#anyway. that's my rant for today goodbye

[quitefair]

pssttt. hey bioware.

you're hyping us up for dreadwolf right? you want people who've dropped dragon age to pick it back up again, in anticipation for your new game right?

then. why. don't you. fucking.

remaster the first three games and release them like you did with mass effect?

[readingwriter92]

ACTUALLY HAD TO GO FOR A WALK AFTER BANANA FISH 22 I FUCKING-

[ironrea]

you’ve been conditioned to not believe..

   … a rant

so i’ve been on vacation recently, specifically to the beach, and it got me thinking about a lot of things.. so as a child, i was always running to be in the water - like constantly-  and there was so much more wonder, hotels were bigger, places seemed nicer, i didn’t worry what people thought of me based on the swimsuit i was wearing, etc. i was just so happy to be there and there was no bad thought or anxiety that took that away from me, but today, i only got in the ocean once.. yes that’s it. little me would be horrified because she was constantly begging someone to swim with her and if they said no, she would stubbornly walk in the water by herself until she got yelled at because she was too little to be by herself. i genuinely laid down the entire time today and while there’s nothing wrong with that,  it made me realize how tired i am now and how all the adults when i was a kid also didn’t want to get up… to my younger self, it used to be such an adventure and such a big thing to me, and now, here i was, literally on a beach either sleeping or on my phone… things i could just be doing in my bed. and to me that was just so sad, you know? so anyway how does this relate to shifting, you ask? it made me think about how easy it is to believe things as a child but it becomes increasingly more difficult as we grow. because as we grow older, we soon grow out of imagination and say goodbye to a hundred percent optimism. we start to believe in the confines that are pushed on to us and submit to the conditions this awful reality has given us: wake up, school/work, eat, sleep, then die… and that’s why i think so many people find it hard to believe in shifting or the fact that they can shift. this reality’s ‘laws’ and (yes) the government have shaped our minds so much so to think that that’s all there is.. or at least tried to. as a shifter myself before i found it that was always my question “that’s it? that’s all i get to expierence? really?” but then i found shifting and i latched on, much like many of you did yourself. but so many people have given up or straight up opposed it because that’s “not the way we’re supposed to live!” but genuinely why would you listen to someone like that? so honestly brainwashed and empty? i mean i feel bad for these people sometimes because they will never experience anything like this. perhaps things could come close in this reality but… actually no. i don’t think anything comes close to shifting. we get to experience going into whatever shows and films we love most, we can meet characters people that we love, celebrities people we look up too, visit ANY period in time, become anything we’ve ever wanted to, go to places on our bucket list and even places that “only exists” in books and fairytales, and so much more. but so many fucking people won’t believe in it because we’ve literally been conditioned not to. i know i sound like a conspiracist and maybe that’s because im on the floor (again) with an awful sunburn, heat headache and had the urge out of nowhere to write this into my notes app but genuinely please just do NOT let other peoples limited beliefs affect you… i have more in my head but like idk,,, just can’t put them into words right now or i just straight up forget.. so thats it. for now.

[anakinstwinklebunny]

ANAKIN SKYWALKER HEADCANONS

Author's note: this may be.. different

Anakin Skywalker who has an incredible long-term memory but an awful short-term memory. He is the type to remember something from years ago in painstaking detail—like the exact color of your dress the first time he saw you or a specific phrase you once said that made him laugh—but completely forget why he walked into a room five seconds ago.

He’d be so frustrated with himself, too:

«I can rebuild an entire podracer from memory, but I can’t remember where I put my damn lightsaber five minutes ago!»

If you would just tease him about it, his lips would twist into a pout;

“Well, at least I remembered the anniversary of our first kiss.” (Cue him smugly crossing his arms while you roll your eyes.)

Anakin Skywalker who has a diary that he writes in with a glittery gel pen;

He’d sit cross-legged on his bed in the quarters, hunched over the journal with the sparkly pen in hand, writing furiously:

«Mission Log: Obi-Wan still doesn’t get it. He says I’m reckless, but who saved his ass again today? Oh, right, me. Also, y/n smiled at me when I said goodbye, and I’m not saying it means anything, but maybe it does. Anyway, I need a new purple pen—this one’s running out of glitter ink.»

Anakin Skywalker's diary would be filled with doodles of podracers, little hearts around your name, and the occasional rant about sand;

Humming softly, he bent over the page, scrawling your name in his bold, messy handwriting. He frowned, mumbling under his breath about his uneven letters before shrugging it off. Next to your name, he started to doodle little hearts, as if each colorful heart was the show of his affection. Pink, silver, gold—he used every glittery color he had, filling the margin with love-struck decorations.

He paused, tapping the pen against his lips thoughtfully before scribbling, «You’re my favorite everything», right under your name. The ink shimmered in the dim light, catching his eye in a way that made him grin.

He felt ridiculous, like some love-struck teenager, but he didn’t care. This was for you, even if you’d never see it. A quiet, glittery tribute to the person who made the galaxy feel a little less dark.

A soft knock startled him, and his head snapped up, his heart skipping when your voice came through the door.

“Anakin? You still awake?”

Scrambling, he slapped the diary shut and stuffed it under his pillow, cheeks burning as he tried to change his expression into something casual. “Uh, yeah! Just… meditating!”

When the door slid open and you stepped in, his breath hitched. You were in your sleepwear, hair slightly tousled, and that soft smile on your face made him melt. You tilted your head, eyes narrowing playfully.

“Meditating, huh? With glitter on your fingers?”

He looked down, cursing under his breath at the sparkling pink smudge across his thumb. “Uh… yeah, it’s a new technique.”

Anakin Skywalker who has a sketchbook, where he draws A LOT of things. Podraces, you, ships, speeders, random people on the street

Anakin Skywalker who once brought you flowers after a mission;

He trudged through the Jedi Temple’s halls, boots barely making a sound on the polished floor as he fidgets with the bouquet in his hands. Well, bouquet was a generous term. It was more of a sorry-looking cluster of flowers, their once-vibrant petals now limp and pale, some barely clinging to their stems. A petal fluttered to the ground just as he took another step, and he stopped mid-step to glare at it, like he could will it back into place.

He groaned softly, running a hand through his messy curls, smearing a streak of dirt across his cheek. This had seemed like a good idea earlier. Why does everything he does fall apart before it even gets to you? His pout deepened as he plucked out the most shriveled flower, tossing it to the side with a defeated sigh.

Finally, he reached your chambers. Standing outside the door, he took a deep breath, smoothing down his tunic with his free hand and rearranging the flowers one last time. Maybe if he held them at just the right angle, you wouldn’t notice the sorry state they were in.

The door slid open, and there you were, rubbing sleep from your eyes, your expression softening the second you saw him.

“Ani?” you murmured, stepping aside to let him in.

His voice was unusually sheepish as he held out the flowers, eyes darting everywhere but your face.

“I, uh… I picked these for you. On my mission. But, um… they didn’t exactly survive the wait.”

You looked down at the wilted bouquet in his calloused hands, a few petals already scattered on the floor at his boots.

“They’re perfect,” you said softly, reaching for the flowers.

He blinked, pout fading into something almost hopeful. “You don’t have to say that. They look terrible—”

You cut him off with a kiss, lips pressing to his tenderly, hands resting on his chest. He stiffened for half a second before melting into you, his arms wrapping around your waist, the bouquet forgotten as it dangled by his side.

“You’re such a sweetheart,” you whispered against his lips, kissing him again for good measure.

He huffed, but his cheeks were pink, his free hand gently stroking your back. “I just… wanted you to know I was thinking about you. Even while I was out there. I saw them and thought you’d like them.”

“I love them,” you assured him, cradling his face in your hands, thumbs brushing over the dirt smudges on his cheek. “And I love you for bringing them to me, even if it meant walking through the Temple like this in the middle of the night.”

Anakin Skywalker who sneaked out with you to lower levels of coruscant;

As you passed by a flower stall, the vibrant colors caught his attention. He paused, eyes scanning the rows of flowers, before reaching out and plucking two purple blooms—one light lavender, the other a deep, rich violet.

“Perfect,” he murmured to himself, flashing you a smile as he walked back to you, holding the flowers gently.

“Here,” he tucked the lighter lavender flower behind your ear. Fingers lingered on your skin just for a moment, a little touch, a little enough to make your heart skip a beat. You giggled softly, cheeks flushing.

He grinned mischievously, then slid the darker flower into the breast pocket of his jacket. "For me," voice low, teasing.

You stared at him, smile widening as the warmth spread through you. “Now, that’s a perfect match,” you whispered, giggling.

“Mm-hmm,” the grin on his face stretched even wider. You could see the mischief dancing in his eyes, the way his lips curved up as if to say, «this is my favorite moment ever»

“Got it,” you said with a laugh, pressing your hands together like you were taking a picture in the air.

Anakin's face softened for a moment, and then a gleam sparkled in his eyes. “Wait, wait,” he said, holding his hands in front of him like he was about to snap a photo, just like you did. He mimicked your pose, grinning widely “Got it,” he repeated with a smirk.

Anakin Skywalker who as a young baby used to give you flowers from Jedi temple garden;

“This is for you!” he’d chirp, holding the flower up as if it were the most precious gift in the galaxy.

You’d kneel down to his level, heart melting into a puddle at how shyly he’d avert his gaze, cheeks tinged pink. “For me? It’s beautiful, Ani.”

His smile widened, bright enough to rival with the Coruscant sun. “I thought it’d look pretty on you,” he’d mumble before stepping closer, his small fingers fumbling to tuck it behind your ear.

Affection swelled in your chest as his fingers brushed against your skin, before he’d pull back to inspect his handiwork with thoughtful expression. “There,” he’d declare softly, looking utterly pleased with himself.

Your little arms would wrap tightly around his neck, voice muffled against his shoulder. “Thank you, Ani. You’re my favorite Jedi, you know that?”

“You’re my favorite everything.”

Anakin Skywalker who would eat most of your food he'd find in your chambers

Anakin Skywalker who smells like vanilla

Anakin Skywalker who loves when you stroke his back in the morning while he's still sleepy and just nuzzling to his pillow;

Soft, golden glow of the sunrise gently filtered through the curtains in your chambers , casting a gentle illumination across the side of the room. Anakin laid sprawled across the bed, body entangled in sheets. His breathing was slow and steady, tousled curls sticking to his forehead in a mix of shadows cast by the night and the faint morning light. You, propped up on one arm, tenderly stroked his back, fingertips gliding over his skin while time to time pressing gentle kisses to his bare shoulder. The sensation stirred his body slightly, and he shifted beneath your touch, acting like a contented puppy who curled up to enjoy the affection.

his words laced with a lazy, sleepy drawl. "Don’t stop," he murmured, a soft groan escaping his lips with his eyes remaining closed. With a gentle smile, you continued your gentle caresses, tracing small circles across his back, watching him shift and sigh while his muscles relaxed under your touch.

But as you took your hand away to change your position, he stirred once more, rolling onto his side to face you. His eyes were half-lidded and clouded with the remnants of sleep, a soft, pleading expression in his tone. "C'mon... more... please," his hand reaching out towards you, pulling you closer, fingers grazing along the sheets. You let out a soft chuckle, but without hesitation, drew closer to him and your hand shot out to find itself in his curls. With delicate fingers, you ran them through the soft strands, lightly massaging his scalp, causing a small hitch in his breath.

Anakin Skywalker who read tons of books, watched a lot of videos about gardening all to make you proud that he could seed tulips and make them grow

Anakin Skywalker who secretly sips on your coffee, always muttering that «sharing is caring»

Anakin Skywalker who makes «your mom» jokes

Anakin Skywalker who constantly hacks their stats in every video game he plays

Anakin Skywalker who uses the word «fuck» like a comma.

Anakin Skywalker who definitely has a roblox account and even though he's a softie, he bullies some kids there;

He logs in with the most ridiculous username, something like DarthSlayer69, and his avatar is over-the-top—dark cape, glowing red eyes, and a lightsaber accessory. He’s spent way too much time customizing it because, of course, he has to look intimidating.

And then? He enters some innocent game like Adopt Me! or Brookhaven and immediately starts causing mayhem.

"Get off my property, kid," he types in the chat, standing in front of a house he didn’t even buy.

In Tower of Hell, he’d purposely push people off platforms, then type: "Too slow. Guess you weren’t strong enough."

If anyone dared to clap back, he’d go full into fighting back; "Do you know who I am? I’ve fought in wars. You’re just a noob with bad Wi-Fi."

When you walk into the room while he’s cackling at his antics, you took one look at the screen, and roll your eyes.

"Anakin, are you bullying children again?"

"No, angel, I’m teaching them a valuable lesson." He'd say too smugly

Anakin Skywalker who uses two-in-one shampoo and conditioner yet still has the softest hair ever, which obviously makes you mad because you have to use tons of products to make your hair look decent.

Anakin Skywalker who fixes your lightsaber too often;

Anakin leaned back against the workbench, arms crossed over his chest, as he watched you sheepishly place your lightsaber in front of him. His expression was equal parts of amused and exasperated

"Again?" he drawled, raising an eyebrow.

You shrugged, avoiding his gaze as you fiddled with the hem of your tunic. "It... broke."

"It broke," he repeated, tone dripping with mock disbelief. He picked up the hilt, turning it over in his hands like inspecting some troublesome droid. "No, sweetheart, you broke it. What did you do this time? Smash it against a rock? Use it to pry open a door?"

"I didn’t!" you protested, immediately crossing your arms in self-defense. "I was fighting, and—"

"And you lost control," he finished for you, shaking his head with a chuckle. "You know, lightsabers are meant for precision. Not..." He gestured vaguely, as if mimicking you wildly flailing the weapon around.

Your face flushed at that, and you jabbed a finger at him. "Are you going to fix it or just stand there and tease me all day, Master Skywalker?"

At the sound of his full title, he grinned, as if it alone was enough to satisfy his ego. Setting the hilt down on the bench, he reached for his tools. "Oh, I’ll fix it. Like I always do. But you know..." He shot you a sly glance. Uh, oh.."If you keep this up, I’m going to start charging you."

"Charging me?" You blinked, incredulous. "With what? We don’t even use credits in the Order!"

He leaned in closer, smirk deepening. "Not credits, sweetheart. Favors." his eyes roamed down and up your body

Your stomach did a little flip "Favors?"

He nodded, picking up a small tool and starting to carefully disassemble the damaged saber. "Mm-hmm. Maybe you take over my chores for a week. Or you could cook dinner for once instead of ordering ration packs. Or..." He set the tool down and leaned in again, voice dropping to a near-whisper, eyes darting down to your lips. "You could just kiss me every time you break it."

you scoffed "That’s a ridiculous system," you muttered, but you didn’t pull away when he leaned even closer

"Is it?" he murmured, breath warm against your skin. "Seems fair to me. I put in the work, and I get a little reward."

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t stop the grin that spread across your face. "Fine," you relented, leaning in to close the distance between you. Your lips brushed against his in a soft, quick peck, and you felt him smile against you.

When you finally pulled back, he looked far too pleased with himself.

"See?" tone smug. "Much better payment than credits."

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[writerthreads]

Americanisms that annoy the crap out of me in writing

By Writerthreads

Welcome back to another post! Today is a little rant/PSA for all of you who use American English and terminology.

When I read books that are meant to portray British characters, I get so annoyed when I read jarring Americanisms. Here’s a list of them that are especially annoying (I’m sorry):

“Pants”

Pants = underwear. Every time I read something on Ao3 along the lines of “Harry spilled a cup of tea on his pants” I immediately think of him drinking said tea in his undies which is absolutely hilarious.

Somebody who can’t afford to go to the GP/hospital??

Hello, we have the NHS which is free at the point delivery!!! #rare uk w

I had to fully stop reading a fic when a British character couldn’t afford medical care and that was a whole plot-line.

As a medical student, this scenario is fully bizarre for me to comprehend. The only situation in which someone wouldn’t seem medical attention from my pov is if they don’t want to wait for hours at the A&E

Chips/crisps/fries omfg

Chips= the fatter ones you get with fish and chips

Crisps: potato chips

Fries: the thinner ones from Maccies

Cookies vs biscuits

To this day, I still don’t fully get the cookie/biscuit thing but according to my British friends who get annoyed when I mix them up, biscuits are meant to be crunchier (eg. Chocolate digestives & jammie joggers), while cookies are softer, eg. chocolate chip cookies

Biscuits covered in gravy????

What is that. That is not a thing. The UK equivalent would be a scone (sweet, eaten with jam and clotted cream or smth like that and which one goes first is a whole debacle) or a Yorkshire pudding.

Accent/slang

Different people from different areas in the UK speak differently & have different vernacular. When who’s meant to be posh speaks in roadman talk, it’s the funniest thing ever, so please do research carefully!

Takeout

Unfortunately I do say this quite a bit, but people are saying this more in the UK now imo. Takeaway is the preferred term.

Fall

“It’s fall because the leaves fall form the treeeeees” no bro it’s autumn. I grimace every time I read this in a book set in the UK.

I could care less

Ok, then care less? It’s I couldn’t care less, which makes more sense anyways.

Fanny pack

Fannies mean something else in the UK lol. It’s a bum bag, but this term is used more now maybe?

Freshman year? College? Frats? Spring break?

We have a different education system :) uni is three years usually, colleges are halls at uni or sixth form colleges

Little annoyances:

Math: It’s maths. Mathematics.

Vacation: holiday (more interchangeable now tho)

“Line up”: “QUEUE up”

On accident: by accident

Trunk/hood: boot/bonnet (I do a weird mix and say boot/hood, my bad lol)

I drive stick vs I drive manual (learnt this from my ex). Most people in the UK (and Europe) drive manual because it’s supposedly superior

Movie: film (more interchangeable now)

Principal: headmaster/mistress

There’s probably a longer list somewhere…

Thank you for bearing with me. My friends are now subject to me saying ‘trousers’ every time they say ‘pants’, I can’t help it (help I’m getting colonised)

Also look up slang (esp slang from certain parts of London, or roadman slang), they’re hilarious and I can’t help but say some of them now (I blame my friends but honestly calling a meal a scran is so funny)

Anyways goodbye

[azaharinflames]

I still don´t get what they thought they would achieve with Brad but it seems to never have crossed their minds that people would actually NOT care for the character. It is wild how much screentime he got, in a mid-season finale no less, and this public ass kissing of cast and the official account after he left is so weird. Nobody piled hate on the character or the actor they just were not interested, so why the need for this outpouring of support all of the sudden?

When the next character making eyes at either Buck or Eddie comes around and this lot decides to stay silent again we will all have our answer without a shadow of a doubt. That they hang the LI out to dry because they are scared shitless of Buddie backlash, but will jump into action for the next bit part player who just wasn´t as popular as they thought he would be.

I really started to dislike them, not gonna lie. I like Tommy, I like bucktommy but I will cheer on who ever comes next for Buck or Eddie just out of spite now. Because whoever plays them will be treated like shit by the fandom and will get no help from the mean girls clique that is the 911 production

Hi, Nonnie! Thanks for the ask. I see what you're saying, and overall I have to agree.

Here is my take. I try to play devil's advocate and give grace as much as possible. But earlier today I went on Twitter, and I saw a hate tweet (disclaimer: I've blocked hundreds of BD accounts by now, and I have blocked many, many words to not find a new one, but a BT account I follow had quoted it, so I saw it). In it, they were essentially laughing and having a party at the goodbye comments Callum had received, because that 'confirms' for them that the cast hates Lou. That they knew before, but now it's confirmed.

And the thing is... I've said it before, Lou is not a defenseless little boy. He's a grown man that, in my opinion, has a great head on his shoulders and knows very well what he's doing. And he's a busy man. So I honestly don't think he gives two craps about some losers on Twitter claiming his co-workers hate him - he knows better (he knows what happened), and he's the one with a career in acting and loving fans, so. Does he deserve the harassment? Hell, no. But I don't think he cares if some loser claims the cast hates him.

However. This behavior is only enabling hate. Not addressing the hate the LIs go through and the harassment the actors receive isn't just 'ignoring the hate so it goes away'. Ignoring that behavior and then showing support for other guest stars tells the deranged fans that they are good to go. That their bullying and hate is allowed, justified.

Is that the truth? Well, no. But it is what has happened. Because all the people being this hateful and sending harassment or death threats fully believe the show has their backs because nothing has told them otherwise.

Is it the intention of the show? No.

Is it still what they're accomplishing by their lack of response? Yes.

I don't overall dislike the cast as people because I don't know them. But the representation of themselves they're giving right now,? Not exactly a fan of that.

Also, as for Brad... I just have to laugh. They fully thought the Facebook moms would fall deep in love with him, and didn't take into account their hearts were already taken by Tommy, and that they'd be heartbroken enough for Tommy to not care for a character that doesn't have nearly the same charisma or depth.

Anyway. Thanks for letting me rant, lmao.

My inbox is always open for venting, ranting, and to discuss any topics <3

Take care!

[akairawrites]

Can u make a childhood friends to lovers Timeskip oikawa fic?🤭 Thanks!!

The gym always smelled like sweat and floor polish—familiar, a little disgusting, but comforting in its own way. That was how it felt to Y/n. Like a second home. Maybe even more of a home than her actual house.

She sat on the wooden bleachers with a half-eaten taiyaki in her hand, watching the Seijoh volleyball team wrap up their evening practice. Her eyes, as usual, were fixed on a certain setter with soft brown hair and a cocky smile that didn’t quite reach his tired eyes.

Oikawa Tooru.

To everyone else, he was the flirty captain with a bright future and fangirls for days. To Y/n, he was the boy who once showed up outside her house at 2 AM after losing a match and cried in her arms without saying a word. He was the boy who stole fries off her lunch tray without asking and sent her voice memos of terrible love songs in the middle of the night. He was her best friend.

He waved at her now, two fingers raised lazily in greeting before turning back to bark orders at Iwaizumi, who flipped him off in return. She smiled.

God, she was in trouble.

⸻

It wasn’t just the late-night calls or the little smiles he saved only for her. It was the way he listened. Really listened. Like she was the only person in the world who mattered. He made her feel seen—known. And Y/n hated that somewhere along the way, that feeling had shifted and became something deeper.

“Y/n-”

Speak of the devil.

Oikawa jogged up to her after practice, towel slung around his neck, cheeks flushed from the heat. He dropped onto the bleacher beside her with a dramatic sigh.

“I swear Iwa’s trying to kill me.”

“You probably deserve it,” she said, handing him the last bite of her taiyaki without thinking. He accepted it, grinning.

“You wound me,” he said, mouth full. “After all I do for you?”

She snorted. “Like what? Steal my food? Humble me with your eternal volleyball rants?”

“Exactly,” he said, nudging her knee with his. “You’d be bored without me.”

Maybe. But lately, being around him made her heart twist in ways she didn’t understand. Like today—he’d high-fived a girl after practice and Y/n had felt something sharp and bitter curl inside her chest. It was stupid. He wasn’t hers.

“Hey,” he said, his voice softer now. “You good?”

She blinked. “Yeah, just tired.”

He didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t push. Instead, he leaned back, gazing at the empty gym ceiling like it held answers.

“You ever think about what comes next?” he asked. “Like after high school?”

Y/n hesitated. “All the time. It’s terrifying.”

“Yeah.” His voice dropped to a rare quiet. “I wanna go pro. I have to. I can’t be average. Not with… everything I’ve worked for.”

She looked at him then, really looked. At the shadows under his eyes. The pressure he carried like a second skin.

“You’re not average, Tooru.”

His eyes flicked to hers—wide, surprised. She rarely used his first name. But she meant it.

“Thanks,” he said quietly. “You always believe in me. Even when I don’t.”

She nudged his shoulder. “That’s what best friends are for.”

Right. Best friends.

⸻

The night he left for Argentina, she didn’t go to the airport.

She couldn’t. Because if she saw him—suitcase in hand, that brave smile on his face—she might have said something she’d regret. Might have asked him to stay. Might have told him everything she’d buried under years of bad timing and silent goodbyes.

Instead, she left a note in his locker.

“I’m proud of you. Go become a star, Tooru. I’ll be cheering for you. Always.”

He never replied.

And she never asked why.

Six years was enough time to grow out of a crush.

Or so Y/n told herself.

She lived in a quiet apartment now, tucked away above a bakery that always smelled like vanilla and fresh bread. Her life was calm, neat, uncomplicated—far from the storm of adolescence, far from loud gyms and louder boys with reckless grins and soft brown eyes.

But sometimes, in the stillness, Oikawa Tooru found her anyway.

He showed up in dreams. In the way the light hit the floorboards at dusk. In the ache that bloomed when she heard someone speak Spanish under their breath in line at the market. She hadn’t seen him in years, but his name lingered like a phantom on her tongue.

And then, one ordinary Tuesday, her phone buzzed.

Oikawa Tooru:

“Hey. I’m coming back to Japan for the off-season. Want to meet up?”

Her heart stuttered.

She stared at the message for a long time—like it might vanish if she blinked. She hadn’t heard from him in over a year. Not since he posted a photo of a trophy and captioned it with a pun only she would have laughed at. Not since she’d let herself believe that maybe he was finally out of her system.

Y/n:

“Sure. When?”

⸻

They met at a small café tucked between tall buildings in the heart of Sendai. He’d picked it.

When she arrived, he was already there—sitting near the window, coffee in hand, sunglasses perched in his messy brown hair.

He stood when he saw her, and for a second, time blurred.

He looked the same. And completely different. Older, somehow. Shoulders broader. Face sharper. There was a tiredness in his eyes that hadn’t been there before—but also something gentle. Like peace. Like he wasn’t running anymore.

“Hey,” he said, smile blooming slow and familiar. “You look exactly the same.”

“You don’t,” she said, lips curving. “You look famous.”

He laughed—a real one, head thrown back—and her chest ached.

They talked. About small things first. His team. Her job. The weather in Argentina. The coffee in Japan. But under every word was something heavier. Unspoken.

Until, eventually, it cracked.

“You know,” he said, stirring his drink slowly, “I thought about you. A lot.”

Her breath caught. She looked up, trying to read him.

“I kept meaning to message,” he said, voice softer. “But I didn’t know if I had the right. I disappeared.”

“You didn’t disappear,” she said. “You chased your dream. I always knew you would.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“I missed you,” he said.

It wasn’t loud. Wasn’t dramatic. But it hit her harder than any confession ever could.

“I missed you too,” she whispered.

⸻

They walked together after, like they used to—side by side, steps in sync, the air thick with everything left unsaid.

Rain began to fall—soft, gentle. He offered her his jacket, even though she didn’t need it. She took it anyway.

“Do you ever regret it?” she asked as they turned a corner. “Leaving?”

“No,” he said. “But I regret not asking you to wait for me.”

She stopped walking.

He did too.

“I would’ve,” she said, barely audible.

His eyes searched hers—wide, uncertain, open. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

He stepped closer, carefully, like he wasn’t sure if he was allowed.

“I used to think I couldn’t afford to fall in love,” he said. “Not when I hadn’t proved myself yet. Not when I still felt like a failure inside. But I think—”

She cut him off with a small, trembling laugh. “Tooru…”

And then he said it. Quiet. True.

“I think I’ve been in love with you since the first time you made me laugh after I lost that match to Shiratorizawa.”

Her heart clenched.

“I didn’t want to ruin our friendship,” she whispered.

“Maybe it was always supposed to be more.”

⸻

They didn’t kiss.

Not yet.

But when he walked her home that night and paused at her door, he looked at her like she was the only thing he’d been chasing all this time.

Rain tapped lightly against Y/n’s window.

It had been a week since that night with Oikawa—since he walked her home, lingered at the doorstep with eyes full of regret and maybe-love, and left her with a heart too full to sleep.

They’d seen each other twice since then. Always in public. Always talking around it.

She hated it.

Not him—never him. Just this purgatory they were in, where the past and present crashed into each other but neither of them reached for the future.

Until tonight.

⸻

It was late when he called.

“Can I come over?”

She didn’t hesitate.

⸻

He showed up in a hoodie and sweats, damp hair clinging to his forehead from the rain. A memory flashed—him back in high school, complaining about Iwaizumi’s sets and stealing snacks from her bento.

But this wasn’t the same boy.

This was a man who had fought his way to the top of the world. And now he stood in her doorway looking unsure of everything but her.

“Hi,” he said.

“Hi.”

⸻

They sat on her couch for a while, wrapped in the hush of night. A candle flickered on the coffee table between them. The air smelled like rain and chamomile tea.

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Y/n murmured. “About being in love with me.”

He didn’t flinch. Just nodded slowly.

“It wasn’t a new feeling,” he admitted. “I think… I’ve been in love with you in stages. In high school, it was innocent. Quiet. Something I didn’t understand. After I left… it became loud.”

She turned toward him.

“Then why didn’t you ever tell me?”

His jaw tightened, like he’d rehearsed this answer before.

“Because if you had said no, I couldn’t have handled losing you. Not when I was already losing everything else. I needed you to stay… even if it meant staying just friends.”

Her heart cracked. “That’s not fair. You decided for both of us.”

“I know,” he whispered. “I’m sorry.”

A beat passed.

Then she said, “I loved you, too. I just didn’t know how to say it. I thought if I waited, you’d come back and feel the same.”

He reached out, gently taking her hand. His thumb traced circles on her skin—soft, reverent.

“I’m here now,” he said.

“And are you ready now?” she asked.

He met her eyes.

“Yes.”

There was no dramatic kiss. No swelling music or sudden tears.

Just a slow lean in. A breath held. A pair of lips brushing like a promise.

When their mouths met, it was soft—familiar. Like they had done this before in another lifetime and had just found their way back. He cupped her face like she might disappear. She curled her fingers into his shirt like she’d never let him go.

[whatevermakesyoubreak]

on illumi’s sexuality in my fic (a small rant)

so, i saw a post awhile ago on either here or tiktok about how much someone hated when people ship illumi with a woman (or anyone other than hisoka, aka the man who threatened in canon to sexually assault illumi’s literal younger brother— ‘blah, blah, blah he only did that because—‘ i… don’t care?? killua is… a child??? HE LITERALLY COULD’VE DONE ANYTHING ELSE TO TRIGGER ILLUMI’S BLOODLUST?? LIKE? ITS LITERALLY ILLUMI?? IS GETTING HIM TO RELEASE BLOODLUST LIKE, HARD, OR SOMETHING??? NO!) & i randomly remembered it in the shower today. now, I’m like… ok, preferences are preferences, i get that, but i also remember the sheer vitriol to any illumi x ofc writers in which that post contained, and it genuinely grossed me out. like, i really dk what’s wrong with shipping illumi with my ofc & making him a whole proudly bisexual man?? like no, he’s not, “DL,” or only with lira because he only wants her abilities— no, he’s with her because she can keep up with him & he genuinely thinks she’s fine as hell with giant tiddies!!! and… also because her mimicry ability is lowkey broken…

anyway, back to the point, like, my version of illumi is bi. he likes men and women equally— the determining factor TO HIM is their personality & wits. anyway, this is all in my OWN fic. and idk why anyone would see that as an issue??? or come after anyone else who writes illumixofc?? like… what?? i’m aware that this is very main-character syndrome of me, so maybe i should stfu. but also like, he basically has a whole relationship with hisoka on the side + in the past?? genuinely, did we forget bisexual men exist?? also, i’m aware that he’s fully, “engaged,” to hisoka in canon & i’m not invalidating that?? idk to insist people only ship one ship in particular & to be shitty to people who write anything else is very catholic church. like it’s giving puritan. it’s giving build a pyre to burn the witch. it’s giving gilead. it’s giving mayflower. it’s giving boring. anyway i’m a bi!illumi truther. and also, that man is a slut & you can read more about him being an absolute demon to his lil gf in my fic.

goodbye. 🧍‍♀️

[my-stories-vault]

Chapter 1 ~ Goodbye Series.

Pairing: Dean Winchester X Reader

Blurb: You never thought you would have a wedding day, let alone two. But when the groom is Dean Winchester, neither life nor death will be able to stop you from marrying him. The hardest part, though? Saying Goodbye . . .

Tags/Trigger Warnings (18+): MAJOR ANGST, major character death, violence, major PTSD, language. CLIFFHANGER, no accurate/cannon timelines (lol).

Note: This was written three years ago and English is my second language - I've tried to edit without losing the past-me's "authenticity", but let's face it, spellings ain't my strong suit, and even Grammerly gave up, soooo all the mistakes are mine 🙂🙃.

{ Series Masterlist ; Main Masterlist }

Chapter 1: Burning.

{November 2nd, 2023; 9.59 a.m.}

Dean didn't expect to be amused this early in the morning, especially without alcohol in his system, not today. But he should've figured the little tyke of the Winchester family would make him smile.

'This is no smiling matter, Mr Winchester,' Principal Weber said, a fairly strict woman in her late fifties.

'Well, it just seems he had it coming,' Dean said, trying not to burst out laughing when Mary ducked her head to grin; she had his grin, lil' cheeky troublemaker.

'Is this funny to you? Mr Grady broke his nose,' the Principal enunciated.

Yeah, I taught her that mean right-hook.

Dean glanced at Mary, who peeked up at him at the same time, waiting for him to get angry. But if he didn't have the energy to smile today, he definitely didn't have the energy to scold.

'She was just saving a kid from being bullied, alright?' Dean sighed.

'That's what teachers are for!' Mrs Weber waved at Ms Joslyn, who was standing next to the table.

'Ms Joslyn was on the phone!' Mary pipped up in protest before Dean could reply. 'Slater took Tyler's crayons and called him a "poppy-face"!' Her fierce eyes with the self-righteous gleam zeroed in on Dean. 'What was I supposed to do?'

'You were supposed to call the teacher,' Mrs Weber said scoldingly.

'And interrupt her phone call?' Mary deadpanned.

Ms Joslyn blushed at that, not that anyone noticed. Mrs Weber looked at Dean exasperatedly, but his lips were just itching to curve up.

'Are you going to do something about this?' prompted Mrs Weber when Dean didn't say anything.

He sighed. 'You know what? I've heard enough - I'll forward your concerns to her parents, okay?'

His sharp hunter instincts noticed how Ms Joslyn jolted at that, but he ignored her.

'Yes, please,' he could see how Mrs Weber's nostrils flared. 'If something like this happens again, we may have to suspend her.'

Dean snorted at that.

'It's not funny!'

'Sure thing,' he chuckled anyway, getting up from his chair.

He picked the four-year-old in his arms, and she hugged him tightly, looking over her shoulder at Principal Weber - much to whose shock, Mary poked her tongue out with narrowed eyes in retaliation for her half-day and the whole conversation that ensued.

Ms Josly couldn't help a smile at the behest of the slack-jawed woman.

'Alright, you little monster,' Dean said as soon as they were out of earshot - the entire exchange between Mary and Mrs Weber going unnoticed. 'Do you want some ice cream?'

'Yes!' Mary pumped her tiny fists in the air.

Mary began to rant about her day as Dean walked her to the Impala, humming in all the right places and chuckling at her exaggerated antics. He'd clipped Mary into her forward-facing booster seat when a delicate voice stopped him from rounding the car and leaving for the day.

'Mr Winchester!'

'So close,' Mary dramatically groaned.

Dean shot her a bemused look as he turned to see Ms Joslyn hurrying down to him in her moderately high heels.

'Ms Joslyn,' he said. 'Hi.'

'Hello,' she said, smiling weakly. 'I just wanted to apologise. I should've been paying more attention to my class.'

'Water under the bridge, miss!' Mary chirped. She's lowered the shotgun side window.

'Sorry,' Dean chuckled, and an astonished smile curled on Ms Joslyn's face. 'She doesn't know when to shut up.'

'Rude!' Mary huffed.

'What do you want, Ms Joslyn?' he asked.

'Oh, Nicole is fine,' she offered.

'Dean,' he replied.

'Dean,' she said. 'Uh, well, I was just wondering if—sorry I assumed earlier—you came to Mary's Parent-Teacher Meet, and I thought you were her father.'

'You jogged after us just to ask me that?' Dean raised his brows.

She blushed in embarrassment. 'I like to get to know my kids. I'm new to the profession—and I think family plays an important role in all their lives, you know?'

Dean nodded in understanding. 'I'm just the uncle. Sam, my baby brother, is her father. And you've met Eileen, I believe.'

'Yes, I have,' she smiled.

'Sam and Eileen were busy that day,' Dean explained. 'So I came instead.'

'Don't you have kids?' she wondered.

'He's single,' quipped Mary.

Dean glared at his niece, the mini wingwoman, apparently.

'Don't listen to her,' Dean sighed. 'I'm married,' he raised his hand to show his wedding band. 'Five years today, actually. My wife,' Dean gave a poignant look to Mary, 'must be waiting at home.'

Nicole glanced between the two of them where Mary was giving Dean the stink-eye. Dean compromised with an awkward secret smile.

'Anything else?'

Nicole shook her head, allowing Dean to round his car and drive off.

{November 1st, 2017; 7.06 p.m.}

Another fit of giggles erupted, filling your room with silly laughter on another one of Donna's mom jokes. She passed around the glazed sugary donuts that were putting you all through the hamper construction. 

Charlie and Claire open the door, only enough to be admitted in. You can't help the glance that strains to lay on another familiar face, one much closer to your heart.

'No peeking,' Charlie sang-song.

'Why are you trying so hard to look at him anyway?' Claire asked, putting down the last of the baskets. 'You know you are going to marry him tomorrow, right?'

'She can't help it!' Charlie teased. 'They're like Arwen and Aragorn of the real world.'

'I don't know that reference.'

Charlie's eyes widened in mock horror, and you came to her aid. 'I believe that's Lord Of The Rings.'

'If you're going to trash her, pick a fandom we've all seen,' Donna advised, downing a shot.

'Don't even think about it,' Jody suddenly said, pointing at Claire. 'Last I checked, you're still underage.'

'By two months!' she protested. 'Come on, I'm going to drink at the bar anyway!'

'Who said that?'

And they began bickering over it.

You wondered if you'd have a devil spawn of your own one day - she'd have Dean's fucking tenacity, won't she?

You grinned to yourself like an idiot at the thought. Maybe you'd let him wrangle those fights - you couldn't imagine being the stern mother, anyhow.

Whoa! Let's get married first.

Tonight was a goodbye to your single life, bidding forever goodbye to being a bachelorette. It was a night that when ended, and the day came; you'd be married to one of the most amazing men ever to prowl the Earth. And it had taken your lovable idiot no less than ten years of knowing you; he took five of those years to date you, and one to be engaged to you. It was exasperating to you how high-maintenance your man could be.

And yet he's worth it.

You engaged in one topic after another with the girls, passing time as you packed your bag for the night. You were going to crash at the hotel where your wedding was going to be hosted after partying hard like a damn animal.

The girls had all kidnapped you one day before the wedding and hijacked a bunker room where they'd imprisoned you in all day. You'd been blindfolded on your every trip the bathroom, and they'd made you shower before Dean could wake up: all this, just so you won't see the man.

You couldn't believe it, but you were actually missing him . . .

Your wedding felt like an impending thunderstorm that got your heart beating in exhilaration, about to pour down on your life, except it would take the heat away - the heat of the life that Dean called hell, even if it was only for a moment. But Dean would be your rainman forever after, putting out all the fires in your life and brimming you with happiness.

You couldn't believe it still: you were going to get married to Dean Winchester after all. The Dean Fucking Winchester. He was getting into a marriage with you. 

You hunted monsters for a living, and yet, this had seemed to be the most stressful thing in your life - you just hoped you'd be up to the mark for him.

A knock on the door pulled all of you out of the chatty mood. A grinning Sam didn't wait for a response as he entered and shut the door quickly behind him.

'Hi, ladies!'

A chorus of greetings was thrown at the younger Winchester. He tilted his head towards the door, an apologetic look on his face.

'Dean's outside. What do you say we let him see, Y/N?'

'N'uh-huh!' Charlie crossed her arms. 'We haven't been stewing in one room all day, taking friendly fires just so Dean can ruin the see-me-not rule. He can't meet her until the wedding!'

'But—!'

You were cut off by a multitude of protests that silenced you for good. You huffed, crossing your arms.

'You heard them, man,' Sam said, suppressing a laugh, enjoying this way too much.

'Come on!' the muffled, but clearly frustrated voice came from the other side of the door. 'Just for a minute! It's important!'

'Can wait till after the wedding,' Claire hollered back, smiling an identical grin that matched literally everyone's in the room.

It was infectious.

'Please?' he tried again. 'I'll take you out for ice cream!'

'We're not kids,' Claire said at the same time as the only redhead in the room said, 'Sold!'

Glares in the room turned toward Charlie who innocently shrugged. 'Who can turn down ice cream?' she reasoned.

Donna spoke up, 'No deal, Dean-o. It's the law.'

'Sheriff's orders,' Jody sniggered.

'Please?' he said again. 'I just need to talk to her. Just a couple minutes!'

'Let the man speak!' you exclaimed, throwing your hands in the air theatrically.

Jody huffed, 'Fine. But mind you, it's through the door and we're right here.'

'Or you leave the room, get out of earshot and it's through the door?' you bargained, batting your eyes prettily at your Aunt.

'I second that!' Dean supported you.

An image of him pressed up against the door to listen to everything surfaced in your head, making it impossible for you not to grin.

'Guys,' Sam interjected. 'Let's take it. Or Dean wouldn't let me live peacefully.'

'He's not kidding!' Dean added from the outside.

You giggled for no reason, an almost painful smile stretching your face. You didn't think you could ever stop smiling.

Looks were shared and your proposal was accepted. You were put behind the door so that you couldn't even sneak a look, and they all vacated the room, letting the door open only an inch so that your voices would pass through clearly. Warnings were shot at the two of you, as the footsteps receded.

'Hey,' he said softly.

'Hi,' you said, a little bit in awe of him. Did he realise how groundbreakingly awesome he was?

'How're you doing, sweetheart?'

'Definitely not missing your dorky face,' you quipped.

'I prefer stupidly handsome,' he offered. You could hear his smirk.

'Cold feet set in yet?' you asked, placing your hands on the door, wishing it were his warm, moving chest. This conversation would be so much better if you could stare in his serene green eyes.

Fuck, this wedding's making me mushy.

'A little,' Dean said, bringing you crashing back into reality.

'Wanna elaborate?'

He fidgeted with the blanket in his hand. It was the reason he'd pestered Sam with, to let him talk to you. "She cannot sleep without this" and "I swear I am not making this up. She needs this, Sam. Come on, I need to give this to her!" he had said. He had worn down Sam for a silly blanket, an excuse - something, anything to talk to you.

Maybe Sam was right when the guy said, "I smell bullshit, tons of it. Like a truckload of it", but Dean couldn't understand the gruelling pit in his stomach. If he were honest, he blanket was just a prop that Dean was using to disguise his anxiety.

'Why didn't we just elope?' Dean said, after a beat, swallowing his anxious thoughts.

Your laugh tinkled out to him, and he could hear the twinge of relief in it. 'Because we wanted to celebrate our love with our loved ones?'

'The people keeping us apart? I hate them right now,' Dean grumbled.

'I know,' you giggled, 'I think they're having a lot of fun out of our misery.'

'Let's just run away,' Dean said jokingly, even if he meant it desperately.

'We've made it this far, sweetheart,' you said. 'One more night won't kill you.'

He sighed wearily. 'Yeah. Hopefully.'

You were silent for a small pause, and he prayed you'd catch onto his tone without him having to say it outright. He prayed you'd take away his worries and put his mind to rest.

You didn't disappoint when your hand snagged out of the gap, and Dean latched onto it greedily. You laced your fingers with his and caressed his knuckles, Dean allowed himself to return the gesture.

He battled with himself because every muscle in his body screamed at him to push the door in, sweep you into his arms, and kiss you senseless. Every bone told him to fuck the rules, fuck everyone else and just take back what was his. All he could think about was abducting you and marrying you tonight in some faraway chapel where he could keep you safe.

'I'll be safe, Dean,' you said, as if reading his mind. 'The girls and I will take care of each other. And every time you think about me, remember this,' you squeeze his palm, 'even when you can't see me, I'm holding you.'

Dean's lips curved upwards. 'I don't know why my heart's tryin' to beat outta my chest,' he admitted.

'Probably trying to chase me,' you laughed.

'Probably,' he chuckled with you.

'Dean,' you said in that knowing tone you had.

It urged Dean to spill his guts like a guilty child immediately. 'It doesn't feel right, Y/N. I can't put my finger on it. But we're so close and I don't want anything to go wrong.'

'Then you probably shouldn't jinx it,' you teased, pulling his hand up - and he felt your lips pressing to his palm a couple of times reassuringly.

It soothed him some and he tried to tame his "paranoid legendary gut", as you never-endingly told him to. You didn't exactly ignore his instincts, but you eased his ruffled feathers when he was drowning under the weight of them.

You two were like two sides of the same coin, he was the pessimist of the relationship and you were an incurable fucking optimist: you two needed to be attached to make one whole.

Besides, things had a way of working out around you; you'd proven his anxiety wrong more than once. You anchored him so he didn't feel like a ghost, going through the motions of life anymore. You made him feel more than a lost, pathetic soldier - you made him feel seen: not like he was one amongst the million, but like he was one in a million.

'I think you should find comfort in the fact that I ain't leaving your ass until well after we're fucking married,' you said. 'I didn't invest a decade of my life in you so you could be let off the hook so easily, sweetheart,' you said, boastfully.

It was easier just to believe you. He took a deep steadying breath.

'I'm gonna hold you to that.'

'Do.'

Your smiles reached your eyes; Dean got the crow's feet as crinkles.

'What else?'

'Oh, uh, when you get to the hotel, don't forget your medicine. You still haven't healed from that ghoul hunt,' Dean said, changing the topic.

'Yes, sir!' you pipped up.

'And, this is the blanket you can't sleep without,' he said, feeling a little silly passing it across, but your laugh made it worth it. 

'Aw, what would I do without you, Dean?' you chuckled, finding him utterly adorable.

'Crash and burn,' Dean said reflexively. It was an inside joke with Sammy.

It was silent for a long minute where you two played with each other's fingers, dragging the time, neither of you willing to pull away. You soon realised Dean wouldn't be the first one to go.

'Have fun, sweetheart,' you told him when you felt ready. 'And not "stripper" fun, mind you!' you warned.

'Ooh, is someone jealous?'

'Nope. Just don't want the poor girl's heart to break when you have to tell her that you're taken,' you sassed.

'Can't argue with that.'

'Yeah. And before I forget! I kept an extra pie for you in the fridge.'

'Pie?' Dean's eyes light up. 'Okay, bye!'

'Forgot me so soon?' you guffawed.

'Never,' Dean tugged at your hand as if he could pull you through the door. 'But I gotta do something to get my mind off of you, woman. Unless you want to take me up on Vegas option?'

You pat his hand with your free one. 'Go knock yourself out with the dessert, Dean. Someone's gotta be strong for the two of us.'

'Fine, if you insist,' he heaved a forlorn sigh. 'You know I love you, right?'

'Love you, too.'

And just like that, he left your hand.

{November 2nd, 2017; 3.48 a.m.}

No calls. No texts. Radio silence. The boys had been calling you all for hours, but they got zilch.

'Aren't women supposed to send shitton of photos or something?!' Dean barked gruffly, eyes refusing to lift from the road.

'Maybe they left in time,' Sam tried to be the voice of reason.

But the dark thoughts were undeniable, trying to suffocate both brothers to varying degrees; Dean more so than Sam. Both the brothers in this car, along with Bobby and Castiel in the tailing car had their muscles coiled with tension.

This wasn't supposed to happen. Not on the day before a fucking wedding.

Crowley popped into the backseat, sighing. 'My demons have been alerted. No word on the female party yet.'

'Fuck!' Dean spat grittily, slamming his hand down on the steering wheel, which caused Baby's horn to blare into the deadly night air.

{November 1st, 2017; 8.21 p.m.}

You were ushered into the pub where the booming music vibrated you from head to toe and was loud enough to split your eardrums; everything from the outside was muffled enough to forget about.

After a deal between Claire and Jody, it had been agreed upon that up to three beers would be given to the young kid, Jody would have the same amount of alcohol because she was your assigned chauffeur, which left the rest of you to make no promises. Charlie had hacked you all into a club known for bad choices, and she'd secured you into the VIP section by pulling some strings. All you were missing was Eileen, who'd been pulled into an unavoidable last-minute hunt.

In the VIP area, the music dulled a bit, allowing space for conversation. You had an overview of writhing bodies on the dance floor - it was where you wished Dean to be the most so you could dirty dance with him.

After several shots with Charlie and martinis with Donna, your inhibitions lowered moderately (drinking with Dean over the years had made you a heavyweight), and you found yourself stumbling onto the dance floor with Charlie and Claire. Claire had whipped her camera out to send to the boys later. Donna and Jody decided to take a backseat while you girls took the option of getting wild.

You didn't even realise you were screaming at the top of your lungs when the songs you loved played. You danced till your lungs and legs were burned; you all danced till all the alcohol you consumed evaporated from your system, just to drink again - at least, that was your process.

When a slow song came along, Claire took it as an opportunity to rest herself and she headed back to her adoptive mother. This left Charlie to pull you closer. You had wrapped your arms around her waist as her's went around your neck.

'How's the bride-to-be doing?' she asked, yelling on the top of her lungs - she was only audible because it was a low-decibel song. Her eyebrows wiggled, and her face was flushed.

You laughed - you were doing a lot of that today - your cheeks pink, but your stamina fared better than hers.

You nodded, sighing happily. 'Feeling like I'm on the top of the world!' you screamed, crazy with ecstasy. You never wanted that feeling to end.

She grinned. 'I'm so glad you're getting married. And I may have known Dean longer, but if he ever hurts you, I swear I will kick his ass!'

You burst into a hearty laugh at her seriousness. 'I'll help ya.'

Before the moment could prolong, it was ruined. A bitch crashed into Charlie, her drinks spilling all over your best friend's dress.

And the chaos descended not much later.

{November 2nd, 2017; 3.59 a.m.}

'Call them!' Dean ordered.

'I am!' Sam replied, dialing all your numbers for the millionth time.

No one picked up.

Dean took another turn sharp turn, causing the phone to slip from Sam's hand and onto the car floor: 'Dammit, Dean!'

Dean's jaw clenched, holding back the string of curse words that would make the finest sailor blush. His head throbbed; negative, scary thoughts swirled in his mind, moving around like a hurricane slowly swallowing his sanity into the endless growing void inside of him. 

Sam retrieved his phone, somehow managing not to hit his head somewhere against the car when Dean wouldn't let up on his reckless driving.

'Maybe they are busy, you know? Maybe they just aren't seeing their phones,' Sam said, trying to remain positive.

'Fuck, Sam, I hope you're right.'

He took another turn, showing no mercy to the rubber of his car, which screeched against the asphalt. And in their sight came the pub that the boys knew you had chosen to go to.

Dean could honestly break down right there and then.

{November 1st, 2017; 9.36 p.m.}

It wasn't the biggest problem in the world. Sure, that girl was a bitch. She gagged at the close proximity you had with Charlie. She was drunk, her words slurring terribly.

You clocked the probably homophobic bitch. Charlie pulled you back before it could escalate into a scene, and all of you were thrown out. She pulled you away till that woman was out of sight. And thus, out of mind.

You forgot about her for a while. It was all awesome, again.

But that's when the chaos descended.

It was when the fire broke.

No one knows where it originated, or how it originated. But goddammit, it happened fast.

Your group's hunterly instincts kicked in. It was what kept you all calm in the eye of the storm.

Abundant screams surrounded you, signs of a soon-to-be disaster all around, the bouncers were somehow gone, probably frightened of the danger themselves. The bartenders were jumping over the bar surface.

The five of you had started emptying the club, pushing people out of harm's way - beyond the bar doors where hopefully ambulances and smoke eaters would come to your rescue. Between the alcohol and the electrical wiring, everyone had ten minutes, give or take, before this place went to shit.

Soon, you found that all the fire extinguishers were missing. And as if that alone wasn't suspicious as fuck, you found the source of the fire were the goddamn surround sound speakers; fucking technology - you had always hated that shit. You found the DJ man and pulled him away from the blazing beast, returning him to the entrance where he could merge into the panicking crowd. 

By that time, the short-circuit had happened. Your heart pounded in your ears as the lights made themselves scarce. You scrambled for your phone and turned on the torch. A thought flew through your mind; Jody, Donna, and Charlie had their phones in one purse, you had last seen it in the VIP section; Claire's phone had shattered when the first wave of scared, entitled humans had nearly taken her down in a near-stampede. So, you were the only one with a phone left. The shivering wires from the occasionally falling ceiling shot off sparks of light, terrifying you.

A voice in the back of your mind told you that the ceiling would collapse soon. A loud roar and explosion of glasses made you turn to the left. You'd been pushing people from the centre of the dance floor, contemplating your next move; the fire had finally found the rows and rows of the intoxicating liquid. The smoke doubled within seconds, as if it wasn't hard to breathe already.

Five minutes until it became dangerous, and ten more before it was absolutely inhabitable.

And you weren't the only one who had noticed.

'GET OUT!' screamed Claire, at the edge of the dance floor, on the first step that led up to the VIP area. She was shoving every person she got her hands on to push everyone towards the door. 'EVERYONE OUT!'

Once the floor was clear, you lurched to the right to tear off a part of the thick red curtains that were against the walls for decoration purposes only. You placed it over your mouth and nose, hating that your eyes were starting to water already, but with a determined mind, you tied the piece of cloth over your hair.

You rushed forward, bypassing Charlie at the door, yelling at people to come to her. You shouted at Donna, who'd successfully cleared the kitchen area: 'Don! Take Claire, and go!'

'Where's Jody?!' she asked after giving a thumbs-up to your order.

'I'll check!' you yelled, handing her three pieces of cloth for Charlie and Claire.

You found yourself climbing upstairs after you told Claire to go with Donna. Claire was reluctant, but she trusted your experience and left with the . . . adult-er adult.

God, is this really the time to debate about vocabulary?

You re-checked the whole VIP section and ticked off the back rooms from the list of pockets this huge-ass place had. But Jody wasn't to be found there.

The floor under your feet groaned. Your eyes widened for a split second, and you cursed in a true Dean Winchester fashion as you hightailed it for the stairs.

The floor was literally slipping from under your feet. Your heel fucking broke when you jumped to cross a mini chasm in your path, and you landed heavily on your elbow whereupon you proceeded to crawl to the stairs, three feet away. You did a pull up on the railing and thinking on your feet, you sat on it and slided down on the curved staircase like fucking child.

It saved you time, at least, and saved your life as you spilled gracelessly on the lower level. You yelped, curling into a ball, a sound that couldn't be heard over the rubble that crumpled to the ground with a noise that could be described as a troll's war cry.

Your shock wilted then, and you finally felt how mind-fucking this situation was. You found yourself scurrying away from the falling pieces to avoid getting hurt, losing your phone in the process. You swallowed the dryness, trying to breathe through your mouth - you blamed your sped-up dehydration, partly on the alcohol. 

Focus, you reminded yourself. Jody must be in the last place, the bathroom. Then, we can all get out of here.

You walked unevenly with the broken heel of your shoe in that direction. You heard the grunting in the men's washroom, and you slammed the door open, stronger because of your adrenaline. There Jody was, helping a widely drunk man stand straight. 

She already had a cloth around her mouth. Good.

'Jodes—'

'Check the women's stalls,' her command cut you off, almost buckling under the man's weight herself.

'Let me help—'

'I got this,' she insisted.

'Check the washroom! That's the only place left!' When she saw you were about to protest, she turned a glare on you. 'GO!'

You reluctantly bowed to her command, cursing under your breath - curses that would make Dean proud.

Oh, God, Dean. 

His face popped into your mind again. And then you weren't feeling so strong . . . again. You would have cried if you could, in his arms, allowing his fingers to thread into your hair and pull you away from this calamity. It was easy facing off with disasters when you were independent, but when you thought about what you were risking by putting yourself at risk, it made you go weak in the knees.

Dean is going to be so pissed. It made you laugh a little - a small relief it was, to think about the man you loved - and it was funnier to think about his reaction. He fucking called it.

Maybe when all was said and done, you could probably laugh at this one day. Claim, Dean-one, Y/N-zero; and he wouldn't let you live this down till the day you died. 

The rest of your married life. The first day of the rest of your happy life; the grass was indeed greener with Dean on your side of the hill. And you wanted to climb this fucking hill with Dean by your side - you wanted to be over the hill than under it. 

You burst through the doors, looking like an awkward saviour with one foot closer to the ground than the other, but the alternative was to remove your shoes and introduce your feet to the shards of glass.

'Help!' squeaked a voice immediately. 

Your gaze was drawn towards the source, a person under the sink, quivering with fear.

'Hey, is there anyone else here?' you said softly, pulling the cloth off your face for a second, crouching down to her level, giving her a friendly hand

She whimpered, her makeup steadily streaming down her face from tears. 'No. Help,' she cried again, 'I can't move!'

And it was then that you noticed the huge gash running down her thigh, visible from the slit on her dress. It wasn't a burn. Did someone do that to her?

Catching your gaze, she answered your unasked question. 'I fell,' she laughed humourlessly, 'Of all things! I tripped and fell, and what's more was I gave myself an injury by falling on a bottle of vodka. Who does that?'

You didn't say a word.

But she continued to freak out. 'I came in here to check it out in better light . . . I heard a voice, and then there was so much smoke! People were screaming! I had a panic attack!' She weakly sobbed more, 'Please help!'

Your heart clenched in pain for that woman, a panic attack sure did explain why she was wound up under the sink, weeping. 

'I will,' you promised. 'Come on!'

She pulled herself up with your help.

The haze of smoke had seemingly tripled by the time you got out. You untied the cloth around your mouth, holding your breath as you tore it into two and handed half of it to the girl.

On your way out, you check the men's room. Empty. Great. Jody must already be on her way out. Even if she needed help, you would encounter her, right?

You navigated your way back from your memory. And once out of the hallway, you could see a little better.

The smoke had already hit the ceiling, and the shit had hit the fan. You wondered if this is what the inside of the oven feels like.

You made it to the door, dodging the flames here and there. At least the last passageway was empty of smoke.

There was no one at the door, and you released a small sigh of relief. Freedom at last . . .

Your last procession was halted when a blood-curdling scream pierced your ears. Your teary eyes squinted in the general direction of the dance floor.

'You should leave! I'll be back,' you shouted.

'No,' she wailed, clinging to your neck with one arm that she'd slung around you. 'Please, please, please. I need you.'

Your patience snapped. 'Do you have a boyfriend?' you demanded.

'Wh-What?' she mumbled.

'Answer me!'

'Y-Yes.'

'Good. Me, too. And I am marrying that son of a bitch tomorrow, okay?! I need to get to him! But I can't do that until I save everyone . . . so, please. Go. You can do this. Walk out of here and let me do my job, so that I can go back to him. Walk out so that I can help whoever is stuck, back to their family as well. Okay?'

She whimpered.

'Okay!?' you repeated.

'Yes!' She let you go, testingly, then slowly limped out. 

You turned your back on her, hopefully, the last idiot to go.

With your cloth firmly against your face, you traversed through the smoke. You zigzagged around the fire, heart ready to shoot out of your mouth. Your tears were flowing down your eyes, but only because of the toxic air.

But you followed the sound of the yelling, right to the woman who was screaming for help.

And, boy, you'd never been more annoyed by a victim.

For she was the girl you punched.

She was bawling behind one of the huge pieces of rubble that had fallen after the collapse of the VIP section. You were just surprised that she hadn't passed out because of the smoke yet.

'My friend left,' she hiccuped. 'She forgot I was here,' she sobbed. 'She was right next to me, and then she left. She was my ride home, and—' she broke down sobbing. 'I don't even remember how I got here.'

In a better setting, that would've tolled alarm bells in your mind - but you had a mission: you needed to run back into Dean's arms like a fucking heroine and get married to him tomorrorw.

'Sounds like you need new friends,' you huffed. 'Come on, I'll help ya.'

'I'm sorry,' she gasped out. 'I'm so sorry for calling you a bitch.'

You almost smiled. Okay, you forgive her.

'Apologize to me when you're safe.'

She nodded her head vigorously, eager to get out of here. She leaned heavily against you, her eyes falling into a daze as soon as the thick, almost opaque, smoke hit her face. She gagged, the toxic fumes making her legs weak.

It made no sense to you how she survived for so long without a cloth around her mouth. Or maybe, she lost it, the horrifying thought occurred to you. 

Your desperate eyes scanned the area. The fire was too much, the heat too intense. You had one cloth with you. If you kept the cloth against your mouth, you couldn't simultaneously carry her unconscious self out. Plus, since in half, you couldn't even tie it around your head and hold onto her and get her out of here if she lost her bearings. There was only one choice . . . 

And the thought that you wouldn't get out—just the thought;it almost made you want to drop the girl and run for your life.

Your life - the new one that you were going to begin tomorrow. The beautiful chapel you had picked out with Dean, the awesome cake you had picked out - white fondue on the outside, Devil's fruit cake on the inside. The outstanding dance you and Dean had went to classes for. The gorgeous classic white wedding dress you had selected for the wedding - God, Dean hadn't even seen you in it yet! It had a sweetheart fucking neckline to tease Dean about, tailored just after your shared love for the nickname . . . 

This conflict lasted for about a second, but in that one second, your life flashed before your eyes. A loving and supportive childhood gone dark, becoming a hunter, finding the love of your life, falling in love with him, and hitting all the relationship milestones a couple rejoices in. Finding a second family after you lost your first one. And each day spent loving the green-eyed man. But it didn't stop there, you even let your hopes and dreams crash over you like violent waves against the rocky cliffs. You let yourself relive the dreams you had of spending your life with Dean, of growing old with him, and having kids, being a soccer mom; perhaps, hanging your gun for good.

However, just like the waves cannot break the cliff, a hope for a potential happy life with the person you loved and cared about the most was not to crush your resolve to save this woman.

And as happy and alluring your dreams were, it was just as hard crushing them. With a pain that broke you to your core, you hastily placed the cloth over your mouth against her face, before you could become selfish and change your mind.

'Breathe,' you gasped out, feeling the smoke almost choking you immediately.

She followed your demand, grasping the cloth against her mouth and clutching on it like her life depended on it, which it did. Smoke entered your body through your mouth and nose, soaking into your cells and snaking into your bloodstream instantly.

You were seriously questioning how this girl had stayed conscious for so long. You sagged against her. Her eyes widened, and you shook your head, stopping her from speaking if she was going to. You leaned in closer, yelling near her ear while you still could, your voice growing raspy, your muscles turning to lead, as a massive headache hit you like a ton of bricks.

She listened to what you had to say, learning every word during these moments of hyperawareness, and then, per your orders, she left.

Without any physical support, your knees buckled, and black spots danced in front of your eyes. A conversation with him from that evening came to the forefront.

Aw, what would I do without you, Dean?

Crash and burn, he had affirmed.

He wasn't here now. And there was a high probability for the ceiling to crash on you or for the flames to burn you or both. 

I shouldn't find this so godamn funny . . . 

You could only think about him then, and his stupid jokes. And his beautiful boyish smile, his crisp green eyes, and his protective touch taking you far away. So, it was no surprise that it was his name that left your lips before your body gave up.

{November 2nd, 2017; 4.07 a.m.}

Dean threw himself into the large crowd that had collected. Cars had jam-packed the road, shouts and pleas in the air as the masses pushed against the police barricade like a single entity. Dean left Sam long behind, making his way through the angry group of persons.

Smoke rose high into the air, caressing the sky; police sirens and fire trucks were parked on the shoulders of the road. The incoming of cars had been temporarily diverted to other routes while only the family and friends of the people who had been inside roared to get access to their loved ones. Beyond the barriers, several ambulances stood, their lights off to give some peace to the traumatized patients under their care.

When Dean reached the front, he got the full picture of the wrecked club. The fire long since put out, but the smoke continued its coil. The club had been brought down to its very stubs; there were no walls, just the formation of it now. Where this pub stood tall and proud, one of the most famous ones in the town, it was but a mess of bricks; it gave the haunted reek of fire and heartbreak now.

'Hey!' Dean called to the horde of police on the other side. 'Officer! Let me through!'

They ignored him.

'Let me through!' he screamed again, pushing against the barrier, feeling a desperation crawl over his senses.

They spared him an annoyed glare.

Luckily for the officers, they didn't have to test Dean's patience for long. Sam squeezed through to Dean's side. Being the only rational one right now, he pulled out an FBI badge and flashed it, getting their outright attention with his words. 

'FBI! Let us through!'

One of the officers pulled away from his group, pulling the barriers aside to admit Sam in. 

'He's with me,' Sam said as Dean shimmied in.

'Where are they?!' Dean demanded as if the man should be well aware of whom Dean is talking about.

Dean couldn't think straight - he just couldn't. It was as if the smoke had been filling his lungs, rendering his brain useless. It was as if, as soon as he learnt about this havoc, all his brain cells packed their bags and jumped out of his mind, committing a mass suicide to avoid dealing with his dark emotions and the "I knew it"s he berated himself with on the ride over.

'Uh,' the officer stuttered, slightly terrified of the crazy, murderous look in Dean's eyes, but a thin veil away. 

'Dean,' cautioned Sam, placing a hand on his brother's tense shoulder, a slight order to let the younger brother handle this.

Dean gulped, sidling up to the pool of survivors instead, the ones who were still there (they were very few, because it had been some time since the fire broke out) - those with minor injuries. The people he loves better be in that crowd, he practically threatened God in the safe confines of his mind.

'How did the FBI get posted here so soon? Do you think it's foul play?' questioned the young officer, no doubt a subordinate. Sam had taken the officer away from prying ears, if any.

Sam got straight to the point. 'What's the status report on the victims? How many injured? Dead?'

'Well, there was this bachelorette party—'

Sam's breath hitched.

'—who helped everyone out. Without them, we would have probably ended up with a bunch of people dead.'

Sam breathed out. 

'Oh. You got any names?'

'Uh,' the police man pulled out his notepad from his back pocket, flipping through pages of what seemed to be various victim accounts. 'Jody. Jody Mills,' the blue-uniformed man relayed. 'She said she is the Sheriff, Sioux Falls, South Dakota.'

'Right, right. So, no one was hurt?' Sam asked hopefully.

'No one died,' confirmed the officer. Although before Sam could feel his relief, the officer added, 'Yet.'

'What?' 

'There were these two girls who weren't so lucky . . . The ambulance rushed them away after we got them from under the debris. One was critical.'

His chest constricted. 

'Which hospital? Who were they?'

{November 1st, 2017; 10.52 p.m.}

Sam had selected a country bar for Dean's bachelor party. And unarguably, he felt like this was the best decision he had made in his life. You'd taken an assurance out of Sam, he'd promised you that he would distract Dean and make sure that the elder Winchester would enjoy himself, which Dean was doing plenty of here.

He kept going back to Larry, the bull, riding the mechanical beast like a pro with each turn and probably turning half the heads in the bar. Hell, Sam was impressed by his brother's resilience.

The bar wasn't bad either. Good music, the kind that would blend into the background so you could talk. Good food that you wanted to keep coming. Rounds after rounds that kept everyone friendly, and it was hilarious to watch Crowley and Castiel compete about their alcohol-retaining skills.

It was an odd group to be a part of - a demon, an angel with half his powers, a grumpy old man - but everyone had put aside their differences to be here, for you and Dean.

Sure, Rowena, Alex, Adam, Eileen and a couple more people couldn't be here today, but they had promised to be there at the wedding, or at least - they promised to be at your reception.

Sam was really happy. From tomorrow, Dean would be officially your problem and you both would move out to commence a new life. He was happy he brought Dean all the way out here to celebrate his brother's once-in-a-lifetime bachelor party. 

Everything was pretty perfect until it really wasn't.

No one had even been paying attention to it, not at first, not until the bartender whistled low, murmuring a, "Damn"; his eyes glued on the television screen, cleaning a glass robotically.

Sam knew he would have heard it had the television not been on mute. He knew he would have heard the anchor say the words flashing on the screen - for it was the name of the pub Sam knew you'd gone to.

He froze to his spot, hooked on the news, hair on end. A live footage was shown then, and if he squinted, maybe he could have seen the faces of the victims.

'Hey, Sam,' a grinning Dean clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder, jolting the younger brother back to reality. Dean was already gulping down the shot he had in his brother's hand when he noticed Sam's look.

'What's up, Sammy?'

When Sam didn't answer, Dean's eyes followed his baby brother's gaze. When his eyes read the pub's name, a familiarity struck him.

'Hey, have we been there before?' Dean inquired.

Sam's pale white look processed in Dean's head - it all clicked together. A harsh mumble left him, as realisation dawned: 'Son of a bitch!'

{November 2nd, 2017; 4.44 a.m.}

They had started driving at around eleven. Castiel had no choice but to stick his ass in Bobby's car's passenger seat for the only reason that he didn't have his wings. He was all but useless till they reached you girls.

He had enough mojo to heal anyone if they were hurt. Dean knew Cas could save all of you, if any of you were hurt. They just had to reach the hospital.

And even after numerous assurances from Sam, Dean wasn't to be calmed down. He had looked through the crowd of victims, and when he saw none of his family, he almost had a meltdown.

None of the ambulances contained the other half of the wedding party. And when Sam had found the older brother, having elicited the required information from the innocent officer, the younger man had found the shorter of the two in a corner, leaning against a tree, his body retching as he threw up the contents of his stomach. 

Usually, Dean held his own in dire situations, but the churning in his gut hadn't let up for hours, and the dread finally made him puke on the side of the road.

Sam had rubbed his brother's back in comfort, urging him to go back to the car with him. It was all very faint in Dean's mind - his life felt blurred.

Dean had fidgeted in the passenger seat the whole way to the hospital. His veins were pumping ice. He was on edge because Sam wouldn't tell him what he had found out from the police. Surely, it couldn't be worse than what was in his imagination.

The nasty voices that told him he had failed to protect you, told him it was his fucking fault. They told him that he should never have let you go. You two should have eloped when he had the chance, and no one would have been put in danger in the first place. He shouldn't have listened to you. He should have just grabbed you, and he should have married you in some low-key, off-the-grid court. He should have—

'We're here,' announced Sam. 

Dean was practically flying out of the car, running out before the car had stopped. He stormed through the hospital doors, not even bothering to close the door to Baby on his way in. Sam was in tow, throwing the keys to Bobby, who had been following the Winchesters; Bobby would appropriately park the cars while Sam and Castiel ran inside after the elder brother.

I just need to know they're okay, he reasoned with himself. He just needed to put his insecurities to rest, he just needed to confirm that one of the few people he loved the most in the world, he could keep - that he too deserved to settle down with the only woman he loved; that the Universe wouldn't be cruel enough to snatch it all from him one day before when he was about to get it all.

I don't know why my heart's tryin' to beat outta my chest.

Probably trying to chase me.

Dean had fished the directions to the ER from the nurse by the time Sam got there.

'I don't think they are in there,' Sam chided, heading back to the reception.

'What do you mean?' Dean demanded.

Sam didn't answer him. 'Where are the coma patients? From the club fire?'

Coma?! bounded in his head, Dean's eyes widening. His heart drummed against the jail of his ribcage.

The sympathetic lady smiled sadly and guided them to the topmost floor, the most secluded one.

As Sam started walking towards the lift (the fastest option; this was the biggest hospital of the town with more than twenty floors). 

'Sam,' Dean said when he could find his voicebox. 'Who's in the coma?' his voice was deathly calm.

Sam licked his lips, avoiding Dean and Castiel's eyes.

'Dean,' Sam said with his best composure. 'Y/N's was the only bachelorette party at the pub; they helped everyone out, but one of them got buried under the ceiling. Another civilian, too, the one that she was saving.'

'Who's hurt?'

Silence.

'Who's hurt, dammit?!' 

That one pulled some eyes.

Before Sam could burst out in anger, the lift doors parted and revealed a few doctors with a sombre look, a stretcher with them. They rolled it out, a body, they presumed dead, if the white sheet was anything to go by.

The doctors left, giving space for the brothers and their angelic friend to climb in. Sam had till then gathered himself, while Dean had gulped, looking at the dead person. Castiel, per usual, kept his emotions integrated, no reaction to be seen on his face except the inward tilt of his brows.

'I don't know,' Sam finally replied, tapping on the topmost floor's button in short spurts as if that would make the lift go faster.

As the door closed on the boys, comically cheerful music began playing in the background.

A/N: Sorry for the delay 🫠. Life's been kicking my ass, lol. I've recently fallen off the consistency wagon, and thought setting goals (the "unrealistic" dates I've been giving y'all), would help me get back on track 🙃 - bear with me while I make that reality. Until then, hope you enjoyed taste of this angsty cake ❤️‍🩹😘 - lemme know via like, reblog and comment!

Tag List.

@hobby27 @stoneyggirl2 @globetrotter28 @aylacavebear @emma1998sblog

@bettystonewell @jollyhunter

[lvstgojo]

my kind of crazy - satoru gojo

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: ̗̀➛ contains: satoru gojo | sfw

☁︎ summary: gojo is obsessed with you and thinks about some of the crazy moments that made him love you

₊˚ෆ warnings: none, just a sappy gojo

˚ · . word count: 718

✎ this was based off the song "my kind of crazy" by brantley gilbert. i have loved this song since i was a child. i thought he seemed so in love with the woman he was singing about.

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The sunshine had begun to sneak its way into your shared room with the strongest sorcerer in the world, Satoru Gojo. While you lay sleeping soundly, Satoru had already awakened and was staring at you, thinking about all the reasons why he loved you. He often woke up before you, but he would never leave the bed until you were awake. He didn’t like the thought of you waking up and thinking he had left. If there ever was a chance he had to leave before you woke up—he was a teacher, after all—he’d wake you to let you know he was leaving. You would drift back to sleep after he kissed you goodbye.

This morning, however, he didn’t have to leave. Satoru was a busy man, but today, he finally had the chance to relish the peace and quiet of his home with the love of his life sleeping by his side.

You were a wild one, but he loved that about you. You matched his crazy, if not surpassed it.

You’d come into the living room wearing one of his t-shirts and his blindfold, proclaiming that you were “the one and only Satoru Gojo” and “the strongest and most handsome guy to ever exist.” You’d be blocking the TV, but Satoru had long forgotten about whatever he was watching the moment you graced him with your presence. He would much rather watch you, anyway.

“Well, Satoru,” he would say, “how about when you’re done saving the world from curses, you let me get your autograph?”

You’d smile and lift up the blindfold so you could see him, complaining about not being able to see through it and not understanding how he could. He’d explain his Six Eyes Technique to you as you listened intently, and he adored how you always paid attention when he spoke.

You’d visit him at the school sometimes to sit in on his class. You weren’t a sorcerer, but he loved having you there. You got along with his students so well, and he even loved it when you mocked him and made the kids laugh. He’d pretend to be upset about his girl making fun of him, but secretly, he didn’t mind at all. It made him excited for the future, for the children you’d have together.

He hated attending meetings with the higher-ups, but he knew that once he left, he’d have messages from you, telling him about whatever you were doing or whatever was on your mind. You worried it might annoy him, having to read it all, but he looked forward to it each and every time so he encouraged you to continue. Satoru loved coming home to you after those meetings, eager to rant to you about them.

Anyone with eyes could tell how obsessed Satoru was with you, but Suguru really got to hear about it. If Suguru let him, Satoru would talk his ear off, not that it bothered him anyway. Suguru loved seeing his best friend happy. Satoru would tell him about all the crazy things you did—how the way you’d pout made him want to drop everything and give you whatever you wanted. How you never lost any disagreement, though you didn’t have many. He just thought you were too cute to stay mad with. He never wanted to be upset with you. Satoru spoiled you, and you loved every second of it.

“She’s a wild one,” he’d tell Suguru as they watched their students practice on the training field.

“She’s my kind of crazy. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

While he was thinking about you, he had pulled you back into his side and fallen asleep again. It wasn’t long before he heard your beautiful voice.

“Wake up, sleepyhead.”

When he opened his eyes, he couldn’t help but smile, wondering how he had gotten so lucky. He couldn’t believe that he got to share his life with all your crazy antics. He loved you so much that it was all worth his while.

- kasai ☁︎

[disgruntleddonnie]

haven't been posting any of my drawings recently... I've been drawing just not posting. but today I have somethin!

first is how I've been drawing recently, second was me messing around with a line-less style.

I can't pick a favorite tbh, I like them both :)

Also, god I haven't been doin so hot as of late (due to family stuff).

like how the f am I supposed to get my schoolwork done in these conditions!? 😭 /lh

I feel for my older brother tho, he's definitely getting the worst of it. Like I'm was only indirectly involved in the situation and I was stressed tf out so I can't even begin to imagine how awful it is for him 😭

anyways, I probably shouldn't rant about this outta no-where...

goodbye 👋 ^_^

[rainbowheart324]

Family curse - Chapter 21 - Rainbowheart324 - Cookie Run (Video Game) [Archive of Our Own]

His majesty had called for her early this morning; she suspected it had something to do with what had happened to the prince last night.  It was a rather horrifying thing to watch her beloved prince choking to death on his very own bodily fluids.  

She had just stood there in shock while everything went down. She had long since overcome any fear of battle but it seemed she wasn’t immune to freezing in place. She promised herself it would not happen again. If something like that happened around her once more she would take action.

Still she expected that she would be given a task today to try and make up for her failures yesterday.  It was most likely that task would be given to her now. 

That had turned out to be true in some way as it turns out the infirmary is rather more short staffed than anyone would like and as she has a relatively free schedule today he asked her to please watch over dark choco and make sure he doesn’t suffocate in his sleep.

She of course accepted. She was surprised to be given the same task she had failed at before but she will not waste the opportunity.

 She didn’t have that much planned for today anyways her life consists mostly of the wall and training and with today being a rest day from training to make sure she didn’t strain her self she was just going to read some books and she could do that perfectly fine while watching over the prince.

Honestly She was some what surprised to hear that dark choco was still in the infirmary. While she wasn’t exactly the most social of the cookies with in the citadel being the first watcher means that she has to keep her hand on the pulse of at least some of the rumor mill. Even if only to make sure it is’n geting to out of hand.

 She over heard that there had been an incident in there and the prince had been moved because of that. Maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe he just got moved to a different room and the whole thing was blown way out of proportion.

She didn’t ask his majesty for clarification on what actually happened. He has been rather stressed lately and didn’t want to add anything more on to his long and sprawling list of worries. Reminding him of what happened was sure to do so.

So as she was dismissed she gave her formal goodbye and slipped out of the room with out speaking another word. Hopefully this would turn out better than last time.

That hope was dashed as she walked in to the infirmary room housing the prince she saw a cookie she rarely got along with.  Him standing there and being in the same place as her brought a bad taste to her mouth. 

What was affogato doing here? What plan of his was he furthering by seeing the prince when he was in such a vulnerable state “ You.what are you doing here” She spits out with perhaps a bit too much venom she really really hated him. If it were any other cookie they would get the benefit of the doubt from her but not him she knows he is up to no good.

 Affogatos reply is annoyed “ I am just doing my job” the mere sound of his voice grates on her despite it technically being a smooth one. She is not will to let things just end her she wants to know the real reason.

“ really because all you seem to do is skulk around and eat sweets” It was the truth she knew he was constantly getting more sweets for his shamans but she never saw them eating what he had requested. That along with them only ever being order as one serving at a time made it clear what he was doing.

It was absolutely despicable for him to use his station like that. 

Her certainty  of that being the case was shaken by the snakes answer“Those sweets are used for the rituals damm it”  There was no way that was right she tried to cut him off to get more information.

“ wait”  , Affgato continued ranting over her attempt to speak.

“ Yes those sweets you so commonly accuse me of eating nothing but are often used as regents for the ritual”  

That actually makes some kind of sense. I mean the king hasn’t stopped affgato from what he was doing and from her perspective a lot of rituals seem like a bribe to a spirit to do something or go away. 

That is probably why he is able to request that supply order so frequently as well. Was this suppose to be common knowledge was she just being rude because of a misunderstanding

“ I.. didn’t know that”  She actually felt bad for accusing him all this time. Has she been wrong about him this whole time? 

“ I get you have a problem with the way I act from time to time but please I am devoted to doing my job well just as you are. Stop constantly saying "I am going to commit treason all the time when i am just doing my job”

This was embarrassing. If she had pressed a bit hard to try and find out why others trusted affogato could she have prevented. He is not asking for anything unreasonable at this moment either.

 Very well she could try to learn the actual reason he was doing things instead of defaulting to him be scheming tartetor to be. Wait this entire conversation started with her asking why was he here. 

Had He been trying to manipulate her.  She almost fell for it. Her eyes shapen as she readys  her self to tear apart. Wait a second she just a had a lesson on why she should give the benefit of the doubt.

Couching her voice to try and be at least a little less antagonistic “ What does being here have to do with your job” She can’t prevent doing what her instincts demand however Her eyes shapen as she readies  herself to tear apart whatever he says next should it be false.

“ If you must know I was told to gather more information for a soul retrieval ritual after the first ritual clearly has not worked as we all hoped”  Shedosn’t have much response to that she dosn’t even know what a soul retrieval ritual is. It dose sound important however.

“ Oh…”  She realizes she didn’t expect him to give her a straight answer.Her body is all wound up like a spring but there is no where for her to unleash that energy. Theres nothing for her to tear apart he was just attending to the spiritual health of the citadel as shamans are supposed to be doing.

If he is giving straight answers at the moment this might be the best time to ask“ In your option as a professional. Will the prince be okay”   He was the head shaman for a reason even if she had a distaste for him.

The answer she got was not the most comforting one.“He might get better might not. The exorcism most likely made things worst as it is trying rip something off the soul and probably did some damage. There are likely more than a few shards missing at this point. “ 

She feels he face fall as she exprentice horror at what she had just heard. That did not sound like good news at all. Was her prince going to be okay? 

“ If you were wishing to visit the prince he is currently asleep” Ah yes the prince was still sick at the moment. Still the fact that hes sleeping right now is good sleep and rest helped healing the body. She could only hope it was the same way for the soul.

“ No I was assigned to guard him” Affgato was being rather forward with her for once she would do the same in turn. 

“Ah very well in that case I am going to start getting all the things needed for rituals set up. It is probably going to take more than one attempt to find all the missing pieces.”   That did sound like it would be a large amount of work. She also wasn’t quite sure exactly how that worked.

Affgato starts to move by the door but as he passes her he slows to a stop. With a rather quite voice he said“ If you are to be the one keeping an eye on him right now do be careful. It seems like it’s quite easy break off more shards of his soul right now.”

 His low voice held a warning in it. If it had been before the conversation they just had she might have though it a threat but now she was reminded how what the healers did during the rare times some cookie kept reopening their injuries or prevented someone from resting.

She stands there a moment in stunned silence as affogato then continues walking and shuts the door behind him as he leaves.

What was that about. No matter her given task was to guard the prince from threats to his well being.  She would do this to the very best of her abbittlys.

Moving closer to the princes bedside she got addition confirmation that yes the prince was asleep at the moment.  Well then moving over to the side she was glad that there was a place to sit in the room.

She was just about to get out her book and start reading when prince dark choco started to move. And from there he starts to thrash a bit. She is across the room in second and even that is nearly to late to keep him from falling out of the bed.

The prince seemed stunned enough by that action that she is able to host him back in to a proper resting position. From his feverish slurred talking she was able to figure out that he was really hot and thirsty.

Giving him a cup of soda water was enough to soothe him back to sleep and so she sat down and started to read. It was turning out to be a really good book. 

Time passed she was starting to get hungry. It would be lunch time relatively soon. She how busy the healer and the servants working to help the healers were she decided to take the risk and ask one walking by the room if the prince would need something prepared just for him or if she could just grab him something light from the mess hall.

She learned that mess hall apparently always made some soup for cookies who where sick and would have trouble eating heavier meals and she could just grab some for the prince and that would work just fine.

Returning with food for the prince she ran in to a new problem. That being the prince was still sleeping. Rousing him for a short while to get him to eat was both easy and tought.

Easy in that waking him was a rather simple task of light shaking. Tought in that he kept falling back asleep. At least he hadn't choked on his own vomit so things where going better for him than yesterday.

Letting him go back to sleep she went back to reading her book. She expected that she would be able to talk to him today but with how much he was sleeping with him only rarely waking for a few moments to prehapes adjust something before going back to sleep that hadn’t really happened.

She was over half though her book when a cookie came by and thanked her for doing this and they had sorted out the schedule enough for someone else to keep watch. After being reflied from watching the prince she went towards the commons area. She really wanted to get at least a little socialization in today.

[sseanettles]

okay so spinning off some thoughts that came up while I was word vomiting my other arthur/lucy appreciation post was to rant a bit about van helsing and some rancid takes I saw about how the way he treated lucy on her deathbed was "creepy" with the hair brushing and stuff bc hoooooOOOO BOY

"van helsing infantilizes lucy"--okay setting aside the fact that this is a victorian novel written by a victorian man and gee water is wet, please expect some of this it's tragically a feature and not a bug, van helsing specifically infantilizes and underestimates...everyone to varying degrees???? it's a function of the plot lmao, it takes us so long to talk about vampires straight-up because he constantly looks down on others/doubts their capacity, that's not a women-talk-only problem he has. it's just a central character flaw. like. my deranged professor of a man is a master of personal and intellectual negging. everyone is "my child" and "my boy" and "my girl" and "good boy/good girl" all the time (and he calls himself an old man repeatedly). when he beckons arthur to come say goodbye to lucy he calls him "my child" and anyway now that we've established that van helsing is just like this with everyone it's just more jarring when it's a woman because we're understandably sensitized to that today....can we talk about the deathbed behavior???

van helsing brushing lucy's hair is not fuckin' creepy, jesus. tell me you've never tended to a dying person before without telling me, bc as a nurse who has tended many dying folks, tidying a patient???? giving them back their dignity???? at the end of all things???? giving them that tenderness, that act of service, for both the patient and their family???????? calling them my child, my boy, my girl????? my god, it's all one of the easiest and biggest gestures of humanity you can give someone. one of the attendings I love working with described hospice once as "we move through life in symmetry." as we near death, we become childlike again, just as we emerged into life.

to be cared for like a child is one of the greatest comforts I have seen given, time and time again. every time I hear seward say that when they entered the room to say goodbye, they found that van helsing had even brushed lucy's hair so that it lay like sunshine upon her pillow and had made her comfortable, my heart fucking aches and I start sobbing. that is not treating her like a doll. that is one of the most basic acts of compassion and decency you can do for someone departing us all forever, especially after prolonged suffering and pain and fear like she endured. treat them as a human who deserves comfort, who deserves dignity, who deserves decency. return them back to days when (if you had good parents) you always knew you were safe, you always knew you were cared for, and the world was gentle and kind and soft.

ALSO SHE IS FUCKING NINETEEN, SHE IS A FUCKING TEENAGER, THAT IS A FUCKING BABE ON THE COSMIC SCALE OF THINGS, she is nineteen, she is nineteen and her mom died on top of her and she doesn't understand what is happening to her, just that she is dying, no one can save her, they tried, they tried so hard and she is still dying, she is alone and she is dying, she is dying, she is nineteen goddamn years old and she is dying.

let someone be gentle with her. let someone brush her hair.

[hawkeyejrhuntress]

Goodbye 4 Now! Bishova Holiday Challenge!

Bishova Holiday Challenge future:

As of today, the Bishova Holiday Challenge Is over. Week 5 voting is done, and winners will be announced shortly. Week 6 voting and best writer voting will also go up shortly as well. Both polls will be run simultaneously.

 So, for the elephant in the room, last week I went on a rant because I was noticing the stories did not have a lot of the holiday part which to me is a big part of the challenge…. I mean look at the name. First and foremost, this was not geared towards any one story… I know some people assume it was, but it wasn’t. Another thing I think people thought was voter fraud. I will say when the voting numbers jumped, I did look at the stories closely to see if the stories were really being read and even reach out to the writers and ask what the stats for their stories were. And the reports I got were comments were low, but hits and kudos were high which led me to interpret that the voting was legit and no problems there.

So back to the rant why did I go off my rocker? You see when Hawkeye came out it was marketed as a winter tv series. I mean it came out November, the final episodes had a massive tree, it had the trope of Clint potentially missing Christmas with his family and so on. And yet it was still an Avengers series, kickass fights, humor, and putty arrows. Here is where many in the Bishova Community fell in love with the idea of Kate and Yelena. Two badass independent strong women who would be part of the future of the MCU.

So, when I created the challenge last year my two goals were to get more Bishova stories as well more stories that gave the same holiday feeling we got from the series. That was my goal this year as well. I am happy to say thanks to some awesome writers that the first goal was achieved, the 2nd one fell short this year. I think for me that why I went off the deep end. I was chasing a fantasy. Also, I think there was some confusion that the challenge had to include Christmas. The reason it was called Holiday challenge was I did not want just Christmas, writers could have reconned our characters to celebrate Hannukah, Kwanza or something else. The only stipulation was it was a winter holiday. It could have also been something where the characters ruin the holiday because they hate it. I think that was lost in translation. Regardless, it does not excuse my rant last week. So, I apologize to all the fabulous writers who participated. Without yall this challenge would be dead in the water like them great whites sharks that keep getting murked by killer whales.

I do not know if this challenge will be back next year. I am not sure if people even want it back after my tantrum last week which is fair. If it does come back, it will be different how I do not know, but it will be. I think I will still list some holiday prompts if the challenge is not back cause my mind is a scary place and I need an outlet. So, for next year I do not know what the future holds. Plus, I think right now since we have not seen Kate and Yelena on screen together in years the fandom is in a lull, so hopefully that changes. Anyway Happy Holidays to all, be on the lookout for the last two polls and everyone be safe. Also special thanks to the following Writers who participated….. YALL ARE THE ROCKSTARS!

CelticKitten25

Writer_At_ Heart

Chi_Raven

DoomTheShroom

19harmony

LostParkMih

Gayasawindow

Zarkosaur

pepperbrook_99

ooga_94_booga

[junoneptune06]

A controversial rant. (TW for mention of CP, Underage, Smut, etc.)

Welp, this may be the most controversial and very different Tumblr post I've ever made. So I just wanna say that recently, I became the latest hater of that one South Park ship that involves Timmy and Jimmy and that I used to love them until now. Why? Because I have 4 reasons, 4 REASONS WHY I HATE IT. The first one may be a long story tho but I'll give it a small detail to say here. around 2021, I was fooling around on Pinterest and even looking through anyone's South Park save section (the public ones to be exact). However, that's when I saw something that made me stop scrolling all the way: there's this censored CP pic of Doctor Timothy and Fastpass. (Whoever saved/created that, what in the solar system is wrong with you? go eat grass like a goat or smth.) Edit: most of their saves aren't actually nsfw but the one pic I've mentioned is, and if you're wondering why I fool around on Pinterest and even look through their saves without them knowing? That is because I wanted to find/look for any fanart that caught my eyes and I wanted to save them until I accidentally stumbled on this pic, well, regardless, I still fool around on Pinterest to find any good fanart that caught my eyes to this day, but I'll never bother seeing through the save itself ever again since that and I'll try to be careful. Second. There's this certain artist (I knew the username but I ain't gonna tell it here as well as to avoid witchhunt) that made the extremely-buff Jimmy fanarts (Well, I love PC Jimmy but he SHOULD NOT BE IN THIS WAY) but it's not just that, she happens to make the two look like they aren't disabled anymore. Oh? and how can I forget? She had once made a few Segg-ual tweets of the kids (mainly Jimmy iirc). and tbh. every time I see her. it discomforts me so I feel like I had to block her for it without causing an argument. Edit: I forgot to mention that her art style makes it even more uncanny 💀

Third. welp, same thing as the first one except, it's AO3. so around October 2023, I was fooling around in AO3 but until there's a random writer who makes a few underage smuts of Timjim, iirc, the last one they made was a Superhero/TFBW (well, it was all deleted... with the exception of the fic where Timmy was mischaracterize to be a creepo towards Jimmy. It was still up, and MAN, EVERYTIME I PASS THROUGH THAT, IT HURTS MY EYES JUST SEEING IT) thingy. another thing to ruin them for me, great job. And lastly, there's a Japanese South Park artist who I used to admire back then, but that was until they were exposed by an Instagram user that they, in fact, drew a few CP of Timmy and Jimmy in her private account on Twitter. Overall, yeah, my tone may be inconsistent, but anyway. The shippers (the problematic ones to be exact) as of today straight-up ruined them for me and made me prefer Timken or any other rarepairs that involve Timmy or Jimmy over this garbage. whoever made a cp/underage smuts of them, like I said earlier, GO EAT GRASS LIKE A GOAT AND FUCK OFF. But I really don't mind the shippers in general as long as they don't ruin it, and I won't happen to make an argument whatsoever. But if you ever felt butthurt by this post but not saying anything, I'm sorry. It's just I wanna let it all out, especially on my friend's server, here and there. and lastly... if you dare start a drama here because of it. you're an absolute asshole and so probably I am irl and you'll be blocked. Goodbye.

PS 1: I'll be deleting this post if I happen to get harassed over it. PS 2: this post will be somewhat edited over time in case there's something I forgot in my head, and even correcting mistakes. PS 3: Well, while I do still love Timmy and Jimmy with all my heart, I just hate the romantic pairing actually, I only see them as friends or in a platonic relationship.

[isanaakira]

I saw Labyrinth for the first time today and my brain chemistry has been forever infinitely changed.

I was trying to watch this god damn movie FOR FUCKING YEARS. YEARS!! School and other responsibilities always made it hard for me to watch because I knew I had to see it with no distractions, and no interruptions. And WOW. I honestly don't know how to properly continue living after seeing this masterpiece.

I loved it and was so into it and it honestly made me cry too. Like this movie affected me the same way The Neverending Story did when I watched it for the first time when I was like 7. Ive always loved reading and watching movies so seeing The Neverending Story for the first time I felt SEEN. Like I don't know how to explain how much books mean to me to other people that don't really read besides that movie. Like you just wish and want (sometimes desperately) to be a part of the worlds you watch, read, and dream and it FUCKING SUCKS that you can't. But seeing The Neverending Story and seeing him cry, laugh, and just enjoy the shit out of that book is how it feels a lot of the time for me. So seeing Labyrinth it literally gave me the same vibe. And the ending is what made me cry. Them saying goodbye to her and her saying she does need them HIT HARD. I was like ohhh yeah this shit hurts. I was like man I feel that and I've felt it several times for even things outside of reading that cause me to read sometimes.

So yeah, Labyrinth altered my brain chemistry apart from the fantastical story but for the feelings it made me feel and just... I honestly don't know. It just tickled my brain the right way.

Also side note, but like Jareth didn't really come out in the movie but when he gave her that dancing vision I was like hmmm idk how I feel bout this. I was like man, why do I low-key wanna be in that position. It reminded me of the ballroom dance scene from Van Helsing but different also (which altered my brain chemistry too. I seriously have a type, or several). Then the line I Can't live within you in his song, had me low-key kinda sad not about them but like the way he said it replicates like that feeling of longing and want for someone and even for being in a world you dream of. I know that's not what the song meant but that's what I felt in that moment. And him saying he'd give her anything she wants im like damn, biting my fist rn. Id have folded if he could promise to not hurt my brother 💀💀.

Anyways, sorry for my long ass rant. The movie was too good to not talk about. I just ahhhhh. I love it. Also if anyone hasn't seen Inkheart, I'd recommend it. It's definitely not the same style of movie, but it also has that book magic action type feel like Journey to the Center of the Earth. Saw Inkheart the other day too and I am OBSESSED.