#and i swear to god if it was weed that was preventing me from writing all these years i’m gonna be SO MADDDDDDD

[baby--veins]

i’m beginning to think i imagined the love i once saw here. it don’t just go away, i know that much. i have stayed in love so many times long after the love itself had died. so where is the chalk outline. where is our goodbye.

there was a time my voice could reach every corner of this space. but it looks so different now. this place just isn’t the same. tell me when i became something soft to bite into. tell me why you sunk your teeth into me. how the fuck do you sleep at night. how did you make it look so easy.

did i ever know you, was this change in small pieces or all at once. nothing here makes sense to me. tell me what i could have done differently. was there a way to preserve this, keep it from imploding. could i have wrapped this up in bubble wrap or spider webs or rope.

where did you go? where did you go?

[vocalyunho]

Déjà Vu

pairing — bad boy! stoner! Wooyoung x reader (fem)

genre — smut

word count — 3.2k

warnings — mentions of alcohol, smoking, usage of marijuana, shotgunning, lots of making-out, corruption kink, explicit unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), couch sex, clit play, creampie, praise kink, spanking (not really).

synopsis — an empty rooftop, a half smoked stick of high quality grass and the boy who’s made you see the world from a different perspective, will always make you feel more like at home, than your own apartment will.  

✦ a big thank you to @okayjoonie and @starrychannies for letting me write the bad boy! Wooyoung they were talking about.

Wooyoung always thought the moonlight was the reason why he found people so ravishing at night. Their faces shimmered under it, the hue taking turns from a pale golden to a darker one and, at times, a blueish he couldn’t quite explain, yet it was so pretty.

The moon was his first favorite thing, his second being the stars. The mystery they hold, all the secrets they’re hiding…he wishes to know all of them, but he can’t. The closest he can do to finding these secrets is stargazing. Maybe he’s naïve enough to think that through this, the stars will show him everything they know, but they won’t and even if he’s aware of it, he lets himself drown in their mystique. 

“do you see these stars?” Wooyoung broke the silence on the mid lit rooftop, pointing to the star-filled sky.

“which ones?”

“the ones forming a W, there”, he guided your gaze with his finger, leaning to your side of the couch as he did, and you couldn’t help but notice the way his arm brushed yours softly.  

“oh yeah”

“that’s the Cassiopeia constellation…it’s the most recognizable one in the night sky”

“really?”

“yeah”

“it’s pretty”

He didn’t answer, instead a chuckle danced with the soft breeze until it fainted away and the comfortable silence from before came back. The lights of the city illuminate the high rooftop enough to see sufficiently your surroundings, which aren’t many or too interesting to be very honest. A corn yellow couch so old that the stuffing emerges from the slashes of the fabric and a small brownish table that’s only useful for resting your legs, bottles of beer and a white ashtray, decorate the emptiness. If you think about it, it’s funny. It’s funny how you feel more like you’re at home on a rooftop with two old furniture instead of your own apartment. 

“we’re way too small, aren’t we?”, Wooyoung breathed out, “we’re so insignificant to this world”.

At that, you looked at him. You’ll never understand how his mind works, no matter how hard you try but, maybe, this is the reason you fell for him in the first place. It’s the way his eyes glimmer under the stars and the way his mind runs with two hundred miles an hour on situations it doesn’t have to. You inhaled sharply, not really thinking your answer for too long. 

“who cares about being insignificant to the world when you can be significant to that one person?”, you looked at the sky again but felt his gaze falling on you. 

You don’t know if it’s too early to be looking for that one person, but you do know that Wooyoung is the closest you’ll ever be to that. Even if you had to put up with every single one of his flaws, you’d do it and you’d do it for forever and a day. Maybe this rooftop feels like home because he is there to make it feel like home. 

He didn’t answer this time either, instead his hand moved to the pocket of the tight black jeans he is wearing, only to pull out a small clear bag that consists of what seems like oregano, though you know it isn’t. “Let’s get high to that”, he cheered raising the ziplock bag to the sky.

It isn’t a surprise Wooyoung has weed with him, he has all the needed contacts to procure it. Weed was always his getaway from reality and its bullshit, and you can’t blame him for wanting to get away from it. Though every time he’s come over, you’ve only tried it once because being a coward is your number one personality trait and you’re not afraid to admit it.

He sealed up the rolled stick so easily, it sent a weird tingling feeling in the pit of your stomach. You can’t lie, it’s hot. He is hot, and everything that has to do with him gets you stunned. He ran his fingers through the black locks, pushing the hair back before bringing the stick up and as he put it between his lips, he took a glance of your face. “you won’t let me get high alone tonight”, he chuckled “will you?”, and the way he spoke through greeted teeth made your knees push together for the slightest bit of friction.

“getting high is all I need right now”

“good girl”, the flame of his cheap BIC lighter sparked as he moved it close to the stick. The orange color of the artificial fire lit his face, making you notice for the first time of the night the thick silver chain around his neck and when the edge of the stick turned black, the flame went out and so did your view of his exposed neck.

He took a long drag, letting his head fall on the couch as his Adam’s apple bounced up and down in euphoria. “fuck mee”, he laughed, the drug hitting him instantly, and the smoke left his lips with a single frown of them. Your gaze followed the smoke that travelled in all directions till it disappeared and before you could notice he had tilted his head to your side of the couch, a smirk still painted on his features as he extended his arm towards you “take a small hit at first”.  

You did as he said, feeling your head instantly lighter after the short puff. This feels better than the last time you tried it. A second, longer hit made Wooyoung bite his bottom lip to prevent the comment that threatened to leave him and as you handed it back to him, you shifted on your seat to be face to face with him. 

He took a couple more puffs before pressing the stick to your lips and back on his again, with his eyes always on yours. The smoke added to the effect of the green plant being inhaled and, suddenly, the baby hair that are stuck on your forehead felt way too bothersome. With droopy eyes, you clipped them up with your Hello Kitty hairclips that were hanging off your skirt and Wooyoung didn’t miss a single part of your small movements. 

“have you tried shotgunning before?” 

It’s like he’s always the one to break the void and as you looked at him, you realized he must be as high as you. He’s been taking much longer drags than you but you’re new to this, so the effect came faster. 

“what’s that?”, you laughed resting your elbow on the sofa as your head dropped to your palm.

“you know, blowing smoke in each other’s mouth”

“that sounds interesting”

“d’you wanna try it?”, his tongue wetted his bottom lip and you can swear to any God he looked hotter than ever. 

He’s been letting his hair grow lately and the waves that now fall on his face make him look more of a masterpiece than he already is. Tonight, he had no reason to wear a sleeveless shirt or that damn silver chain that you so wanna grab to bring him close enough to taste the smoke and cheap beer from his lips, even though yours taste the same. 

“very much”

“I’m glad”, he took a long drag of the increasingly smaller stick before resting it on the ashtray, and with a careful move he was back on the couch. Wooyoung was way too high to be moving fast, so taking his time to come closer was probably the best option he had right now. Though you don’t mind, not that you can at this point, but when he grabbed your cheeks with one hand, making your mouth fall open, a choked sound escaped you. His body was dangerously close to yours, almost towering over you with one leg kneeling on the sofa and the other keeping him up by pushing on the floor. He was staring in your eyes the whole time and your heart started beating faster the closer he got to your lips, until he stopped…inches away from your open agape lips. Your breath was shaky, both from the new situation you’ve put your body into through smoking that stick and from how close Wooyoung was to you. Exactly how close you’ve always wanted him to be. 

He blew the smoke right into your mouth slowly, and with full concertation you tried to inhale it equally as slow. Choking was the last thing you wanted right now and it took you by surprise when most of it was into your mouth. Wooyoung didn’t let go of your cheeks, watching closely as the smoke now left your pink lips and vanished into thin air as you blew it. “I’ve been dying to blow smoke into your pretty mouth” His eyes flickered between yours and your heart almost beat out of your chest until the one thought that had been flooding his mind turned into action and his lips crashed on yours. The remainings of the smoke got trapped between your mouths, and it all felt like an illusion. His lips were softer than you’d expected, almost feeling like a warm hug from your favourite person, and for a moment it felt like all the weight left your body and you were nothing but floating. His eyebrows furrowed at the way he invaded your mouth with his tongue and both his hands held your face.

You gripped his shirt, leaving no room for withdrawals as a ragged sigh filled his mouth. The cheap beer on his lips tasted better than when you drank it from the can and as high as you might be, the longing to keep him this close forever stayed in you like an aura. He kissed you messily yet slowly and when he groaned against you, your legs went numb. You’re sure saliva is dripping down your chin, but you want more. More of him. 

You were too lost in the world you had created until a sudden chuckle made Wooyoung break the kiss. Your head fell backwards, laughing at what seemed nothing and he found it hilarious. 

“why does all of this feel so familiar?”, you couldn’t stop the giggles as his laugh got mixed with yours on the empty rooftop. Your hands were still tugging on his shirt until one of them travelled up to take the thick chain between your fingers.

“fuckin’ déjà vu”, he rolled his eyes dramatically.

“did we use to get high together in our past lives too?”

“I wouldn’t complain if we did”

You brought your head up, still laughing at the way you felt due to that damn green magic, and Wooyoung dropped down to your level as you kept pulling him by the chain. His face was inches away from yours again and with a hesitant thumb you brushed the mole on his lip softly “teach me how to roll one of these things”, you whispered against his lips. 

“sit on my lap and I will”, he bit your bottom lip and drew back slouching on the couch with a smirk painted on his lips. His head fell back, resting on the old fabric. The mere whisper he talked with, made the blood run faster to your brain, if that’s even possible, and the droopy eyes left you needing more. You never believed such confidence would emanate from within you, let alone the vigor to straddle his lap the way you just did. The box-pleated skirt you’ve been wearing all day, reached your thighs as you rested your knees on each side of his body, and Wooyoung found your legs fast.

“shit babygirl, that was fast”

His hands caressed the exposed flesh like it was made from glass, afraid it would break anytime, and you shivered. You’re more sensitive now, even the light coming from the city roads seems stronger than it really is. His eyes fell on your lips “fuck that”, and in an instant he was kissing you again, needier this time. His tongue licked your lip and you moaned but gave into him and every sensation he offered you, instantly.

You raised your hips subconsciously, only to realize what you’re doing when your heated core got dragged along the little tent that’s formed on his crotch. Wooyoung groaned and threw his head back at the pressure, hair all over his face and lips pinkish from the cherry lipstick you’ve been wearing. Your hazy mind only showed you that now you need him more, more than every other time, more than every other night and his hands holding on your thighs for dear life, only told you the same. He pressed you down on him harder making you hiss at the intense friction. Your panties are the only thing separating your throbbing clit from the perfect contact and you need them gone as soon as possible.

“d’you know what’d be more fun?”, his eyes are closed, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down at the ecstatic images in his mind that make his cock twitch.

“what?”

“ride me”

Your head throbbed and everything went silent for a second. Wooyoung raised your body only to drag the inconvenient pants and -way too tight for his length- underwear till his knees and his cock sprung up with the tip already drenched in precum. Your mouth watered at the sight of it but, right now, you needed him inside your cunt more than you needed him inside your mouth. Your moves reflected how messily your head was spinning as you rested your arms on his shoulders and when his hand cupped your clothed core, you flinched, letting an expression that Wooyoung instantly loved paint your features. 

“fuck I need you”

He grasped your sides making you fall against him and with voice smaller than ever, your only coherent thought found its way out of your mouth “Wooyoung please”

He slid the cotton underwear to the side, and you know that if he had full view of it he wouldn’t hesitate to comment on the little yellow bow that decorated it. With slow movements he pumped his length a couple of times before aligning himself to your entrance and, no matter how bad you needed him, your body moved equally as slow till his tip brushed your clit, and you gasped. 

It was when half of him, or maybe a little more, was already inside you when a cry left your lips. Wooyoung groaned at how narrow you were and the stretch made your already throbbing head, feel like it’ll soon explode. Although everything was a little blurry, you were one hundred percent aware of the situation you were in and you were loving it.

You lowered yourself until all of him was buried to the hilt and you stayed there for a bit before moving your head from his shoulder. His eyes were heavy on yours and his lip between his teeth in the neediest way possible. Everything felt like a dream until his voice rung in your ears “move baby”.

You rolled your hips lazily and Wooyoung cursed under his breath. Constant whines left you, so small they could barely be heard, as the sensitivity made you feel everything more intensely. The slow pace got him needier but he loved it.

His arms lowered reaching your ass and a loud moan echoed when a slap landed on it “shh”, he caressed the spot to ease the pain, but you only moaned louder. 

“do you like that?”

“mm”

A second slap echoed and your eyes fluttered shut as you clenched, but Wooyoung felt a burning run all the way from his cock to his head making him moan lowly. 

“so tight”

The city’s sounds drink your mixed moans out and you’re glad the apartment under the rooftop is yours or else you’d be in huge trouble. Wooyoung raised his body to come closer and, hesitantly, you wrapped your arms around his neck. His breath was heavy against your neck but yours was so fast and, you weren’t sure but it felt like the grip on your ass tightened sensibly and you felt him deeper.

“Wooyoung-”

“what would the world say if everyone knew a good girl like you is on a rooftop fucking a helpless stoner?”

His voice must’ve dropped an octave. You’ve never heard it so deep before and it made the knot in your stomach grow tighter. But his question is what caught your attention the most. He considers you a good girl and you can’t blame him...he’s the one who’s helped you get out of your comfort zone a thousand times and he’s the one who’s made you see life from a different perspective. Your entire life has been rotating around certainty and safety and if it wasn’t for him, you wouldn’t be living any of this.

You held your breath to prevent a moan but Wooyoung was impatient.

“they’d say…fuck him harder…”

His hand creeped up your t-shirt cupping the clothed breast.

“…and don’t let go of him or else your life will turn black and white again—oh ffuck”

A cry filled the void when he brushed your g-spot and you pressed down on him a little harder. The tightening around his length made him hiss but tried to put the right words in order.

“are you the one talking or the drug?”

“it’s me- fffuck right there”

His lips found your neck and your head fell forwards resting on top of his as the euphoria got closer. His voice suddenly changed, getting higher as you kept clenching. You never thought he’d be vocal during sex, yet it drove you crazier by the second. 

“that’s it babygirl”

He pressed you harder on him and your hips rolled faster. He was close, that’s what the throbbing inside you said and only when the hand from your breast travelled to your clit, did you realize how close you were too. Your entire body trembled and louder cries of his name made him attack your lips like a prey. Your noses brushed each other’s and your moans, gradually, became one. 

His index finger circled the sensitive bud slowly but it was all it took to throw you off the edge. You clenched tightly and the grip on your ass stung as he kept moving you against his cock. You broke the kiss, staying right where you could feel his breath against your lips but you cried out like no one could hear.

“babyy-”

Your colours spilled around him and the tightening made him groan as he fucked it back into you.

“you’re s-so good”

He twitched and for a moment the feeling was too much until his hands made you stop from moving anymore. White ropes of cum painted your walls and his moans got high-pitched all the while incoherent curses left him. Your weight on his legs made the quivering less noticeable, but your effect was still there and just the thought that his walls broke down because of you, could get you higher than any drug. 

Wooyoung didn’t move his forehead from against yours, instead he let your breath fan his lips as your minds got a tad bit clearer. It took some minutes to catch your breaths, but when you did the void broke once again by him and, maybe, he’s already found that one person.

“you’re right...who cares about being insignificant to the world when I can be significant to you?”

[if-you-built-yourself-a-myth]

Check Ignition: Sander Schmander

By popular request (*cough* everyone on ao3 and @art3misjade), here is Sander's perspective on events

This segment falls right before Chapter Four of Check Ignition

Sander Driesen was drunk. Honest-to-god, shitfaced drunk. And for the first time in forever, too—he’d laid off the stuff since his treatment plan made it difficult to handle, and since he wanted the meds to actually work. But tonight, he thought, I’ve earned this. Everyone else was drinking. It would be weird if he didn’t participate when his own boyfriend was halfway through his fifth cup of punch.

Fake boyfriend. That was a whole thing.

Now, he lay on the stairs leading upward to the boys’ dormitories. Hopefully those stairs. He didn’t make a habit of visiting the common rooms of other houses, and the layouts tended to differ from one another.

“Sorry,” he croaked to everyone who shimmied their way through. “My bad. Deepest apologies.”

This was why he needed Britt, he thought, to reign in this kind of impulse. Granted, she was the only one who knew about everything else thus far, but he wasn’t going to tell Robbe all that, not when it was already hard enough existing in a magical world with a mundane illness. He wanted to hold onto this last little dream.

Midnight was fast approaching and the bustle downstairs had yet to dispel. Sander tried to move his arms and found them unresponsive. Or rather, he could move them, but it required too much effort to be worth it. He slumped back. More people flooded up the stairs to sleep off whatever terrible concoction was in that punch bowl.

“Robbe has such stupid ideas, I swear,” said Moyo, cresting the staircase. Sander perked up at the sound of Robbe’s name. Probably Moyo. Sander struggled to think through the names of Robbe’s friends—he had them listed in his bedroom for continuity purposes.

He recognized Jens easily enough, because Jens was wherever Robbe was. And Sander watched Robbe a lot. Sander held his breath, as if being quiet could prevent them from seeing him sprawled across their path.

“Shut up,” Jens shot back.

The third boy with them—Alex? Adam?—pitched in, “It’s not Robbe’s fault you don’t get any.”

“He’s throwing away the chance of a lifetime.”

“Shut the fuck up. You sound like an incel.”

“But like, why do they kiss so much? It’s not like you have—” Moyo stopped short as he tripped over Sander’s leg. Despite their somewhat rational conversation, they weren’t any more sober than Sander himself. “Shit, speak of the devil.”

Jens leaned down to Sander’s eye level. “You alright?”

“Never better,” Sander slurred. It came out more like a groan.

Moyo approached to help Jens move Sander from the center of the stairs. They sat him up against the railing on his left side, which was not any more comfortable than the steps digging into his back. Jens was still in full Quidditch uniform (even the chest padding!), Moyo sported a Hufflepuff tie over a t-shirt and jeans, and Adam-or-whoever stood at a quiet distance in a pair of burgundy pajama pants and his Quidditch robes. Sander would have made note to write these in on his list—a good indicator of personality.

Too bad he didn’t have the sense to do so.

“Can’t handle your alcohol, huh?” Moyo asked. He didn’t seem very threatening, though the question was definitely a taunt. Sander’s brain felt like vanilla pudding. Moyo turned to the boys. “Should we wake Robbe?”

“Yes,” said Sander. Oh, hell yes. Robbe. He liked Robbe so much.

The story itself was long and antiquated, a love-at-first-sight kind of deal for Sander. He couldn’t think of one version where he wasn’t the bad guy. He went on a double-date with Britt and her friend, expecting one of Noor’s usual yuppies to show up and bore the whole table with pointless conversation. Then it was Robbe.

Do you ever just see someone, really see them, and—how could he phrase it—know? Or think you know. All things considered, it wasn’t the best sign in terms of his condition.

He had to walk all the way into the next town over to call his psychiatrist, only to realize there wasn’t much to tell her. Hey, I’m infatuated with this guy that my girlfriend’s friend is dating. What should I do? She’d give him some common-sense answer like, Break up with your girlfriend, which he didn’t want to do until he knew what he was feeling would last. So he said, These side effects are nasty, and she reevaluated his dose of Lexapro.

“Let the virgin sleep,” said Moyo.

Sander pitched forward to grab Moyo by the arm. “No, wake him up.”

Because the thing was, time passed, and the feelings didn’t fade. Britt could tell he wasn’t present anymore and said nothing. Maybe she thought it was the Depakote that his psychiatrist added to the cocktail when the antidepressant dangled him on the edge of hypomania. She was a good person. It really wasn’t fair when he told her it was over via owl, and it really wasn’t fair when he seized his opportunity to kiss Robbe in the astronomy tower. The argument in question was not so bad. He conflated it for an excuse to leave her.

“Where’s Robbe?” said Sander. “I have to see him.”

“He’s asleep, downstairs. We gave him a blanket and everything.” Jens passed over his own cup of water. “Drink this.”

“I have to see him,” Sander repeated.

“Yeah, you have to go to sleep. He’s going to be here tomorrow.”

“It won’t be the same tomorrow.”

The whole relationship wasn’t even meant to be a thing. It was a cheap kiss, really, in the astronomy tower. Sander just wanted to know what it would feel like, and he thought it might serve Robbe too, so he did it. Robbe’s appearance the next day was the most unexpected, thrilling twist he could have dreamed of. Except, in a dream, it wouldn’t be fake.

Robbe never missed a chance to restate that it was fake. That wasn’t the best sign, either.

“Aaron, don’t just stand there,” said Jens. “Help me out. Grab his arms, will you?”

“Aaron.” Sander tested out the name. “But you’re Adam!”

“How much have you had?” Aaron grabbed Sander’s arms and lifted. The boys got Sander up two stairs before deciding he was too heavy. They sat him back against the wall.

“Try again,” Jens instructed.

The second try went about as well as the first.

Jens crouched to Sander’s eye level. “Look, is there someone else we can get for you? Or are you cool with sleeping here?” He had to hold Sander’s shoulders in his hands to keep Sander from pitching forward and rolling all the way back downstairs.

“We can’t leave our friend’s boyfriend here!” said Aaron.

“Fake boyfriend,” Moyo added.

Sander groaned. Yes, remind him of that! It was fake! He knew it already! If his psychiatrist could see him now, she’d say—alright, she’d say that he wasn’t allowed to drink on his overly specific medication regimen. But if that weren’t a factor, she’d say some more common-sense things like, “Tell Robbe how you feel. Tell his friends, if you want.”

Fuck, he missed her. He could seek out the phone booth sometime this week and tell her all about it. She loved hearing from him.

“There’s no one,” he slurred. “I’m okay.”

“Fine, there’s us, then,” said Jens. He hefted one of Sander’s arms over his shoulder. “Moyo, take three.”

Moyo took the other arm. They dragged him up the rest of the way, bumping his head on every other stair. He felt like a snow globe in a tourist trap shop, all shaken up, no escape through the glass. Huh. Poetic. Where was Robbe?

“Wake up Robbe,” Sander requested. Jens and Moyo dropped him into the fourth bed in their room. Aaron, Jens, and Robbe lived here; Sander could deduce that from the eclectic assortment of things piled on every available surface. The blankets of the bed in which he lay were already rumpled, implying that someone else had slept here recently. He touched something sticky on the top sheet. Okay, maybe they didn’t sleep.

Jens looked back and forth between Moyo and Sander. “Why?” he asked.

There were plenty of replies Sander could give. We’re fake-dating, and I want it to be convincing.

We’re such good friends, and I want to tell him so.

I think he has my cell phone. Jens might not know what a cell phone was. Sander could never tell with those purebloods.

He and I have plans to smoke weed and throw rocks at pixies in the Forbidden Forest.

Sander said, “I misssssss him,” with the s pulled to the end of the world. Yeah, that would work, too.

“Um, okay,” said Jens. “We’ll see what we can do.”

Then he, Aaron, and Moyo started laughing, although Sander couldn’t tell just what they found so funny. Sander had an alarm on his cell phone to take his medication at eleven PM, since schedule was important to the efficacy of the active ingredients, or whatever it was his psychiatrist said when she adjusted his Lexapro to 15mg. It buzzed in his pocket, but he didn’t have the pills. He was too tired, anyway. It wouldn’t matter if he skipped a dose or two; he’d done worse things than that with lesser consequences.

“You’re going to get Robbe, right?” he asked, and in a moment of clarity, he realized he was a needy boyfriend. He wasn’t a fan of needy Britt. You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Jens yanked the curtains shut across the fourth bed and bound them with a spell. “You’re drunk, go to sleep. We’ll get Robbe.” The boys began another fit of giggling.

It didn’t bother Sander at all. He stared at the arcing pillars that held up the bedcurtains and hummed a David Bowie song into the darkness. He was young and drunk and in love, and anything could happen. So what if Robbe thought their relationship was fake for now? In a matter of time, it would be real.

[syndianites]

The After; The Athar: Chapter One

Chapter 1/?

Chapter 1 [Here] - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5

AO3: This Chapter - Full Fic

Summary: Post Season 2, non-Mianitian Compliant. The crew finally land back into the world after the events of Ruxomar. That should be a good thing, right? But Wag is feeling the burden of everything that has happened to him, and he didn’t even get his magic back to boot.

It’s hard to be happy when life has been so shitty.

Relationships: Sparklington (end-game), Marthlington (temporarily), Sparkanite (Spark x Ianite) (past, mentioned), Motanite

Content Warnings: Death Mentions, Implied Depression, Implied PTSD, Self-Deprecation, Breaking up a Relationship (Marthlington)

AN: I’ve been working on this since September? of 2019! I have 5 chapters done and still going. I wanted to wait to post this until I was done with it, but my impatience has gotten the better of me.

@the-moon-pal I’m coming for your crown king >:)

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They’d made it home a couple weeks ago, to the land of Mianite. It’d been such a relief. They got to meet the rest of the alts, got to watch Dianite meet the other gods- and cringe at the tension that crackled between them- got to find all their homes again. For once, in the past-however-long, there was peace. They could relax.

So why did Wag feel like utter shit?

Right. Because he literally got the worst part of the deal.

He thought his powers would come back when they got home. And they did, for a few hours. Not the full range, but a lot of it. It felt good to be full of magic again. It felt like he was himself.

But then things started to fall apart. Martha grew distant. His powers fell away in fits and bursts. He realized that the rest of FyreUK had moved on after they made amends in Ruxomar. They found their way on. Without him.

Nothing was the same, he realized, as he spent more time around the place they had called ‘home.’

Spark had done what he did best: built a city. Well, more like a village. What had once been a place of buildings thrown about at random and mostly open plains was now sparsely populated. Neatly arranged shops and a few houses took up the space next to the beach. New people had even begun to show up.

Everything was changing around him, yet he was stuck holding onto the past. Holding onto his wizardhood, to his brotherhood, to a partner that was farther now than ever, and- worst of all- he was still holding onto the hope that everything would just… go back. To how it was.

To when he was important.

Well, like fuck is he was going to sit around and loathe his existence. He could at least try to do something. Swear to Athar, he wasn’t going to turn into a lump of depression just because he couldn’t handle change! He’d rather be a walking mass of depression! That way he could at least pretend he was being productive.

Potions or spellbooks? A question as old as time. Potions were a staple in his life. If there was one thing that would never leave him, it was his ability to make fucking potions. Like, fucking make potions. Not potions to help people fuck. On the other hand, the more he poured through spellbooks, the more likely he was to get closer to finding out how to get his powers back.

Maybe his powers left when FyreUK left, taking all the glory of Athar with it. But that was too terrible of a thought, so that got chucked in the ‘not-today-bitch’ bin. Which was a handy dandy mental bin that stored all of his worst problems.

He never could fit himself in it, though.

So potions it was.

Now that he was out of the business of magic, most of his money came from his potion making. He had made yet another little wizard- alchemist? Potion master?- tower. Plopped some advertisements in el Pueblo de Spark and took orders to pass the time. He had to fund his botany experiments somehow.  Someone had to introduce weed into this world, that might as well be him.

If he was going down in history for something, that wasn’t ‘Word Renowned Wizard Extraordinaire’, then ‘The Guy who Made Weed’ would sure as hell work. 

Wag pulled up his log of orders. Luck, luck, dexterity, healing, luck, love- yeah, those didn’t really work but he’d make it anyways-, strength, luck, yadda, yadda, yadda. Lots of luck. He could probably get away with making a batch or two of luck potions, then work through the rest.

He spared a glance outside. Spark’s little hut-square town was beginning to develop into a pleasant little fishing hole. Surprisingly- or not, given how deep the waters were nearby- the place was actually a fairly hot place for single fish to mingle. Warm waters, nice and deep, lots of cover, and not much human interference. Until now, anyway.

Either the fishermen were starting to get a fair amount of revenue going or they really needed help. Luck potions were among his most expensive. The ingredients were hard to acquire regardless of how you made it.

Rabbit’s foot? Morally and physically hard to get a hold of. Rainbow trout? Terribly rare. ‘Star-light Fruit’? Not even confirmed to exist.

His method was a little more straightforward. A butt load of four-leaf clovers, a tiny bit of alcohol, and a fuckton of glitter. Clovers for the magic, glitter for the look, and alcohol for the feeling of being lucky.

It was a very bullshit potion.

It took forever to find the clovers, let alone collect them.

Athar give him strength.

Giving one last look outside, he tucked his log book in his cloak. Then he went and rummaged through his chests.

Monotony here he comes.

~~~

Wag was halfway through his second batch of luck potions when a distant knock came from his door, followed by the sound of bells. If not for the bells he’d have ignored the knocking. With a stretch, he putzed down the stairs. The many flights of stairs.

He missed being able to make elevators.

Opening the door revealed one Mr. Sparklez, hair tousled but otherwise neatly groomed. He was relaxed, if not a little winded from his trek up the hill Wag claimed as his own.

Wag smiled. “Hey Sparklez, what brings you up to my tower of terror today? Here for a chat or a swanky danky potion?”

He gestured for Jordan to head inside and get comfortable, but the man waved him off. “Actually,” Jordan started, “I was wondering if you’d seen Martha? I needed to ask her something and I haven’t seen her all day. Figured she’d be with you.”

Ah, so Jordan wanted to find Martha.

Ouch.

Doing his best to ignore the squeeze in his chest, Wag kept his smile firmly in place. “No, I don’t think I have. She, uh.” He paused, going for a nonchalant shrug. “She doesn’t come around the tower all that often. I’d ask Spark instead. She tends to hang around him more. Her good ole pops and all, y’know. They do have a lot to catch up on.” Wag tried to ignore how weak his words sounded. He didn’t want it to sound weird that Martha wouldn’t come around, but instead he just sounded pathetic.

Great.

Jordan gave Wag an awkward smile, seemingly uncomfortable with the sad display. “Ah, alright. I’ll ask around for Spark.” 

He turned to leave but caught himself before he was fully turned away. Jordan chewed on his words. “Are you-” His eyes swept over Wag. “How have you been? We don’t see you as much anymore. Other than Tom, I guess, but it's hard to get rid of Tom once he decides you’re friends, y’know?”

“I’ve been,” Wag wanted to laugh, but pushed through the sentence, “swell, thank you. I would get out more, but I’m always so busy potion making. Gotta pay the bills somehow.” The words tasted bitter on his tongue. It wasn’t the exact truth, but he did spend a lot of time on potions.

Letting his shoulders settle, Jordan gave a small laugh. “Who would press a wizard to pay bills? Someone who wants to catch on fire, I’m sure.” He opted for a friendly smile. “If you ever want to hang out or something, let me know. I’ve been getting kind of bored between Spark telling me how to be a better champion of Ianite and living in an actual, peaceful society.”

Wag waved after Jordan as he began his descent. Yeah, a wizard. A frown tugged at his face while he shut the door.

A real fucking wizard.

~~~

Making potions was rather methodical. Each step took a certain amount of time, each item had certain effects, meshed certain ways with other items. It was like following a recipe, but with bigger consequences for messing up. Cooler results, though.

Wag had just finished melting down the clovers he’d gathered and extracting the essence- which is to say he lit it on fire after sprinkling a generous amount of blaze powder on it- when Jordan had stopped by. Which was convenient, since he needed to wait for the weird half-liquid half-slime to cool off enough to move it. The awkward potions, glitter, and alcohol were already prepped. Now all he needed to do was mix shit together.

Oh joy.

At the very least, it was satisfying to roll the clover essence into little balls to plop into an awkward potion and then watch them dissolve. The clover gave the essence a natural, healthy green color while the blaze powder, which clung to even the most thoroughly washed slime, gave it something of a yellow highlight. Golden glitter gets dumped in to make it feel like you were about to drink something special. Yes, the glitter was edible. No, most people didn’t realize he put glitter in this shit. Then the alcohol was for that background buzz. It was meant to dull the senses just enough to trick people into believing, wholeheartedly, in whatever god-forsaken abomination he just made.

Sorry. What ever divinely crafted, totally safe potion he’d just made.

Sure, he didn’t test it himself, but it seemed to work well enough for the people he gave it to. So where was the harm?

It was fine.

The next part was perhaps the most boring. And he’d spent all day yesterday crawling on the ground looking for four-leaf clovers.

Tagging and packaging. Writing names on slips of paper, tying them to the potion, putting it in a small, padded box to prevent any breaks. Rinse, repeat. It was annoying, wasted money, all that jazz, but it helped the look. Who wants to be handed a regular old potion, by hand, when you can get it in some majestic looking box to really add some sparkle to your magic?

Maybe Ruxomar rubbed off on him in a bad way.

In any case, the look was important, and by Athar was he going to make it look fucking fantastic.

Unfortunately, this task was also terribly, horribly monotonous. Worse yet, it left room for thinking. And thinking was Wag’s least favorite pastime since floating in the Void. Especially since floating in the Void.

It lead to him thinking deeply about himself and Athar knows that most of his life problems could be traced right back to that. His mistakes, his fuck ups, his shortcomings, all of it came back to him thinking way too hard about himself. 

Gross.

Instead, he tried to run over potion recipes in his mind. Or any recipe, really. All the different ways to make a fire resistance potion when you don’t have magma cream. Counting how many potions used lemongrass. Figuring out what potions would make it more likely to catch fish. Literally anything. As long as it was potions, it was fine.

Not about himself, not about Athar, not about wizards, and not about… Martha.

Yeah, that last one would be a one hit k-o. 

But now that his mind had touched on the subject, it dug in. Sunk it's claws into the delicate stability of his mind. Dramatic, he knows, but that’s how it felt. It was like the more he tried to get the thought out of his mind, the further it burrowed into him. Awful, painful, and not even worth the effort.

Martha… clearly didn’t care about him anymore. Or, well. He winced at the thought. She didn’t love him like she used to. If she, uh. Did in the first place. But this was old news. This was something he pondered after she seemed to avoid him like the plague, seemed to grimace when she looked over and saw him and not him.

Steve.

The name sat heavy in his head. They hadn’t meshed well, ‘specially where Martha was concerned. But they managed, for her, because they loved her.

Wag felt guilty, looking back on it now. For stealing their time together, for messing with their relationship. They hadn’t gotten to be together enough, had lost too much time before-

Yeah, he didn’t like thinking about Steve more than he didn’t like thinking about Martha. Wag didn’t feel like he deserved to think the name, let alone put himself up against his image. Steve was a hero. He rebelled against Helgrind in a cunning, intelligent way, he was selfless in more aspects than any of the heroes that appeared in Ruxomar, and he was the one to sacrifice the most. To sacrifice it all.

Where did Wag stand against that?

Honestly, it was no wonder Martha couldn’t stand to look at him. He was just a reminder of Steve, a reminder that she didn’t have Steve. That she had him instead. 

Had she ever loved him?

That wasn’t the point. The point was that Martha was hurting, trying to pick up the pieces of what she left behind in Ruxomar. What she had lost. And Wag wasn’t doing anything to help. He was stuck up in his tower, making potions, trying to forget about everything that he wasn’t.

He should try to look for her.

But the last time he did, he got turned away. She was “catching up with her father.” She was “busy settling into the new world.” She was “trying to get a grip on her new goddesshood.”

Wag was persistent, but even he could get the hint.

By Athar, he got the hint. “I don’t want to see you.” “Don’t come near me.” “You can’t help me.” 

He wondered if Spark was doing anything to help her or if he was also caught up in everything that had happened. From what he had learned about the man in Ruxomar, he was devoted to his wife. No, he gave everything for his wife. Learning she was dead after working up everything to see her again?

He had played it well. When he heard the news, Spark kept strong, only letting his tears show. If he had gone home later after parting with Martha, who had her own grief and guilt, crumbling on the inside no one would know. And if he had locked himself away and let everything loose, let himself break, none would be the wiser. But they could guess, they could give him a passing glance, a thoughtful frown.

Wag wondered if he still carried that grief around with him.

Spark had taken to trying to discipline Jordan to be a better champion of Ianite. It had made the man uncomfortable with getting told he could be a better follower and all. Or rather, having it implied that he wasn’t the best follower. Spark was stubborn in ‘training’ the champion of Ianite to be a full fledged follower.

Still, Jordan didn’t appreciate the sentiment.

Wag understood. Having the husband of the very goddess you watched die get on your case about being a better follower? When the crushing weight of guilt hadn’t fully let off your shoulders? He wondered if Spark hadn’t taken to coaching Jordan to make himself feel better, to remind himself that he would have kept Ianite safe, that he would have fixed the world before it broke out from under them.

It sounded like torture.

But it helped settle Wag. Call him selfish, but he felt better knowing other people had real problems, real grief, to deal with. Sure, Wag had his hang up with Martha. Yeah, he had his issues with being-a-wizard-yet-not. But he wasn’t as close to neck deep as Spark was. Like Martha was.

He wished belittling his problems made them feel less suffocating.

Martha. Martha was still pushing him away. And he was letting her. What did that say about him? About their relationship?

A sigh heaved out of his chest. It was like someone stuck a large rock right in his rib cage, tucked neatly between his lungs. Hard, heavy, and an all around burden. Potions. He needed to think about potions.

His hands betrayed him with a subtle shake. How many names did he have left to write? How many boxes did he have left to pack? Fuck if he knew. He had to keep counting, to find a way to wrap up all his issues, his panic, his fear, into a nice little package and tuck it away like a forgotten gift.

Athar help me, Wag tried to control his thoughts, I might drive myself insane by the end of the year.

As if on cue, another knock at his door broke his thoughts. He tried not to feel relieved to rush away from his potion packaging. He was fine, cool as a cucumber.

Throwing open the door, he came face to face with his second visitor of the day. Tom.

Tom was standing in front of his door almost uncertainly, like he wasn’t quite sure why or how he got there. He took one sweep over Wag’s unhidden face and a determined, focus look set in on his own.

“We,” Tom looped his arm around Wag’s in a sudden movement, “are going out somewhere. No if’s, and’s, or but’s.” 

Eyebrows shooting up, Wag let himself be dragged from his house with an aborted motion to close the door behind him. He mournfully watched his door stay ajar. Hopefully no one else ventured up the hill today, otherwise he might be down a few potions.

“Why?” Wag turned his attention back to Tom, who was resolute in his intention of pulling Wag away to Athar knows where.

A grin was shot in his direction. “You look like you need to get out of the house. Also, I’m real fuckin’ bored and you’re clearly in need of some company.”

A wry smile snuck on Wag’s face. “Oh lucky me. We should get some tea, live up to our trademark.”

Tom nodded. “Absolutely. Let’s hit town. Fuck it up. Flaunt our hero-ness and get shit faced.”

“Let’s not get shit faced, and especially not get kicked out of town for making a ruckus.” Wag fondly rolled his eyes. “I do quite like living here and it’d be a shame to have to follow you around to make sure you don’t die.”

Tom gave a mocked offended gasp, free hand coming up to his forehead as he leaned away. “How dare you! I’ll have you know I’d never die if I didn’t live in a community. I’m a rogue, don’t you know.” He sniffed. “I can easily hold my own in the dangerous wilds.”

“Without anyone to pester and annoy?”

“I can pester anything!”

Wag bit his lip to stop a laugh. Tom always brought such energy with him. It was refreshing. Maybe he was right, he just needed some company.

He wouldn’t say that to his face, though.

“I suppose so,” Wag continued, “You are rather persistent. I bet you could annoy the sun into setting early.”

“Nah, I’d blow that fucker up instead.” Tom winked, snuggled back up to Wag, effectively trapping his arm. “I still think we should get shit faced. Drink our sorrows into the drain, throw them up another day.” 

Wag mock gagged. “I’d rather keep them down the drain, thank you. Besides, what a waste of alcohol. If I’m drinking, I’m drinking to keep it down. Not!” He quickly cut Tom off, “That I want to go out drinking.” He eyed the sky, giving a disapproving look to Tom when he saw that it was still early afternoon. “No one should be getting drunk before the sun touches the horizon.”

With a pout, Tom leaned into Wag’s side. “Lame. I suppose,” he drew out the word, “we could go get some good old fashioned tea. Call it a pre-game without the game.”

Wag rolled his eyes. He wasn’t looking to out game his issues. That wasn’t a solution. It’d just make him turn into a sad drunk and give him a headache in the morning.

This is why he needed weed back.

But also, he didn’t want to develop another problem. Gotta keep it clean. For now.

Tom still had his own plans, alcohol or no alcohol. “I find when I’m feeling down that doing something batshit stupid makes me feel better. We should go fishing with our bare hands- no, with only our teeth- and no shirt on. Attract ladies and gents to us alike. Are they looking at our finely chiseled chests or our daring courage? Who’s to say.”

“You are far from chiseled my friend. Try soft.” Wag poked Tom in the stomach jokingly. “And who said that I’m feeling down?”

“Hey!” Tom swatted his hand away. “I’ll have you know I’m more ripped than you’ll ever be!” He huffed, squeezing Wag’s arm. They walked in silence for a moment, now upon the town. After wandering the street for a second, Tom spoke again, quieter. “I had this feeling.” Wag eyes him. “It was weird. My gut was telling me to check in on you. And then when you opened the door it was written on your face. Even I’m not dumb enough to miss that.” 

Wag heard the unspoken I was worried carried in Tom’s words. Talk about soft. He squeezed Tom’s arm back. “Oh wow, a gut feeling?” He teased lightly, “I think it was just you missing my magical presence. It is hard to go too long without seeing me.” If only that were true. “But I’m here now, and we can go do something absolutely stupid, just for you.”

They share a smile, a quiet thank you floating between them.

Tom gets a glint in his eyes. “Does this mean we can go catch fish with our bare hands?”

“I suppose so.” Wag drawled. “How else are we going to show off our toned figures?”

That got him a laugh, one concerningly maniacal, and he was dragged between houses.

Yeah, he might regret this.

Tom turned and gave him a smile that was all teeth and no common sense. He paused next to the shore, a little ways off from the docks. Shucking his clothes, one Tom Syndicate stood proudly in his underwear, unconcerned about the effect of sunlight on zombified skin. People gave them a look of distaste.

Oh, he was definitely going to regret this. 

~~~

Soggy was one way to describe how Wag felt. Wet as shit was another. All in all, he was rather pleased with himself and the rather large, shiny fish sitting in his lap. The fish which so happened to be a fair amount larger than Tom’s.

“Oh fuck you.” Tom spluttered around a mouthful of fish, laying down an arm’s length away. He had gathered quite an amount of fish, a solid number for catching something with your mouth alone. None of them were that large. In fact, most were an average, if not slightly below, size.

Wag eyed the pile smugly. He may have only caught two, but damn if he didn’t go big.

“Well, it seems that I’ve caught myself a winner.” He tried not to look too pleased. The look on Tom’s face told him he failed.

Tom scoffed, letting the fish fall to the sandy floor with a wet fwop. “You got lucky! Clearly, quantity wins the game here. Sure, you caught one big, old, dumb motherfucker, but I caught a dozen other dumbass fish! I should get the win.”

“Wasn’t size the goal here?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, I think you do.”

Before Tom could fire back, a voice from behind interrupted him. “I think the two fools sitting in their underwear soaked to the bone are both losers.”

Wag tilted his head back to see Tucker standing with his hands in his pockets, back slouched, and an easy smile on his face, standing just where the sand turned to grass. Next to him was one lovely fox lady, Sonja herself, and one Sparkle butt, Jordan.

Nice to see the gang all here.

Tom sat up. “How dare you! I’ll have you know we are the best fishers on the island!”

Tucker raised a single eyebrow. “Really now? Are all the other fishers out at sea today?”

“Well excuse you, Mr. Boner. I’ll have you know we caught all of this,” Tom sweeps his arm across their score. “And I think that’s quite the haul.”

“How long did it take you?”

“Fuck you.”

Tucker snickered, moving closer to poke his foot into Tom’s side. “That’s what I thought.”

Wag, meanwhile, was carefully moving his prize to the side so he could stand up. Brushing the sand off himself, he exchanged a smile with Sonja and a nod with Jordan. Sonja gave him a good natured headshake. “And here I thought you were smarter than this.”

Jordan’s eyes trailed down Wag’s chest before flittering away. “Right down to your boxers? Tom must have gotten you good.”

“Well, I was fairly set on getting a nice cup of tea and walking across the beach, hand in hand like real lovers, but Tom was far more intent to go all macho and catch fish with his mouth alone.” Wag leaned in with a hand against his mouth to give a stage whisper. “Between you and me, I think he’s trying to step up his oral game.” He winked.

Jordan groaned, giving Wag what he thought to be a rather dramatic eye roll. That wasn’t even the worst he had to offer, and he’d given him such an easy setup! Sonja waggled her eyebrows and giggled when Tom butted in. “It’ll never be as good as yours dear.” He batted his eyelashes mock innocently.

The group burst into laughter. Tucker stepped closer, swinging an arm around his vaguely damp shoulders. “Hey, it’s nice to see you out and about man. It’s been a hot second. Almost thought you’d drank the wrong potion and kicked it or something.” 

Wag nodded seriously. “Quite the real possibility. Why, just yesterday I almost drank real glitter! The kind you’re not supposed to eat.”

“Been there,” Sonja added, “I thought I was going to die when I did. Just gave me a very colorful trip to the bathroom.”

Tom grinned as he moved to elbow Jordan in the side. “I bet our good ole Captain here wouldn’t know the difference. How else did he get his namesake, right Mr. Sparkley Butt?”

“Hardy har,” Jordan gave Tom a fondly disgusted look. “The name’s Captain Sparklez, that ‘namesake’ came from you giving me a stupid nickname.”

They fell into more chatter, giving Tom and Wag the time to put their clothes back on, Tom not caring that he was still wet as he put his suit back on, while Wag just slung his cloak over himself. No point in putting pants on over wet underwear.

The group, all now clothed to some extent, began to wander back towards town. Wag was more than content to listen to Tom ramble on. He would get interrupted by Tucker when he said something ‘incredibly stupid’ and, more rarely, by Jordan, who would correct some technical thing that Tom clearly did not give a shit about.

Sonja drifted next to him, giving Wag a conspiratorial smile. “You’re looking mighty fine in just a robe and boxers. Is this the bedroom Wag special? Or is that sans boxers?” 

“The bedroom Wag special is whatever you want it to be.” He winked. “It’s magic all around.”

They exchanged a laugh, falling silent again.

Wag knew that wasn’t what Sonja really wanted to talk about.

She looked back at him, a warm look in her eyes. “It’s nice. To see you out. Been a while, y’know?” Sonja stretched her arms out in front of her. “It really has been a bit since we’ve talked. And since you’ve left the house. But honestly?” Her tail swishes behind her. “I could have made a few more treks up that damn mountain myself.”

Shaking his head, Wag elbowed her side lightly. “It is a fairly tall hill, but I think mountain is a bit of an overstatement.” It was, in fact, a bitch of a climb, but Wag didn’t think it was that bad. He’d put the tower just on the other side of the Glowstone Forest, across from the Priest’s house. (What was it called again? Forest of the Void? Abyss Forest? Obsidian Trees? Yeah, he didn’t know or care). 

Left unsaid was a ‘That’s okay, you don’t have to go out of your way’.

He received an eye roll. “Please, the only trek worse than that is up to where Tucker’s first house was. I was so happy when we moved it down the mountain. Well, into.”

It’s no trouble, her words left hanging, I don’t mind.

Wag huffed. How dare she be considerate. “You know what’s worse than a trek up a mountain? A trek up a mountain to get some rare flower, only to be spited by the universe and have not a single flower growing up there. Honestly, I could use some help from someone so used to climbing mountains.” A smirk pulled at his face. “Or maybe just send someone up there for me.”

We could always hang out when I’m playing master botanist. If you’d like.

Sonja smiled at him, but couldn’t resist getting a dig in. “Aw, did you skip leg day? Have some chicken legs over there? That’s alright, I’m sure someone,” she tilts her head, eyes sweeping past the buildings around them, “would be willing. Get a nice little lackey so you can rest your old bones at home and complain about how the cold makes your joints stiff.” 

“How dare you,” Wag sniffed, hand held up to his heart. “I’ll have you know, my joints are just fine in the cold! Some of us just aren’t made of the cold, little miss fox.”

Sonja, ever so mature, stuck her tongue out at him.

They kept up some conversation, occasionally stopping to listen in to whatever Tom was saying. Wag, for a moment, realized that he had missed this. Missed them. That even though he wanted to avoid all the new things in this world, he’d always have his friends.

A quiet, hopeless voice asked if they’d leave him too.

~~~

There was nothing quite like hiking up a hill, in only your boxers, a little buzzed, during the night time. The pure amount of skeletons that had sniffed around looking for a cheap shot alone was bad enough, but the fact that his legs already hurt from struggling to fish with just his mouth without drowning? Yeah, it felt more like he was climbing up a mountain that was near vertical.

Fuck gravity.

A pit of warmth had settled in his chest a couple hours ago. Whether it was the alcohol that Tucker, of all people, had got the group into drinking or just the effect of being with friends for a while, Wag felt content. Not a common feeling in recent times. It was nice.

Really nice.

Upon reaching his door, his mind scrambled to figure out why it was left slightly open. He shrugged. As long as nothing was missing or stolen, he didn’t really care.

He made his way inside- making sure to actually close the door behind him- and wandered over to the stairs. Ah, his mortal enemy. Between being a wizard way back when and the magic rampant in Ruxomar, he had gotten way too used to avoiding stairs. Now it was a chore to move up and down the tower. But his bed was upstairs and he was not sleeping on the crappy couch he shoved into the lobby for guests or customers again.

So stairs it was.

By the time he got halfway up the stairs, he wanted to quit. Why, in Athar’s name, did he put his room on the third highest level? Stupidity, that’s why. The view was so not worth it.

When he actually made it up to the correct floor, he pushed the door to his room open, chucked his clothes to one side, and collapsed in bed. Now this, this was worth it. Soft, plush, warm, and very much without skeletons.

The less arrows being shot at him the better.

A soft chuckle caught his attention. Or rather, killed the peace he had wrapped around himself mere hours earlier.

He didn’t move. Not because he was scared. No, he knew who was in his room. He just wanted to pretend, for a moment, like this was something he was used to.

Like coming home to his lover being home wouldn’t surprise him.

The bed dipped beside him and his robed and boxer-ed glory. A hand ran through his hair. Wag tried not to tense.

“Seems like you had a good night out.” Her voice was like silk, soft and pleasant on his ears. “Hopefully they didn’t hassle you too much.”

Wag breathed. His chest was tight, emotion punching at his ribs. “Yeah,” he said, “It was nice to have some time with them again.”

All of this felt so forgein, now. To have her here. Was she here? Or did he drink more than he had originally thought. Shit.

Martha scratched his head. “I do have to say, I’m surprised that you actually left the tower. You’ve been holed up here for so long I thought I’d have to drag you out.” He could hear the smile in her voice. Or maybe he was imagining it. His head was a mess and he wasn’t quite sure what he was making up and what was real.

It was kind of pathetic.

He laughed. “Yeah, Tom showed up and dragged me out. Not complaining though, I had a lot of fun. It was nice to take off from work. Making potions gets boring.”

So did sitting in your own depressing thoughts, but that was more exhausting than boring.

“Oh,” Wag turned his head to face Martha, looking up at her. The darkness made her hair stand out. It looked like a halo around her face, bringing out her lovely lilac eyes. She was just as beautiful as the last time he’d seen her. But there was something heavy in her eyes that she tried to wipe away when his own reached her. “Jordan was looking for you earlier. Did he ever find you?”

Martha blinked and the heaviness was gone. Ish. He knew it was there. Somewhere.

“Ah, no.” She frowned. “I’ll have to see what he needs tomorrow.”

He nodded. To be honest, Wag wasn’t convinced Martha was actually sitting here with him. Which was kind of sad. Very sad.

“I can come with, if you’d like,” Wag rushed out, trying not to sound desperate. “We haven’t had much time together, which is understandable with your dad being around and all the stuff you need to do. And, y’know, it’d be nice to walk with you for a bit.”

Oh, he sounded so desperate.

Yikes.

A smile graced Martha’s lips. “Sure, I’d love that.” Wag let out a breath. “We’ll take a stroll, get a nice scenic view of the beach as we go, call it a date-” She cut off. The heaviness came back to her eyes. Wag knew what she was thinking. Who she was thinking about.

It hurt.

“I’m going to go take a shower before getting ready for bed. You can go ahead and sleep, if you’d like. I know you’ve had a long day and you’re probably tired. Don’t force yourself for me.” Martha stood as she said this, fingers trailing in his hair. Then she left.

Reluctantly, Wag got up to do just that. Changed his boxers and hung up his cloak. Buried himself back into bed, under the covers.

Yeah. It’d be a date.

~~~

Martha didn’t like to get up early. Neither did Wag. Normally, this lead to them sleepily cuddling until one felt so inspired as to get up. Normally.

Ever since the group returned to the land of Mianite, Martha didn’t sleep as well. Between nightmares, being a fledgling goddess, and the… absence of certain people, she found herself waking earlier and earlier.

Wag had his fair share of sleep troubles. Where sleep troubles stopped Martha from sleeping as much, it led to Wag sleeping more. The less he slept the more exhausted he was. The more exhausted he was the more he slept. It was a vicious cycle and actually the reason Wag didn’t leave the house as much.

Nonetheless, both found themselves getting ready to leave just after dawn. Martha moved like last night didn’t end awkward and uncomfortable. Bright, cheerful, and painfully affectionate with Wag. Like she hadn’t been avoiding him for the better part of their stay here.

The worst part was that this wasn’t the first time she came back like nothing was wrong. It was almost like she could tell when he was starting to doubt their relationship. Except, he was constantly doubting their relationship. Even when things had been going well. But this time, it was like she knew when he was thinking about how much of a relationship they didn’t have.

Which was concerning if she actually knew what he thought.

Wag, on the other hand, moved like a zombie. Tired, groggy, and barely awake. The picture of early morning beauty. It wasn’t far off from how he used to act, but now it was like someone had chained weights to his feet.

Damn, he was tired as shit.

Martha had set about making some breakfast from the little food he had. Some eggs, some- thankfully not spoiled- fruit, and milk. Wag was pretty sure he didn’t have milk, but he wasn’t going to question it. She was the more magical of the two, now, so it was within reason that she could get milk in the few minutes he’d lagged behind her in getting out of bed.

He, on the other hand, was on the task of making coffee. Coffee was something of a luxury here, since it was so new to the land. It wasn’t grown naturally on the island and Wag wasn’t sure if it was imported from some far off place or if it had been introduced by the earlier dimension hoppers that still hung around. Spark, for sure, seemed to run on the stuff.

That didn’t really matter to Wag, though. He had a plant of it in his garden, for ease of access, but more importantly to see if it could be used to help crossbreed weed into existence. No far off land had procured the plant yet, so he would still strive to be the maker of weed.

Not the best plan in the world, but that wouldn’t matter once he actually made the plant.

He really shouldn’t be encouraging substance abuse.

Surely, coffee would wake him up. Then he could go on a walk with Martha and do that thing they seemed to do where they avoided those topics and pretended like everything was fine. And maybe, just maybe, they’d enjoy the conversation. Maybe they’d feel something again, feel whole for the brief moment where they let themselves forget about the person who was missing, the person that clearly held more place in Martha’s heart for it to have torn so much when he-

Maybe Wag would get his shit together and let things die between them.

Maybe he’d decide that fighting an uphill battle wasn’t worth it.

For now, though, he was content to pretend things were the same. It was better than being entirely, wholly alone. And, deep in his heart, he still loved her. So, so much.

Enough that he knew it would hurt no matter what he did.

They chatted over the food Martha cooked. She complemented his coffee, the beans from the plant he owned, and he told her that the cooking is just as good as it’d always been.

Neither mentioned that it was usually Steve, not either of them, that did the cooking.

They tossed little affections at each other with ease. Like it was second nature. A brush of hands, a quick smile, a peck on the cheek. It was like a dance. As though they were trying to make a show of how much they still cared, how much nothing had changed despite the fact that everything had changed.

Hands loosely held together, they left the house as a unit, holding up a conversation with ease. If either of them tripped up in their speech as they avoided that topic or this word, neither called each other out for it. For all that everything was off and wrong, they made it work. They found a way to shove a cube into a round hole.

Whether it was because they wanted it to work so bad or because the hole was a giant chasm with space for miles was up to debate.

The beach was calm in the early morning. Fishers were stocking up their ships to start up on their daily trip, tightening a rope here, making space there. Few people walked about the town, the kids either asleep or getting hassled to eat breakfast. With so few people out, it felt like they were on the outskirts of life, just the two of them. Like viewing the world through a painting.

That illusion was helped by the sheer height of Jordan’s tree. It was still there, despite the damage it had received when Tom got to it. If he looked closely, Wag could see the remains of burn marks and grooves held in the thick bark. He had heard that, after the heroes had left, Ianite had nursed the tree back to life in honor of her lost champion.

He ignored the fact that Ianite had sent them into the void in the first place.

Wag himself had left before that, called on to help the heroes that he had watched over as a distant wizard. Even now, he wondered if it had been worth it. To lose everything because he was asked to. In his weakest moments, he wondered if it hadn’t been the gods’ way of throwing him out.

That thought hurt the most out of everything in his life and he never let it linger.

It wasn’t long before they made it to the base of the hill that Jordan’s tree- sorry, Jerry’s Tree- sat beside. They weren’t that close to getting inside yet, but it was a milestone.

As they climbed the hill, massive roots stretching out below them, Wag started up some conversation about the different species of trees. He never once mentioned apple trees. It was part of his botany, after all, and important to keep track of. The types of trees, not apple trees. Apple trees were just one of those topics and therefore something they made an unspoken agreement not to talk about.

He pondered, during his ramble, that Martha could have just flown up the tree. She could do that, after all. Wag couldn’t. Not anymore. The worst part was that he’d help build this tree, or, well, make it. Way back then. That was a sore spot to think about, but even still he was in awe of the tree. Not because of the fact that he's contributed to it- no, he had felt a sense of pride for that a long time ago. Rather, because of how it’d regrown.

Ianite’s gentle hand had turned it from merely a large, enchanting tree to a behemoth of divine wonder. Its branches had spread further, with more room between them and the tips reaching towards the heavens. The leaves had shaped up and gotten fuller, surely the size of a full-grown adult by now. Fireflies could be seen lazily hovering about clusters of leaves, giving the tree a pleasant, natural lighting.

Many more platforms and walkways had been built, new buildings having been added on top of that. They stretched from one end to the other. The most daring teased the edge of a branch, hung firmly along the length of it. The walkways were either long rope bridges made of braided vines that shimmered a faint purple or ramps made and reinforced by the same wood the tree was made of, the bottom featuring fancy swirls alongside the support beams.

Other vines, flora, and bushes lined the branches and platforms. Though they looked like they were leeching off the tree at first, a closer inspection- granted you were on the tree to get an inspection- showed they were delicately wrapped around the branches and sneakily planted in hidden pots for a more natural look. The flowers ranged from all sorts of purples- fitting. Buddleias enclosed doorways, Hyacinthus were wound along lanterns strung along pathways, and an abundance of Jacaranda could be found wherever space was made for flora.

The more he looked the more nature there was to see, the more connecting walkways there were strung along, the more everything there was. It felt like the whole world was home under the canopy.

The tree had gone from the house of a solitary man to a city of nature.

It didn’t feel like the same tree.

Wag pushed aside the nagging thought that it was better than anything he could have ever made. Ianite was a full fledged goddess, Wag was- had been- a mere wizard with the idea of godhood in his head. What he made had been incredible for mortal standards, and was still incredible for the standards he had held himself to. It would do no good to compare himself to Ianite, especially when all she had done was repair what was already there.

As they made their way up to the crest of the hill, following the path from the town to the tree as it curled around Jordan’s old home, Wag spared a glance at the birch and quartz house. It was simple, sleek and minimal. It suited Jordan. Of course, Jordan himself had made it, so why wouldn’t it?

Compared to Jerry’s Tree, though, it seemed rather dull and insignificant.

Actually.

Wag spared a closer look at the smaller home. It looked lived in. A frown pulled at his lips. Was someone living there? Who else, other than Jordan, would?

Martha had picked up the conversation now, adding in details about trees that she had seen in her travels long ago, ones he’d never have had the chance to see. There were many interesting species, some magical in the same sense as Silverwoods, some as plain as a simple oak tree, but all more than enough to satiate Wag’s desire to know more. His mind kept getting pulled back to the Casa de Sparklez, though.

A thought struck him, one he’d had just moments before.

Jerry’s Tree looked and felt so different, now that Ianite had tended to it. Like it was a different tree. Did Jordan think the same? Did it feel less like home, after being away for so long and having watched it burn?

Was Jordan living in his older house because the tree felt so forgein?

Martha was going on about a beautiful tree known for the lights its seeds shone, especially during the night hours. It really sounded like a sight to behold. More than that, the gentle, awed look on Martha’s face pulled at Wag’s heart.

Take care of her.

There was a sour taste in his mouth. Wag decided not to mention what he had just noticed. That was Jordan’s business, not his.

Martha was looking at him now, a small, shy smile on her lips. Wag felt like if he said the wrong thing it’d disappear in an instant. Like Martha was used to having her interests pushed aside, or used to pushing them aside herself when people didn’t seem to care about what she was saying.

Take care of her.

He offered a smile back, a genuine one. He really did love her. More than anything, he wanted to keep loving her. But something told him it wouldn’t work. That what they had had started to decay sometime around the end of Ruxomar, around when he left.

No, around when Martha almost became Mrs. a instead of a Ms.

Bitterness clutched at Wag’s heart. For all the love he held for her, he wondered, again and again, if she held the same. If she ever held the same, if she even held something close to the same.

Take care of her.

Looking up at Jerry’s Tree, Wag remembered what it used to be. He remembered watching it burn, the pain he had felt in seeing his hard work get tarnished, in seeing a friend’s home wither away.

Now, though, it was different. Not quite a home, anymore, but reborn. Alive. And maybe, in the future, it’d be a home again, or maybe not. Maybe it needed to burn for it to become what it was now. Jordan would have never built it up to this, but Ianite had.

Maybe that was the secret, Wag pondered. Maybe you had to let things burn to be able to build them up stronger.

He looked at Martha again, at the softness in her face and the hardness in her eyes. His heart pulled in so many directions. Love, anguish, love, despair, love, hurt, love love love.

Yeah, he was going to have to let this relationship burn.

[wrong-bts-shitposting]

The Cigarette Burner

“He knew he was building a brand for himself by now – the burnt cigarette in the mouth of his victims, the closest everyone will get to the actual evidence tying him to the murders while at the same time being far from it...”

Mafia!Jungkook x Detective!Reader lol??? help

 → summary: You’re on Jungkook’s tail as he carries on doing Mafia stuff. Assigned to stick to him like freshly-chewed gum, you wonder if you can survive this case and tie him to all the murders.

→ genre: dark, angst, fluff, a bit of smut??? (haven’t decided yet)

 ‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘‘

   Chapter 1

→ warnings: quite realistic description of the murders, weed mentioning+consumption, guns

→ word count: 2.064 words

  → a/n: Welcome to my first fanfic ever?? I decided to write this as a joke for my friend Lys over here, and she actually really liked it. After months of egging me on to post it, here I am, modifying my female heroine into a Y/N so all of you can read :) Please tell me what you think. I’m looking forward to any criticism, just don’t be mean. I guess that’s it, enjoy the read! I’m trying my best to come up with another chapter soon.

kisses, Omi xx

                Prologue

Everything happens for a reason – or so he tells himself. I’m not a bad man, they’re the ones who deserve punishment is the only thought racing through his head as he watches the life drain through the victim’s eyes. He wasn’t wrong, however. He was just mistaken. He was just as bad as them. How could a cold-blooded murderer play God as if he ruled over the kingdom of the living? A kingdom so beautiful at times, but more often than not, terrifying even to the toughest…  

Another gunshot echoes through the darkest of nights, startling the crows on top of a tall, abandoned building, causing them to caw desperately and flap their raven wings, deserting the place in mere seconds. Heavy footsteps walked towards the unknown man who was barely keeping his eyes open, gripping his chest hastily and fighting for his right to live. Suddenly, he feels the hair at the front of his forehead being latched onto and pulled harshly, causing him to tilt his head up and look the perpetrator in his eyes – a pair of onyx orbs staring right back into his, as if he was receiving some kind of sick pleasure from his pain. “You tried to trick me? Me? Out of all people?” he spat the words so hatefully that he made the dying man shiver. “Mr. Jeon, I swear we delivered the precise amount-“ he couldn’t even finish his sentence as Jungkook pressed the warm muzzle of his gun against his forehead and pulled the trigger, watching as blood splattered across the cold ground and all over the front of his white shirt. He lets go of the man’s hair in slight disgust and gets up, scoffing to himself. “I hope Leonard gets the message when he sees you…” he mutters lowly while pulling out a pack of cigarettes, grabbing onto an individual one by its’ neck and shoving it in between the lips of the corpse, lighting it with his Zippo, the whole image becoming a gory, unsettling sight.

He knew he was building a brand for himself by now – the burnt cigarette in the mouth of his victims, the closest everyone will get to the actual evidence tying him to the murders while at the same time being far from it, as the cigarettes always burnt away up to the butt. Without even giving him a second glance, he walks away, twirling his Glock in between his fingers before putting it behind his back, inside the band of his trousers.

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

               “This is it, Y/N, I’m really fucking done with this man!” the tall, blond man known by his high status in the Police Department of Los Angeles – the sergeant – almost blurts out in anger as he kicks the door to her office open. “Another day, another body; I’m about to lose my fucking mind” he throws a pile of documents under the name of Jeon Jungkook on your desk, the collision with the hard wood making a loud, slapping noise. “Sir, calm down, I told you I’m your best chance at tying him to all this-“ You stood up from your chair, a bit taken aback by his sudden presence and the fact that his face almost turned bright red from the poor managing of his emotions. “How could I let my best detective just throw herself at some relentless animal?? Tell me how? You know what he’s capable of.“ he walks to her desk, his breathing sounding a bit ragged as rushed up a flight of stairs and kept on raising his voice unintentionally.

               He opens the documents in front of you, gruesome pictures of dead girls almost flying out from in between the sheets of paper that were holding infinite amounts of details related to the autopsy and the surroundings they were found in, everything but one thing: proof that Jungkook is the one behind all this. “You need to understand that if you offer to go undercover, you might become just like them: a pretty face on a maimed body… or vice versa” you roll your eyes at his last comment, not wanting to interfere in his small speech about the girls. “I completely understand, Oliver, but you have to let me in on this. LA is already fucked by his drug cartel, we don’t need them to fear his killings on top of all that” you let out a long sigh, glancing with the corner of your eyes at the poor, poor girls. You knew he was right, and deep within you lay a fear of such death, your heart throbbing at the thought that you might give your life away for a grain of truth.

               A heavy silence fell upon both of you as you stood in the middle of the office, each staring at a random object from the room, hoping that the other would just say something. Anything. Oliver runs a hand through his thick, blonde locks and looks up into your eyes, feeling uneasy “Okay, Y/N, I’ll let you in on this job… But if you die, I’ll be so disappointed”. you quickly deliver him an encouraging smile, the dimple on your right cheek making a glorious appearance on your face “Thank you… I won’t let you down. I hope it doesn’t take too long...” you trail off before walking to your desk slowly, opening the first document that revealed a mesmerizing, yet somewhat scary man: his dark locks contrasted with his dark brown eyes and his really pale skin. The only picture available of him was slightly shaky; depicting him at what you could tell was a club, probably looking up at someone. How they got their hands on this – you’ll never know. But you were thankful that you at least had the smallest of leads on how he looked like. The man breaks the silence once again, letting you know that he’ll be preparing everything that’s needed for later that night, as you were bound to begin as soon as possible to prevent any more tragedies from happening. Amongst the many drug dealers killed, innocent people found themselves in the wrong place at the wrong time, falling into the killer’s hands. You nodded to Oliver before he disappeared out of your sight, leaving you alone with your thoughts which only became louder as adrenaline kicked in – you realized you’ll finally come face to face with the most dangerous drug lord. What if I die? What if he finds out who I am? God, I’m an idiot sometimes…

 ------------

               You were nervous, you couldn’t lie. You were holding a cold cup of coffee to your chest while staring outside the window of the office, your mind absent. You knew that Paula, Oliver’s assistant was almost done packing the bag which only contained clothes and a really small, device, which could easily be hidden almost anywhere. It served the purpose of alerting the police once you were in real danger or once you considered that you’d found out everything needed to throw him behind bars. You hear your phone go off and pull it out of your pocket, reading the text that popped up on the screen “I’m done, come downstairs and meet me” the name above the text was Paula. Sipping the last drops of your coffee, you throw the cup into the trashcan near your chair and walk out of the office, running both hands through your hair as if it weighed you down greatly. Everything around you felt heavy; it felt like you were walking to your death sentence – which was… probable. “Miss Y/L/N” shouted a high-pitched voice, reeking your ears painfully. You could never stand Oliver’s assistant, you thought she didn’t deserve her job, but only got it because of her looks. Shaking the thought away, you force a smile and walk to Paula, who was waiting next to one of the police cars which was often used by the detectives when going undercover – a black Mercedes. She reaches her arms forward, almost pushing the bag into your embrace “The clothes are a bit… revealing. Jeon is known for liking… naughty women.” Paula’s sentencing almost made you choke on your tongue, a slight blush appearing on your pale cheeks. Is this girl serious? How could Oliver hire such an unprofessional woman… Your biggest problem was your judgmental nature. Maybe it came from years of working for LAPD; meeting all kinds of people – the dumbest to even the smartest of criminals, whom you respected for their skillfulness, but despised for the field they chose to display it on.

               You hold the bag to your chest, afraid to open it, not knowing what clothes were chosen for you to wear. You could work with anything, well… almost anything. You weren’t going to flaunt your body around in patches of cloths rather than feel more comfortable in slightly revealing clothes. Giving Paula a soft glare, you unlock the car and throw the bag inside “I’ll go now, tell Oliver I’m not going to disappoint him”. The assistant watches you sit in the car and drive away, wondering if you know where you’re headed.

               You had the documents with you, hidden in the glove box, as you had been analyzing them all day. You noticed Jungkook had a habit of visiting a strip club named Trinity, somewhere downtown, almost speeding to that place as your memory had reminded you of it. You were thinking of your boyfriend and family, not to mention your friends. Bound to be gone for a while, you knew they’d start worrying. The worst part was not being able to connect with them or even see them, just to let them know that you’re doing fine.

               What a shabby place… is this where I’m supposed to be? You wished your thoughts would just shut up at times, as they only made you grow more anxious. Parking the car in a very dark place, on an alley, you glance at the board of the car, becoming aware that it was well past 11 PM at that point. Rifling through the bag on the passenger’s seat, you pull out what seems to be a baby blue, short dress with noodle straps and a pair of white high heels. You let out a really long sigh, although you were glad it wasn’t the worst outfit ever. You might’ve as well worn this at some point in time when going out clubbing. Making sure no one’s around, you quickly change in the car and hides the small device in between the foam and the material of your bra, on the inside. Okay, I’m ready… somewhat ready. It won’t be bad, right? He can’t be that bad.

               The bodyguards let you get through quite easily as you batted your long eyelashes at them and pleaded them nicely. Upon opening a heavy door and walking down a set of stairs, your mind could only comment on how sketchy it all looked. This definitely isn’t filled with criminals��� A thick cloud of smoke could be cut apart with a knife, and as you waved your small hand near your face to push it away, you see him. All the way back in a corner, dimly lit by a red light, he sat sprawled back on a cozy couch, surrounded by girls… and a few of his men. He was wearing a black shirt, the top buttons of it undone, paired with black jeans and a pair of worn-out black boots. You stop dead in your tracks, your lips parting so softly and slightly, your bright blue eyes slowly widening at the sight of him. This man was… gorgeous.  How could you think such things about a criminal? As you indulge in the sight, from across the room, Jungkook notices everything. His keen eyes saw everything the second it moved, one of the things which annoyed most people he knew. He shifts his dark orbs towards the front door and sees you, slightly scanning your face as it was the only thing he could see through the crowd of people dancing around. Your eyes meet his briefly and you swallow tightly – understanding that there’s no turning back now. He was watching you curiously, although his glance was too intense, burning holes through you, wanting to find out everything about you on the spot.

               I will definitely throw this mission…

[maxdark158]

PART TWO OF BEING INSPIRED AND WRITING ANYWAY

PLEASE check out the amazing @ozmav my friend!! AMAZING!!

Characters are probably OOC because MLB is a kids show and you guys liked stressed and cursing Damian so I kept that going even though it’s probably OOC

Angel in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Part 5 ~ Part 6 ~ Ao3

Demon in Gotham: Part 1 ~ Part 2 ~ Part 3 ~ Part 4 ~ Ao3

Fanart for AiG: Riddler ~ Joker thank you @thegreysman

Please tag me in any fanart you draw for this guys ^^

oooOOOooo

Damian tried to ignore his phone after checking it for the thirteenth time. But who was counting?

He was, actually. Because it seems the stupid worry feeling will never fucking go away! It took root, and it’s only growing. Damian wondered if drinking weedkiller works on emotions. The bitches.

He wasn’t even that worried initially! Sure, he wanted his An- Marinette to text him when she got to the hotel, but that was just… a friend thing. It’s what friends ask! And they were friends.

Damian wasn’t worried on the car ride to the manor, he had only checked his phone once then. When his father questioned him about The Riddler incident, he was thoroughly distracted and didn’t check at all. After he left the room he checked twice in one minute just to make sure he didn’t miss anything in the first check.

He checked sparsely while training briefly, adding up to eight… okay, maybe not so sparsely. But at this point the awful god damn plant had grown a mouth and it was gnawing on his sanity, bugging him every moment of peace he had.

Damian was getting really fucking sick of this whole worry business. It was awful! Why did Grayson partake in it for so many years? Why did anyone?

He was beginning to understand his classmates’ sense of humor now. But “I want to ka-shoot myself,” was not as funny as they thought it was.

Damian was so busy thinking about worrying and getting more worried – the fucking circle of life – that when he checked his phone for the fourteenth time, he realized he missed a message from Marinette.

Angel: I’m at the hotel now.

Thank fuck. Damian banished all the worry from his mind – leave, motherfucker – and typed out a response.

Damian: That’s good

Damian: Did you get in trouble?

Wait fuck the worry wasn’t gone. He wanted to smack the phone against his head. Or break his thumbs for typing that without his permission.

Angel: Professor Mendeleiev must’ve been tired or something.

Angel: She didn’t leacture

Damian bit his lip. Marinette needed to work on her English.

Angel: Lecture?

Damian: *lecture

Angel: Quiet, English is hard

He could fucking understand that! It may have been long ago but Damian had to learn once too, ya know.

Damian: Understandable.

Damian: In my original question I meant any of your classmates btw

Holy fucking shit his thumbs would be cut off by sunlight he swears to all the justice league members-

Angel: btw?

Angel: Oh by the way

Damian: yeah

Angel: I’m good at text slang in French, okay

Damian: I don’t doubt you

He really didn’t. Marinette seemed intelligent if The Riddler incident had anything to say about it.

Angel: Anyway Alya tried to bother me but I’m good now

He frowned. Alya? She hadn't told him about her.

Angel: Professor Mendeleiev told her off for bothering me after my ‘traumatic’ encounter with a Gotham villain

Damian: Speaking of, are you SURE you’re alright Angel

Damian sighed, letting his head drop. Okay, fucking fine he was still fucking worried and he hated it. His thumbs weren’t to blame, his fucking emotions were.

He pulled up Google to look up liquid weedkiller when his Ang- Marinette texted back.

Angel: I’m fine

Angel: I’ve survived akuma for three years, I’m not about to let some riddle fanatic with terrible clothing choices ruin my day

Damian: His clothes are that bad?

Good, subject change. Maybe he can stop fucking worrying.

Angel: Too much green, for one

Angel: Green shouldn’t be used in large portions when it’s that bright of a shade

Angel: Also the cloth itself was cheap, but the kind of cheap meant to look expensive if you don’t know cloth good

Damian frowned. That was so fucking obvious. Surely she didn’t actually make that mistake…

Damian: *well

Angel: Whatever

Angel: Also his hat didn’t match the type of suit he was wearing

Angel: If he wants to go old fashioned he should at least match the time period

Angel: Longer coat, more layers

Angel: He is an atrocity

Her comments were appreciable though. He could see where she came from.

Damian: he is

Angel: If I had time to cry then my tears would had been blood

Damian: *have

Damian grinned. If Marinette didn’t want her fucking grammar fixed she should learn how to spell in English.

A different motherfucking bitch of an emotion appeared at that thought. He didn’t like that one either. It made him feel bad for being mean.

Angel: istg

Damian: It appears you’re learning

Angel: Yepp

Damian: Also the Gotham news posted an article online about you

Might as well bite the bullet, right?

Damian: “Unnamed Teenager From France Holds off The Riddler Until Batman Arrives!”

Angel: Wait what?

Angel: But we both held him off?

Damian: I was kind of useless, you did most of the work

God damn it! Damian thought he told that emotion to get the fuck out! He was fucking Robin he isn’t useless, he just happened to not be needed at that exact moment.

Damian: I left shortly after you solved his riddle because the Robins had arrived

He grumbled to himself. He hated emotions. It wasn’t like he hadn’t ever felt them before, but they were easier to ignore. This girl made them hard to ignore, and Damian wasn’t sure why.

He did know that he fucking hated it.

After a moment, he realized h- Marinette hadn’t replied for a few minutes.

Damian: You there?

Angel: Yeah. I was just reading the article

Good. He didn’t want anything to happen- motherfucking dammit.

Angel: The Riddler was bad at hand to hand combat. It was easy to take him down with the practice I have from Paris

Damian: I bet.

He saw the time on his phone. Marinette had more field trip stuff tomorrow morning, right? Shouldn’t she get to bed?

Damian: It’s getting late, Angel. We should go to bed.

Damian: Goodnight

Angel: Goodnight

Angel: Also I’ll find a chat name for you soon, promise

Damian’s smile felt weird on his face but unlike the god damn worry and fucking other emotions, he didn’t hate the feeling of it.

After replying, he prepared to get dressed for his patrol as Robin.

oooOOOooo

“Sooo, Robin,” Drake dropped down next to him. “Want to share why you were at that ice cream parlor with that pigtailed French girl?”

“Fuck off,” is Damian’s extremely eloquent response. He can say it in many different languages.

“Wait, Demon Spawn has a girlfriend?” fucking Todd over the fucking comms in his fucking awful Red Hood suit. At least his current helmet didn’t have the fucking lips.

“No, I don’t-“

“I’m trying to figure that out, Red Hood, so would you kindly butt out of the conversation.”

“Of course Red Robin, good luck getting anything out of him though.”

“I don’t have a fucking girlfriend you numbskulls,” Damian hissed through the comms.

“Wait what’s this about a girlfriend, Robin?” Grayson’s overexcited cheerleader voice screamed. Damian wanted to rip out his eardrums.

“Red Robin, I thought I instructed you to leave him alone about this,” finally, his father, for once being a fucking voice of reason, speaks on the comms.

“Bruce you said I should wait until he admits to having a girlfriend,” Drake sounded too smug, Damian wanted to cut it off his masked face. “We know that isn’t going to happen.”

“I hate this fucking family,” Damian hissed.

oooOOOooo

Marinette hadn’t missed her field trip this time. Or had she? Maybe she slept in really fucking late. Damian didn’t know. He didn’t know what her sleeping schedule was like.

She could have also been captured or killed. Those were not fun thoughts. The fucking worry was back, like a virus. Damian anxiously awaited his weedkiller.

She likely wasn’t kidnapped or dead. His father would have known by now and would have told him. He hopes. If his father didn’t tell him he’s a fucking asshole.

“Master Damian.”

“Yes?” he turned around to face Alfred, grateful to be away from the god damn brain-eating plant in his head.

“I simply wanted to prevent you from walking into that wall,” Alfred gestured behind Damian.

He glanced and – yep. Fucking hell. He almost walked into a wall because of the god damn weed of an emotion forcibly taking his mind hostage.

He was having a grand ol’ time.

“Perhaps you would like to go for a drive?” Alfred asked, a single brow raised.

Damian hesitated. “Alright. Where do you want to go?”

“We can figure it out in the car, Master Damian.” Alfred went to grab the keys and his shoes. Damian checked on when his weedkiller would arrive.

A week.

Fucking fuck fuck.

He should have paid for one-hour shipping.

“Are you ready to go, Master Damian?”

“Yes.”

Alfred didn’t try to talk to him during the drive, for which Damian was grateful though. He hated this emotion thing, and people forcing him to talk made it so much worse.

His phone buzzed. Damian pulled it out and checked it.

Angel: Kill me now

His eyes widened. What happened? Is she okay? Did someone- god fucking motherfucking dammit bitch.

Damian: What’s wrong?

Stupid god damn worry.

Angel: We have to all get lunch as a class before I’m free

Angel: I’m in the group with Liar Rossi

Damian raised a brow. Marinette hadn’t told him much about this girl in her class, but he knew she lied and nobody but Marinette knew she lied.

He didn’t like her.

Angel: Death would be sweatier

Damian: *sweeter

Angel: Rude

Damian: Anyway

Damian: You can’t die yet

Damian: We still technically didn’t get ice cream

Absolutely wonderful excuse you fucking asswhipe. Damian should be a politician with that reasoning.

He looked around, recognizing the streets. They were a bit weird from the actual street instead of the rooftops, but-

Damian: Also you’re at the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum right?

Angel: Yes I am

Damian fought to keep the smi- self-satisfied smirk off his face. Bingo.

Damian: I’m nearby

Damian: I can pick you up for lunch

Angel: OMG really? Please do I’d really really like that

Damian: omw

“Alfred,” Damian leaned up toward the front seat. “Head to the Gotham City Heroes and Villains Museum? I’d like to pick someone up.”

“Of course Master Damian,” Alfred’s tone didn’t betray anything about his thoughts, but for some reason that was calming to him.

The car drive to the museum was fairly short, if Damian was honest. They were only a few minutes away to begin with anyway.

When they arrived, Damian saw a redhaired girl with glasses yelling at his An- Marinette. At Marinette. He couldn’t hear what Marinette had said, but it must have been good. The red-haired girl’s jaw fucking dropped. The people behind her looked fucking dead.

Priceless.

Marinette saw him and he waved. Alfred unlocked the door, and Marinette got in. She didn’t look back at her classmates' faces as Alfred drove away.

Shit. Something must have happened. He wasn’t good with emotions though, after all he ordered weedkiller to see if he could get rid of fucking worry.

So, Damian Wayne did what any Wayne would do when faced with emotions.

Ignore them.

“Where would you like to eat, Angel?” Damian asked.

Shit, fuck, too insensitive.

Marinette shrugged. “I’m not sure, I don’t know what’s here.”

She sounded so goddamn miserable-

Damian frowned. “Angel, you okay?”

Fucking shit, stupid mouth. Learn the fucking rules. He should be banned from fucking talking.

“I’m okay,” she mumbled. “I’ve got a lot on my mind right now.”

Damian wanted to press the issue but decided against it. If he was happy when Alfred didn’t make him talk feelings, maybe Marinette would be too.

He was a friend first – wait first before what, exactly?

“Alfred, can you take us to the nearest,” he glanced at Marinette. “four-star restaurant?”

“As you wish Master Damian.”

He hoped Marinette didn’t feel out of place, but he wanted to lift her spirits. She deserved to smile – that was a weird fucking sentence what the fuck?

Damian is pretty sure he’s losing his marbles.

“I know,” Marinette suddenly blurted out. “I know you’re Damian Wayne.”

Fucking fuck fuck.

Shit. She’s probably pissed he didn’t tell her-

“I just want you to know that doesn’t change anything. You’re still my friend, and I don’t care who your dad is and who you are.”

Damian gaped at her for a moment before shaking his head. He should have fucking told her, he’s an ass. “I’m sorry you had to find out on your own. I should have told you-”

Marinette interrupted, “you didn’t have to. You don’t owe me that.”

He was confused. What?

She didn’t want to know who he was right off the bat? She was okay with that secret?

“As a stranger or even a friend, you don’t owe me any details about who you are. Ever,” Marinette told him. “You’re allowed to keep secrets and not tell me things you aren’t comfortable sharing. It isn’t fair of me to demand you tell me everything.”

Holy fucking shit.

This… this woman…

“Thank you,” he said earnestly. “I… nobody’s ever said secrets are okay…”

Marinette shrugged. “I can’t help if I feel left out, but forcing you to tell me everything isn’t how friendship is supposed to work. If you don’t want to tell me, it’s okay.”

Damian’s smile was small, and it felt a bit out of place on his face. He couldn’t find it within himself to care.

“Perhaps instead of a restaurant, I can take you both to the mansion for your lunch?” Alfred, the god damn traitor, suggested.

He wanted to say ‘have you lost your god damn marbles, Alfred?’ but he didn’t.

Instead, he said, “You sure Alfred?” like a fucking loser.

Marinette glanced at him. “You don’t have to if you aren’t comforta-”

“No, it’s not that,” he assured. Why would she think he was uncomfortable? His brothers were menaces, but he was used to them! Marinette, however... “My brothers can be… rambunctious.”

Drake and Todd were going to have a fucking field day, especially after what they pulled last night over the comms. He was lucky Grayson was working today. But those two motherfuckers…

Marinette smiled. “I can handle them if that’s the only reason you’re nervous.”

Damian thought for a moment.

Fucking fuck fuck.

He hoped she could. Because if they caused her any unnecessary harm or discomfort he would murder their asses.

With pleasure too.

But one look told Damian that he wouldn’t need to. This girl was going to be the death of him. He hoped the weedkiller was miraculously early.

He sighed. “Alfred, please talk us to the mansion.”

“My pleasure, Master Damian.”

Fucking fuck fuck.

[squeakynico]

once when i was in an incredibly manic, weed induced fugue hysteria (i ate the weed instead of smoking it. i don't know much about weed, because it HATES me most of the time, i got so impatient and ANGRY at the fact that the line in the parking garage gate was so FUCKING LONG and NOT MOVING AT ALL (manic time is different than real time). so i whipped over to the Do Not Enter side, and literally, just, schreeeeeched carefully under the barricade, and someone "ran out to stop me".

i told them i was having an Extreme Mental Crisis, and they took me to the harageboffice and let me lie on the floor and stare at the carpet until an ambulance came.

it took me to the hospital (a nice homeless crackhead whom i had let sleep with me a couple times - Jerrel - he is a beautiful person ♡ - kept my car), and i lied paralyzed in deep psychotic terror on a cot for what felt like a lifetime.

literally, i laid with my arm under my head and my other arm covering my eyes, and all i heard as the sounds of the night shift came in, was the world slowly moving away away aeay from me... they were moving someplace else, and everything that they left behind with me was monsters. not cute monsters. not scary monsters, just... Things. they moved around, chuckling to themselves in grotesque, guttural speech.

the worst thing of all, is that i Did Not Have My Glasses. well, that was not the worst thing. by wat felt like nightfall (hospitals have no windows on the inside, so i didn't know at all), i was wheeled back to the psych ward to be monitored. without my glasses, all i could see was Blobs. a man sat on a stool by the corner of my bed all night.

of course, he wasn't a "man" to me. he shifted uncomfortably, and squeaked his sneaker for hours, and his shoe became some sort of evil, leering satanic terrier with glowing eyes. it sueaked and squeaked and leered, and i Could Not Move.

i don't know if i fell asleep that night, but i must have, or entered a dreaming catatonia, wherein it was revealed that my father, whom i love as much as anyone can love their father in the world - he has protected and sheltered me from so much, not in a way to prevent me from experienceing things, but in a way that was simply, completely unjudgmental from the day i was born - had sold his own soul to Hell, in order to have me live.

i know what hell is like, becausr i have been there. in my psychosis, i *have* been there. nothing in the whole world could be more terrifying, devastating, there are no words at all in the english language to describe the anguish that that would cause me to know that he did that for me. i would rather die and go to hell than him.

it was one of the most horrible nights of my life. i swear to God, that kind of terror can make a person's brain explode with an aneurysm, or a heart attack. i have felt so close to death, at those times when the FEAR had taken hold of me.

the next day, all it said on my checkout slip was that i had suffered from "marijuana toxicity". they let me walk out of the hospital with No glasses, No wallet, No phone, nothing but the clothes on my body.

i wandered around Pittsburgh, surrounded by blobs. after the hospital, my "happy" mania returned and i wandered around asking if i could bus tables or wash dishes or something for money, but i had no i.d. so all i ended up with was twenty bucks a guy at a bar gave me cuz he felt sorry for me. i spent it on cigarettes.

if i hadn't have found the public library, i don't know what i would have done. they have computers and i emailed my mom, dad, and grandparents to let them know where i was and could they Please Help Me.

as i was wandering around, waiting for a reply, the fear returned. at some point, i was sleeping on a bench outside the hotel i had stayed in the night before (i was lying down on the couches upstairs inside, but the night porters changed shifts and the other one told me to leave), and some guy comes up and we talk and he asked if i would suck his dick and he'd give me a place to stay. i think i just jerked him off instead or something, i am a fucking DYKE, and i almost Threw Up on it. like, i understand how heteros feel about that, because i did not want to touch it.

he let me "stay with him", under a cardboard box on a bench by the river. and he gave me a slice of pizza.

i would have "made it through the night" without his assistance. he said he was a street guy who made it success writing a book or something. that.

the reason i wanted to start writing this post, is because at some point during my long night at the psych ward, i dreamed that the universe was actually held together by an infinite number of bunny rabbits, hopping arround angrily at the edge of space, and that comforted me. it still makes me laugh and think, although this is the first time i hav3 thought about it in a while.

i have a stuffed bunny now, that comforts me. they are good to talk to. i feel safer than i have during these episodes in the past. i will try to get medicine tomorrow. i use the words God and Hell, because i was raised in a christian household.

[suicidalcatz]

DOG DAYS ARE OVER : CHAP 10

Pairing : Jake Kiszka x reader

Genre : College AU

Previous parts : Prologue ; Chap 1 ; Chap 2 ; Chap 3 ; Chap 4 ; Chap 5 ; Chap 6 ; Chap 7 ; Chap 8 ; Chap 9

Masterlist : Here

AN : Oh my God I made it this far. So, I’m writing part 13 atm, it does seem extra long but the beginning of this chap is only the 26th page of my doc. It’s always a very stressful experience for me to share my fics, I think I’m really scared to disappoint you. I hope you won’t/don’t hate y/n and that she’s relatable for you, she has a lil temper. Last angst chapter before fluff, fluff and more fluff. Again, please feel free to let me know what you think of it, I love chatting with you and it can help me improve my writing ! Thanks for the love and support, and for embarking into this journey with me.

Chapter 10 : Why didn't you tell me ?

Staying wrapped in a blanket in the comfort of my bed sounded like the best week-end plan. I didn't want to do anything else, anyway. Crying was the first thing I did when coming home last night, and it lasted a good portion of the night. Mandy had follow me soon after I hurried out of the room, concern all over her features. At some point I cried myself to sleep in her arms while she silently stroke my back. It sounded overly dramatic and made me feel pathetic in addition to everything else, but I had got my hopes up so much that the fall hit hard. Terribly so. Understanding that I needed some alone time (as much as our shared room allowed it), Mandy let me be, keeping herself busy with work, some Netflix, or going out from times to times. I heard her put on her shoes and coming next to me, probably waiting by the door before leaving. I couldn't see her, however, because my body was facing the wall, keeping my eyes fixated on the old yellowed paint.

- Dude, you can't stay in bed all day long listening to Fleetwood Mac.

- Oh yeah ?, I croaked. Watch me.

Stubbornly keeping my back to her, I slightly moved the blankets to cover my head. I felt hollow, at best. I wanted to cry, but there was no tears left. My eyes felt dry, probably red and puffy, and my chest wouldn't stop aching like someone had just stabbed my heart. It felt awful. I felt miserable.

Mandy quietly stayed a while longer behind me, before she spoke softly.

- I know it hurts sweetie.

This simple, compassionate sentence had my eyes instantly watering, and before I realized it, a sob found its way at the back of my throat, making me shake under the covers.

- It hurts so much, so fucking much.

My sobs became more erratic, to the point that I don't even know if she could hear me correctly, but in an instant she was by my side, taking me into her arms, shushing me gently, putting me to sleep.

My nights were sleepless, my naps were restless, my dreams were all filled with nightmares. I couldn't help seeing Jake's face over and over in it. Sometimes people would make fun of me for believing he could've wanted me. Other times, my mind would just show me his face, or replay unwanted memories. Some part of me knew it wasn't the end of the world and there was no reason for me to get this worked up over a heartbreak because it could've been way worse. He could've intentionally led me on. He could've cheated on me. He could've taken advantage of me for sex. What happened was nothing in comparision, it was just a disastrous twist of fate. Plain bad luck. But somehow the fact that no one was to blame in this situation felt even more cruel. Like some invisible force had decided to not let me be happy. And listening to Fleetwood Mac wouldn't help improve my mood, but at the moment I didn't wanted to feel better. There was something strangely comforting in feeling miserable. I wanted to let it all go, all the tears, all the pain, no matter how long it would take.

When I heard the door open again, I hadn't moved an inch from when Mandy had previously left. Even with my earphones on, I could hear some murmurs in the kitchen. She knocked on the doorframe to notify her presence before speaking up.

- Sweetie, someone's here to see you.

There was an uncomfortable edge to her voice that actually made me curious, before some more footsteps approached my way, keeping a safe distance. They were being too fucking cautious not to offend me or whatever, like I was some damn porcelain doll, and while it annoyed me, it really made me realize how alarming the state I was in must've look from an outside point of view.

- Hey, I think I owe you some explanation.

I recognized this raspy and low voice, very slightly different from Jake's. It made my heart skip a beat because of how much they sounded alike, and I turned to face him just to be sure. Josh looked as apologetic as ever, and I knew why. I didn't feel bad for him at all. Thank God he had remorse.

- I have nothing to say to you.

- I knew you had a crush on him, said Josh anyway. It was obvious... the painting, the time you spent together, even the way your face lit up just seeing him. I tried to prevent this ending, I swear, and I'm so, so sorry-

- I know what you did.

Sitting up, scrubbing the dried tears out of my reddened cheeks and nose with the back of my hand, I gave him a cold stare. In the corner of my eye I could see a tense Mandy not knowing what to do with herself, and if she was questionning ; yes, it was a terrible idea bringing Josh here.

It all came to me just before I fled from the party, but I got too engrossed in my heartbreak to really think it through. But now, with his guilty looking face just few meters away from me, it all clicked into place. His odd behaviour whenever Jake and I spent time together, his seemingly jealous fits, the way he interrupted us whenever we were getting closer. It wasn't jealousy at all. It wasn't him being left out, or whatever bullshit he had told me.

- You knew all along, I said as tears blurred my sight, you knew he had a girlfriend. You didn't tell me. This could've been avoided if you had told me.

My throat had never felt this constricted. Now, adding to the weight of sadness, humiliation, emptiness, and wretch, was betrayal. Which made my shame sentiment grow bigger and my anger begin to rise. Slowly, Josh nodded his head. Of course he knew, it was his twin.

-I didn't know, I, I wanted to protect you-

- I need you out. I don't want to see you.

- Doll let me-

- Get out.

I didn't have the energy to shout at him, and his fucked up logic. Duality splitted my mind in two, tiredness of this whole situation and anger. The latter won over, making me throw whatever came to  my hand when Josh closed the door behind him. He knew all along and he didn't tell me anything. He knew I had fallen for his brother, he saw it, and he didn't tell me. I couldn't believe it, that hit me hard, and made almost as much damage as Jake being in a relationship. They both broke my heart that day.

The night finally came after what felt like the longest day ever. I didn't move. I didn't shower. I didn't eat. One thing I wanted to do was going back home, to my parents' place and listen to their stories, letting them forcefeed me, or put a blanket on me as I would fall asleep on the couch during movie night. However, I didn't have money to afford buying a train ticket, and it was too far away for them to come pick me up. They were getting old, I couldn't bother them if it wasn't an emergency. So I lied awake in my bed for another night, and I'll do the same the next day.

I was doing a good job of lying half dead in bed all Sunday before Mandy interrupted my mourning with her sudden life goal of making me snap out of it. It started with her pulling out the covers, and confiscating my phone.

- No more depressing music for you, I've had it. We get it, you're sad. We all have been there, you included. Guess what ? Staying in bed all day won't make you feel better, so you're gonna move it and take a nice and long shower because we're going out.

Seeing her this determined, fists on her hips, actually surprised me.

- I'm not, I muttered into the pillow.

- Oh yeah we are. There are plenty of boys in the world, you're stronger than that. So you better get your pretty ass in the shower before I kick the hell out of it.

To be honest, she had a fair point, and I obliged reluctantly, finding myself getting dressed up faster than I expected. By foot, we were a good hour away from the downtown, and with that infernal weather there was no way we were gonna walk, so she ordered a Uber for us and pushed my sorry self inside. The center of the city was crossed by the river, where the best bars were, and about half of our school's students hung out in this area, so it was always crowded, even in December. Teenagers and young adults were drinking cheap beer, smoking weed and/or selling drugs. It was the perfect place to meet new people. We could already see people chatting noisily by the docks, some dudes peeing on the river, others playing the djembe or singing together in circles, passing the joint. The street was usually so crowded that when a police car went by to see if everything was in order, it rolled with difficulty, honking everybody standing in the middle of the road. Mandy's strategy was simple : getting my mind off of Jake. She wouldn't even say his name, and had me take a shot every time I did (which I didn't anyway). Despite all her efforts, I couldn't say I was into it. The night went by with me staying in the back as she befriended everyone, fake-smiling now and then when they tried to chat with me. Focusing on what they said has proved nearly impossible, so I excused myself, pretexting I had to go to the bathroom. I needed some alone time. I didn't even feel like drinking anything, even a soda. It was too crowded, too noisy, smelled like booze and beer too much, it was... everything was overwhelming for someone who had just lied motionless in silence for two whole days.

The bartenders didn't say a word about me coming into their bar in the sole purpose of using their toilets. I don't even think they saw me at all with all the yelling people lined up against the counter to get their drinks. The crowd was compact, and my frame nearly got smashed between strangers' bodies when I tried to come through it, tripping over when I got out of this sea of limbs, and finally bumping heads with some drunk dude.

- Sorry, we said in unison, lifting a hand to our head.

The sound of my name made me gaze up, reporting my attention on something else than the floor. Josh. Of course. Could my luck be any worse ? At this point I must say that I wasn't even surprised. He looked far too drunk, and smelled a disgusting mix of whisky and beer. Trying to wave him off before passing him didn't succeed, because he grabbed my wrist, saying we should talk, pulling me outside on the busy street where I just came from.

- Josh I don't want to hear-

As a response, his index finger pressed sloppily against my lips, shushing me, making me frown.

- I didn't get to say everything I needed, did I ?

At this point I wasn't even annoyed, just tired and sorry for the both of us. He looked almost as miserable as me, and was he alone ? My eyes shot glances from side to side, waiting for his friends to pick him up, or worse, his brothers. But nobody seemed to care about us, let alone witness us.

- Whatever, let's talk.

Sending a to text Mandy beforehand in case she thought I was once again locked in the bathroom, I let Josh walk me to the bridge at the end of the street, far from the crowd. The wind kept brushing our faces at full speed, making my ears ache and my fingers sting. It was so cold outside I couldn't understand why everybody kept coming at the docks, this was the worst place ever in Winter. Josh sat on a step leading to the top of the bridge, only wearing a light suede jacket, not bothered in the slightest by this awful weather. The boy kept looking at his feet, his mouth a pout, his gaze unfocused, looking deep in thought.

- Josh if you're not going to say anyth-

- I didn't know what to do about it, he interrupted like he didn't hear me at all. I panicked ? You have to believe me, doll, I'm so sorry about it. What should have I done ? You're my friend and he's my brother, what a shitty situation. It wasn't my place to tell you, it was his. He should've known, it was so fucking obvious to everyone except him, what an idiot...

Josh began rambling, shaking his head in disbelief. I felt my cheeks color at the new knowledge that everybody knew about my crush on Jake except himself. My shame level was about to burst, it was so embarrassing.

- He doesn't know ?

Needing to confirm this, I barely whispered but the boy heard me, staring intently into my eyes before shaking his head no, and I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

- He's an idiot, commented Josh. Can't even see his relationship has been going to the dogs since months now. And I'm deeply sorry his incompetent ass put you in this situation. Now I obviously can't beat him up for you but I do can steal his socks to piss him off.

What ? Josh kept rambling on and slurring, to the point I didn't know if he was talking to me or to himself. So Jake's relationship wasn't all great... It happened to everybody, I guess. It didn't rejoice me in any way, however. If anything, I felt empathy for him. Maybe it's not that he was oblivious, but that he wanted for this to work so much he willingly chose to ignore that his relationship was falling apart. According to Josh's mumbling, their love was dying. Knowing Jake better now I could picture him genuinely trying his best to make things work, even though there wasn't anything he could do about it, and it made me sad. Because who knew this feeling of helplessness better than me ? It made me see things from a new perspective. Why was I even fighting with Josh ? Again ? It was futile and childish. I felt betrayed out of anger and sadness. It didn't mean he handled the situation perfectly, oh no. But staying mad at him wouldn't change anything. Jake wasn't going to quit his girlfriend anytime soon and I didn't wish him that. I couldn't live a lie either. Now at least I knew he was in a relationship, and I could finally move on. And while doing it, I could help a friend.

- It's alright Josh, I interrupted his monologue. Come here, let's go.

Josh took the hand offered to him and with some difficulty, I helped him up, letting him wrap himself around me, hugging me tightly, making me giggle.

- Where are we going ?, he whined in my shoulder while I called a cab.

- Home.

[aceofwhump]

Would you mind writing a fic were Klaus is All nauseas And dizzy from being sick but everyone thinks he’s just “recently getting sober” or drunk but he’s actually been sober for months now, and he’s actually sick. Diego believed him and he helps take care of him along with Ben’s help; who’s been with him the whole time and actually gives a lick about him? Pls and thank u!

So last night I sat down to write a completely different story but had a sentence for your request pop into my head. I opened up a document and wrote it down, thinking I’d go right back to the other story once it was written. Well, one sentence turned into two. Which turned into three. And about three hours later I had written the entire fic. Just needed some editing. 

I guess it’s safe to say that the Umbrella Academy has my muse in a stronghold at the moment. If the massive amount of gifs I’ve been making wasn’t evidence enough this fic should do it. I don’t think I’ve ever written anything so fast before. It came so easily.

Anyway, I loved writing this. I hope you like it :D

Klaus had been feeling off for a few days now. At first he just had a headache and the occasional body ache but today was the worst of it. He felt like all the times he’d sobered up because he ran out of money to purchase another bag of drugs. Or the last time he sobered up, willingly, so he could focus on harnessing these dumb powers of his.

He alternated between sweltering hot and blistering cold, sometimes mere second in between the two, leaving him confused about how the fuck he should dress. One moment he wrapped himself in his fluffiest jacket to stave off the chills racking through his body the next he was desperately tearing it off himself before he roasted to death. The spinning room did nothing to quell the nausea rolling through him. He’d thrown up earlier this morning which was very unpleasant. He always hated puking. It was gross and made him feel even worse once he was done.

It he hadn’t been four months sober now he’d know exactly how to fix this. A couple a pills, maybe some weed or a bottle of whiskey and he’d be as good as new. But this wasn’t him getting sober. And besides, he wasn’t going back to that. He was clean and he intended on keeping it that way.

Ben did what he could to help but without a corporeal body there wasn’t much he could do besides comforting words and advice. They had been practicing Klaus’s powers to make him corporeal again but he hadn’t been quite able to do it every time yet.

So when Klaus ran into the bathroom at 6 in the morning and violently threw up everything he had for dinner, Ben anxiously kneeled by his side offering comforting words until he was finished.

Ben tried to get him to tell someone he was sick but Klaus didn’t want to. He’d be fine. And they wouldn’t care anyway. Ben scoffed and said things were different now but Klaus knew better. Yeah some things were different but it’d be a long time before any of them changed that drastically.

He fell asleep in front of the toilet that night, sweaty and exhausted, with Ben close by watching over him.

He woke up to Luther pounding on the door shouting that they were all meeting in the living room and to get his butt down there now.

It took a couple of minutes but he managed to pry himself off the floor, clean himself up a bit, and head downstairs.

The seven of them were now all gathered in the living to discuss how best to go about avoiding the apocalypse again but Klaus wasn’t paying attention. He sat on one of the stools at the bar, arms wrapped around his stomach in a vain attempt to prevent himself from throwing up all over the floor and tuned out the spinning world around him.

Eventually he noticed that the room had grown quiet. Klaus looked up to see everyone staring at him. “What?” he croaked, baffled as to why everyone was looking at him expectantly.

“They asked you how it was going with your powers,” Ben offered with a worried look.

Oh. Whoops.

“Klaus, if your not going to even pay attention why are you here?” Luther asked with a hint of impatience. Ben scowled at him.

Cause you made me you jackass. “No, no. I was paying attention. Riveting stuff as always. As for me well everything’s going just ungh!…” Klaus’s stomach rolled suddenly and he clamped a hand over his mouth to stop himself from puking.

“Klaus, please, just tell them you’re sick. They can help. And you need help,” Ben pleaded with him. Maybe Ben was right. He really wasn’t feeling so great. He nodded slightly at Ben and removed his hand to speak but Luther interrupted before he could make a noise.

“Are you drunk? Jeezus Klaus, can’t you stay sober for one second. God dammit, go sleep it off! I swear if you puke on me.” Luther hissed. Klaus looked at the faces of the others, all disapproving and disgusted, as usual. He had been right. No point in saying anything to them. They didn’t care.

His stomach rolled again and he closed his eyes tight and fisted his hand over his mouth again, willing himself not to upchuck right then and there. The room spun around him. He was having trouble keeping everything in focus and the spinning making his stomach even angrier.

“Klaus? You okay?” Diego pried himself off the column he was leaning against and came closer to him. He could see the sweat on his brow, the way his frame shook. Something was wrong.

“Leave him Diego, he brought this on himself and we have bigger things to focus on at the moment, remember? That pesky apocalypse thing?” Five said.

Diego ignored him and placed a hand gently against his forehead. Klaus closed his eyes and leaned into it with a sigh. Diego’s hand felt so cool against his burning face.

“You’re burning up. Not drunk then I suppose. Withdrawal?”

Withdrawal? They thought he was in withdrawal? Of course they did. They didn’t know. “No. ’m not drunk. No drugs. Sober.”

Diego’s mouth opened slightly in surprised but he recover quickly and placed a hand on Klaus’s shoulder with a nod.

“Klaus just go do whatever you need to do to sober up, okay?” Luther said dismissively turning his back to his brother and facing the rest of the group.

Klaus watched as Diego got that look on his face that usually came before knives starting flying. He whipped around and shouted, “Fuck off, Luther! Something’s clearly wrong with him.”

“Yeah he’s a drunk and drug addict. This isn’t news here Diego.” Five said with an air of annoyance.

“Guys, come on. That’s enough.” Allison tried in vain to get them to stop arguing.

“Fuck you Five,” Diego spat before turning his attention back to Klaus who was busy trying to control the spinning. The world tilted sharply threatening to thrown him off his precarious position on the bar stool so he grabbed hold of Diego’s holster to steady himself.

Diego caught Klaus by the elbow as he started sliding off the stool, “Whoa, whoa, whoa! Easy there. I got you. Let’s get you upstairs, okay Klaus? Can you walk?”

“Don’t think so. Erng….dizzy. Gonna be sick.”

“Alright, just hold on okay? No puking til I get you to a bathroom.”

“Trying.”

Diego put an arm under his knees and another under his arms and carefully lifted him clear off the stool and up into his arms in a bridal carry. The sudden change in altitude made his stomach flip and he groaned.

“Hey, hey, hey what I’d say! No puking! Don’t puke on me, man, I mean it!”

“Ugh..Diego!”

“Shit. Okay, hold on,” Klaus had only a moment to close his eyes, hold his breath, and pray, before Diego raced off to the bathroom around the corner and deposited him in front of the toilet. It was just in time too because Klaus’s stomach chose that moment to violently get rid of everything he’d eaten or drank in the past day, as if there were anything left after his adventures during the night.

Klaus heaved and gagged for what felt like forever. By the end he was dry heaving, nothing left to throw up. He could feel Diego awkwardly lay a hand on his sweaty back and rub small circles in a comforting gesture as he heaved over and over again.

When his stomach finally let him go he collapsed, exhausted, onto the tiled floor of the bathroom. He heard the toilet flush and the sink turn on briefly.

Klaus felt a cool cloth wipe across his face cleaning away the sweat from his forehead and the sick from his mouth. “You think you’re done?” Diego asked.

Klaus opened his slightly and hummed, “Think so.”

“Okay then. How about we get off the bathroom floor, get some medicine in ya.”

“That sounds nice.”

Klaus tried to sit up but his arms were too weak to lift himself up so Diego hauled him slowly up and held him steady while he got his bearings back.

He swallowed several times, tamping down his nausea and dizziness. When he was sure he wasn’t going to puke again he nodded at Diego who helped him up. He deposited him on the side of the bathtub and nudged him to get his attention.

“Here. Take these. For the fever. You need to drink some water too. You’re probably dehydrated.”

“Don’t think I could keep the water down right now,” Klaus said, taking the pills from Diego and dry swallowing them.

“Mmm. Later then. Think you can make it to your bed?”

Klaus nodded and together they slowly made their way to Klaus’s room, Diego bearing most of Klaus’s weight. Ben hovered close by at all times, unable to help but worried for his brother.

Diego helped Klaus get out of his sweat covered clothes and into some sleep clothes, Klaus being too out of it to comment on the fact that he was being undressed and Diego sure as hell wasn't’ going to point it out. Klaus then collapsed onto his bed and promptly curled up with his pillow pressed to his chest.

Once Klaus was comfortably snuggled up in bed, Diego pulled a chair next to him sat down. Klaus was almost asleep when Diego’s voice brought him back into consciousness, “How long you been clean for?”

He hesitated but seeing Ben smile at him, prompting him to tell Diego, he said, “Four months. ’m four months sober. Not that anyone cares.”

Ben took exception to that, “Hey I care. And I’m proud of you Klaus.”

Klaus smiled at Ben and turned back to Diego, “‘cept Ben. Ben’s been very helpful now that he knows he can punch the pills out of my mouth”, he said with a smirk.

“And don’t you forget it,” Ben countered.

Diego looked at his brother with a proud smile, “That’s amazing, Klaus. Way to go, man. Must have been hard. Sorry I wasn’t there.”

“S’okay,” Klaus said as his eyes closed once more, “Wasn’t completely alone. Had Ben.”

“I’m glad,” Diego smiled, pulling Klaus’s covers up to his shoulders. He directed his next words to the room, not knowing exactly where Ben was but knowing he was in the room somewhere, “Thanks for keeping an eye on our bro, Ben.”

“Someone had to do it.”

Klaus giggled lightly and felt himself falling asleep. He was warm and comfortable for the first time in days. Whatever Diego had given him was helping with the nausea. Exhaustion pulled at him and he drifted off knowing that both Ben and Diego were watching over him.

[everythingmustgo]

do tell your stories from psych ward please?

ok I have a lot bc I was there a whole 3 months and ive been remembering things abt it cuz of the time of year

the first ward I was in was the worst like honestly. nasti. it was like living in a waiting room, the sitting room had no sofas just like kinda padded wooden chairs and there were no real activities except "arts nd crafts" which was colouring in (god dont even). also they locked ppl in their rooms sometimes which was scary.

this sounds made up but I swear this was how it happened... the first person who talked to me after I arrived nd decided to go into the sitting room came up to me and asked me "are u happy?". I was still lowkey off my face recovering from an od and didnt kno what to say so I was like .. yes?? and he looked surprised like honestly????? so I was like no?? so he asked why and I must have looked bewildered cuz he was just like u dont wanna talk about it?? ok. and left me alone

the week I was there the ward was locked so we werent allowed out but there was a garden w a big wooden chair everyone called the schizo chair lol. I played cards w this guy who was actually an angel bless him he told me he made a genre of music called space techno and it was his dream to play piano in front of an audience. he made me a card and I have it on my wall.

while I was there there was a documentary on the bbc about how poor the standard of care was at this particular unit and we all sat round and watched it 🤪 it was p unsettling but thankfully I never experienced anything like what they were saying in the documentary and I heard a lot different opinions and experiences from a lot of different patients.

the 2nd ward I was in was nicer and a bit comfier and I met a lot of nice ppl. there was a woman who screamed a lot at night who I sort of became friends but I was a bit scared of her, I remember her letting me sit in the corner w her w all these towels and blankets and a bunch of junk like a pile of rubber bands and a vase and a toast rack??? and we put flowers in plastic bottles for some reason that I cant remember but I kept it by my bed with the sunflowers my parents gave me and we shot rubber bands at eachother which made me laugh and the nurses looked confused af. she let me come into her room and gave me this gross vegan turkey and we lay on the floor w our feet on her bed and looked out the window but I accidentally upset her by saying a word that triggered her and I had to leave her room. she saw me later on and hugged me and said it wasnt my fault.

there was a man who knew everything abt 80s pop like u could say any 80s pop song and hed tell u who sang it and the year and month it came out but he didnt rly understand social boundaries so hed come and hang out while my parents were there a lot. he also wanted to wear my clothes lol

I remembered the other day that I ended up putting my notebook in the shower after I wrote some trauma related stuff which makes me laugh to think about like god what a mental bitch

I was in the last ward in a different hospital like 2 months. it was by far the nicest one lol I had my 20th birthday there and my mum got me a stevie nicks hat and I just wore it around the ward cuz I thought well they think im crazy anyway so whatevs.

I went a progressively off the shits before my birthday (thought I was gonna die before then) and got sectioned twice, wouldnt sleep just paced around my room, stopped taking my meds which once they figured out they considered forcibly injecting me w antipsychs (thankfully they went against this on account of Mad Trauma), stole a butter knife and a pin badge and hid them in my room, got put on constant observation on account of crazy bitch shenanigans etc.

I was so determined to not take my meds that one time I had to fill out some form immediately after being given my meds and I kept it in my mouth the WHOLE TIME they were waiting for me to finish it. by the time they left it had mostly dissolved anyway lol.

I made friends w a woman in the first ward who got transferred to this hospital so it was nice to have someone I knew there. I still see her sometimes, shes from my town (not gon lie half my town was in that ward) and honestly she made the whole experience kind of bearable. she was always writing and playing music for us

there was a nurse there who helped me so much and I love him to bits and miss him every day, he was rly interested in basically preventing young ppl like me from ending up in hospital, he had rly cool tattoos and was bald w a big beard but had this soft irish accent and was rly kind and gentle. I remember him telling me one of the best things he ever did was getting over the hatred of disco music and when hes anxious he puts on disco music and dances lmao. also he taught me doing fake karate when ur anxious helps a lot.

I used to get dominos 2 for Tuesdays with this guy who wore a huge white leather jacket and told me eminem was going to give him a million pounds and he was going to use it to legalise weed and cure HIV and honestly I loved him sm he was real quiet and constantly paced up and down the corridors but he was rly nice to talk to. he hugged me sometimes which was nice too but the nurses werent keen on that

one of the nicest things was that there was a little garden outside this one visiting room and a couple of times my parents brought my dog with them to come see me and I got to sit in the garden and play with him

ok I have way more but this is already so much dkrjfjkkd

[incoherentlynonexistent-blog]

Thinking Back....

I convince myself that you never cared...

Recalling all the times before

You let me go so easily

You lied to me on a daily basis

You hid things from me

You expect me to not be angry

You'd hope that eventually I'd come around

With how heartless and deceitful you were

Ill be damned if ill ever get over it

I doubt ill ever give you the understanding you desire

You want me to get better

You're a fucking idiot

That will never happen

Not with the amount you escalated

Not when you led me on again and again....

How can you think that ill just forget about you easily

How can you sit there and think of me in such negative ways

How could you not have ever been honest with me

Why didnt you just speak the truth to begin with

Instead of it being something new every time you explained yourself

That gives me the reason to believe you're fake as your promises were

You were never going to be serious with me

Because like you said

You're always kidding

Only when you say im being serious

Is the time to really take you seriously

And on that note

I guess that means you weren't ever serious from the start

You liked to make me think that way so you can feel better about yourself

You don't want me around because ive yet to get over the traumatic past you've put me through

Of course who wants that reminder

Not when the things you have now...

Weren't ever the things you had before when I was around

Perhaps you think I was the one holding you back

When clearly you're doing it alone

Youre in a pattern

A constant off and on relationship

So how is that my problem

How can you rid me away in fear of losing something you've done lost continuously more than you've actually lost me...

The only difference between mine and her in betweens is the time we spent apart

As if I ever treated you to deserve such demeanor

I lost everything since you've come along...

Despite the things I lost

I found you worth it though

Because I figured it was going to last for some time

Maybe not forever

But to the point what I had lost was worth it...

What I gave up to let you back in time and time again

You don't find me as worthy

You never did

While you're reading this smirking

Probably annoyed and aggravated

Or perhaps emotional

As if id ever fucking know

You and I both know what and how things really took place

We both know youre in the wrong for how you're going about this

Not to mention your reasoning

Either way I know Damn well you could be better and at least clean up the mess you made

Thinking back I recall you doing so very little

Why am I expecting so much from you now

When you never really tried for me before

You never stuck by my side

Before I became this angry hurtful person

I was so nice to you especially....

I used to be so patient....

Damn to think I once wanted to give you the world....

And when you think back to how you destroyed it....

I hate how I've become who you were those few years ago....

Except I don't have that ex that is as forgivable or even caring....

I don't have an ex whom is willing to take me back despite the stupid choices I made....

I don't have an ex that even has feelings for me anymore......

Thinking back....

I wish we never met....

I wish I never got involved....

I wish I never fell in love ...

I wish I never knew who you were....

Thinking back......

I can say with great sadness

You weren't worth it.......

You still aren't...

But hey look at me now...

I'm writing a post

That you're currently reading.....

It's still not affecting you any

Maybe there's no feeling left to feel

Thinking back you used to be so emotional

How I actually prefer that

Over this silent treatment

Even if it was nothing but lies and broken promises

Atleast I had a response....

Thinking back we've changed entirely.

But there's that part of us that's always going to remain

I hate that you won't even pick up the phone to see how I'm doing

I would text or message to see how you're holding up

But thinking back to all those times before

God forbid I get blocked again or no response at all

Just get left on read

Yet another thing

I'd never do to you especially thinking back

To those nights you calling me in secret

It pisses me off how you just played with my head so bad

And you've gotten away with it

You don't have to answer to me

You can't technically.

Your relationship prevents it

You would lose the same person that you've lost week in week out, month after month, just consistently since the beginning Of Your relationship

So you do win overall

I get to be the obsessive one

Im the needy controlling angry druggy that you can't and no longer have a need for

There's nothing for me in your life now

I didn't realize things changed that much

I never knew I wasn't good enough to stay in your life....

It hurts like fuck that it's been four fucking years total...

Why are you still reading this and not feeling something by now....

Seriosuly compare who you are to now and do the same with me

Think of how you really drastically changed it worse than what it should've been.....why can't you just really think for a second and reason to which why I've become the way that I am now......

There's another lost battle to fight....

Thinking back.....

I remember you telling me your memory sucks.....

At that point....

I think I'm done....

Its pointless when that's the answer on if you ever wondered how I've become so fucked up....

I swear on my life....

Nothing and no one has ever gotten me so fucked up as you have.....not meth....not cocaine.....not weed.....not acid.....not ecstasy.....not Xanax.....not anything......nothing and I mean not a fucking thing compares to withdrawels from someone you truly love.....I hate being angry.....I really do.....I jump down everybody's throats just for the simplest things....I'm really at lost for words on how ive become such a horrible person......Jesus I wished you'd understand that because of how you went about things.....in taking the anger and hurt I feel for you on everybody else....I mean ive become a monster.....how can you let me have become this way......its not your place now....but thinking back.....why couldn't you stuck around or make me a first choice for once in your life....even as a friend.....

Idk it just be nice if you did the major things for me as I have for you.....

It would have been an easier road to travel if you would have been open and honest

If you hadnt lied to me constantly....

If you didn't hurt me...

Idk what else to say or do to convince you to really change what you're doing ...idk what is even left to fix or if there's anything at all, but I would hope for someone who cared, I had hope that I was worth at least give it your all to someone who's lost it all for you in the first place...I don't want what you have fuck no.....I just want the time that I gave you...its all I ever wanted honestly.....not a relationship not asking for anything other than a few minutes out your day every other day or so just to chat.....you never gave it your all before.....thinking back.....idk what makes me think you'd even consider it now....

Glad to humor you....

Glad you could have a laugh before bed....

Its whatever....

Nevermind for asking

Just forget about it....

Like you've done me as well.....

Last one and I'm done...

Choice is yours from here on out....

Obviosuly the answer will be clear in the future....

I just hope that you at least understand where I'm coming from and realize the reasons why ive become this horrible.....

I'm sorry I can't be better....

I'm sorry you can't be around to really help me heal

I'm sorry I'm not worth you losing your relationship....

Idk I'm sorry for everything...

Seriosuly I apologize endlessly for who I've become

I'm not fond of her either....

She's rather fucking annoying

And I'm having a time refraining from punching her in the face

Seriosuly she's pissing me off

Can't stand the bitch

Idk why you ever dated her 😪😒😐

The fuck were you thinking

@radbakon