#but anyway yeah i may not be panicking but i am never too sleepy to beat myself up for shit like that 👍 and boy am i angry now

[daz4i]

i fucked up my sleep schedule so much and i woke up too late to do what i planned to do today and i can't even properly panic about it bc i am still. too sleepy for that

[daydream-believin]

The Never-Ending Roadtrip (new beginnings)

Summary: Reader joins Douxie in the quest for Nari’s safety. He’ll need company won’t he? - Also, a talk about Merlin and grief. It’s big feelings time. (part two)

Warnings: Swearing, theres like three bad puns and at least one meme im sorry

Word Count: 2713

A/N: inspired by the fact that i recently moved states and it was the most tedious trip ever. It took the entire day. i was bored out of my mind. So i decided to write about going on a long boring roadtrip with Douxie instead. also, i have a black cat myself and i can attest that they are little domesticated demons. she didn’t like the long trip either.

“And what do you think you’re doing?” Douxie deadpanned when he saw (Name) run up to join him on the ship, perching on the edge. “Well I’m coming with you, obviously.” Douxie had known the young woman long enough to know that there would not be a point in arguing. They would just go round and round for hours before she ultimately won. She fought dirty, puppy dog eyes and all. He didn’t have time for this.

After making sure that Archie and Nari were secure, Doux turned back to (Name), “You’re absolutely sure about this decision, love? Once we take off there’s no going back. We could even be running for the rest of our lives. You really should stay with the others,” he warned.

She looked annoyed. “Yes, Doux. I am absolutely sure. I wouldn’t want you to do this alone. And besides, you’ll need me.”

He blushed for a second before realizing she meant he would need her as in extra backup and not that he needed her needed her. Trying not to show the slight disappointment that was written on his face, he chuckled and covered his cheek with his palm, “Of course.”

They set off into the early morning sky. After waving goodbye to the rest of the gang, (Name) clung to the golden railing, looking out over California in amazement. It was like she was in a movie. This was her life changing magic carpet ride. Of course, a lot about her life had seemed to be out of a movie lately. Ever since she discovered her gift for sorcery. Ever since she got mixed up in all this Arcadian mess. Ever since she met Douxie.

Surprisingly, Douxie was really talkative for the first few hours of the trip. (Name) had expected him to be a bit more closed off, considering the week they had just gone through. He was really gushy too, with his heart on his sleeve even more so than usual, and that’s saying something for Douxie. Maybe momentary death was good for unclogging heart pipes.  (Name) was loving it. Not the momentary death thing. That had almost stopped her heart. No, it was so nice to be having such lighthearted conversation with her friends. Kept her from dwelling on things. Once night got closer, though, she couldn’t help it. What could she say, the pink splattered purple sunset made her sentimental. She and Douxie had slipped into a little talk about Arcadia, about the kids, about what had happened, and about what was next for them. Despite her gushing about how happy she was to be here with him, Douxie still felt really guilty that he put her through all this. She made the mistake of telling him how much it scared her, everything that happened earlier. She made a bigger mistake telling him how she cried over his body, refusing to accept that he was gone. He wasn’t of course, but she didn’t know that.

He suddenly got quiet after that. The conversation lulled. Even Nari and Archie seemed to sense that something was off and kept quiet. After watching the stars roll by in silence for a few hours, (Name) started to feel the tug of sleep. She tried to find a cozy spot, but failed, because she was on a ship. A pretty basic little vessel. There were no seats or anything even kind of cushiony. She contemplated using Archie as a pillow, but that probably wouldn’t fly well with him. Pun intended.

Douxie was still as statue, staring out straight ahead into the clouds. Like a grizzled old sea captain. The bags under his eyes were getting worse than usual, but (Name) decided to not to say anything to him and let it be. He looked like he was enjoying the silence. She didn’t think he’d sleep tonight. How could he? She mused. (Name) herself hadn’t even begun to truly process all that had happened. She wished she knew what to say. Anything to comfort him, to let him know she’s be there. But (Name) was no use now, in her sleepy state. She might make it worse. She’d try talking to him in the morning. If he even wanted to talk.

In the end, (Name) wound up leaning against the corner, using her balled up over-shirt as a pillow. It was a bit colder now, but with Nari snuggled up in her lap and Archie stretched out over her legs, she’d be just fine. They might as well had been heaters. Doux wouldn’t join them, insisting that they needed to fly through the entire night to put as much distance between them and Arcadia as possible. He assured them that he’d wake them up if something was the matter. Of course, they were sleeping on an open deck floor. Any sort of trouble would wake them up immediately anyway, but it was a nice thought. (Name) snuggled into her makeshift pillow. She took one last look at Douxie, brooding at the helm, before slipping off to dreamland. It was a mediocre dream.

The morning sun came sooner than (Name) wanted. The cheeky bugger. There was no use trying to go back to sleep. The sun was too big and bright. so, so bright. Nari also stirred when the sun beam hit her face. She blinked blearily and let out a cute yawn. Or at least it would have been cute, had it not been directly into (Name)’s face. (Name) had to give it to Nari though, her morning breath actually didn’t smell bad. It was earthy, floral even. Damn nature spirits. Despite (Name) and Nari being awake, the sun’s rays seemed to have little to no effect on Archie. He could sleep through anything, on anything, at any time. Damn cats.

Douxie looked like the dead. His raven hair was a mess, lips chapped from the wind. Those eyebags had somehow gotten even worse. Douxie gave Tim Burton characters a run for their money. (Name) decided it might be better to wait until she was a bit more awake and articulate to try and talk to him more about… the, ah, events from yesterday. Yet, she was fully aware that if she kept procrastinating, the conversation was just going to get worse and worse. But the timing’s not right. Yes, the timing’s just not right. The stars, they’re not in position. In fact it might be easier if she got him to take a nap first. Yeah, no need to cause sleep deprived Douxie to have an unnecessary breakdown.

It took some convincing, but (Name) finally got him to agree to let her take the helm and get that well deserved rest. Not that Douxie thought he deserved it. He wasn’t too happy about leaving (Name) and Nari alone, figuratively, while he was unconscious and unable to protect them. He wasn’t too happy about a lot of things, really. He especially didn’t care to be alone with his subconscious. But with the worried look (Name) gave him, he couldn’t help but comply with her demands. Her and her bloody puppy dog eyes.

He woke up to the sound of (Name)’s singing. She probably hadn’t meant to wake him up, with her soft voice hushed, but nonetheless he was awake. Douxie was a light sleeper. He had to be, after all his troublesome years. She was singing a sweet little love song. He felt a drumming in his chest as he listened. Speaking of his chest, there seemed to be a bit of pressure on it. A familiar pressure. It started to purr, sending the comforting vibrations through his ribcage. He gave Arch a good scritch behind the ears before sitting up.

“Your voice is so lovely, you know. I cannot imagine why you’re always hiding it.”

Name startled. “Did I wake you?” she asked, concerned since he hadn’t been out but for a few hours.

“Yes, you had,” He began gently, “But, I’m glad.”

“You’re glad?”

“Of course, I got to hear that beautiful singing voice of yours. Quite the rarity, innit?”

(Name) flushed. She wasn’t sure if she was flattered by his compliments or embarrassed that he had caught her singing once again. Still, she tried to refute his words but all that came out was a flustered sputter. Thankfully, Nari came to the rescue. Unintentionally, but a rescue all the same.

“Hisirdoux, now that you are awake, may I ask where it is that we are going?” the small goddess asked.

“Oh, uh, about that,” Doux wrapped his arms behind his back and sucked some air through his teeth, “I actually didn’t have a set place in mind. I think we’ll just wing it. On our winged boat.”

(Name) whipped her head towards him so fast she’d get whiplash. She didn’t even acknowledge the terrible joke. “I’m terribly sorry, but you what.”

“I just thought we’d head northeast for now. Once we run out of land, we’ll pick a new direction. It’s not like we’d be able to stay too long in a place, after all. It’s safer to be constantly moving.” He tried not to sound to unsure in this rambling. He did have a plan, just not one that looked too solid on a piece of paper. It’ll be fine. They’ll be fine.

“I- okay.” She didn’t sound too panicked, which Douxie counted as a win. Still, he didn’t want her to be too stressed about the uncertainties. He figured he might as well just pick a place to ease her fears a bit. She couldn’t worry herself raw, that was his job.

“How about New York City? That can be our first official destination on the Never-Ending Roadtrip.”

“Yeah, yeah okay. New York City, that sounds nice.” Victory.

***

“Ugh, we’ve been flying over basically the same damn thing forever! Can’t this thing go any faster?” (Name) whined as she leaned over the edge like a wilted flower. Her wind-mussed hair hung over her face. It took everything in Douxie not to flinch whenever she got to close to where she might fall out. Sure, she would most likely be able to break her fall with magic, not coming out with too many scratches, but it still scared him just the same. (Name) was gonna give him a heart attack one of these days.

“It’s a fucking magical flying boat, (Name). It goes eighty miles per hour tops. Do you know how advanced that was in the twelfth century? It was a fucking miracle of technology, (Name). It’s not the boat’s fault we’re currently travelling through Kansas.” Doux huffed. He quickly felt guilty for snapping at her and apologized. He felt a bit on edge lately. Their conversation last night kind of freaked him out. He wanted to be a little more protective of her now since she told him about how scared she was, but snapping at her would just accomplish the opposite of getting across how much he cared.

Name sighed. Looking around the ship, she noticed that Nari and Archie were just napping in the sun, completely unbothered by her and Douxie’s loud outbursts. She looked back out into the seemingly infinite grass field again.

“Well, I guess now is a pretty good time,” She said cryptically, “Hisirdoux, we need to talk.”

It was like she just injected ice water into his veins. He didn’t like her tone, plus, those words were never proceeded by something good. Never. “To talk?” he asked with a nervous tinge in his voice, hoping if she elaborated it wouldn’t be as bad as the conclusions he was jumping to.

“Yeah. Talk. About your feelings.” Well now he was panicking. She said that so solemnly. How did she know? Fuzzbuckets, she was about to reject him, on this boat they were stuck on, in the middle of Kansas. Rip out his heart and throw it into the grassy void.

“To talk, about my feelings?” he repeated her again, incredulously. He put on his best fake smile.

“Yes, Doux.” She sat down on the railing near him and crossed her legs. “I just- I think it’s time we had a proper conversation about stuff. Like say, I don’t know, how you’re handling your grief over a certain mentor.”

Douxie quickly let go of the breath, he wasn’t sure when he started holding, in a loud sigh of relief. Oh thank Merlin, he thought this was going to be bad. That’s what she wanted to talk about? Okay, not the problem he was expecting, but one he could deal with. He’s already had a couple of good cries. He spent most of last night mulling over not just Merlin but the whole concept of death. He could talk about the weight of grief hanging over his heart, no big deal.

“I believe I am handling it well, thank you for your concern, Love.” He tried to sound nonchalant.

“Hisirdoux Casperan, you stared out into the distance with unblinking glassy eyes for hours last night and barely spoke to any of us. Hell, you fucking died yesterday, Doux. Don’t think I’ve forgotten about that. You’re not fine. And you’re not weaseling your way out of this conversation either.” She said sternly. They entered an unspoken staring contest.

“Alright, Love, fine. I am fine. Okay?” She quirked her brow. “I am, truly. I’m at peace. He lived a good life and I’ll continue his legacy with honour. Of course I’m still sad about it, but I’ve got other things to focus on right now. Sure, my chest is still heavy, but it’s not crushing like it was when the wound was fresh,” he rubbed the back of his neck, “And I did get my last goodbye talk with him when I was dead,” He chuckled to try and lighten that last bit up, but name still winced at his words.

“Douxie, I just- I know what it’s like, ya know. To suddenly no longer have that father figure in your life. Someone you looked up to for so long. It’s hard Doux, I get that.” She sympathized. She tipped her head down towards the deck floor.

“Well, in a way, he’s already been gone for about, say, nine centuries. I’ve had my time away from him, so I know that I can do it. It’s the knowing that now he’s gone gone that’s the real kicker.” He glanced across the boat over to the sleeping pile of fur and greenery. Nari was curled up into a ball while Archie mirrored the same, but on top of her. They were like a couple of stacked buns. Douxie smiled at the sight. “And yet, do you know what makes it all feel better?” Name looked back up at him and furrowed her brows.

“You. And Archie. And Zoe. And Claire. And my bandmates and my coworkers and the rest of the Arcadia gang. I’ve got plenty of people in the world now. I know I’ve got all kinds of love.”  He hung his arm over her shoulders. He had made up his mind, he was going to open his heart to her soon. Almost dying really puts one’s priorities in view. “Recently, a great man, well, a great dragon, told me that family is not just who you have, it’s also who you’re with. If one thing I’ve learned in this nightmare week, it’s that you’ve got to enjoy people while you can. Because once they’re gone, they’re gone. You can’t dwell on past love, you’ve got to soak in the love you’ve got now, or you’ll miss it.”

“I guess I understand that.” (Name) said softly. She took in his words. Focus on the now love, huh. She could use to do that too. She felt his hand move from her shoulder to the small of her back.

“Oh hey look at that, we’re coming up on Missouri. How about we stop for brunch, Love?”

“Oh I’m starving,” Archie butt into the conversation and flew over to rest on (Name)’s shoulder. He did one of those black cat yawns where they turn their entire faces inside out and they become nothing more than a black hole with teeth, “I could really go for a bagel with extra lox right now.”

[doomstypewriter]

16 , chapter 2

I finished it!!! 

Remember when I said I would upload the epilogue next week? What a lie that was! To be honest, I was definitely planning on it, but then I didn’t. I am glad to inform that, finally, the inspiration hit and I can proudly announce this fic is complete!  

(If you see this, please consider reblogging it, if you like it, that is. Tumblr keeps on not displaying my posts on the tags. Thanks!)

Chapter 1   

AO3

Summary:

After a run through sixteen years of grief, Lan Wangji lays next to his husband during a cold morning. Everything is fine and will continue to be. 

Word count: 1471

TW:  Nightmares, past trauma, grief, very mild angst (if you find anything else tell me and I'll list it as well).

Waking up

Waking seems to turn into a reminder of what he had lost. A cycle, haunted by a memory of aching loneliness. At the same time, being awake comes as proof that he would not be welcomed to an empty room after the usual nightmare. 

Not when each morning was blessed by the comforting warmth of Wei Ying’s body, as always, hiding from the early sun rays against Lan Wangji’s own body. This was now the usual. 

The wonder in saying that! 

There is no nightmare that isn’t vanquished by his presence. 

He no longer needs to imagine life without him, as he pretends to live day after day. 

“Lan Zhaaan” he complained, “quit moving. We’re asleep. It’s not even five yet”. 

Actually, it was a few minutes past five. 

But, a couple of minutes, even hours, were a little concession when he got to stay there in turn, as if nothing could change. It probably would. Lately, he allowed himself to believe that for the better. 

Lan Wangji yielded into untangling Wei Ying’s hair, he couldn’t help the smallest grin from appearing, these were the kind of things he had to resign himself to now. In his arms, Wei Ying sighed content, snuggling against him. He breathed in deep. 

“Sandalwood. How are we supposed to get up now? It really is your fault, you shouldn’t smell so good. Sandalwood makes me sleepy” Wei Wuxian muttered. 

“Poor excuse”. 

Wei Ying laughed silently after hearing that. 

“Well, one of us has to be in charge of finding excuses. If I didn’t do it, how could you enjoy your husband as well as you do, Hanguang-Jun? Besides, five isn’t a reasonable time to be anywhere, except asleep with me. I don’t deserve getting cold while they have you going all over the place, less now that your brother has retaken on his duties as Sect Leader. What sort of mess could happen in the Cloud Recesses at five in the morning? Not even I would wake up just to stir up trouble, and fierce corpses may not sleep, but even they must have enough common sense to not do anything until after eleven”. 

“I thought you wanted to sleep”. 

“Oh, I believe I’m practically already sleeping, how could you know? I’m sure that if I tried I could sleep talk in such a way that I would seem awake”. 

“Hmm”. 

“Will you stay with me? It would truly be depressing if I spoke alone in my sleep”. 

Exasperating as Wei Ying could be, he made it hard to say no, if only because of how little Lan Wangji could do not to adore him. 

“I don’t need you to. I will stay” he responded, far too willing to give in.

He could feel Wei Ying smiling against his skin. Turning his head in that lazy manner of his, he kissed the base of Wangji’s neck. 

“Lan Zhan, you’re adorable! I’ve only given you one kiss and you’re already getting goosebumps” he made a long pause, trying to keep himself as awake as he needed to finish showing his mental process. “I’m not giving you any more now, if I did I don’t believe you’d manage to get a wink… don’t sulk, if you nap now I’ll wake you up with as many as you like…”

“Hmm”.

“It’s so early…”

Lan Wangji leaned in to give him a kiss on the top of his head, as if to say ‘you can fully fall asleep, I’m not leaving’. 

Wei Wuxian’s breathing calmed down until it settled in the habitual rhythm that he associated with deep and peaceful sleep. It was long past five. His inner clock told him that soon it will be six, and, in spite of that, he couldn’t care less. He had asked him to stay. 

The morning chill filtered through every nook and crevice of the Jingshi, even more as the winter approached. Hidden beneath the quilts, it seemed as if they had built a small place in the world for such a paradise. Those were the simple pleasures in which Lan Wangji felt the echo of a twinge of pain. During dead moments like this one, once upon a time, he had convinced himself that the passage of time, with neither pain nor glory, would be all the future had planned for him. 

Yet, now. 

 He had spent countless mornings giving in to the demands of his husband to laze around for a few more hours, enough to memorise the meaning of each pause in his slumbering breath. It flabbergasted him to such a degree… his life. This was his life now! 

Around eight, Wei Ying began to shift in his place. They didn’t run short of occasions in which Lan Wangji had to move an elbow pressing against his ribs or gently straighten his husband’s posture, so he wouldn’t complain of back pain the following day. Lan Wangji could tell, from his frown and mumbling, this wasn’t a mere matter of choosing one posture. 

Naturally, they didn’t run short on nightmares either. 

“Wake up” he tapped on his husband’s face lightly. “It’s okay, wake up”. 

“Shijie” Wei Wuxian replied as he opened his eyes.

Wangji did not feel the need to say anything. He simply stilled his lips on Wei Ying’s hairline. 

“Lan Zhan…”

“Nightmare”. 

“Yeah, it seems like it… I’m sorry, you must be tired of having me waking you up time and time again with this stuff. It’s even worse since I can’t stand still when I’m sleeping badly” in all honesty, Wei Wuxian never stood still no matter what, but Lan Wangji decided against mentioning it. “I hope I didn’t hit you with my knee this once”.

“I’m fine”. 

“Me as well! So you can go back to sleep and stop worrying”. 

“Not tired”. 

“Ah, you’ve surely been just laying down here, awake, since five. Lan Zhan, you should’ve slept. I can’t understand how you don’t die of boredom having me drooling on the pillow without doing anything else”. 

“I’m not bored”. 

“Oh”. 

Wei Ying made sure to hide his face very well between the covers and Wangji’s chest, in such a way that he couldn’t see his expression regardless of how much he turned his neck. Anyway, he wouldn’t need it to understand what had just happened. 

“Lan Zhan, you can’t just say things like that so seriously. Anyone would think that… well, they won’t come up with anything they haven’t already. Ah, I don’t know what I’m saying. You’re really good, Lan Zhan”. 

“You can go back to sleep if you want to”. 

Right after that, Wei Wuxian half climbed his torso, half crawled with his right arm, to lay his head on the pillow. The tips of their noses touched. 

“I think it’s best if I keep you company”, he said grinning widely. “Sometimes you impress me so, how you’re able to endure hours and hours alone, doing nothing…” he trailed off, wrinkling his nose and looking aside the way he usually did when he thought he had touched on a sensitive topic. 

“I’m with Wei Ying”. 

“Exactly! Even in my sleep I’m still some fantastic company”. 

“Hmm”. 

Wei Wuxian began to laugh softly.

“I’m always going to be by your side, alright? Someone has to make sure you don’t get bored, and, who better than me? Besides, that way I get to speak as much as I please, the Cloud Recesses is already silent enough as it is. Having some variety is great! So, yeah, I’m not leaving… not anymore. This time we get to stay like this, no matter what! Is that fine?” 

Wangji replied before he could carry on panicking any further. 

“I was lonely… I got used to time passing… while I felt still”. 

It wasn’t that much of a confession, but he found it hard to reminiscence on it nonetheless. Wei Wuxian’s breath caught upon hearing it. Perhaps he was downplaying the significance of his own words in his head, too used to hearing it from the inside, never once spoken. It hurt. Being without him had hurt to no end. Wei Wuxian could tell as much, he knew. 

“Maybe it is worth it now, the pain. I didn’t feel like it was at the time. I went on for you… and for me. It was quiet, but not peaceful, and very lonely”. 

Somehow he managed to summarise, some would say understate, his brother would, those sixteen years. Wei Ying teared up. 

“I… I wish I had known back then, I would have… I don’t know what I would have changed but, maybe if I did something different I could have spared you--” 

“Wei Ying”. 

“Yes, sorry”. 

“I spent sixteen years grieving, not because of you, for you. But, in this life, now, together… I’ve never been as happy”.

[recurring-polynya]

saw your tags and I’M BEGGING YOU something about the rukia vs as nodt fight maybe just a drabble however you see fit 🥺🥺🥺

I am sorry this took so long!! Anyway, this ask was in reference to this post about the fears Rukia experienced during the As Nodt fight. I honestly don’t know why I have never seen another fic about this, but if you know of one, send it my way!!

In any case, I don’t usually write dark stuff, but I am good at it, actually, so this one gets a TRIGGER WARNING: Intrusive ideation of the gruesome death of a loved one. Eight times. Probably some spoilers for the TYBWA.

PS: If you want to know more about the time Renji broke his arm in Inuzuri, it’s a shoutback to this.

Rukia is running, her filthy bare feet pounding against the hardpack. She can hear the echoes of other feet behind her, but she can’t tell how many. She skids to a halt, panting, and turns, eyes wide and panicked, ready to count one, two, three, four heads. Four plus her means that everyone is safe.

She is alone.

---

Rukia flinches, waiting for the lead pipe to splatter her brains across the dusty Inuzuri street. But there is no pain, only the sound of bone crunching, followed by a soft grunt.

She has been rescued. Renji, as is his way, has placed himself between herself and the consequences of her actions once again. His arm now hangs uselessly at his side, dripping blood steadily onto the ground. “Fuck you!” he screams at her attacker, who raises the pipe for a second swing.

This isn’t right, Rukia tells herself. This isn’t how it happened.

Hot blood splashes across her face.

---

They stayed too late in the 77th. Renji kept eying the pale clouds gathering overhead, but Rukia thought she could score a few of scraps of food as the vendors in the market were shutting down. Not only was she wrong, but the snow had started falling when they were still a mile north of the Inuzuri border.

Now they were huddled against the bole of an old, half-rotten oak, under a pile of what little brush they were able to gather before the visibility went down to nothing.

Rukia’s brain feels fogged and sleepy. She honestly can’t tell if she’s hot or cold, temperature has become some alien concern. Renji’s arm, wrapped around her, pulling her close, feels heavy, too heavy.

“Renji,” she mumbles. “Renji, don’t go to sleep.”

Her eyelashes are crusted with snow, she can barely see. She shoves her ear against his chest, and listens for his heartbeat.

There is nothing.

---

It is raining, but she can still hear shouts from the courtyard.

“I just want to see her, you flash bastard! I just want to know that she’s okay!”

Rukia tries to make her way to the front entrance, but the hallways of the manor are foreign and seem to reconfigure themselves as soon as she picks a direction. It isn’t right, she tells herself over and over, trying to control the feelings of terror that course through her. I sent him away. I sent him away so this wouldn’t happen.

By the time she gets oriented, Brother is returning inside, his haori dotted with rain. He is wiping down his sword with a cloth that is stained very, very red. “The disturbance is dealt with, Rukia,” he informs her. “You may return to bed.”

---

“I won’t let you take her,” Ichigo snarls, and plunges his sword into Renji’s heart.

The rage melts from Renji’s face, leaving only disbelief behind. His eyes meet Rukia’s briefly, before they roll upward and falls, face-first, onto the street.

Her feet are frozen to the ground, a scream is lodged in her throat, unable to come out. She doesn’t want Ichigo to die, but she doesn’t want this either.

“Unfortunately, that is not up to you,” her brother’s voice echoes in her ears, and suddenly, there is a sword tip protruding from Ichigo’s chest, and an equally surprised expression on his own face.

A strangled sound, not yet a scream, emerges from her throat.

---

Rukia is walking across a bridge. Her thoughts are wrapped up in her own pending execution, when she feels it like a stone plunging into a lake.

Renji is gone.

She grasps frantically for his reiatsu, for a trace, a wisp. The guards are prodding her, yelling at her. Her reiatsu sense is becoming flooded by Ichimaru Gin, walking steadily toward her, smiling his snake-like grin, but she sifts for the tiniest sandgrain, trying to find some evidence that Renji lives.

There is none. Renji is gone.

---

Renji’s body cants forward, he can barely hold himself up, but his grip on her does not falter. Aizen’s shadow falls over them both. Aizen is talking, talking, talking, but his words are just empty buzzing. Rukia is pushing against Renji’s arms, his chest. She’s not sure if she’s trying to get him upright again, or trying to free herself from his grasp.

Just once, she thinks. Just once, let me put my body in front of yours, you bastard, just once.

“Please, Captain Aizen!” she begs, her voice desperate and shrill. “Please, I’ll--”

“No.” Renji’s voice gurgles in his chest. One of his lungs is punctured. “I told you to shut up… Rukia,” he murmurs, and she recalls that he often says “shut up” when he means “I love you.”

Not again, I can’t take any more, please not again.

“I’m not letting go of you,” he curses her, before raising his eyes to Aizen. “I’m not leaving her,” he swears. “You bastard.”

“I see,” Aizen replies. “That’s unfortunate.”

This time, no one intercepts the blow.

---

Grimmjow Jaegerjaquez saunters down the empty Karakura Street. “So, which is it?” he drawls. “Which one of you three is the strongest?”

Renji sidles a step in front of Rukia.

“No,” Rukia murmurs. “No, you weren’t there. You were off getting gored by Yylfordt Granz, you bonehead.”

“Not you,” Grimmjow decides, ramming his hand through Renji’s guts.

It’s not pleasant to watch, but Rukia forces ice through her veins and refuses to look away. It’s not real. Renji lets me fight my own fights.

Renji coughs once. His body hits the ground with a wet smack.

---

The Arrancar, this pulsating mass with Shiba Kaien’s face, levels Nejibana at her, when Rukia feels Renji’s reiatsu storming through the hallways of Las Noches, his footsteps pounding like a heartbeat against her spiritual senses.

“Give it up,” Rukia growls, forcing herself to remember clasping his hand in the desert, making him promise.

“I swear on my sword,” he’d agreed, reluctantly.

“Say it. Say the whole thing.”

He rolls his eyes and sighs dramatically. “I swear on Zabimaru that I won’t die for you, okay, Rukia? Of all the stupid--”

“It’s not! It’s not stupid! I can’t fight all-out if I have to worry about you throwing your stupid body in front of me the minute I start to lose! I’m strong, Renji, you have to have a little fucking faith in me!”

“I do!” he had protested. “Of course I do! I always have! That isn’t why… that’s not… I…”

“It’s not the time for that.” She couldn’t meet his eyes. “But I know why. You don’t have to say it.”

One side of his mouth quirked up in a humorless smile. “Yeah. Well. You got your way. I promised. Do me a favor in return and at least try to stay alive, would you, Kuchiki?”

The promises were real, and Renji kept his. She didn’t then, and she doesn’t now, either.

“Sorry, Renji,” she sighs and throws herself forward onto the trident.

---

Rukia is screaming. She is screaming and screaming and she can’t stop.

Suddenly, there is a loud crack, and As Nodt’s Tatar Foras begins to shatter around them. Daylight leaks through, at last. Rukia has access to her senses once again.

She scrabbles, desperately feeling out with her reiatsu, trying to find Renji. She doesn’t know exactly when it happened that she became perpetually aware of him. Maybe sometime during the Winter War, she spent so much time groping around for him that he became lodged in her head, a half-forgotten song she couldn’t knock loose. Since the Royal Realm, though, he’s been a noisy, omnipresent companion, a rhythmic bassline steadying the tempo of her own soul.

He is halfway across the Seireitei.

He was napping, but he’s waking up now.

Napping.

It wasn’t Renji that came to her rescue at all, but Brother, whom she supposes also has a right to a piece of As Nodt.

Renji is sure to get in another fight sooner rather than later, but at least if he dies, it will be because he wasn’t strong enough, not because she wasn’t. That’s a bit of a weird thought, Rukia realizes, as the paralyzing fear slowly recedes from her body. She doesn’t want Renji to die at all.

The solution is obvious. She and Byakuya will just have to finish this quickly, and then she can go protect that bonehead with her own strength. He will likely chew her out and then she can tell him to shut up.

“Do you still have any fears?” Byakuya asks her, trying to gauge if she has shaken the aftereffects of As Nodt’s spell. “Rukia?”

Rukia adjusts her grip on her sword. “No!” she replies.

[nat-20s]

PROMPT! the first time the s1 archive gang hangs out outside of work (any variation of the group, doesn’t have to be All of them)

This is only the Archive Assistant sqaud, bc I’m sorry Jon, but no bosses allowed. Also it’s VERY silly and soft bc sometimes u just wanna write nice things u know

(also also fuck I lovecompletely missed that this said “first time” they hang out but uhh. I hope u like it anyway.)

Tim Stoker like to think that, sometimes, not to toot his own horn, but he can be something of a genius. When a cousin’s cousin had offered to let him use their cozy little cabin for a night or two in exchange for help with moving, he had been struck with what could only be humbly described as “inspiration of the most divine nature”. For, as nice as a Friday evening away from it all by himself sounds, it’s so much nicer for a Friday evening away from it all to serve as Archival Assistants Bonding Time™. Or well, more like Tim and Sasha, Who Are Already Best Friends Forever, Figure Out What Martin’s Deal Is, Because For A Guy So Chatty, He Sure Is Mysterious Time™, but that’s not nearly as catchy. Truly, his plan was brilliant, bringing two compatriots and an excessive amount of food and drink to a spot away from the prying eyes of the world and bosses, and feast in the openness and silliness that comes from having a great fucking time.

His plan, and his genius, were tragically derailed. While he knew on their drive up that the air was rapidly getting cooler, Tim couldn’t have even pretended to predict that an hour into their stay would bring a freak blizzard that means they’re snowed in for the next three days, which was 3 times longer than he had accounted on spending with his coworkers/friends. There was more than enough food to last them, and almost enough alcohol, but as Sasha so kindly put it:

“First you make us reenact the first scene of every bad teen slasher movie, now there’s a fucking white out. If we lose power, I’m telling you, there is absolutely going to be a murder.”

“Pfft, no way. The guy who owns this place is one of those weird ass prepper types, there’s a back up generator for the back up generator. And even if we did lose power, we’re all much more the “huddle for warmth under a shared blanket in front of the roaring fire” types than the “get panicked and stab someone in darkness” types, right? Back me up here, Marto.”

Martin, who at three shots in is both hilarious and mean, directs his response to Sasha. “in the event of a black-out I vote we kill Tim. I can take him down and you can finish the job.”

Sasha tips her cup at him, saying, “I like the way you think,” at the same time that Tim yells out, “Hey! Why am I the one dying?!”

Sasha tells him, “Duh. This whole thing was your idea, which makes you the Dr. Black* of this situation. Any good mansion murder mystery dictates the the host dies first. Then, in a moment of entirely unplanned synchronization, her and Martin start chanting, “Host dies first! Host dies first!”

“Okay, you know what? Fuck both of y’all, it’s not my fault that you’re both thoroughbred city slickers that can’t handle being in a cabin with plumbing and running water and electricity. Didn’t either of you go camping as kids?”

Sasha replies “No I’m far too pretty for that,” while Martin bursts out laughing. It takes about 20 seconds for him to settle down. Wiping away a tear, he elaborates, “Sorry, sorry, just. Can not imagine my mother on a camping trip.  I mean, sure, she probably hoped at one point or another that I’d be lost in the woods as a child, or maybe even now, but I think that’s a bit different.”

Tim leans over the kitchen counter, placing his chin in his hands as he says, “Oh shit, Martin lore. Spill the deets.”

Sasha, who’s loyalties tend to sway towards whatever’s most interesting in the moment, piles on with, “You called her your mother, not your mum. That’s means she’s pretty much a right bastard, or a member of the aristocracy, which is just another term for right bastard but you got to grow up as a rich kid. Am I right?”

It’s clear the the two of them have made a grave mistake. All joviality flees Martin’s expression, and he shrinks down both his physical presence and his voice to something that could easily be overlooked if someone wasn’t paying attention. “Oh, um, well, I definitely didn’t grow up as a rich kid. And, it terms of the ‘right bastard’ thing, she’s not- er. That’s to say, she’s- she’s sick and. She’s doing the best she can, given, given everything.”

Martin pointedly looks at his hands while Tim and Sasha panickedly look at each other. They go to either side of him, and when he doesn’t flinch away, they each place a comforting hand on his shoulder. Tim immediately feels the itch to fill the heavy quiet, and he happens to know he has quite the talent for blazing on ahead after these kinds of moments. It’s how he’s survived basically party for the past decade. “Ooookay, I’m gonna go ahead and say that all depressing familial reveals shall be held off until at least the second night of being trapped. While Sasha may have irritatingly few skeletons in her closet in that regard-”

“I have Tory grandparents?”

“We all have Tory grandparents Sash, that’s absolutely nothing. As I was saying, while Sash’s family is boring and semi functional, you and me are gonna do some fuckin’ commiserating on our journey from work friends to friend friends. However, I’m going to have to be 40% drunker, go through a decently strong hangover, and then once again get hair of the dog drunk before I can even start to consider heading down that path. And in that spirit, I think it’s time to start up the drinking games. Truth or dare might end up a bit too heavy for our needs, but Never Have I Ever should suit us just fine. I know I’m gonna regret saying this considering Sasha is 100% going to target my ass, but I think we should establish that whoever puts all ten fingers down first has to chug the rest of the box wine.”

Sasha pipes up with, “Ugh, no, not drinking games, that’s such twenty-something bullshit. I expected better from you.”

“Hey, Martin is a twenty-something, so that still works fine actually-”

“Tim!”

“What?”

Martin’s directing wide, bordering on frantic, eyes at him, and Tim is almost certainly missing something, though he can’t for the life of him figure it out. Sasha’s head is bobbing slightly between the two of them, and shes apparently able to parse what Tim has not. “Oh! Martin, uh, I already know that you’re 2, and it’s cool.”

“Did..did Tim tell you or?”

Tim scoffs out an “I wouldn’t!” even though there’s a distinct possibility that, entirely on accident, he would, and Sasha makes a reassuring coo. “No, no, babe, nothing like that. It’s just that, uh, the Magnus Institute is kind of notorious for not doing any background checks pretty much ever, so when I get a new coworker, I..do it myself.”

Martin’s face blanches, and his eyes somehow get even wider. “Oh god, please don’t tell Jon or Elias, I know I don’t have the credentials, but I really need-”

“Woah, woah, I’m not gonna do that. First of all, archival assistant squad, we ride together we die together in a snowed in god forsaken log cabin, secondly, it’d be hypocritical as fuck if I got up your ass about qualifications. Not a single one of us is qualified for our jobs, not even Jon. Maybe especially not Jon. It’s like, raise your hand if you have a degree in library sciences. No one? Okay, cool, that’s not weird at all for an archive. Actually, maybe bring that up next time he gives you shit. He’ll be all like ‘bluh bluh, you didn’t document this spooky bullshit well enough, it’s not up to the High Standards here at Spooky Bullshit Emporium’ and you can be like ‘whatever buddy, you’re an English major, what do you fuckin’ know?’. It’ll be devastating. He’ll be devastated.”

Martin laughs in the manner of someone who knows that they shouldn’t be, and his shoulders relax into  a lower position. “Why would you want me to devastate him? I thought you guys were friends?”

“We are, which is why we all collectively need to get back at Jon for acting like such a prick. He’s always been a bit temperamental, but I honestly don’t get what his deal is, especially with you. I mean, c’mon, you’re great, being mean to you is like kicking a puppy.”

“Thanks? I think?”

Tim pipes up with, “Oooo, since drinking games are apparently too childish for Sasha, what if instead we play ‘What’s Jon’s Deal Anyway, Featuring, Seriously, Why Target Martin, The Baby of The Archives’-”

“-That feels a bit reductive of who I am and I also I think I’m technically older than Jon?-”

“-Whoever comes up with the best explanation, and by best obviously I mean most entertaining, gets an all expense paid trip from the other two to one of the charity shops I know we all frequent.”

Sasha snorts, “Wow, a whole twenty quid, who could resist such temptation. But also, I’m in, I think I have a winner and I have a violent need to out-cardigan Jon.”

Martin’s relaxation is gone again, which Tim thinks need to be fixed through aggressively passing a glass of wine towards him. He takes it without protest, takes a long drink, and says, “This seems more like 3 am conversation than a 9 pm one.”

Sasha gives an encouraging nudge, prompting another drink, and replies, “Yeah, well, I am not gonna make it to 3 am. I’ve got about an hour until the Alcohol Sleepiness sets in, and I know Tim will be right behind me.”

“Sashaaaaaa, you’re ruining my reputation as a young-at-heart, party-all-night kind of guy.”

“Babe, you’ve complained about your bones aching often enough that you’ve never had that reputation.”

“Surrounded by mean drunks, that’s what I am. I should be pitied.”

Martin shoots a glance towards Sasha, then replies, “You’d be more pitiable if this entire thing wasn’t, you know, entirely your own fault.”

Sasha nods sagely, “It’s true. If you were pitiable then maybe you wouldn’t have to die first.”

“You know what? I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room, how about we divert some of that towards complaining about our bosses, as coworkers who are hanging out and having a good time and not bullying me are supposed to do.”

Sasha giggles slightly as she leans down and presses a kiss to Tim’s cheek. “Aw, sorry, Tim. I promise to double cross Martin when if becomes killing time.”

Tim melts a little, even as he’s replying, “Wait, when?” Martin takes another sip and says, “Whatever. I could take you both.”

How the hell are you supposed to resist a set up like that? With an over the top wink and cheesy grin, Tim says, “I bet you could, big guy.”

He’s expecting a slightly flustered reaction, maybe a higher pitched voice and a blush, if he’s lucky. He gets all of those things, but it’s Sasha saying, “Oh my god.” Martin only gives him a raised eyebrow and level stare, and Tim makes a mental note to reevaluate his dedication to only considering Martin in a strictly platonic fashion. Sasha continues talking, cutting through the..tension? with, “Okay, now I am uncomfortable with the energy that’s been created in this room. Tim, tell the studio audience what you think is up with Jon.”

Tim blinks, hard, gives a shake of his head, and says, “Oh, obviously the Jon we know is dead. His ‘promotion’ to Head Archivist was actually Elias killing him off and replacing him with a robot that has the command If: see Martin Then: be dick. Don’t worry Marto, now that Sasha is aware of the issue, she’ll surely be able to reprogram him.”

Sasha hums a bit, then says, “I buy it. I think my explanation’s better, but Elias does seem the “kill a dude and replace him” type. Like if I was gonna suspect any particular person of murder he’s in the top five.”

“Seriously? Elias? Somehow has middle manager vibes even though he’s the head honcho Elias? Mr. ‘I probably wore boat shoes and khaki shorts for the entirety of university’ Bouchard? Voted most likely to put a thin layer of mayo in between two pieces of white bread and claim it’s a sandwich Elias? The area man that’s almost certainly gone on record as saying that golf and networking are his favorite hobbies Elias? He’s far too boring to have committed a murder.”

Tim’s looking at Martin with shock and delight, and he knows Sasha is wearing the exact same expression. “More of this. Please describe more of the things that Elias is.”

“I mean, sure? Uhh, guy that would pay $80 for a dime bag because you told him it’s a premium strain. Person that ironically says things like “kids these days” and “the youths” and you know he’s talking about people well into their 30s. Genuinely believes that if you can afford a cell phone then you shouldn’t be complaining about being  poor, because apparently a one time purchase of around a hundred bucks is the same as trying to pay monthly rent. Tells people to haul themselves up by their bootstraps. Thinks he got to where he was ‘without anybody’s handouts’ even though he’s had a trust fund since he was 15. Writes weekly editorials to the local newspaper complaining about the liberalization of media, and they’re like ‘sir, please stop submitting to us, we’re just trying to talk about Lisa’s gardening club’ because they can’t professionally tell him to fuck off. Thinks salt and pepper are the only spices one could ever possibly need, everything else is simply excessive. Somehow gay and homophobic. Like, yes, he’s taken a male lover, but he’s also seconds away from calling you a slur at any one time. Actually, no, that’s too interesting, and I refuse to believe he’s had a lover. Legally, he cannot have a lover, I’ve decided, so just gay and homophobic, both in theory alone. Has said that Boris Johnson is “a bit much, but really not so bad, and much better than any of the alternatives, really.” All of the cousins in his family banded together and officially got him banned from any sort of major holiday dinners. Basically every shitty boss you’ve ever had, especially if you’ve worked retail, rolled into one.”

Tim lets out a low whistle. “Damn, all right. Get fucked Elias.”

Sasha emphatically agrees, “Get fucked Elias.”

They all clink their glasses together, and then there’s a beat of silence before Martin says, “I’m pretty sure robots can’t get eye bags.”

Tim and Sasha let out a “huh” and “hmm?” respectively, so Martin elaborates. “You posited that Jon had been replaced with a robot. Pretty sure robots aren’t able to look that tired.”

Tim snaps. “Drat, you’ve pointed out the one flaw in my impeccable logic. So what d’you think is up with him? I know you don’t have the Before The Archives comparison, but I think you could provide a fresh perspective.”

“Oh, fuck, I don’t know. Two months ago, I might have had some choice words, but first off, you all genuinely got on, so it didn’t really make sense for him to be awful all the time, and secondly ever since the, um, worm thing, he’s actually been pretty nice? I haven’t heard any snide comments, and whenever I mess something up he’s a lot more, um, gentle about explaining what wrong. He actually complimented my work the other day so. I guess I think Jon’s deal was that he was stressed out and I was very nervous and not very good at my job and he picked up on that?”

“So you think he’s like a horse.”

“Explain.”

“He sensed your fear and he became skittish and irritable in kind.”

“Horses can sense fear?”

“Horses can sense everything.”

“That’s fucked up.”

“Right?”

“Guys, we’ve gone on like four different tangents in one conversation. Martin, I’m very glad to hear that Jon’s changed his behavior towards, because it means I don’t have to yell at him on your behalf, you’re getting to see the person that me and Tim both know who is actually pretty cool, and also mostly because it feeds perfectly into my winning theory.”

“What, you’ve got something better than Martin’s ‘accurate but boring’ reasoning or my ‘super cool but now that I think about it for .5 seconds actually kind of a bummer robot’ knowledge?”

Sasha’s incredibly self-assured when she says, “I sure fuckin’ do. Jon’s secretly been in love with Martin the whole time, and he’s been previously overcompensating by acting like he hates him.” which makes Tim choke on air and Martin emphatically reply, “Fuck off, he is not.”

“No, no, hear me out, I have, I have receipts, as the kids say. First point of evidence: Martin’s stupid hot, and there’s no way that Jon is straight, so obviously he’s not gonna be impervious to that.”

“What?”

“Oh come off it Martin, it’s just a fact. Like, me personally? I don’t even do the whole romance thing, but the first time I ever saw you I blacked out slightly and thought ‘Now there’s a man I could raise some ferrets with.’.”

“I, um, I, well. Is that...supposed to be a euphemism for something?”

“What? No, I’ve just always wanted ferrets, and asking someone to raise pets with you is like the height of romance, I’m pretty sure. Back me up here Tim.”

“On the ferret thing or the Martin hot thing?”

“Either? Both.”

“Aight. Yes, asking someone to raise ferrets with you is basically a marriage proposal if that someone is Sasha, and I hate to break it to you Martin, but you’re incredibly good-looking. We’re all incredibly good-looking, to the point where I think the only qualification for the archives staff is being a straight up hottie. OH! We should name the group chat “straight up hottie squad”. Anyway, yep, point for Sasha.”

“Not a point for Sasha, even if I believe you about about my, em, physical attractiveness,-”

“-Don’t have to put belief in a fact, Marto-”

“-that doesn’t mean anything. By that logic, he’s equally as likely to be in love with either of you, and my money would be on Sasha if it was anyone, because you’re clearly his favorite.”

“Ah, but that’s exactly why it isn’t me, but thank you for the transition into my second point which is: Jon is the kind of person that sees anything that might make him vulnerable and starts aggressively defending himself against it, and what’s more vulnerable than a crush? He’s not crushing on Tim, because Tim’s fucking great, but sometimes he’s also the walking, talking embodiment of sensory overload, and while I myself I love that, Jon clearly gets a bit overwhelmed by it at times. He’s not into me, because he knows better than that, and overall I’m pretty non-threatening to his whole thing, so of course he’s going to be the most relaxed around me. You, on the other hand, are single, hot, kind to animals and people alike, and make a great cup of tea. Incredibly crush worthy, thus incredibly threatening, thus Jon acting like That.”

“Hmm, this still seems like something that comes from watching one too many corny rom coms, and that’ s coming from someone who loves corny rom coms.”

“I also love corny rom coms, but that’s completely beside the point. Because, okay, sure, if Jon had just been a weird asshole to you, I wouldn’t be like ‘oh, yeah, that’s a classic case of covering for something’ but you’re right about him being nicer since the worm thing. So nice, in fact, I shall be bringing in Timothy as my star witness that’s going to blow this whole case wide open. Martin, you may not have heard how Jon has started to talk about you, but me and Tim sure have.”

“God, yeah. Like if we thought he wouldn’t shut up about you before-

“-which he wouldn’t-”

“it’s gotten way worse now.”

“I think the whole life threatening worm woman flipped a switch for him and now he’s all fuckin. ‘Oh, Martin should stay in the archives, let me give him the place that I sleep.”

“Oh, Martin, I don’t think he should go out on too many research trips anymore, I’d much prefer for him to be ~nice and close~”

“Oh, Martin, good lord, did you know that his tea is quite good? I’m think it might actually be the best I’ve ever had.”

“Oh, Martin, his work’s rather improved, don’t you think? It’s really quite impressive, especially considering all the stress he’s had to endure.”

“Oh, Martin, I just want him to take me into his big, strong arms and whisk me away from all of this.”

“He did not fucking say that last one.”

Sasha throws her arms up in the air. “He may as well have!”

Nodding sagely, Tim replies, “This whole thing holds water. I vote Sasha gets the shopping trip. Martin?”

Martin stares at his drink as if it has any ability to give him any sort of answers, then lets out a sigh with his entire body. “You know what? It’s probably nicer than whatever the fuck is the truth, so sure, why not? Let’s get Sasha her cardigans.”

Sasha lets out a whoop. “Hell yeah! Can’t wait for spree, assuming all three of us get out of this cabin alive.”

“Okay, nope, clearly Sasha needs another distraction. Got any suggestions, Martin?”

“Uh, wasn’t a karaoke machine part of the sales pitch for this place?”

“Martey babey, yes! I wouldn’t have thought you’d spring for that sort of thing!”

“If this were a public bar or something where I’d have to listen to drunk strangers and they’d have to listen to me, then no, I’d rather have my brain pulled through my nose a la mummification. But with only you guys and fourish drinks in? I’m down to clown.”

“Sash, you with us?”

“Dunno, what songs are there?”

Tim shrugs, and heads to the storage closet that contains all the various entertainment equipment. It takes a bit of searching, and a bit more digging, but he’s able to unearth the ancient portable karaoke machine. He also grabs some of the jigsaws, mostly on the thought that sometimes a bitch just wants to hang out with their friends and do a puzzle. Also because in light of the fact that they’re stuck inside with no sort of access to the outside world for two days longer than planned, there’s pretty much no way that they’re not going to reach a point where they all say fuck it let’s do a puzzle.

Plugging in the machine, it takes a solid several minutes to boot up, which is the perfect length of time to take it upon himself to take one for the team and chug the box wine himself, with Sasha and Martin chanting in the background. When he finishes, they cheer, and then Martin immediately shoves a glass of water for him to down as well, muttering something about how he wants him to be alive in the morning. Tim can tell he’s well inebriated by now, because the simple thoughtful gesture is enough to make him a little bit misty-eyed, and Sasha can attest to alcohol turning him into the world’s biggest sap. In order to avoid prevent himself from becoming the kind of person who says “I love you” in a gradually more sloppy repeat, he starts flipping through the discography of the now running machine. “Alright y’all, it looks like we got 80s songs or...80s songs. Ooo, they have the Grease 2 soundtrack.”

That gets him a well deserved “No!” from both parties, with Sasha adding on, “Not even if it was Grease 1. I’m putting an embargo on musical theater in general.”

“Oh come on, some musicals are better than other. Right, Marto?”

“I’m with Sasha on this one.”

“Boo. But fine, what do you want?”

Martin and Sasha glance at each other, and Tim’s amazed at how well the bonding night-turned-long-weekend has gone so far, considering they seem to have already mastered the art of silent communication. Martin speaks first, with, “They got Dolly Parton?”

The process of scrolling through individual letters to type is achingly slow, but luckily all he needs to get through is “DO” before she shows up. “They do.”

Sasha says, “Do they got 9 to 5, by Dolly Parton?”

Tim’s eyes light up with realization as he says, “They do,” and in a moment of spontaneous understanding, all three of them know that they’re not simply going to sing 9 to 5. No, they’re going to do a  full blown music video for the benefit for nobody but themselves, because why the fuck not.

The next hour is spent in a very silly fashion. They figure out how to use the cabin’s layout to their advantage, assign various parts of the song to each person, and practice their inexpert choreography a few times with the song tinnily blasting from Sasha’s phone. The final result is hardly of professional quality, but it is of making them all giggle quality. It starts off in a relay like manner, each of them in a different area to coordinate with “Tumble of out bed and stumble to the kitchen” (Sasha on the couch), “Pour myself a cup of ambition”, (Tim at the coffemaker), and “Yawn and stretch and try to come to life” (Martin at the fridge), with them finally crowding around the karaoke machine together to scream sing the chorus. Despite their practice, they quickly go off key, and while they might end up with low points for accuracy, they get full marks on enthusiasm.

When the song ends, it takes them a few minutes to settle down into something less giddy. As they do, Sasha, out of breath, says, “Fuck me, I’m sleepy now. What the hell?”

Tim hums in affirmation. “Goddammit, I’m tired too. Let me guess, Martin, you’re young enough that you could go all night?”

“No? I’ve never pulled an all-nighter in my life. Actually, I know that it was supposed to be in case the power went out, but huddling together under a blanket in front of a fire sounds really nice? I mean, um, if you guys were down.”

Sasha leans her head against Martin’s shoulder and takes on the expression of a deeply content cat. “Mmm, I call Martin, he’s warm.”

“Absolutely not, I also want to leech Martin’s warmth. You good with being in the middle?”

Martin’s practically beaming, but his voice manages to almost fake being put upon. “I suppose it’s a sacrifice I could make.”

With Sasha already half asleep, Martin brings her over to the couch, while Tim gets them all set up. He manages to find the kind of big, fluffy blanket that all cabins should contain and wraps it around their shoulders. Luckily for them, the fireplace is gas lit and can be put on a timer. He sets it for 30 minutes, even though all three of them are going to be long passed out before them. Sasha is already softly snoring away, and Martin’s head keeps drifting down and snapping back up. Tim curls up against Martin’s other side, and even though all three of them are going to wake up with aching backs and worse heads, he thinks he really just might be a genius after all.

*Why is Mr. Boddy’s name Dr. Black in the UK. I hate that. Why would you not have the dumb joke of  naming the victim “boddy”. Hey brits explain your crimes.

[isiddthesloth]

I Got a Feline, Chapter 3: A My Hero Academia Fanfic.

I’d really appreciate it if you could head over to AO3 and let me know what you think in the comments there! If not, I’ll post this entire chapter here. I’m working on chapter 4 now.

     Were you going to walk casually in, as if there was nothing wrong? Or was Aizawa going to introduce you, just as he had introduced you as his assistant teacher on your first day? You shuddered at the thought. You didn’t want to stand in front of all of Class 1A again, being sized up by children much smaller and younger than you. You were fine when you were teaching them but answering questions about yourself was a different matter. Would they even be able to understand what you were saying in tiger-form, anyway?

     Aizawa strolled in, casually tapping his lesson notes over his shoulder. He hadn’t even spoken to you once since you’d transformed. You wanted to chalk it up to him being sleepy and grumpy, but you knew that even before today, he had always been a little stand-offish.

     “Don’t worry about it!” Hizashi had said over lunch during your first week. He leaned back dangerously in his chair. “I’ve known Shota for years. He’s always like that with everyone!”

     You had cocked an eyebrow at Hizashi. “Uh huh. He doesn’t act that way with you,” you smirked, raising an eyebrow at him (a talent you were quite proud of).

     Hizashi had chuckled. “It’s ‘cause I’ve battered him down with my irresistible charm!” he winked at you, and you rolled your eyes.

     “I bet Aizawa wouldn’t call it that.”

Continue reading on AO3 or

     Aizawa now stood behind the front podium, running through a couple of announcements. You waited nervously just outside the door. As soon as he’d finished, even before he could take the next breath, Tsu raised her hand. Before Aizawa called on her, she rushed forward.

     “Aizawa-sensei, where is [Y/N]-sensei?” Tsu asked. Most of the girls nodded in agreement, chorusing, “Yeah, where are they?” “Shouldn’t they be here by now?” “What if they were attacked by a villain?” “What if they’re DEAD?” You couldn’t help but smile to yourself. 1A had the special ability to always make you laugh, even when you didn’t want to.

     The panicked mumbles of the class grew louder and louder, and you looked at Aizawa with concern. “That’s enough!” His eyes flashed and all the students immediately settled down.

     “[Y/N]-sensei had a quirk-related incident earlier today.” Before any of the kids could interrupt him with more questions, Aizawa continued. “They will be remaining in this form temporarily.”

     You took that as your cue to enter. For a moment, there was only a shocked silence. Then, all of a sudden, there was an uproar. Many students almost jumped out of their seats (they had the good sense to not actually leave them; Aizawa already looked more than slightly annoyed).

     You tried to give the class a small smile, even as most of the kids began shouting questions, some of them even lifting out of their chairs with their hands raised.

     “That’s so AWESOME!” Kaminari yelled. Mineta fainted and fell out of his chair (you rolled your eyes at that). Bakugo and Todoroki looked unimpressed and a little bored. Midoriya immediately pulled out his notebook, looked at you, then frantically wrote, looked back at you, and then took more notes. Black Shadow cowered behind Tokoyami.

     Oh yeah, birds are afraid of cats. You would have to be careful not to frighten Tokoyami too much. You weren’t the type of teacher who terrorized their students.

     “[Y/N]-sensei still have their earrings! How many do you have?” Sero yelled. Embarrassed, you flattened your ears against your head.

     Aizawa’s eyes flashed again, and the class settled down for a moment. He’s going to tire himself out if he keeps using his quirk like that, you thought.

     “[Y/N]-sensei, please proceed to the back of the room, as you are usually stationed.” You nodded and began the excruciatingly slow walk to the back of the classroom, every students’ eyes on you (except Mineta; he was still on the floor).

     “Midoriya, please take Mineta to Recovery Girl-san’s office,” Aizawa instructed. Midoriya and Mineta were seatmates. You were glad Aizawa didn’t ask Yaoyorozu. Knowing Mineta, he would suddenly regain conscious all of a sudden and try to pull something on Momo.

     Tenya Iida immediately stood up, hand raised high into the air. “Aizawa-sensei, please allow me to escort Mineta. As class representative, it is my duty to ensure the well-being of the class.” Minoriya nodded in agreement; he definitely wanted to stay and continue taking notes.

     “Oh mon!” Aoyama cried, back of his hand dramatically resting on his forehead. “Whatever shall we do? Our beloved sensei!” This exclamation gave the rest of the class the opportunity to start a ruckus once more.

     “But they’re so cute!” Ochaco squealed, eyes shut tightly, fists clenched under her chin. Her legs swung back and forth, as though she was in overload from cuteness.

     “I think this is wicked cool,” Jiro said, casually lounging backwards in her seat, twirling her earphones around one finger.

     “I agree!” Mina said. “I want to be an animal too! Which one would I be?”

     As you continued to the back, you were passing by Koda when he leaned out of his seat towards you. “Are you all right, sensei?” You nodded and growled in response.

     “That’s good to hear,” Koda said. Oh wait! Koda’s quirk is AniVoice! Maybe I can communicate with him?

     “Koda, can you understand me?” you asked in.

     “Of course, sensei.” You responded by jumping lightly in excitement. Wait, you thought again. I can’t use Koda as a translator. Your face fell a little. But this was the first time Koda had ever directly spoken to you! He was usually so shy and quiet, you had a difficult time getting to know him. Looks like he felt more comfortable talking to you in your animal form. As an instructor, you couldn’t use Koda’s Quirk to help you for personal reasons, no matter how frustrating your missing ability to communicate was. But maybe this could be an opportunity to bring him out of his hard shell!

     “Thank you for asking, Koda. If you need help with anything, let me know. I will still do my best as your teacher.” You said to him. He smiled sweetly at you. Progress!

     You passed by Kirishima’s seat, and he too leaned out of his chair. “You’re so soft!” he squealed, rubbing the top of your head. It felt really nice, especially as the itching from earlier today hadn’t completely subsided yet.

     “Keep your hands to yourself, Crazy Hair!” Bakugo yelled, throwing his workbook at Kirishima, who dodged it easily. Eijiro started scratching underneath your chin, and you started thumping your tail against the floor in happiness.

     Aizawa interrupted the petting session from the front of the room. “Yes, hands to yourself, Kirishima,” Aizawa threatened. Both of you shrank in fear a little. Aizawa seemed to be getting even more annoyed, if possible.

     Kirishima recovered quickly. “But Aizawa-sensei! Can I please sit in the back with [Y/N]-sensei?” He didn’t stop scratching you. In fact, he continued leaning forward, and forward, until he fell out of his chair. You jumped back quickly enough not to collide with him, but he hit the floor hard.

     “Are you okay?” you asked frantically. You hated seeing any of your students get hurt, especially if you were (partially) to blame. As he lay on the floor, you started licking his face, making sure he was okay and unhurt. Kirishima started laughing, trying to get up and play-wrestling with you.

     “Don’t start with me,” you growled at him.

     Undeterred, Kirishima said, “I’m okay! I’m not hurt! But your tongue is tickling me!” As he playfully fought back, you toppled him to the floor and sat on him, continuing to lick his hair, making it stick out at even crazier and odder angles than it normally did. You made sure not to put your full weight on him, although you could tell he’d already hardened to make sure to protect himself. Good boy!

     Neither you nor Kirishima paid any attention to Aizawa. “KIRISHIMA!” he yelled. At that, the both you looked at him: you, with your tongue sticking halfway out of your mouth, mid-lick.

     “Aw come-on, Aizawa-sensei! I can pay attention from down here! In fact, I’ll pay even more attention! He Bakugo, throw me my workbook again, will you?”

     “Back of the room!” Aizawa pointed at you. You pouted. You were hurt. You never actually expected Aizawa to speak so angrily at you, especially in front of the class.

     “I was just trying to make sure Kirishima was okay!” you said. Of course, Aizawa didn’t understand.

     Finally, he was able to start class, with you stationed in the back. Usually, you’d be observing how he taught the class, and when bored, you’d be grading papers or homework to pass the time. However, you clearly could do none of that. This is so BORING! Am I this boring when I teach? You were going to have to come up with more ways to engage the class.

     Why not start now?

     Aizawa finally started his lesson. The kids paid attention to him for the first few minutes after his angry outburst, but Hagakure turned around in her seat and waved at you. This started a chain reaction of various kids trying to get your attention every time Aizawa turned to write something on the board.

     You weren’t exactly sure how to respond. They never behaved like this on a regular basis. You lifted one enormous paw to wave back at them, but you put it down quickly, feeling sheepish.

     You hadn’t put it down quickly enough, though, as Aizawa made eye contact with you. “[Y/N]-sensei, please come to the front. Everyone! Eyes up here!”

     Embarrassed, you crawled under the front desk and hid. As Aizawa droned on and on, you tried to make yourself comfortable. How on Earth are cats able to sleep on even the most uncomfortable of surfaces? You wondered. It was still a mystery that eluded you. May you would understand in your final tiger form.

     However, you were still a little miffed that Aizawa yelled at you, and you were really bored. I bet everyone is too! You were going to do something you were really going to regret later. But you had to get back at Aizawa!

     You stuck your tail out from under the front of the desk and waved it back and forth. Kirishima, in true fashion, was the first to laugh; Sero and Kaminari followed soon thereafter. Aizawa turned around quickly, glaring at everyone. The room immediately silenced. A few minutes later, you stuck your paws out, pretending to catch something dangling from a string. The class immediately erupted into laughter once more.

     This time, Aizawa’s eyes flashed and his hair stood on end, his wraps levitating around him. He didn’t even need to say anything this time for the class to quiet down. He leaned down to eye level with you, the desk obscuring you and him from the class. You smiled sweetly at him. He glared at you. You blinked prettily at him again, tilting your head to the side. After trying to intimidate you for a few moments, he sighed, rolled his eyes, and extended a hand to quickly ruffle the fur on your head. He resumed teaching before your face was even able to morph into a look of surprise.

     The bell rang, signaling the end of class and the beginning of a five-minute break. Before anyone could get up from their seats and approach you, you bounded out of the classroom. A chorus of “aww”’s and “Where did [Y/N]-sensei go?” sounded behind you. You skidded to a stop in front of the teacher’s lounge and briskly entered. Catching sight of Aizawa’s yellow sleeping bag, you bounded over, grabbed it in your mouth, and then made your way back to the classroom.

     “Hey! That’s my sleeping bag!” Aizawa grumbled at you. He didn’t want to risk playing tug-of-war with it against you, in case it ripped. You were too busy to respond, laying the sleeping bag down and circling around yourself, trying to get comfortable. Honestly, none of these movements felt instinctual at all; you felt as though you were simply copying movements from all the cat videos you’d watched in your lifetime (there were many). As you circled around the bag, you were distracted by your fluffy tail and started chasing it. Again, the class burst into laughter, while Aizawa looked on. I bet they’ll all have stitches in their sides from laughing so much! You didn’t catch it, but Aizawa smiled briefly at you in amusement as well. You finally settled down and began drifting off to sleep, the sleeping bag smelling comfortably and reassuringly like its owner.

     Being an assistant teacher was a lot of work.

[backtobackbakubabe]

Baby its Cold Outside (PART 6)

Bakugo x Reader 

Fluff. Smut. 

Just taking it one day at a time. 

PART 1 HERE, PART 2 HERE, PART 3 HERE PART 4 HERE PART 5 HERE , PART 6 HERE PART 7 HERE PART 8 HERE PART 9 HERE PART 10 HERE PART 11 HERE PART 12 HERE PART 13 HERE PART 14 HERE

Words: 2821

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

Bakugo had been woken up by a nurse the next morning. She pulled him into the hallway where a doctor was waiting with a clipboard. Looking every bit the stereotype from the dumb tv shows y/n always watches.

The doctor smiled and held out his hand, “Ah Mr. Bakugo I presume?”

Bakugo just stared back, not bothering to shake the mans hand, “Yes, can I help you with something?”

The smile never left the doctors face as he pulled his hand back, “Yes, so I understand Y/n lives with you. Is that correct?”

Bakugo smirked, “As of a few days ago, yes, she officially live with me.”

“Oh perfect! So we are expecting her to wake up any time now and I just wanted to go over everything you might expect in terms of taking care of her while she heals. As you know she suffered a major concussion as well as multiple gunshot wounds to the stomach.”

Bakugo flinched at the memory but nodded anyways as the doctor continued his speech. “When she wakes up she’ll likely be confused and a little frustrated. Because she’s been in a bed for several weeks it may take a while for her to regain normal range of motion but that’s nothing to be concerned about. We recommend having her go to physical therapy, as well as possibly seeing a mental health professional if she needs help coping with the trauma. As the person who will be living with her just make sure she takes her medication and for the first couple of days she may need your help with daily tasks such as showering, getting dressed, picking up anything over fifteen pounds, and so on. Are you prepared to take on these tasks?”

Bakugo was almost offended, “Of course! You think I can’t take care of my own girlfriend? I basically take care of her already!”

The doctor just nodded, “Very well then. Here are some pamphlets on everything I just spoke to you about. I find they can be very helpful and informative. I understand you are a very capable man Mr. Bakugo and I think Y/n will be in great hands. We will more than likely be able to discharge her within 24 hours of her waking up and in the event that you are not here, we will make sure to give you a call to let you know when she has woken up.”

Bakugo’s heart raced at the idea that you would be waking up soon. He had said any time now. He would have sat his ass down in that chair and not left until you woke up, but he knew he has a few things to finish up at the apartment. He also knew he was in desperate need of a shower.

He had officially gotten all of your stuff moved into his place he just needed to go meet with the landlord and turn in your keys. Not that it mattered you never used them anyways seeing as you would just teleport through the door.

Bakugo was skimming through one of the many pamphlets the doctor had given him the day before, sitting in your old apparent when the landlord showed to collect the keys. He gave Bakugo a smile but his eyes looked sad. He liked y/n and was sad to hear of her accident. “Well son, I’m sure the place is in pristine condition. I’ve seen you comin and goin for weeks now to clean it up so here's a check for the security deposit and I’ve waved the cleaning fee.”

Bakugo thanked him as he pocketed the check. He was about to insist that he charge him for the cleaning fee because you were a messy gremlin and he was sure the place could use it but he was interrupted by a weird noise. It was a loud thump from his apartment. “What the fuck...”

He sprinted out of the apartment, bypassed the elevator, opting for the stairs instead. He was practically out of breath by the time he reached his door. Wow he really needs to hit the gym soon. He tried the handle but it was locked... which would mean the person in his apartment didn't use a door...

His hands shook as he ripped his keys out of his pocket and swung the door open. “Y/N!” He ran around the corner to his bed and there you were. Sitting on the floor with your head in your hands.

“Katsu...?”

He was at your side in an instant pulling you to him. “Oh my god. Shit you’re awake. You’re okay. Fuck I’ve been so fucking worried, you have no idea. I love you. I love you so fucking much, and I need you to know that.” He kept kissing the top of your head while he rubbed his hand up and down your back. That’s when he noticed the hospital gown. “Y/n... how did you get here?”

You looked at him with very sleepy and confused eyes, “I don't know. I woke up in the hospital and I was really scared. I couldn't figure out what happened or where I was and I just wanted you... and I guess I accidentally teleported here.”

He took your head in his hands and looked at you like you were crazy, “Y/n we live across town from the hospital... you’re telling me you just teleported 15 miles...”

Your eyes widened, looking just as bewildered as he did, “Yeah I guess I did.”

Next thing you know he’s hugging you so tight, “You know what? I don't even care right now. We’ll figure that out later, right now I just want to hold you. I’ve missed you so much. Dont you ever do something like that again, do you understand me. Ever.”

His phone started to ring but he let it go to voicemail. Whatever it was could wait. He hadn’t held you like this in weeks. He gently scooped you up and brought you to the bed that now had a few of your girly pillows. “Katsu? Are these my pillows? Is that my lamp? Wait what is my stuff doing in your apartment? Did you loot me while I was out?”

He chuckled as his face turned red, “Yeah about that.. I uh.. I kind of moved all of your stuff up here and terminated your lease downstairs.... surprise?”

You knew you should be irritated, but honestly you were just too exhausted to care. You barley spent time in your apartment anyways. So you just shrugged, “Oh okay I guess. I mean if you’re sure...”

He pulled you close to him, “Oh I’m sure. I need you here where I know you’re safe.”

You winced as you giggled still a little sore, “I literally lived in the apartment right below you. It wasn’t exactly a long distance relationship.”

Bakugo ignored your quip instead focusing on your face as it pinched a bit with the pain from laughing. “Are you okay? Do I need to bring you back to the hospital. Shit I probably do. You just up and left...”

You reached up and squished his cheeks together to get him to stop talking, “One thing at a time babe. Yes I am okay. I am really tired, and truthfully I’m very sore. But it’s not anything I can’t deal with. I would kill for some water though...”

He was up and in the kitchen before you could even finish your sentence. You wondered how long this over protective phase would last. Bakugo was never the kind of boyfriend who waited on you hand and foot. Before the accident he would have told you to get off your ass and get it yourself.

He came back with a huge camelback water bottle with a straw. You expected him to hand it to you but instead he crawled into bed next to you and held the straw up to your mouth. “Uh.. Honey. Not that I don’t love the fact you want to take care of me, but I can hold it myself.”

He blushed slightly muttering a sorry as he handed you the water bottle.

So you sat like that, his hands never leaving you while he caught you up on what had happened since you were out. Avoiding the topic of the accident because neither of you were ready to rip off that bandaid yet.

Your conversation was cut short by a banging on the door. Bakugo groaned and went to go answer it. Periodically turning around to look at you. Almost like he was checking you were still there. He flung the door open, “WHAT?!”

There was a very nervous Kirishima rubbing the back of his neck raw, “Okay listen man I have some bad news, but I’m going to need you to stay calm because we’re going to fix it I promise... but... uh... Y/nIsMissingAndWeDontKnowWhereSheWent....” He flinched like he was ready for Bakugo to blow up. But instead Bakugo just laughed. “Oh shit he's really lost it.”

“Oi shitty hair, you can relax, she's okay she’s here. She teleported. We’ll head back soon so they can officially discharge her and give us her medication.”

Kirishima looked like he was going to faint with relief, “Oh thank god. They only sent me because I’m indestructible. They really thought you were going to rampage. You should have seen it. First she’s mumbling in her sleep right?  Next thing we all know her eyes shot open and she was asking where you were. When no one could answer her she just teleported out. They were all panicking and running around looking for her. I’ll let them know she’s safe.”

You had snuck your way over to them with very wobbly legs, “Thank’s for checking on me Kiri!”

“Oi what the fuck do you think you’re doing?! Get your ass back in bed!”

You glared at your over protective boyfriend, “I've been in bed for... for...”

“Three weeks” Kiri filled in you.

“Thank you Kiri... Three weeks! I don't think it’ll kill me to stretch my legs!”

Kirishima bit his lip to keep from laughing, “Good to see you still got your spunk. Well I’ll leave you two love birds alone. Try not to kill each other.”

He realized that was not a good joke to make when Bakugo’s eyes bore into him, “Too soon.”

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

It had been two weeks since you woke up. The first week Katsuki refused to leave your side for more than 30 seconds. Everywhere you went he was right there behind you like a clingy shadow. He even took showers with you insisting it was “doctors orders”. It got real old real fast. You practically shoved him out the door the other day joking about how one of you needed to work or you wouldn't make rent and you just moved in. You still had nightmares, and any loud noise made you jump. Bakugo was trying really hard to not yell at you or be any added stress while you adjusted but you honestly hated the way he treated you like glass. Never in his life has he ever seen you as anything but strong and now he tip toes around you. That ends today.

You dressed up in your sexiest underwear and robe and waited for him on his....your bed. You kept forgetting you actually lived here now.

You heard his keys in the door and your heart started to race. “Hey baby I’m home! I was thinking about maybe making some stir fry for dinner. What do you think?” You took a deep breath and reminded yourself this was Bakugo... there was no reason to be nervous.

You stepped into the kitchen and tiptoed up to him. He had his nose buried in a grocery bag pulling out ingredients. You took the bag from his hand and put it on the counter. He froze when he saw what you were wearing.

“I think I’m hungry. But not for food.” You grabbed him by the belt loops and pulled him to you.

He smiled but his eyes gave him away. He looked nervous.

He cupped your cheeks and gave your forehead a kiss. “You look amazing babe. But you need to take your pills soon and you can't do that on an empty stomach.” He pulled away from you and went back to sorting the groceries on the counter in front of him.

You huffed and smacked him the back of the head.

“Oi! What was that for?” “You know what for! Other than our morning showers you won't touch me! And even then it’s not even sexual....” You don't know why but your were suddenly hit with a wave of insecurity. “Do you not find me attractive anymore...?”

He was at your side in an instant. He put one hand in your hair while the other one gripped your chin rubbing soothing circles on your cheek. “Are you crazy? of course I find you attractive! You are the single most beautiful women I’ve ever seen.”

Tears threatened to spill out, “Then why won't you touch me?”

He sighed as he thought carefully about what he said next. “I guess I’m just scared of hurting you. I’m the reason you were hurt in the first place and the thought of causing you any more pain... it... it drives me crazy. You just woke up from a medically induced coma only two weeks ago! I didn't want to do anything until you were ready!”

You looked up at him with needy eyes, “Well I’m ready now...”

And that's all it took. 

Bakugo’s lips crashed to yours as his hands gripped your ass. You knew you were needy but you had no idea you were this touch starved until the feeling of his hands on you practically made you melt. 

He pulled back just long enough to tell you to jump. You eagerly compiled as you wrapped you legs around his waist. He walked you over to the couch and laid you down. 

Your robe was long forgotten on the floor and his shirt and your bra was quickly joining it. Katsuki worshipped your body. He always had. He showered you with kisses starting at your neck and trailing downwards. He took his time with each of your breasts. Taking one nipple in his mouth while he rubbed the other between his fingers. He had you soaked and squirming with seconds. Your hips bucked up and he grunted as you made contact with his growing erection. 

He continues his path down briefly pausing to give every single one of your scars the softest kiss imaginable. You could see the pain fast through his eyes briefly. You wound your hands through his hair, “I’m okay baby. I’m here and I’m okay and I need you. Please.” 

He tugged your underwear off along with pants. He put his arms on either side of your face holding all of his weight off of you. lined himself up with your entrance and in one sweet snap of his hips you were seeing stars. His mouth covered yours as he swallowed your moans. He let you adjust before he set a slow, deep, rhythm. 

You’ve been dating for three months now, and you don't think you had ever had sex that want heated and rough. He was taking his time, showing you with every thrust how much he loved you. Even the moans you let out were soft. This wasn't fucking, this was making love. And the thought made your head spin. 

He leaned down and nibbled on your ear before whispering, “You’re so fucking beautiful. I want you to know that. You’re it for me. Do you understand me?” 

You pulled his head back to face you, “I understand. You’re it for me too. I couldn't do this with anyone else.” 

He smirked, “Damn right you couldn't.”

Yours hands made their way to his strong muscular back, “Now fuck me like you mean it Katsuki. I won't break I promise.” 

His dick twitched at your words before he picked up the pace. 

You both got lost in the sensations you both had been craving. He pounded into you relentlessly. Hitting the spot the way it seemed only he could. It wasn't long before you felt yourself unraveling. 

“Yeah thats it baby! Cum for me! Let go!” 

You were overtaken by the most intense, toe curling orgasm. 

You could feel Bakugo start to pull out but through your pants you yelled, “No cum inside me!” 

His hips stuttered a but before he finally released inside of you. 

He rolled to the side and pulled you on top of him so you could both fit on the couch. 

After he caught his breath he looked over to you and kissed your forehead, “That was probably the hottest thing you’ve ever said to me.” 

[torisfeather]

Flufftober 4 - Fake Dating

Prompt by @vex-bittys

Read it on fanfiction.net or AO3

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

Wooh, this one was not easy, but I managed to finish in time! It's the first time I'm writing fake dating, so I don't know if I did okay ^^'

Anyway, this one is Roman, Remus, Patton and Logan. So... Intruloroyality? I don't know at this point XD

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

Okay, you've got this, Roman thought, that night, at the dinner table, and showed his best smile for his grandma.

He felt so awful, and it felt like everyone at the table could tell how uncomfortable he was. He couldn't even look at his brother or their friends, Patton and Logan, for too long.

Which was bad, because he was supposed to be Patton's boyfriend.

It had started maybe a month ago. When their obnoxious homophobic aunt Beth had tried to introduce them to yet another girl she knew – a coworker's daughter, or cousin, or sister, it didn't matter.

At that point, Roman almost believed she had selective deafness. He and Remus had told her, over and over again, that they were gay, didn't want to meet girls, especially not when she was planning dates for them. Aunt Beth was still 100% convinced this was just a phase and that they could be "fixed".

So when she brought another miss-what's-her-name to their place without their consent, Remus had cracked and yelled: "You can't stay because we're having a gay orgy with our boyfriends tonight!"

Roman had honestly thought that would be enough. Surely their aunt wasn't around his brother enough to be used to the gross nonsense he blabbered all the time.

But it hadn't deterred her. The orgy part, at least, she realized was just a joke. "You don't have boyfriends," she had said, her chin raised in contempt. "I would have known already! You're single and you can give a chance to Natalia here."

"No offense, miss," Roman had said at the lady, who just nodded, looked quite bored. "We are not single. We're dating… uh…"

"Logan and Patton!" Remus panicked.

"Uh, yeah! You know, our classmates?"

"I thought you said they were dating each other?" Aunt Beth said, suspicious.

"No, we said they were dating us! Have you had your hearing checked, Auntie?" Remus asked, and cackled when Aunt Beth gasped in outrage. "What if a bee got inside your ear and started making a nest inside your skull, and that's why you never hear us?"

"Well, I hope you're happy for wasting such a nice girl's time!" she had cried, and promptly vacated the place, followed by the girl.

The twins had high-fived each other and then the rest of the night was spent arguing over what movie they were going to watch to celebrate.

But it couldn't be that simple, right?

Because the twin's mother was very close to Aunt Beth, and so had questioned her sons when she heard about their "boyfriends". Roman and Remus's mom was way more tolerant than her relative, but she was also a gossiper and she couldn't know it was a lie, or she's rat them out immediately. So the twins told her the exact same lie.

Their mother of course told all of her side of the family, as well as their father, who told his side of the family, and now all of their relatives thought they were dating their childhood friends.

So that wasn't ideal, and Roman thought of coming clean, or at least "breaking up", but Remus won him over arguing as long as they believed that, their aunt and any other relatives would stop trying to set them up with people. Which, honestly? Worth it.

And then winter break happened.

Every winter break, the twins and their parents would fly a couple states north, where their grandparents lived, and spend the holidays there with the rest of their family. And it was always expected from the younger people to bring any significant other at least once during that time.

They could have said Logan and Patton were too busy or had other plans, but the twins' grandparents were so adamant they contacted Logan and Patton's own parents to ask for them to join the family reunion, and not knowing anything about the situation, they all agreed on one week.

When they told Logan and Patton what the whole deal was, they were surprisingly calm about it. Logan, especially, thought this was one solution. Patton, of course, bless his little heart, wanted to come clean and apologize, but after Remus begged him not to unleash their aunt on them again, he took pity and agreed.

So Patton would pretend to be Remus's boyfriend, and Logan would act as Roman's. What could go wrong?

Several things, actually. Starting with everyone's ability to act. Roman, of course, was fine on that part. He was a theater kid and he knew what romance looked like. Patton was also pretty good at being all lovey-dovey, except he tended to look nervously at Logan whenever Remus tried something, because he was scared of Logan being jealous.

And Remus tried a LOT. He was a pervert pretending to romance a grey-asexual. And it showed.

As for Logan, well, he wasn't uncomfortable with Roman's flirting, but…

"Roman, your existence is greatly appreciated."

… He was the WORST actor Roman had ever met.

Okay, fine! It was fine! Their relatives were all kind of dumb anyway. The twins' parents didn't notice anything during the trip, and so far it seemed the charade was working.

Except, as days went by, another problem arose.

Roman had probably flirted a little too much. Or maybe it was all the time spent together. Or maybe it was from sleeping in the same bed.

In any case, he had started crushing on Logan.

Okay, not just on Logan. Patton too.

Which was a big no-no. No, you don't get a crush on childhood friends who are already dating each other. Especially in a situation where they are away from home, and thus already vulnerable and/or uncomfortable.

But he couldn't help it. To be fair, he had always been very close with the two. Just not that close. Not enough to notice how cute Patton's sleepy bed-head was, or how gentle Logan was when he was hesitant or stressed, or how warm Patton was when he was hugging him in the morning, or how hot Logan was with his glasses off.

Now he couldn't look at them without thinking "what if", and feeling itty-bitty butterflies in his tummy.

And he was certain everyone in the house could tell. And that was not how he was supposed to act right now.

So he kept his head low, trying not to draw attention to himself, which was very unlike him. And that night, at the dinner table, the boys had had enough.

"I apologize for interrupting, but I believe I have misplaced my phone and I am waiting for a very important call. May I leave the table?"

"Oh, of course Logan," their grandmother had said.

Logan stood and looked at Roman. "Would you mind helping me, Roman?"

"Uh…"

"Come on, you two hurry up, okay?" his cousin said.

Logan grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the corridor and up the stairs. Once they were out of hearing distance, he stopped and turned to Roman. "Now, please tell me what is bothering you."

"What? Nothing! I'm great, let's go look for your stupid phone…"

"Roman, in the past two days you have displayed an increase in signs of stress, you are not doing 'great'. And also, the phone thing was a falsehood."

Roman rolled his eyes. "Logan, just because you took a psychology class doesn't allow you to analyze me, and for the last time, I am okay. Now let's go back."

"I don't think that's right…" Patton's voice said from behind him.

Roman turned around and grimaced as Patton and Remus joined them. "Guys, seriously, you're making a big deal out of nothing!"

"Hey, I didn't say anything!" Remus argued. "You do look like you stuck a lightbulb up your ass and you're scared of it breaking at any point and turning your insides into a bloody purée, though."

"Great, super helpful bro…" Roman sighed. They were all looking at him, and they couldn't spend too much time or someone would come find them, and he couldn't tell them or he'd just make everyone feel bad, and it was all too much. He angrily ran his hands in his hair, pulling a couple time, closing his eyes. What the fuck was he supposed to do?!

"Okay, okay, let's calm down first…" Patton said, and now his hands were on his arms, and he was being so gentle. Roman let the others guide him into the closest room and sit him on the bed. "Now, it's okay Roman, you can tell us…"

"No…" he said stubbornly.

"Roman, we will love you no matter what the problem is, you can trust us!" Patton insisted.

"I promise, it's if funny, I will only tease you about it for two weeks!... Maybe a month."

"Remus, please! Roman, I promise it's safe to tell us."

"And, if I may add," Logan said, "we will help with the best of our abilities if at all possible."

Roman grabbed the pillow next to him and screamed as hard as he could into it. Eventually, it made him feel calm enough to look up at all the worried faces around him. He muttered something into his pillow.

"Ah, sorry, can you repeat that?" Patton asked.

"… I'm crushing on you and Logan. There, I said it, happy?"

Logan and Patton were agape for a moment, but Remus just shrugged. "Pff, me too, you're not special."

"What?"

"Bro, have you seen Logan's bare chest? He looks like a nerdy Edward Cullen. And Patton is the best cuddler in the world."

"How the fuck can you be so calm about this?!"

"It's just feelings, nobody's dead yet!"

"Yet?!"

"Okay, time out!" Logan asked, clapping his hands like a preschool teacher. "I think we need to assess the situation step by step…"

And then he stopped, because Patton was kissing Roman with all of his uncontrolled impulse. Remus cheered and kissed Logan, and for about two minutes there were nothing but kissing noises and sighs in the small room.

"So, um, does that mean you guys also…" Roman started, when his mouth was free again.

"For literal months," Logan admitted.

"That's so much time we have to make up for!" Remus cried.

"Agreed," Patton said, blushing. "We, um… We should go back, everyone's still waiting."

Roman's eyes widened and he fell back on the bed dramatically, hiding his face in his hands. "How the fuck are we going to tell them?!"

[sotheywrotestories]

Dollar Valentine and the Problems With Plans

Request; Nope! Just my Dollar Valentine for the magnificent @softscottlang

Pairings: Peter Parker x Reader

Warnings: Little bit of angst in the beginning but then teeth rotting fluff

Summary: Peter freaks out trying to get (Y/N) the perfect gift

Valentine’s day was here and Peter had no idea what he was going to do for (Y/N). They had been dating for a while now, but not long enough for him to really know her….

He was worried, to say the least. She had always been so great when it came to gifts, but he felt that he hardly knew her at all.

Was that just how their relationship was? Was he destined to never know enough about her to really make a difference in how he treated her? How had she always been so great when it came to giving gifts? He was sure he hadn’t ever mentioned his love of Star Trek before, but she gave him a great encyclopedia of, collectively, every bit of information.

Ned was no help, as he didn’t know her either. They sat together at lunch a lot, but that didn’t mean he knew anything about her. It was only when Peter wasn’t there that Ned and (Y/N) could really talk about anything, but it was rare Peter didn’t want to be around (Y/N).

Which made sense she was the most beautiful girl he had ever known.

The only other person Peter could think of was MJ. Her and (Y/N) were always talking and laughing (MJ laughing was a strange sight). But Peter was scared. Today was Valentine’s day, if he went up to MJ now, she would know that Peter didn’t have anything and that he was a lousy boyfriend. He couldn’t have MJ thinking he was such a bad boyfriend. It would look bad and (Y/N) just meant so much to him.

So he did what he does when he doesn’t know what to do, he went to Tony.

“You didn’t get your girlfriend anything for Valentine’s day?” Tony laughed into the phone. “At all? Not even a box of chocolates?”

“I panicked. I thought I would know what to do by now,” Peter sighed, he was using his lunch break to see if Tony had any ideas for Valentine’s day. He only had half an hour and he didn’t want (Y/N) to be suspicious of anything. “I don’t know what to do, she’s coming over for dinner tonight.”

“How much time will you have?”

“An hour and a half? Maybe?” Peter groaned, throwing his face into his palm.

“That’s plenty of time to cook up a quick dinner, set up a movie, and have a nice night in. Pick up some flowers on your way home,” Tony said. “From what you’ve told me about her, and you talk a lot, she doesn’t seem to be someone who is all about materialistic things.”

“Okay,” Peter said, calming down a bit. “I can do that, thanks, Mr. Stark.”

Tony spit out a quick goodbye, letting Peter hang up.

Peter felt much better now. Yeah, (Y/N) didn’t need something fancy, a nice relaxing night in would be nice. They could both use one right now.

“So, Peter,” Ned approached Peter in the hall. “Got anything figured out?”

“I’m going to try cooking something, grab some flowers, and just have a nice night in.”

Ned gave a small, sympathetic smile. “Well, it’s the thought that counts.”

“Hey,” Peter frowned. “I think it’ll be nice to have a nice night in.”

“Hey, nerds,” MJ said, walking up to her own locker. “(Y/N)’s really tired, so we’re gonna skip fifth period to take a nap in the library.”

Peter raised his eyebrows at Ned as if to say ‘See? A night in would be nice.’

Ned shrugged, still thinking about the three teddy bears and necklace he had bought for Betty.

“Okay, I’ll get notes for her,” Peter smiled, happy to hear his girlfriend was doing what was good for her health and not what was good for her reputation.

“Cool, see you guys in seventh.” MJ walked away, heading to the library.

“If (Y/N)’s that tired,” Peter turned to Ned. “It’ll be good to have a night off.”

Ned shrugged, following Peter as he made his way to fifth period. It made sense that (Y/N) was tired, anyway. Chemistry was being a pain, and it was right after lunch, of course, all she wanted to do was nap.

In no way did Peter condone her skipping school, he really wanted her to succeed, but taking one class off to take a quick, healthy nap wouldn’t be awful.

History was boring as always, but Peter had a good time, writing two sets of notes. He tried to make (Y/N)’s notes far more legible than his, he did want her to be able to pick up from where she left off.

Ned had a small smirk on his face the entire time, happy to see Peter so involved with something that wasn’t Spider-Man.

Peter didn’t have sixth period with (Y/N) or MJ or Ned. It was the one class he had that was very lonely. But he persisted through, knowing he and his friends had the next class together.

***

“How was your nap, sunshine?” Peter teased, slinging an arm around (Y/N).

She was already sitting in the classroom, her head sitting heavily on her hand while her elbow supports her forearm. She and MJ had been talking about some new band, someone Peter didn’t listen to.

“Great,” she sighed, leaning her head on his shoulder. “Still tired, though.”

Peter smiled, pressing a soft, quick kiss onto the top of her head.

Her sleepiness only built his confidence in his new plans.

Ned joined the trio shortly after, and class started. Peter had to keep his arm off of (Y/N) to work, but she was still sitting next to him, so he didn’t mind so much.

“Okay, I’ll be over around 4,” (Y/N) said, Peter standing by her locker while she put her books away. “Does that work for you?”

Peter smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s great. Just text me when you’re on your way.”

“Okay,” she smiled back. “Walk me to the station?”

***

Peter definitely had the same skills as May did when it came to cooking. He had burned through two boxes of spaghetti already, somehow burned a simple “put it in the oven ready” pie, and managed to get the microwave to stop working.

He was on the verge of calling Tony, but (Y/N) was supposed to be there in half an hour and he wouldn’t have time to call Tony.

“May, I’m ordering Chinese, do you want anything?” Peter called, on the verge of tears.

“Peter?” May walked into the kitchen. “Chinese? What happened to cooking dinner?”

“I mess up,” Peter shrugged. “So I’m just going to order Chinese, I need to set up the living room, anyway.”

“Okay,” May smoothed Peter’s hair down. “I’ll call in the order-yes, I remember what (Y/N) likes, you go get your little ‘movie fort’ ready, okay?”

Peter nodded, rushing to get as many blankets as he could, laying out some of his hoodies for (Y/N) to choose from. And, of course, Star Trek was placed on the coffee table, but he also picked out some of (Y/N)’s favorites, too.

Harry Potter was already in the DVD player.

Just then, Peter’s phone buzzed.

On my way ;), (Y/N) had sent.

“(Y/N)’s on her way!” Peter shouted.

“Chinese will be here in twenty!” May yelled back. “All ready for movie night?”

“I think so,” Peter spun around. “I’m going to change into some comfy clothes, be right back.”

Just a quick swing around the block. Just to make sure nothing too suspicious was going on.

Not that there was normally, but still.

A quick trip turned into a forty-five-minute escapade to stop a mugger.

“Shit,” Peter fell through his window, tugging his suit off and jumping into sweatpants.

He rushed into the living room, where (Y/N) had clearly already eaten, and was watching the first Harry Potter movie.

“Pete?” her sleepy voice called from the other side of the couch. “You home?”

“Sorry I’m so late, uh, here,” he shoved the bouquet of flowers into her hands.

“Thanks, Peter,” (Y/N) smiled.

Peter was overly happy to see her, wearing sweatpants that were definitely his, his oversized black sweatshirt that was nearly ten times too big on her, and her hand mussed up.

“How was the city? Free of crime? Everyone okay?” she asked, placing her bouquet on the table. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m fine,” Peter sighed, kissing her forehead. “I am really sorry.”

“For being late?” (Y/N) knit her eyebrows. “Pete, it’s okay, I’m used to it, it’s for a good cause.”

“No…I mean, I didn’t get you a gift…I was supposed to cook your dinner, but I messed up so much so I just ordered Chinese.”

“Oh my god,” (Y/N) frowned, pulling away from Peter and throwing her face into her hands. “I’m the worst girlfriend ever.”

“What?” Peter reached over to wrap up (Y/N) in a blanket. “What are you on about?”

“I didn’t get you anything,” (Y/N) looked back up. “I totally forgot today was Valentine’s day…I didn’t get you anything, Peter I’m so sorry.”

Peter stared at (Y/N) for a long moment, catching the slight bit of fear in her eyes. Then, he started laughing. He was laughing and he knew that that wasn’t the best reaction but it was just so funny.

“(Y/N) neither of us got each other anything, I think we can call it fair and move on,” Peter said, kissing her quickly. “C’mere, let’s cuddle and we’ll call that my gift, okay?”

“Are you sure?” (Y/N) pulled away again, grabbing Peter’s hand to play with it. “I feel really bad.”

“I have been worried all day about not getting you anything for Valentine’s day,” Peter let (Y/N) in on his panic. “But I would rather you get sleep, stay healthy, than worry about not getting me anything. You being happy is the best thing in the world.”

(Y/N) smiled, tears of relief flooding her eyes.

“Thank you. I’m so tired, Pete,” she smiled.

“Well, c’mere, let’s take a nap.”

Peter pulled (Y/N) onto his chest, laying her head on his chest and playing with her hair. Her attention was on the screen, so happy with the movie Peter had picked, but he was more focused on doing everything he could to make her fall asleep.

“I love you,” Peter whispered, kissing the top of (Y/N)’s head.

“I love you, too,” (Y/N)’s raspy voice whispered back before she placed a kiss on his shoulder. “Thank you, Peter.”

And yeah, he hadn’t got her anything for Valentine’s day, but that didn’t make him a bad boyfriend.

Tags:  @thatcluelessone @ima-fucking-nerd  @embrace-themagic @fireboltrose5737@whatdafricklefrackle@peeterparkr @sherlokiantheatrenerd @legit-fandom-trash @abitchformarvel

[ruinfell]

[DRABBLE] A Talk in the Woods

There was a cool breeze out that night – not too chill, or too bustly. A nice time for a walk, and it wasn't like the cold bothered skeletons much anyway. The woods were not wholly barren, and, with the spring air beginning to drift in, the woodlands' residents were awakening and returning.

Papyrus had taken to walking the woods more often lately, but he had asked his brother to accompany him this time. He didn't say as much, but he desired to talk with him, and he picked up on that well enough with his sibling intuition.

It had been a while since they'd really sat down and talked, and Papyrus was nervous. Sans picked up on that well enough, but didn't address it immediately. He remembered how poorly their last real heart to heart had gone, before they officially made the move to the surface-bound timeline. Sans still hadn't grown accustomed to their new home, and rarely spent time here, but he was trying.

"We can stop for a sec if you want," Papyrus suggested, halting and spinning on his heels to face Sans, who trailed behind him sluggishly. They'd kept a slow pace, but they had still gone quite far. "I got a couple thermoses. Thermii?? Of hot chocolate."

Sans was not tired, but… he appreciated the concern, and Papyrus actually addressing him. The silence had been awkward. It, faintly, distantly, reminded him of being led through the wartorn woods on a chain. He did not wish to be in that position again, of being led on a chain, wherever his brother went, with no say and no real agency.

"... yeah, sure." Sans took a seat on a nearby stump. His brother sat nearby on a log, and handed him a thermos, while pulling out his own, popping the cap and taking a decent swig of it.

Skeletons did not have to worry about burning their tongues or scalding their throats so much, seeing as they did not have throats, and did not always have tongues. But they could still indulge in the warmth that hot drinks invited, and the way it could cool nerves, though they lacked those too.

Papyrus spent a moment taking in that warmth, and holding it, before he dared let any of the cold back in by speaking.

"Bro? Can I ask you something?"

Sans knew something was coming, but chose to hold off on answering the question until he'd warmed his palms, and then his jaws and neck, with the welcome beverage. "it's about us staying here, yeah?" That was his guess. Why talk about it here, and now, of all times and places?

"... Yeah. Are you actually okay with this?"

Sans was a little taken aback, his jaw shifting in consideration, and his back straightening from its near ever-present hunch. "why wouldn't I be?"

"Humans, for a start." Papyrus was well aware that was a problem for both of them. "Not gonna pretend I don't get freaked out but uh. My symptoms are probably a lil' easier to manage."

Sans frowned. "i'm not gonna dog out in a mall and start killin' people, pap. i've been dog shoppin' before."

He assumed he would be fine, even if there was more than a little thread of doubt, and quite a hefty chunk of worry dangling at the end of it - he didn't know how well his emotions would be kept in check in such a situation for certain. He knew that war overwhelmed him at a near constant, to the point where it took years for him to regain any normalcy, by seemingly sheer chance.

Papyrus had a great many more concerns, and would come back to that one later. It wasn't the biggest concern, after all.

"I don't wanna keep leadin' you around like you ain't got a choice in it, Sans."

The elder brother very much did not enjoy when his younger sibling took words from his head like that, though he knew full well that at times they may as well be bound twins, and thus privy to reading each other so well. He fully blamed that on how they came to be, though he had no evidence of such.

He shifted a bit on his stump, legs dangling, and heels kicking into the bark in an uncomfortable rhythm. "but that's the thing. i don't. not if i wanna keep up with you."

"But you--"

Papyrus halted his exclamation suddenly. He stared at his brother, swallowing the words that hadn't made it past his teeth, and letting them reform in a moment.

"... You don't have to keep up with me, dude." The weight and gravity of his tone came from its sobriety now, and not its volume. "This isn't like, some thing like with Sunny and Sleepy. I'm not gonna disappear and be a different person one day. You're not gonna forget or lose me. Not as long as we actually talk."

Sans was fortunate for that gravity. Without it, had there been any inch of panic, he would have caught onto it and amplified it, it would have rattled between the walls of his rib cage and grown and grown until it burst from him a thousand fold too large for it. That was the true nature of his curse, and something he had yet to fully shake.

His gaze didn't lift from his thermos, but his legs slowly came to a stop. There was a bit of a sniff.

"If you wanted to shack up in the café timeline, I don't think Sunny would mind. If you feel more comfortable there. Or, hell-- I'm sure Dad would be okay with you staying there too. You don't gotta force yourself to be somewhere that makes you feel uncomfortable."

Sans' grip on his thermos tightened a little, though, fortunately, there was no threat of it being crushed. He simply needed that extra bit of grip, to stay his hands from shaking.

He was safe, for now at least. But he knew the anxiety was welling up in him. He didn't want to disturb this place. He didn't want to lose control of himself when—

"but you're forcin' yourself, pap. you're scared." He could tell, even having not seen the way his brother had worried over applications and spilled his anxieties to his adoptive guidance. "but you're bravin' through it. and i get it. but i'm just not brave like you are. i just deal."

The taller skeleton's face became yet more grave, and his teeth clicked together in a frown, wordless for a time. It was true, he was forcing himself, and he was scared. The fact that he was facing surface life with humans, despite being afraid, meant he could not refute being brave, much as he didn't think himself such. But he could refute that his brother was not also brave, and perhaps more so than he was.

After a good solid minute of thought, Papyrus stood, walked over to his brother's stump, and sat next to him atop it.

"I don't think you're givin' yourself much credit, Sans. Ya forget it's you who took that soul, instead of me?" He nudged the shorter skeleton with his elbow, against the red sweater, about where said soul would be resting. "Even before that. So what if you're not brave the exact same way I am? Don't mean you're not. We're not the same. Even if people like pointin' out how much we got in common with the bastard who made us, heh."

Papyrus took a long swig of his thermos, enough to drain it, and it gave Sans time to really think. His younger brother, he often considered, was the lesser of experience, at least in overall years, but maybe not of wisdom. Sans secluded himself a lot, mostly out of fear and distrust of others, but largely out of fear and distrust of himself. That removed him from a lot of opportunity for experience, and meant Papyrus could catch up — not just catch up, but overtake him.

"you're startin' to sound like one of those fuckin' cwote posts, bro. lay off the tumblr." There was a bit of a smirk from him.

"Oh my god… Anything but that." Papyrus snickered a bit, though that gravity lessened none. "Seriously though. No one minds you bein' around. People want you around. I want you around, and to fuckin’-- have a chance at the surface, y’know? But not if it's gonna fuckin' blow your soul out from anxiety."

It was weird. Sans had always been the one worrying about his brother. It was always his focus in life, his one real purpose. Things had gone astray since their colliding with the multiverse, granted, and a few others had gained his worry, but never to the same degree of his brother. It wasn't just a purpose that Gaster had granted him upon his brother's birth: it was a purpose he fully adopted within his own heart and mind.

He knew that other people had worried for him before. People did care about him. He'd barely heeded them. He'd never really felt like he mattered, not to himself, not if his brother was okay, so it was difficult to believe he mattered to anyone else.

It was weird, that Papyrus worried so much for him. But his heavy, heavy heart, felt lighter for it. The logic felt right; if he actually started taking himself into account, started to look out and after himself in some way… would that help his brother be more okay, too?

Would caring for his own self, be an act of caring for his brother?

It always went back to him. 'You don't have to keep up with me' came back to haunt him from moments before, and he sighed his hectic thoughts out slowly through his nasal cavity. His mind was moving a little too fast; maybe it was trying to stay ahead, rather than keep up.

Papyrus, intuitive as he was, could tell that something was amiss. He let go of his thermos with one hand and wrapped the arm around Sans' shoulders, pulling him into a half-hug.

"You don't gotta figure it all out right this second, dude. Just… figure yourself into the equations while ya do."

"... yeah. i guess." He didn't sound enthusiastic, but he had not stopped thinking just yet. It'd wind down slowly, it had to, because sudden change panicked him.

"And for my part, I'll try to stop runnin' into shit so much without tellin' ya. Like, I'll let you know when I get this job shit figured out, keep you up on my schedules when I do…" Papyrus' cup was stowed in his inventory, and he stood up from the stump. "Y'know, actually try to keep ya in the loop, heh. I know I suck at doin' that, and it don't really help."

Sans gave a small smile, and little disagreement-- but no teasing, this time. He appreciated the effort. He hadn't felt like they'd been able to talk this frankly in a very, very long time.

[hamilton-aus-blog]

Jamilams fluff for @immigrantphenomenon

Alexander was on his third pot of coffee. He was writing Thomas Jefferson and John Laurens a letter. Over the last few years, the small man had found his love for these two men growing faster and faster. The only issue was that Alexander could not figure out how to ask them both out. He wanted a polyamorous relationship with them but he didn't know how open the two southern were open to it. He pulled out his phone to check the time. It was three am. He was going through his contacts to see if John or Thomas would pick up. He started scrolling and then his thumb accidentally hit a contact that was named dad. Alexander panicked and immediately hung up. He decided to set his phone aside and went back to typing. About two hours had passed when his phone went off the contact name was: dad. Alex let out a sigh and picked up the phone.

"Son why did you call me at three am this morning. Are you not getting sleep? Do me and Martha need to come out there to make sure you are sleeping. How much coffee have you drunk? When was the last time you slept? Martha and I are coming up there right now" Alexander rolled his eyes.

"George we have gone over this, I am not your son. And I called you by accident. I was just looking through my contacts-"

"Oh? Were you going to call John?" Alex rolled his eyes.

"Or was it Thomas?" Martha said all giddy. Alex groaned and rolled his eyes. Both of them knew about his crushes and they each picked a sided. It was like team Edward or Team Jacob and I was Bella, just gay and with a better personality.

"Whatever. Look I have been doing fine I got some sleep on Tuesday night and-"

"Son today is Friday." Alex looked down on the date displayed on his computer.

"Oh..."

"That's it we are coming over," Martha shouted.

"She isn't bluffing she is packing the bags," George said.

"We will be there in a few hours. Why don't you get some sleep? Maybe you can have John-" 

"And Thomas" Martha yelled.

"Over for dinner tonight. Martha and I can cook while you get some rest and freshen up"

"We are going to go see Alex?!" Lafayette yelled really excitedly. George groaned.

"Lafayette it is five in the morning keep your voice down," Alex chuckled.

"Okay, I will text them and ask. Then I will get some sleep. Or try to at least."

"Okay goodbye son we'll see you later"

"Don't call me-" George hung up. Alex sighed and looked at his letter to the two men.

' My dearest, Laurens, and Jefferson,

I have found myself falling for you, both of you. The first second that I saw both of you I thought I had died and was going to heaven. I never thought that heaven would have sent their two beautiful angels for me. I was always too embarrassed to tell you two anything. At first, I felt like a whore wanting to be with both of you at the same time but now I don't care if it makes me a whore or slut. None of that means anything to me if I could have both of you. I love the both of you so much and Its hard to find the words to tell you I love you because any time I try I become a stuttering mess and then I get frustrated and then I cry and then I get even angrier. And even writing this I get so angry because I can't say what I want to say and I just want to tell you guys how much I love you and I want to have both of you and I just am so selfish. I also know you two are perfect together. I know about your secret relationship... I saw or rather heard you to in the midst of a hot makeout session one night late at work. And I am Jealous of what you guys have and I am sorry but. Now I am getting too emotional. So I will end this now. If I may I would like to be a part of your relationship. I love you."  

Alex sighed and shakily got up. He took the numerous fast food and take out bags that have accumulated his apartment and threw them away. He was not the healthiest but he had to save money. You know the freshman 15, well for Hamilton it was more like the freshman 30. At first, he was really self-conscious about his weight but now he loves his squishy tummy and thighs. He walked into his bedroom and basically faceplanted on the bed and passed out.

"Hey get up sleepy head!" Alex groaned as he looked up at Lafayette who looked way too happy.

"Let me sleep" Alex groaned. Lafayette had other plans.

"Nope, you have been sleeping for 10 hours its time for you to wake up!" Alex yawned and got up out of bed.

"Jésus putain, tu ressembles à de la merde avez-vous eu un rendez-vous avec la mort ou quelque chose. Oh et l'odeur" (Jesus fucking christ you look like shit. did you have a date with death or something. Oh and the smell) Lafayette fell dramatically to the floor. 

"Language young man!" George screamed.

"French" Lafayette screamed back. "I am 18 now you don't control me!"

"Lafayette I will give you two seconds to apologize to your father. 1-"

"I am sorry dad" George smiled.

"Alex get into the shower now you smell like death" Martha started barking orders. She was sweet until things needed to get done. Then she turned into a drill Sargent. Alex walked into the bathroom and got ready for the day he was about to have.

John and Thomas arrived at the apartment together. Alex had texted them ten minutes ago to come over to the house because his family was here and he forgot to text them earlier. The two had shared a laugh at Alexanders forgetfulness. 

"AHHHH they are here!!" Lafayette screamed running to the door. John and Thomas broke down laughing by the time the door was opened by Alexander who was holding an overexcited french man.

"Thank you guys for coming" Alex smiled moving aside to let the two in the apartment.

"Oh Thomas John I am so glad you could make it, Alex why don't you finish helping me and your dad in the kitchen while Lafayette talks to the boys." Alex didn't bother objecting knowing that his efforts would be futile. Lafayette drug the boys to the living room sitting them down on the couch.

"You two are polyamorous right?" Lafayette asked the two not bothering to ease into the conversation that they were about to have.

"Um yeah? Why are you questioning yourself or something?" John asked looking at the man who looked like he was about to explode from happiness.

"Nope but I found this letter on Alex's desk and I think you two should totally read it!" Lafayette handed the two the love letter Alexander had stayed up writing. Thomas was the first to react.

"That was wow, so out of character for him, who knew little hammy could be so sweet and flustered." John nodded then smirked and leaned over to Thomas and whispered something in his partner, and much to Lafayette's dismay he couldn't hear them. Alex came in holding plates in his hands.

"I am not sure what Martha was thinking with having dinner here since I do not own a dining room table, but here's the food. John smiled and scooted to the other side of the couch making room between him and Thomas for Alex to sit.

"Why don't you sit between us?" Alex nodded and smiled, his heart racing.

"I have something to show you guys after everyone leaves," Alex said. John and Thomas smiled at each other.

"Okay, do you mind if we stay the night tonight?" Alex's heart seemed to do a flip in his chest.

"Yeah, of course, you guys can!" Lafayette had a cocky smirk plastered on his face. George and Martha came into the living room and sat down on the love seat.

"it's so good to see you, boys, again. Alex talks about you two all of the time. It is so hard to get him to shut up" Martha said laughing. Alex started blushing.

"I remember when Alex came out to us as bisexual and when we asked about his crushes he told us-" Alex spoke up.

"Not this story" George laughed.

"I wasn't going to tell them who. But anyway Martha, Lafayette and I all have bets on who he is going to start dating." Alex looked up at George in shock.

[takecxver-blog]

They Don’t Know - Michael

So this is my first post on this new blog… eep. Hope you like it. I had that super old One Direction song in my head while writing this and I’m not even a that big fan of them but it fit so whatever… idk. Also lowkey inspired by Good Girls (that one line is cringy I know I couldn’t resist). Flashbacks in italics.

Everyone will say they know about your relationship. The ‘bad boy’ and the ‘nerd’. They just know what they’ve seen and heard. Michael driving you to school and walking you to class, you sometimes wearing his leather jacket, that one time you got detention for being late (“it’s that boy’s bad influence on her, she’s never been slightly late before” - your chem teacher while shaking his head), you failing a test and being grounded (again, his bad influence, according to your dad). In reality, they knew a fraction of what they thought they did. For example, how you met.

You sighed, looking around nervously before pulling a crumpled packet of marlboro reds from your backpack and pressing one in-between your lips. It was a habit you’d picked up from the stress of studying for finals, your dad’s pressure to get into Harvard and all nighters. Staying late in the library every night had been his idea, and you weren’t one to argue. Fumbling in the bottom of your bag for your lighter, you cursed when you realised exactly where it was: in the hoodie pocket you’d used when you had a cigarette outside yesterday before your dad got in from work.

“Need a light?” You jumped at the unfamiliar voice and looked up to see Michael Clifford offering a lighter matching the current bright red of his hair. The school had long given up telling him not to dye it anymore. You’d always thought he was pretty cool, if a little irresponsible.

“Sure.” You took the lighter and lit the cigarette, taking in a long drag and exhaling in relief. Handing him back the lighter, you offered a smile. “Thanks.”

“No worries, you looked like you needed it.”

“You can say that again.”

“You looked like you needed it.” He smirked. Rolling your eyes, you took another drag and watched as he pulled out his own packet and lit up.

“Are you always this annoying?”

“Are you always this annoying?”

“Seriously, what are you, five?”

“Seriously, what are you, five?” You shook your head, laughing.

“You’re something else, I swear.”

“Don’t swear, it’s offensive! I’ll tell on you!”

“Oh no, anything but that, please!” You pretended to fake cry.

“Can you keep it down, some people are trying to study. And put those death sticks out, or I will tell on you!” A girl called from inside the library, then slammed the window behind her. It rattled in it’s frame and Michael shushed it, making you laugh even more.

“So what are you doing out here behind a library, doesn’t seem like you?” You asked after a while.

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, (Y/N), I could be here studying.” He retorted, making you snort. “Okay fine, I was dragged here by Mr Higgins for extra math tutoring. He thinks I’m in the toilet. What about you, miss goody two shoes, smoking, doesn’t seem like you?”

“Don’t judge a book by it’s cover, Michael.” You repeated, grinning. “And anyway, good girls are bad girls that haven’t been caught.” Stubbing out your cigarette, you winked at him before disappearing back inside.

He’d appeared by your side as you left that evening, offering you a ride home. It beat taking the bus, so you agreed, chatting pleasantly the entire ride to your house. When he pulled up outside, he asked for your number, and you found it hard coming up with reasons to refuse. He began texting you memes within the hour and you knew you’d made the right decision.

One thing people did get right about your relationship, though, was how protective of you he was. Practically the whole school had witnessed it nearly eight months into your relationship.

You stood outside your school, waiting for Michael. He insisted on picking you up, since it was still winter, and so pitch black by the time you finished school at four o’clock. And hey, you weren’t going to complain about not having to wait for the bus in the dark and cold, plus getting to see your boyfriend was a bonus. He’d gotten suspended for refusing to take out his new eyebrow piercing, so you hadn’t seen much of him the past week except for five minutes when he drove you home. But tonight was your weekly date night. Your dad hadn’t been too happy when you’d told him you had a boyfriend, as it would ‘impact your studies negatively’, and he was even less thrilled when you introduced him to Michael, not liking his appearance or grades in the slightest. After a few ‘loud discussions’ though, he’d come to accept it. You had a strict curfew of six that he extended by an hour every Wednesday, and you’d never broken it (at least not that he knew of). You’d been texting Michael all day, and were honestly so excited for the new chocolate fudge sundae from the ice cream place in town. Skipping one or two study sessions wouldn’t hurt.

“I bet your boyfriend thinks he’s so badass, doesn’t he?” You raised an eyebrow as you turned to see one of the douchey guys from your english class, Josh. He was popular and pretty much a fuckboy. He was also butthurt because Michael had called him out in class last week for calling a girl a slut, and then given him a black eye when he confronted him when he came to pick you up yesterday.

“If you’re talking about him kicking your ass, you deserved it.” You said, turning back around, only to be stopped by a hand on your shoulder.

“Ooh, kitty’s got claws.”

“Yeah, and I’m about to claw your eyes out if you don’t let go of me and fuck off.”

“Oh, come on sweetheart, I was just playing.” He raised his hands in mock surrender. You shot him a tight smile and spun around to see Michael, leaning against the hood of his car, smirking. He walked over and wrapped an arm around your waist, kissing your cheek in greeting.

“Hey love, good day?”

“Not too bad, relieved that it’s over though.” You smiled.

“Ah cool, this asswipe’s not bothering you, is he?”

“She threatened me!” Josh exclaimed. “I was just asking her a question and the little sl-”

“If you’re looking for a black eye to match the first one, finish that sentence, I dare you.” Michael’s tone hardened as he glared at Josh.

“What? The little slut threatened me?” The asshole smirked, reaching over to brush your hair behind your ear. The next thing you knew he was being held against the wall by his collar.

“Don’t fucking touch her. I know you’re not exactly the smartest, but trying to get to me through her is probably the stupidest thing you’ve done yet.” Michael growled. By now a crowd had gathered around the three of you, attracting the attention of a couple of teachers.

“Mr Clifford! Let go of him this instant!”

“Mikey, c’mon, he’s not worth it.” You pleaded, not wanting him to get suspended for longer than he already was. Michael sighed and dropped Josh to the floor. He turned around and reached for your hand, only to freeze when he spoke again.

“Yeah, Mikey, your little slut needs attention.” Needless to say, Josh ended up with a second black eye and you spent the next two hours sitting outside the principal’s office. The ice cream place closed at five.

“I’m sorry, love. I know you wanted to go to that ice cream place tonight. We can go Saturday, I promise. Are you okay?” Michael said, squeezing your hand as you sat on the uncomfortable plastic chairs.

“I’m fine, just annoyed that I’m gonna have to wash my hair again, I only washed it this morning. Or maybe I should just bleach it like yours instead?” He was giggling until he was called into the office.

“I really am sorry.” Michael said as you walked out to his car at half six.

“Hey, it’s okay. That was so boring though, I need a cig. Plus, we still have time to make out in the backseat of your car.”

“Fuck, I love you.”

Badass. That was pretty much everyone’s view of Michael. They didn’t know how sweet he could be, or how much of a dork he was.

“Okay, you can open your eyes.” Michael removed the beanie from over the top half of your face (you didn’t have the heart to tell him you could see through it the entire time). You were in his bedroom/basement, and you had to give him credit, it looked amazing. Fairy lights were strung all about the room, and there was a very inviting blanket fort in the middle of the room, over the small sofa, facing the TV. On further inspection, you saw pizza, a tub of your favourite ice cream, and a bunch of movies inside the fort. “Happy anniversary, love.”

“Mikey, this awesome!” You exclaimed, running to get comfortable.

“Really?” He asked, crawling in next to you. You knew he was slightly insecure that he couldn’t take you out to some fancy restaurant for your second anniversary, his job in this alternate coffee shop wasn’t the best pay. But you couldn’t care less, this was thoughtful and adorable and way more fun than sitting in some posh restaurant all night.

“Yes!” You giggled, proceeding to tell him all the reasons why this is the best kind of date. Plus, it was Saturday, so you had all day to yourselves. Most of that day may or may not have been spent feeding each other pizza and making out.

Deadpool had just finished, and you were having a hard time staying awake. It was half five, and you were just so warm and comfortable wrapped up in Michael’s arms as he played with your hair and dropped kisses onto your forehead. Surely you could nap for a little bit? Michael would wake you up when he had to drop you home.

Bad decision. You shot up at 6am and, after checking your phone, panicked. “Fuck, fuck, fuck! Mikey, get up!” You shook your boyfriend. Normally, his adorable, sleepy face would melt you, but right now you were too panicked by the missed calls and texts waiting for you. “Michael!”

“W-What?” He yawned, sitting up. “What’s wrong, love?”

“What’s wrong is that we fell asleep and I was supposed to be home twelve hours ago!” He perked up, suddenly much more awake.

“Shit.”

“Shit is right. I’m gonna die. My dad’s gonna kill me. It was nice knowing you.”

“Hey, hey.” Michael wrapped his arms around you, seeing tears in your eyes. “This is the first time you’ve ever been late. Text him now and explain, I’ll drive you home and we can talk to him. It’s gonna be alright, I’m gonna be right there with you the whole time, love, I promise. C’mon, deep breaths.”

“Okay, yeah. He’ll understand, right?” You sighed, and Michael nodded, kissing you softly.

“Let’s go.”

Turns out you had nothing to worry about. Sure, your dad was initially angry, but after you explained (and nearly cried), he calmed down, and just told you not to let it happen again. Which is why you’re currently biting your lip, debating on whether to sneak out and see Michael on a school night when you’ve got an exam tomorrow. It’s not the first time you’ve done it, and you’ve never been caught, but this exam is a really big deal. Sure, your place at Harvard, still your dream school, is pretty much secured for September, but this is in the thing you’re going to be minoring in (your major is chemistry upon your dad’s request), your true passion, art. A text comes through, jolting you out of your reminiscing.

from: mikey ♥

I know you’ve got your art exam in the morning, but that stuff comes naturally to you. It’s why you should be majoring in it, love. You don’t need to study for something you’re already amazing at.

Fuck it, you think, grabbing a hoodie (Michael’s) and some sneakers. Even after two and a half years, you never were good at saying no to him. Climbing out of your window and down the conveniently placed tree, you jog over to Michael’s car and jump in.

“Hey, love.” He greets you with a kiss and you giggle.

“Just drive, Mikey.”

[chasingthecosmos]

By Any Other Name

Fandom: Doctor Who Rating: G Pairing: The Doctor/Rose Tyler, Eleventh Doctor/Rose Tyler (The Doctor/Clara Oswald, Eleventh Doctor/Clara Oswald) Chapters: 5/26 Read on AO3 here.

“Rose Tyler was dying - or, at least, she was relatively certain that that’s what was happening …” A Season 7 AU where Rose returns to her home universe only to find that 100 years have passed and nothing is quite the way that she remembers it. She wakes up with a new body, a new life, and a new Doctor. What has the Bad Wolf gotten her into this time? Rating may go up as the story continues

Rose felt sick to her stomach. Over a century - over a century he had been wandering around without her. Would he even remember who she was if she ever got around to telling him? She realized suddenly that she couldn't begrudge him that strange, dark look in his eyes - nor could she hate him for the way he so easily flirted with other girls. A hundred years was enough to change any man. She just wondered what sort of man he had changed into ...

The Doctor seemed to take Rose's shocked expression for the normal human response to his extended lifespan and he smiled knowingly down at her as he announced, "I'm the Doctor, I'm an alien from outer space, I'm a thousand years old, I've got two hearts, and I've got a big blue box that's actually a spaceship that's bigger on the inside and can travel anywhere in space and time."

Rose screwed up her eyebrows at him in a frustrated look as she demanded, "Oh, is that it, then? Is that how you introduce yourself, now?"

He blinked in confusion for a moment before replying slowly, "Yes ... I suppose so ..."

"And you want to complain about me not asking the right questions, when you just go and play all of your cards at once like that?" she muttered with a sarcastic roll of her eyes.

That startled an amused chuckle out of him and Rose couldn't help but smile as she met his softly curious expression.

"Who are you, Clara Oswald?" he asked with quiet interest.

The moniker sounded so wrong coming from his lips that Rose very nearly blurted out her true name right then and there, just in an attempt to correct him.

"What makes you think I'm anyone?" she asked evasively instead.

"Well, everyone's someone," the Doctor insisted, stepping forward and invading her personal space again as he looked down searchingly into her eyes.

Rose found that she was frozen under his scrutinizing expression, entirely unable to look away or find another way to deflect his probing questions.

"I'm not," she finally whispered under her breath. "Not yet. Not here."

The Doctor's brows furrowed in quiet contemplation for a moment, and just as Rose was beginning to worry about how she would lie directly to the face of the man who she cared most about in all of creation, he stepped away from her again, turning back to face his TARDIS with a grand, sweeping gesture of his arms.

"So, what do you say?" he asked suddenly. "Anywhere. All of time and space, right inside those doors."

"What?" she asked, blinking up at him in surprise.

"Come on, Clara," he groaned. "We've been through all of the questions and answers already, you know them all! So? What'll it be?"

He pushed the TARDIS doors open with a self-satisfied smirk that she really wanted to wipe off of his smug old face.

"Are you serious?" she asked breathlessly instead, peering past his shoulder to glimpse the blue glow of the time rotor reflecting off of the shiny silver surfaces of the interior of his ship. The TARDIS looked just like she had when Rose had seen her at Christmas, and the pull that she felt in her chest was just as strong.

But a lifetime spent in another world with a man that she loved still wasn't enough to settle her doubts about this daft old alien, and Rose needed to be sure. She knew - her husband had told her - that the Doctor never asked twice. But he had for her - over a century ago on that dark, dirty London street corner. He had come back for her and asked again. Her husband told her it was because he had already known that there was something special about her, right from the very start. She wondered if a hundred years was enough time for this man to change his mind about her.

"Come back tomorrow," Rose muttered, watching him with a speculative look. "Ask me again."

"Why?" the Doctor asked, his smile instantly disappearing as he stared down at her in confusion.

"Because tomorrow I might say yes," she answered teasingly. And it felt so wrong in this new body, but she knew how much he had enjoyed her old, tongue-touched smile, so she flashed it for him again, and was rewarded when his gaze zeroed-in on her mouth with an intensity that she had forgotten he possessed during their time apart. A thousand different things flashed behind his old green eyes in that moment, but Rose was really only able to focus on the way that his pupils noticeably dilated.

When she raised an eyebrow at him in silent question, the Doctor finally cleared his throat awkwardly and stepped away, grumbling under his breath the entire time.

"You know, it's three-o'-clock in the morning," he sighed wearily. "It's not really even worth it to get in the TARDIS and skip ahead to tomorrow. I might as well just wait here until dawn breaks."

"You could, if you wanted to," Rose replied with an unaffected shrug.

"Sorry?" the Doctor asked, confused.

"You could stay," Rose elaborated, nodding her head over her shoulder back in the direction of the darkened house behind her. She still didn't really know what "Clara's" living situation was like, but she was certain that the house was empty, and no one would likely return until tomorrow morning anyway.

"'Stay'?" the Doctor repeated, flashing her an oddly horrified look. "You know, I did try that once."

"Seriously?" Rose asked, not sure whether to be amused or irritated that the Doctor had somehow found it in him to take the dreaded slow-path with anyone other than herself.

"Wasn't really for me," he sniffed lightly. "Only managed to make it about an hour."

"Well, what do you say?" Rose prodded teasingly. "Think you can make three more?"

The Doctor's eyes narrowed once more as he seemed to quietly debate the pros and cons of having to stay the night in a human house. Finally, his shoulders sagged and he gave a long-suffering sigh. "Fine. Alright, then," he groaned dramatically. "But it's only so that I can keep an eye on you. And I'll have you know that I'll be expecting breakfast in the morning!"

"Okay," Rose agreed easily, giving him a considering look. "Maybe I'll make you one of my world-famous soufflés."

The Doctor's eyes widened to comical proportions, but Rose turned her back on him so that he wouldn't be able to see her gleeful smile. She knew that she shouldn't be enjoying this as much as she was, but for once she knew more than he did - and the experience was exhilarating to say the least.

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

Rose's first night back in her home universe was strange. She didn't realize until she stepped into the small bathroom in the hallway near her bedroom (well, the room that she had inadvertently claimed, anyway) how very

odd

the whole situation was.

Who was Clara Oswin Oswald? She appeared to have her own books and a job and a toothbrush and a laptop, and even though the last one was oddly empty for someone who was supposedly in her mid-twenties and would have surely used it before, it was fairly clear that she was indeed a real, human person with a life all her own.

Rose felt like an intruder in her own skin as she leaned over the bathroom sink and peered at her new reflection in the oval mirror hanging on the wall. Her dark brown eyes narrowed as she slowly inspected every single detail of her new form.

Who am I? she thought quietly to herself.

She wasn't exactly expecting an answer, but one came anyway in a sudden flash of golden light behind her eyelids. You are yourself, the Bad Wolf replied simply.

Yeah, but who is this Clara person? Rose insisted, not even bothering to ask why or how the Bad Wolf was speaking to her now. She had too many other pressing questions weighing in on her mind at the moment. She furrowed her brows at her reflection and focused all of her thoughts on the strange, ephemeral voice echoing inside of her head.

Did I just steal someone else's identity? she asked curiously. Or is the real Clara still out there somewhere, wandering around? Or ... wait, hold on ... Is she dead? Am I walking around in a dead girl's body?

There is no Clara Oswin Oswald, the Bad Wolf replied evenly, refusing to rise to Rose's suddenly panicked thoughts. She is no one - an invention of the Bad Wolf. I have placed fabricated memories of her in the minds of those surrounding this household so that you could have a seamless transition into this world. Clara Oswin Oswald is you.

No, but ... I'm Rose.

Yes.

Well, you can't be two people at once, that's just ridiculous ...

I exist across all of time and space, the Bad Wolf explained in her typical flat monotone. There are many realities, many lives, many names. You're simply more.

'More'?

More than Rose, more than Clara, more than human.

Yeah, you're going to need to explain that one to me a bit.

In time, dear one. I will speak with you again at the Rings of Akhaten.

The rings of what? Rose thought, but there was another flash of golden light and she knew that her time for finding answers had come to a close.

Rose sighed wearily as she gave her strange new reflection one last hard glare before forcing herself into the strange new bed that she supposed she might as well start calling her own.

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

Rose wasn't quite sure what she had been expecting to find the next morning - maybe a half-way remodeled kitchen or a fancy new gadget in the garage or a fully-furnished bigger-on-the-inside shed out back. What she most certainly

hadn't

been expecting was to wake up to complete and utter silence as early morning sunlight drifted lazily over her bed.

She stretched her sleepy muscles as she slowly regained consciousness and moaned happily at the sensation of her new, lithe young body. She still wasn't quite used to the way that she felt in this new skin.

"Oh, good, you're up."

The sudden male voice made Rose start with a gasp and she grabbed her blankets defensively as she whipped her head towards her open bedroom doorway. A tall man with wide shoulders, floppy hair, and a bowtie was leaning casually against the doorframe and watching her with an oddly hooded expression. It took Rose a minute to remember who he was - but she wasn't sure if that was because of her own exhausted mind, or the fact that she wasn't quite used to his new skin, either.

"Doctor!" she gasped in surprise. "Wh-what are you doing here?"

"Spent the night, remember?" he replied, throwing a casual thumb over his shoulder as if that were explanation enough for how he had spent the last three or four hours.

But Rose had spent almost seventy years - nearly a whole lifetime - being married to the Doctor, and even if he wasn't this man exactly and he had a whole host of different expressions and mannerisms, she liked to think that she was pretty good at reading him. And the current guarded expression on the Doctor's face told a very different story from what he was telling her with his words.

"Did you, though?" she asked suspiciously.

The Doctor's eyes narrowed to match her own and he pushed himself off of the doorway to stand to his full height before admitting, "Fine. No, I lied. I didn't stay. I thought, 'hey, since we're going out on an adventure tomorrow, might as well get to know my new companion', right? So I Googled you."

"You ... 'Googled' me?" Rose repeated in complete disbelief.

"Yes, well, I tried to," the Doctor went on, beginning to pace within the doorway now and flinging his hands about wildly. "But there wasn't much to find. Actually, there wasn't anything to find. So I thought, 'hmm, that's odd. Best look into that', so I popped back a few years to search for birth records, graduations, parents, family, friends, anything, and you know what I found?"

"No ...?" Rose answered slowly, already fearing what his answer might be. The Bad Wolf had said that Clara Oswin Oswald was a construct - an alibi created in this world for her to fill. She knew that no lie or story that she could make up would ever be good enough to fool the Doctor - he had clearly spent the last few hours doing his research.

"Nothing," the Doctor answered, halting his frantic movements and coming to a stop right over Rose's bed. He was smiling down at her, but the expression wasn't a nice one. Rose had seen the Oncoming Storm many times in her life, but never had she seen it directed at her. "No birth, no death, no relationships, not so much as a single fingerprint. You're no one, Clara Oswald."

Silence fell between them, then, and Rose knew that he was waiting for her to contradict him or try and fabricate some sort of lie to cover her tracks, but she refused. She considered, very briefly, telling him the truth, but the words were clinging to the inside of her throat and refused to come out.

So finally, she did what she had seen the Doctor do so many times that she had lost count over the years - she evaded the question.

"Everyone's someone," she muttered, watching him carefully as she repeated the words that he had spoken to her just a few hours ago.

The Doctor laughed, but there was no real humor behind it, and the poisonous look in his green eyes didn't fade in the slightest.

"Why did you do it, though?" Rose asked curiously, tilting her head at him in question.

"Do what?" the Doctor asked, his tone like ice.

"Why did you ... Google me?" She tossed him a flirtatious grin and was pleased to see that the hard look in his eyes softened just the slightest bit before he finally turned and began his casual fidgeting once more.

"Well, it's like I said - if we're going to travel together, I have to know what kind of person I'm bringing along with me," he explained easily.

"Yeah, except, you don't do that," Rose reminded him pointedly.

"And how do you know what I do and don't do?" the Doctor asked, flashing her another suspicious look as he began poking and prodding at the small, meaningless things around Rose's borrowed room.

"You couldn't even force yourself to lay down on the sofa for a three-hour kip," Rose explained with an offhanded shrug. "You also haven't stopped moving for more than two seconds ever since you first barged through my front door yesterday. For a thousand-year-old alien, your attention span is pretty spotty. Why would a man like that who has all of time and space at his disposal go and look up one single, human girl? There is such a thing as being too keen, you know."

The Doctor made a disgruntled noise and then stuttered awkwardly for a moment as he fidgeted in place at the edge of her room and glared at her indignantly. "Oh ... shut up," he finally growled, though there was no real venom behind his words this time.

Rose grinned brightly as he turned his back on her, but not in time to hide his suddenly pink cheeks. She was amazed at how these new bodies gave their flirtatious banter a whole new perspective. It seemed that her new form was witty, challenging, and just as fond of words as her husband had been, while his new persona was awkward, mercurial, and quick to blush.

She could hear the Doctor's boots on the stairs making far more noise than he needed to - like a young boy pouting after he'd been told off. He called back petulantly, "Don't think I've forgotten that I was promised breakfast!"

And oh, she had missed this.

[thelostcatpodcast]

THE LOST CAT PODCAST TRANSCRIPTS: SEASON 1: EPISODE 7: THE PET GRAVEYARD

SEASON 1: EPISODE 7: THE PET GRAVEYARD

Episode released 22nd September 2014

http://thelostcat.libsyn.com/episode-7-the-pet-graveyard

They say you should never meet your heroes. I feel this might be more about your expectations than their failings. They say you should keep your enemies close, but I feel this might be because you have a lot more in common with them than you would like to admit.

These things are all very contrary and deeply foolish, and the only thing connecting them as far as I can see is, well, you.

We are, on the whole, very contrary and deeply foolish people, and we would be wise to try and avoid ourselves as much as possible. Honestly, most days I try not to even look in the mirror.

But last week, I met me. And me, and me. I wouldn’t wish it on anyone.

THE LOST CAT PODCAST, BY A P CLARKE: EPISODE 7: THE PET GRAVEYARD

The problem with a lost cat is that, after long enough, you will start taking any ridiculous lead that people offer you, and people will, in all sincerity, offer some very ridiculous ideas indeed.

One example is: my house-mates were talking about pet graveyards. They were saying about everyone always knew about that one place in the town where pets and animals would go to die.

“Yeah! It’s usually along train tracks! Maybe it’s the electricity or something. Yeah?”

Now I have tried to wary of promises of secret knowledge. They are myths, on the whole, used to make the speaker feel a special connection to a place and, usually, little else.

But then another house-mate said: “Hey that’s a bit like that thing with the timetables.”

And you know what? It was:

If you take the train from my closest station to the next station along to the north, the journey takes 1 minute 10 seconds, varying between 1 minute flat and 1 minute 15. But on the way back the same journey takes around 1 minute 30, varying between 1minute twenty and 1 and three quarter minutes. It is the same track, it is the same distance. There aren’t even any curves.

I’ve tried not to follow up on ridiculous leads. But two ridiculous leads at the same time? Well, what the hell. I keep getting told I should get out more, anyway.

So, last Sunday when the trains only run once an hour, I went exploring. I beeped in at my train station, descended to the platform, waited for a train to pass, walked to the very northern end of the platform, and then just kept walking.

I ignored the warning sign that said it was prohibited to pass this point. I shimmied around the little gate and walked down the incline until I stepped on the pebble embankment.

And the scrunchy sliding sound was so sweet. The illicit thrill was quite overwhelming. I realised I should probably get out a bit more.

Anyway, it was barely 200 paces in that I found the first dead animal. It was a dog, curled up like he was sleeping. It looked peaceful. And next, a few feet on, there were two foxes, underneath a bush, where they must have felt secure.

Then there was a rough ball of fur and exposed sinew I could not recognise, and then there were skeletons. Squirrels, cats, dogs, moles – first whole and then just parts.

I looked back along the lines and I was roughly halfway between the stations. I carried on.

<time goes increasingly slowly through this following paragraph, with the speech getting slower and slower>

I wondered if the animals are drawn to a smell, or the other animals, or just that it is so far from humans. I wondered if it was magnetic fields or electrical fields or something else, for I have often wondered how much effect the moon really has on us what with us being so almost completely water...

uhh uhhh wait a minute.

<time returns to normal>

I felt like I had just woken up. I stopped and looked around but everything seemed to be alright. I looked back and the track was empty. Rails and shingle and trees in a straight line in both directions heading in to the distance. I took a step backwards the way I had just come.

<time slows>

And the world was warm and deep again.

<time returns>

I stepped forwards and all the sharp shrieking of the world clangoured in my ears once more.

I did that two more times, as I am a bit slow on the uptake.

Five minutes and I had the limits of the area of time dilation marked out in twigs. It was sort of oval-shaped, with some rounded bulges at seemingly random intervals around its circumference.

But it was regular enough to be able to see where the centre was. I threw a stone through the centre. The stone disappeared. There was some kind of portal in the centre of the anomaly, and the stone had just passed through it. I will admit, I got excited. What if this was a portal to a parallel universe, I thought. What if in that universe, my cat wasn’t lost? What if it was right now just sitting in the garden, sunning itself?

“Right then,” I said, and stepped through myself.

Look, OK. I may have spent five minutes sort of dithering about, but I cut that bit out of the story. I took a deep breath, and stepped through.

And it felt like I was standing in the opposite direction, without moving. I stepped through, looked around and…it was exactly the same.

<time speeds up during the following paragraph, with the speech getting faster and faster>

Oh come on I thought that isn’t fair at all I was totally cool for figuring that out and I step through and it is exactly the same that is such a crock. And the trees hissed in my ears and the shingle roared under my feet and…wait…hold on a second.

<time returns to normal>

I walked a few steps to my right and the world went back to a normal speed.

Things on this side of the anomaly were faster in the bubble. I looked around some more and I realised that there was not a single animal around me. I listened carefully and noticed no buzzing of insects in the air, no bird song from the trees. There were no bones or piles of animal fluff anywhere to be seen. The area was devoid of animal life, almost as if they were avoiding this space.

On this side of the anomaly, things *were* different.

There are always areas that animals are scared of. Their ears go back and they go suddenly rigid and still as they stare at some point near the back of the garden. You never know what.

Yes, though almost everything was the same, things were different here.

I became full of confidence. I turned and walked quickly back to the station.

And less than ten minutes later I rang the doorbell of what I thought of as my house. And a man answered it.

He looked scruffy, despite wearing a shirt. His hair was way too long and where it was un-brushed it was starting to dread. He looked a little sleepy and confused. He just stood there, looking at me, especially at my hair, but not reacting at all.

I wondered if he was entirely alright. He seemed a little rude. Well, as he wasn’t doing anything, I decided to say something. But as I took a breath, he did exactly the same and we both said at the same time:

“Who are you?”

And I realised he was me.

He looked very strange. And I noticed an expression coming over his face that looked to me a little, well, disappointed . I really wasn’t sure about this person.

“Would you believe me if I said I have come from a parallel universe?”

“Oh yeah,” he said. “What’s it like?”

Is that what I’m like? Really? Look, If you get confronted with someone from a parallel universe, wouldn’t you, you know, react more? Come on now.

So I said: “Eh, same as this one, mostly.”

“Oh,” he replied.

I was really not sure how much I liked this person at all.

I said “my cat is lost.”

And he said “Oh mine’s fine.”

This guy, I swear.

He said, “you can come in, if you like? Would you like a cup of tea? You know the cat’s probably in the garden.”

“OK.” I replied.

I went through not-my house, with the other me leading the way. I was staring at the back of his head, and was feeling a little self-conscious.  His posture was terrible.

We sat in the garden and had a cup of tea.

The cat dropped in from the next garden and ran up to the table. It jumped up on to the surface and then there was my cat. Right there in front of me. Looking just fine. Through the pet graveyard and into another universe, I had found my cat at last.

“Hey there,” said the me from this universe. “Look who’s here.” And he pointed the cat towards me. And the cat’s ears went back and it’s tail went low and it started hissing.

Other me said, “oh I don’t know what’s got in to him.”

“It’s OK,” I said. “I mean, he’s always grumpy, right?”

“Well that’s true,” he agreed.

So I put my hand out to the cat so he could sniff it and run his cheek over it but he recoiled. I left my hand out for a second too long and he hissed then slashed at it with his paw, his claws out. And his claws went so deep they snagged as he withdrew. He pulled and pulled but his claws stayed in my skin, making him more and more panicked.

He pulled even harder and the claw came off his paw, freeing him at last, and the cat sprinted away into the shrubs.

I pulled the claw out of my hand and said: “damn.”

The blood was already welling and not-me said, “I’ll get a bandage.”

“Yeah,” I said. I must admit I felt a huge sadness that my cat, well, this other me’s cat did not like me. It felt like a rejection.

I think the other me could read me well enough at this point to spot this and was trying to think of something that could help.

And you know? I thought that was quite nice of him.

“You could stay for a bit,” he said. “If you liked? I was going to watch a movie.”

Oh, which one?

“I’m feeling pretty tired. I was going to watch, like, Terminator 2.”

“Ehhh, I’ve kind of gone off Schwarzenegger recently.”

And he laughed. “What?” he said, and he laughed. “T2 is a Stallone film.”

“Hold on. Hold on. OK,” I said. “Are you saying that In this universe Terminator 2 stars Sylvester Stallone?”

I thought to myself ‘maybe there is some good in this world’.

“Sir you need to Put it on. Put it on right Now.”

“Cool,” he said. “uhhh, do you like wine?”

“Yes. I said. Yes I do.”

And so, sitting at either end of the couch, and with the cat sitting on him, we watched a movie, and shared a glass of wine.

<music begins: Cats & Mice, written by A P Clarke, performed by 76>

When it’s deep in the night, and everybody’s sleeping

there are cats on the prowl, and ghosts in the air.

And i’ll come scratching at your window, come knocking on your door

If I ask now, will you say yes?

Touch up your lips and wear that dress.

And I will show you the town, and show the streets,

and I will show the skin and what’s underneath.

And I will sing you a song, get you back before the dawn

Everybody’s lonely here.

There ain’t nothing left to fear

When the cats away, the mice are gonna play

on a slide trombone in some alley down the way

And if you feel it like you mean it life’s to short for feeling blue

so what you gonna do with all that loving inside of you?

Well in the morning, wake up with him

kiss him on the cheek maybe fix yourself another drink

and remember the night, turn off all the lights

sing that simple melody,

and dance that little dance back on over to me

When the cats away, the mice are gonna play

on a slide trombone in some alley down the way

And if you feel it like you mean it life’s to short for feeling blue

so what you gonna do with all that loving inside of you?

The drinks are spiked with something, the band is really pumping

Old Mad Joe’s got his hands on his shoes.

And everybody’s got one secret thing they want to lose

so what you gonna do?

Everybody’s lonely here.

There ain’t nothing left to fear

When the cats away, the mice are gonna play

on a slide trombone in some alley down the way

And if you feel it like you mean it life’s to short for feeling blue

so what you gonna do with all that loving inside of you?

It sucked.

Stallone was completely wrong for the role. Instead of being coolly menacing he just seemed angry or confused most of the time, and constipated.

Ah well. Score one for me, I suppose.

I was itching at the wound the cat had given me and other me said:

“I don’t think you are supposed to be here. The cat reacting to you like that suggests you are not natural.”

“He’s certainly never got me this bad before,” I said, as the wound opened up again.

“Show me the anomaly,” said other-me.

So I took him down to the train tracks, and the strangely silent area where even the insects didn’t buzz. He measured out the anomaly like I did, and I noticed how large the irregular protrusions were.

“I think that means the area of anomality is getting larger. It is spreading.”

“Do you think it was me who made it worse?” I said.

“I wouldn’t put it past you,” He said.

“Cheers,” I said.

“OK,” I said. “How do we stop it?”

He paused for a moment, nodding his head slightly. I recognised this behaviour. It meant he had already landed on a solution and was making it look like he was considering all the options. I made a note never to do that myself again.

“I…have an idea,” he said, eventually. “The same person can not occupy the same space at the same time, right? You should not be in this universe, right? So, if we touch each other within the anomaly it will create a trans-universal reaction. The tension caused by your presence will be released and everything, including you should be pushed back in place, right?”

“It’s an interesting theory,” I said. “Where exactly did you hear about it?”

“Oh, the internet or something. You up for it?”

And I said: “Sure.”

So we stood on either side of the anomaly and ran at each other. We hit each other hard, right in the centre, and we bounced off and landed on the floor. The skin right along my arm was burnt red and all the hairs were crinkled and smelt bad. His was the same. A quick measure said the irregular protrusions were even bigger than before.

“We need more. We need to overload the system.”

“Well how do we find more parallel universes?”

“I know: we’ll take the cat, and find the places he’s scared of. This should give us a good start.”

“Yeah, OK. That seems like a good plan.”

“I know,” he said.

Ugh. That person, I swear.

Mind you, it did work. And after only a few hours, we had gathered an army of uses. And they were all keen to help. I will say that of them. That was nice. It kind of made me feel good. We had a me who was married, a me who was a goth. There was a me who had a dog: and he seemed happy, and smiled a lot. There was a me who was a woman who, when we turned up at her door, gave us one look, sighed, and then got her coat.

One hundred of us gathered on the train tracks.

By this time the anomaly had taken on horrific dimensions. It was fighting with the dark cloud and whipping leaves and trees and dirt into a maelstrom about us. Time was flying about us, speeding up and slowing down. The irregular protrusions were pulsing and writhing about.

We watched a bird fly in extreme slow motion across our paths, we could see our reflection in its eyes as it stared blankly back at us. Then the tentacle of slow-time flicked away and the bird accelerated into a tree trunk.

It was getting worse. So much worse. And while none of us knew exactly what was happening, we knew we had to do something.

We had to shout to be heard:

“So what we do, right, is we all leap in to the very centre of the anomaly, right! And join hands together! Right!”

“Right!”

“On the count of three! Right!”

“Wait, wait, wait - So is that three and then go? Or go on three?”

“Three and then go! That’s how it’s always been done.”

“Actually on three is better you know.”

“Yeah, well who put you in charge?”

The roaring above us grew as the dark cloud was now being sucked into the anomaly in a whirlwind of destruction. A pulse of time lashed out and turned the high street to dust. A roaring too deep for human ears came from deep beneath us to tell us the damage was everywhere.

It was the end of the world.

And I yelled: “THREE!”

And we all ran into the maelstrom and leapt as one into the anomaly.

And it all went dark.

And then it all went light.

There was a noise like every one of your bones vibrating in your flesh.

And then I was sitting on the side of the railway tracks and it had just started to rain. A fox came up to me, sniffed at my face, and then trotted off. It passed the area of the anomaly and seemed unaffected. I picked up a handful of shingle and tossed it. It seemed to fly normally. There was no obvious deviation in the stones’ arcs. There was no anomaly left, as far as I could see.

And then I realised my bottom was wet, and I went home.

I have no idea who’s universe we were in when we all joined together in the anomaly. Maybe no-one’s? Beats me. It was interesting to note that, of all the different me’s we met, none were actually a physicist of any kind. I have found no new anomaly since, nor have I met myself again.

And I am pretty happy that I haven’t.

I mean they all helped out in the end, which was pretty cool of them, but I’m not sure I’d like to spend any more time with them, if you know what I mean? Still I guess it is a comfort to know I’m not completely terrible anyway. And at the very least, I have made a commitment to brush my hair a little more often.

I scratched at the slowly healing wound in my hand given to me by not-my-cat. It was deep, and would leave a scar. It was the first wound I had gotten from him since he had gotten lost, and I must admit I felt a little conflicted. I actually considered scratching off the scab so the scar would be bigger, but I stopped myself. That was important.

*This* was my world, and I lived in it. Although my cat was not sitting next to me, and everything was not alright, it was my cat that was lost, and it was my cat that I wanted back. I wished the other me’s good luck, and decided to get on with my own life.

I covered the wound in a bandage, sat on my couch, opened a bottle, and started to watch the real Terminator 2.

THIS HAS BEEN EPISODE 7 OF THE LOST CAT PODCAST, WRITTEN AND PERFORMED BY A P CLARKE. COPYRIGHT 2014

THANK YOU FOR LISTENING

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