#and we’re so fucking similar in the weirdest ways

[look-at-the-stars-tonight]

I just talked to my childhood best friend for the first time in nine years and. Shrimp emotions

[cicada-and-pomegranate]

The Red Pool, This is Where I Died, and Art About Nothing

I think there’s a lot of value in art that’s weird for the sake of being weird. I used to really like SCP (I’ve kind of gotten detached from it more recently), and while I think SCP-3002 (Attempts to Assassinate Thought) is my favorite, and SCP-5000 (Why?) is the best-written thing on the site, there is a lot of value in pieces like SCP-354 (The Red Pool) which has a very good story but isn’t really about anything.

I often times rag on media like The Office for not being really about anything, but I think 354 succeeds at not being about a whole lot because it gives a good unsettling atmosphere that makes no sense in or out of context.

We’re taught when writing that if you’ve written a mystery that you have to have an answer to it, or at the very least a couple conflicting explanations that the audience can bicker over. (the SCP style guide has the same rules for redactions; if something is redacted there has to be a reason for it to be redacted and the author has to know what was redacted) I legitimately think SCP-354 was written by some 14-year-old who is good at writing on a technical level, but mostly picked a bunch of unsettling things to happen and a bunch of places to put data corruption. It works; it’s successful, but I doubt it means anything. SCP-5000 means something; when you are unable to interact with other people, you cease to be human. SCP-3002 means something; your memories are what makes you you. SCP-354 means nothing and that’s absolutely fine because it’s a good story and it works.

SCP-5999 is one of the weirdest SCPs because it has a similar idea to SCP-354, where a bunch of weird semi-correlated things happen in it, but it has a lot of repeated imagery and numbers, which seems like it should mean something but the explanation is that it means nothing and in-universe is designed to lead the reader on for Watsonian reasons. This is fundamentally unsatisfying, and I think the only thing it actually says is “SCPs which are just a mystery and don’t say anything are unsatisfying”, which is kind of weird because, as mentioned, SCP-354 is great.

I like SCP-5999 for its writing and its horror and what happens in it, but the way that the author self-describes those stories as cliché and kind of treats their own writing as bait is kind of odd. It seems like they’re kind of going after SCPs that are horror for horror’s sake and berating the reader for enjoying them. You aren’t meant to enjoy them, that’s how the Foundation gets you.

There’s irony in that a piece of art about how a style of art is uninspired works well as a piece of art in the style it’s criticizing. I want to say that 5999 doesn’t get 354, but there isn’t a whole lot to get. It’s a simple story that’s kind of about fuck all, and is valuable because it’s well-written and succeeds at its main goal of unsettling the reader.

Modern SCP has a major problem with how it makes new authors come up with a good story in order to get their articles approved. The only article I’ve ever gotten approved was one with an inventive concept and a story to accompany it and its implications. Arguably the main issue with this is a Watsonian one; why are so many SCPs large stories when logically most should be shit like one of those pens with four colors that you press down on the sides to use but no matter which one you press down, the one you pressed down becomes the blue pen? The gateway to SCP is the older articles which were written by the aforementioned 14-year-olds trying to write something unsettling, while now not only is there a (purported although not enforced because it can’t be) rule against minors writing articles, but also there’s a process making you include a greater meaning to your story within your pitch. 

Weird for weird’s sake is arguably dead in SCP, to the point that authors actively criticize it, and I think that’s a shame because we need to be more appreciative not only of art that is weird for weird’s sake but of the platforms that allow authors who are technically skilled although not necessarily great at symbolism to create their weird art.

[atopvisenyashill]

(with no expectations or pressure intended) i hope you do post something about how the fandom is weird about dorne, bc even as segmented into little mini standoms as the fandom is, all the corners have their own brand of Being Weird About Dorne. sometimes even posts that discuss racist aspects of grrm's worldbuilding and lopsided povs will be weird and act like anti-dorne racism just doesn't exist within the narrative and so has no place in meta and theories

i’ve thought about it tbh because yes, basically every mini standom has their own specific weird opinion about dorne, like to the point that i will see the weirdest opinions On My Dash, just like a single line in otherwise fine meta and it makes me insane!!!! i get we all have our blind spots and hang ups and biases but it does feel like sometimes people will just go “george doesn’t characterize dorne well enough” and then that’s it. that’s all the reflection they do which is Crazyyyy because we get think pieces about every other ethnic group in westeros, every other house, but every time someone digs into dorne they get like 50 weirdos yelling at them. i definitely think i’d want more knowledge of the moors and the maghreb before i do something more in depth beyond bitching and specific character and scene analysis because it’s like - idk if you’ve seen that movie a thousand years of solitude but it’s really similar racism where it’s a one two punch of old school “the exotic and free east” with a very american “but don’t worry we all know middle easterners are white!!” that turns into this hellish pit of discourse lmao.

i think a really good example of that is oberyn - i have seen (again On My Dash, in the vs tag, we’re not talking show only locals we’re talking people who have read and reread this series) people say he’s white bc dorne is spanish (give me a fucking break), he’s “white coded”, he’s not bisexual, he has no redeeming qualities, he takes his “vendetta” over elia & her children too far, and all of this is said by people who will acknowledge that dorne isn’t fleshed out as much by the narrative bc of george’s biases. it’s a thing i call the raven reyes effect from my cursed the 100 fandom days, where fans will notice and rightly acknowledge a character of color is written in a lopsided way compared to the white characters, but then go out of their way to not engage with that character the way they do white characters. it is. frustrating to say the least.

[godeviloveyevolution]

i genuinely wonder is this it? were you sent to release whatever spell that was placed on me? To remind me of the mission? to help me remember why I’m here?

i know i had a purpose with you as well and i hope i fulfilled your needs or mission I had for you.

I just feel or maybe I’m hoping this isn’t the end.

I don’t ever go out of my way for anyone. i live in my own little world. I stay to myself. I talk to no one. but for some reason I felt the need to message you.

and the unexpected happened and i’m terrified.

you’re everything i ever wanted in a friend. it blows my mind how similar we are. ive always known of you but never expected you to be this person to come save me. my angel.

the way i could just talk to you about anything. how I could just be myself without holding back. without feeling judged or out of place. I felt a glimpse of true home. and I admit I was getting too attached and it was scaring me. I was afraid I was going to be hurt again. Afraid of being abandoned again. So I tried to leave first. I was selfish thinking in survival mode. wanted to be ahead of the matrix. it felt too good to be true. you’re just the most absolute amazing insane weirdest soul ever. the loveliest. I love everything about you. even your dark twisted mind. all of you has me in awe. cause you’re soul real and authentic. soul raw. I love how you don’t give a fuck. i love the way you see things, I love how no one in this realm can copy you. you’re the first person to make me feel like I’m not alone.

I can’t help but feel we’re the same. even before all of existence. we come from the same space. same tribe same everything.

feels like I’ve already love you. like I’ve always known you, always cared for you.

I messed up I know. now I’m here on tumblr writing to you hoping maybe you’ll see this. I tried to run but it didn’t sit right with my soul. I couldn’t abandon you. I couldn’t just leave. i realized I waited all my life for you. that you waited all this time for me too. i realized I wanted to stay by your side. but it was too late by the time I came back, you have already made up your mind. I felt you drifting away. I disappointed you. I let you down when you needed me most. i deserve everything that’s happening to me rn.

I’m selfish. I wanted to protect myself but instead I hurt the both of us. i feel absolutely shitty.

I hope we can start over again

I need you so come back whenever you can.

sending you endless love and extra protection

take care my angel

[questionablequeeries]

Max was used to seeing weird things. There were only so many times you could have your life threatened before it all became pretty mundane, all things considered, but she was still extremely diligent. She kept her eyes open, saw the way Mrs. Franklin was stealing Frank’s mail and claiming it hers because of similar names, how Martha was clearly cheating on Jefferson with Freddie of all people, oh, yes, and the fact that Eddie Munson apparently had a freaking Demogorgon sitting under a tree! So yeah, she definitely immediately sprinted for her walkie talkie.

Eddie was busy painting Chomp’s claws rainbow when he suddenly felt a presence behind him. Or, well, several presences as the case may be. He turned around to see literally the most ragtag group of children and teens ever assembled, “Uh, hey?” He wiggled his fingers in a wave, then he yelped when he saw Nancy Fucking Wheeler with a goddamned shotgun, “Holy shit!”

“Munson, get away from that thing!” Steve hissed, grabbing Eddie’s arm and trying to pull him away. The wrong move, apparently, as the Demogorgon with a dog collar and a sun hat let out such a roar, bringing down its claws on him. He squeezed his eyes shut, breath stopping, until…nothing. He cracked open an eye to see Eddie standing with his arms crossed in front of the beast, looking like a disappointed mother.

“Chomp, no! We’re better than that!” Eddie huffed, and Steve watched in horror as the Demogorgon almost apologetically nudged its massive head against Munson’s cheek, “Awe, I can’t stay mad at you, Dork.” When Eddie turned back around, Steve was pretty sure he wasn’t the only one standing there slack-jawed.

“Dude, how did you do that?” Dustin demanded, and Steve could see the gears in his brain spinning.

“Oh, uh, probably ‘cause I raised him. He’s generally a good boy.” Eddie shrugged. He probably missed Dustin’s pout but Steve sure didn’t, and his jaw somehow became more slack when Eddie started scratching under its chin, causing the beast to thump its foot approvingly, “Can you guys maybe put your weapons down? I think you’re scaring him.”

“We’re scaring him?” Mike asked in total disbelief, and Steve had to agree with the sentiment until it started growling. Yeah, they definitely had a better chance of survival listening to Eddie, and one glance towards Nancy showed she was thinking much the same.

When their respective weapons laid useless on the grass, Steve finally managed to find his voice once more, “Munson, do you know what this thing is?”

Eddie paused as if in thought before he nodded, “This is my dog.” He grinned because yeah, Chomp may have become large enough to qualify as a laundry ball basket pro, but he was still the goodest of boys.

Max was used to weird, weird was her life now. As she listened to the explanation of how Samwise ‘Chomp’ Munson had come into his life, she found herself realizing that Eddie Munson may be the weirdest thing in Hawkins.

OK but Eddie having already known about the monsters in Hawkins because he ALSO found a lil slug boi scavenging in the trailer park and adopted it.

Much like D'Art it did also die when the gate closed, and Eddie was for a few weeks completely inconsolable cause he figured he did something wrong, but it never left with the others, didn't attack people, or other animals because Eddie fed it properly and while it was connected to the flyer, it chose to stay with Eddie.

Eddie had it fetching sticks and asking for belly rubs haha.

[sweetberry47]

I’ve done a similar imagine with Loki & Thor but this is another scenario that has been playing in my head for weeks when I listen to music.

IMAGINE: You’re driving your van on your way to pick up your best friend and to give them a little “help” with a situation they got themself into. Whatever they got into, it most likely won’t phase you. You both have been through weirder things together. 

You come across a pretty empty park where you spot your friend along with 4 random strangers beside them. Parking your van and rolling your window down, you can’t help but give your friend the what the fuck look because truly, what the fuck was about the happen here with 4 strangers? Two women and two men. They looked like they were either late teens or early 20s, not too far from your own age.

The four strangers looked dirty and distraught, held bloody flash lights in their hands and were clearly out of breath. 

Rolling your eyes, you give your friend the nod to get into your van. You couldn’t even question it, but this just might be the weirdest situation you’ve ever come across.

Your best friend takes the passenger side while the four strangers hit the back. 

You turn to look at them, still so confused, “Where the hell did you all come from? You all look so... vintage.” You ask.

“Vintage? What like old?” There was a man with long brown hair and bangs with a black bandana around the top. He looked terrified with his big brown eyes. 

“Well, anything 20 years and older is considered vintage. You all look like you’re from the 80s so, yeah, vintage.” You shrug, smirking. What kind of day time party did they come from?

The long haired man’s eyes got bigger somehow, staring at the other man next to him. They all gasped and groaned. 

“Ok, I’m gonna need an explanation and some names if we’re gonna keep this conversation going.” You turn to your best friend who looks just as terrified. 

“I’m Steve. Steve Harrington” says the man with lush, full hair. He smirks, holding his hand out to you.

“What? Are you going to give me your social security code to or?” 

You couldn’t help but feel annoyed with the whole situation. Your friend and you weren’t the most social people, so how on Earth did they let you get into this situation? 

Steve’s smirk disappeared pretty fast along with his hand. 

He is a pretty boy. I will give him that.

“Ok... well next to me is Eddie. Behind us is Robin and Nancy. We’re a bit stuck if you can’t tell.” 

You raise your eyebrows. “Yeah, no dip you’re stuck. How did that happen? You all look a little messy.”

Nancy perks up from the back. “We thought we were going into the upside down and somehow ended up in this forest, but this doesn’t look like our forest. You know like Mirkwood?” She asks.

You glance at your best friend. 

“Or even Forest Hills? Maybe?” Eddie chimed in. They all looked desperate for you to understand.

“Forest Hills? Like where the trailer parks are?” You ask.

Eddie’s eyes light up, “Yes! Yes! Exactly! Ok, so we are still in Hawkins?” There’s a group sigh of relief. 

“Hawkins? This town hasn’t been called Hawkins since the 80s. A lot of bad shit went down so they changed the name to hopefully drown the trauma.” You shrug.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa since the 80s? What do you mean since the 80s? What year is it?” Steve panics.

“Alright. Now y’all are fucking with me. It’s 2022 and you all can just call an Uber or something. I’m not here for games or to be murdered in my own van.” 

You can feel the stress in the van. Your gut told you they were being honest but how? You had only heard myths of the upside down. You had only heard legends of Hawkins. It was the stories you were told as a child so you’d be a good kid or the demogorgon would eat you alive. It couldn’t be real. 

“Y/N, you can’t tell me you don’t remember our childhood stories. Look at the blood on their flashlights! I don’t think this is a prank. I feel it. This is not a prank.” Your best friend pleads. 

You let out a sigh. I have nothing else to do with my day, I guess. 

You turn and look back at the 80s gang behind you.

“Ok, fine. Where do you want me to take you?”

Choose your own adventure: how would they all react to the music you’d play? 40 years in the future of music for them all - would they enjoy it? What comments would they make? Would Eddie enjoy rock music of today? What if you played them something spicy like CupcakKe? Would they understand your sense of humour? Your fashion? How would Robin react/feel to see how open and more accepting the LGBTQ+ is in the current world? What little 40 year differences would their be even though they are near your age? I like to imagine all these possibilities when I listen to my music. It makes my daydreaming very fun and hilarious. 

A/N: I did not expect myself to write a genuine imagine haha. I like to write ones like a do it yourself or fill in the blanks kind because that is where my imagination takes me. I used to write hella fanfics when I was a teenager. Lemme know what you think and if I should write more? 

[sp-ud]

A guide to using Tumblr for the CCs moving here after getting fed up with Twitter!

[I don't actually expect CCs to find and/or use this, I just thought it would be fun to write it this way]

-

1) Don't announce that you are a CC, we don't like being perceived here. You will also be sent the weirdest posts we have to offer if you say you are a CC. We also won't believe you and call you a kinnie.

Your experience here will be a lot better for everyone if you just lurk. You don't have to 'Be A CC' on this site, you can just enjoy it like everyone else and we don't have to be aware we're being perceived. (I mean you can announce you're a CC but I personally think you will have a better time if you don't)

-

2) REBLOG. This site doesn't really have an algorithm for showing or boosting posts, reblogging does so much more for posts than likes do.

Not only does reblogging help more people see a post, it also shows the poster that their post is something that people want to share around and have on their blog.

Also when you reblog, especially if it's art, maybe leave a nice comment in the tags of your reblog. Doesn't have to be much, but it can still make people's days.

-

3) Filtering is your friend. On Tumblr there's an actually good tagging system, and if you go to your Settings you can add any tag and you won't have to worry about seeing it.

When a filtered post is reblogged to your dash or in something you're searching, it will tell you what tag(s) are filtered out and give you an option if you want to see it or not.

Basically, it's super easy to filter out critical tags, negative tags, trigger warnings, ship names, cc names, anything.

-

4) Going along with filtering, the tagging system in general is also really good. You don't need to use multiple versions of similar tags to get a post seen, you can just use one.

You also don't have to worry about using any of the actual post's space as the tags are a completely separate text box from the post. So no worry about sacrificing words to fit more tags.

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5) Blocking and moving on is way more accepted here than on Twitter. Especially because unlike Twitter where it's very obvious that you've blocked someone, telling them if they try to go to your account. On Tumblr, you simply appear to not exist to them.

-

6) Be prepared for weirdness, but not weirdchampness. On Tumblr while the jokes can often be obscure, strange, and sometimes suggestive, it's rare for actual weird content to be popular. No threads of a CCs thighs here. (Seriously that was so creepy, what the fuck Twitter)

Here, jokes are more like how a certain group of people would react to the reader having a tapeworm. No that's not an oddly specific example that you might run into. Don't worry about it.

-

7) Opening your askbox. If you want interaction, opening your askbox is the best way to do it. You can even turn on and off anonymous asks depending on what's happening or what you're comfortable with.

And don't worry if someone's sending you hate through anon asks, you can still block anons by clicking the 3 little dots next to their ask.

-

Alright, that's all I can really think of for this post. If people want to add their own points in the reblogs, that's totally okay. And welcome to Tumblr, you're safe from whatever the fuck Twitter is on.

[bukojuiice]

— the kinds of movies they'd watch with you.

ೃ chars: izuku midoriya, katsuki bakugo, and shoto todoroki x gn! reader

ೃ  tags: headcanons, fluff

ೃ  warnings: none!

ೃ  my nav  →  my mha writing masterlist  → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ  please do reblog if you enjoyed!! it really helps writers and content creators on tumblr!  

ೃ  if you want to be a part of my mha taglist. send me an ask!  ♡

BAKUGO KATSUKI: when you asked katsuki what the two of you were going to be watching for your movie night, he refused to say anything. in fact, he was grumpier and snappier than usual. “don’t ask me any more shitty and useless questions. just hand me the damn remote later and i’ll click on the new marvel movie!” but, with a bit of cute probing and puppy eyes from you, he finally confessed: he wanted to binge-watch romantic movies! it wasn’t for you or because he wanted to impress you. he just wanted to. you remembered that he used to read shoujo manga out of boredom. then and there, you realized: your boyfriend was secretly a hopeless romantic and big softie hidden behind his explosive and pompous façade. the two of you start with one of the most iconic romantic movies, which was the notebook. katsuki almost shed a tear whilst you were a bawling mess. he tried his best to act brave for you all throughout the marathon. the next movie was the fault in our stars... and tears were shed too. for the third, you opted for a more light-hearted rom-com so you played 10 Things I Hate About You on the projector. and your last movie for the night was Crazy Rich Asians so that your movie night would end on a high note. when the two of you were getting ready to tune in for the night, katsuki turns to you, his arms wrapped around lovingly around your waist and whispers: “i’m going to be a better boyfriend than those shitty losers.”

“suki-kun... could you please elaborate on that? does that mean you want to be the best one out there?”

 “of course! i’d be there for you always, take care of you til we’re old and wrinkly-ass, be there for you through every step of the fucking way, and... love you forever. you got that (y/n)?”

IZUKU MIDORIYA: it wasn’t a particularly planned date night with izuku so the two of you opted to watch some movies and... you decided upon your go-to genre with him which were marvel movies! Or rather, superhero movies in general. Izuku could literally be a part of the spider verse and could actually be an alternate universe peter parker simply because of their similarities. It was something you noticed recently and would tease your verdant-haired and freckled boyfriend about it. To which he would react very shyly but he loved the compliment and the cute observation you’ve made. Even calling you his Mary Jane (although he was fumbling and could barely even say the words when he tried to tell you) The MCU was very dear to Izuku and he could watch it again and again for days on end. You were there to accompany him and binge it with him of course! Starting from the very first Iron Man, then ending your marathon by watching Spiderman Far From Home. But, not before he cried his heart out to Endgame first and you were there to comfort him. Supplying him with endless hugs and tissues. It was such an adorable view to see Izuku so invested and so immersed into the world of superheroes. You would hear him mumble to himself about the theories surrounding the next marvel movies, and you’d ask him “what are you talking about izu-kun?” and he would start babbling and you loved to hear every second of it. Izuku was in his element and you were just elated over the fact that a series of movies could bring him this much happiness.

“(Y/N)?”

“Yup? What’s up Izu-kun?”

“I love you 3000.”

TODOROKI SHOTO:  Shoto barely had the time to live like a kid when he was young. One of those missing core childhood memories was being able to watch animated movies. Those of disney and dreamworks. And so, you took the opportunity of introducing to him the wide and magical array of said movies. To revive the kid inside of him so that he can finally watch and experience the wondrous feelings these same films made you feel as a child. It was gonna be a long marathon and what better way to start with a movie that was closely related to Shoto in some way shape or form- Frozen! Your boyfriend’s eyes were glued to the screen when the Let It Go scene began to play. “I wonder if I can make that with my ice…” He mumbles to himself in awe, tapping his finger to his lips. He turns to you, eyes ever so innocent. “Do you think that’s possible, (Y/N)?” “Ooh! Would you want to try it, Sho-kun?”

 It didn’t take long till you finally started hearing Shoto humming to your favorite disney songs absentmindedly whenever he was doing work at home. and, once he notices you fondly staring at him and giggling to yourself, he takes you by the hand and twirls you around. the both of you singing along to the non-existent beat and getting all the lyrics wrong. he would be very curious of said movies and sometimes he would ask the weirdest questions out of the blue. like why was winnie the pooh color yellow or why could no one stop aurora from pricking her finger? there were also times when shoto would ask very interesting ones like why didn’t peter end up with wendy or did boo ever see sully and mike again? and, you were always there to answer his questions and share your own opinions. you had never seen him this inquisitive and curious about the most trivial things in disney movies. and so, after a long marathon of pixar movies and calling it a day, the two of you were cleaning up the living room til shoto stops for a second to speak. 

“(Y/N).” He began calmly. “Do you remember that one famous quote from Winnie the Pooh?”

“I don’t think I can recall that. What is it?”

“If you live to be 100, I want to live to 100 minus one day so I never have to live without you.”

ೃ taglist: @chibishae34  @lovelytarou @ramunegoddess​, @serossimpy @laudthingcat​ @f0leysgurl

[inkskinned]

When the honey showed up, we all just took it inside. That was one of the things about it - it was always a little warm, always in the same simple jar and the nice plaid bow. Handmade-like. Most of us put it in our pantries or in the back of our cabinets, some put it in the fridge. we just thought to ourselves: gee, what a wonderful present.

I don’t know how long it took before we all had one. For a while, the most that would happen was two-minute feel-good op ed pieces in local newspapers. People would run little letters to the editor to find out the “culprit”. Sometimes there were faux-serious “investigations” when that parent freaked out about the possibility of drugs in honey. Most of the time, it ended quickly. After all, it was a nice gift from a neighbor, and it was yours. that was another thing. A house could be 122 people, and we’d all find our own jar on the doorstep, one at a time. we would know when it was ours and when it wasn’t, no matter how alike they looked. nobody ate it, at first. It was yours, and you wouldn’t eat it, and you couldn’t eat another person’s. it just wasn’t done. and the thing is - in that imaginary house, of 122 people? we’d all buy other honey. it was both there and took up space - but none of us thought of it as actually existing. we’d put down our storebought honey right next to it and think - why did i buy another? i’ve wanted to try this one for a while. and then the thought would simply be out of our head, because this is our third bag of baby carrots we have bought to let spoil again.

it was that one person who mentioned it on youtube. actually i think it was a vimeo “urban legends” series. some person with 6 followers who deleted like instantly. but then 6 people said something similar: everyone they knew had this one specific honey story. and then 12. and then all of a sudden we all woke up to “#honeyonthedoorstep” globally trending. we all posted our pictures of our honey and called each other liars and got into discourse fights with vegans and people without a sweet tooth. In 24 hours, it was running the media. 9-at-night serious news anchors leaned over to each other and said “now john, did you hear about this?” and despite their disbelief, they’d admit: i got the honey too. I think somewhere in march. maybe around the 5th. but i never ate it or thought anything of it. i just thought - what a nice gift. 

By the end of the week, there were YouTube challenges and instagram memes and a netflix miniseries in the works. Lots of people tried to eat their honey, and most who “succeeded” were deemed a hoax - but truth be told? it’s not good tv to watch someone pick up honey and say “actually it’s not ready” or something similar and just decide to go do something else. i tried once, winedrunk and thinking i could be famous because it’s just honey. and i remember thinking that exact thing - it’s not ready. i realized i needed to go do dishes, this was stupid and kind of cringey. 

and people freaked out, of course. outside of the jokes were parents who were asking if their children would get a jar one day, if this was a one-time thing. there were so many conspiracy theories the government finally had to say something (not that any of us were actually listening), there were massive hunts to find “the team of honey dispatchers”, there were plenty of false confessions, there were rallies to destroy the things. i don’t know if anyone actually did, because in the end? it was just a jar of honey, and it was yours, and it would be a shame to throw it at the floor just because the internet told you so. I moved three times that year - grad school, job, other better job. i always took mine with me. it wasn’t a real choice, it was just... like taking a plate that belonged to your grandmother, or carrying a song stuck in your head. it was just something that was going to come with, but it bore no special attention. and then back into the pantry it went.

two weeks later? we all just... moved on from talking about honey. it was in some memes, it was in BuzzFeed’s “top 5 weirdest stories (that are actually true)”, it was going to be the central plot of books and horror movies. but it wasn’t interesting, not really, anymore. it was like saying “all people need food”. it was just true, and not really changing. every consecutive conspiracy video got less likes, and by the end of the year, it was old enough to be a staple in bad stand-up comedy and in coming-of-age children’s shows.

nobody believed the first ones who ate it. the most traction that those posts got were from friends and family who barely remembered the whole fad. we all just figured it was a weird annual resurgence kind of thing. 

but then people were definitely, absolutely, 100% eating their honey. i think i heard about one of my coworkers first. i didn’t know her; she was in another department. she told everyone it was very similar to “normal” honey. just a little tarter than she’d expected.

twitter was in an uproar. the honey was sweet to some. spicy to others. horrible, bitter, like a thousand stingers. it was perfect, it tasted like summer. most people said: it’s just honey, and absolutely regular.

those of us who weren’t ready were biting our fingernails for a while, going to our pantries, wondering - what the fuck do i mean it’s not ready? but it wasn’t ready.  

like i said, it’s warm, always. But you just... know. one day you realize you really want honey on toast. or honey on tea, honey on a banana, just... honey. i remember opening it, but it didn’t feel like any more interesting than going to the cabinet for honey ever feels. i pour mine, usually, skipping a spoon because i’m usually too lazy. i was already in the middle of my meal before i realized - this is the honey. it’s not just a normal breakfast, it’s the breakfast, holy shit. 

mine is just, you know. honey. it has a little hint of spice and sweet to it, which i actually quite like. it reminds me of this red pepper jelly my family used to get, and it makes me happy. but in the end? it’s honey. i don’t feel like i’m connected to a seventh realm. it’s good on oatmeal and bad in coffee no matter what some of you will tell me.

it’s just, you know. once you get your jar, and it’s ready, you have a little honey roughly every 24ish hours. it’s nothing absurd. it’s just honey, i mean - it’s like saying “you’re alive, so at some point, you should probably eat.” Most of us, it hasn’t really changed our schedules. it doesn’t seem to ever run out, which is good, because we’re always forgetting to check to see if we need more before we go shopping. for most of us? you don’t die if you miss a few days, even a few weeks, you don’t go crazy trying to get it back. sure, there’s weirdass cultists who worship it, but most of us just seem to think - it’s nice to have, and it’s okay to want this thing.

now, there’s some stuff out there, you know, about what it all “means”. and honestly, we all notice things. i’m not the only one who has seen that good people tend to think their honey tastes good and eat it normally. bad people tend to eat their honey frequently but hate every second of the eating. there are plenty who will snort and say “i’m a good person and i think it tastes like dirt” and plenty who will say “i’m a shit person and i think it tastes like the summer i finally kissed her”. and i don’t know, not the way i knew if it was ready, but it feels like a simple thing amidst all the messy. and it’s probably helpful that i think mine is, like most people’s, just a nice in-the-middle. i mean, the other day i heard it asked like a star sign - what’s your honey like?

there’s this one thing, though, you know. i choose to believe, because it might make me secretly happy. it’s like believing in nessie. i know realistically it’s probably just hearsay. but there’s this underground rumbling that, over time, the honey changes. just a little, every day, unnoticeable to most of us who go to work and do our best by others but still sometimes steal toilet paper. there’s these stories of people who made it rich by selling out their friends, who stole patents, who argue that others should charge for insulin - that they liked the honey, at first, but over time, it’s gone rotten. and similarly, every so often, there’s these stories of people who were normal “regular” honey people, who helped someone out of the bottom. who chose to be just a little bit better than they were the day before. who had moments of decisive kindness that changed them. they all say the same thing: since then, the honey has been amazing, and they work to keep it that way. 

my grandmother and my mother were never surprised. they have this saying about bees and their secrets. my mother said to me: we have always had these tiny angels. they’re just giving us each a taste of the world we are making.

my grandmother later tells me, while watering the flowers, almost the exact same thing: they will haunt us when they go, because they keep books in their combs. and they see us giants, and no matter who we lie to? the world of bees will know.

[andvys]

You will be my girl

Warnings: alcohol consumption, a bit of a steamy scene towards the end

Pairing: Rockstar!Ellie Williams x Reader

You just got done with your shift at the small cafe you were working at. You went into the break room, taking off your apron, laying it on the table, you heard Dina walking in behind you.

Dina was your best friend and your coworker, you’ve known each other since elementary school and you were attached to each other ever since. You even lived together. She was basically your sister at this point, with how you close you are.

“So.... you coming tonight right.?” She asked, looking at you with hope in her eyes.

She was referring to a bar, where a concert was supposed to be tonight. You knew she only wanted to go because of Jesse, he was a regular at your café. Always coming in to get coffee for him and his band. He was nice you liked him and Dina was crushing hard on him. You constantly tried to encourage her to ask him out on a date, knowing that Jesse would agree right away but she was stubborn about it, wanting him to make the first move and he did, inviting her to come see him and his band play at the towns bar tonight and to hang out later with him, playing it cool she agreed to it only to completely flip out once he left the café. You were excited for her, happy about seeing her finally liking someone this way.

“Of course, Dina. Can’t let you go there by yourself. We don’t want you to do something you’ll regret later on.” You winked at her.

Teasing her was your favorite thing to do.

“Ugh you’re the worst (y/n).” She rolled her eyes at you. “Make sure to look hot tonight, maybe you’ll find yourself a hot lady friend.” Now she was the one teasing you. “I’m not the one going on a “date” tonight.” You replied.

“Whatever.” She said before walking back out to the counter.

Putting your jacket on, you grabbed your stuff and went over to the counter asking Dina to make you a coffee before leaving. You would surely need it, knowing you’d be at the bar till late in the night. You talked to Dina for a while longer before leaving to go home, not noticing that a stranger was admiring you from afar.

You got home, took a shower and started to get ready. You wanted to look good tonight, you rarely went out so you might as well put some effort into your outfit.

By the time you got to the bar it was pretty crowded already. Some loud rock music playing. Dina was holding your hand pulling you towards the bar to get some drinks.

She waved the bartender over. “Hi, can I please get two Long Island iced teas?” She yelled over the loud the music. The bartender nodding at her, starting to mix the drinks.

“You’re not planning on getting drunk tonight are you Dina?” You asked.

“Umm of course I’m planning on getting drunk, come on (y/n) it’s Friday night, loosen up a little we’re gonna have a good time!” She was so excited about this night, it was kinda cute.

“Alright, how am I gonna get your drunk ass home if I’m gonna be drunk myself?” You questioned.

“Who says we’re going home tonight?” She smirked at you.

You gasped, “Dina you dirty girl, planning on keeping Jesse some company tonight aren’t you?” Smirking at her.

“Yup and we are going to find you a hot girl to hook up with, trust me you need it when was the last time you had sex anyways?” She asked you.

This girl was really testing you tonight.

“Dina!! I’m perfectly fine alright? Plus if you go home with Jesse tonight, I’ll have the apartment to myself, not having to deal with your drunk ass seems pretty nice to me.”

“That’s exactly why you have to find yourself a girl tonight, apartment is free you can be as loud as you want to.” She winked at you.

“Oh my god, okay whatever.” You gave in knowing it was a lost cause discussing this with her, she would bug you as long as she had to till you’d agree with her.

Just when you got your drinks you saw Jesse coming up behind Dina, motioning for you to not tell her he’s behind her.

He put his hands in front of her eyes, “guess who?” He smiled standing close to her.

Dina started grinning, “ummm is it the weird guy from the café who keeps ordering the grossest drinks ever?” She started teasing him.

She was not wrong about it, Jesse did order the weirdest drinks ever.

“Hey they’re not gross”, Jesse protested.

Coming up from behind her he pulled her into a hug. He turned around also pulling you in for a quick hug, ruffling your hair.

“Hey (y/n), nice seeing you here. I hope you enjoy our music.” He smiled at you.

Smiling back at him, “Hi Jesse, I’m sure I will!”

Wanting to give them some privacy you decided to go sit at one of the free tables close to the stage. You watched the rest of the band setting up some stuff, preparing for the concert. You noticed a girl amongst the other people on the stage, strumming her guitar. She was hot, the way she had half of her hair in a bun, she was wearing a plaid shirt that had the sleeves cut off, showing off a tattoo on her arm. She was definitely your type. You couldn’t help but stare at her, looking her up and down you didn’t realize she catched you staring at her until you looked back at her face, noticing how her eyes were on you now. Your eyes widened, embarrassed about her catching you shamelessly checking her out. She smirked at you, challenging you to keep looking at her. You suddenly felt shy under her gaze not able to look at her anymore you tried distracting yourself with your phone, switching from one app to another. You didn’t even know why you had your phone in your hand, you couldn’t distract yourself not when you could still feel her eyes on you.

Was she actually still looking at you or was your mind playing tricks on you? Looking up to where she was, she was indeed still staring at you. Giving her a shy smile you didn’t notice Dina sitting down next to you. She watched you and the stranger sending literal heart eyes to each other, she started smirking remembering how you just told her minutes ago how you were perfectly fine on your own and now you and the stranger were practically undressing each other with your eyes.

“Hah, look at you eye fucking the singer, didn’t peg you for a groupie (y/n).” Dina laughed at you.

Shocked at Dina’s words you snapped out if it, “Dina!!”. You were embarrassed, not only did the hot girl catch you staring at her Dina did too, she was going to be so annoying about this now.

“I mean, she looks pretty into you too. Guess you won’t be going home alone after all.” She smiled, taking a sip of her drink. She noticed how shy you’ve gotten, deciding to spare you from her teasing right now she told you how they were going to start with the concert now, she took your hand pulling you away from the table and towards the stage, you suddenly got nervous. Noticing how close you’ve gotten to the stage, meaning you were closer to the girl too. Trying to avoid looking at the stage before they start playing you were making small talk with Dina over the loud chattering of all the people that gathered around the stage.

A few minutes later the band finally started playing. Jesse being the drummer, two other guys both with electric guitars, similar to the one the girl had, she was standing at the front fixing the mic before she started singing.

Her voice was just as beautiful as she was. The crowd going wild when the first song started playing. Dina grabbed your hands and started dancing to the music.

You haven’t felt this good in such a long time. The band was amazing and you had so much fun, forgetting everything for a moment. You asked yourself why you didn’t go to concerts more often.

The girl kept staring at you throughout the whole concert, occasionally looking away only to have her eyes back on you a moment later. Smirking and winking at you at certain parts of the lyrics she sang.

You were a mess under her gaze but something about her pulled you in, you were intrigued.

You noticed her flushed cheeks and her face covered in a thin layer of sweat from performing all night.

The concert was coming to an end, currently playing a much slower song, her voice getting a little raspy now. It was raw and beautiful and she looked even prettier now, her eyes currently closed she enjoyed the last song of the night.

When she was done, she said a quick thank you into the mic and the crowd started clapping and whistling for the last time that night. She looked at you one last time before disappearing behind the curtains.

Jesse waved Dina over, motioning her to follow him to the stage room. You started smirking at her.“Go get him tiger.” You laughed when you saw her starting to blush.

“You’re the worst (y/n).” She said. Playfully rolling her eyes at you.

You pushed her towards were Jesse was waiting for her, telling her you were going to get some drinks at the bar. She finally started walking towards him.

Watching how Jesse smiled at her and took her small hand in his much larger one was so cute, you were happy for your best friend. You had to admit Jesse and Dina would make a good pair.

You sat down, ordering yourself another drink. You looked around, noting how it was getting a little less crowded now, some 60s rock playing in the background.

The bartender putting down the drink in front of you, he gave you a small smile and went back to his other costumers.

You took a sip of your drink, feeling someone come up beside you, you realized it was the girl from the band, she ordered herself a whiskey. She turned to you finally seeing you up close, she looked you up and down and sat down on the bar stool next you you. She was bold, you liked that.

You turned to look at her and gave her small smile “hi” you shyly said.

“hey, I’m Ellie.” She confidently said, looking into your eyes.

“I’m (y/n).” God you were so nervous, you don’t remember ever being this nervous before talking to someone.

She smiled at you, “So... did you enjoy yourself tonight?” She asked. Taking a sip from her whiskey.

“Yes! All of the songs you performed tonight were amazing but the last one was definitely my favorite.” You were talking about ‘through the valley’ by Shawn James. You definitely preferred Ellie’s version of the song, loving her voice and the raw emotion she put into it.

“It’s my favorite too.” She added. Her voice was going to be the death of you, it was so raspy right now and she looked so hot. Your palms were getting sweaty, she was making you nervous.

Ellie wasn’t stupid, she saw the effect she had on you and she enjoyed it. She felt the same though, she was just better at controlling her emotions.

She was enamored with you the second she saw you at the café this morning, she knew you didn’t see her but she desperately wanted to ask you out but you left the café before she had the chance too, so seeing you at her concert tonight was a surprise, she was excited to see you here and she had to take a chance and talk to you. Ellie wanted you, bad.

You kept some small talk going but that quickly turned into some flirting from both sides, you noticed how hot it’s suddenly gotten. You needed to splash some water on your face, your cheeks felt like they were on fire. Your skin was so hot, it was just Ellie’s effect on you. This sensation was new to you, you haven’t felt this way before, not even with your ex girlfriend. You excused yourself to the bathroom, telling Ellie you’d be right back. She bit her lip, watching you leave.

You went into the bathroom, splashing some water on your face you looked into the mirror. Telling yourself to get a grip, she was just a girl. No she wasn’t just a girl, she made you nervous. You were totally at her mercy, you didn’t even know her, she was a stranger but she gave you a such comfortable feeling, letting you know you were safe with her. Hearing the door open behind you, you saw Ellie through the mirror. You turned around staring at her as she was slowly making her way towards you. You stared at her. You knew she wasn’t here to make conversation and you were totally fine with that. She was so close to you now, her nose almost touching yours. Feeling her breath on your skin. Your heart started racing. You were looking at her lips, boldly you decided to make the first move, you got closer and brushed your lips against hers, testing the waters. Looking into her eyes, giving her a teasing smile.

She smirked at you, grabbing your face she closed her eyes and smashed her lips against yours. You gasped in her mouth, closing your eyes as well you put your arms around her neck and started kissing her back. You tasted the whiskey she had earlier. Staying like that for a while, kissing each other, her hands left your face, she grabbed you by your waist pulling you even closer to her, her grip was tight. You liked the way she was holding you against her.

Pulling away from each other you were left breathless, Ellie started kissing your neck, teasing you, her hands going lower she grabbed your thighs putting you up on the sink. She got in between your legs, going in for another kiss. This one being more heated, she brushed her tongue on your bottom lip, asking for entrance, which you granted her. She softly put her hands around your throat, squeezing slightly causing you to let out a moan.

She smirked into the kiss. You put your legs around her waist grabbing her face you pulled her closer.

After what felt like forever of making out, she pulled away looking at your disheveled hair and your puffy lips from all the kissing, she gave you a sweet kiss.

Brushing some hair out of your face. “So do you want to...” not even letting her finish “yes” she started grinning at you “my place?” She asked you.

“We can had back to mine, my roommate isn’t home.” You smirked at her

She gave you a devilish smile, “good, we wouldn’t want to wake up your roommate, babe.” She whispered in your ear, giving you another kiss, she grabbed your hand, intertwining your fingers she guided you out of the bar.

@twdimagining your wish is my command, here’s the first part to rockstar ellie!! Hope this is what you imagined it like to be!! Second part is going to be a steamy one 👀💕

[theshelbyclan]

The Young Nurse

Summary: When it turns out Finn is more ill than anyone suspected, you don’t know what to do, apart from being practical about it and taking care of him

(Gif by @nofckingfighting​) A/N: The amazing @staygold-bebold​ send me her first request and I’m SO honoured: Hellooo there :) This is my first fic request *smiles shyly* I have this idea in my head for a while now... How about sick!Finn with reader taking care of him? I'm hoping for it to take place between seasons 2 and 3, so he is still soft. (before blinding the Changretta man in s4) Bonus if there can be an innocent cuddle in it! 😊 I love love love the way you portrayed Finn in your fics and how you never write too mushy fics even with fluff in it. Hope this is ok!You are such a wholesome sweetheart, I love this idea. Hope I did it justice! Finn’s fourteen in this one (so season 2) and the reader is of a similar age. Words: 2537

*** “I don’t feel so good…” “What?” you’d asked, but before Finn could answer, he’d fallen down and passed out already. 

At first, you had to laugh and you could hear others do the same. Everyone was down at the Garrison to celebrate and Finn had been sneaking whiskey all night. Tommy kept on taking it off of him, but John allowed it. Like it was really his first time drinking whiskey anyways… You were working at the bar. Officially, you were too young for the job, but your mother worked there and you occasionally helped out. Being only fourteen, you did work at the Garrison, but only during daytime, to clean. This is how you and Finn had met and he used to sit with you while you worked, watching and talking. He was a different boy away from his family. You never really talked much, it just wasn’t in your nature. But you could observe and deduce things that others failed to notice. For example, Finn was different with John. He was careful around Arthur, because he was the one to usually tell him to piss off. This annoyed Finn, as he desperately wanted to be seen as a man. With Tommy he was acting tough, trying to prove something, but never quite succeeding. But with John, he was just the little brother. John let him ride horses, let him drink and talked and played around with him. In all honesty, it seemed like Finn could make John forget all he’d seen and done, and allowed him to be a boy once again. So, it was John who’d given him the whiskey. When Finn fell down, you all laughed. Tommy took him back home and sighed deeply, “I fucking told you, didn’t I? And now I’m having to waste my fucking time on you, eh?” You’d seen many men fall down for the drink, but something didn’t feel right. Frowning but not speaking, you decided to keep an eye on your friend. ***

The next day, you went to Polly’s. She told you Finn was still in bed and that you couldn’t see him right now. “What’s wrong with him?” “Finn’s having his first ever hangover!” John called from the kitchen, grinning broadly. But Polly’s face showed some worry, “He’s puking his guts out, that’s for sure, and he can’t hold down any water. It’s the shortness of breath that’s worrying…” “Is he still drinking?” you asked at once. “What do you want with him?” John inquired, “Sit by his bed and hold his hand?” “Just wanted to see if he needs anything…” you mumbled. “Like his girlfriend maybe,” Arthur growled deeply. “I’m not his girlfriend!” you replied indignantly, but immediately you looked down again to hide your blushing. You’d never talked back to any other Shelby than Finn and it scared you. “Leave her alone, Arthur,” Tommy spoke from the shadows, “She’s a good girl, Y/N, sensible. She won’t do anything that isn’t proper or right, eh?” “Y/N,” Polly saved you, “Come back tomorrow. He needs to rest now.” And so you came back the next day, and the next, and the next, always being denied entrance into Finn’s bedroom. His chest pains had gotten worse and he had real trouble breathing now. You were tired of waiting. At home, you had started pacing for fear of the unknown. “What’s the matter with you?” your mother challenged, “You’re never like this. You’re supposed to be the calm one, I’m the agitated and loud one.” She was right. Sometimes you wondered if you and your mother were even related, because you couldn’t be more different. She worked at the bar, talking easily to all men and flirting always. You liked to hide in a corner and passed unnoticed. Your mother preferred the company during work, while you enjoyed the work in silence. Everyone knew your mother, but few even knew she had a kid. Your mother always complained how you were too boring, too practical, too silent, while you just whished for a mother to take care of you, not the other way around… All of this played out in your head, but you didn’t say a word. Then one night, it became too much to bear and you decided to do the bravest thing you had ever done in your short life. Silently, you crept out of your own bed and put on some clothes. While you were making your way out of the house, you saw your own reflection in the mirror, and you faltered. Strictly you said to yourself, “Y/N, stop being a baby. Do you want to go on the rest of your life not mattering to anyone? Finn needs you. Now man up, and go!” So you breathed in deeply and slipped out the front door. That was the easy part done, but now came the difficult part. Standing in front of the Shelby home, you cursed your own sudden courage but decided there was no going back now. Clattering up the drainpipe, you reached the roof of the houses at Watery Lane. Like a cat, without making a sound, you crawled towards the room in which Finn usually slept. Peering in, you saw he was alone: a stroke of luck. Getting the window to open was a lot easier than you’d feared. But what to do now that you were inside? You didn’t have much time to think it over, because Finn suddenly woke up and opened his eyes. “Y/N? What are you doing here?” You blushed again, “I wanted to see you,” you whispered. “How did you get in?” he said in a hushed voice. “I climbed the roof and came in through the window.” “Does Aunt Pol know?” “Obviously not, if I climbed the roof, silly!” you hissed. Finn frowned, “Is this a dream? It’s a dream, isn’t it… I’ve been having the weirdest dreams lately…” You quickly walked over to his bed and knelt down next to it, “I’m really here Finn.” “You climbed the roof,” Finn raised his eyebrows, “Y/N would never climb a roof. Without permission from Aunt Pol. In the middle of the night.” “Well, I did.” “In my dream you did.” “Finn!” you said, a little louder than anticipated, “It’s not a dream!” And you pinched him, “See?” “Ow!” he called out, “That hurt…” He actually looked a little betrayed and hurt, so you had difficulty in stopping yourself from laughing. You managed to hide it though, by taking a cloth from a washing basin and dabbing his head with it. He was burning up and worry took a hold of you. “Y/N?” Finn asked, “What are you doing?” “Taking care of you,” you said matter-of-factly. “Why?” “Well, I can’t imagine your brothers are doing much to help you,” annoyance slipped into your tone. “John’s scared,” Finn said softly, “We lost Martha and he doesn’t like people being ill after that. Tommy thinks it’s just the whiskey, maybe they all do. Arthur was never great with… anything really.” “What about Pol?” you asked, while taking his pulse with two fingers. Finn shrugged a little, “She’s got Michael now.” Full of sympathy, you looked at him. “I’m glad you’re here,” he smiled, “Got bored.” “Your pulse is fast,” you commented, “Have you been drinking enough?” But the two of you were rudely interrupted by someone barging into the room. Polly’s eyebrows rose, she looked like she was about to start yelling, but then motioned for you to follow her. Without a second thought, you obeyed. “Care to tell me what’s been going on?” she demanded once you were downstairs. You were officially scared of her, but answered, “He needs someone to look after him.” “Does he now?” “He’s seriously ill, Polly,” you said, but quickly followed it with, “Sorry, Miss Gray…” And for the second time, Tommy emerged from the shadows, “No need to stand on formal ceremony. How did you get into my house?” “Roof,” you practically trembled. “Jesus Christ…” Polly sighed, “Young love, that’s all we need…” “It’s not about that!” you called out, “He’s actually ailing! And he’s still vomiting after three days, he’s dehydrated, has difficulty breathing, a seriously high fever and his pulse is too fast. I don’t think it’s the whiskey, Mr. Shelby.”

“Not the whiskey, eh?” he slowly lit a cigarette, “Then what is your diagnosis?” “Influenza,” you said at once, “Saw my father die of it.” “And you checked his fever and pulse, you said?” Polly asked, in a much calmer voice now. “Yes, both elevated. He needs medicine,” you said in a practical manner, “I can see if I can get any Ginseng or elderberry, but I can’t get a hold of any other drugs.” “Surely it’s not that serious…” Polly objected. “It is,” you interrupted her, “he needs medicine fast and he needs fluids. He seems fine, but tonight might be critical.”

“Tell me, Y/N, how do you know all of this,” Tommy asked softly, seemingly unaffected by all of this. Again, you blushed, “I want to be a nurse.” “Makes sense,” Polly smirked a little. “I mean, I would like to…” you stumbled, “Can’t, but, I still want to help people…” Tommy understood at once, “If you can save Finn tonight, I’ll pay for your schooling. Now, tell me what I need to get.” Polly turned around and looked at her nephew with big eyes, asking, but not speaking out loud. He did reply however, “Y/N’s the most sensible person I know and she’s only fourteen, Pol. We’re not losing Finn. Let her take care of him.” For a moment, it looked like Polly was about to argue with him again, but then she closed her mouth. After a few seconds of silence, she asked, “What can I do?” “Do you have any green tea?” you grew shy at ordering a woman like Polly Gray about, “Green tea would be good for him…” “Tea,” she repeated and stood up to make some, “Anything else?” “Maybe you could send someone to my mother’s house, because I know she has the elderberry and Ginseng I mentioned.” “I’ll send John,” Tommy nodded and he told you, “Go sit with Finn. Let us know if anything changes.” Suddenly feeling numb, you walked up the stairs again. It was like this little conversation had only just made clear to you in how much danger Finn actually was. And it scared you, because Finn really was your only friend and you needed him. Sitting by his bed, he had lost consciousness again. It was as you had said: this night would be critical. Whenever he did wake a little, you tried pouring some of the green tea into him and luckily he kept it down. Still, his pulse was racing and his fever was blazing. Waiting and praying, you had no idea that downstairs Polly was doing the exact same thing. The next day went by uneventful. It seemed impossible to get him to drink enough, but you never stopped trying, mixing different drugs in with the liquids and teas, hoping it would be enough to save him. Every two hours or so, Tommy came walking up the stairs and when he came into the room, he only asked one question: “Has the danger passed?” You had to keep on disappointing him over and over. When Finn was awake, he ailed. ‘Awake’ was too liberal a term anyways, because you could no longer talk to him and his eyes wouldn’t focus. Sometimes he’d ask for you and when you talked to him and he recognised you voice, he became calm again and drifted off to sleep. “Y/N?” he once asked, “When I die, where will I go?” “Heaven, I suppose…” you muttered, “But you’re not dying, Finn, I won’t allow it. Now, drink this and rest.” “What do you mean, you won’t allow it?” “You’re young and you still have things to do!” you called out. “Like what?” he muttered, “Business? My brothers all think I’m just a kid… useless…” Angrily, you threw the wet cloth on his head again, “Well, I’d miss you. I need someone to talk to while I’m working and that’s you. Now, stop talking about dying.” “Okay,” he whispered, and drifted off again.

Another few hours passed and he wasn’t awake much. Was his fever going down, or were you just imagining it? Maybe it was wishful thinking…

The next time Finn woke up, he was complaining, “I’m cold. Is it cold? Because I’m really cold…”

And the concern was right back, because he was actually sleeping under five blankets already and even though it was Birmingham, it was in fact summer.

“Y/N,” he whined, “I’m really cold…”

“Sweetheart, I don’t know what else to do. Do you want some more tea?”

“That doesn’t help.”

So you decided quickly, “Okay, move. I’m going in.”

His eyes opened a little more in surprise, “In?”

“In the bed,” you clarified, “don’t get excited. I’m warm, boiling actually because of the fire, and I can warm you.”

So here you were, in bed with Finn Shelby. And for the first time, you felt your own pulse quickening.

Of course this was the moment that Tommy chose to check up on Finn again, taking half his family with him. They just stood there and stared.

“He was cold,” you explained meekly.

“Right,” Tommy said, smoking quietly.

“How is he?” Polly asked.

It’d been a few hours since you last checked and when you felt for his pulse, it appeared to have slowed down a little. Also, his head wasn’t feeling as hot as it had been before. He hadn’t vomited for a few hours now and when you looked at him, you saw he was wide awake, with a small smile of satisfaction playing around his lips.

“He doesn’t look unhappy,” John ventured.

“He has no bloody reason to be unhappy,” Arthur added with a grin.

“Tell me,” Tommy said simply.

And you sighed a sigh of relief, “The danger had passed.”

“Better thank your girlfriend, Finn!” John practically cheered.

“I’m not…” you sighed, but you didn’t have the energy to finish that sentence.

“Leave them be,” Polly said in a soft voice, “they both need to rest now.”

“I wouldn’t rest much with my girlfriend in bed…” John continued teasing.

You ground out, for what felt like the 20

th

time, “Not. His. Girlfriend.”

Finally, everyone left, which took some force on Polly’s part. You looked at Finn and noticed he was getting a bit of colour back into his cheeks already. He’d even complained about being hungry, which was surely a good sign.

“Y/N?” he asked.

“Yes,” you said softly, “what is it?”

“I have a question,” he tried to sit up, but you wouldn’t let him, “Thank you for taking care of me, but why?”

“You’re my friend,” you stated simply.

He shook his head, “No.”

“No?”

He didn’t respond for a while, but then repeated, “Y/N?”

“Yes?”

“Just ignore my brothers and whatever they’re saying.”

“They’re wrong,” you smiled, “They don’t even know us.”

“They don’t,” he confirmed and then he was silent for a few moments, fidgeting with the buttons of his pyjama’s.

“Y/N?”

“Finn?”

“I don’t want them to be wrong…”

“What do you mean?” you furrowed your brow while he stared at you with an expectant look.

“Will you be my girlfriend?”

***

Masterlist

[lokittystuckinatree]

Assorted Sylki headcanons:

General

Loki is genderfluid, and goes by multiple prounouns, but I’m not sure about Sylvie. Perhaps she is fluid as well, or maybe she’s cis, agender or a trans woman. My current head-canon is that she is AMAB and uses she/they prounouns.

They are both bi/pan (duh), though I headcanon Loki as gray-aro and possibly poly. Once again not sure about Sylvie.

They have a lot of the same hobbies. Both being huge fans of literature, history, science and the arts.

This leads to lots and lots of deep and nerdy conversations.

Ultimate power couple. Could probably take down Thanos by themselves if they teamed up. They laugh together, they fight together, they teach eachother magic and learn some together as well.

I feel like they would develop some healthy competition here. They love eachother enough to be more proud than jealous if one learns something faster or is more natural at a specific skill.

They totally fight for Mobius’s attention. Mobius is just very happy to have two Loki variants in his life to study. (And be besties with of course)

I’m not saying they adopt kid Loki, but I’m not not saying it either...

They have thier ups and downs but always come back to eachother. They are literal soulmates, after all.

Emo

They still ask eachother if they’re okay.

Loki writes her poetry and reads and/or sings her to sleep. She likes to give him massages or use her enchantment to soothe him.

They love slow dancing, though it takes a little effort to get Sylvie onto the dance floor in public. Their song is “if you love me” by Brenda Lee.

He tells her everything about Asgard, reteaches her Asgardian, tells her about the life she could have had. She tells him tales of things she’s seen and he could only dream of.

Then Loki takes her to Asgard. She gets to meet his family. Perhaps they even manage to go back and meet hers.

Loki helps Sylvie trust again, and teaches her how to have fun and be vulnerable. He is the only person she will cry around.

Sylvie helps Loki love himself and opens him up to life paths and ways of thinking he isn’t used to.

I don’t think they’ll have thier happy ending, as much as I want them to. As much as they deserve. So when they are inevitably parted, they console themselves with the knowledge that somewhere, sometime, they are eternal.

But even eternity isn’t forever. In that eternity, they die hand in hand.

Mischief

They cause a LOT of trouble at family gatherings and similar events. They crashed Sif and Valkyrie’s wedding. The heros, Dr. Strange in particular, are fucking fed up with them. The Peters love them.

Everyone is weirded out by their relationship but still somehow ships it. They receive lots of teasing and “go fuck yourself” jokes, as well as the odd “stop touching yourself and concentrate.” Thor definitely finds it weirdest.

Sick of people assuming they’re related, Loki and Sylvie start playing along and introduce themselves as siblings just to see the horror on people’s faces when they’re caught kissing.

But sometimes they’ll use illusion projection to have some (Ahem) fun in public and/or avoid being walked in on.

Matching outfits. Enough said. Honestly if we don’t get to see both of them donning the full costume in season two...

They shape shift into eachother sometimes to either annoy other people or annoy eachother. On a smaller scale, they’ll sometimes switch their hair colors or headpieces for a laugh.

Trick tournaments. They know eachother so well that is nearly impossible to lie to the other. So they make a challenge of it. They compete to see who can prank or fool who first. The winner gets a...ahem...special treat that night. They’re both incredible actors, so these games get intense.

They tease eachother constantly. This banter can get quite mean, but they both know it’s out of love.

Spicy (18+)

These two have two kinds of sex: tearful, tender lovemaking, and the wildest kinkiest shit conceivable. We’re talking shapeshifting, consensual enchantment, illusions, knife play, and some of the strangest and most messed up foreplay you can imagine.

Some of their faves include King and Queen (on Asgard’s throne), twincest (you know they would), conjuring an illusion they’re fucking in front of everyone they know...walking around in public appearing naked to eachother but clothed to everyone else...

It’s also very good sex. They know exactly what the other wants and how. And they have a lot of it. Everywhere. And in the strangest places. You can’t even imagine the situations they’ve been caught in.

Oh and they’re both switches. Sometimes he’ll dominate her and she’ll finally trust someone else to be in control. Sometimes she’ll peg him. Remind him just how powerful she is, as if he needs reminding.

Loki does this all the time, but sometimes Sylvie will change up her genitals for a twist. Or her species.

When it’s rough, it’s rough. Scratching, screaming, roughhousing, biting. Lots and lots of biting.

When it’s tender, it’s tender. Loki whispers softly in asgardian. Sylvie admits things she never has before. They trace patterns on skin. Kiss tears away.

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Laid out cold, now we're both alone (part 2)

A/N: Hello, this fic is very important to me because I tried my best to give justice to such a cool idea and I hope I did a good job. Plus I don't do multichapter ofter, so this was a challenge. 

I wanna thank the lovely @livdonna for proofreading my work, you're literally the best <3. 

P.S. If you want to get tagged in the next chapters, let me know.

Summary: Nikki visits Mick to give him a very important task.

Warnings: Major Character Death,Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Drug Use, Angst, Overdose.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx x Tommy Lee

Chapter 1

Taglist: @slashscowboyboots @witchytombstonesmile @arnold-layne @emometalhead​ @i-dont-like-rice​ @nikki-sexx​ @smokeandmirrorz​

Mick was supposed to not give a shit about Nikki. He and the stupid drummer had tormented him and his wife for months on ends, making the whole tour a living hell and he didn’t need to have even more things to worry about. So what if his bassist decided to get addicted to heroin? He was a fucking dumbass but it wasn’t his problem.  He would end up killing himself and it wasn’t like Mick could have done something, not when his whole body was torturing him.

The only problem was that he cared, deep down. He cared about the fucker and hearing the news that he was gone forever hit him.  He lost one of his friends and the band all together in a day, what would have happened? He hated to admit he was scared about the future, it was hard to imagine Motley Crue without Nikki.

He sighed, turning off yet another discussion about his death. They didn’t call him yet but something was telling him that they had to release a statement soon.  Doc was probably freaking out somewhere crying for all his millions of dollars lost.

“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… sorry about that, man” A voice incredibly similar to Nikki said, making Mick jump up.

Nikki didn’t feel anything, one moment they were in the ambulance and the other they were on the beach.  He was confused for a moment before he remembered that Mick had a beach house, and stared at it for a bit. He didn’t know much about the guitarist, maybe almost nothing but he respected him so much.  He was one of the strongest dudes he had ever met.

The weirdest thing about all of this was probably how he was only able to feel certain things, no cravings or sand under his feet as he was walking, yet he would still feel guilt, fear, love, worry… it didn’t make sense but he wasn’t in the mood to question the universe’s rules.

People can’t see you until you decide to show yourself. You have to remember or otherwise they can’t hear or see you.

The voice still freaked him out, but at the same time he was grateful for it to be there… it made him feel less alone, which was great considering how he felt lonely for his entire life.

“You’re not alone Nikki, I’ll always be there with you, through highs and lows”

“God it sounds like a marriage vow, T-Bone”

“Well if I could I’d marry now…”

He shook his head, trying to get the memory out.  It wasn’t the time to be sentimental and risk fucking everything up, so he walked ( more like flew) through the front door and found Mick sitting on the couch.

“Fucking Nikki, you had to die at the worst moment, didn’t you?”

“Yeah… sorry about that, man”. The bassist hoped that he was heard, otherwise it would have been pretty embarrassing.

Mick visibly jumped at hearing Nikki’s voice and quickly turned around to look at him.  From his widened eyes and confused expression, he knew he probably looked fucking transparent.

“Okay first of all why the hell are you here talking to me if you’re dead? Then why the fuck can I see myself through you ?”

The black haired man just realized that he had no idea how to explain everything and be believed, he just went along with whatever the voice in his head was saying, but now it was different. He fumbled with his hand and realized he couldn’t feel them, while he tried to come up with the best way to explain to his friend how he was a ghost and why he was there.

“I died… I have no idea how I came back but I have unfinished business and I need to talk to you!”

The guitarist looked at him up and down, clearly skeptical.  However, there wasn’t much arguing… Nikki’s ghost was literally standing in front of him.

“Okay I have no idea if this is a dream, I’m dead or in a coma, or simply I drank too much but now I’ll grab some vodka and you’ll spill your little secrets as you like”.

Nikki smiled a bit… He honestly felt normal for the first time since he was brought back.  Having Mick joking was so familiar, usually Tommy was the aim of his jokes and they all laughed because they were all so unexpected…

Tommy. Thinking about him still hurt, again he wondered if he was okay and how much he missed him… but it wasn’t his time now.  He had other things to talk about as Mick came back into the living room with his glass.

“Mick… you gotta promise me that you won’t let Motley Crue die, that you will fight to keep the band’s legacy.”

The older man looked at him surprised, rolling his eyes.

“Well that’s a bit hard when our bassist and songwriter died!”

Rage and resentment were heavy in his voice but there was more : fear and sadness. Nikki felt guilty and he fucking hated it, it was so unlike him but he couldn’t help it… Mick cared about the band as much as he did.  He always said the band was his life, before heroin came into the picture, but it was also Mick’s and he probably destroyed everything.

“You will find another one, another bassist who is also a songwriter…” The words felt so foreign coming from his mouth.  They even hurt a bit but they were necessary.

“I know you care about this band as much as I do, Mick. I know how much you’ve worked your ass off in shitty bands, trying to find the one that was going to break… I might be dead but Crue can’t have the same fate”.

Mick scoffed, taking a long sip of his vodka.

“It’s not easy, it’s not like we can find the perfect match like we did. Plus, everyone will probably hate him for replacing you!”

The frustration was almost tangible, but there was something else… Mick was scared, he knew everything was about to fade away because of Nikki’s actions, he was already looking at the boat sinking. Nikki started to panic because his band had to live, even in his death! It was pointless and selfish but that was the only thing people could remind him of.

“If you give up, then Vince and Tommy will do the same! I know that you think no one will take you, but the truth is they will. Crue is what it is because of our vision, you are part of it and I’m asking you to keep it going. Think of this as my dying man’s wish… even if I’m already dead”

The older man’s grip on his glass got tighter, his eyes lost in thought as he was pondering Nikki’s words. It was hard to take in, hell that was an understatement, it was fucking insane and probably wouldn’t work but the bassist needed to have this false hope.

“It’s so fucking weird, you know? To realize you’re fucking dead yet here talking to me.”

He was deflecting, Nikki knew it, but didn’t want to push it too far. He learned to know Mick, he kept his promises and he was a hard worker and with a good dose of luck and jokes, you got him to your side.

“Yeah, do you remember how I said you weren’t going to make it in that interview? Well, karma hits like a bitch!”

“Mick might not make it , he drinks a little too much and it looks rough” Mick quoted, trying to imitate Nikki’s voice.

“Yeah and then you said something like I heard what you said and you’re dead, fuck I guess you were right” He laughed but Mick didn’t.

Oh c’mon so what if he was joking about his death? It’s not like anyone really cared about him.  They just saw him as a burden, which he was. Not his mom, nor his band or his Tommy would have really missed him… they would eventually move on.

“You’re a fucking idiot.” He said annoyed but his lips formed a small smile.

“I know, I know. Mick… please promise me that. If Crue is going to end, then my whole life didn’t mean anything! Ple…” He stopped himself, he was so fucking close to begging but he couldn’t. Nikki Sixx didn’t fucking beg, not in life or death.

“I’m thinking about it!”

He really meant the first part. He spent all his teenage and adult years creating the band of his dreams and making sure they conquered the world.  This band was his escape; his attempt at redemption after his shitty childhood. Nobody loved Frank Feranna but he didn’t care, he would become Nikki Sixx and be super fucking famous!

He didn’t need anyone’s love, except that he did.

“ I love you, Nikki.”

“ No you don’t, nobody does, T-Bone”

“Well I fucking do. You gotta pass on my dead body before you’ll hear me not saying it over and over”

His heart might have stopped, but he still felt the big wave of nostalgia hitting him. He couldn’t do it, he would have never been ready to see him again.

“Okay, I will. But listen to me, it won’t be easy and I’m an old man with a fucked up back, so don’t send demons against me if I fail!” The little spark of determination in his eyes relaxed Nikki, he was on board.

“I fucking knew you were the best, Mars! If I wasn’t dead I’d probably tattoo your face on me as a thank you!”

“Oh gross, never say that again!” He pretended to be disgusted but his eyes betrayed him, the small softness in them told Nikki he felt touched.

“Who knows, maybe in hell they have tattoos for the ghosts. God we used to hate each other and now we are two peas in a pod.”

“I still hate you.”

“Ugh, you crushed my heart Mick”

The guitarist flipped him off, rolling his eyes. Nikki desperately wanted to keep talking, if he did then he could have pretended nothing changed, right? He didn’t have to face Vince and Tommy and go through the light… everything would have stayed the same or he could fool himself that it would.

I think it’s time to go to the next person.

The voice was demanding yet still calm. Nikki knew that he couldn’t stay forever, they had to prevent spirits from just lingering into the real world like that, it made him a bit angry but he understood it. It wasn’t like he could have done much anyway…He was just a shell of what he used to be.

“I gotta go Mick…” He wanted to punch himself because he sounded so fucking pathetic, but the other man gave him a compassionate smile.

What he fuck are you, a little small puppy? Oh look Frankie is scared to leave his illusion of a family.

Mick walked him to the other without saying anything, but before turning the handle, which was pointless because Nikki could have just passed through the door, he broke the silence.

“Try to give us some signs, okay? Show us that you’re there… but don’t you fucking dare spill my vodka or I’ll make you two times dead!”

“Oh that’s exactly what I’ll do, thanks for the suggestion!”

He stepped outside and looked at Mick one last time.

“You promised, alien. You gotta do it!”

“Yeah yeah, you better repay me when I come to join you there…” And with one last look, Mick closed the door.

Nikki felt all of the weight crushing down on his body, even if it was made of air. He simply stood still, his mind racing like a freight train, trying to take everything in but also getting ready for his next move… being overwhelmed was an understatement, he felt peeled down like an orange and this was only the beginning. He felt like a fucking coward but he just wanted to get over it, was it that bad to accept his fate and disappear without facing anyone?

You are going to abandon him again? You know why you need to talk to Vince, and you know this will be your last chance to see him, asshole!

He went to kick the sand, but he couldn’t touch it. God, how frustrating was that!

So where are we going next?

Nikki would have wanted to scream at him, give him the middle finger and just run away but it wouldn’t have been helpful, would it? So he forced himself to be as neutral as possible.

“Vince Neil. Take me to his house.”

[losille2000]

The Swan, Chapter 6

TITLE: The Swan CHAPTER NUMBER: 6/? AUTHOR: Losille2000 WHICH Tom/CHARACTER: Actor!Tom GENRE: Romance/Drama FIC SUMMARY: Sequel to The Ugly Duckling. Astrid embarks on a two-week trip to London to serve as her sister’s maid of honor, hoping against all hope she might miraculously run into her Hawaiian mystery man. When her sister and soon-to-be brother-in-law drag her to a production of Hamlet to meet the groom’s best man, Astrid gets the shock of her life. The situation, though, is anything but perfect. RATING: M (sex, language) WARNINGS: None in this chapter. AUTHORS NOTES: So... what can I say? It's been a while. If you want the whole story, you can look through my blog or message me. I'm happy to answer. That said, it's been a good three years since I did any serious writing. My writing muscles need to build back up to what they were before. Please be kind... and let me know what you think. :D

Chapters: 1 - 2 - 3 - 4 - 5 - ALSO ON AO3!

Chapter 6 - Flying the Coop

Regret.

Astrid regretted ever stomping up those stairs to Tom’s bedroom. She regretted challenging him to make a move. She regretted letting him have his way with her. In the moment, it seemed right. Maybe if they slept together again, they’d find an incompatibility, especially now that the air of tropical mystery had dissipated and left in its place two broken flesh-and-blood people.

How wrong could she have been?

Now it was amplified, deeper, hotter, engulfing.

Only two weeks for whatever this fire was to fizzle?

It wasn’t, as the Brits say, bloody likely.

And here she was, smack dab in the position she didn’t want to be in; no matter how tangentially her current association with her mother, the family business, and Hollywood was, being connected to Tom in this way presented too many problems to even consider at this point. And fucking him—

“Astrid, are you even listening to me?”

Astrid jumped from the intrusion, letting out a slight squeak. She blinked hard and turned in her spot to look at her sister, who stood in the middle of the furnished but unoccupied flat. “Sorry?”

“Are you okay?” Tilde asked. “You’ve been spacey after the dress shop— and I’m just worried.”

“You don’t need to worry.”

“Let me worry,” she begged. “Let me be the big sister I never got to be.”

Astrid laughed ruefully. If only she could actually talk with Tilde about Tom. She wouldn’t understand, or at the very least, it could pose some very difficult situations in the coming days with the wedding right around the corner. But, Astrid guessed, Tilde meant the other elephant in the room... Astrid being the elephant, and their mother being a Class A narcissist. Because there was absolutely no way Tilde would know about what had happened at Tom’s home...

“It’s too late for that, Tilde,” Astrid said. “You know I love you. I just— there’s no changing her.”

Tilde grumbled and glided over to the couch in the living room. She dropped down on top of the cushions, barely displacing the pillow stuffing with her slight ballet-formed frame. “I should have never allowed her to do all this. I should have done it on my own, it’s not like Jim and I are so hard up. But I thought...”

Astrid held up a hand to stop her sister and sat on the couch more gingerly than Tilde, measuredly, so as not to displace any stuffing in the overstuffed couch, either. Something her mother had taught her, after all: If you’re not going to put in effort to look like a lady, you can at least act like one.

God, even that memory still hurt, down to the marrow in her bones.

“But you did.” Astrid shrugged and laid her head on the back of the couch. There, she sighed.

The sisters sat in silence for some time, listening to Duchess rooting around the flat for something to chew on. When the pug found nothing, she eventually jumped up onto the couch and snuggled into Tilde’s lap.

Astrid cleared her throat. “It’s not all Mom, either. I’m just tired from jet lag and getting everything together for the house party.”

And sleeping with the Best Man. She was pretty sure she’d read a romance novel or a hundred about this situation once. Did that make her a cliché?

“Oh, I meant to ask,” Tilde interjected. “How did that go? Tom was a total tool last night and I was worried about today.”

Astrid licked her lips subconsciously; she could still taste the sugar left by a bite of tiramisu Tom had given to her on a fork. If she concentrated hard enough, she was sure she could still taste the salt of his skin mixed in with it. She could certainly feel the tight muscle in her thigh that pulled every time she shifted, from the way he’d bent it and held it firmly in place as he’d had his way with her.

Frankly, it was a miracle they’d accomplished anything after they ended up in bed. But, she supposed, that was the weirdest part about the whole afternoon. They got out of bed, dressed without speaking and just... worked on what they needed to for the party. There was no discussion. No arguing. Tom stayed a respectable distance from her; she wasn’t sure if she had really wanted him to do it again, over and over, until they were both exhausted. They ate lunch quietly, they got everything organized and packed into his Land Rover, then Tilde showed up and they bade farewell, like it was something they did every day.

Nothing more was said about Hawaii, or a relationship, or lies, or having this end in two weeks. He seemed to be ignoring the topics all together, likely in the misguided belief that if he didn’t bring it up, then everything was fine. She ignored them because discussing WHY she refused to become a true part of his life was too painful.

Astrid pursed her lips and closed her eyes again. Isn’t that what she told him she wanted, though? To feel worshipped and then go about their lives, like nothing happened? Ignore all the elephants and enjoy the sex. No emotion, only sex. He was just following her demands, his need too great to put the brakes on their interlude in his bed.

The problem was that she did want more with him. She wanted emotion and relationships and rainbows and butterflies. When she had thought of him as some wealthy businessman she might once again bump into while visiting London, this had been possible. She had, after all, imagined a reality over the last eighteen months that included falling in love with him and living a life together.

But he wasn’t a businessman. He was an actor. He ran in circles she just couldn’t stomach anymore.

“It was fine. We finished everything and packed it all into his Land Rover for the drive up to Cliveden,” Astrid finally said. “The costume deliveries will be there when we arrive.”

“This really has gotten out of control,” Tilde said. “Part of me just wants to run to the register office and get it over with.”

Astrid shook her head violently. “You do that, and I’ll flip the fuck out. I put too much work into this.”

Tilde laughed. “Scared you, huh?”

“I’m serious, Tilde,” Astrid said, lightly smacking her sister’s thigh. Duchess popped her head up, and thinking it was an invitation for her, came over to her aunt. Astrid cuddled the dog close to her chest, breathing in her freshly bathed fur.

“She likes you,” Tilde said.

Astrid kissed Duchess’ head. “Small children and dogs, apparently.”

Tilde chuckled softly before letting out a long sigh. “I bet she would really like it if her Aunt Astrid were around more.”

“Aunt Astrid is a teacher and never has any time,” she replied directly to Duchess. Duchess reached for the hand that had stopped petting her and touched it with her paw. Her imploring buggy pug eyes asked Aunt Astrid for more.

Tilde huffed, but said nothing more for a long time. Then she cleared her throat. “How do you like the flat, anyway?”

“It’s nice,” Astrid confirmed. In fact, it was nicer than “nice.” This flat looked like one of those staged ads in a real estate magazine with lots of recessed lighting, soft gray colors, top-of-the-line furnishings and a ton of space.

“We’re trying to decide if we’ll sell it or keep it as an investment property,” Tilde replied. “It’s kind of a pain in the ass as a rental property, though.”

Astrid nodded. “You could just give it to Dad’s company to manage.”

Not that doing so was a great option, either.

If Astrid saw her mother irregularly, she saw her father even less. After their separation, he spent time in Las Vegas developing a new casino concept and then, when Astrid graduated from UNLV, moved his business operations permanently back to Sweden. Still, though, the relationship with her father was better than it was with her mother, simply by virtue that he was never around and didn’t have an opportunity to find the weaknesses in her armor like her mother. Tilde rarely spoke about either parent, but Astrid was certain their relationship was similar.

Tilde sat up and turned to look at Astrid seriously. “Or you could move into it.”

“Excuse me?” Astrid said, her heart skipping a few beats, from a sudden surge of anxiety and... something else.

“I’m serious, Astrid,” she said. “We don’t see each other enough and I want to spend time with you and make up for all those years we were apart.”

This wasn’t just some passing fancy. Astrid could see that as plain as day on Tilde’s face. Her sister was determined to convince her to move to London. But for what? She had no support system other than Tilde and James... and her career... well, that was back in Las Vegas.

Not that Las Vegas itself was the most amazing place to live and work.

“I’d never see you anyway,” Astrid argued. “You’re always rehearsing, or preparing to rehearse, or performing. And god knows James is going to be busy doing whatever.”

“Yeah, about that...” Tilde said, trailing off quietly. She picked at the dog hair on her sweater for a few seconds, then slowly looked back at Astrid. “I’m retiring at the end of this season.”

“What?!”

Tilde shrugged. “James and I want a family, and if I wait until it’s a ‘good time,’ it’ll never happen because of our schedules. And really, it’s getting harder and harder to come back from injuries and such. I just... I need a long break from being a performing ballerina. I don’t have the fire I once had, the same will to fight for every goddamn role.”

Astrid simply nodded. This was huge news. Ballet was Tilde’s life. She’d been doing it since she was a little girl, had impeccable skill and training and talent for it. The joke was that Tilde had come out of the womb in pointe shoes.

Which wasn’t that far from the truth, really. As soon as their mother could, she’d gotten Tilde into dance with the best instructors money could buy. Their mother, the failed ballerina, always lived through them. Which explained why she did not like anything about Astrid— Astrid did not have anything that would benefit her.

“Have you told Mom yet?” Astrid asked.

Tilde shook her head. “Of course not! And listen to her prattle on about how I’m a failure and she gave me so much and I’m just a terrible person? No, thank you. I’ll wait until she is permanently back in LA before I tell her.”

Even though Tilde had not yet told anyone else, it somehow eased the tension in Astrid’s shoulders knowing that Tilde would be in their mother’s crosshairs for a change. Typically, that wasn’t the case; their parents always treated Tilde like the perfect golden child. Of course, Tilde had always been one of Astrid’s fiercest allies… when she could. However, since Tilde spent most of her life in London studying at the Royal Ballet from a very early age, support and camaraderie had been scarce. Now, though? Now it felt like she and Tilde could weather the storm together.

Tilde continued, “Yeah. I’m thinking about opening up a dance studio and then after the baby thing happens, if I still have the performing bug in me, then I’ll start guesting. But I’m just so excited to start having babies.”

Stopping the smile from forming on Astrid’s lips was impossible as she registered the excitement on Tilde’s face. Astrid felt the enthusiasm coming from Tilde’s corner of the couch. “I’m excited for you, Tilde.”

And she was. She truly was.

Tilde reached out and grabbed Astrid’s hand. “I’m serious, though, Astrid. We never had a great family growing up, and I see this as an opportunity to right the wrongs of the past and create the family we should have had growing up.”

“I don’t know, Til.”

“James and I have both talked about it a lot and we both agree.”

“Tilde, even if I did move here,” Astrid began, “I don’t know the first thing about teaching in England.”

Tilde nodded. “I know. But James’ parents are retired teachers. I’m sure they’d be willing to help you make heads or tails of it.”

Astrid pursed her lips and turned to stare at the dormant fireplace sitting in front of them. Duchess, who had not moved, made happy dog purr noises as Astrid massaged the tiny velvet triangles of her ears. To be fair to Tilde, Astrid had often thought of moving to London to be nearer to her, but she never thought it would happen or that Tilde would actually need or want her here. The fact that she was wanted made emotion spring to her eyes and prick at them until they watered.

But then, there was the other issue.

The really, super, ginormous issue that came in the shape of a devastatingly handsome British man she met on vacation. If she moved to London, she’d certainly be seeing him more. No clean break at the end of two weeks like she hoped.

“And, you know,” Tilde said, “London’s arts scene is stupendous. We have the hook-up. I thought you could get back into it. You can hardly do that in Las Vegas.”

Astrid snorted. “Tilde, that part of my life is over.”

“Why? You’re amazing. I remember the video you sent of your college production of Othello. There wasn’t a dry eye in the place.”

While Tilde’s appreciation for her talent warmed Astrid’s heart, it didn’t take away the sting of her mother’s actions. Astrid couldn’t even bring herself to discuss it with Tilde when it first happened, much less in the intervening eight years since the incidents that led to her total disavowal of all things acting related. Her silence on the matter, though, had finally come home to roost. First with Tilde telling Tom she was still an actor, and Tom calling her a liar because she told him she wanted nothing to do with it. And now, with Tilde staring her down imploringly. Tilde wanted answers just as much as Tom did, except for very different reasons.

Astrid could not force her suddenly leaden tongue to move in her mouth. Tilde would just have to live with not knowing the whole story, for now. Finally, she said, “If I move to London, I’m not going to be acting.”

“Well, I guess I’ll take that,” Tilde replied. “As long as you’ll still consider moving here to be with me.”

A knock at the front door startled them all, sending Duchess barking and wheezing to the door. The door opened and James popped his head inside. “Knock knock.”

“Come in!” Tilde sang back to him, jumped from her seat, and nearly leaped over the back of the couch to get to him like he was a cold glass of lemonade on a hot day. She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him squarely. For a brief, possibly irrational, moment, Astrid was jealous of her sister and the relationship she had built with James.

Which wasn’t a great feeling to have if the plan was to spend more time with them. How could she uproot her entire life— leave her students and friends— and move halfway across the globe just to be consumed by the green-eyed monster?

“Babe,” Tilde said, “tell Astrid she needs to move to London.”

James laughed and turned to look at Astrid. “Astrid… you need to move to London.”

“Thank you!” Tilde pecked his cheek and pirouetted in place until she was facing away from him. She started walking back toward the bedroom. “Let me go get my purse and we can get going.”

When Tilde was gone, and the flat was mostly silent except for more of Duchess’ puggy wheezing as she calmed, James’ smile dropped into a stony seriousness. He stepped over to her and quietly murmured, “We would love to have you here, Astrid. But I understand if you don’t want to come. The decision has to be yours, and if you decide not to move, I will handle Tilde.”

Astrid was grateful for James’ level-headedness in the situation. In the short time she’d known the man, she found that he was a gifted reader of rooms. That was why he was so good with Tilde— a steady anchor in a turbulent sea. Clearly, he understood the anxiety twisting her stomach into knots.

She set a grateful hand on his arm and squeezed appreciatively. “Thanks, James.”

“And don’t let my association with Tom cloud your judgement,” James said.

Astrid withdrew her hand like he’d burned it. Her eyes snapped up to his, then focused outward on the rest of his features and body language. She didn’t know how he knew, but he did. Tom must have told James, despite that she asked him not to.

Unless Tom had told James last night…

“How do you...” She trailed off, turning her gaze and trying to hide her blush.

“He’s my best man for a reason. We tell each other everything,” James replied. “I had hoped that your work today would allow you some time to figure things out before more of this wedding commenced and caused a problem.”

Astrid gulped. “Does Tilde know?”

James shook his head silently.

“Good,” Astrid replied. Good for two reasons, really. The first, because it confirmed for her that the invitation to come to London wasn’t Tilde playing matchmaker. The second, because she still didn’t want anybody to know about it. “Wait… how much did he tell you?”

James stared back at her, a mischievous glint in his eyes and a slight curl at the corner of his mouth. “That would be breaking the Code.”

Her face now completely aflame, Astrid bent down and grabbed Duchess into her arms. She couldn’t even look at the man anymore without feeling embarrassed. Hopefully, it would pass quickly.

“Bad news!” Tilde called from the hallway as she came back into the room. Her thumbs moved rapidly over the screen of her iPhone. “Mother decided we needed an all hands on deck dinner tonight.”

Astrid groaned. “In addition to or replacing the one tomorrow night at Cliveden?”

“In addition to,” Tilde said. “Tom can’t make it tonight because he has the cast party, and Dad isn’t even in England yet, so that’ll be the official one. Tonight is probably just more nitpicking.”

“Do we have to?” Astrid whined.

Tilde sighed heavily and dropped her phone into her purse with agitation. “Strength in numbers, dear sister.”

Her sister's proclamation made the summons to dinner no better, but Astrid and James dutifully followed Tilde out of the flat and out to the car. The only saving grace was that Tom wouldn't be there. Astrid could focus on one problem, not two.

[nanyoky]

@essayofthoughts asked for:

"Perc'ahlia babe and also Vaxleth and Pikelan"

Mwahahaha...

Perc'ahlia:

Who’s the messiest one: I mean it depends. Cuz Percy has a place for every little thing. But when he's mid project it tends to turn into organized chaos. Vex may occasionally leave things lying around if she's tired or distracted.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: definitely Percy, but it's less uncomfortable and more "easily flustered." Like it's just something he's accepted. Vex gunna smooch. Percy gunna blush.

Who’s the funniest drunk: Percy. Cuz he has the same attitude, but he's struggling to take off his socks for bed like "what a- a- idiotic invenshuhh..... Fucking.... Stuplid..... Imma make em better... Make... Sock....better...." While Vex is equally drunk but still doing her four step skincare routine like "yes dear"

Who texts the most: probably Vex. Anything between conversational back and forth, long rambling but deep trains of thought and "LOOK AT THIS DOG I MET"

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: hmm probably Percy but only in like a "parody of himself" kinda way. Nothing but a mix of chamber orchestra and emo music. Which aren't all that bad on their own, but he is a hashtag Byronic Posh Boi and so of COURSE that's all he listens to. Vex has cool(tm) tastes in music. Even if a song or artist wasn't cool (tm) before, it becomes cool(tm) once she likes it.

Who reads the most: I mean Percy. Not that Vex doesn't read, but he big nerd.

Who’s better with kids: ooo boy that's A QUESTION for some canonical parents, huh? I'm going to say Percy, just because I feel like Vex is a parent who can get overwhelmed sometimes and not know how to handle needy kids when she's running on empty (feel like I should say this does not make a person a bad parent- just that as a kid it's hard to understand that adults get tired). Meanwhile Percy has a natural tone that suggests what he's saying is fact, so if he's too tired for high energy toddlers he's just like "sitting by the fire drinking tea is a very fun game" and the bbs just climb into his lap like "you're right being quiet and snuggly is very fun" while Vex watches like "HOW."

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Percy's a good good tinker boi

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: listen one of them invented firearms and the other has a pet bear it's a toss up.

Who cooks and who cleans up: Both are what you might call... Functional cooks. Nothing to write home about, but they get the job done. But Percy excels more at baking (structured, exacting) and Vex is better at more loosely defined things like soups and sauces. Cleaning up is a duo activity and a nice part of their evening wind down.

Vaxleth:

Who’s the messiest one: deffo Keyleth. Houston we have a hoarder. She gets emotionally attached to everything, and saves up little bits and bobs of things for crafting and home diy projects all the time.

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: probably Keyleth, but it's in like- the most Social Anxiety way possible. It's not so much that she's uncomfortable, it's that she gets worried that being snuggly or kissing will make others uncomfortable.

Who’s the funniest drunk: oh that's a hard one. Cuz we've seen them both be high quality drunks, (ie day drinking queen and "heterosexuality is fake and magic is just the fucking best????????"). I'd say Vax because I feel like he's more likely to insist he's not that drunk and doesn't need anyone to look after him, and therefore will get into more shananigans/flirt more

Who texts the most: another toughie. Probably Vax, in a similar style to Vex.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: they both have the same issue as Percy, in that their tastes are just a parody of themselves. Vax has three categories of favorite music: sad emo boy, sexy alt boy, and rebellious 90s girl. And then Keyleth is just unironically into the softest cheesiest music you've ever heard on the soundtrack to a chick flick. We're talking Jewel here, folks. Also retro oldies cuz Homeschooled Vibes. I'm going to say Vax tho, cuz he's the one who gets emotional about it, while Keyleth is just a casual listener. And he listens to more of her music than she does his. She'll send him the Live at the Troubadour recording of Kelly Clarkson's Sober and he responds back like "??? Why would you send me this??? At 10am on a Tuesday??? When I have things to do??? Now I'm crying on the bus?????" And she's just "glad you liked it! :D"

Who reads the most: probably Vax. He gets deep into reading in attempts to find less self destructive ways of getting out of his head.

Who’s better with kids: hm I'm gunna say Vax on this one because Keyleth has a tendency to try too hard with everyone and was also an only child who was forced into very structured time while growing up cuz expectations. Vax has more clear memories of actually just being a kid when the twins were with their mom, so he can relate easier. That being said they're both pretty good, as we see with that kid Simon, a scene that will HAUNT ME FOREVER.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: def keyleth. DIY queen. Vax just gets frustrated and is like "let's just buy a new one"

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: hmmm. Keyleth has A LOT of hobbies, but Vax def will do parkour, just cuz. Like he may have started back when he was still kind of a criminal, but now he doesn't have a practical excuse and he doesn't even like- record it or anything so there's no point to it. He just sees urban environments and goes "gotta jump. Gotta climb. Just gotta."

Who cooks and who cleans up: Keyleth has got prep on lock. Gardening. Hunting and trapping. Gathering. Cleaning and dressing and chopping. She's got this. It's adding fire to things where she starts having trouble. Vax picks things up from there just fine though, and covers dishes and such on the back end.

Pikelan:

Who’s the messiest one: Pike. Pike. Pike. Having a perma-home at last means she gets comfy, which means you can usually not see the bedroom floor. Scanlan is scandalized.

Who’s the one that fixes things around the house: Scanlan tries. He likes the idea of being helpful with domestic stuff and not just a goofus who's just around for the fun parts of being together. Unfortunately he's never really lived anywhere long enough to get good at household repair, and it takes him way too long to do anything. Pike is pretty handy, but gets so busy that she'll just put up with something being broken for weeks. Best case scenario is Pike shows Scanlan how to do something so the next time he can do it himself and feel accomplished and she can come home to things being fixed and give him smooches and coo over him being a handyman.

Who's the funniest drunk? Pike. "I'M TRYING TO STEALTH."

Who feels the most uncomfortable about PDA: it may shock people, but Scanlan has the same "once it's serious I get bashful" disease as Vax. Pike will absolutely give his bootie a tap in line at the grocery store and he just goes bright red. He tries to laugh it off like he's still the smarmy mess everyone knows, but she teases him endlessly about it.

Who texts the most: Scanlan is an absolute "good morning," "thinking of you," "how was your day," and "goodnight" text person before they live together. After they move in together it's just text versions of his cover songs about his love for her and dank memes.

Who has the most embarrassing taste in music: we know it's Scanlan. We've heard his cover tracks. Pike has similar cool(tm) tastes as Vex.

Who reads the most: Pike is probably someone who's always on the move, so she's more an audiobook person. But Scanlan is like fully ready for the dad life. Just loving any weekend where he does nothing but sit around in flannel pj pants reading a mystery paperback.

Who’s better with kids: It's a hard one. Scanlan second guesses himself quite a bit and worries every little thing he says or does is going to become Lasting Trauma. Pike acts more chill about it, but slowly gets more and more overwhelmed until she nearly has a nervous collapse. But their opposite styles work well together and they're able to be a pretty great team.

Who’s got the weirdest hobby: I feel like Pike is someone with a weird collection. It is either something a little spooky but cool and academic, like antique medical equipment, or something horrifyingly tacky, like a thong from every city she visits. Maybe both.

Who cooks and who cleans up: this is where Scanlan is a much quicker learner about domestic stuff. Pike is a good cook, but it's usually on the move so much she doesn't have the time for meal planning and prep. Scanlan absolutely throws himself into being a house husband and gets obsessed with cooking shows. Pike insists on helping with dishes tho.

[kiranogareru]

VIOLENT BEAUTY OF LOVE

Warning: Mention of blood, death, Hanahaki disease and probably cursing, because I curse a lot, may give you the feels

Pairing: Bakugou x reader

A/n: Tried 3rd person view for this, feedback is welcome! Also, I don't know where I'm going with this, so let's take this journey together😅

Katsuki jolted up in his bed, eyes wide and holding a wild look of horror in them!

His throat feeling like it was being ripped apart from the inside, as the burning sensation of brutal scratches from within began to restrict his airflow!

'No, not again..' he thought in realization as he started coughing

He choked and gasped, desperately trying to force some air into his aching lungs! His eyes welling up and unintentionally staining his cheeks with tears

The feeling was unbearable, the agony making him subconsciously reach for his neck with both hands, in a futile attempt to somehow soothe the pain, but alas..there was nothing that could be done

Katsuki kept his condition a secret, not wanting anyone to think he's weak. He's been dealing with this for months all on his own, fighting it day in and day out and the worst part is he doesn't even know what's wrong with him!

At first it wasn't as bad, so Katsuki brushed it off as a stupid cold, but the symptoms kept worsening and no medication seemed to work

As the all-too-familiar metallic taste rose to his mouth, Katsuki knew exactly what would happen

He pushes himself up and off the bed, planning to run to the bathroom, using the last of his strength, but as soon as he stands, his legs give out and he drops to the cold, hard floor of his dorm, knees scraping upon Impact!

Katsuki is now supporting his weight with one arm and gripping at the collar of his shirt with the other,as his coughing fit continues, until his pain spills itself on the tiled surface beneath him

Y/N was so concerned about Bakugou, he had been missing several classes, he seemed disconnected and tired during most of his training sessions these past few weeks

Losing sleep and performing anything less than perfect on the battle field, isn't like him, in fact it is so uncommon that it became an instant tell that something was wrong with the normally, fierce blonde!

Though the weirdest thing ought to be the unusual aura that radiated off of him. He was mostly calm and very quiet!

Y/N is one of the few people that Bakugou has allowed into his life, he trusts her! They're personalities are very similar and that provides Katsuki with a sense of comfort and understanding!

This lead the duo to become close friends, but without realizing friendship turned to love...the one-sided kind to be exact

Y/N had just woken up to multiple messages from Eijirou, saying how Bakugou sounds sick again

Kiri: Do you mind checking on him? If any of us go he'll feel like we're looking down on him for being sick

Fuck, Eijirou was right, Katsuki would mistake the Bakusquad's concern for pity

Y/N found herself at Katsuki's door, worried at the sounds coming from the other side

She was unsure whether she should knock or simply enter and help him, but his shaky breaths and quiet sobs convinced her to do the latter!

She cracks the door open and pushes it gently, slipping into the room

What she's met with, leaves her in shock, her mind unable to form words at the sight in front of her and her gorgeous orbs prickled with building tears!

Right there on the floor, was a barely conscious Katsuki, lying in a pool of flowers, petals and what she could only assume was his own blood!

Never before had she witnessed a thing so mesmerizing, yet so damn cruel! She didn't even know such a combination could be achieved!

It made her angry that this...this violent beauty of love was possible!

Why did such tragedy, such pain have to befall the boy she loves?

Y/N kneels next to Katsuki and cradles his exhausted form, observing her dear friend closely. His vermillion eyes glassy and puffy, tear-streaked cheeks, blood and petals smeared on his lips and chin!

The saddened, soft expression she was wearing, while gently caressing his cheek, made him wish he could dissapear! As much as he loves being in her warm embrace, he despises the fact that she is there!

Bakugou never wanted her to see him like this, so vulnerable and beaten down, so- so fucking weak! He'd rather her think of him as anything, but weak!

He hated that out of all people, she had to be the one to walk in and catch him at his lowest!

His handsome face, was tainted with pain and she fucking hated that! It made her sick to her stomach, to see someone so strong, look so distraught!

Y/N carefully rested Katsuki's head on her lap, brushing some stray, spiky locks of ash blonde hair, out of his face

She couldn't help but wonder how long he's been suffering for and who could possibly be the cause of the heartbreking disease, the one of unreturned feelings, better known as Hanahaki!

How could someone that managed to win Katsuki Bakugou's heart, throw away their chance and deny his love? It just didn't make sense to her!

Some sort of awkward tension was thick in the atmosphere of the room, as silence spread between them, but she couldn't quite pinpoint why..

"Why didn't you say anything dumbass?" She asked, with a halfhearted smile on her lips, using his nickname for her, in an attempt to lighten the mood

"I can handle it on my own, I don't need these extras thinking they can surpass me just because I'm sick" He grumbled, his voice coming out strained

"You're too stubborn for your own good, you know that?" Her question was clearly rhetorical, since both of them knew the answer

"So...who is it?" She finally questioned, voicing the thought that was stuck in her head

Katsuki gave her a strange look, one that implied he had no idea what the Hell she was talking about!

"Huh?" Was all that left his lips

"Who are you in love with?" She hesitantly asked

Bakugou quickly sat up, his back now facing her, as he suddenly started coughing once again, his breaths shallow and sharp!

She couldn't bare the scene that was unfolding in front of her very eyes! His body was a trembling mess, while he struggled to breath, flowers coated by his blood spattering from his mouth and hitting the floor, like some type of poetic murder scene!

She desperately wanted to help him, but didn't know how, or what she could possibly do!

As Katsuki started to calm down, Y/N went to get some wipes from his drawer

Both teens sat down, this time on Katsuki's bed. She cupped his face and begun to clean him up

"Whoever the fuck said I'm in love? And what does that even have to do with anything?" His voice was hoarse and his tone cold as he spoke

His words took her by surprise, since she was so shook up that she forgot she had even asked him something!

'Did he not know?' Y/N thought to herself

"I figured- because of..the flowers?" She stuttered out, her statement sounding more like a question if anything

"What about those damn flowers?" He spat in confusion, with a scowl on his face

"Katsuki..." She softly spoke, taking a hand of his in her own, her other resting on his cheek "do you not know why you're sick?"

He felt his chest tighten at the contact, but kept an unfazed facade, as he proceeded to lock eyes with her

"Don't look at me like that!" He suddenly snapped

"Like what?" She asked, perplexed as to what she did wrong

"I can see the fucking pity in your eyes!" He growled "It's just an illness! It's not like I'm fucking dying Y/N!" He angrily yanked her hand off of him and looked away

"Katsu you- you are dying..." Her voice cracked and trailed off, eyes brimming with tears, that were threatening to spill

"You have Hanahaki. Look around you, the plant in your lungs has grown so much, that you're coughing up fully grown-" Her words caught in her throat, as she pointed to the blossoms, picking one up to examine it closer, only to discover that these were her favourite flowers, even the colour was right!

"Hanahaki?" Bakugou looked heartbroken "I thought it wasn't real"

He'd heard stories about it ever since he was little, but never knew anyone who had actually experienced it! But apparently life has a funny way of teaching you things

It all made sense to him now! He already knew he was starting to fall for her, but now he also knew how Y/N felt and this only gave him two options!

He could either, suffer a little more as a lovesick puppy, until he dies, or get a surgery that will remove the problem from it's literal roots and risk losing all memory of the girl he loves and possibly the ability to love again!

As he was deep in thought, Y/N turned to him, flower in hand and with tears streaming from her eyes to match her broken smile

"It's not me..it can't be me" She mumbled out, gaze on the floor as she couldn't bring herself to face him

"Y/N it is you! I'm in love with you!" He confessed, his head resting against hers, those lively ruby orbs of his staring at the flower in her palm, while his hands cupped hers

"Please don't say that.." She sniffled, reaching into her pocket with her free hand and pulling something out "I don't want to be the one who did this to you"

She opened her fist, showing him petals of a flower he didn't recognize "I don't want to be the one who hurt you!"

'How could I have been so dense, so oblivious? Of course she loves someone else' Katsuki felt his heart shatter like a mirror, the pain returning, as he let out a sigh and pulled her into a tight embrace

He tried his hardest not to break down in tears, not to let the flowers suffocate him and allow this moment to be his last memory! Just her in his arms!

"Don't cry Y/N, I'll be alright! This is not your fault! I'll get the surgery and I'll be alright!" He rubbed the small of her back to soothe her

"But what if you forget about me? I don't want to lose you!" She cried

"I would never forget about you!" He told her sternly

"Do you promise?" She asked, like a line from some cheesy love story

"I promise, but only if you go into surgery too! I don't want you to end up in pain" He admitted

"Okay, I'll do it" Even though Bakugou tried to reassure her, she feels guilty and is willing to do this if it means he will be happy

As the days passed and the time for the surgery came around the teens went their separate ways, since their appointments were registered in different hospitals, or at least that's what Bakugou told Y/N

In reality he had simply asked principle Nezu if he could visit his parents that day for personal reasons and stayed with them

Mitsuki gave her son a whole lecture, but after he got fed up, he decided to tell her and Masaru the truth...or part of it anyway

Meanwhile Y/N was in another part of Musutafu, lying on an operating table

Two days later they were back to UA, trying to catch up on assignments. Y/N had no recollection of her prior love interest and Bakugou had no intention of telling her that he never went to the hospital!

"Yaho Katsuuu" She greeted, as he entered the kitchen. It was their turn to clean it today

"Huh?" He tilted his head to the side "Which extra are you again?" He asked playfully

Her shocked expression made him laugh "That's not funny!" She pouted "You scared me!" She said, before smacking him on the head

"It was funny to me dumbass" He said as he proceeded to wipe the table

Y/N was happy that everything seemed to have gone back to normal, she loved seeing him smile

But little did she know...

By the end of that same month, Bakugou was found dead in his dorm, which resembled a cursed garden of blood-soaked flowers! Some stems and thorns were coming out of his mouth, while others had pierced through his lifeless chest! The scene was gut wrenching!

Aizawa was the one who found him, after Y/N pointed out that he had never followed the rest of the class out of the dorms

The dorms were immediately sealed, so none of the students could see the traumatizing sight!

However Y/N had a feeling that she knew what had happened to the fiery hero-in-training and she couldn't help but blame herself for it