to his, unless you told him first, but he did know one thing. For the most part, you were more like his family than his blood family.

He loved his family, sure. He had a decent relationship with his family at one point. Unfortunately, that point felt like it was forever ago. It mainly started when his brother went missing, he thought, but… upon the return, Amane really began to wonder if his brother being gone was better. It was cruel, yes, but whatever creature was posing as his brother was more so. Between his distressed parents, and that strange look in “Tsukasa”’s eyes, Amane was certain he was beginning to much prefer you. No, it wasn’t beginning… from the moment the two of you became friends, he was able to find comfort in you. Amane could only hope he provided you a similar sense of comfort, but- judging based on how you came to him just as often as he did to you- he liked that he could assume so.

You smoothed your shirt down, glancing over at Amane. “You should have told me you were coming,” You muttered, walking over to him, and laying down. Your parents were away, and both you and Amane knew they’d be gone for a while. That’s one reason you were so comforted by him… even if your parents weren’t, Amane was always around.

“Should I have? It’s not like I usually do,” He responded lightheartedly, not taking his eyes off of the stars. So, you did the same. Your eyes traveled upwards, as you took a moment to admire the sky. Amane had told you many times to just look up- every night, if you take a moment to think about the stars, your worries feel a lot smaller. You feel a lot smaller.

“Hey, what’s that one?” You questioned after a moment, tossing your hand up and pointing at some random star. You were doing it on purpose- wanting some sort of reaction out of him. His knowledge on the stars seemed endless- it amazed you. Capturing your attention, as it would most younger siblings. Sitting and listening to someone who was like your older brother, letting him ramble as he pleased. Maybe it was boring at times, but Amane let you ramble about whatever you wanted, so you could do the same for him.

Moments passed, as Amane spilled every little fact he knew. Perhaps he didn’t know as much as a professional, but he still knew so much more than you did… It was cool. How did he know that much about a little burning ball in space? There were billions. For a split second, you wondered if anyone would care to know as much about you as Amane did the stars- but the thought was crushed by Amane adding something a bit off topic.

“Anyway… maybe we should go inside? Mom got dinner, so I brought you some. I wasn’t sure what you had in the house, and cooking’s a pain.”

That’s right… Amane cared.

“Ohhh, alrighty! Thanks, haha- honestly, I was probably gonna procrastinate cooking until the last minute, so I appreciate it.”

The two of you made your ways off of the roof, and inside your house. As if it was his home- and, by this point, it very well could have been- Amane walked into the kitchen, unpacking two little boxes. Put them both in the microwave, setting a time, then glancing over at you.

“You didn’t eat at home?” You questioned, not wanting him to feel pressured to explain, but wanting him to feel welcomed to share.

“Meh, at this point, I can’t tell whether or not mom really cares. She’s on-board with me visiting you so you don’t get lonely, and making sure you eat, and whatnot. Aside from that, I… I dunno, the house feels more weird than welcoming. You’re family enough, ehehe.”

“Hm, the only weird thing now is that laugh,” You joked, opening the microwave a second before it beeped. “Sorry though. I really do hope things get better. I’m sure they will!”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry. You don’t need to apologize,” Amane ruffled your hair lightly, causing you to swat at his hand in annoyance, “Thanks though. Whatever has to happen is going to happen, I guess…? And what needs to happen now is dinner.”

You laughed at that comment, taking the box he offered you, and taking a seat at the coffee table in your living room.

Amane tossed you the remote, then sat next to you, letting you turn on a show the both of you found interesting. The only sound coming from either of you was the sound of eating, as the TV’s noise filled the room. Yes, these nights were your favorite. They were both of your favorites. When the two of you didn’t have a real family, you had each other… These simple things really were what made a family. Dinner and TV, a comfortable silence between the two of you, and both of you perfectly content with that.

BONUS LITTLE,, ANGSTY BIT. Anon didn’t request this, so don’t feel obligated to read it- I just felt like angst <3 feel free to consider this just… an alternate end. Amane doesn’t have to die in the main bit <3

WARNINGS: mention of death + suicide, vomit, pain-

“Amane… is dead?” You muttered, staring at the flowers sitting on his desk. The same flowers rested on his brothers’. Tsukasa had caused Amane distress… right now, you couldn’t help but focus on the death of your best friend.

“Did you not hear? Apparently, he killed Tsukasa, then,” Your classmate motioned crudely, dragging a finger across their neck to indicate his death, “offed himself.”

You were going to be sick. You were. You were sick- clumps of your breakfast splashing against the floor beneath yourself. This wasn’t right. It wasn’t right.

Unable to control your actions, you ran out of the room, practically collapsing outside of the school. You wanted to run away. Yet, there was no escaping it.

“It’s a lie,” You muttered, tears spilling down your face. “They’re lying.”

Your heart ached worse than you thought it ever could. Amane couldn’t kill anyone- Amane couldn’t be dead. You sobbed, fists balled up as you let out all of the grief that was rapidly building up.

Students looked your way, several rushing to grab teachers. Before the day could even start, it was over. Going home sooner than you expected to like, with words you never wanted to hear ingrained in your mind.

Upon your return, some time later- giving you barely enough time to learn what you could (though you still couldn’t process it), you heard mutters. Little whispers- rumors floating around.

“Have you heard the rumor…? Apparently, there’s a ghost in the girls’ bathroom on the third floor. It says, she’ll grant your wish- for a price, that is.”

[mccall-me-maurice]

A new list of headcanons for the updated AU

Lotf headcanons

Jack:

Jack is Ralph’s academic rival and also head of the debate team. He spends the weekends at his father’s business, learning how to run the company. On the Saturday nights, he goes to an underground club in a fight ring thing. Nobody knows he does it, even though Ralph also spends time there.

Jack is dyslexic and has minor and manageable OCD, denying using extra help for his dyslexia in classes.

Comes from a wealthy family with 6 siblings, his father divorcing his mother and marrying his step-mother who he pushes away because he’s angsty and shes “not his real mother.”

Loves 80s music so much, he’s a nerd for it.

Sings in the shower/bathroom like into a hairbrush in front of the mirror in his little towel like a nerd but he’s actually really good at singing.

Wears his uniform extremely sharply and very crisp like why so much effort.

He has hearing loss due to an accident in his childhood and he’s fluent in ASL, but doesn’t wear his hearing aids almost ever.

Ralph:

Ralph is fluent in violin, he’s actually really good at playing, he was also an ocean lifeguard and saved Jack’s life when he got caught in a current.

He wears thick framed glasses to read and has really swoopy handwriting thats illegible because it’s like messy calligraphy.

Ralph dives as a hobby and is so good at it, like scary good at diving perfectly.

He has beauty marks on his face that he lets people trace sometimes, ink usually adorning his cheeks.

Very French, extremely French. Fluent in the language.

Draws on his hands with different coloured pens and the designs are always so intricate like a mandala colouring book.

Also draws on the cuffs of his jeans and the rubber edge of his sneakers all the time.

Blushes very easily, will go red in a matter of seconds flat either when he’s flustered, embarrassed or angry.

Brothers with Robert.

Simon:

Spends all of his out of school time in his mother’s flower shop and can recite the meaning of most flowers if you ask him. His fingers are all bandaged up because of how much he cuts himself with knives when he’s removing stems or clippers.

He has epilepsy and faints frequently.

Is a fan of older musicals, like Grease, Dirty Dancing and Hairspray and makes the choir watch them with him.

Rarely spends time indoors, Simon is usually out biking around the neighbourhood or walking around with his friends from school.

Will paint rocks and gift them to people when he thinks they’re upset. Also does face painting at the school carnivals, because he never minds being alone in a booth when there is nobody there.

Speaks softly and is usually ignored in favour of people with louder opinions, but he’s usually right.

Roger:

His biological family died in a house accident, the only thing surviving being him and his cat Nastya, who he loves more than anything. Because of his parents death, he taught himself the rest of the Russian language, which they were already teaching him along with English. However, his heritage is East Asian and Russian.

He pierced his lip by himself, and even though it turned out fine, he got his ears done professionally.

Not very affectionate and will push people away, distancing himself because he doesn’t like the idea of anyone being close to him and get under his skin.

Dyed the back part of his hair on a whim and just liked it enough to keep it as a style.

Spends nights at Simon’s place instead of his own, finding more comfort in Simon’s house.

Sam:

Comes from a German family, but knows German, Italian and English.

He hates birthdays because he doesn’t understand why they are so important.

Hates social interactions and actively avoids them with a passion. He gets extremely nervous and just leaves abruptly when he gets too overwhelmed.

Younger than Eric by 6 minutes, which he routinely gets teased for.

Into super cheesy romantic movies because he loves the idea of a happy ending despite not having one himself.

Messes with his hair when he’s anxious, so it’s constantly messy and mussed.

Mega nail biter when he’s nervous.

Cousins with Jack.

Maurice:

Heavily touch reliant and when his friends don’t show him physical affection, he assumes the worst and gets very upset.

Heavily Italian, like so fucking Italian. His family hardly speaks English and he learned most of his from school.

Very passionate about science despite most people thinking he’s an idiot. He has some of the highest marks in his class.

Messes with things when he’s talking or uses hand gestures. Like if there’s a pen, he’s clicking it because it helps him concentrate.

Maurice has like a billion flannels and hoodies he just cycles through and it looks like he doesn’t change but no, it’s just that he owns a gazillion grey hoodies

His older sister when to an Ivy League school, so he owns a lot of stuff from it that he wears like sweaters or ball caps.

Eric:

Very sarcastic. his entire sense of humour is him bathing in his own sarcasm. It’s actually pretty well timed and kind of funny how he’s able to deadpan his jokes.

Very easily picks up on languages. He’s fluent or close to fluent in German, English, Italian, French, Spanish, Japanese and partly fluent in Korean.

Really enjoys computer science and plans on doing it for a living. He stays up late at night to work and sleeps until like midday.

Doesn’t acknowledge other people’s emotions very often because he doesn’t realise when he’s gone too far, but still feels bad for others when they’re hurt.

Jack’s favourite cousin because they’re cynical buddies. Jack is overly protective of him even though Eric is perfectly capable.

Robert:

Brothers with Ralph and is very protective over him. Has absolutely slandered choir members before for hating on Ralph.

Shares a dad with Ralph but has a different mom, who he visits over the summer and sometimes during the holidays. That’s where he gets his Spanish roots from, which is a language he’s fluent in. He has 7 siblings on that side of his family.

Adores burnt popcorn and burnt anything. If he can burn it, he will.

Works as a mechanic in his free time and built the car he shares with Ralph.

Sci-Fi nerd, specifically Star Wars. He loves the movies and watches them like every day.

Extremely talented artist, Robert sketches anytime he has a pencil and paper.

Peter:

Was bullied in the past but doesn’t let the words bother him anymore. It mostly stopped around high school.

Works with his auntie in the sweet shop and brings his friends food for them to taste test.

Used to be a boy scout, so he can tie any knot you want him to, it’s really a gift.

Gets very cold very easily, especially his fingertips. He usually has a pair of gloves on him for when it gets really bad.

A Mathlete for most of his time in high school, obviously is extremely intelligent.

Double knots his shoelaces so they���re extra secure.

Bill:

Swedish, and really enjoys his own culture. He will spend HOURS rambling about it and how much he loves it.

Watches Avatar the Last Airbender and has the biggest crushes on Sokka and Zuko.

Also is a sucker for people who wear glasses, he really loves them.

Works at the library despite not liking books, he finds comfort in shelving them and the order they go in.

Puts little umbrellas in every single drink he has, it doesn’t matter what it is.

Writes notes to himself on sticky notes because his memory is horrible.

Sets at least 5 alarms because 1 will not wake him up by itself.

Harold:

Can speak limited Spanish due to his schooling.

Likes singing, but never really got into it like some choir members because he has stage fright.

Powerful speaker when he wants to be, but is usually too nervous to say anything.

Has no idea how to tie a tie, so he lets other people do it for him.

Sometimes take sarcastic comments seriously and ends up confused.

A really good actor and loves the performing arts.

Has extremely clear skin, he never gets any blemishes.

Wilfred:

Dyed his hair because his naturally brown hair reminds him too much of his father, who he hates.

Has 4 tattoos in total, the 4 card suits on his cheek, a half sleeve of roses, a bow and olive branch on his inner forearm, and the solar system on his outer forearm.

Very flirtatious to people he doesn’t really like but gets nervous around those he does.

Hold grudges really well.

Has shockingly neat handwriting.

Has a pretty horrible home life but he never talks about it to anyone because he doesn’t want to be perceived as weak or incapable.

Colours with only crayons.

Percival:

Cries easily, as he’s very emotionally driven and is typically teased for being a crybaby or told to “toughen up.”

Absolutely has the worst sleep schedule ever, he gets 3 hours and calls it a win.

Can’t sleep without a nightlight on in his room.

Enjoys writing things down in this notebook instead of on his phone because he likes the feeling of physically using pen and paper.

Sends letters to people all the time instead of messaging.

Good at sewing, he makes his own Halloween costume every year by himself.

Hates horror movies because he’s spooked easily.

Max:

Lived through a house fire when he was younger, so he has burn scars all over his arms.

Is afraid of cooking due to the fire and will go without eating if he has to touch the stove to make food.

Laid back most of the time, but can reach a snapping point in which the emotion is amplified. (like sadness or anger)

Loves swimming, it doesn’t matter where he does it, he just loves to swim.

Is very time sensitive and has to get places early or directly on time or else he gets anxious.

A very fast reader, typically long books take him 2-3 days to get through.

Johnny:

Worries a lot, he usually sees the worst in every single situation.

Is a trans male (Ftm) and was accepted by his entire family when he came out.

Owns a St. Bernard named Dolly who is the sweetest dog ever.

Spends a lot of time outdoors, he still plays as if he is a child.

Also enjoys the snow a lot because he’s fond of building snowmen with the kids on his street.

Has very sensitive skin and eczema, which he doesn’t like to talk about or show anyone because it makes him feel insecure.

Oddly good at playing guitar, he just picks up on chords with ease.

Walter:

Good at playing the drums and annoys his entire family with it.

Uses a skateboard as his main method of transportation around places.

On the basketball team, as his older brother taught him to play when they were both younger.

Hates roller skating despite being very good at most things on wheels. He can never find his balance.

Shockingly good at Math, especially statistics and calculus. He’s in all advanced math courses.

Has a very weird snake addiction and he desperately wants to buy one.

Henry:

Aromantic Asexual who is best friends with Harold and Wilfred.

Mainly makes snippy remarks because his humour falls into the sarcasm umbrella.

Adores comic books and superheroes, specifically Marvel ones because he’s a fan of Dare Devil.

Plays baseball in his free time but hasn’t joined a team, he just plays with the boys in his neighbourhood.

Addicted to the High School Musical movies.

Good at painting people’s nails and will do it for them if they ask.

Has really fluffy hair that he lets people touch and play with.

[buryyourfavouritestrope]

Would you come to my funeral? - Arima Kishou

Author Note: Have i ever mentioned my joy for writing angst and attempting to be funny because my personality permits me to not feel things without following up with comedy. Anyway more Arima because I can’t get enough of this character

An innocent question, once floated between two people, now stood as a daunting reminder. Back then it hadn’t held much meaning, just a light-hearted question spoken in the shadows of the evening silence. Neither of them had been fully conscious as they continued to work.

Feeble hands rummaged through old drawers searching for reprieve to the numbness. For months the pristine drawer had weighed heavy with the memories of better days, the memories of laughter and joy amongst the heartbreak. It had sat in the corner gathering as much dust as it could whilst burning holes into the atmosphere.

Those words shot through the air faster than anything the world had ever seen. A billion bullets laced with syllables unimaginable firing into any peace. If only they’d been more aware, if only they had looked up to see the sadness buried in those calm eyes. Maybe this could all have been prevented, they could’ve taken that break somewhere away from their job. Soaked in the sun or relished in the warmth of an isolated cabin. Anything would’ve done.

Finally, within their grasp their search was over.  The sleek material danced along the ridges of fingertips. It was a last memento of sorts, a piece of fabric long since forgotten. It was always supposed to be returned, the note on their bedside table reminded them almost daily. The tie had taken pride of place on the hook by the entrance, until in a fit of grief it had been cast into the wooden box.

The memories turned back to the last conversation, once again the question attacking them.

‘Would you come to my funeral?’ Kishou had announced; he was tired. That much had been evident in the way the sound rolled off his lips and hung groggily through the air. For the best part of the evening, they’d been sat hunched over his office desk scrolling through reports.

The hold on their pen tightened as they paused reading. Conversations like this were bound to happen in their line of work. Just the other week she’d been talking with Haise and the rest of the Quinx squad. They’d all laughed about how they would want their own funerals to be. The laughter only thinly veiled the fear in each of them.  

Haise. He’d come back different since the last mission. His fight with the One-eyed owl had destroyed him. Left him a shell of the amnesiac he once was. He used to sit with them in Kishou’s office writing out reports and eating god knows what. He reminded them so much of how Arima had once been. Before the elder had learned to smile more.

‘That’s a tough question. Are we saying I would still be alive? I mean the only way you’d be dead would be if my mother caught you in my house. Or if you were being reckless fighting a ghoul. Which you never are.’ They retorted. They hadn’t seen the way Kishou’s lips had quirked at the idea of being caught by their mother. Nor did they catch the way he moved his gaze across their form. He was savouring the sight, engraving every shadow that crossed their features. The way their tired eyes would glow when they found something amusing. As though this were the last time, he’d see them. “Can you imagine Washuu’s eulogy?”

‘It doesn’t answer my question’ He chuckled. The sound had become music echoing off the walls. It was a horrible thing to think but the rarest thing in the whole of CCG was the sound of Arima laughing.

‘Probably, just to make sure they definitely killed you and you weren’t just sleeping. Let’s face it I wouldn’t blame you if you pulled that stunt with how hard this place works you. I haven’t seen you take a vacation in almost three years, come to think of it. I think the last proper vacation you had was when I dragged you to my family’s cabin retreat place. You know the one where you met everyone and had to pretend to be my significant other so I could avoid the relentless questions from my mother. It was a nightmare because she had a freak flooding one evening and had to stay in our cabin, so you literally had to sleep in the same bed as me. I kicked you off the bed in my sleep, but you climbed back on and didn’t say a thing.” They rambled. He remembered that vacation fondly, “I only know that because my mother the nosey parker came to check on us and watched you crawl back into bed, pull me close and kiss my head before going to sleep. She told me that the entire car journey to the grocery store the next day.”

“I like your mother” Arima smiled.

“Of course, you would, she spent a week telling everyone how handsome you were and how I was lucky to have caught a good looking one at my age. I’m younger than you.  You also don’t have to deal with the constant texts and calls asking if Arima proposed yet. How do I tell her that as much as I would love to marry you, I can’t marry my boss because I like my job?” They yawned. They hadn’t quite caught the slip up but he had. It stabbed his gut as he pulled his gaze back.

“if it helps, I’d marry you too, but I also enjoy my job” He found his lie at the end of his sentence. He hated this job, in fact he would give anything right now to have run away. He would give anything to prevent the tragic end to his life that would eventually come.

“Oh good my mother will be please, she can tell all her friends over a round of backgammon. I can hear her screaming now. My child is marrying a handsome investigator. You’re all invited.” They jested. Arima laughed. If only that could have been reality.

[because-of-a-friend]

Boyfriend!Dino Fluff

MASTERLIST

Coups | Jeonghan | Joshua | Jun | Hoshi | Wonwoo | Woozi | DK | Mingyu | Minghao | Seungkwan | Vernon | Dino

Hey anon! Thanks for the request and the kind words about my writing! I hope this is what you wanted! Feel free to request more! This is a series I do by request so if I’m missing someone you want, you have to request it!

Dino and you meet at a coffee shop 

He’s rushing to grab a drink before he has a meeting with the other members and some of their managers 

Which is why he’s not paying a whole lot of attention to the orders being called out as he reads the texts Coups is sending him to hurry up

So when he hears an order that sounds close to his but not exactly

He just grabs it thinking they must have messed it up and he doesn’t have the time to deal with it

And he’s already gulping it down when he turns to leave and sees you!!!

And you were coming up to grab your drink

AKA the drink he is currently downing

When he realizes what is happening he turns so red

And starts stuttering

“I just- I was in a rush so- It was so similar to mine- I thought” 

You just laugh

“Hey honestly it’s fine, if you’re in a rush, go ahead and take it” 

“Oh wow, honestly you’re too kind, I don’t know how to make it up to you”

“I can just take your drink! And... you can give me your number”

Dino.exe has stopped working

“Right... right! My number!”

He grabs your phone and types it in

You take your phone back and look up

He’s just sitting there staring at you

“Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“Oh right!” he panics and starts heading for the door. “Text me soon! I’ll buy you a replacement coffee!”

The whole time he’s in the meeting 

He’s in a daze

Just like trying not to grin as he thinks about you being so forward and catching him off guard and making his heart beat like crazy

It doesn’t actually take you long at all to text him

“Hey coffee boy, when am I getting my replacement drink?”

He reads the text twenty times in a row and every time he jumps back onto his bed and kicks his feet into the air

Hoshi walks into his room and walks back out immediately

“Umm guys, I think Dino is broken”

Dino realizes he actually has to reply and asks if you’re free to meet that weekend

You are!!!

When you get to the cafe, Dino is already there with both of your drinks

“You remembered my order?”

“Well it’s so close to mine”

He’s already red

There’s a moment of silence

“So, coffee boy, do you have a name?”

“Oh! It’s Chan, Lee Chan”

“Hello Lee Chan, I’m [Y/N]”

After finally introducing yourselves, you get to know each other

Dino really really really really likes talking to you so he asks you every little question he can think to

And he commits it all to memory

It doesn’t take him long to realize you are his ideal type that he didn’t even know he had

Like your humor, your interests, the way you speak

Every little gesture makes him feel comfortable and happy

You two talk for hours without even realizing it 

He doesn’t even know how late it is until Mingyu is calling him to ask why he’s not at practice

“Oh! I have to go!”

“Haha, you’re always in a rush, aren’t you Lee Chan”

He scratches the back of his head and blushes a bit

“I don’t want you to think I’m just running off, I really enjoyed spending time with you and-”

You grab his hand to stop his rambling 

“We’ll do this again” you affirm before sending him off 

And you do

You and Dino meet up for little dates more and more often

The other boys are having a heyday when they realize what’s happening 

“[Y/N] and Dino sittin in a tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G”

“Guys pls this is the third time you’ve sung that today”

“First comes love then comes marriage-”

“This is why I’m never introducing them to any of you”

But he still shyly asks them to help him come up with date ideas and how to dress when he meets up with you

Your whole relationship is so exciting for him bc honestly he had never really thought about dating until he met you so he’s feeling all this stuff for the first time and it’s just a great time for him tbh

Meaning he absolutely adores you

Get ready for random moments where you look up and he’s just looking at you like 

*          *              * *             * *     *        *  *             * *        *               Heart Eyes   * *    *       *       *          *   * *  *    *     * *      *       *     *      * *

He’s also gonna get shy and giggly any time he initiates physical contact

But he’s like obsessed with hugging you, cuddling, holding your hand, kissing you

His love for you is always overflowing so it’s evident in everything he does

He’s always being affectionate, making time to see you, buying you thoughtful gifts, listens to you intently 

But he acts like it’s such a big deal when you do the same????

Like one time you came to bring him lunch on a busy day

He looks like he’s gonna explode with joy

But then the other boys appear and he’s like 

“You gotta leave”

“Are you ashamed of me coffee boy?”

“No I just don’t want them to scare you away”

Too late

Mingyu has spotted you and now all twelve of them are introducing themselves simultaneously and asking you a billion questions

And Dino’s like “pls leave them alone”

But you think it’s so funny and you’re having the time of your life talking to them 

And it’s really fun to see how much Dino takes after them

But he’s also a nervous wreck, hoping that no one says anything to offend anyone else

But of course that doesn’t happen

They all like you and you like all of them

So Dino starts inviting you over more often bc you knowing the other boys and getting along with them and feeling comfortable spending time with them is really important to him

But he also somewhat regrets it when you and Seungkwan occasionally gang up on him to tease him (harmlessly, of course) 

But the fact that you get along with them so well still makes him so so happy

Then one day Coups gets you a ticket to their concert

And of course Dino wants you to be interested in what he does and get to see it

But he’s never been so nervous for a show before

What if you don’t like it?

What if you think he’s no good?

He puts his whole heart and soul into his performance that night

When they exit the dressing rooms he’s a nervous wreck

He sees you standing down the hall, lightstick hanging from your wrist, looking worn out from attending the concert

As soon as you see him you rush to greet him and jump into his arms

“Did you like it?” he whispers quietly into your ear

“Channie are you kidding me??? I loved it!!!”

He squeezes you so tight you think you’re gonna pop

And as if your words didn’t make him happy enough, he can hear that your voice is scratchy so you must’ve been cheering pretty loud

“C’mon babe, let’s get you a warm drink”

“But I’m already so hoooooot” 

“Yeah but you’ll thank me tomorrow when you actually have your voice”

After that you attend your concerts all the time 

Dino is beaming whenever you come

Accept that one time Seungkwan paid you to hold a sign with his name on it just to see Dino’s reaction

And he’s so excited whenever you ask him about his career and his dancing and music 

He rambles on and on and on and on about it

He’s just so excited to get to share that part of his life with you

And you love seeing how passionate he is about it

Another thing tho

You like never call him Dino

Since he introduced himself as Chan and that’s what you called him before you knew his stage name

And he’s fine with it

But it’s also weird bc sometimes he’s so used to everyone calling him Dino 24/7

Sometimes you’ll be like “Chan, baby, can you pass me the salt?”

*no response*

“Hey Chan?”

*still no response*

“Hey! Lee Chan, I’m talking to you”

“Oh sorry, I forgot that was my name for a second”

You start quoting Seventeen’s song lyrics to him to embarrass him sometimes 

But he gets to turn around and make fun of you bc 

“Last time I checked, [Y/N], you asked me to sing you to sleep with those same lyrics just last night”

There’s definitely a very fun, teasing aspect to your relationship bc Chan doesn’t like to take things too seriously and wants you two to have a lot of fun

But he doesn’t shy away from the more serious parts of being in a relationship and is actually incredibly mature and responsible in facing any issues you two have head on and solving it all in the best way possible

Dino is generally a really level headed person so he always tries to look at things from your perspective and is really great at coming up with solutions and compromises that satisfy you both

He buys y’all matching stuffed animals so that you both have something to cuddle when he’s away on tour

Such a softie honestly 

But seriously

He’s just a great bf who is gonna treat you right and be incredibly cute and cheesy while he does it

[border-spam]

Maw is rlly good but I personally like the idea of Troy having his skag-mouth as a birth defect from Tyreen leeching him in the womb. Makes for more sibling/family drama, which I inhale like a gas-huffer.

I’m here for drama, yesss. Would actually love to see this idea being used! There is so much there for doing juicy shit with the twins, at the end of the day, both of the nasty little shits are abominations from a galactic power standpoint, so why not go wild with the monster aspect, eh?

My own worldbuilding brain is funky though. Part of why I enjoy doing dives into characters and lore so much, is that I love finding ways to make things make sense, and Troy existing at all in Borderlands does not make any.

So something lots of folks mentioned pre-release was that if the twins were going to be conjoined, they would have to be the same sex. It’s just not medically feasible to have xy/xx conjoined twins as they come from the same embryo split in two but not fully. The only option was they could be chimeric but that didn’t really suit what we were seeing either.

I remember that causing a wave cause holy shit, were we going to get a trans villain and could anyone trust GB to handle that without it being a trainwreck? I’m still happy they used word of god instead cause oof. I don’t want to think of how that could have gone down considering how both these characters ended up being used within the plot anyway. 

That means my smooth, analytically obsessed brain has to come up with other explanations for the absolute fuckery that is the Calypso twins and how the hell they exist in the first place when they couldn’t have formed conjoined, and that’s one of the reasons I couldn’t use this kind of extra fun shit like a natural monster mouth being why it’s so heavily modded. I needed to try and fix Troy so he... made sense to me. 

Bit of a medical dive into the absolute state of this man under the cut:

We end up with two fraternal twins.

Not identical in the slightest and very noticeable about that in their appearance. It’s not just the height difference, Tyreen’s undercut is dark brown, not Troy’s inky black. Their facial shapes vary massively and not just due to hormones, Ty’s eyes have a cheeky lil’ cat eye slope while Troy’s are sadder, leaning downwards at the outside curve. There’s very little to actually make them even look like siblings bar their colouration, but we still have what we know:

They were born conjoined, Troy had to be cut from Tyreen, and that’s likely why he has one arm.

Keep in mind his arm is literally never mentioned once in BL3. Not ONCE. No one ever references the twin’s childhoods bar Troy, so we actually have no idea if the arm loss is even related to being conjoined. 

We just all HC’d that as a fandom with no evidence, not even a hint of information regarding this was provided and I think that’s something we forget about often enough as it’s so widely accepted Troy was born without his right arm. Actually strange to think about that, ain’t it?

But I’m rambling - so, I figured we have two fraternal twins, sharing some kind of horrific all consuming monster entity power between them. One can do fuck all bar embarrass himself and faint, and the other can’t STOP her power functioning to the point she can’t touch anything without consuming it.. so my idiot worldbuilding brain says “Hey. Well, that’s clearly what happened then. They were in the same womb, she started to consume him.” Logic. 

Logic works for me, so it stuck. 

Made sense that it’s how he’s a Siren at all when the entire cosmos has said Sirens are women, he’s one because the power that was consuming him filled his little body enough to see him as itself, so it stopped - leaving the developing twins joined, and half of Troy’s torso lost to Tyreen.

I can’t justify much else to my fact hungry thought processes, the skag mouth wouldn’t work for me because I can’t fit it in, him being a natural Siren doesn’t work for me cause it can’t fit either, but it does open an avenue of logic for my brain to start following down, and that’s why in Leech Lord, Troy is so desperately unwell. 

Growing up barely having survived being consumed in utero is not going to go very well when you’ve no medical assistance living on a shitty little dirthole planet with your dad.

Damaged organs from The Leech feeding as he grew, out of wack hormones ravaging a body that couldn’t really regulate them correctly in puberty leading to massive growth spurts and bone structure issues, no proper nutrition, starving half the time as his size outpaced the amount of food he and Typhon could scavenge, it all comes together into a very delicate health balance. 

We already know Troy is very unwell at times from what we see ingame, it made sense to me, so I ran with this line. 

He’s sick when he doesn’t want to be, he’s weak when it’s an embarrassment to the character role he’s playing. He covers himself in tattoos and aggressive mods to try and combat looking delicate, so he can lie to himself that he’s not pitiful and bolster his fragile ego. The massive, hulking prosthetic is there to MAKE you look at it. A way of proving how unashamed he is of the damage to his right side, and it works. 

The gullible believe, the stupid remain easy to control, and billions see him as a God, rather than the truth - that he’s a very sick, very delicate man.

A lot of what I do with Troy is there to support the underlaying character I’ve tried to write for him in some desperate attempt to try and make the bastard have some logical excuse to exist in the first place. 

If I’d gone down the route of having his Maw be something that wasn’t self inflicted, I would have gone off track with the direction I was taking him in, even though I am WEAK for that kind of monster level shit.. Mmm. 

I remember being asked:

Would troy have gotten the face mod if Seifa hadnt left?