#and blue is trapped by his own urge to be good to people

[wr-n]

give me any unhealthy pairing and i will brainrot over them

the emotions and experiences they go through is just *chef's kiss*

[novemberheart]

{overview} You put your omega instincts to good use. It’s time to face John

{warnings} fem reader, a/b/o dynamics, poly 141, slight gore, cursing, mentions of death, slight panic attacks, injuries

Chapter 27 <- Chapter 28 -> Chapter 29

You were thankful Johnny knew what to do. You were nothing but a thorn in the side. Your hands gripped onto the back of his T-shirt as he led you around. Anais happily agreed to watch Vernie, squeezing you tightly in assurance.

Your heart sank when he stopped in front of a helicopter.

“Mac, please tell me what's happening,” you pleaded, keeping your voice strong.

“Just need you to be a good omega for me and follow what I say,” he reasoned back. His hand hadn't left the waistband of your pants, and you were beginning to feel sick from the way he moved you around. “Up you go,” he urged, basically lifting you onto the helicopter with one arm.

You needed to get out of your funk. This is what gave omegas a bad name. The inability to respond quickly when in an unknown situation. You would just have to be strong. Interestingly enough your brain repeated Simon's words like a mantra.

“You’re just as brave and stupid as the rest of us.”

Hopefully, you could avoid the stupid. Yet the sentiment didn't go unnoticed. It was just another way Simon was affirming you were a part of the pack. Their pack. You were chosen for a reason.

You were a part of their pack. It was time you started to act like it.

You grabbed the straps yourself before Johnny could buckle you in, strapping yourself in as tight as you could. It caught him a bit off guard, his hands stalling for a moment, before taking his own seat as close to you as he could.

“It’s Kyle isn't it?” you pressed. You had to yell for him to hear you.

“It is,” Johnny affirmed. “He’ll be fine. Nothin’ a little you can't fix,” Johnny soothed.

“You’re getting cocky, Gaz,” John spoke, making Kyle’s lips quirk up into a smirk.

“You find a reason for me not to be, sir?” He shot back. His dress shoes were quiet against the tile floor. If it wasn’t for his voice you wouldn’t even know he was there.

“Enough with the banter, boys,” Laswell sighed. “You two should be home already,” she adde. It caught them both off guard, their bodies tensing and stomach turning. Your face popped into their head. Kyle’s face scrunched as a pang shot through him. “Sorry,” Laswell added, feeling their mood shift. Ever since you, home has been a touchy subject. Sometimes home wasn’t always four walls.

“S’alright,” John spoke, clearing his throat. It had been especially hard for the alpha leaving after what had transpired. While he had made slight amends with you, it was hard to get back into your good graces halfway across the world. John shut his eyes tightly from his spot on the roof. He took a deep breath nearly able to smell the fresh peaches and warm vanilla. He could feel your hands gripping his shoulders and the way your skin molded perfectly against his. He could feel your cheek against his and the giggle that brushed across his ear when his beard would tickle you. He growled low in his throat, his eyes fluttering open.

They needed to get home.

“Got eyes on them?” He spoke, his voice rumbling through the comms. Kyle didn’t say a word. They were close. “Lead them out the back alley if you can,” he kept his voice low.

As if on cue the backdoor opened, two tall men wearing black suits walked out, with two more behind them dressed in perfectly tailored blue suits. John rolled his eyes. Could they be anymore obvious? A woman turned down the alley making John curse. Would be hard to shoot four people with a witness.

“There’s a woman. See if you can steer her away,” John mumbled, eyeing them through the scope. Kyle entered the alley, dressed as a waiter, pointing for the woman to turn around.

“Sorry miss, but we have a delivery truck comin’ in. You’ll be trapped,” He explained, waving his hand.

“That’s alright,” She smiled. Kyle immediately felt his stomach drop his hands moving on instinct as her hand reached to her side. He dodged her, his hand able to get a good grip on the back of her sweater tossing her towards the men. The knife clattered from her hand against the ground. Kyle didn't bother to go for it, the gun tucked into his coat getting the job done quicker. Kyle took out three of them, John taking out the other two.

“Good work,” John praised. Kyle exhaled, ready to begin his trek down the alley before something caught his eye. It was the woman, lying face down against the street.

Her hair matched yours.

She had a similar build. You even had a sweater that same color. It made his stomach turn, his mind easily replacing her with you.

“Kyle?” It was commanding and concerned. “You need to get out of there,” John pressed. Kyle’s body erupted in goosebumps, his feet finally catching up with his brain. He began to walk forward, the urge to look back one last time irrefutable.

“Can't just leave her here,” Kyle said finally. He opened his mouth to continue, but the sight had made him sick. He turned his head towards the trash can, bile rising up his throat. John opened his mouth ready to rip him a new one, yet his words got caught as well. It was like he had forgotten where he was, his brows furrowing at the idea of you being there.

Why were you in the street? He winced, the reasoning behind Kyle’s actions as clear as day.

“She’s at home safe,” John reasoned. He could see Kyle wipe his face with his sleeve and nod.

“I know,” he sighed. “I know.”

“Get out of there,” John repeated. Kyle agreed silently, heading back into the restaurant.

“Fuckin’ over this shit,” Kyle growled, pacing back and forth in front of the alpha. “Another bloody week?” he continued. The alpha’s hands reached out, gripping the back of Kyle’s shoulders.

“The timeline isn't definite,” John reminded, pulling the fired-up man against him. John felt heated against him- a true sign of how equally upset he was. “The more we keep our heads on the quicker we can get home.”

Sometimes home wasn't always four walls.

“Definite? Could be longer then,” Kyle snarled, rolling his shoulders out of John’s grasp.

“What do they expect anyway? They constantly push for every pack to have an omega and then don't make proper adjustments for it. What will we do when she's marked and she marks us? I won't be able to be away from her longer than a month and you’ll only be able to last around two weeks.” Kyle ranted. They had been gone two weeks- now they were expected to be gone for another whole week. It felt longer than that. Each day dragging on like an anchor in the sand.

“They make pills for things like that now,” John sighed, running a hand over his face. His beta was justified in his anger, but it would just be easier to push feelings aside and get the job done. “She’s not home alone either. Johnny’s keepin’ her safe,” he added.

John’s phone went off. He grumbled, digging in his pocket moving towards the door. He acknowledged something, hanging up in one motion. “Get your vest on. We are leaving,” He commanded.

Every minute felt like an hour, every hour felt like a lifetime. You had finally landed in a hospital just outside of Kavala. The helicopter ride hadn’t lasted long and you and Johnny had to hop onto a passenger airplane. It was early afternoon when you had arrived.

At least it was warm. Kyle would appreciate that.

“Garrick, Kyle,” Johnny spoke. The woman at the desk clacked against her computer.

“Not ready yet,” she replied bluntly. “He needs more time,” she explained.

“He’s my beta,” you growled before you could stop yourself.

“Marked him?” She questioned. Your face curled. You could be bonded without marking him.

“She did,” Johnny lied. The woman eyed you both before pushing her rolling chair against one of her coworkers. They whispered to each other looking between the two of you.

“Follow,” she commanded, getting up from her chair. You breathed out, your hand giving Johnny’s a squeeze. The hospital was nice. Not as sterile and cold as the one on base.

You were hot on her heels as she weaved her way through the halls, an evil sounding whine leaving you when she would stop and chat to a coworker. Some people just couldn’t read the room.

She stopped in front of a door and you gripped the handle without permission, nearly pushing her out of the way. You didn’t even notice John sitting in the hallway. You walked into the room, your hand gripping the curtain around the bed.

“Next one,” the nurse corrected harshly. You couldn’t blame her for her tone. He was in the bed closest to the window. A whimper left you as you pulled the curtain back.

“Kyky,” you mumbled, already clawing at your eyes. The blanket was pulled above his shoulders, the skin that was exposed wet and feverish. His face looked the same, besides a scrape against his jaw.

You got to work.

You could already tell his leg was in a cast. You pulled the blanket to his waist. His whole torso was covered in red spotted bandages, his arm in a sling against his chest. You pulled both the room and window curtain back, so he could feel the sun against his skin. That would make him feel better. You went over to a cabinet pulling out the smallest towel you could find, using the water fountain in the hallway to wet it. You still hadn’t noticed the distraught alpha in the hallway. Your distraught alpha. John watched you carefully, the ache in his chest crippling as you went about your business without so much as a glance. He pushed that away. All that mattered was that Kyle got the care he needed. John let himself sink against Johnny as they sat in the hallway. The Scot’s soft blue eyes understanding and assuring.

“I missed you two,” John said finally.

“We missed you,” Johnny affirmed. “She’s been havin’ a hard time sleepin’. Been hard on her, having both her alphas gone,” Johnny sighed.

“You’ve done a good job takin’ care of her,” John said, his throat tightening. “Is she still….” John trailed off. Johnny knew what he was referring to. The Scot pressed his lips against the alpha stiff shoulder.

“I think she still thinks about it. Especially with everyone being away it’s easy to let her mind wander. Being close to you- being reminded of how much you love her will shake any doubts she might have,” Johnny explained. John relaxed. That is exactly what he needed to hear. A lone tear fled from his eye and he rubbed it away with his thumb. One of the most common misconceptions about Johnny was that emotions flew over his head. Whilst the man was brash and impulsive, he felt everything so deeply and he always knew what to say in the aide of others.

You washed as much of Kyle as you could without disrupting him.

He knew you were there.

You could feel it. His muscles twitched, despite the medicine in his system, like something inside him was trying to claw its way out to get to you. You could hear the clatter of shoes against the floor, not paying much mind until then entered the room. It was a nurse, one that you could already tell knew what she was doing. She was an alpha. You could tell by her square shoulders and frown lines.

“You got here fast. That is good,” her accent was strong, but her pronunciation was perfect. She eyed the curtains that had been pulled back and the wet cloth on your hands. “You have strong instincts. That is good, knowing what your beta needs to get better,” she praised. “He has a fractured leg, an overstretched ligament in his shoulder, and multiple lacerations across his abdomen,” she explained.

“How long will he be asleep?” you questioned. While you had heard the information it was like your brain rejected it. You didn't want to hear what had happened, just how you could fix him. Asking how long he would be asleep felt manageable. Something you could prepare for.

“Whenever the anesthesia wears off,” She responded curtly. “For these types of injuries, we recommend keeping as close as possible to him. He needs to know you are here,” she spoke, brushing past you. She pushed down the rail of the side of the bed and pushed a button on the headboard. The bed expanded on the left side and you took a few steps back to allow it some room. “You can sleep here,” she patted the newly extended portion. “I suggest skin-on-skin contact. That may be a little hard due to injuries but it can be something as small as resting your hand here,” she pointed to his rising chest. “There are blankets in the cabinet. You might be tempted to get some softer blankets from the store around the corner, but it'll be best if you’re a little uncomfortable. Your discomfort will heighten his instincts and spur on the healing process,” she reminded, opening the cabinet you had just dug through. “I’ll be back when he wakes up,” she said, not bothering to look over her shoulder.

“Thank you!” you called after her. You sighed, heading for the papery thin sheet from the cabinet. You crawled onto the bed, using it to cover both you and Kyle. You pressed your cheek against his bare shoulder, inhaling deeply. Fresh linen, mixed with a slight salty breeze from his sweat. “I love you,” you mumbled against him. Your fingers brushed against his side and you resisted the urge to throw yourself against him and bury yourself as far into him as you could. You settled for wrapping around his good arm, resting it between your thighs just like he always slept.

It wasn't long before you drifted off to sleep.

John and Johnny entered shortly after, wanting to make sure you had enough time to get settled. John growled at the state of you. Your tired form shaking from nerves and low temperature. Your eyes rubbed raw, and your hair knotted and unkempt. Your cheeks heated from a slight fever. You always got fevers when you were upset. You've probably had one for weeks. He dug into the bag Johnny had brought with him, pulling out one of the blankets he had packed you.

“Ya heard what the nurse sai”-

“Kyle would murder us if he found out we let her suffer at his expense,” John cut him off. “Besides after what he's been through he’ll want to wake up to her being as comfortable as possible.” John tucked you in, making sure the blanket was rolled up to your neck and chin.

“Her jellyfish is next to her socks,” Johnny added. John dug into the bag again, tucking it under the covers with you.

“What happened?” Johnny worked up the nerve to press.

John sighed, sitting down on the edge of the bed. His knuckles brushed up and down your side, adjusting the blanket again.

“Car crash,” John sighed. “He was in a car that was headin’ towards a warehouse. It was intercepted,” He explained through gritted teeth. Johnny grumbled under his breath, adjusting in his seat.

“We know by who?” He pressed. John hummed in agreement.

“I was in the car behind ‘em. It's been handled,” He assured. Johnny stood, gripping the back of the alpha’s neck pulling him against him. John rested his head against Johnny’s stomach, his hand gripping his shirt. Johnny's hands ran up and down his back, digging his thumbs into the tense muscles.

“You’re exhausted. Need to sleep,” Johnny reasoned. He pulled away from him, setting up a small area on the floor for them to sleep. They've slept on worse.

You woke up slowly. The room was dark. Too dark. You whimpered quietly, causing shuffling in the corner.

“You alright?” John rasped. A purr echoed through your body before you could stop it, the sound pure instinct. “Sweet girl,” he groaned, more to himself than anything. A hand rested on the top of your head, dragging down your back, dipping under the familiar softness of your blanket. You tried to remind yourself you were still hurt by him, yet the addicting warmth of his hand against your skin had you melting into the bed. “Missed you, sweetheart,” he mumbled, leaning forward, his lips pressed against your hairline. “Both did,” he added, pressing you closer to Kyle. You whimpered out, your hands finding their way to his face, his beard tickling against your skin just like how you remembered. His chest rumbled with a sad sound, his face making a beeline straight to your neck, pressing his way between your shoulder and jaw. “I’m sorry I had to leave when I did,” he said softly. His teeth ached being so close to your neck. All he had to do was bite down and you would be his forever. Connected and bound together. He was tempted to do it while you were letting him be so close to you.

“John?” you whispered, your nails digging into his biceps. A shiver ran down his spine at the sound of his name rolling off your tongue. God, he missed you. He hummed in response, his cheek pressed against yours. “You don't wish I was someone else….do you?” you asked softly. His heart fell into his stomach, a familiar uneasiness falling over him. How could you even think that? “I just don't want you to wish you had picked someone different th”-

A sharp growl cuts you off, your body being pressed further into the mattress.

“Pull your head out of your arse, pretty,” he growled against your cheek. Your eyes widened and you tried to move your head to look at him. “Remember the first time we met? You walked in and the door blew your scent right in my face. Wanted to make you mine right there. One scent, one look, one word and I knew you were mine. Nothin’ll waver that,” his tone was passionate and slightly desperate, offering you no room for disagreement. He had never shown you he had wanted someone else or that he was unhappy with you in any way.

You just needed to hear it from him.

Sorry for the late update! Chapter 29 will be posted in three days! 🧡😊

[a-blind-bat]

GhostLights Event: Blind Date With a Prompt - @dcxdp-ghostlights

and With the Stars as Our Witness

Edit: I forgot the prompts…

Prompts: Fanasty AU | Gala

*~*~*~*~*~*

Danny wasn’t a fan of these galas. He felt suffocated being in a room with so many people. Royals, legends, and the wealthy all gathered in one place for a celebration. The bustling of conversation along with the low buzz of music coming from a band in the corner mixed together to create one sound that bangs at Danny’s ears.

Sam had dragged him and Tucker along with her. She was forced to attend on account of her parent’s wishes and she would be damned if she had to suffer through it alone. Only seventeen minutes into the party, though, Sam got trapped in a conversation with some earl and Tucker was showing off some of his inventions to potential patrons, leaving Danny to try and entertain himself. Irony is a funny little thing. So here he is, awkwardly standing in a corner and trying to drown out his boredom with extremely expensive wine.

He should’ve made up an excuse, acted like there was a life-threatening emergency to attend to. He would rather be fighting a dragon over experiencing this party for a second longer. Even if it was a Wayne Gala, which was always praised to the high heavens, he found the party to not live up to the legend. The head of the house, Bruce Wayne, was easy to spot. He was always crowded around various wealthy participants, all laughing and chatting their heads off. He did not envy Ser Bruce, seeing as he had to interact with so many people. Even watching the crowd made him tired. The longing warmth of his bed filled his mind as he absentmindedly swirled the red wine around in the glass.

A sharp sound of metal repeatedly hitting glass pierces his ears, and he looks up from the pool of red to see an old man dressed in a black suit befitting those in wealthy circles. He was standing on the stairs and tapping a spoon against a wine glass. The crowd quiets down to a murmur as the old man clears his throat.

“I welcome everyone to our humble estate, we are gathered here to celebrate our newest addition to the Wayne linage. "

Right, the whole reason anyone was even here in the first place. The Wayne family had gained another child. Not through birth, but through adoption. Bruce Wayne was famous for picking unfortunate children off the streets of Gotham and adopting them into his luxurious life. This was his fifth…sixth kid? Danny had lost count. The rich really could afford everything.

“Chosen by Ser Bruce Himself, we welcome Duke Thomas,”

A roar of applause filled the ballroom as a person Danny presumed was Duke came walking down the stairs. Danny didn’t know what the new kid looked like. He was expecting another black-haired, blue-eyed, perfect prince archetype, seeing as the rest of the ones that were adopted were similar. But Duke was different.

The whole crowd was quiet except for the band, who played music to accompany Duke’s descent down to the ground floor. His smile was bright and blinding, and Danny could swear there was this light surrounding him, emitting off of him and surrounding him like the wings of an angel. He was dressed in yellow, gold, and black, his outfit befitting one of a prince. Halfway down, Duke’s gaze met Danny’s. The other boy's eyes turned from brown to golden and Danny had this urge to run towards Duke, to hold him and get to know him. It wasn’t a feeling he had ever felt before; it was terrifying.

Duke looked away as he finally reached the ballroom floor. The surrounding guests rushed to greet him and present their own gifts. No doubt a way to buy themselves into the good graces of Duke and Bruce. The old man coughed to gain the attention of the guests once again.

“I know you're all excited to get to know him, and what better way to get to know someone than with a dance!”

The party erupts into a roar as the band starts to play a sweet and romantic melody. Duke is immediately swept into the chaos as the dance floor becomes filled with waltzing couples. Before Danny could think, his feet were carrying him to the dance floor, his eyes fixated on Duke Thomas, who was currently enrolled in a dance with a nice young lady in a peach-pink dress.

As soon as Danny stepped into the dancing crowd, he got pulled into the arms of a young woman in a beautiful red gown. They twirl around a bit and he loses his Duke in the crowd. He looks across the ballroom floor for him as he dances around, eyes darting from one person to the next. He finally spots Duke with a different lady. This one is wearing a glimmering dark green gown, her smile big as they dance around. Duke looks around above the head of the woman and his eyes soften once they meet Danny’s. Duke twirls the lady around with one hand and lets her go, twirling her right into the arms of another lady as he bows to her. Danny lets go of the woman in his arms and bows to her, walking off towards Duke. Duke gets swept up into another dance with a nice gentleman in a fancy blue outfit adorned with jewels. They twirl and twirl before the gentleman spins Duke around with one hand. Once the spin ends, they both bow, leaving Danny an opportunity to finally dance with Duke. Danny felt various tingles shoot up through his arms as his hands interlocked with Duke’s. It was exhilarating. He had never felt this way with anyone before. It was even more strange as he had never seen Duke Thomas before.

Now that Danny is closer, he can get a good look at Duke. Duke’s a little shorter than he expected, maybe an inch or two below Danny. Beauty marks sparsely cover his face and a small scar across his left brow. His brown eyes were no longer brightly golden, but Danny could see tiny gold specks floating around in his dark brown eyes. He was beautiful, and Danny could feel his heart race. His cheeks felt hot and yet he felt as if he was completely at peace.

“Do you ever not stare?” Duke asks, a smile accompanying his question.

Danny laughs. “Don’t act like you weren’t looking for me as well.”

“It’s quite hard to look away from someone who’s glowing green. "

Danny steps back a bit too far and steps on someone’s foot. He quickly apologizes and leans in close to Duke.

“I glow?”

“Do you not know? Your eyes, they shimmer this toxic green sometimes. I was inclined to think you were magic. "

Everyone knows magic users don't receive warm welcomes in the kingdom of Gotham. So being accused of being magic was a big deal. While magic users may not get burned at the stake, there’s still prejudice and if they find out Danny can do magic-.

“I can feel your panic. No need to worry.” Duke’s eyes turn into a shiny golden. “I’m magic as well,”

“Is that why I was so drawn to you?”

“Perhaps, seems like magic souls seek each other out. "

“I just realized you don't know my name. They call me Danny.”

“‘Danny’? I like it, I think it fits you, I’m Duke, you already know that but I still like to introduce myself. "

“It's nice to meet you, Duke. "

They waltz together for what seems like forever. Until Duke speaks up again.

“Do you like stars, Danny?”

“I like the stars, yes,”

“Then I have something to show you if you’ll be so kind as to let me”

Danny nods and Duke slips them both away from the party. He leads the other boy to a balcony, out of immediate sight of the rest of the partygoers. The yellow light of the ballroom pours out onto the balcony, clashing with the dark of the night. The night sky is littered with shimmering stars, the light cast from the bright stars shining down on Duke makes him look like he’s in a romantic painting.

“I rarely like these big parties. When I get overwhelmed, I tend to sneak out here. I thought maybe you would like it. The stars always looked lovely up here. "

Danny loved it, the stars dancing around in the sky. Glowing so bright, so far, yet so close. He looked back at Duke, the stars twinkling in his eyes alongside the golden specks. Duke was lovely.

“You glow as well,”

Duke’s attention switched back to Danny, one eyebrow raised and a worried expression on his face. He looked down at himself, trying to find this glow Danny was talking about.

“I don’t think anyone else can see it. "

“We see in each other what others can not, sounds like a poem to me. "

“You like poems?”

“Sometimes,”

Silence filled the air again, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. It was nice. Danny acknowledged how strange his feelings towards Duke were. They had only just met, not even spending an hour together, and yet he was so drawn to him, like a moth to a flame. It was intoxicating and so free to be in the presence of someone he had never seen before tonight.

“Do you feel it too?”

Duke doesn’t even have to explain. Danny knows what he means. The magnetic pull drew him closer and closer. The glow in Duke’s eyes shows a part of him that no one else knows. The comfort and peace he feels just being near each other. He had never felt anything like this before. It scared him and he wanted to dive headfirst into this feeling. To know more about the magic boy next to him.

"Was afraid you didn't,"

Duke smiled at his answer, and Danny was no longer in a hurry to get home. His bed could wait. And if they shared a kiss that night, the stars would not tell.

*~*~*~*~*~*

Come find me on AO3!

[haeseolar]

where the sky kisses the waters

kinnporsche - merman!porsche

rated G, 2.4k words

twitter / based on this fan art

tw: mentions of kinn grieving and mourning his mother's passing.

----

It isn’t often that Kinn comes to the beach. 

The ocean always reminds him of his mother, who would clumsily walk across the uneven sand in her sandals until she reached the shore, the skirt of her sundress rippling in the wind as she gazed out into the distance. She always felt so far away in those moments, trapped inside her own mind as she watched the waves and felt the cold salt water wash up over her feet. Kinn would be left to stand beside her in silence, having learned that until she snapped out of it, there was no getting through to her.

There were many times Kinn thought this would be their last beach trip where they’d travel all the way from Bangkok in his mother’s car, racing away under the anonymity of night with the sunrise pulling back the veil to welcome them when they reached their destination. Kinn knew his father knew, and his mother knew, too, but it didn’t stop them. Each time, when his mother shook him awake, whispering conspiratorially and shushing him with a finger over her lips and a glint in her eyes, he expected it to be the time they finally left.

It never was time to leave. Not even when Kinn’s mother died, or when Tankhun was too sick to take over as the head of the family, and not even when Kinn went through the worst betrayal of his life. It just never seemed like the right time, or enough to warrant such a decision. And so Kinn stayed, living the life that his father had crafted for him, forcing him to be everything he wasn’t - all for the sake of the family. 

He felt the scorned gazes of a thousand people, all watching and waiting for him to fuck up, to crumble under the weight of their debts and his misdeeds. Everyone relied on him, one way or another, for good or bad reasons, but he had no one to turn to. He was responsible for their lives, their wages, and their futures, and he had the power to end it all or get into a position where it was done for him. Their loyalty knew no bounds, and he saw it, he felt it: the way they’d bow and reverently refer to him as Khun Kinn no matter how nasty he became, or how warped time and stress made him. He’d hear their whispers, reminiscing about the ‘old Khun Kinn’, acting as if he was once their saving grace.

This wasn’t his burden to bear. He knew that. His father knew that. His brothers knew that. But they didn’t hold out a hand, or offer him a lifeline.

As the sun rises on the horizon, the sky and the ocean becoming one, warm hues of reds and yellows changing into cool blues and greens, he understands why his mother would get lost in her thoughts here. 

The ocean air is salty and makes him cringe as he adjusts, but once he’s settled it’s the freshest thing he’s ever smelled. He breathes it in, feeling his lungs expand around the oxygen, the toxins expelling as he breathes it all out again. Kinn allows the wind to carry it away for him, his eyes following a random route as he imagines his worries being taken away and becoming the universe’s problem rather than his. 

There’s nothing sensible in his attire, kitted out in his specially tailor-made suit, his dress shoes hanging on the tips of his fingers by their heels with his socks stuffed inside them. But there’s no one here - no one watching him, or waiting, or relying on him to do anything at all. It’s the most relaxed he’s felt in months, maybe even years.

It’s been so long since he allowed himself to come back to the beach his mother used to take him to and to relish in the sights he’d only ever seen with her by his side. There’s an innate thing inside him that has been tugging him forward, beckoning him towards the beach, a voice in his head telling him that something is there, waiting for him. As the days passed by, the urge got stronger and more powerful until it took over his whole being until this morning, where he couldn’t sleep and finally snuck away to escape and to answer the ocean’s call.

Somehow, it’d been easier than he thought it would.

Where his mother’s ghost follows him with every step, feeling the warm brush of her arm against his, or the gust of wind that blows by sounding like her voice calling out his name, it doesn’t hurt as much as it once would’ve done. His heart pangs, his stomach in knots, but it feels right being here. 

“Mae,” Kinn whispers, just to feel the way it feels on his lips again. It feels foreign, and clunky in his mouth, but it eases the pain in his chest for a moment. A waft of her soft, floral perfume permeates the air, and as soon as he smells it, it’s gone again.

Kinn’s eyes fall closed. He scrunches them up, massaging his temple as bursts of colour and shapes form on the back of his eyelids from the pressure. He’s almost thirty, and here he is, acting like the timid, soft-hearted boy he can never become again. He should go home, turn around and dust off the sand sticking to his feet and in between his toes. He should forget about this for good and move on, just like his father always tells him to.

You’re so stuck in the past that you can’t see what’s right in front of you, Kinn. His father would say, giving him a cold, pitying look as he then would say: Checkmate, leaving Kinn with nothing left on the chessboard to move with.

Kinn ruffles his hair, and then slicks it back again, hoping that the wax he put in it this morning before he left does its job and puts it back into place. Where the cool, salty tang of the morning breeze and the ocean lapping at his ankles was soothing, it’s now too much. Goosebumps ripple across his arms and make him shiver, the shifting granules of sand washing back and forth across his skin are like tiny knives slicing their way through, so he steps back, out of the water’s reach, sinking into the sodden ground as it gives beneath his weight.

One step back, two more, then three, and the sand becomes dry again, warming in the sun that’s drifted higher in the sky. 

He should leave. There’s nothing here for him anymore, nothing but a ghost and an unfulfillable dream. There’s so much more he should do - he should be a filial son, a cold-hearted businessman, and a strong leader.

Kinn sighs, glancing around the area one last time, making peace with as much as he can right now. It’s a small, private area that’s set apart from the main beach by the rocky terrain that surrounds it, cocooning him in with small coves and uneven surfaces. There’s technically no entrance to it, you just have to be brave and curious enough to scale up the dunes and down the rocks. He’s not sure how his mother found this place and the realisation that he’ll never be able to ask her hurts. Because he wants to know. He wants to know how she got here, why she always brought him along and allowed him to share her space when she so clearly wanted to run away from it all. She didn’t have to do any of that, and yet she did. 

But she always took him back. She never would've known that her death would lead to a cold, lifeless house with a traumatised Khun, an angry Kim, a husband and father who lost any form of warmth along with her passing. And Kinn - her dear son, who was lonely and barely keeping his head above water regardless of how much he tried. 

Maybe coming here was a bad idea, after all. 

Kinn turns to leave, the sun warming his back, but then there’s a splash and a chirping noise coming from behind him. 

He glances over his shoulder, expecting a seagull, but instead, he’s faced with a pair of light brown eyes watching him from a few metres away in the ocean. Kinn gasps, twisting and stumbling back as he eventually loses his balance, falling right on his ass. 

The eyes watch him, eyebrows raising in question. Kinn can’t fully see the person they belong to, his head mostly submerged in the water, but he can make out loose, dark curls that stick to his wet skin, some strands floating on the water’s surface. 

“What the fuck?” Kinn exclaims, panic seizing his whole body. He curls his fingers into the sand, taking fistfuls of it to try and steady himself.

The person in the water responds with another sound that suspiciously sounds like a laugh, and begins swimming towards him until the water goes lower and lower, slowly exposing his features and body. The man’s skin is rich and tanned, glowing and reflecting the sunlight. It emits an unearthly glow around him, like a halo, but it only brightens him instead of casting shadows. His features are delicate, pretty, almost feline with the soft curve of his eyes, his nose and the full pout of his lips. They’re so pink, even from this far away, Kinn can still see. He can see how beautiful the man is, how otherworldly he seems, moving through the water like it’s a part of him, the waves gently encouraging him forward as the ocean obeys his every command. 

The curls fall around him as they leave the water, clinging to his skin and droplets cascading down his bare chest. Kinn can’t help but watch the path of one, following it all the way from the point of his chin and down the slope of his neck, down, past the curve of his pecs and the flatness of his stomach, all the way to his - 

Kinn’s breath catches in his throat. 

“You have a tail.”

A beautiful, prismatic blue one. Each scale shifts in colour, an iridescent sheen glossing over them, but they remain varying shades of blue. They go lighter, darker, pastel and deep, royal and fantastical. The man - merman? Kinn’s brain corrects, and comes to a stop, lying on his front with his tail kicked up behind him. The large fin at the end sways back and forth, almost like a cat’s when it’s curious. 

The merman’s head tilts to the side, now propped up on his palm. Kinn’s eyes catch more blue scales winding their way up and around his neck and face, patches of them marking his skin. 

“You don’t remember me?” The merman questions, his voice light and melodic. 

Kinn wants to crawl forward, to lean into it, make the stranger keep talking to him like he’s singing a song that will lull him to sleep. He craves it, his stomach bottoming out, his arms shaking and knees becoming jelly.

“Should I?” Kinn asks in place of that, shoving the urge down. He’s acting on autopilot, the words spilling out of his mouth before he can even think twice about it.

He’s dead. Or hallucinating, or maybe both. 

“Yes,” The merman pouts and Kinn’s heart stumbles, his pulse quickening. “You’re Kinn.”

The way his name is spoken sounds like a poem, a well of feeling and emotions that Kinn could never possibly hope to define, the slight twang of an accent to it, the harshness of the k into the soft, breathy n sound at the end tells a whole story he’s not privy to. But he wants to know. 

“Who are you?” Kinn asks, his voice breaking on the second word.

“Porsche,” he replies, along with an eye roll, as if Kinn was stupid to ask.

“Porsche?” Kinn repeats incredulously, not expecting the name. It sounds too modern, too human, and nothing like what he would’ve guessed a creature he once believed fictional to have attached to him.

Something in Porsche’s eyes changes. His tail stops moving, his posture tensing.

“You really don’t remember,” Porsche says quietly, looking down at his reflection in the low tide.

“I don’t even know what’s going on!” Kinn replies sharply, the dampness of the sand seeping through his trousers and making this whole ordeal even more uncomfortable. “Why - how am I supposed to know you?”

Porsche glances up at him, his expression neutral. But then he smiles. It’s wide, making his eyes crinkle and his flushed cheeks bunch up. His eyes glitter, and the beautiful browns in his irises crescendo around Kinn like harsh waves crashing against the rocks. It completely and utterly disarms him, all the barriers and uncertainty and grief that possess him are lifted away, and the next breath he takes feels like he’s finally above water.

“It doesn’t matter,” Porsche replies, the smile never once dimming despite the anguish in his tone. 

Kinn feels as if all the lights in the world have been shut off, leaving him in pitch-black darkness.

“It does,” Kinn says quickly, finally able to make his limbs move. He crawls forward, not caring that he’s ruining his suit and that seashells and rocks are cutting into his palms as he approaches Porsche. “What if I want to get to know you? Again?”

Kinn stops when the water is up to his wrists and soaking his shins and calves, when he’s within reaching distance of Porsche. He’s even more stunning up close, a feat that Kinn didn’t think could be possible. Porsche looks up at him through his eyelashes, beads of water clinging to the tips of them, cobwebs of dew connecting them all.

He can tell Porsche is assessing him, and he lets him. He allows this stranger, this mythical creature, this Porsche to look at him as much as he wants. He doesn’t care what Porsche sees - if he sees a weak man, a lost man, a lonely man or a desperate man trying to cling to the first thing that sparks something deep inside him. This could all be a trap, a dangerous siren coming to shore in hopes of luring Kinn into the depths with him, but it’s not a shock to him when he realises that he wouldn’t mind that. 

Porsche sighs, “You’re lucky you’re cute.”

And then there’s a hand reaching out for him, cupping his cheek, reeling him in until their lips collide and splashes of colour and memories bloom in his brain, filling out the gaps and crevices of things that he’d long lost: a friend, a lover, his Porsche.

[ladyddanger]

Final Exam!

Hello! I’ve been waiting for you. This test counts for a hundred percent of your grade so I  hope you studied. Before we began a few ground rules. 

When the timer sounds the test will start. To your left you will find a number two pencil. Please use it to mark your answer. Only mark one answer per question unless you are  told otherwise. You will answer about twelve questions. Not all questions count for the same number of points. Don’t try to leave the testing room. Keep your eyes on your own paper. Any breaking of the rules will result in termination.  A second timer will sound when your test is complete. Ready? You may begin! Good luck! 

Ready. One. Two. Three- 

You wake up in an empty bed, heart pounding so hard your whole body is shaking with it. White silk sheets are tangled around your body trapping you. You slowly untangle yourself scanning your surroundings, trying to teach yourself to breathe again. 

You’re in your bedroom you realize as your vision clears slightly. You don’t spend much time here anymore but you spent months designing this place and know it like the back of your hand. Shadows cling to the furniture, dusty from lack of use. Music drifts from the bright streets down below. The city lights don’t manage to fully reach up here casting odd shadows around your big empty room.

 You shiver as you get up, now that you're awake you might as well work. You’re not going back to sleep after that dream. You don’t remember falling asleep but you're still in your suit with a red tie knotted into your hair holding dark locks back. You must have kicked your shoes off somewhere before you passed out because you can’t find them. 

Whatever. It’s just you here, so you don’t have to worry about looking good. On the desk you shoved in the back of your room for nights like these, you find a stack of papers wet with what smells like whiskey and totally ruined. On top, having somehow survived the mess is a picture. 

Your own face grins up at you, cheeks dimpled with youth. You look so.. delicate like this. Your hair is messy, blown back by the wind and easy laughter dances on the edges of your mouth. You can see feathers peaking out of beanie, the golden tips brushing your flushed cheeks. An arm is around your waist, pale skin dotted in freckles. The owner of the arm is  careful to avoid the wings on your back. 

You can’t see his face behind a plastic mask but you know what exactly  it looks like. 

Freckles and sun kissed skin and jade green eyes. A nose that’s been broken too many times. A pale white scar down a high cheekbone. You know what he looks like laughing with his friends and half asleep and angry. 

 You know what he looks like broken and sobbing, blood and vomit on his face, those same green eyes bloodshot with tears as he lays at your feet a ruined mess.  

You look away quickly before your thoughts can spiral into that sweet darkness look away until the almost religious urge to tear and break and hurt is gone. You suck air into your broken lungs. You can’t focus on Dream’s face. You can look at George, his lanky body leaned on Sapnap, his eyes hidden by glasses and imagine him calling you an idiot.

 George is safe. Safe to miss because everyone misses George. George is always leaving. Your grief is shared and makes it less painful than Dream who you don’t miss at all or them. Your hands are shaking. You won't look at them. You won’t. You fail . 

Sapnap’s arms wrap around your shoulders leaning into you warm and playful and smelling of smoke. Karl is on on Dream’s other side, taller than all of you in his purple high heels caught mid laugh, eyes shifting from Purple to Blue  

You know by that point Sapnap had already had a crush on you. You know that Karl was genuinely laughing because his eyes are sparkling. It feels like a violation to know that much about people who hate you. Or- worse don't care anymore You feel sick looking into their eyes.

QUESTION ONE: WHEN WAS THIS PICTURE TAKEN?

A.) Summer. You remember salty wind catching in your wings as you flung yourself into the cool deep blue of the ocean. You remember bursting to the surface a moment later, washed clean by the sun a man reborn. You miss them so much it hurts. Like someone reached into your ribcage and dragged your heart from your chest. Every time you wake up in a bed too big for one person you lose a piece of yourself. Soon you’ll be all gone. You drop the paper to the ground. 

B.) Winter. You remember how cold it was. How Karl complained, how  eroge demanded to be carried through the snow, how Sapnap took your hands when you complained about being cold. You remember Dream’s hands on your back between your wings as he pushed you into the ocean. You were both laughing as you fell. Now the memory fills you with anger. Fuck them for leaving you. You’re a wolf and they're are all fucking sheep. You will claw and bite through flesh. You will choke on sweet salty blood until you drown and they can fucking starve. Horse, water and drinking and all that. You pull out a lighter and tell yourself that your hand is shaking from anger. With a quick motion you light the paper aflame and watch your own face burn. 

C.) Spring. You remember playing Manhunt, chasing Dream through the newborn grass. All of you ended up sweaty and gross when the picture was taken. It hurts to look at the picture but the pain is better than the hallow in your chest you get when you try to ignore it. You're not sure what that says about you. You slipped the picture into your pocket and feel it burning a hole into your thigh. 

D.) Fall. The world was on fire. The five of you curled around the fire Sapnap had built. Karl fell asleep with his head in your lap and he was the most beautiful thing you had seen in your whole life. You stayed frozen, scared that any movement would frighten Karl both awake. . You should hate your own face. All of their faces. But you can’t. You’ve run out of tears, run out of emotions. Their faces are worn slightly where you’ve drawn your thumb over them. You tuck the picture into your pocket.

[selkymaiden]

First meetings 😳 

"Please don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Stare at me."

I'm actually astonished he even noticed, although I keep my face controlled enough to look mildly interested. Raising an eyebrow I swivel my head so that I'm actually looking him in the face. He stares back in a very cool- Alright, cold manner.

The fact is I wasn't even using my peripheral vision, or side-eyeing him at all. I was using the reflection on a piece of Silver displayed in his office to study him as he talked with a subordinate.

"I can look if I please."

"Why are you here? I know you're not like the other patrons, you're different. You're one of..." He trails off, making some sort of sour face. It's comical how expressive he is actually. "Black Mask's flunkies." I hold my tongue, those words actually make me bristle and I stare at Oswald Cobblepot in contempt. What's worse is he knows he's gotten a reaction out of me for it. I feel like we're playing some sort of fencing game and he's struck a point already.

"I was just headhunting bar keeps and was told this place was back open again. So I decided to take a look myself." I decide to be honest, it's easier this way because it was truly what I was doing. "Nice lie. Why are you really here?" Typical, paranoid crime lord. I resist the urge to roll my eyes and instead; I gaze back almost piercingly- something I know my eyes are very good at. Yet the fact is he holds my stare and doubles down with his own. It sort of works for him, with his mismatched eyes, one being in a monocle. Except he's more sarcastic about it. I watch his jaw tighten even before he relaxes and suddenly looks more accommodating, that sickly sweet charm people put on when they want information. He even waves his subordinates away so it's just us.

"Well?"

"I told you the truth. I'm here on my own accord to be nosey and take staff if it so pleases me and they agree to it."

"You know who I am, right?"

"Who you were, you mean?"

I take a point this time. I'd like to think I strike him across the cheek for that one, I even let it show on my features by giving an innocent smile. He seethes. But controls his temper all around, which I have to hand it to him- He's no Black Mask, thankfully, but from what I've heard about him and how he did things... I'm just waiting for a temper tantrum I suppose. I'm almost disappointed.

"You're very funny. Haha."

That actually makes me smile genuinely. It's sort of goofy how he said it, maybe I'm not used to dealing with people like him because he's different from other people in this line of business. Perhaps that's why he's stayed alive for so long?

"Listen, I don't care if you're some lackey of this 'Black Mask', what you're doin-"

I cut him off. Men hate that. He's no exception, although now it's him that looks astonished I'd even have the gall to do something like cut The Penguin off.

"I'm sorry Mr... Penguin. I don't know how you want me to address you. Anyways, this is not the same Gotham as when you left it, which I know you're fully aware of. I think it's been... 10 years now? You were in Blackgate for a while and power has shifted. I know you have some still loyal to you, obviously, when you got out of prison you had a driver ready for you. Very sweet. But there are a lot more players on the Chessboard now."

"Oswald."

Huh? I look taken aback by his simple reply.

"You can address me by my first name, Oswald."

This feels like a trap and I'm quiet as I study him, again we just look at each other. It's almost maddening. I've never felt so riled up by anyone except maybe Roman, but that was a given because of who Black Mask was and how we've had past. But this... This new guy... The Penguin was different.

"No... Anger because I cut you off?"

"It was rude but what you lack in manners doesn't deter me."

That's a point for him but I don't mind because the way he responds is hilarious to me now. What a funny little man.

"You're sort of cute." I respond.

My words are so out of the blue I think I actually stump him. In fact, I think I can see something like color on his pale cheeks and nose, but mostly I can see something not-so-nice lurking in his expression now. How exciting.

"Miss...?"

"Sophie."

"Miss. Sophie, I'm sure this has been entertaining for you, but I'm not above-"

"Killing me?"

"Stop interrupting me!"

That actually gets a physical reaction- He pounded his fist once on his desk, while his facial features sort of do an interesting twitch. He's holding back desperately I think, maybe he's had anger management or maybe he's just trying to be a gentleman for now.

"Maybe I should just get rid of you right now so I don't have to worry about the future? Hm? I'm sure Black Mask won't cause a whole war over one of his little lackeys dying."

"You're wrong."

"What?"

"First of all you make the mistake I'm easy to kill off, insulting. Second of all you really don't know who or what I mean to Roman Sionis. Actually what anybody does. I could be his driver and if you off'd me he'd simply start something- He's... He's sort of spoiled. He doesn't like his things to be toyed with or destroyed, and no offense, you aren't exactly in a whole lot of power like you used to be. So you're sort of a sitting duck... Er, Penguin."

I'm not being mocking, I'm not even being antagonizing now. I lean back in the chair across from him as he takes in what I said because I'm all honest and open at this point.

He doesn't answer right away and instead, I can see the gears in his head turning. The mental gymnastics of this man must be a gold medal winner I'd like to think, because it's true he defiantly does not have the Empire like he used to. But in the short amount of time he's been released from Blackgate he's done enough to garner attention from several big players. Black Mask is one of them.

"So what, are you warning me? Were you sent here as a message?"

"You're not listening. I came here on my own, nobody knows, and I did it because I felt like it. However, sure, yes, you could take what I said to you as a warning about how Black Mask works. Well, just one of the ways he works. It's free information for you because I think you're cute."

His jaw tightens and a flash of warning is in his eyes at my last comment. But otherwise, he keeps himself in check before looking away; he glances away and towards a large outside-facing window. The view his office has is actually very nice, Gotham's skyline is illuminated by an almost full moon tonight.

"Alright, Miss. Sophie-"

"Just call me Sophie."

"Sophie. Exactly who are you?"

Something drops in the pit of my stomach. I think he's won the fencing game and turned this into a Chess game now. Something I've never wanted to be a part of, have always avoided, but now unintentionally became a pawn by just coming here tonight. The Chessboard and game that is Gotham were made for big players: Black Mask, The Penguin, up comers even like this 'Two-Face' Harvey Dent, and not to mention the Mafia families and the different secret societies. I've been lucky, or unlucky, enough to fall under Black Mask and just be tasked with taking out the garbage for him long as I'm loyal. But I think I messed up by speaking with The Penguin.

Do I be honest?

"I'm a bar owner over in Black Mask's territory; it's called The Temple. It's Greek themed but modern, I do good revenue."

The way he studies me is annoying, it's annoying even more how I feel affected by him. I've been around long enough to learn to never let anyone get to me, even Roman. Yet here is this stupid... Slightly round, pale, man getting on my nerves.

"You know what?" His voice is like a clear bell, but the bell that tolls when someone has died. "I think it's very nice to meet you."

I see tonight might be long.

[0shewrites0]

It's sucks that we can't have Henrik as Lucas' best person in wedding special. I hope I can see a headcanon about Henrik being his best bro's best person. Is it desperate to ask??

Hi there! It's certainly not desperate to ask! 🫶🏼

Although I have to admit I'm no Henrik expert (unlike @longbobmckenzie), so there's a good chance I'm getting it all wrong.

Anyway, I'm going to focus on Lucas being Henrik's best mate in this scenario. It’s just easier like that 🥲

🤎 puns. You can bet that Henrik constantly makes puns that he thinks are funny, even though they are just annoying (at least according to Lucas, but that man hardly ever finds anything funny that others say anyway 💀😂), such as: “I recognise my place here. A best man is similar to a dead body at a funeral. Of course I’m expected to be there but if I say too much then you, my man, start freaking out” because Lucas would freak out at some point

🤎 his best man speech. Speaking of puns: Henrik will definitely roast his best mate during his best man speech! And he will preface his speech with something that goes something like “it’s been an emotional day, even the cake is in tiers” with a shit-eating grin on his face

🤎 teasing & mischief. Henrik will tease Lucas about how much of a control freak he is, especially on that day. And if Henrik had been Lucas's best man in that wedding special, he would have locked Lucas up in that stupid dove cove himself. 😭😂 Just for fun and to help him "relax a bit", "frown a bit less if he doesn't want his forehead to wrinkle before he turns 30" and just "live a little". But Henrik, being Henrik, wouldn't be able to keep that to himself for long and would most likely give himself away with his sly grin and the mischievous twinkle in his eyes 🥹

🤎 chaos. He would cause as much chaos as possible! He's the best man, and if there's one day he can (actually physically needs to - yes, it’s an itching urge he can’t suppress!) do just that, it's definitely his best friend's wedding, duh

🤎 moissanite stone. We all remember how Henrik teased Lucas about how "it’s all about moissanite stones these days because they have a higher brilliance", right? Henrik was already teasing him about it during the show. So if it's MC that Lucas is marrying and they got together during Love Island, you can bet he'll bring that up again, because you can be sure Lucas gave his fiancée a ring with a spectacular moissanite stone in it 😈

🤎 koala. That being said, Henrik would probably freak out at some point too. I think he's actually a highly sensitive person who picks up on the mood of the people he knows best, and that includes Lucas. So while Lucas is totally losing it (because commitment is still scary for him), it makes Henrik nervous and he tries to be there for Lucas, but in his own way. So he would definitely trap Lucas in some tight hugs, which serve to calm Lucas's nerves, sure. But at the same time, it's about Henrik trying to calm himself down. He'd cling to Lucas's back like a bloody baby koala until Lucas shoves him away with an annoyed look, but at the same time he can't hide the fact that he thinks it's ridiculously cute. He'd probably hiss "bloody melt" under his breath and then ruffle Henrik's hair, at which point the latter would break out into a huge grin 🥹🥹

🤎 support. But apart from that, he would be so supportive! He’s not the best at organising stuff (unless it’s mountain climbing ofc 💀😂), so he’d probably mess up a few things, but he does his best, and you know you can't stay mad at him for long when he looks at you with those damn blue eyes and gives you his best Nordic gods smile that makes your knees go weak

[where-pain-is-so-pretty]

December Project 12

- Living Inside My Own Confusion

Pairing: Joel x Reader

Category: Hurt/Comfort

TW: Depression! Suicidal Thoughts! Crying! Self Harm!

Word Count:

Request: - my own thoughts -

Requester: none

Note:

I'm finally back continuing the December Project (in February?!…) Pls, ignore the numbers, I messed up the order on purpose because I just couldn't keep up with my original schedule. But I promise all requests will be posted sooner or later! Title are lyrics from Lost by Linkin Park!

It was close to 2 am when you opened the door of the AirBnB you shared with the Blind Channel guys, finding all of them, except one, already asleep. They were here for promo and studio work and you went along to visit some friends and see one of your all-time favourite bands live. A quick getaway from day-to-day life.

And reconnecting with your old friends here in the UK had been refreshing and fun, but now that you were back 'home' and the adrenaline rush of the concert was about to subside, a certain emptiness bloomed in your chest.

Now it was past 3 in the morning, and you wished after-concert blues was the only thing bothering you. Seeing your favourite band had brought you the serotonin you had desperately needed, but it only lasted for about an hour and now things were even worse. There was this all too familiar tightness in your lungs and your racing heart felt like a broken bird trapped inside your ribcage.

Your mind was circling around the conversations you had with your friends, earlier this evening. Leaving you bitter, once more you realized how behind on life you were.

They all had a partner, kids, a great job, finished their degrees, or were about to build a house or travel the world. When you were glad you made it out of bed in the morning or afternoon. A functioning life was something you could only dream of. You had dropped out of university, to take care of your mental health, but finding a therapist had turned out to be harder than expected. These rejections had led you to feel not sick enough to receive help. Other people had it worse, and although you clearly weren't alright, you were still functioning somehow, weren't you? So, how bad could it be? You lived for the little things, chased every bit of serotonin you could get. May it be a concert, a new tattoo or a one-night stand, as long as it made you forget about the chaos in your head for an hour or two.

And you weren't jealous of your friends, in fact, you were more than happy they had such carefree lives. You just wondered if it ever was your turn. Your friends must be so tired of you for never getting better, for always being the one who was behind and not okay.

Maybe life just wasn't for you. Maybe you should have ended it already, your friends would be better off without you anyway.

"Aren't you cold?", a familiar voice echoed through the darkness behind you. It was Joel. Of course, it was. No one else would be awake at this ungodly hour. Shaking your head, you didn't turn around, fearing he might sense what was going on inside your head if you faced him. You wanted to feel cold, needed to feel the sharp pain on your bare arms. It kept you at ease, helped you resist the urge of hurting yourself.

"Are you alright? You have been sitting there for an hour." He asked, voice soft. You turned your head slightly, still not looking at him but at the other side of the room. For a second you focused on both Aleksi and then Olli. Both of them already peacefully asleep in their beds.

"I'm good.", you lied as you locked eyes with him for a moment to underline your false statement. Trying to avoid his question you added: "What about you? Noticed you staring at your phone ever since I came back." You knew it was typical Joel behaviour but you also knew that usually, something was bothering him when he acted like that. And maybe this question would distract him enough from your condition.

"I guess. Couldn't sleep and started checking stats and doing some TikTok stuff, the usual." he shrugged. His brows were narrowed as he examined your face. "What's bothering you?" his tone more serious this time. You didn't want to answer, you wanted to be left alone with your thoughts, drown in them until you were exhausted enough to find some sleep. You considered telling him another lie, but he had already seen through the first one. And knowing Joel, he wouldn't let go of it until you told him the truth. His grey-blue eyes stared right into yours, demanding an answer. There was no escape.

"Too much…" You finally mumbled looking down at your hands. You regretted saying these two words the moment they had left your mouth. Knowing they would only cause more questions.

And it was not like you did not want to talk. You wanted to scream it all out to get rid of the troubled feeling inside your chest. But you feared you might bother your friends if you did, drag them down or overshadow their problems with your own. These struggles were yours to fix, nobody else's and especially not Joels'. He dealt with enough shit already and on top of that, he and the boys had work tomorrow. You could wait.

To your surprise, he stayed silent and left. For a second you were almost relieved, but then he came back, a black piece of clothing in his hands. He stopped right in front of you and wordlessly handed you the hoodie. You were about to protest, still feeling comfortable surrounded by the chill night air, but his gaze was firm on you. Arguing with him wouldn't lead anywhere.

You took it from his hands and started unfolding it. When you were about to put it on, Joel lightly nodded. He was such a mother hen sometimes, you thought, as you pulled the black sweater over your head. A shiver went through your body as the soft, warm fabric embraced your cold skin. It was big enough for you to disappear in it, the sleeves covering your hands almost completely.

You watched him sit down on the window sill beside you, fumbling with something in his large hands. At second glance you recognized it as a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He took one of them between his thin lips, the orange flame of the lighter illuminated his features for a few seconds. He had bags under his eyes, stubbles on his chin and his hair tied up in a messy bun. He was worn out from travelling, stressing about work and dealing with his insomnia, and you had nothing else to do but to bother him as well.

Taking the first drag of the cigarette he silently offered it to you. You accepted, turning the cigarette between your fingers as you watched it burn down before taking a drag as well. You breathed out the smoke and handed it back to Joel. You sat in silence while sharing the rest of the cigarette, the only background noises the soft snoring of the other guys and the fade sounds of the city outside.

"Wanna talk?" Joel asked as he flicked the stub out the window.

These words were enough to cause you a mild panic attack. Your heart started hammering against your ribcage. You swallowed heavily, your mouth suddenly dry not only from the taste of the cigarette. Taking a deep breath you fought the knot in your throat and the tightness in your chest. "I don't know…it's a damn lot…" You didn't know where to start or how to tell him. Nothing made sense, everything seemed too much, too confusing to sort out and explain.

"I'm here, I'll listen!" His answer was short but it almost made you cry. You really did not deserve him, or any of your friends. He was mindlessly fidgeting with his lighter, his eyes still fixated on you. The worried expression in them filled you with so much shame and regret. These problems probably only seemed this big inside your head, because you had created them to have something to cry about, to sabotage yourself, as an excuse to not feel okay. You just couldn't waste his time like this, it seemed unfair, he shouldn't have to deal with you and your stupid thoughts.

"Thanks, Joel, but you should try and get some sleep. You have to get up early tomorr-"

"Y/N! Would you please stop searching for excuses!" For a second he almost sounded angry although he spoke in a low voice to not wake the others. Sheepishly you lowered your head, mumbling a quiet "Sorry..,".

One of his hands found yours, lightly squeezing it, showing he wasn't mad at you.

"You are not doing well, I can see that! I won't force you to talk. But please know I'm here if you need to and I'm also here if you don't. I'm not going anywhere!" A nod was all you managed to do in response as you fought back tears.

His words made you feel everything at once and a part of you wanted to run and hide, while the other was about to throw yourself into Joels' arms and cry your heart out. You did neither and kept staring at your intertwined fingers. Focusing on the shape of his, the lines on his skin and the chipped nail polish, as his heartfelt words slowly made it through the loud chaos inside your head.

"Y/N, please look at me!" Joels' voice was only a whisper. Hesitantly you lifted your head, your whole body tensing up as you tried to put a smile on to cover the tears that were about to fall any second now. Even now you were afraid of letting him inside. Fearing he might judge you. When you met his eyes you felt your guts twist in guilt. Wishing you could do or say something to make the worry disappear from his face.

Joels' free hand reached out for your face, softly lingering on your cheek. "I'm here! I won't judge, I promise!" You could feel your cheeks heat up under his touch and new tears dwelled in the corner of your eyes. You couldn't stop them. A strangled sob escaped your throat as you broke eye contact to hide your tears from him. Covering your face with your hands, you barely noticed Joel pulling his arms around you. You were too weak to push him off, so, you surrendered, letting him hold you as you allowed your feelings to take over completely.

And for a moment, you were drowning, consumed by the darkness of your thoughts. All the pain you kept inside washed over you at once and you lost yourself in it.

You were violently sobbing into Joel's chest now, your body tense and shaking while he held you. Aware that your make-up rubbed off on his black shirt and that your eyeliner ran down your face mixing with your tears. You hated yourself for being so pathetic, for wasting his time like this.

"I'm…not worth all this…" you sobbed out, trying to wriggle out of his embrace, but you weren't strong enough to fight him off; and in reality, you didn't want to.

"You are so damn worth it Y/N!" He pressed him against you further and you gave in again. Your nails dug into his shirt as you held onto him, your face buried in his chest, shedding your tears. His embrace around you almost hurt, yet, he gave you what you needed most. Comfort. He kept your head over water, kept you from drowning. And instead of your chaotic mind, you focused on the warmth of his body, his large hands on your back, the rising and falling of his chest. And between crying and listening to his heartbeat you finally found the strength to talk.

"I…I..feel like I'm falling apart and I don't know how much longer I can go on like this…I'm so overwhelmed by life and I fear it won't ever change…I'm afraid of never being okay again." A heavy sob made you pause your rambling and you tried to swallow it taking a few deep breaths.

"A few months back I tried to…I tried to end it…" Your voice was shaky and you felt another wave of tears coming, as you told Joel what you had kept to yourself for way too long. You let them fall, knowing that in his arms you were safe from the demons inside your head. "Shh…it's okay! I'm here…" Joel had stayed silent for the entire time, not asking questions, his hands soothingly running up and down your back. You didn't deserve him, you weren't in the exact shape of being confronted about your mental issues or possible solutions. That was for another time when your mind was clearer and your chest felt lighter.

"We should go to bed." You suggested when the tears had finally dried up. He lightly nodded against you, slowly loosening the grip around you. You risk glancing up at him, fearing to see pity and judgment in his eyes. Instead, he greets you with a soft smile, his gaze heavy on you, and there was still a hint of worry and maybe even pity in it, but he wasn't judging you. The tear stains on his cheeks and his glassy eyes were what broke your heart. And you were about to apologise for trauma-dumping on him but Joel stopped you right away. "Don't you dare to apologise!" he sounded serious but there was also something playful in his voice. You didn't respond and only you took the sleeves of the hoodie between your fingers and brought it to his face, carefully wiping the remaining tears away.

"Thank you, Joel!"

"Not for that! I'm always here if you need me!" His lips touched your forehead for a second and then he pulled you into a hug again. And he held you for the rest of the night. insisting on sharing the bed with you, not wanting you to sleep alone.

[active-hoper]

Attaining Comfortability in My Own Skin: The Personal Significance of My Main Battle Team in DRAGON BALL: Sparking! ZERO

Warning(s) for: topics pertaining to genocide and suicide, and spoilers.

Tapion - Shame

Tapion, a pale warrior with a red mohawk and sheathed sword on his back dressed primarily in orange and dark-colored attire, stands, playing his enchanted ocarina with a solemn yet troubled expression on his face, in the "City Ruins" map on the character selection screen.

Part of me believes that I deserve death day in and day out as a consequence of routinely succumbing to the feeling that I can cause, and have caused, no more good than harm. A boon for processing this struggle of mine is Tapion's inner tribulation being akin to it.

Faced with the eradication of their people, warriors Tapion and Minotia, Tapion's younger brother, had no choice but to have the split essence of Hirudegarn, an ancient evil that was rampaging across their home planet, be imprisoned within them using enchanted ocarinas after its weakened self was sliced in two with a horizontal slash. The costs of this decision were imprisonments of their own in enchanted music boxes that were sent into space, far away from their place of birth, and each other. Though tragic, such fates were welcomed by the two brothers for the purpose of keeping the genocidal supremacists responsible for Hirudegarn's return from reawakening it again. Unfortunately for them, their fates would not play out as intended.

Years later, the sole-remaining supremacist kills Minotia, freeing one deadly half of Hirudegarn, and manages to release Tapion with the help of DRAGON BALL's unsuspecting main characters on Earth, destroying his music box in the process. The evil within Tapion is then soon completely released and able to rejoin with its other half. As it threatens to eradicate yet another world's people at its full power, an exhausted Tapion can only watch while others who would fight to protect the Earth are beaten down. Eventually, he regains his energy and uses his enchanted ocarina to re-trap Hirudegarn. Knowing that he does not have much time before he loses any strength he has left, he urges the young incarnation of the third teammate in this piece, whom he came to see as a second younger brother, to kill him so as to spare the world and those around him from further harm.

Before a decision can be made, Hirudegarn ultimately breaks free again. But, the Earth's fighters find a way to defeat it, sparing Tapion from an early end. Tapion displays a positive demeanor as he departs from Earth's fighters after this battle's end, yet my resonance with him still lies with his pain, the pain that he experienced and caused, inadvertently or not. Reflecting on pains of those ilks in Tapion's and my life spawns overwhelming shame at having failed at being as good a person as initially desired. Within that shame, however, is also a call, a call to be stronger and more hopeful so that the pain I cause and the effects of the pain caused by others are mitigated in the future.

Bergamo - Acceptance

Bergamo, a blue and white wolf-like bipedal character wearing a red scarf, brown pants and boots, bandages on his arms, and a "Tetsuya Nomura" number of belts on his boots, waist, and arms, stands in the "Tournament of Power Arena" map on the character selection screen.

For a time, I wished to have a small, tight-knit group of friends with whom I could achieve greater feats. I had not fully understood why my yearning for that ended until familiarizing myself with the story of Bergamo, a survivor in a seemingly doomed universe who takes down anything and anyone standing in his way to keep him and his two younger brothers alive. His nature comes to a head when his small-scale selflessness and destructive desires contribute to the (temporary) erasure of his universe in a deadly tournament hosted by the kings of the omniverse to test if mortals can be better than they are presently.

Lacking the ability to see the value of those outside of his family and ambition, Bergamo loses himself in survival mode, something I am accustomed to due to abuse and the PTSD from that, both of which have made me feel that I must shy away from the facts I am gay, disabled, and a furry - the last of which playing as Bergamo helped me to accept - to protect myself.

Maybe admitting the existence of a connection to a character like him is the first major step I have taken toward accepting my identity, which I have mostly rejected up until this point. In doing so, it seems a slow-transforming wish to instead have a general sense of community as my individuality remains unaffected by bias and pressures to conform has finally been put into proper action.

Future Trunks - Righteous Perseverance

Future Trunks's Dragon Ball Super incarnation stands in the "City (Evening)" map in his Super Saiyan form on the character selection screen with blonde, spiky hair pointed cleanly in different directions as he wears a blue Capsule Corp.-branded jacket with a sheathed sword hung around his chest and back; slightly-ripped black pants, green-yellow boots with black toe caps, and a red bandana around his neck.

Future Trunks is an inspiration to me. He used to live in a timeline where many people on Earth were irreversibly killed in droves on one occasion and nearly completely annihilated on another at the hands of world and multiverse-ending threats, respectively. Despite this all, he continued to fight for his and their survival, as well as for the creation of a better life for everyone, and he continues to do so in a new timeline, even after his previous one was destroyed. All this is to say that a fighting spirit such as his is especially worth adopting in this day and age.

This leads me into how, at the time of this post's release, it appears that Donald Trump will become the forty-seventh President of the United States. I and many other individuals around the globe who are also not considered the norm will likely experience tougher lives because of this bigoted monster's re-election. His re-election carries the threats of continuations of the deadly precedents he has set with his hateful, vile rhetoric and delusional policies from his first term; as well as the empowerment of the selfish, ignorant following that he has cultivated. As you could have guessed, none of that is to say that things are over. There are and will always be chances to fight back together, to keep this world from meeting a grim fate, and to thrive, not merely survive.

[simmetrycal]

that’s what i like ༉‧₊˚.

synopsis

a glimpse into chantelle and oaklynns relationship, accompanied by ash who’s got nothing better to do than to third wheel.

word count: 5.7k wow

a/n: i just be writing! (not proofread) ((asher solace of solace enterprises is my very best friend))

chantelle tapped her foot against the glossy marble tiles in front of the cafe “Little Dove”. for a coffee shop that is owned by and literally on the second floor of the company, the service still isn’t quick enough. and the coffee itself is mediocre at best. there was a line of about seven people in front of chantelle, all waiting to pick up their drinks.

chantelle knew all of the employees in front of her. some worked in the call center, some in finance, some in marketing. even a fellow secretarian. she looked around, more of her colleagues at the tiny tables with their laptops and cups.

she noticed hans working silently to himself before agnes comes up to him. they spew insults at each other, aiming to offend and hurt.

the scoop on agnes and hans is always fresh on everyone’s ears. their drama never ceases— the rivalry still and perhaps always will be a flame that never goes out. it isn’t a romantic flame at all, don’t get it twisted, they fight because they’re after the same person.

rahim abboud. he’s from syria and he’s in tech support. he’s probably the funniest guy chantelle’s known at the company (don’t tell ash.) everytime she has trouble with hers or ash’s computer, he’s there. he does a silly accent to mock stereotypical tech support scammers, who tend to also be brown men.

none of which look like him of course— rahim had a smile that makes crowds literally buckle at the knees. his chiseled jaw and perfect skin and hair could also be that of a model. he almost looked a little too handsome in chantelle and ash’s opinion. though, he did own quite a nice mercedes.

hans o’neil is absolutely nuts for him. he’s not allowed to have water on his desk anymore on account of how many times he’s “spilled it” on his computer just so he could call rahim to him. agnes does the same shit only with the marketing teams phones and answering machines.

point is; they both fight over him like he’s a piece of meat and they’re starving hyenas. the two are always at each others throats.

like right now.

“run out of dry shampoo, grease trap?” hans snides at the auburn haired woman who was across his little cafe table. chantelle pursed her lips closed as she tried not to laugh, moving up in the pick up line.

“oh yeah you’re one to talk, you probably used it all on your dry ass white hair.”

agnes’ comebacks weren’t super great but she spits them with such venom that it’s enough to be hurtful.

everyone used to think hans has albinism but it turns out he’s just very, shockingly platinum. he reminds chantelle of those beautiful white hares with the red eyes. anyhow, agnes’ comment flew right past hans as he pretended she didn’t exist anymore. the classic ‘out of sight, out of mind’.

she interpreted that as her winning, so she sashayed away confidently with a hair flip over her shoulder and a “hmph!”

someone cleared their throat in front of chantelle, surprising her. she was at the wooden counter, finally.

“good morning, what can i get you?” a blue haired individual with a visor and apron asked.

“morning, pick up order for chantelle?”

the barista’s eyes widened. “oh my god, i’m so sorry! you’re chairman solaces’ secretary! let me get that for you right away!” they scrambled around, looking for the order for their utmost superior- hoping this wouldn’t get them fired.

chantelle politely urged them it was no rush, even though the more she thought about it, she realized she’d been in this long line for about thirty minutes now. the barista came back with a paper bag and a drink holder.

chantelle tipped and took the bag that had her boss’s bagel and the drink holder, making her way back up the elevator, away from the pity little dove establishment this company owns.

right as she got in and the doors were about to close, she saw hans running up to her with his closed laptop and to-go cup, his blue-strapped lanyard dancing with his jogs.

she stuck a foot out to stop the door sensors to let him in.

“phew! thank you.” he says breathlessly to chantelle before using his knuckle to press the floor number he was on his way to. floor 29, finance.

“good morning, hans.” she replies gracefully. chantelle and hans have gotten to be better acquaintances now that ash has been barking up raymond’s tree about the whole mystery girl situation. ash and her have frequented the finance floor more these past few weeks than ever.

“can you believe that trifling skank?” he runs a hand through his perfectly neat and short powder white hair.

“pardon?”

“agnes thinks she’s hot shit. but really she’s just a dirty bitch.” hans rolls his eyes and sips his warm drink.

“mhm, tell me about it.”

“oh! i’ll tell you about it!”

chantelle chuckled, she was merely playing along but she knows this shorter boy is about to open a can of drama in this elevator. who was chantelle to be opposed to hearing it? so she avidly tuned in.

-

at her big, beautiful mahogany desk, chantelle ate her breakfast burrito and checked her emails, waiting for ash to return from his meetings.

many people assume ash goofs off all day, and while that is partly true, he does actually maintain his duties of a chairman. he keeps up with all his responsibilities and he attends all the mandatory meetings.

she knows he’s upstairs in the board’s conference room playing one sided footsies under the table with the unsuspecting ceo (who is always being replaced). he calls all the chair members “The Bored” instead of the board. it makes chantelle laugh.

she took another bite of her burrito whilst looking at her itinerary for the day. her heart warmed when she saw a particular reminder.

today is her and oaklynn’s four year anniversary!

this morning she stopped by jerichos place because the two had a family night there yesterday. it was a bit of a drive but she didn’t mind. she delivered yellow tulips to a groggy jericho as apparently the princess was still getting her beauty sleep. chantelle couldn’t wipe the smile off her face as she got in her car and came to work.

tomorrow was a national holiday, so no work and her and oaklynn were going to make the absolute most out of it. they had reservations to go to a lavish new italian restaurant “Casa Bellissima” which took months to get a spot.

she texted ash the other day saying thank you. it was him after all who pulled some strings for them to get a reservation for tonight.

then after dinner, they were going to the movies to catch challengers again. oaklynn was extremely excited but chantelle, after seeing it once, was simply only going for the sake of her happy girlfriend.

and finally, at chantelle’s apartment tonight, they both know exactly what sort of late night activity they’d do. eager to go for however long they want and sleep in the next morning.

chantelle snapped out of her rose colored daydreaming when she heard the familiar ding of the elevator.

“good morning, sir.” she stood up and greeted, watching him make his way to the giant doors to her right- his office. he didn’t notice her at first and changed his resting face to something high energy.

“oh my gosh! i had no idea you were here yet!” he said excitedly, knowing it’s her big day. but like a dog, he spotted treats, “is that for me?”

ash hurries over to her desk to grab his bagel and frappe, setting down the heavy binder that was in his hands. it was surely filled with new tasks wayne gave him at the meeting.

sometimes chantelle didn’t speak until spoken to, and ash knew this. a trait about her he was desperately trying to bend, even after all these years. he does this by asking her as many questions as he can.

“how do you feel?”

“good,” she says simply. “really good.”

his face warms with a genuine yet goofy smile. “yeah? did you see oaklynn this morning?”

“well, i tried to go see her but she wasn’t home. then i remembered it was family night so i went to her cousins house and she was still sleeping. i delivered some flowers.” she blushed. hard.

“awwwe!! that is too cute!” ash gushed, leaning over to mess up her hair. something she hated.

her blonde bob was back, per ash’s request. he loves choosing her hair and as a white man, he feels like he’s apart of something bigger.

chantelle always lets him and she’d never tell him it’s not doing what he thinks it is. at least, not again— she told him once.

“the black community is not going to give you a medal for knowing these hairstyles.” she blurted once when ash said something about her getting goddess faux locs for her next hair appointment.

he was sad and didn’t come out of his office all day out of embarrassment. chantelle ended up getting her hair done on company hours to come back and surprise him at the end of the day with the exact style he was talking about. it occurred to her then that ash was actually fashion saint and knew what he was doing. she never doubted his advice ever again.

he was overjoyed and gave her a big hug. he even took pictures of her because of how lovely he thought she looked. later they went on her instagram.

chantelle smoothed out her shiny bob that ash just ruffled, laying her hands down over it repeatedly.

ash giggled and made his way to his big office with a cityscape view. chantelle followed in suit with a clipboard of his printed schedule.

she noticed he had a meeting today in 45 minutes with finance’s director. wondering if it was actually to see reports or to have another chitchat with raymond.

“oh! guess who i ran into today,” she starts.

ash sits in his spinny chair and turns to look at her with surprise. “who?” he was probably expecting something crazier than she was about to say, palming a fidget toy.

“hans.” she explains, handing him a tiny paper cup of water and his adderal pill.

he downed it in a second and tossed the cup into a little trash receptacle. “oh. oh…! did he have anything to say about agnes?” ash is hilariously obsessed with the whole hans-agnes-rahim love triangle. it’s been going on for a while too.

“did he! oh my lord,” chantelle chuckles and takes a seat on the opposing couch to tell her boss everything hans spilled in the elevator earlier.

all about the weekend lake party that marketing threw to celebrate their new manager. the funniest part to chantelle was the fact that the team fully didn’t invite the manager.

she laughed hard when hans explained it. apparently the guy is old and grumpy and wouldn’t approve of a party. but the team threw one anyway for morale.

anyhow, agnes invited rahim and in turn rahim brought along hans. it was a shit show, hans said. but the lake was absolutely stunning. he recommended it to chantelle.

(i’ll write the lake shit show separately)

˚ · .

“what time is your reservation again?” ash said as he watched chantelle clock out. he clocked out himself twenty minutes ago but he likes to walk her to her car when she parks outside down the street. the sun will set soon and he doesn’t like women walking alone in the city.

why she doesn’t just park in the underground garage baffles him.

“uh, at like 9:30.” she looks at her watch. it was four hours til.

“i was thinking..” he says, hesitating because he doesn’t want her to freak out. “hear me out.”

“..okay?”

“can you and possum come with me to visit the lake?” he refers to oaklynn as “possum” because he thinks she looks exactly like one.

she scoffed and clicked auto start when they got close enough to her camry. “why?”

ash tsked. explaining how sad and lonely and bored he is, and that the idea of going to the lake told by hans retold by chantelle sounded intriguing.

it’s true. lately he really has been sad and lonely and bored.

especially lonely.

caroline, a friend of a friend invited to one of ash’s parties, got tangled up in bed with him. ash, abandoning his celibacy, fell for her hard after mere days of them getting to know each other.

she wasn’t into relationships but ash didn’t get the message right away. not until she had to spell it out for him. needless to say he ended things, despite being completely head over heels over her. he can’t allow himself to fall more in love with someone who doesn’t feel the same way.

he’s called many of his girlfriends and boyfriends “the one”. caroline was no different. he heals and copes in his own way and soon enough, the ash we all know and love will bounce back.

chantelle knows all about ash’s recent heartbreak. he won’t shut up about it, at least not for the next week or so. and he’s been filling up his schedule 24/7 so he doesn’t have any time to linger on emotions. which, granted, is unhealthy to do.

chantelle thought about it for a moment as she got in her car and rolled down the window to look at him.

“fine. but only for an hour. and pick us up.”

ash moved aside her pointed, manicured finger in his face with a wave and laugh. “you have my word.”

˚ · .

the lake was huge and beautiful and vast, just like hans made it out to be. much more vast than any of them thought.

the half hour drive there was pleasant too, ash played music he knew is favorite lesbians would love. he brought chairs and firewood and swim trunks. hoping he could speedrun all his fun in the short hour deadline chantelle gave him.

he parked and the girls got out, taking a look around. it was getting pretty dark already and with darkness came the cold.

surely, the lake had cooled down to a temperature that none of them would like, but it didn’t stop ash from zooming past chantelle and oaklynn with light speed toward the water. he ran onto the wooden platform and jumped dramatically in.

ash surfaced immediately, comically freezing. if it were a cartoon he’d be blue and icy, bobbing in the water with his teeth chattering.

“jesus!” he yells, swimming around to try to get used to it but the water was just too nippy. oaklynn was cackling at the whole scene but chantelle was just irritated.

she went back to his car to find the foldable chairs and brought them out. placing them upright in front of a firepit.

she chuckled but it was more of a scoff— even outside of work chantelle found herself assisting her boss. she also brought ash’s towel and laid it out on a chair to get warm by the fire oaklynn began to make.

oaklynn is very outdoorsy. she used to be a girlscout and her favorite hobbies are hiking and mushroom picking. not to mention she’s a florist.

ash tried swimming around for at least a few more minutes but before he knew it, he was running out, frigid and shaky. he darted to his fluffy blue towel that was warm and cozy and started to smell like campfire smoke. he wrapped it around himself and sat down with satisfaction and comfort.

“knew that wasn’t a good idea.” oaklynn said with a giggle at ash.

“what.. do you.. mean? i.. had.. so much.. fun!” he said between teeth chatters, his cheeks and eyelashes glistening with drops.

they all chatted there around the fire for a good amount of time. well, chantelle was mostly silent while her chatty girlfriend conversed with her boss.

oaklynn and ash are well adjusted friends now, they’re past all the formalities. ash used to talk so much about professional subjects like work and networking and whatnot, but he dropped the act once he realized oaklynn wasn’t for it.

she’s into genuine, real conversations about things like hobbies and shared experiences. her storytelling is unmatched, going on and on about every little detail about childhood or trips or mishaps. the way she can entrance and keep someone on the edge of their seats, eager to hear her next words, was something chantelle wished she had more of in her.

ash developed love for the two being together and would be absolutely heartbroken if they ever broke up. more heartbroken than either of them maybe.

once ash was dry and clothed again, he got out skewers and a pack of hotdogs from the trunk.

“did you bring buns?” chantelle asks, looking around and seeing just the skewers and sausages.

ash was speechless, his mouth hung open a little as he remembered he completely forgot to bring the hotdog buns he left on the counter.

“um..”

“of course you didn’t.”

“hey..” oaklynn says, extending her little hand out to touch chantelle’s shoulder. “it’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“yeah tellie don’t worry about it!”

something about ash, especially when he called her that, made chantelle even more irritated. she looked at the time on her phone.

8:01 pm

she tsked and tried her best to remain unaffected. “we should probably head back soon.”

“nah,” ash says, also noticing the hour. “we have plenty of time! here, let’s make these weenies!”

ash loves hotdogs. even when they don’t have a bun or chilli slathered all over it, he still enjoys them. but often times, he drops them. if the floor or counter is his own, he’ll 5 second rule it. but, here, on this sandy, dirty earth floor, he doesn’t risk it.

one fell after another, making oaklynn lose her shit from laughing at him across the fire. the hotdogs covered in dirt and twigs and soot rolling away from him on the ground took her out.

his fourth hotdog dropping was chantelle’s breaking point.

“just fucking-“ she grabs the pack of hotdogs from him, rips open the plastic, and stabs a skewer through one. handing that to him before she stormed away to sit in the car by herself.

…“what’s got her so worked up?” was the last thing she heard distantly from ash’s mouth to her girlfriend as she slammed the door shut. it irritated her even more.

“i-“ oaklynn says, turning to ash from staring at the car. she had no idea if chantelle is looking back at them, the windows are tinted probably an illegal amount. they’re completely opaque black. “i don’t know. she’s never usually like this.”

“everything ive been doing since we got here has pissed her off. i mean, this morning she was so happy.”

oaklynn shrugs, worried about her girl. after all it’s their anniversary, you’d think she’d be super joyful and laid back today. but, come to think of it…

“do you remember last year?” oaklynn asks ash, recalling their last anniversary. ash wasn’t present of course but he knows what happened.

one of chantelle’s brothers showed up at her place asking her if he could stay with her. he isn’t the best person, though. his lifestyle is extraordinarily different than hers. chantelle, strong and intelligent and passionate, found her way in life by hard work and honesty. her brother jamal however, has gotten by with many.. many cut corners. he’s no stranger to the streets and he’s been on parole more times than you can count on one hand.

chantelle didn’t know how to react when she opened the door to jamal. he just stood there, chin up acting like he wasn’t in desperate need of her help. acting like a thug even though chantelle knows deep down he isn’t one. she’s known him so well ever since they were little.

oaklynn was in the kitchen at a barstool, unbeknownst to what was going at the door. she didn’t even know who was there. one moment, her girlfriend is cooking a loving homemade brisket dinner for her, the next she’s yelling at someone behind a heavy, shut front door.

when she came in again, her older brother trailed behind her, following her into the nice apartment.

“wow.. this what you been doing away from home?” he said, his way of complimenting. “you makin a bag, huh?”

she never responded. not wanting to even remember her old life with her family in miami.

“oaklynn,” she cleared her throat, looking anywhere but her girlfriends eyes. “this is jamal, my brother.”

“what’s good?” he says, giving her a head nod instead of a handshake, even though oaklynn tried greeting him with one. her pale hand dropped to her lap when she realized he wasn’t going to extend his.

the whole night chantelle was tense. nothing happened, but she still cut the food with frustration. still eyed the door like some other man she used to know would walk in. the stress displayed on her face the whole time they ate their anniversary dinner. which was odd, because the year prior they did the same thing but they were excited and happy and free. oaklynn swallowed the lump in her throat and pushed away the mere idea of the tension being related to their relationship. she was and is and forever will be in love with the woman that is chantelle.

jamal’s presence brought chantelle’s entire mood down, replacing her fluffy white cloud with a dark, rainy one. despite it all oaklynn still kissed her goodnight when the two parted, and she told her how much she loved her. how much she’ll always love her- stressed out and all.

ash bit his lip as they talked about it. feeling like an asshole. this was their day, and while oaklynn certainly doesn’t mind company, it’s apparent that chantelle does. he gave her his word that it would only be one hour.

she was being kind and polite coming here with him because of how alone he’s been, but the way he prolonged their hour into now two hours was wildly inconsiderate of him.

he dug around in his athletic shorts pocket for his keys. after finding them he clicked the button, starting his car from all the way over by the fire.

only, it didn’t start.

that’s odd..

he’ll start it when they pack up and put the fire out he guesses. but once they’ve done that and theyre all packed into the audi, his start button just won’t turn the engine over.

he kept pushing it and the car sounded horrible.

“wait right here.” he says and exits the car, coming up to the front to pop the hood.

when he does he realizes he has no fucking clue why did that. he knows absolutely nothing about engines. nothing about what he’s looking at. the whole reason why he bought a luxury german car was so that he didn’t ever have to worry about the engine. it’s meant to be reliable.

but at the end of the day. it’s a car. it’s not never going to break.

oaklynn comes out and quietly stands beside ash. they’re silent for a moment while he pretends like he knows what he’s looking at, his hands planted on his hips like a concerned father.

“..should i call jer?” she says after a long moment of them staring at the engine.

“your mechanic cousin?”

oaklynn nods, “mhm! he actually lives outside of town too so he’s in the area.”

ash bit the inside of his cheek after he agreed. he’s never met jericho but he’s heard about him. oaklynn has tried to get them to come to a few of ash’s parties but he never showed up.

“i’ll call him,” oaklynn says as she pulls out her phone, walking away to get a smidge of privacy.

ash shuts the hood and sighs, thinking of this mystery mechanic.

if all goes well, maybe ash could become this jericho guys’ new regular. he had a tiny crack in his windshield he was hoping to get fixed soon, that’d be a good opportunity for a potential return.

oaklynn came back, crunching the gravel with her yellow flip flops. she told ash he was on his way and will be here in a few minutes with tools.

“he must be quite the gentleman. i’ll have to pay him generously.”

“oh don’t bother,” she waved it off. “they won’t accept any money, especially if the situation has anything to do with me.”

“doesn’t except money huh?” ash wiggled his brows. “i’ll have to pay him in another way.” he joked, pushing his tongue to his cheek and moving his balled up hand back and forth.

oaklynn laughed her cheeky, loud laugh and slapped his arm playfully at him mocking a blowjob. “you fucking freeeakk!” she yelled.

ash squinted with his smiles and held his arm, acting like her short frame could ever do any real harm to him. in fact he barely even felt her slap at all.

he noticed oaklynns grin fade away and he followed her line of vision. it was chantelle- she was out of the car and walking to the lake in frustration.

the time was 8:38, they’d surely miss the reservation and have to give up their table. not to mention it would set back the time they set aside to go to the movies.

“you should go talk to her.” oaklynn says.

“what? no, she doesn’t want to deal with me right now, i can tell. you go possum, you’re her partner.”

“ash.”

he turns to look at her, prying his eyes away from chantelle’s moody silhouette at the lake. “yeah?”

“go.”

it didn’t take much convincing, plopping his jingly keys into the little hand of the woman beside him. as he walked up to his assistant he heard the sound of a car pulling up on the gravel.

it took everything in him not to just ditch chantelle and run up to the gorgeous, glossed, blacked out car with a wing that just arrived. he didn’t even know what kind of car it was. he had to force himself to turn his head away as a boy in a black hoodie stepped out to greet their cousin.

right now, his focus was chantelle, and nothing else. he willed the world to fade away around them so he could comfort her. because at the end of the day, she was not only his secretary but his real friend.

it didn’t look it though with the way she glared at him through wet lashes. “what?” she grunts, keeping her composure the best she could.

“i’ll get you another reservation at casa bellissima.”

she doesn’t reply.

not even after a few minutes. ash struggles to find the right words, getting distracted every other second because he so desperately wants to look behind him and see this mysterious mechanic cousin of oaklynn’s hook up jumper cables to his audi. he oh so wishes he could help.

“it’s not about the restaurant.” she finally speaks, waking him out of his daze.

“what’s up then?”

chantelle sighs. “i just wanted this night to go perfect. to spend time alone with oaklynn..” she says, gesturing her hands.

“the way i see it,” he treads carefully, knowing he isn’t the best with reassuring words. “this night hasn’t been so bad. i mean yeah my car died but you’ll still get to go home with her. look, we’re saved.” ash motions to jericho. “you’re not stuck here with your obnoxious boss all night.”

“you’re not obnoxious,” she replies with a slight laugh.

“don’t lie,” he chuckles back, skipping a smooth stone perfectly across the lake. it goes for nine jumps.

he hands another smooth one to chantelle. hers only skips for two jumps before failing and drowning down to the bottom.

another sigh escaped her, this time more relaxed. “i was.. going to propose tonight. i have the ring on the dresser next to the dress i was going to wear.”

ash’s jaw drops and he finds her hand immediately, squeezing it. “oh my god, are you serious?”

she smiles and her free hand goes up to her teary, mascara ruined bottom lashes.

ash wipes them for her with his thumb. “i’m so sorry, i would have never kept you guys like this if i had known.”

“i know, i know.”

“why didn’t you tell me?”

“because..” she looks at the lake again and takes her hand away from his loving yet tight grip. “i know how you are. you’re going to want to pick my hair and pick my ring and pick everything. sometimes i just have to tell you after it’s all said and done because that way.. you’re happy for me with no conditions.”

“i’m always happy for you, chantelle.” he shakes his head and shuts his eyes. “god, im so sorry and you’re right. i know i unintentionally micro manage.”

“it’s in your nature, you can’t help it.”

it’s silent for a moment before she restarts. “that was rude- i didn’t mean it that way. i meant to say i would never ask you to change. you’re yourself, and i love you, asher.”

he swallowed and laughed as he realized a tear fell down his cheek. “i’m supposed to be comforting you, girl. come here.”

he pulled chantelle into a movie-scene like hug. it was long, and warm, and strong. only pulling away so that ash could scrub his face- getting rid of his teary eyes so he could walk up this gravel with chantelle and meet this guy.

“she’ll say yes, by the way. i know it.” he whispers.

as they walked up, ash’s heart took a nose dive straight to his dick after seeing oaklynn’s cousin, completely taking him out of the warm, platonic moment just shared second ago.

he made a noise to which chantelle got startled by. it was like a shocked gasp-laugh.

“how long has oaklynn been concealing this absolute stud muffin?!” he whisper shouted to her. chantelle just hit his arm, her way of silently telling him “shut up!”

“hey!” jericho waves, one of his hands wearing a black rubber glove, the other bare. “sick a4 you have here, what’s her name?”

ash winces in embarrassment. “name?”

“don’t you name your cars?” he smiles. ash feels himself fold at the sight.

“n-no.. should i?”

“absolutely. this is cobra, for example.”

oh my god, ash thinks. it’s even cooler up close. there’s a few dents in the body but since it’s black it’s hardly noticeable. the shape was so fluid and compact and looked vastly different from his own, heavier sedan.

“what is it?” he wonders out loud, taking it all in.

“a ‘95 rx-7. she’s a little dinged up,” jericho rubs the roof of it lovingly, it’s definitely his daily. “you should see my supra, it’s a beast.”

this guy is totally carsexual. he’s got more than one? and ash has no clue what he’s talking about. “supra?”

jericho purses his lips together to not smile. ash was a complete noob. “i’ll show you sometime.”

they introduce themselves and shake hands. to which ash forgets to let go, too focused on looking at the scar running through his eyebrow as he’s close enough to see it. it was jagged but long since healed over— totally badass.

meanwhile jericho took in ash’s appearance. sapphire eyes, inky black hair, and a single mole below his bottom lip to the right. handsome was an understatement.

once jericho finally got ash’s car started, they bid their adieu. but not before he smoothly gave ash the address to the shop he half owns and works at. “in case anything else happens to your cruelly unnamed ride” they had said.

ash put his hands on his cheeks. treating his fingers like water and his face was fire— attempting to put out all this heat. he wasn’t used to being the one getting talked up.

he typically did the talking. he was the one who was supposed to be charismatic and charming and smooth. but here he was, driving his friends back without a word out of his usually chatty mouth.

“you should bring jericho around more often so ash stays quiet like this,” chantelle said to oaklynn who was sat in the backseat.

“oh shut up,” ash managed to get out, pulling into chantelle’s apartment complex parking lot. he parked in the handicap spot effortlessly and got an earful from miss righteous planet-loving 5 foot nothing. how’s the weather down there? is his go-to response with her.

as oaklynn headed in, chantelle got hung up by ash. his tinted window rolled down and her leaning into it. “are you going to do it tonight?” he asks.

chantelle avoids his gaze. she shrugs and smiles, “if the timing is right.”

“oh cmon, the timing is always right. you guys are meant to be.”

chantelle said goodbye after ash told her he better see a ring on her finger the next time she clocks into work.

he hopes it’s a large shiny rock but knowing chantelle, she’ll be wearing a simple gold band on her own finger. it’s oaklynn who’ll have a little beautiful stone.

on his drive home, ash daydreams about getting a ring for someone one day. how he’d go all out and spoil the shit out of some lucky person. he’d drop a brick on something so extravagant just because he can and it’d put everyone else to shame.

coincidentally the radio began playing that’s what i like by bruno mars and he started laughing. this annoying ass, corny song was ash’s anthem he thought. or would be his anthem if he had a special someone to spoil.

he finds himself also thinking of names for his audi, just so he could see jericho again.

˚ · .

as always jericho copyright dylan :-) TY for reading!

[zorilleerrant]

Clark is not having a good time in Ace's body. Ace has amazing skills, but those are all down to training, so for someone who not only knows how to use his body, but any canine body at all? Clark can probably master running - not fast, not without seriously injuring himself - and biting, but that's it. JP, on the other hand, will do fine in a body with similar stamina and conditioning to his own (altho I think as of current continuity his fighting skill is tied to his suit, not his mind, so that would be a hindrance). Jon-el presumably knows how to Shazam (which is not that secret within the superhero community), but interestingly his Captain form would probably look different and might have different powers, more similar to his own. So I think he'd be at the best advantage, power-wise. Cap would definitely put a damper on what he's allowed to do, though.

Ace is not going to be much help. He can probably still tackle people pretty well, which could be a decent benefit in some situations, but biting and scratching wouldn't work very well in his new body, and he wouldn't be able to modify it quickly. However, I also don't think he's a big danger to himself or his teammates, because he knows and trusts Garth, who has a lot of experience with animal handling. (I do assume Ace still recognizes Garth, because he tends to have that kind of mildly supernatural skill, as most dogs, cats, and horses do.) However, this does mean Garth has to command Ace, leaving him not entirely free to use his own powers. He's familiar with magic enough that he's probably quick to intuit them, but his attention is split. Mr. Terrific is going to have a huge advantage, though, because he fights using technology and he's got a sudden upgrade in the tech available to him, in a body that's not that much less conditioned. He can also trust his teammates to take care of each other, and is free to work on his own, unlike the other team.

Superboy is going to have to contend with his dad trying to micromanage him, while also not even being able to tell him anything. Clark will have all his attention taken up by trying to do that, getting in the way a lot. And while Superboy can probably just fly away and ignore him, he's going to have a lot of mental pressure to listen to his dad, and a strong urge to try to resolve this through negotiation, rather than fighting, making fighting difficult. He'll also feel a strong moral push to invite Azrael onto his team and treat him like family, which will either work very well or very poorly, depending on JP's attitude towards his new team. It's possible he'll think this is all in his head and he has to resist forming any team, but it's also possible he'll hold the need to work together above that. Unfortunately, the only member of the team he'll recognize is Ace, and he knows for sure that's not right. So I think it's more likely both of them will antagonize Cap. If Cap is driving, this will only somewhat hamper him, although confusion will do a lot to make things difficult. But if Superboy is driving, he'll have a whole bunch of new voices inside his head, plus two teammates hassling him, and won't be able to fight very well.

Mr. Terrific will, as usual, go for the heavy hitter first, with technology that could take down a kryptonian, which will either fake out Superboy long enough to take him down, or at least distract Cap momentarily. It's likely Blue Beetle has something in his arsenal that can physically trap Cap for a while, although it does depend on how long everyone needs to be incapacitated for a win condition. Garth will probably physically pick up Ace's body to be sure he's gentle enough with it, but have Ace tackle Azrael, who can't hold up to Ace's new stamina, even though he lacks finesse. Garth's new body can channel the magic he's been trained to use, so if he can get off a quick and dirty spell from memory to bind Cap long enough to win the match, then Team 16 will win, otherwise I think they'll have to run out the clock, since I don't think anyone involved is willing to kill anyone else involved. (JPV will avoid killing if he thinks it's a trick because he'll think it's a test of his morality, and otherwise he'll recognize that these aren't his enemies.)

The DC Body Swap Brawl

Round 1, Brawl 8

Location: Gotham City Docks

It's nighttime at the docks. Barges stacked with shipping containers rest silently in the water, and tall warehouses wall off the area. Flood lights illuminate where the asphalt ground drops off to the murky water below.

Team 15

Clark Kent (Superman) in the body of Ace the Bat-Hound

Jean-Paul Valley (Azrael) in the body of Michael Holt (Mr. Terrific)

Jon Kent (Superboy) in the body of Billy Batson (Captain Marvel)

Team 16

Ace the Bat-Hound in the body of Mark Moonrider

Garth (Tempest/Aqualad) in the body of Orion

Michael Holt (Mr. Terrific) in the body of Ted Kord (Blue Beetle)

Discuss how you think the fight will go in the notes, and in a week we'll vote to see who comes out on top!

Brawl Rules | General Rules | Bracket

[lemon-muncher]

Can u do a rin okumera or shima renzo x male reader pls?

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS REQUEST FOR SO LONG!!!!!

I'm not sure if you wanted Rin to be dominant or submissive but I made him a sub in this since that's how I usually write characters. If you want a dom Rin, please let me know!!

Due to Rin being the son of Satan and everything, I wanted to include 'demon-like' urges for him. I was also thinking of making the reader a succubus, so making him a sex demon would help with the dom/sub roles within this.

Sub Rin Okumura x Male Demon Reader

It was pitch black within the woods. The trees seemed to bend over your head, casting shadows of the seen and unseen creatures. The only form of light came from the bright moonlight that seeped between the treetops. The sounds of crickets and grasshoppers nearby echoed in the small yet large wooded area. To some people, this scenery would make you uneasy, making you feel vulnerable to anything that was lurking nearby. To others, it would be peaceful and relaxing, a place to feel like you could be yourself. To Rin Okumura, one of the sons of Satan, it was unsure how the position he was in should make him feel.

There he laid on the hard, dirt covered ground, his chest scratching against the tiny rocks on the ground with your larger claw-like fingers down his throat. "Such a pretty prince~ " Your sultry voice echoed in his ear as tears fell from the demon's eyes. His small body was trapped under your much stronger one, pinning him to the ground. Your tail wrapped around his waist, leaving little to no room to move. Rin only stared at the tree his katana leaned against in betrayal for not being within arm's reach, leaving him powerless and completely at your mercy.

"Come on now, Princey~ I know you want this too." Rin flinched as he felt the head of your cock press up against his ass. "Just accept the fact that you have the same hunger as me!" Lust was spread across your face, not that Rin could physically see it. But he felt it. The scent of it leaked from every pore in your body. You reeked of it and Rin wasn't sure if he could handle anymore before his own internal lust overpowered his rational. You roughly pulled your fingers out of his mouth only to pull at his black hair. The sudden movement pulled a wild moan from the boy's body. "Admit it! You want me to destroy you! Wreck you! Fuck you until the only thing you can think of is me!" You rambled on about his hidden urges. And Rin wasn't sure if it was because you were talking for so long or if he truly did believe you, but he knew you were right.

You slowly and painfully pushed into the boy's body, his blue eyes closing as tears fell from them. "Fuck~ I knew you'd be good but damn I never expected you to suck me in like this, Prince!" Rin instinctively pushed himself back against you. His body moved as if had a mind of his own. "Please... just dO SomeTHing~" He moaned aimlessly into the ground, his toes curling at the new and addicting feeling. You, fulfilling your own sexual hunger, grinned at the pathetic sight in front of you. You piston your hips to meet the other males, using him as your own personal fleshlight.

Saliva gathered in your mouth, the feeling of using one of Satan's sons as your own toy gave you a power drive unlike any you've felt before. The male under you babbling nonsense, spreading his own lust drove you mad like a dog. His eyes were rolled to the back of his head, his hair now messy from all the pulling you've done. It was absolutely delicious. What was better was the sight of his body trembling, his orgasm taking you both by surprise. He clenched around your cock, causing you to empty yourself out into him.

The once noisy woods became quiet with only the sound of heavy breathing being heard. "...Was that ok?" You asked the male under you. He only turned his head to show you is tear filled eyes and smiled wildly. Your tail unwrapped around his waist and slightly wagged, knowing you pleased him. Who knew actually agree to roleplay with your boyfriend would be enjoyable.

"Horny fucker..."

HA! Bet you weren't expecting that ending were you ;) Anyways if you want to see more or request anything else, let me know

[tokusaatsus]

WHY THEY DON’T CONFESS TO YOU

ft. HiMERU, sena izumi, tenshouin eichi

© tokusaatsus 2022

warnings: spoilers for himeru’s backstory, mentions of hospitals in eichi’s

Because it would be a lie

HiMERU would tell you they love you, except that’s not quite true. HiMERU doesn’t love you. HiMERU doesn’t even know you. As far as HiMERU is concerned, they’ve never met, interacted with, or spoken to the person known as L/N Y/N.

L/N Y/N and HiMERU do not exist in the same circles. There is only the tiniest bit of overlap, caused by Crazy:B and CosPro. And yet, that tiny space allowed the two of you to meet. It’s the butterfly effect. Spiralling and spiralling and spiralling.

However, ⬛⬛⬛⬛ does love you. But ⬛⬛⬛⬛ can’t tell you that they love you, because they do not exist. Not anymore. Maybe once, a long time ago, but now? ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is not a real person. The only person who could ever claim to know ⬛⬛⬛⬛ is now lying in a hospital bed, trapped in that liminal space between waking and unconsciousness. You might even say that ⬛⬛⬛⬛ never really existed in the first place, because if no one is awake enough to remember you, then are you truly living?

Are you in a perpetual state of limbo? Schrödinger’s idol, perhaps, where you both exist and don’t.

It’s a paradox, ⬛⬛⬛⬛ thinks. They love you, but they can’t tell you. HiMERU doesn’t love you, but HiMERU can tell you.

It would be cruel, ⬛⬛⬛⬛ reflects, to tell you HiMERU loves you when it is a lie.

You have always treated them with a sort of softness, a direct contrast to how you treat Amagi. The two of you are always bickering, bickering, bickering. Shiina once likened it to pigtail pulling–what children do on the playground when they are unable to express their true feelings–and HiMERU supposes that wouldn’t be an entirely wrong way of looking at it.

HiMERU isn’t blind. They see the way you look at them sometimes, during practice. Stealing glances, then looking away the minute your eyes meet. But that’s just it, isn’t it? You love HiMERU. Not ⬛⬛⬛⬛. Never ⬛⬛⬛⬛, because you don’t know ⬛⬛⬛⬛ so how could you love ​​⬛⬛⬛⬛? That’s the thing, see. You couldn’t.

So HiMERU won’t lie to you. ⬛⬛⬛⬛ will continue to love you as they always have and they will do so quietly–then you will move on and one day find someone who can truly, truly reciprocate your feelings and you will forget. Forget about HiMERU and ⬛⬛⬛⬛ and the blue-haired idol who made your heart skip a beat once upon a time.

He’s scared of being abandoned

Izumi won’t say he loves you.

That might be too broad of a term. Sure, he’s fond of you. Your personality doesn’t grate on him like so many others do, and you don’t try to get close to him out of some misguided attempt at pity. It helps that while you’re sweet on him, you don’t take any of his bullshit.

He knows what your favourite colour is, and why you always cry at this one specific commercial, and why you hate that one flavour and go out of your way to avoid it–and in return, you know what his favourite songs are, and why he hates painting his own nails, and why he likes stupid rom-coms.

And he can admit, he does like you more than most people. He’s listened to you moon over other boys and girls with a dreamy expression on your face, and forcing down that instinctual urge to give a scathing remark is getting a lot harder when he sees how you carelessly give your heart away to people who don’t deserve it right now and who probably never will.

(Yes, he’s aware he might be feeling a tad bit…jealous. Sue him.)

He can tell the others–well, mostly Naru-kun–may be picking up on his, ugh, feelings because she always gives him knowing glances whenever she sees him chatting with you in the hallways.

Y/N-chan is rather good-looking, no? Well, yes, it’s not like he hasn’t noticed? But whatever Naru-kun is hoping will happen is never going to, so she might as well stop getting her hopes up. You never even look at him. You’re always dreaming, head in the clouds. One day, you might go somewhere far beyond his reach, and then what?

Izumi is tired of being left behind.

He’s tired of waiting, waiting, always waiting for someone to come back. He’s tired of waiting for proof that he’s truly wanted. He’s been tired for a long while now, actually, but he’s never known how to do anything except wait and wait and wait and hope that they will return to him one day and they will tell him what he did wrong so he can prevent it from happening again.

It happened with…him. He’s not going to let it happen to you, too.

Besides, what you have right now is perfectly fine. So what if his glances linger sometimes and his touches last a little too long? It’s not like you’ll ever notice, anyways.

He thinks he’s going to die

Eichi knows he’s living on borrowed time. He’s known it for a long time. He might even have been born with this knowledge and isn’t that sad? Knowing that you are going to die just as you take your first breath.

There are so many things he hasn’t done yet. He hasn’t gone on a rollercoaster. He hasn’t eaten so much candy until he’s sick of it. He hasn’t had a scary movie marathon, he hasn’t stayed up until past midnight chatting with a friend on the other side of the world, he hasn’t sampled foods from around the globe.

He hasn’t told you he loves you.

There’s something that sets apart that last one from the rest of the items, though. On TENSHOUIN EICHI’S 100 THINGS I WANT TO DO BEFORE I DIE list, it would be at the very top in bold black ink, pressed in his looping script. TELL Y/N I LOVE YOU. Taunting him, because it still hasn’t been fulfilled and likely never will.

Oh, he knows he could tell you. You might even reciprocate. The chances of that are quite high. After all, he knows you. But he won’t.

And that’s the problem.

If he told you, it would be sweet, almost cloyingly so. He can already picture the confession. He would take you out to your favourite café, he would pay for your food, and then you would walk hand-in-hand under the sakura trees and the petals would shower over you two and Eichi would take your hands in his and he would say: Y/N, I love you. We are already partners, in every sense of the term except the romantic one. But we could be. What do you say?

You would say yes and then kiss him afterwards, under the veil of pink, with your fingers buried in his hair and his arms wrapped around your waist. And then you two would date and it would be your happily ever after.

That’s all well and good, until Eichi’s heart stops working the way it should and he’s rushed to a hospital with its cold, impersonal rooms and sterile steel instruments and beeping heart monitor and you would sit at his bedside and weep and weep and weep with his fingers clutched in yours as the ticking clock of his lifeline slowly faded into static: beeeeeeeep.

How could he do that to you?

Here’s your answer: he can’t.

notes!

WC: 1.2k words

reze txt hi. i ghostwrote this in 2 hours. no beta we die like men (lies a lil beta thanks grammarly i owe u one fr) i just like seeing y’all cry. enjoy <33

[the-last-kenobi]

If you’re still taking requests (feel no pressure to do this) 14 with Obi-wan and a knight Anakin because that sounds very much like him

A fluff prompt!! I’m so excited, thank you! 🤍

From this various prompts list.

Requests are currently closed.

_

Obi-Wan Kenobi had not slept in three nights, and his Lineage was not happy about it.

Ahsoka and Anakin watched with narrowed eyes from a balcony as the Jedi Master mingled with the crowd, smiling softly at anyone who engaged his attention, keeping close to the side of Chancellor Palpatine and Vice Chair Mas Amedda.

For a man who was running on very little sleep and hardly any sustenance, Obi-Wan was managing to maintain the image of the perfect Jedi — civil, humble, charming, wise. Power concealed just below the surface.

Every so often, Palpatine would draw the Jedi deeper into some conversation or other, or pat him on the shoulder in a strangely paternal fashion.

“Why does he keep doing that?” Ahsoka hissed to her Master. “Master Kenobi hates strangers touching him!”

“The Chancellor isn’t a stranger,” Anakin said defensively. But he watched again as Palpatine settled a hand on his former Master’s arm and saw the slight tension creasing Obi-Wan’s forehead, and had to concede that Obi-Wan was feeling uncomfortable. “But yeah. I don’t think the Chancellor knows, he wouldn’t do it if he did. He’s probably just too used to working with me instead. We’re more like friends.”

Ahsoka raised her eyebrows. “And would he have let you go home by now? We were supposed to be able to leave almost two hours ago.”

Anakin sighed. He leaned on the railing, absentmindedly picking at a carved design in the metal with his mech hand, creating a small clicking noise. He scanned the room again, searching for unlikely threats, and then returned his gaze to his Master and his friend, still penned in the center of a colorful crowd all waiting for attention. To see and be seen. Vultures.

Obi-Wan had more patience for this sort of thing, it was true, but it was apparent to those who knew him well — to Anakin — that he was run ragged. That every new face turning in his direction, awed and pettily delighted by meeting both the Supreme Chancellor and a High Jedi General, was another weight on his shoulders.

Anakin glanced over at his Padawan. Ahsoka’s eyes lit up as she saw the look in his eyes.

“How do you wanna do this?” she asked, tapping her fingers excitedly on the banister. “I know you like explosions, but if you set something off, Master Obi-Wan will definitely have to flee with the Chancellor to safety and then he’ll be gone for ages.”

“You’re right, Snips,” Anakin said, and a smirk pulled at his lips. He ruffled his hair proudly, ignoring Ahsoka’s eye roll, and said, “So I’ll take a leaf from Obi-Wan’s book. I’ll just go right down there and use my words.”

Anakin beamed.

Ahsoka looked as if she suddenly preferred an explosion.

-

“Yes, hi, hello, excuse me, coming through, yep, pardon me, just walking here,” Anakin threw scattered, inane apologies in every direction as he plowed a path right through the entire gala.

Ahsoka trailed in his wake, smiling awkwardly at the people who scattered with startled looks and scowling ferociously at those who dared look cross.

Obi-Wan spotted them first. He was deep in conversation with a representative from the Core, but his blue eyes flickered to them briefly and his smile became slightly taut; he raised one of his hands in what might have passed for a wave but was, to his Padawans, a clear signal to turn around.

Anakin disregarded this subtle warning immediately.

He strolled directly up to Obi-Wan, bowed slightly, and put a hand on the Master’s shoulder, smiling blindingly at the representative. “Good evening. I’m afraid it’s time for Master Kenobi to depart. The Jedi thank you for your time.”

The representative raised her eyebrows but said nothing.

Palpatine, on the other hand, suddenly popped up right beside them, a wide smile on his grandfatherly face. “Anakin, Knight Skywalker, how good to see you! I thought you’d gone home hours ago, why, surely you need your rest after that last campaign.”

Anakin kept a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. Ahsoka shifted to stand behind them, smiling a little too widely, the points of her teeth glinting, at anyone who looked at them askance.

“We had quite the victory,” Anakin agreed. He preened slightly. But — “And you’re right, Chancellor, we do need our rest. General Kenobi has served very well, and we’re all eager to rest and prepare for our next deployment.”

Palpatine’s smile widened still further. “Ah, yes. General Kenobi is an incredible public servant, he’s such a delight to have at events such as these.”

This time it was Anakin who tensed slightly. Ahsoka sidled up surreptitiously and linked her arm with Master Obi-Wan’s, flanking him between them, drawn up as tall as she could make herself.

Anakin looked intently at Palpatine, trying to communicate to his friend that now was not the time for politics. He’d thought this would be easy, but the Chancellor seemed determined to keep Kenobi with him all evening. The crowd had begun to disperse, realizing they weren’t going to be receiving any attention for awhile, but they milled about nearby, clearly listening in.

“I—” Obi-Wan began, but Anakin decided to risk his Master’s wrath and just cut him right off.

“And he and I are always happy to be invited by such gracious hosts!” he blurted out quickly. “But sadly, we will have to wait for another invitation before we get the chance to enjoy one another’s company. We really do have to be going.”

Palpatine studied him for a moment.

Go on, Anakin urged him silently. Please. Come on. You know we want to leave.

The silence dragged.

“Master Kenobi,” Palpatine said warmly, turning to Obi-Wan, and Anakin felt a wave of relief. “What do you say? Shall we… let you out of your duties for the sake of your valiant friends?”

Oh, what the fuck?

It had the ring of a joke but was worded like a trap. And Anakin could see, in slow-motion, the flicker of resignation and bitterness deep in Obi-Wan’s blue eyes, just behind the friendly smile, and knew what was about to happen if he didn’t do something about it.

Anakin let out a loud laugh and clapped Obi-Wan on the shoulder again. “Sorry, everyone. We’re on a time crunch, we have to get back in time for dessert.”

Ahsoka laughed, too, and clung a little tighter to Obi-Wan’s arm.

Obi-Wan looked somewhere between confused and horror struck.

Palpatine’s smile froze.

Anakin chuckled and waved at the surrounding crowd, shrugging in a you-know-how-it-is sort of way. “Hey, he promised us milkshakes. General I may be, but I still demand my old Master fulfill his promises of unhealthy desserts.”

“Hey, I think out of everyone, I deserve milkshakes the most!” Ahsoka interjected, her tone teasing.

A few of the politicians shot her amused smiles. Ordinarily she would have bristled, but in this instance she just shot them knowing, conspiratorial looks, like a child deliberately making mischief. There was a ripple of laughter.

“I don’t know about that,” Anakin said. “I think I definitely took out the most droids.”

“Riiiight,” said Ashoka. “After I took out the battlement. By myself.”

They ribbed back and forth. The gala was eating it up, their faces amused and indulgent, intrigued by the display of youthful frivolity and friendship the Jedi were giving them. Obi-Wan was still pinned between them, rooted helplessly to the spot.

Anakin looked back at the Chancellor, expecting a smile.

Instead he got a blank expression — which quickly turned into a loud bark of laughter and a grandfatherly grin. He clapped his hands to gain the attention of the crowd and said, “Oh, I believe our brave Hero and his friends have earned themselves a night out for something as innocent and delightful as milkshakes, don’t you say?”

The crowd laughed and nodded; there was scattered applause, and it was done.

Anakin winked at the Chancellor and then turned on the spot, he and Ahsoka striding out the room with Obi-Wan trapped in the middle, waving and bowing at anyone who smiled in their direction.

The three of them escaped out of the ballroom, down the flight of stairs, and out onto the grand balcony overlooking the landing platform, where their ship was waiting in the semi-darkness of the Coruscant night.

Anakin and Ahsoka turned at the same time to look at Obi-Wan, each of them still holding on to one of the Master’s arms.

There was a long silence.

Obi-Wan stared tiredly down at the speeder for a very long time.

Anakin looked at his Padawan nervously.

But then Obi-Wan’s lips twitched beneath his beard, and then he chuckled, and then he burst into uproarious laughter. The sound was infectious; relieved and excited, the other two clung to him and laughed, all of them half-leaning on the railing, cackling like idiots.

They laughed until they ran out of breath, and then laughed a little more.

After a long while, Obi-Wan disentangled his arms from their controlling grips but immediately settled them back, one on Anakin’s shoulder and the other resting on Ahsoka’s back. “I think,” he said, “I promised you milkshakes. Dex’s?”

“Oh, I definitely remember you saying that!” Ahsoka said. “Dex’s is great.”

“Yeah, and you also definitely said you’d pay,” Anakin wheedled.

“No,” Obi-Wan said firmly.

“Awww. Worth a shot,” Anakin whispered to his Padawan.

Obi-Wan smiled. “I said I’d pay for Ahsoka’s. You, my Knighted former Padawan, can pay for your own dessert.”

Ahsoka cheered. Anakin groaned. They strolled off into the night, ambling without haste or urgency or fear, connected by light touches of the hands and arms, and by something deeper and unseen and familial.

There would be time for the war and politics later.

Right now, they were late for dessert.

fin

[michaelmilligan]

Endversetober Day One: Run

(explanation post) (compilation post)

Adam ran.

While he'd never been very interested in running, or sports in general, it turned out he was kind of good at it. At least given the right motivation.

Being chased by zombies was a pretty solid motivation, it turned out.

When you said that the world was in a 'complicated state', he said, purely in his head, because he needed his freaking breath to keep running.

YES? The being in his head answered idly, but loudly. (Which seemed to be the only volume he had available.) It still made Adam jump every time he talked. Every time the blue hot molasses of archangel moved inside of him, stirred next to his... mind? Soul?

Because apparently souls existed, like, for real. And angels and God and all of that were real, too.

Why, then, were there fucking zombies coming after him?

I didn't exactly picture this, Adam said as he broke through a treeline. And came to a grinding halt as he spotted even more zombies ahead of him. Ah, fuck.

He winced when he realized that particular thought had been sent to the archangel in his head, but Michael only reacted with mild interest.

WHY ARE YOU EVEN RUNNING? he asked.

So I don't get eaten by freaking zombies. Again.

AGAIN? Michael echoed, but the matter of how Adam had died took a backseat as the zombies advanced on them. GIVE ME THE BODY.

Wha- Before Adam could consciously move away – however that even worked, giving up control of your body – Michael pushed into the driver's seat.

For a moment, everything went black, Adam being cut off from the senses of his own body. Then, when he was oriented enough to look again, the zombies were all dead.

Well, deader than before. Actually unmoving now.

Wait, you can do that? Adam asked incredulously.

I'M AN ARCHANGEL. DID YOU REALLY THINK A FEW SLOBBERING, CORRUPTED HUMANS COULD HURT ME?

Then why did you let me run from them for ten minutes?! Maybe it was inappropriate to blow up in an angel's face – mind? – like this, but Adam had really been toyed with and eaten alive by gruesome monsters  more than enough.

IT WAS HARDLY EVEN FIVE MINUTES, Michael just said. I SUPPOSE I NEVER SHOULD HAVE LET YOU TAKE OVER THE BODY IN THE FIRST PLACE.

No no no, that part isn't the issue!

Honestly, Adam had no great desire to pilot the body when there was apparently a zombie apocalypse going on, but he also didn't want to be trapped in the back of his own mind, stuck just watching said apocalypse play out.

Which was funny, he supposed, because he had said yes to helping with the whole actual apocalypse business. Like, end of the world, ushering in paradise, all that good stuff, apocalypse.

Is this what brings about paradise? he asked cautiously. Zombies eating everyone's brains?

Sure, he'd never expected the end of the world to be filled with rainbows and unicorns, but this... this seemed off, somehow. Weren't plagues only sent by God as punishments?

THEY DON'T EAT BRAINS, AS FAR AS I KNOW, Michael said cagily as he manoeuvred Adam's body over some debris.

Whatever had happened in this town, it hadn't been pretty, judging from the thrashed store-fronts and the partially crumbled buildings all around them. There were bodies, too, and Adam felt the urge to check them for life signs, to see if there were any survivors. But his body currently wasn't his, and besides – what if those people did stand up again, and tried to take a bite out of him?

Out of them. They were two now, a human and an archangel sharing the same body.

Weird times apparently called for weird measures, or whatever.

What are we doing in the middle of the hot zone, anyway? Adam asked for probably the third time. But it wasn't his fault that Michael was bad at giving straight answers, or that Adam was anxious as hell over everything that was going on down here.

When they'd entered the fenced-in zone, he had asked Michael about radioactivity. He'd just said that Adam didn't need to worry about that.

He hadn't exactly told him what to worry about instead.

Which were apparently freaking zombies.

Michael gave something like a sigh. It was admittedly difficult to interpret an archangel's thoughts, the flood of images, sounds and colours always overwhelming. But Adam was pretty sure that the strong gust of wind that almost mentally knocked him over was a sigh.

AS I ALREADY TOLD YOU, WE'RE LOOKING FOR MY LANCE. AND GABRIEL WAS LAST SEEN IN THIS AREA.

And Gabriel is the guy who nicked your lance?

A wave of something else overwhelming crashed against Adam, like the tide throwing him over, then pulling him under.

Holy moly. Was that amusement?

YES, THE ARCHANGEL GABRIEL IS THE 'GUY' WHO STOLE IT, Michael said.

Right. Of course it was another archangel they were talking about. Because what even was Adam's life. (After-life? Second life?)

Why did he take it?

HM?

Why did another angel take your lance?

I'M NOT SURE. POSSIBLY SPITE. Michael stopped in front of a building, sizing it up and down with Adam's eyes for a moment before ducking inside.

Angels can feel spite? Adam asked, astonished. This didn't line up with what Pastor Joe had been preaching him. Aren't angels supposed to be perfect beings?

WE ARE, Michael said, but only after a pause.

But there's infighting?

GABRIEL IS... WELL, HE RAN AWAY AND FAKED HIS OWN DEATH. THAT SHOULD TELL YOU EVERYTHING YOU NEED TO KNOW.

He what??

IT WAS ALL VERY DRAMATIC. Another Adam-was-pretty-sure-it-was-a-sigh. HE'S ALWAYS BEEN PRONE TO SUCH ANTICS.

Huh. Since when have you guys known each other? Adam asked as they climbed some stairs. He wasn't sure if Michael thought the lance was here, or if he was just looking for a good vantage point or something, but he didn't question it.

SINCE THE BEGINNING OF TIME. When they came upon a hole in the steps that was too big to jump over, Michael stopped again. It looked like something had fallen through the steps – oh, yeah, the piano that was lying crushed on the ground floor could have been the culprit.

Adam would have wondered how he could even see that from all the way up here, but the casualness with which Michael had mentioned the beginning of time had thrown him for a bit of a loop.

Oh, right. Yeah. Of course two archangels had known each other forever. What had Adam been thinking?

There was a sudden lurch, as if their body was violently thrown through space and time and any other dimension that existed, and then they were suddenly standing on the other side of the hole in the stairs.

What the fuck was that? Adam asked when he'd caught his metaphorical breath again.

HM? Michael just made, continuing his trek upwards.

That... how did you... the hole...

I FLEW OVER IT.

That was flying?!

YES.

They'd arrived at the top of the stairs, and Michael pushed open a security door that had somehow survived whatever had wrecked the rest of this place. It creaked pitifully for a moment until it popped off its hinges and fell, with a slightly comical delay, forwards onto the roof.

It was a flat roof with a low wall surrounding it, made out of the same grey material as the rest of the building. Adam's grandfather would have thrown a fit over this, ranting about accumulating rain water and snow.

HM, Michael made again, but this time not at Adam.

At least Adam was pretty sure of that.

What is it? he asked, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

I DON'T THINK GABRIEL IS IN THIS TOWN ANYMORE.

How do you know?

HIS TRAIL ENDS HERE. Michael stepped closer to the edge of the roof, letting Adam's eyes roam the surrounding buildings.

Wait, you're tracking him? How?

I HAVE MY WAYS.

Adam sighed. Mentally. It wasn't like he had control of his lungs right now.

He wasn't even sure if Michael was using his lungs, if they were breathing at all.

Got it. The archangel Michael works in mysterious ways.

THEY'RE NOT VERY MYSTERIOUS, I JUST DON'T THINK YOU'D UNDERSTAND, Michael said easily.

Wow. Rude. Adam scowled (again, mentally), then quickly added: I mean, you're probably right. But still rude.

Another wave of amusement hit him, throwing him off balance. By the time he was oriented again, they had already flown somewhere else.

[dancingamongstdust]

MHA Scenarios - First Meeting (Part 3)

All Might

There was an ache in your shoulder despite the painkillers. It was persistent, a constant reminder that your time in U.A. was beginning to lower your reaction speed. Perhaps you should consider returning to a full-time career in the hero world instead of taking random jobs here and there.

Sighing, you finished up with your costume and opened the door to find none other than Principle Nezu waiting for you.

“Great timing!” he chirped. “I was about to come and tell you that you’ll be sharing your second-year physical training class today.”

“The class that begins in twenty minutes?”

“That very one. When I found out that you had injured yourself, I thought that it would be best for you to take on an assistant of sort.” Nezu hummed softly to himself, as if wondering if he should continue. “And perhaps it will be a good experience for Toshinori to see how one can balance their time.”

You chuckled, catching onto the principle’s plan. “I don’t think a hero of All Might’s stature would have anything to learn from somebody like me.”

“There’s no doubt that he’s the better hero –“

“You could put that more nicely.”

“But you have far more experience teaching,” Nezu finished. “You take it easy to ensure your continued health and even though you whine about your lack of excitement, you never go out and chase it.”

That was true. Every year, you told the principle that you would be quitting and each time, he would laugh and tell you that you never would. You blamed the students. They were way too easy to get attached to.

All Might was waiting at the training grounds, his hands on his hips and a smile on his face. The latter looked almost painted on. He absolutely towered over you, seemingly taller in person.

“We haven’t met properly before,” you said, giving your name. “But may I just say that I have endless respect for your heroic accomplishments.”

He laughed proudly. “Thank you. Nezu says that you got injured during a fight with a villain, is everything alright?”

There was something about his voice that you didn’t quite like. It just sounded so patently fake. Perhaps that was why you hadn’t been surprised when the news about his true form was shared amongst the faculty. It seemed to you that it should have been a given. Nobody spoke like he did in their day to day lives.

“It’s a shoulder injury,” you said. “In a similar line, you can drop the All Might moniker for a short while if you want. This class is incapable of arriving less than ten minutes late.”

“That’s alright! I’m sure this is a far more useful form.”

“Suit yourself,” you said with a nod. You rolled your shoulder and winced. “I’m going to need to have you taking over the majority of the hands-on training if that’s alright with you? If I push myself now, I’m just going to do more damage to the muscles.”

All Might gave an affirmative and then pondered your words. It was unsurprising when he seemingly vanished into a cloud of smoke, dropping the vast majority of his muscles and showing a far-more human façade.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he acknowledged. “Some rest before teaching would be easier on my injuries.”

You smiled. “The last thing you want to do is let these students think they’re strong enough to take you on just yet. Don’t need that going to their heads.”

Endeavor

It was an accident that led to your first encounter with the recently elected number one hero. And it had mostly been as a result of a very long day filled with endless bad luck.

You had been walking through the parking garage after having coffee spilled on you, losing your keys, and nearly breaking your ankle when an escalator stopped working. It was overall an awful day. And it was about to get even worse.

It must have been as a result of some kind of villain but the exact situation escaped you. All that you knew was that somebody got thrown from out of nowhere. They flew into one of the pillars and cracked it. You jumped and immediately rushed over to them. It was only once you were right beside him that you realised the fire was part of him.

“You’re Endeavor…” you breathed. “Are you alright?”

The hero stood, clearly shaken. A deep scowl covered his face. He was much, much taller than you had thought he would ever be. “Get out of here before you get hurt.”

Before either of you could do anything else though, the ground seemed to tremble, much like an earthquake. You looked up wearily. This was the ground floor so it wasn’t like you could fall through anywhere.

And then the ceiling started to crumble.

You barely had time to react, just screwing your eyes shut and hoping for the best. A wave of heat washed over you. Dust filled your lungs and you coughed as all around you, a cacophony of collapsing rubble filled the air.

An unnatural silence took over.

Slowly, you opened your eyes. It was far too dark with a flickering light illuminating a large cavern of rubble held up by a few of the pillars that were still standing. Powder swirled around you, filling your lungs and making you cough heavily. Then you noticed the reason that you hadn’t gotten so much as a scratch.

Endeavor stood over you, shielding you entirely. He showed no visible discomfort but as you stared, you realised that part of his suit had been ripped and blood trickled down his side.

A few seconds passed and he moved away. In the tight space, he was unable to even stand straight. “Damn it,” he cursed. “There’s no way that Hawks can move any of this nonsense. We’re going to be stuck here until rescue teams arrive.”

You sunk down slowly, sitting against something sharp and putting your hand over your mouth. “I’m going to die,” you whispered. “There’s no air here…”

“Don’t be dramatic,” the pro-hero snapped. “We have plenty of time before the air runs out. If it was just me, I could blast through here in no time.”

“Why can’t you?”

He stared at you as though you were stupid. “Either I would risk bringing the rest of this concrete down on your head or you would stand too close and get burnt. Somehow, I don’t think you would prefer either of those options.”

You shook your head and tried to hold back tears. This day had been worse than any other in your life. Should you call your family and friends? Was it worth worrying them just to hear their voices? Endeavor didn’t seem worried so maybe you should just trust that you would get out and everything would be fine. Or maybe you would die and –

Your thoughts were cut off by him suddenly appearing in front of you. “Relax,” he said. “If you panic, you’re just going to make the entire situation worse.”

“We’re trapped under concrete,” you said. “We could die.”

“You’re not going to die. Now stop being pathetic and find a way to occupy yourself that doesn’t cause a panic attack.”

You swallowed and took a deep breath. “Alright. Alright.”

He nodded, moving considerably further away and then his flames flickered off. And that was your first meeting with Endeavor. Surprisingly, you ended up speaking until you were rescued.

Eraserhead

It had all begun years ago.

You remembered distinctly how you had been sitting in the garden and watching the bees happily buzz past. It was a warm day with a slight saltiness to the air. A perfect time to enjoy the summer as though you had no worries in the world.

Conversation filled the air and you perked up, recognising one of the voices. You had only managed to stand up when a blur of blue hair slammed into your side, pulling you into a tight hug with a happy shout of your name. Laughter filled the air as you nearly fell, unable to even hug back.

“Oboro!” you giggled. “I thought you were only getting back next week!”

He finally let you go and shot you a smile that made the sun look dim. “I was but then my parents said my friends could stay over! Come meet them.”

Oboro had been your closest friend for years but since going to U.A., you had seen less and less of him. That wasn’t to say that you hadn’t kept in contact of course but you missed him greatly.

His friends were… not what you expected.

The exceptionally loud blond was Hizashi Yamada and his quirk was volume-based. He greeted you with a booming shout, apparently having been told about you several times before arriving.

But Shota Aizawa interested you far more. He didn’t speak much and you never did find out his quirk when you were younger. When you’d asked why he wanted to be a hero, he just told you that he liked it. The rest of the week, you developed a bit of a crush on him and spent most of your time trying to impress him.

When the week ended, you didn’t see him again for a very long time and the next time you saw him, it was under circumstances you had never even imagined.

You were wearing a veil to hide your face. There was no dramatic rain or dark thunder on the day of the funeral. Rather fittingly, there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. You liked to imagine that was Oboro’s final gift. A beautiful day to celebrate him.

Yamada had put his hand on your shoulder, subdued and quiet for the first time. He was a pro-hero now and you often saw his face on magazines.

Soon, he left to speak to others and you remained by the grave with only one other.

“Being a hero is more dangerous than I ever thought,” you said, not sure why you were speaking but feeling the urge to regardless. “You and Yamada have to stay as safe as you can, alright? He would want that.”

Aizawa glared at you from the corner of his eye. “How would you know that?”

“Because you were the most important people in the world to him,” you said. “Of course that’s what he would want.”

Aizawa didn’t speak anymore but after a while, he turned to leave. Before going, he paused and looked as though he wanted to say or do something. You met his gaze. It felt as though he could see straight through your veil, revealing the tears that streaked your face. The atmosphere wasn’t uncomfortable. It was just sad.

Still, standing there and just existing helped you to remember the loss wasn’t just your own. When Aizawa left, you turned back to Oboro’s gravestone feeling less alone in the world.

You were going to miss him like hell but you wouldn’t be remembering him by yourself.

Fatgum

As a solitary and underground hero, it was quite rare that you were contacted for big jobs. Rarer still that you took them instead of passing them on.

But something was different about this time.

This time, you had a personal vendetta drawing you to one of your least-favourite jobs – working with other heroes. It wasn’t that you didn’t get along with them but many weren’t in it for actually helping people. That put a bad taste in your mouth.

The job wasn’t technically being led by you purely because the information had come through a larger agency. They hadn’t wanted to pass it off to you alone so now you were sitting in the briefing room, listening to them going over everything that your investigations had revealed. No credit given, of course.

You stood toward the end and offered a simple warning. The villain that you were after had little concern about causing collateral. If anything, he relished in it. Your warning was primarily targeted at some of the heroes whom you knew dealt more with casual villains.

Many of them got overwhelmed when they came up against drug dealers and sex traffickers instead of pickpockets.

And then everybody dispersed, each having their own orders about how they would contribute to a safe arrest.

Leaving you alone. At least, you thought you were alone until somebody spoke behind you.

“Do you know what always calms me down? Taiyaki.”

You startled, though you didn’t let it become noticeable. Instead you turned to find yourself absolutely dwarfed by the BMI hero, Fatgum. Somebody you had always known about but never gotten a chance to meet.

“Do I really look that stressed?” you enquired.

He chuckled. “Not to be rude, but you definitely do.”

You sighed and looked at the documents in your hands. It was probably best that you didn’t have a mirror on you. “I’m worried about this case,” you said. “This guy has slipped through my hands a few too many times.”

Fatgum nodded. “I know how that feels but don’t worry too much. Everybody here is a capable hero and together, we’ll get him for sure.”

You raised an eyebrow. Perhaps a few were capable but not everybody.

“You’re too cynical,” he reprimanded though there was little malice to his words. “You should try to trust the rest of us. At least for long enough to get a little sleep.”

You reached up and touched the bags that had formed under your eyes. “Thank you for your concern but I’ll be perfectly fine.” You shoved the documents into a small bag and slung it over your shoulder. Once you dropped them off at home, you could head back out and see if anything had popped up.

“It’s still pretty early,” Fatgum mused. “What are your plans?”

“I’m going to go and see if any of my sources have found new information.”

“Uwabami was meant to be doing that tonight accourding to the schedule,” he pointed out. “But you’re probably not going to be taking the night off. Why don’t you join me for my patrol? You can keep an ear to the ground and also not continue exhausting yourself.”

Sighing, you glanced over your shoulder at him. “We hardly know each other. Why are you so worried about me?”

He shrugged. “Too many heroes drive themselves crazy with this kind of stuff. Come on. My work study students are great, you’ll love them both.”

There was a reason that you didn’t take any of those on but admittedly his two students were entertaining.

Gang Orca

It was all for the sake of the cameras.

You had to remember that when you were getting up before the sun rose. Everything had to be absolutely perfect about your appearance. If it wasn’t then your little ruse would be seen through by every reporter with half a braincell.

Then you had to get to the setup site and speak with the marketing team secretly. You stood with the team leader to one side, discussing everything like old friends over a cup of coffee.

“Essentially, what we’re looking for is a very breathless and awe-struck victim,” he explained to you. “When you speak to the media, try and make it like you never even thought of Gang Orca much before but now his rescue has made him into your favourite. We’re trying to build a greater trust with the public especially amongst children.”

You pulled a face. “I don’t much like working with kids but for a small increase, I can become quite the lover of them for a short while.”

The guy smiled. “You’re one of the best, otherwise I wouldn’t have hired you. You can get your increase.”

“Thank you. Now let’s get to work.”

You made your way to the ‘accident’ site. The costume team ripped your shirt and you had some fake blood dotted around your head. Nothing to make your injuries too severe but enough for some pity.

And then you climbed under the wreck and waited.

Approved photographers snapped their pictures as you were rescued from your metal prison by the tall Gang Orca. His strength alone was enough to pull the door free. He held his hand out to you while using his other to lift the car high enough to help you out. You made a show of crawling free and then stumbling a little.

With one hand on your head, you leaned against him and stared up with a grateful expression. Cameras flashed and he checked the wreck once more before leading you away for ‘medical treatment’.

Once out of view of the media circus, you straightened and wiped some of the fake blood away from your mouth. “Thank you for the rescue,” you said.

Gang Orca didn’t seem very happy about it at all. It was good that his hero image didn’t need too many smiles.

“I’m going to guess that this wasn’t really your idea?”

He sighed. “No. I don’t like the need to fake rescues when there are real people who should be getting help from a hero.”

“But those people aren’t getting paid to better the public’s opinion of you,” you said. “Twenty minutes here can be what knocks you off lists like ‘scariest heroes’ and similar stuff. That way, you get even more opportunities to save people.”

You couldn’t tell if he was grimacing or not but he definitely appeared to be. It made sense. While some heroes relished in the easier work, many didn’t like the media part of their jobs.

“If you’re happy with it, I’d like your autograph,” you said. “It’ll help me sell the whole situation a lot easier.”

“Alright.”

“For what it’s worth, I don’t have a warm opinion of the media either,” you said. “They’re vultures who benefit from the fall of good heroes. What I, and others, do helps stop the best from being sidelined just because they’re intimidating or unmarketable. You’re in this for the right reason but the news organisations don’t care about that.”

He sighed deeply. “It’s unfortunate that you’re right. Of course, that doesn’t mean I have to be happy with these kinds of arrangements.”

“Few people are.”

Hawks

Being a photographer was competitive work, especially in a world where people could have quirks allowing them to grow cameras from their bodies.

You had to go the extra mile in order to compete with them and carve out a name for yourself. Either you had to be there first or you had to see something that nobody else did. A good intuition never led you astray.

And so, when you found yourself walking down the right street late one afternoon, you just knew that it was time to take out your camera.

The event was nothing catastrophic. Indeed, it seemed that the main danger was people’s stupidity. A fire had started on the bottom floor of an office building and instead of waiting for first responders to do their jobs, people were choosing to make things more difficult by climbing out of windows and stuff like that.

Soon enough, heroes were on the scene and you had your camera ready.

Naturally, Backdraft was the first to arrive and you got some great photos of the rescue hero doing what he did best. The light from the flames perfectly illuminated the hero and made the entire situation feel a great deal more dramatic than it was.

The second hero was a young woman whose name escaped your mind. She assisted the civilians as best she could but, no sooner did she help one down, and the person was practically taken from her arms.

Bright red feathers flew across the scene, darting into the building and pulling every person free by their clothing. They were lowered safely to the ground though many stumbled.

You didn’t lower your camera but you cursed out Hawks under your breath.

Never, in your wildest imagination, did you expect to hear him respond.

“Well, that’s not a very nice thing to say.”

You startled, just about dropping your camera on the ground in shock. He was perched above your head, atop one of the streetlights, a smirk on his face and his visor down. His wings were shorter than usual and the only way you could tell he was even helping with the incident.

“You ruined my photo,” you said. “And she had him, you know?”

“She was moving too slow. The poor guy would have been stuck in the air for several minutes longer and that’s just not good on the heart. Besides, I can make up for your lost photo if you snap a shot in the next three seconds.”

You scoffed. “A photo of you sitting on a streetlight? From this angle?”

“What? Not dramatic enough for you?”

“Not unique enough, more like. You’re the most photographed hero in the whole of Japan. The internet is teeming with images of you from every possible angle, distance, and situation. I’ve seen them all.”

For some reason, that seemed to get to the pro-hero a little and you were surprised when he landed beside you. You were very rarely this close to a pro, your bravado disappearing now that he was actually standing there.

“So you’re saying I’m not worth a photo?”

Part of you felt like saying that he was and quickly taking one but your pride didn’t allow it. “Not when there are lesser-known heroes here. They don’t have crazy stalkers willing to chase them around the city for any picture.”

“And aren’t they luckier for it,” he sighed. “Ah well, your loss. I’ll see you around.”

With a flap of his wings, he was gone and you watched him go, fighting the urge to snap a photo the entire time.

Midnight

Some would call you shallow but interviews were one of your favourite parts of being a hero. Getting to answer questions and engage with the people who admired you was an experience that you just adored. Not only that but they were often the best place to clear up rumours or speculations so long as they were edited well.

With a reliable broadcaster and positive outcomes on all of your latest jobs, you were extremely excited to be offered an interview. You knew there was an ulterior motive of some kind but you hadn’t been sure as to what.

But still, you arrived early, dressed in your hero costume, and had your makeup done up as best as it could be.

And then you watched the interview before you and you quickly realised that the broadcast was doing a segment. One focused on hero costumes.

Your own was quite unique, a step away from the usual appearance of heroes. Personally, you loved it.

The public however was divided on whether it was fashion forward or just a flop.

And clearly that was why individual heroes had been chosen.

Being interviewed at the moment and practically being drilled on the ins-and-outs of her costume was nobody other than Midnight herself. She looked absolutely amazing as ever. A natural on the stage and in the field.

You had to admit however that you didn’t feel comfortable with the questions they were asking her. She answered smoothly but mostly in deflection.

The other heroes around you agreed with your assessment. This felt like an attempt at creating a media circus. Few were interested in participating anymore.

The moment Midnight gave her leave, the producers began gesturing at you. You gave them a look and turned around with the rest of the heroes there.

Midnight was in a bad mood but she put on a smirk when you made eye contact with her.

“We’re leaving,” you told her. “None of us were told that this was going to be working off controversy.” You wanted to apologise that she had been the first to get interrogated but you didn’t know how to do that.

She laughed. “You weren’t expecting there to be a catch?”

“I mean, I was but I thought they were a little better than running a segment that’s so clearly focused on… well…”

“Sex appeal?” Midnight asked.

You awkwardly rubbed the back of your neck. “Yeah. It probably should have tipped us off that we were all around the same status. No real big names aside from your own have worked with this broadcast channel.”

“And nobody will again once I speak to a few contacts,” Midnight said, a hint of bitterness finally seeping into her voice. “Guess that will teach me to give new places a chance. They’re all looking for the big ratings instead of actual interest. Maybe I should just go into being a teacher full time at this rate.”

“Aren’t you already doing that?”

She shushed you. “Not if I don’t say it out loud.”

You laughed and stuck by her as your group exited the building, ignoring the clamoring from the higher-ups who were desperately trying to convince you to stay. The type of people who would take advantage of being able to pressure people into things. Lovely.

“Don’t you hate how rude they are to you?” you asked her. “I get so furious sometimes and my questions are always tame compared to yours.”

She shrugged. “At some point, you get used to it. I don’t think there’s a question out there that would shock me anymore.”

You really hoped you never reached that point.

Mirko

The villain pulled experimentally at his cuffs. He twisted around and began shuffling when he met your eyes.

“Where exactly are you trying to go?”

He grumbled something under his breath and stopped moving. You raised a hand to your head and sighed. At this rate, you were going to wind up with wrinkles. One of your favourite outfits had been destroyed by this little altercation and nobody had even bothered to show up yet. Somebody had called emergency services, right?

“Stop moving, I can hear you,” you snapped.

The villain would have been a greater threat if you hadn’t happened to be shopping in the area. Your quirk was the perfect match for his own and it allowed you to quickly take control of an otherwise dangerous situation.

Now you sat on a bench, him tied to the nearest building support bench, and you waited for somebody to arrive and take him off your hands.

There was a thump somewhere to your right and you lazily looked up from your phone. Only for your heart to kind of stutter.

“Aw, come on! I was told there was going to be some excitement over here!” Mirko complained. “What gives?!”

The rabbit hero was absolutely gorgeous with white hair and legs that went on for literal days. She was the epitome of everything you aspired to be as a hero. What she did was on her own terms and she fought for the thrill of it all.

You had just never expected to actually meet her.

“I’ve dealt with it,” you said once you had gotten over your shock. You gestured towards the villain. “No problems here.”

Mirko bounded over and stuck her face way too close to his. Her nose seemed to twitch in excitement. “You don’t seem so tough,” she scoffed. “I got the call and it said that this was setting itself up to be a good clash! Are you just that good?”

Her eyes fell on you, bright and teasing. A strand of hair fell in front of her face and she huffed it away without breaking eye contact.

“I am,” you said, mostly joking but feeling unable to deny it.

She threw her head back and laughed. “That’s a good answer. I like your confidence.” She eyed what you were wearing. “Your costume could use some work though.”

You chuckled. “It’s actually pretty similar to yours when I’m not interrupted while shopping. I’ve always loved your style.”

She nodded firmly as though that was a given. Then she looked around and raised an eyebrow. “If this moron interrupted your shopping, then what are you doing hanging around with him? You have things to get back to, don’t you?”

You gestured around. “I do but the police haven’t shown up yet.”

“Don’t worry about them,” she scoffed. “I’ll bounce this guy down to the station for you. Don’t waste time just standing around.”

She turned back to the villain just in time for you to both see him run around the corner. He nearly tripped but managed to keep his footing. You glanced at one another and Mirko laughed heartily. “You stay here,” she said. “I can deal with cowards in well under a minute. They always do the same things to ‘throw me off’ or whatever.”

“I’ll come with you,” you said. “It’s technically my fault he got away. And I could always learn a thing or two from the best, right?”

She grinned. “I knew I liked you. Let’s see if you can keep up though.”

Natsuo

On a good summer’s day, there was nothing better than the beach. The waves gently lapping at the shore, soft clouds drifting across the sky, and few children due to the earliness of the day. It was well worth getting up early to watch the sun creep its way over the ocean and begin what was scheduled to be the hottest day of the year.

Not that you would be outside when it hit noon. By that time, ice cream and a nice spot of shade became necessary.

For now though, you waltzed along the beach and enjoyed the sand beneath your feet. As you walked, you kept an eye out for shells though there were scarce. People came every day to collect this time of year.

In a way, that made you sad.

But the lack of shells did mean that you didn’t need to watch where you were walking quite as much. At least, that was your thought process. Shells cut your feet and there were none so why keep an eye on the sand.

The answer is broken bottles.

It was a sake bottle, probably stolen away by some kids to be drunk where their parents wouldn’t see. The searing pain made you think you’d stepped on a jellyfish. Cursing, you jerked your foot away, blood running down into the sand below.

A small wave washed up, taking the bloodied sand away to reveal the culprit.

Struggling to balance, you hopped away from the bottle and sat down, lifting your foot to see the damage. It was a rather deep slice that made you feel quite woozy. Sand was already sitting around the injury and your only option to wash it off was the very salty sea.

“Sorry, do you need some help?”

You glanced behind you to see a guy standing on the boardwalk. His hair was pale and his expression kind. Something about him seemed oddly familiar but you weren’t sure why.

“I stood on a bottle,” you said. “It’s alright.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “Do you need some help getting off the sand?”

You were going to deny the offer but your entire leg felt like it was on fire. The pain was undoubtedly because of your brain flicking through reminders about the danger of stepping on glass. “If you’re alright with it.”

He made his way down to where you were sitting quite quickly and glanced at your foot. “That’s going to need stitches,” he said. He offered his water bottle to you. “You should clean it off and then put some pressure on it before we move it.”

The cut hadn’t seemed that bad to you but you hadn’t really been looking carefully. “Are you sure?” You still took the water though, hissing as you poured it over your cut.

“Very,” he said. “Do you mind your towel getting blood on it?”

“No.”

He used the towel to put pressure on the cut and then helped you stand, hobbling your way off the beach. Once there, he quickly listed off the nearest hospitals.

“Are you a medical student by any chance?” you asked, trying to keep your mind off the pain.

He blushed. “Sorry, is it obvious?”

You laughed. “Just a little but that’s okay. It was good that you happened to be nearby then. Can I get your name?”

He hesitated but then said, “Natsuo. Don’t worry about my family name.”

Curious now, especially given how familiar he looked, you were tempted to push. But you didn’t and instead thanked him again for his help. He turned out to be correct, of course. You did need stitches.

Present Mic

You stretched before going into the office. Everything was sore – an unfortunate result of your late night. It couldn’t have been helped. Train wrecks were rarely planned.

Principle Nezu greeted you warmly when you arrived and then asked you to sit down. “As I’m sure you’ve heard, there was a recent incident on the grounds. Thirteen was badly injured and we’re in need of a new teacher with expertise in natural disaster management.” He smiled at you. “I thought you would be the perfect match.”

You raised an eyebrow. “I was under the impression you were going to try convince me to take a work study student.”

“I’m sure you will one year,” he joked.

“Unlikely but you can always offer.” You sighed and turned your gaze out the window. “I have little care for children. This will be a temporary position, yes?”

“We’ll see how it goes.”

You gave him a look but the principle just sipped at his tea. He already knew that you were going to accept – if only because you had always been a close friend of Thirteen’s. Taking over one class wasn’t going to kill you.

“I don’t have any experience in this,” you reasoned. “Other schools must have teachers who can come and cover classes?”

“None who are as experienced in the field as you are. So I’ve organised with Hizashi Yamada to take you through his methods of teaching and you can convert them over. He’ll be here soon.”

You sunk further into your chair, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “What would you have done if I said no?”

“Been very disappointed, of course.”

Present Mic was a hero you had always admired but you hadn’t ever expected him to be as loud in person as he was in the media. You just about jumped out of your skin when he entered the room dramatically, calling out a greeting.

Nezu gave the introductions and informed you that before doing an actual class, you had a week of acting as an assistant instructor alongside Present Mic.

“Should I invest in earbuds?” you joked.

He laughed but then actually lowered his voice as though you had reminded him. “Don’t worry. If I yell too much in class, Shota tends to come and glare through the doorway until I quieten down.”

You chuckled. “Do you have similar teaching schedules?’

“No but he claims that he can hear me from anywhere in the school. It’s the best way to find him actually. You just yell until he shows up.”

“I’ll take that as lesson number one in how to teach at U.A.”

“Lesson number one is to not take Nemuri’s flirting seriously,” he corrected. “I know it’s very flattering to think that she’s interested but she’s not. If it makes you uncomfortable, you can tell her to stop but she doesn’t always listen. It’s part of her image, you know?”

You raised an eyebrow at Nezu but he just shrugged. That didn’t seem like it was too professional but alright.

You took a deep breath and tried to pretend that this was just going to be temporary. It wasn’t like Nezu had been trying for years to get you involved at the school.

Temporary.

“Which subject do you teach?” you asked as you followed Present Mic from the office.

“English. No crazy action or anything which means you have to work double time to keep the students interested. You’ll have it far easier.”

Nobody really prepared you for the fact that Class 1A didn’t know how to do things the easy way.