#but it undoubtedly helped me through one of the rough patches i hit in like the sun

[ofherlionheart]

Babe I would love to know more about your writing process. Do you have a desk? Do you have any little rituals? Are you writing your whole story in one giant doc or do you have a separate doc for each chapter? Are you organizing all the information about your OCs anywhere?

babes i WISH i had anything remotely resembling a process but alas. there is very little order to my creative life

having a desk would do wonders both for my writing and my work efficiency but i don't have space for that in my room 🥲 so im either writing on the couch or in a semi-public space. haunting ik

usually i keep stories to a single doc but like the sun is gargantuan so i have diff docs for each new chapter now. said doc always has, near the top, a massive bullet list of all the OCs in order of appearance, their age at 101 AG, and other info. sometimes the info never makes it into the story (e.g., tuya's parents), sometimes i tack more information on later (e.g., # of siblings bishal has 💀). a little sampler:

yong (41) – nonbender, palace gardener, burn scar on neck from first husband

bishal (19) – bender, thick brown hair, a bender who goes for nonbending skills first b/c he was the only bender among his siblings n his parents always told him he cant fight his siblings w means they dont have avail to them, brown eyes, eldest of 5

kanya (19) – nonbender, short-cropped brown hair, septum piercing, short height

erhi (19) – bender, trans woman, daughter of yong, only bends for art, golden eyes, brown hair

ashok (23) – nonbender, writer/crew for theatre production group, brown skin, long black hair worn in ponytails, gap between front teeth

li bai (30) – bender, pale skin, black hair, dark eyes, thin eyebrows, middle city merchant

tuya (24) – bender, tall, stands w/ a sort of stoop, wide face, glasses, green eyes, black hair, mother from earth kingdom and father was in military

i definitely write in spurts as i have the time/energy/inspiration. sometimes if i get really stuck, i force myself to forget the project for a few weeks and really dive into my social life — getting out in the world is, as always, the best source of inspiration for me. reading good books also helps. not watching tv/movies/youtube also helps.

and if there's any consistent part to my writing, i think that i draft in a one step back, two steps forward way: when first starting a lil session i'll reread the most recent section or two, make edits, and then draft onwards. and im trying to start the habit of ending sessions mid-scene or, better yet, a little bit into the start of a new scene, so i already have some momentum to build on in the next session

[meaningofaeons]

Hello! Have you played the latest part of the xianzhou quest? If not ignore this ask lmao.

If yes, holy shi the potential for hurt comfort in the scenes of the final battle against phentylia??

I wanted to ask if you could write a hurt/comfort fic jing yuan x reader, where reader is in the battle and sees all the shit go down and is quite shaken.

Thanks!

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈ at the end of immortality

⊹ character(s) - jing yuan ⊹ word count - 829 ⊹ notes - SPOILERS FOR 1.2 TRAILBLAZE MISSION !!!, gn!reader, hurt/comfort, reader is like jing yuan's right-hand in battle and in the seat of divine foresight/implied to be a guard of some sort to him, reader and jing yuan are not together but they're both pining hard, a bit angsty but still comfort, not edited sorry

hi anon omg. this ask got me giggling kicking my feet like YES... thank you for requesting!! (＾º◡º＾❁) (also im so sorry I made this a little more angsty than I expected to wtf!!!!)

You were mad. Furious, even.

Jing Yuan could tell without even beholding your expression that you were positively seething with rage.

Towards him.

He dare not say a word about your current state to your face, though. Not when you silently draped new bandages over his wounds, and not when your hands lingered just a bit longer than they should've.

Not when he could feel the near-imperceptible tremble of your fingertips as you carefully nursed him back to health, treating him like a precious ornament that may break at the slightest touch.

"...How bad is it?"

The General's hoarse voice cut the silence like Dan Heng's spear had cut right through his torso.

Your mind flashed back to the scene, forcing you to squeeze your eyes shut.

"General!"

Jing Yuan fell through the air as Phantylia's grip faltered at last. He wasn't a Void Ranger, but...

Seeing the spear of the Vidyadhara High Elder pierce him had just about sent the same level of fear shooting through you. As though the weapon had pierced your chest, instead.

"Y/N, wait!"

"Imbibitor Lunae, what did you—?!"

Your fury came off in waves, your distress even more palpable. The aforementioned Vidyadhara—no, Dan Heng—approached you with the General in his arms, handing him off with little resistance as you helped the man to a stand.

He was still alive. You could've wept. He was still alive.

But he wasn't okay.

"I told you to stay back," you whispered, forcing your hands to still as you finished patching up his wound. They brushed over the space where Dan Heng's spear hit, and you winced at Jing Yuan's flinch.

At his slight chuckle, you worried he might come up with some witty quip that would undoubtedly enrage you into pounding your fist against his wounded back.

Instead, he only turned to gaze at you, golden eyes smoldering.

"You know I couldn't do that."

As angry as you were, you did know.

But still...

What use is a guard if their charge is always the one at the front lines?

As the General of the Xianzhou Luofu... what could you even do for such a brilliant man?

"If it had been you up there, I may have died in my worry. I'm not getting any younger, my dear."

"And neither am I. Do you have no care for the pain you put my heart through?"

Your words were far from proper, your actions even less so as you rested your weary head on the General's shoulder. He seemed to lack any concern for his own propriety, his hand reaching up to grasp your own, his rough thumb brushing your fingertips with a delicate tenderness you didn't want to think too much into.

"...I'm sorry."

Jing Yuan's relenting words were bittersweet to your wanting ears, roughened by his strain. You clutched his hand just a bit tighter.

"Is that an apology for your actions, or an apology for the fact that you'll continue to be reckless until the day you die?"

He chuckled more. The sound sent a warm, tingling feeling through your chest, a feeling that you desperately clutched to in your distress.

"Would you hit me if I said both?"

"I'll be merciful enough to save it for when you're in better shape."

The rumbling laughter continued, and you silently scolded the man for the chance of exacerbating his wounds. He only deflected the blame unto you for your quip, and you sighed out.

Ease. Your anger dissipated, fading into a comfortable silence that the General did not dare break again.

He also did not dare, however, to turn and face you. You were grateful for that.

Because in spite of your assuaged rage, your abated worries, you still fear many things.

You fear seeing new scars on Jing Yuan that you did not have to see before. You fear seeing the exhaustion grow in his youthful features, yet aged all the same. You fear the possibility that he is only a phantasm, that the mara has stricken your mind at last and all you have left of him is a pathetic delusion created by your own longing.

More than any of that, somehow, you fear that if he were to turn around in this very moment, you would cross that one line you had sworn never to touch.

The line that, when crossed, would allow you to abandon all restraint. The line that, when crossed, would mean you grasp your General in the way you've longed to, kissing him slowly to make sure he's really still here with you. To make him promise he would be here with you, forever, until the end of your immortality.

Judging from the way Jing Yuan placed his rough lips upon the back of your hand, you knew he was thinking the same.

Not yet. Not now, not even now.

But perhaps one day, it wouldn't be such a daunting wall to scale.

[thesightstoshowyou]

Revenge

Arkin x F Reader (NSFW)

Summary: You find something special in one of the Collector’s trunks

Warnings: Mentions of blood and gore, cuckholding, praise kink, daddy kink, creampie

This was another commission by the fantastic @roachcult. Another happy birthday present! Hope you enjoy <3

~~~

             You weave through the maze of wire stretched across the hallway. Your motions are smooth, practiced; you’ve been sneaking around this hellscape so long it’s starting to become routine. Duck, jump, turn, twist…. It’s like memorizing a dance.

             When you round the corner, you pause. The peeling red door at the end of the hall is closed. This could mean one of two things: One, the Collector simply closed it as he was leaving. This is unlikely; he never does anything without purpose. Which means the answer is two: He’s added a new victim to the collection.

             It is morbid curiosity that draws you. There is nothing that could shock you worse than what you’ve already seen, what he’s already made you see. Carefully, you ease over the spikes protruding from the floor and avoid the boards that will break under your weight and send you plummeting into a nest of barbed wire. Your fingers close around the doorknob and twist.

             The door swings open and you automatically duck, but nothing swings down from the other side. He must not have gotten around to setting the trap for this room yet. As you suspected, there’s a new red trunk sitting innocuously in the middle of the room.

             You wait, listening intently. No noise from inside, which leads you to believe the trunk’s occupant is probably dead. Still, you’re curious. Curious, and so incredibly bored.

             You’d taken to wandering the halls while the Collector is away, learning his traps, exploring rooms. You’ve given up on escape. Every exit to this enormous building is rigged; he would know immediately if you had escaped and it would take very little effort to track you down.

             Besides, you don’t necessarily want to die. Not yet, anyway.

             Tentatively, you approach the trunk. Cautious fingers unhook the locks. With a gasp you leap back as a body comes tumbling out of the trunk, a body that utters a pained groan when it hits the floor.

             “Holy shit, you’re alive?” you say, quickly bending down to assess the extent of the man’s injuries. He’s beat to shit, covered in blood and lacerations from head to toe. He coughs and blinks up at you with heavy, bloodshot eyes. You gently take his gore-covered face in your hands until he’s looking right into your eyes.

             “Stay still, don’t try to move. I’m going to get a few things and I’ll be right back.” You’re up and out the door in a flash, sprinting down the hall toward the Collector’s surgical room. Down a flight of stairs, around a few more corners, you find the heavy door and slip inside. As well as you can, you look past the carnage littering the exam tables. Hastily, you retrieve antibacterial ointment, a basin of water, wash rags, bottles of water, and as much gauze and bandages as you can carry.

             You’re going to be in so much trouble when he gets back….

             With difficulty, you manage to heave the injured man up onto a dusty armchair. You clean the dried blood and gore from his skin and treat his wounds as best you can. He cautiously watches your every move through half-lidded eyes, but when you lift the water to his mouth, he catches your wrist in a surprisingly firm grip.

             “It’s not poisoned. See?” You take a sip, swallowing and opening your mouth. He watches you for another half a second before ripping the bottle from your hand and chugging. You hand him the second bottle without another word.

             “Who are you?” he rasps once he’s emptied both bottles. His voice is soft, hoarse from a dry throat or screaming, but still pleasant. You want to hear more of it, desperate for anything other than the gravelly orders you’re given on a daily basis.

             You tell him your name, then, “I’m, you know, like you. A part of the collection.”

             “Collection,” he echoes, some dark emotion you can’t place crossing his face. Blue eyes snap back to yours before quickly assessing the rest of your body. Your cheeks heat up under his scrutiny. Meeting your gaze again and narrowing his eyes in suspicion, he says, “I know this mother fucker doesn’t discriminate, so why aren’t you all beat up?”

             You chuckle dryly, standing and lifting your skirt to reveal the lacerations littering your inner thighs, all in various stages of healing. Next, you hook your fingers in your collar and drag it down your shoulder, showing him the bruised bite marks marring your flesh. The man drops his gaze and nods once in understanding.

             “He doesn’t like to mess up my face, but everywhere else is fair game,” you say in a dull monotone. You’ve grown numb to it, numb to most things after living in this shithole for so long.

             “Look, I’m—I��m sorry,” he murmurs, shifting in the chair and wincing. You shake your head.

             “I’d be suspicious of me too. What’s your name?” You move behind him and urge him to lean forward so you can look at his back. You grimace at the deep wounds dotting his flesh, like little pits of ground beef.

             “Arkin,” he replies, tensing when you begin to clean his injuries, applying ointment and gauze where you can. He asks, “How’d you find me?”

             “I’ve been sneaking out of my room for awhile now. Gives me something to do besides staring at the wall. I’m sure…well, I’m pretty sure he knows, but he hasn’t said anything. So, I keep doing it.”

             “You haven’t tried to get outta here?” he asks, leaning back when you’ve finished patching him up, “And thank you,” he adds, assessing the cleaned lacerations on the back so his hands.  

             “Can’t. Everything’s rigged. He’d find me before I made it very far.” Arkin pushes to his feet, grunting with the effort.

             “Show me.” You bite your lip nervously. Walking around on your own is one thing, but leading someone else through this maze is another. The Collector will know. How harshly would you be punished?

             Clenching your jaw, you steel yourself. Maybe Arkin knows something you don’t. Maybe he can disable the alarms.

             You hold out your hand and advise, “You have to stay as close to me as you can. This place is a minefield.” Arkin grins sardonically at that.

             “’Course it is.”

             Arkin’s skin is warm against yours when his grips your hand. His palm is rough, calloused, but his fingers delicately brush the back of your hand. As you lead him through the halls, you wonder what he does for a living.

             “Okay, we have to be quick down this next one. It’s on a timer,” you murmur as you peer around the corner. The stacked saw blades glint ominously from the ceiling. You wait for the metallic clank, then the whir as the blades roar to life. They tear down the hall at great speed before disappearing back into the ceiling to lie in wait once more.

             Immediately, you slip around the corner, towing Arkin along behind you. You ease over a trip wire, and he does the same, but your heart sinks when you hear the clank. It’s early, too early. You whip around and watch as the rusty blades drop from the ceiling.

             “In here!” you shout, slipping into a dimly lit supply closet to your right. Arkin follows and swings the door shut just as the blades whizz noisily past.

             “Fucker. Must have changed the timer,” you mutter, taking a deep breath to calm your racing heart. It is then you become acutely aware of how small the closet is and how close Arkin stands to you. Timidly, you meet his gaze.  

             He’s looking at you, intently studying your expression. The single lightbulb hanging above you throws shadows across his face that darken the longer you stare. Anxiously, you bite your lip. You recognize the look in his eyes because you are thinking the exact same thing.

             The Collector would be furious if you allowed someone else to touch you, especially another in his collection. He would kill you, undoubtedly. You can see Arkin weighing the pros and cons just as you do; he wants to, wants to sully something the Collector deems as his, wants the revenge. You want that too.

What the Collector doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

             Arkin starts to whisper, “Can I—

             You hiss, “Fuck it,” at the same time and pop up on your toes to push your lips to his. He meets you gently, so tender you can’t help but gasp. It’s been so, so long since someone kissed you sweetly it nearly brings tears to your eyes.

            Warm hands grip your hips, pulling you in until you’re flush against him. Your lips part to make room for his tongue and the quiet groan that leaves his throat. One hand slides up your waist, your arm, to cup your cheek. Slowly, he backs you up until you’re wedged between his body and the wall.

            You break the kiss to take a breath before nuzzling the rough stubble along his jaw, trailing your lips across his neck. He groans again, fingers tangling in your hair when you place wet kisses to his pulse, under his ear. You taste copper on your tongue from the blood that still coats his skin.

            “That’s real nice, baby,” he purrs and you shudder at the way his soft, deep voice shoots straight between your legs and makes you drip. His hands trail over your hips, lifting the hem of your dress so he can drag his palms across your ass, cupping handfuls of flesh and squeezing. One set of dexterous fingers slides around to the front, teasing you through your panties until you whine against his throat.

            “That feel good, baby girl?”

            “Yes, daddy,” you purr into his skin. He utters a strained, “Fuck,” under his breath, fingernails digging into your ass. He pushes your underwear to the side, coating his fingers in your slick and circles your clit until you moan his name and buck your hips.

            “Yeah, that’s a good girl, I want you t’cum before I fuck you,” he growls through gritted teeth. You tip your head back to capture his mouth again and he eagerly swallows your mewls and whimpers. Warm pressure coils like a spring in your gut, your legs trembling the closer he brings you.

            You bury your face into his neck to muffle your shriek of pleasure when the coil finally snaps, but Arkin doesn’t wait for you to come down. He twists you around, simultaneously lifting your skirt and unbuckling his belt. You feel warm, turgid flesh brush your ass, then deft fingers as he pushes your panties to the side. In one, smooth thrust, he slams his cock into your fluttering cunt, pulling a strangled shout from your lips.

             One hand rests on your waist, the other around your neck as he snaps his hips. You meet each thrust, the both of you intent on thoroughly ruining something the Collector has claimed as his own. Arkin pants against your ear, fingers on your throat twitching as the sound of wet skin slapping against skin fills the little supply closet.

             “Yeah, baby girl, you’re doing so good, taking me so good. Fuck, you’re wet, fucking perfect, what a sweet little pussy….” Filthy praise spills from the lips pressed to the shell of your ear. Dazedly, you nod, biting your lip to keep your moans contained in your mouth.

            “You’re gonna make me cum again, daddy, please,” you whisper and Arkin responds with a brutal snap of his hips, one that makes you brace your hands against peeling wood.

            “Good girl. Say it again.”

            “Daddy, please, please, I’m going to cum, daddy, don’t stop—

            “Fuck yes,” he hisses, pummeling you into the wall. He pushes bloody fingers into your mouth to silence your noisy, high-pitched moans. You suck the metallic taste off his digits, squealing around them when your back arches, beautiful heat rolling through your belly in waves. Arkin groans low in his throat, hips bucking erratically as he paints your cunt with slippery warmth.

            Your knees knock together and you must hang onto the wall to stay on your feet. Arkin spins you around again, placing languid kisses to your trembling lips. You both jump when the mechanic whirr sounds outside as the blades race down the hall again. For one, wonderful moment, your world had shrunk to just your little closet. Nothing beyond this rotting door had mattered.

            Arkin pants, slumping against you and you wrap your arms around his waist to help him stand. He was already exhausted before this little venture. You can’t imagine how he’s feeling now.

            “Maybe we should go back, try again tomorrow—

            “No. No, I can do it.” Arkin takes your face in his hands and earnestly mutters, “I’m gonna get us both out of here.”

            You don’t believe him, but you smile and nod all the same.  

[sylvanfreckles]

Where Do You Think You’re Going (Whumptober 2020)

Serious warnings for physical, mental, emotional, and verbal abuse. Food is also used to control someone. John Winchester is not a nice person.

This is written new for Whumptober 2020, but is technically a prequel to the Whumptober 2018 fic I’ve been writing (Time for Whump, Boys - Chapter Four)

Summary: (set before season one) "But there was something about tonight, something about the endless hunger and fear and pain and loneliness that just broke him down." When Sam leaves for Stanford, Dean is left alone to face the rage that has overcome their father.

The carpet in the hotel room was thin, like a piece of felt glued to concrete instead of anything with actual cushion or padding. The walls were unyielding, the stained paper a testament to the years this place had been left to rot. The heater barely spluttered out enough warm air to keep the temperature tolerable.

Dean sat against the wall, knees hugged to his chest, staring up at the ceiling and trying to will himself to fall asleep. He didn't want to look down at the pair of double beds. One held their gear from the last hunt...the other held Dad.

It was his own fault, anyway. If he hadn't screwed up on the hunt, if he hadn't almost let the thing get away, if he hadn't taken so much time to do one simple task he could have been curled up in a bed right now instead of exiled to sit on the floor. Fitting punishment, Dad said, and Dad had to be right, right? John Winchester was quite possibly the best hunter in the country, and if he said Dean screwed up and needed to be taught a lesson, again, then Dean would shut up and learn it.

He stared blearily at the clock. Sometimes he wished things could just go back to the way they were, back before Sammy had left them, back before his dad was was so twisted up with rage. But that was useless. A pipe dream. Why would Sammy ever come back after Dean had driven him away? If he'd just done his freaking job, just looked after his brother, just done enough then Sammy wouldn't have left. His father wouldn't be so angry. They could be together, like before.

Dean flinched as he accidentally brushed a hand against his side. There was undoubtedly a set of nasty bruises forming there—though at least Dad hadn't been wearing his steel toe boots, so Dean's ribs weren't busted this time. His side was throbbing and hot to the touch, and despite the coolness of the wound he longed to get a cold compress.

The ice bucket was right there, on the little hotel dresser. He was encouraged to treat his own wounds—hell, expected to treat his own wounds. It wouldn't count as discipline if Dad patched him up after every punishment, after all.

He had long ago given up on trying to get Dad to stop. For a while he'd thought that maybe it was just a phase, maybe if Dad got all the anger and grief out they could go back to the way things were. Every punch or kick, every blow of the belt across Dean's back—they were all supposed to be steps back to normalcy. Somehow, though, the well of rage inside John Winchester just never seemed to end. It wasn't getting better as time passed, it was getting worse.

Or...or he was getting worse. Maybe that was it. Maybe he just hadn't noticed how poorly he was performing in hunts these days, all because he was too selfish to think beyond himself. He hadn't tried hard enough to keep Sammy with the family, and he obviously wasn't trying hard enough now to be any real help to Dad.

Dean quietly climbed to his feet. The ice machine wasn't too far away, so he wouldn't even need his shoes for the short trip. Dad made a noise in his sleep when Dean picked up the bucket, but it seemed like the older man was still deeply asleep. That was when Dean saw the handful of change John had left on the dresser next to the ice bucket.

He hesitated. He hadn't eaten anything for dinner—hadn't been allowed dinner, food wasn't so plentiful they could just waste it if he wasn't pulling his weight. It had seemed all right at the time, with the fading adrenaline from the hunt, the burn of humiliation as his father outlined everything he'd done wrong, then the pain of discipline he hadn't had much appetite then. But now...now Dean's stomach rumbled at the thought of food. There was a vending machine next to the ice machine. Surely Dad wouldn't miss a dollar or two. Just for a granola bar, not anything as extravagant as candy. He'd even eat it outside so the rustle of the wrapper wouldn't wake his father.

He carefully picked through the change on the dresser. One dollar and fifty cents, that would be more than enough for a granola bar from the vending machine. He could eat it right there, while the ice bucket was filling up. That wouldn't even take any extra time.

Dean had slipped the change into his pocket and had just put his hand to the door when a gruff voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Where do you think you're going?” John's voice was thick with sleep, whiskey, and anger.

Dean swallowed. “Just to get s-some ice,” he replied, holding up the ice bucket.

John made an angry sound, practically a growl deep in his throat, and threw back the blankets to stalk over to Dean. “You were running,” he said.

“No, sir,” Dean shrank back against the door, ice bucket held in front of him like a shield. “J-just ice. You said-”

“Don't tell me what I said!” John roared. He snatched the ice bucket away from Dean and hurled it across the room, then tangled his fingers in the collar of his son's shirt to slam him against the door. The hand dug into the small of Dean's back, no doubt adding to the bruising there. “You're lying to me.”

Dean shook his head frantically. Lying was wrong, almost as bad as screwing up on a hunt. Lying was what made your brother leave and your father angry. “I'm not,” he protested weakly.

Dad backhanded him, adding to the bruises on his face from earlier. “Pockets,” John hissed.

With trembling hands Dean pulled out the change he'd taken. The quarters and nickels winked accusingly in the faint light of the hotel room. It was stupid. He shouldn't have taken it. He'd just been so hungry.

Dad grabbed his wrist and wrenched his hand up to study the money more closely. “So you're stealing again.”

He broke down. “I'm sorry,” he whispered as Dad wrenched his hand even higher, until his wrist was screaming under the strain. “I was just hungry.”

“Hungry?” John's eyes were cold, unreadable. “Fine.” He released Dean, the change scattering around the room, and stalked over to the trash can that sat between the beds. Dean knew what he was getting, but that didn't make his stomach revolt any less when John shoved the half-eaten burger at him. “Eat, then, Dean. Eat if you're hungry.”

It had been sitting there over twenty-four hours now. When Dad had brought it in it had been a juicy bacon cheeseburger, the kind that Dean used to crave. John had eaten most of that burger, and what was left was a greasy, congealed mess in a soggy bun. Dad had left it sitting out while they were getting information, and when they'd come back to the hotel to prepare for the hunt he'd torn a strip off of Dean for not making sure the leftovers were properly refrigerated.

There was no excuse. He should have seen it, should have paid more attention to what his father was eating and if there was anything leftover. If he'd put it away like he should, his dad might have something better than a half-rotten burger to offer him now.

“I thought you were hungry,” John said. His voice was dark and rough with anger. “Were you lying?”

Dean swallowed. He could try to stomach the burger, and probably be punished again for wasting food when it came back up. Or...or he could skip that discomfort and face his punishment for lying. Again. Obviously he wasn't hungry enough if he was turning his nose up to food his father was offering him.

“I'm sorry,” he whispered, not daring to look John in the eye.

With a growl, his father held the remains of the burger closer to Dean's face and squeezed it until the rancid grease ran out between his fingers. “You're sneaking out in the middle of the night,” the older man began. “Stealing from me. Lying to me. Refusing the food I provide. Am I forgetting anything?”

Dean shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. Why hadn't he just gotten the ice? Dad might have let him get the ice. If he hadn't taken the change, he wouldn't have sparked so much anger in the older man.

“Shirt off,” John commanded. He wiped his greasy hand on the hotel comforter and starting sliding his belt through the loops in his pants. “On your knees.”

He was already complying. It was harder to pull his T-shirt off with how sore his ribs were, but he managed to do it before his father strode over to help him. If he made Dad tear his T-shirt taking it off that would just be wasting more resources...it was bad enough he couldn't even build enough muscle to wear the same size clothes as his father. He dropped to his knees beside the bed, folding over to offer the best surface area for his father to work with.

John was always thorough, brutal, and efficient. He knew exactly how many blows would leave his son bleeding, shaken, and on the brink of passing out without actually beating him unconscious. Dean was fighting down the nausea from the pain—and nausea on an empty stomach just wasn't fair—when his father finally stopped and tossed the belt aside.

“Pack up,” John sneered. “We're leaving in an hour.”

Dean blinked up at him. “N-now?”

“I ain't getting back to sleep after this, boy!” John roared. Dean flinched back, expecting another blow. When it didn't come he risked another glance up, to see his father sitting down on the edge of his bed to pull his boots on. “Need to head to Riddle next. Tonight was a shitshow, but at least I found the sons of bitches.”

Dean nodded, keeping his eyes on the floor again. He flinched when John's booted feet hit the floor. “One hour,” the older man warned before stalking out the door, keys in hand.

With shaking hands, Dean followed his father's orders. The weapons had to be reassembled and packed away, ammo stored in the right cases, evidence of their presence scrubbed away. He pulled his own meager possessions out of the dresser to stuff in his tattered duffle bag and hesitated when he found his old phone.

John didn't know about it—well, he probably did, and just didn't care as long as Dean didn't use it. He'd kept it in hopes that Sammy might call or text, but his little brother had shown no interest in keeping contact.

But there was something about tonight, something about the endless hunger and fear and pain and loneliness that just broke him down. Without really knowing what he was doing, Dean punched in the only number he had to contact his brother.

The phone rang a couple of times, and Dean was about to put it away when the call finally connected. “Hello?

It was Sam. He sounded raspy with sleep and a little irritated at being woken up, but it was Sam.

Shaking, Dean held the phone a little closer to his ear and squeezed his eyes shut. “S-Sammy?”

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Yesterday was a busy day of meetings and airplane travel for peter and connor but last night peter took some time to share his thoughts on the passing of the great christopher lee christopher lee was the tallest actor I ever knew he was also by far the most literate when we first met in a los angeles studio where he was recording his lines as king haggard in the last unicorn he had just recorded haggard’s speech about his first sight of unicorns and I mentioned that it was probably my favorite speech in the book he immediately wanted to know well did I do it properly we can always redo it right here of course he’d handled the lines perfectly but writers and writers’ opinions about their work mattered intensely to christopher that same afternoon we discovered that between the two of us we we could call to mind just about all the lines of g k chesterton’s poem the rolling english road we also discovered a mutual need to hit the men’s room and my son dan in his mid teens at the time still has a very clear memory of christopher simultaneously peeing while declaiming in that voice which no one could ever keep from imitating after fifteen minutes with him before the roman came to rye or out to severn strode the rolling english drunkard made the rolling english road a reeling road a rolling road that rambled round the shire and after him the parson ran the sexton and the squire I leave it to the reader to imagine that voice in the tiled acoustics of a hollywood bathroom we met a second time in munich where the last unicorn was being dubbed into german most of my memories of that time and of chris lee have to do with books and authors he had known both j r r tolkien and a writer who mattered more to me t h white we had a long ongoing argument in munich about a chapter of the sword in the stone that appears in the english edition of the book but not in the american one he turned out to be right he usually was he never failed to mention the last unicorn as one of his very favorite books and as one of the movies he was most proud of having made indeed he left my whopperjawed as mark twain would have put it when we were being interviewed together on austrian television and he announced oh yes I simply couldn’t resist a chance to play king haggard one more time even in another language after all and he looked straight into the camera it’s the closest they’ll ever let me get to playing king lear the camera swung toward me to catch my stunned reaction and chris looked across the studio at me and winked but my most vivid memory chilling as it remains to this day has to do with the day that I and michael chase walker associate producer of the last unicorn and the one who really got the film made in the first place somehow found our way out to dachau I can’t now recall how we managed it considering that neither one of us spoke german and that you had to take both a subway and a bus to get there from the hotel where the crew were staying but we got there somehow and spent a good half of the day roaming with other tourists around a legendary concentration camp peering blindly into the huge crematoriums but staring with equal horror and fascination at the endless rows of filing cabinets containing every record of every human being who was ever imprisoned starved gassed or simply worked to death in this place michael and I grew quieter and quieter that afternoon until by the time we started back to munich we weren’t speaking at all I think we both felt that we might say anything in words again the first person we met in the hotel lobby was christopher he took one look at us and announced you’ve been to dachau we nodded without answering chris strode toward us looked all the way down from his six foot five inch altitude lowered his voice and inquired still smells doesn’t it with the end of world war ii christopher as a member of the special forces and whose five or six languages included fluent german had been assigned to hunt down and interrogate nazi war crminals and had been present at the liberation of dachau and yes the smell of death had undoubtedly faded somewhat since 1945 but it was still as real as michael and me wandering dazedly between the ovens and the filing system we just didn’t know what it was but christopher did and i’d know it again I never saw him again after munich though we spoke on the telephone a few times on the last occasion when I had called to wish him a happy 90th birthday I remember him assuring me that if by the time you come to make your live action version of your movie I have passed on do not let it concern you I have risen from the dead several times I know how it’s done he worked almost to the last as the real artists of every kind do they work to be working because that’s what they do and they die when they stop I always regarded him as the last of the great 19th century actors that bravura larger than life style went with him no modern rada trained performer would ever attempt it today nor should they it would inevitably come out parody however earnestly meant yet there was always more to christopher lee as an actor than dracula or the mummy or saruman or sherlock holmes for that matter though he was very proud of having played not only both holmes and watson but sherlock’s brother mycroft as well lord summerisle of the original the wicker man probably his favorite of his own movies is most likely closer to chris’s dark benignity than any other role he ever inhabited I believe this because lord summerisle sings a surprising amount in that movie and chris passionately loved singing if there is any such thing as an afterlife or reincarnation I truly hope no believe that christopher lee will return as a wagnerian opera singer if he hadn’t been considered too old in his 30s to be accepted for formal vocal training he might have been in his own eyes at least a happier more fulfilled man but we would have been deeply poorer for it and never have known See Other related 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[sidespromptblog]

The Past: Part 4

One, Two, Three, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine

Summary: Logan doesn’t recall being Apathy, he can’t remember a single instance in his life where he was the dark side Apathy. As far as he’s aware he’s always just been... Logic, Thomas’ Logic to be more precise. He lives and he breathes as Logic and nothing more.

Except...He’s certain that he isn’t supposed to have emotions, that little things like being called stupid and having the word infinitesimal thrown at him aren’t supposed to hurt the way that they do. He’s certain that he was never supposed to feel, let alone everything that he does now. He just doesn’t understand these feelings, not to mention the dreams of a blank white tie that was folded to crisp perfection. He doesn’t understand the dreams in which he stands before Deceit and the others, with such a tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless.

He doesn’t understand, why when he looks at his friends... and he feels nothing but fear and anger.

Logan woke to the feeling of arms encircling him, his body gingerly bobbing to the pace of someone walking, and the smell of smoke, ash, and fire in his nose, along with the faintest whiff of deodorant, that most certainly didn’t smell all that pleasant.  But to say that he woke up was a bit of a stretch, as his mind went in and out of consciousness as his sore body rested in the arms of whoever was carrying him, he couldn’t help the tiny sound of pain that left his lips as his head jostled a little. Just to feel the arms holding him tighten almost instinctually as the person kept walking, their fingers digging even more into his arms and legs as if loosening their hold even the slightest little bit meant that he would just cease to be.

Where was he? Where was he being taken? Who was holding him exactly? Had Patton found him? Roman? Virgil? 

“Easy does it,” The surprisingly warm tilted accent graced Logan’s ears, sending Logan internally spiraling in surprise. “I’ve gotcha nerdy wolverine, I know the ride’s a bit bumpy.” Remus for the life of him actually sounded just a little bit sorry as he readjusted his grip on Logan. The world around him was a blur of dark greens and blacks, leaving him unable to truly tell if they were still in the forest or someplace else that Remus had imagined up just for the logical side in question. 

Logan barely paid it any mind though as the back of his head seemed to endlessly ache, begging him to close his eyes and return to unconsciousness. And he did, as he moved his head nestling his face into the surprisingly soft frills of Remus’ shoulder pads as if it was the most casual thing on earth. He ignored the sharp choked intake of breath and stuttering of Remus’ gait that came from the creative side that came from his simple action, just as he ignored how the other held him differently, almost in a way cradling delicately him close to his chest before he began walking again. Instead, he closed his eyes, letting his exhausted and drained mind since back into the darkness, the steady rhythm of Remus’ footsteps eventually fading away as his breathing evened out. 

Within seconds he was unconscious again. 

“Apie? Apie are you awake?” A finger poked and tickled his side until he finally cracked an eye open, looking back at the other side who had crouched next to his bed an eager but suspicious grin on his face. “You are!” Remus cheered, before lowering his volume as soon as Deceit knocked on the wall, telling him for the fifth time that night to keep it down. 

“Do I want to know why you’re waking me up at-” A quick glance to the clock told him that it was well past midnight, almost three in the morning at this rate, a weary sigh left him as he scrubbed at his eyes before sitting up and slipping his wireframed glasses on into place. “Three? What could be so important you rascal?” As annoyed as he sounded, there was a slight grin that curled onto his lips, one that Remus easily mimicked as he hopped up onto the bed, sitting on Logan’s feet as he did. 

There was something clutched in Remus’ hands, a box who’s wrapping had clearly been done by Remus. If the haphazard cuts and pieces of tape sticking out were anything to go by. 

He tilted his head to the side, “Did I miss something?” He droned, clearly uncertain as to why he was being given a mediocrely wrapped gift at three in the morning. 

For a split second Remus’ face fell, but it wasn’t a look that lasted long. “It’s for you dumbshit!” The so-called insult rolled right off of Remus’ tongue, but even so, he wasn’t all too bothered by it. Remus’ more harmful insults were the ones that didn’t have a single bit of cursing in them, so this.. this was child’s play. “It’s your birthday! Dee said that you formed today, so… I created you something. Something that you can use every day!” Remus squirmed in front of him, still holding the box before he roughly shoved it onto Logan’s lap, still sitting impatiently on Logan’s legs as he did. 

Oh. “Thank you,” The words sounded bland, even to him, but regardless of his tone, Remus beamed like sun, his grin lighting up his face. 

Slipping open the box, Logan felt something inside of him soften as two things rolled out onto his lap. The first being a soft baby blue hat with a little lightbulb patch right on the front, and the second… a white tie that had painstakingly and neatly been rolled up in order to fit into the box along with the hat that Remus had created. He could have easily made a bigger box, but knowing Remus.. and how excited he managed to get over creating things, he hadn’t been too worried about that. In fact, he had probably been excited to create anything at all. The softness inside of him pooled in the bottom of his stomach like a bog puffing out poisonous cloudy columns of gas. 

“Thank you, Remus, I apprecia-” 

Before he could get another word of his thanks out, Remus’ arms latched on around his neck, and Logan went stiff before eventually softening into the display of affection. 

“I love you Apat-”

“What did you do to him?!” 

Deceit’s voice broke through the haze of Logan’s dreams, as he slowly blinked his eyes open to a cool dark room that surrounded him. He no longer felt the warm arms of Remus holding him, instead, a fuzzy black pillow had been angled perfectly under his head and neck as a thick woolen blanket laid out over the top of him with the edges neatly tucked in under the sides of his body. He had been laid on a couch by the looks of things, a very roomy and big couch considering that it was just Deceit and Remus in the subconscious commons. He had never seen the inside before, considering that Patton had forbidden all of them from entering it. He had only seen the door, from the bottom of the stairwell that looked as if it led into a basement of sorts. 

“I didn’t do this to him!” Logan picked his head up a little more at the sound of Remus’ voice coming from another room. “He fell into the ravine I created, and I couldn’t leave him there for one of my creatures to crack his head open and feast on the inside of his brain like a gooey buffet of blood and-” Logan’s nose wrinkled a little bit at the imagery.

“Okay.” A rough sigh came from Deceit, as he undoubtedly was rubbing at his temples in the exact fashion that Patton did whenever he had to put up with Remus for too long. “We have to get him back to his side though, if he’s gone for too long then Patton…” Deceit’s words trailed off, and as they did Logan forced his tired aching body to sit up making the covers fall away. 

“Where’s my tie?” The logical side mumbled to himself, only now just noticing that it was gone as he stared down at his shirt that had the first two buttons popped off. He’d had it with him when he had fallen right? When he had… Logan’s fingers reached up to scratch at the back of his head, just to pause as soon as his fingers touched the fresh clean gauze that was wrapped around it. Surely he hadn’t hit his head that hard did he? Then again… he had fallen unconscious several times due to the initial impact, especially if those strange dreams were anything to go by. 

“You’re awake!”  Remus’ jittery and way too loud broke through his internal musings as he made his way towards the logical side, the smile on his face seemed way too wide and way too fake to be anything real. It almost resembled Patton’s smile, from breakfast earlier that morning, except Remus’ smile did have an air real warmth about it, unlike the cold sharpness of Patton’s. “For a second I thought that you had scrambled your brains like a cracked egg!” Remus chirped with that smile leaning against the side of the couch his hands folded behind his back. “You are alright… aren’t you? No screws loose yet?” Remus’ smile faded just a little. 

Logan didn’t understand the warmth and softness that pooled in his stomach at the sight of Remus standing there, as if he hadn’t just saved him and carried him back to safety to have his wounds dressed properly. He didn’t understand why his heart was thudding in his chest, or even why it felt so hard to swallow all of a sudden. 

“I...” Logan’s fingers itched at the bandage encircling his head, hiding the bruises that rested on his temples. “I feel fine thanks to you, a little sore, but that’s to be expected when I fall into a ravine around the size of Tartarous.” A snort left Remus and before Logan realized it, he had even cracked a slight smile at the noise, “But Deceit is right,” He added, and the air of comfort and familiarity fell away. “I should get going before the others start looking for me and assume the worst about you both holding me here. I do not wish to get you two in trouble.” He honestly said, and from the entrance of the kitchen, Deceit bobbed his head in a nod.

There was a peculiar look in both of their eyes as Logan made it to his feet, a look that made him pause for a second before he approached Remus. 

“Thank you,” He seriously said, holding his hand out to Remus, “For saving me, you didn’t have to, but you did. So, anytime you wish, or any time you want to pay a visit. My room will be a sanctuary.. for both of you. I promise.” 

For a second, it Remus moved his arms a little as they remained behind his back, but eventually, as his entire body quaked and trembled with the typhoon of emotions... He held his hand out. A hand that was covered in small nicks and cuts from when he had climbed down the edge of the ravine in order to retrieve Logan, but even so, he didn’t hesitate to clasp Logan’s hand giving it a firm shake as he nodded his head. It was most definitely a boon that he would use as he watched Logan leave, any safe space inside the others’ areas was a haven for both him and Dee. Right now, there was just the kitchen and the dining room they were allowed to traverse, but that was only with another side watching them. Logan.. Logan had just granted them something special. 

“I’ll see you later,” Logan quirked an odd smile that felt a little weird on his face. “You rascal.” 

And just like that Logan was gone, leaving Remus to seize the edge of the couch, his breathing loud in his ears as he brought his other hand from around his back. The hand that had been holding Logan’s missing and shredded tie, in the beginning, he had honestly meant to give it back to Logan. But now… now that the perfect blue had slowly been bleeding away to a pure white color the longer that it stayed within the subconscious… Remus couldn’t give it back. 

Instead, he held it tight, feeling tears prickling the edges of his eyes for the first time in years, and with nothing to hold him back…

He sobbed.

[belladonnabear]

Dabi X Reader X Bully Hawks

Inspired By: @yandere-love-love-love​

I loved the story Intertwined! I’m a huge fan as well! And I read some ideas that were bouncing back and forth on your account. I really liked a lot of them! Especially the one where soft Dabi comes in to rescue the reader from one of her darkest moments in life. So I was inspired to write this! You can consider this a unofficial sequel to Intertwined! Thank you yandere-love-love-love for helping inspiring me to write this! I hope you all enjoy!

WARNING: Sexual assault, Harassment, Abuse, Cursing, Angst with a happy ending!

Intertwined: https://yandere-love-love-love.tumblr.com/post/186177178656/intertwined

Artist Kadeart For The Picture Above: https://kadeart.tumblr.com/

You wake up with a heavy gasp. Tears dripping down your face and you're coughing ferociously. A queasy feeling bubbles in your stomach. Adrenaline rushing through your veins as you sprint to the bathroom. Flipping the toilet seat up and vomiting up your previous dinner. Not that you ate much to begin with. It felt never ending. Just choking out more excess from your stomach.

If it wasn't for that damn bastard, this wouldn't be happening. The nightmares, the constant feeling of being watched or the unbearable flashbacks you would get from something that reminded you of him. From a lingerie store, to a coffee shop and even cars that looked similar to the one he drove. 

Gagging over the toilet seat with tear stains on your face was how you often woke up these days. Especially after that night.

His dirty hands touching your body.

His eyes leering down at you.

That damn smirk...!

Everything was beginning to spin out of control. The worst part about it, you couldn’t do anything. The feeling of being helpless was always the last thing you felt before you passed out on the bathroom floor. What happened that night with Hawks wasn’t just a nightmare. It was torture. And you felt so small and insignificant compared to him. 

Why me?

~~

Classes began again. Every step towards the campus felt like a ball and chain around both your feet. Hawks hasn’t contacted in a week since the incident but you could feel his eyes watching you. As if testing you.

He stole pieces of your mind day by day. You felt like you were going insane. Everytime you heard about Hawks or saw a glimpse of him from the corner of your eye, you heard his voice from that night.

“No- you can’t leave- I’ll make you want me! No-no-no-“

“Stop! “Stop fighting me! I’m trying to be gentle-”

“Shh, shh- I’ll make this good, I swear I’ll make this good.”

While smacked yourself in the head to try to make yourself stop remembering it. This wasn’t the time yet. Just get through the day. College can’t last forever. Once you’re out of this hellhole, he’ll be gone too....right?

That’s what you said after high school and now look where you are....

“Holy hell...” a voice whispered.

That voice sounded familiar. Turning around, you were met with the most beautiful set of eyes on you. A fairly tall, pale young man of a slim, somewhat lanky build. He has longish black hair that spikes up around his head, hanging low over his eyes, which are thin, turquoise in color, and heavily lidded. His most striking features, however, are undoubtedly the patches of gnarled, wrinkled purple skin that cover much of his lower face and neck, all the way down past his collarbone, below his eyes and on his arms and legs. 

Despite all that, you knew who that man was standing in front of you. It was Dabi. A long lost acquaintance from high school that you occasionally talked to when Hawks wasn’t making your life miserable. He tended to be a loner. Not really having any friends to talk to. His scars seemed to be the main cause for his isolation but he didn’t seem to care. 

“Oh....hey Dabi.” you quietly said.

He eyed you for a moment before saying. “Hey yourself. Didn’t know you came to this place as well.”

“Me too. Did you just transfer here recently?” you asked.

“Yeah. Meant to come here sooner but personal shit got in the way.” he grumbled looking away.

Dabi was a rebel in his teenage days. Life at home sucked. School sucked too. He was a bad boy who had done vandalism, smoking on school grounds and getting into fights. Eventually though, he mellowed out. His siblings helped him become the brother he used to be. Though he still didn’t care much for his dad, he secretly hoped that dad really was trying to change. After some police incident that scarred part of his face, he said he would take the necessary steps in order to help his family. Apparently, that included him too.

“You haven’t changed a bit. Still wearing Hot Topic clearance?” you lightly joked.

A small smile made it to his face. “Still wearing Old Navy off the rack?”

“Meanie.” you pouted.

“Short stuff.” he teased.

The air was light as the two of you talked back and forth on your way to campus. Dabi mostly teasing you and you pretending to be offended. It made you wish you got to know Dabi more. Despite that rugged exterior, a very charming man lied beneath the surface. One who helped make you laugh. It was like being released from prison after serving a long sentence.

“You still make your own little lunches?” Dabi wondered.

“Maybe, why?” you wondered.

“You’re like a junior high girl trying to impress her crush. You’re about the same height as one too!” he smirked.

“Hey! I try to maintain the best diet I can! Besides, what do you have in that bag of yours? Turkey sandwich?” you nudged him.

“Ham sandwich short stuff.” he jabbed back.

“Isn’t that cannibalism?” you giggled.

He narrowed his eyes but the humor was still glinting in them. 

“Well then, why don’t we trade lunches today? You could afford to gain some weight. A balloon could knock you over.” Dabi invited.

You felt as if a rock slammed into your stomach. You haven’t been doing well eating regularly. Skipping breakfast, having a small lunch and then some dinner. Only for most of the meal to be vomited from your mouth around midnight. 

Before you could answer him however, your eyes caught the sight of another man. One who did not like what he was seeing. It was Hawks in the parking lot eyeing you and Dabi viciously. You definitely felt like throwing up now. Dabi seemed to catch what you were staring at and turned his gaze towards the golden boy. Hawks eyes quickly shifted from distaste to calm in a few seconds. Which unerved you to no end.

“Isn’t that Hawks from high school?” he muttered mostly to himself.

“I-I-I’ll s-see you l-later Dabi.” you stammered before running off towards the building. 

Dabi wasn’t an idiot. He heard about the bullying Hawks put you through in high school. Everyone did. But no one said anything because of how influential his parents were. His dad was the Mayor of Hosu City for crying out loud! They were rich upper crusts with enough money to buy your way out of trouble. But now it seems that even after that, Hawks still didn’t leave you alone. And you sounded like a frightened child just by looking at him. It was a feeling Dabi knew all too well. Which made him loathe Hawks more now.

Speaking of the man, Hawks casually strolled over. Hands in his brown Gucci jacket, like he owned the world. But even though his face seemed friendly, deep down Dabi knew Hawks was resenting Dabi inside. Hawks smiled at him and waved casually.

“Hey there scarface, long time no see! I’m surprised you’re not locked up! Thought you got into some trouble with the law!” Hawks greeted.

He already knew where this conversation was going and Dabi didn’t like it one bit.

“Don’t you have better things to do with your time than to pester me idiot?” Dabi scoffed.

“Ouch! Harsh! Don’t worry though, I’ll make this quick for everyone’s sake!” Hawks waved off.

That’s when his face twisted into a look of hostility. Dabi stared him down though not blinking. Like hell he would let this short daddy’s boy try to make him feel puny.

“Stay the fuck away from (Y/N).” Hawks warned.

Dabi rolled his eyes. “Are you still harassing her after all these years? When will you learn to grow up?”

“My baby? No.” Hawks denied.

“Baby? She’s your girlfriend now or something? Cause from what I know about girlfriends, they don’t run away in panic when they see their supposed boyfriend.” Dabi jeered.

“We’re going through a rough patch now and I want to make sure that no one tries to take her from me while we’re figuring stuff out. I saw how cozy you two were getting.” Hawks dismissed.

Now Dabi knew something was going on. There was no way you would date Hawks. Not after the years of torment he gave you. And after all this time, he was still coming after you? This creep couldn’t take no for an answer.

Plus the way Hawks said you two were going through a “rough patch” hit closer to home. The way his father and mother had gone through their own relationship and it ended with a much needed divorce. And he was seeing those same signs repeat here.

“So stay out of our way Dabi. She’s mine.” Hawks hissed.

The man then had a friendly face as he walked to the campus whistling. Dabi could feel the anger radiating from Hawks. Like the man didn’t want anyone near you at all. Is that why you were always by yourself?

He remembered for a moment when he resented the world because of what it did to him. He got these scars from an incident beyond his control. The world couldn’t even look at him because of him. While on the outside he never cared about what they thought, he hated everyone for casting him out. He felt alone. Now it seems like you were going through your own crisis back in those days. But unlike Dabi where he slowly got better from his past, your past seems to keep coming back to you. Whatever the case, Dabi simply couldn’t help but feel like he had to help you somehow.

~~

Classes came and went like the tides. Although you hadn’t heard from him, you felt as if Hawks was eyeing you the whole time. Like he was calculating when his time would be before he striked. Like a vulpture surveying the area before it feasts on its prey.

You had just exited from the bathroom when you saw Hawks leaning on the wall. His eyes shot to yours and you felt nauseous all over again. Your hands began trembling and your eyes began watering and you couldn’t move. So Hawks moved first.

His face looked stern as he said sharply. “You’ve been avoiding me. Is there anything you want to tell me baby? I’m honestly hurt you wouldn’t come to me if you’re having a problem.”

Now you felt angry. How dare he! After everything this man put you through, he’s acting like he’s the victim in this situation!

“Stay the hell away from me Hawks! I mean it!” you snapped.

“You don’t mean it. You’re just upset about how that night went down! I know jealousy is a horrible feeling but do you honestly think that talking to that hood rat was going to mend things?” Hawks sighed.

“What are you talking about?” you questioned with a baffled expression.

Hawks leaned down towards you and your back hit the wall. You felt trapped once again. Small bits and pieces from that night flashed in your mind and your eyes felt watery.

“I mean, I get it. You wanted me to feel jealous after I slept with that girl and you didn’t know about it. So you decided to be friendly with that mongrel this morning to try to get back at me.” Hawks explained.

You honestly wanted to hit him right now. That’s why he thought you were avoiding him? Because he slept with that one girl from class after he locked you in closet and threatened you to be quiet? And after that he raped you moments after it was over! 

“You disgusting piece of shit! What the hell is wrong with you?! You honestly think that I’m mad about you sleeping with someone else?” you snarled.

His eyes looked condescending, like he was your father and you’re the teenager who was caught past curfew. It made you boil inside with absolute fury. 

“Well that is why you didn’t talk to me on the car ride home, right? You were upset with me! But don’t worry! I have blocked all her contact information and haven’t spoken to her since! So-!” Hawks began.

“Just shut up! You’re delusional! I don’t care about you Hawks! In fact, I hate your guts! You honestly want me to pretend like nothing happened! Let me say it aloud since you can’t accept it! You raped me Hawks! You locked me in your closet, had sex with her to try and make me jealous and when that didn’t work, you dragged me into your bedroom and violated me! Want to know why I’m avoiding you?! Because I can’t stand the sight of you! Even just talking to you now I can’t stop thinking about all the terrible things you did to me! I’ve been in agony this whole week because of you! No! Not just this whole week! MY WHOLE LIFE HAS BEEN RUINED BECAUSE OF YOU!” you thundered.

“(Y/N), babe! Sweetheart! Calm down!” he clamped a hand over your mouth to stop your shouting as he leaned closer to you. Pressing his body up against you as you continued to struggle. 

“You know what you just said wasn’t true! You said you loved me! Even before then you said...you said you loved me! I know you’re just going through a rough time now! Our fight has made things difficult and you can’t trust me anymore! I get it! But I’m willing to work things through! That’s what you do for the people you love! And I really do love you beautiful!” Hawks cheerfully said with dreamy look in his eyes.

You bit his hand harshly and he removed it from your mouth. You then screamed right at his face. “YOU MANIPULATED ME BASTARD! I ONLY SAID THAT BECAUSE YOU LOCKED ME IN A STORAGE CONTAINER AND WOULDN’T LET ME OUT! YOU’VE HIT ME! YOU SPREAD RUMORS ABOUT ME SO I HAD NOBODY TO RELY ON! WHAT THE HELL IS THE POINT OF ALL OF THIS IF YOU CAN’T EVER LEAVE ME ALONE?!”

“Stop it! You know I had to do those things baby girl! You weren’t thinking properly! I had to take action! You’re just scared of starting a relationship!” Hawks scolded.

“THE ONLY THING I’M SCARED OF IS YOU!” you bellowed.

He once again covered your mouth but this time with his lips. He kissed you passionately. Letting his hands feel up and down your body. You tried pushing him away but he kept his arms wrapped tight around you. Like a python around its prey. Nobody was around. Most had left for lunch and you weren’t anywhere close to the cafeteria. 

You were all alone yet again with the man you despised more than anyone.

He pulled away and softly said. “Don’t worry honey. I’ll make it up to you. Say, the bathroom will work right? I’ll make you love me again!”

And just when you think you were going to faint right on the spot, a voice spoke up.

“Get your fucking hands off her.”

The two of you turned as your eyes glazed at Dabi. The man looked furiously at Hawks. Like he was pure scum that had no reason to exist. 

“The hell are you doing here?” Hawks questioned.

That’s when Dabi held up his phone. It was a video. A video that played the conversation the two of you were just having. Starting from when you said.

“Stay the hell away from me Hawks! I mean it!”

And ending with the chilling finale.

“I’ll make you love me again!”

You pushed Hawks away and he stumbled back into the middle of the hallway. Dabi then motioned for you to come over to him. Which you did without a second of hesitation. You hid behind him gripping on the back of his black jacket. You whispered quietly to him.

“How did you find us?”

“I wanted to have lunch with you.” Dabi smiled reassuringly.

Then his eyes went back to Hawks but with a resentful look. Hawks still looked frozen on the spot. The video had really put the egotistical man child in his place. He knew deep down if that video got out, it was all over for him. His name would be ruined, his family would be ashamed, they would cast him out as a disgrace to the family, he would lose his scholarship, never get his diploma and would living out on the streets. Without his parents money, he would have nothing.

And Dabi knew it too. While Hawks was keeping his eyes on you, he never noticed Dabi keeping his focus on the degenerate. After seeing you and Hawks alone in the hallway, he realized that something was about to happen. So just in case, he filmed the entire ordeal from around the stairs. Quietly making sure you wouldn’t hear him or see him. What he caught made him want to beat the living shit out of Hawks. The claims you made against Hawks were vile. In Dabi’s own opinion, Hawks shouldn’t be allowed to be anywhere on Earth, let alone the victim he’s been tormenting for so long.

And if you were too scared to do anything about it, Dabi would stand up for you. He knew the pain of being abused and pushed around till you feel like dying. Someone as kind as you didn’t deserve this. 

“So here’s how it’s going to go champ.” Dabi glared at him head on. “You go anywhere near (Y/N), me or our families: I release this video everywhere. Twitter, YouTube, Instagram, Facebook or hell even MySpace. All these websites will have it. I’ll even tag the university and your parents too. Just think about it. Hosu City’s mayor has a pathetic excuse of a son like you! I couldn’t imagine the reaction the public would get!”

Hawk’s eyes narrowed. “You wouldn’t.”

“I fucking would.” Dabi confirmed.

You looked at the two men nervously. Both were giving each other such hateful looks. Hawks was shaking in pure rage. Like he was holding back everything he has from killing Dabi right here. Dabi looked at him smugly. He knew he had the ace in the hole. And so did you.

“So what’s it going to be? You have three seconds to decide. Going once....going twice....going-.” Dabi started counting.

“Wait!” Hawks shouted.

You were all in silence. Hawks breathing became heavy.  As he stared at you in desperation. It made you sick.

“Love, please....please don’t do this to me. I need you.” Hawks pleaded.

It was pathetic.  He knew he was losing everything. This video was the end of his fantasies and desires. His crush on you from middle school is finally coming to an end. It should have ended long ago but the demented man refused to ever accept that.

“Leave me the hell alone Hawks. And this time, never come back.” you snapped.

“She’s made up her mind. Now get the fuck outta here.” Dabi warned.

Hawks gave you one last look. A heart wrenching look that might have anyone else feel guilty or have a second thought. But not this time. You were done being his prisoner. It was time to finish the chapter to this story.

You looked away from him and hid behind Dabi. Closing your eyes and gripping onto the man tight. You were refusing to allow Hawks to even look at you. You could hear a pained whine come from the blonde but eventually he walked the opposite way of where you and Dabi were standing. The sound of doors slamming finally made you open your eyes. 

“He’s gone now.” Dabi softly said.

That’s when you took a deep breath and realized you were holding it in for so long. Afraid Hawks would do something rash that would result in you and Dabi getting hurt.

Eventually, you sunk onto the floor. Breathing in and out heavily while on your knees. Warm arms wrapped around you as Dabi stroked your hair. He shushed you quietly and murmured.

“It’s okay now. He’s gone. He’s not coming back.”

Eventually, you began crying. It was all too much. These last few minutes were overwhelming and you felt like you needed to let it all out. Tears of horror dripped down when you almost realized how close you were to reliving that night again right here on campus. Sobs of disgust after everything Hawks had done to you and was going to do to you. And small hiccups of relief when you realized it was over. It was finally over!

Eventually, your cries were silent. Wet cheeks covered your face. No doubt smearing any makeup you had on you. But you stared at Dabi in the eyes. In his wonderful sapphire eyes and whispered with a shaky voice. 

“T-T-Thank y-you D-Dabi. Tha-Thank y-y-y-you!”

Your arms wrapped around him as well. You just needed to hold him after everything that has happened. Dabi rocked you back and forth as you slowly began calming down. He then spoke up after a moment.

“I wasn’t going to send the video out to the internet. It was just a threat.” Dabi clarified.

You looked up at him as he continued. “Didn’t want you to experience everyone knowing about you from that one video or something. You shouldn’t have one of your trauma’s posted out to the internet for everyone to see. However, this video can be showed to the police or heck even get you a restraining order. Either way, I wasn’t going to humiliate you for the whole world to see. Just needed show the bastard that I wasn’t going to allow you to get hurt anymore.”

You smiled at him. “D-Dabi, that means a lot to me. Thank you...”

“I’m sorry I was watching by quietly (Y/N). My gut was telling me the slimy little bitch was going to do something to you. I wanted you safe from him. I could tell from the parking lot that something was wrong.” Dabi apologized.

“Don’t apologize! You stood up for me! You got proof! You saved my life Dabi!” you insisted.

Dabi felt relief roll down his shoulders. Like a huge weight was lifted off of him but now that the first step was complete, he needed to assure your recovery.

“So (Y/N) what do you want to do with this video? We could take him to court. Or we could let him sweat it out for the rest of his life. Your call. I’ll help. I won’t let you down.” Dabi assured.

You thought about it for a moment. You didn’t want Hawks to ever come back to you. But no matter how many times you’ve told him that, he always came back. This time you couldn’t screw things up. Dabi has helped you get this far, you might as well take this advantage while you can. Hawks will try something to get you back. So you had to try something to get him to leave you alone.

“I....I want a restraining order. We can try to get the police involve....but I don’t want that video out there for the world to see. Knowing Hawks, he’s already thinking about a way to try and get me back.” you decided.

Dabi slowly nodded. “Sounds good. My old man never liked Hawk’s family. Didn’t agree with their political views or whatever. He’s got a big agency we can take this video too. If that old man is really trying to change, then this is his chance to prove it.”

Dabi had a dark look in his eyes. A look that was all too familiar to you. Leaning in, you kissed his rough cheek. He froze on the spot and you pulled away.

“Dabi, I’ll be there for you too. I’m sure you’ve gone through some hell as well. Let’s promise right here and now, we’ll be there to support each other. No matter what happens.” you said with a determined look.

Dabi looked surprised. The quiet reserved (Y/N) was already starting to break out of her shy demeanour. And he couldn’t afford to waste this moment. He held up his hand and stuck his pinkie out. 

“Only if you agree to let me take you out on a proper date.”

You interlocked pinkies that day and changed your future.

Six Years Later...

“Dabi! Hurry up! We’ll miss the dolphins!”

“I’m coming short stuff!”

Dabi groaned but he adored the smile on his girlfriend’s face. She was wearing a sundress with flower petals on it. The two of them were on the beach away from the gigantic crowd. They heard from a local that this was the best spot to see the dolphins and (Y/N) insisted on going there. Today was a special day so they walked all the way there.

It was their six year anniversary since the two started dating. Their lives significantly changed since they reunited in college. Dabi was out of his rebellious teenage stage and was now a happily taken man. He was slowly trying to open himself up to his family again. Enji was trying to make significant changes to appreciate his family. Even though his mom never remarried him again, she was still happy and loved (Y/N) as much as Dabi loved her.

His siblings loved her too. Fuyumi and her were sisters from their first meeting, Natsuo tried to tell embarrassing stories about Dabi he got him back with his own embarrassing stories  and Shoto thought you were good enough for his elder brother. The siblings however were wondering when Dabi would pop the question though.

Well....he hoped it would be today....

In his black shorts was the small box containing the very expensive ring. He silently prays that it doesn’t fall from his fingers and is lost in the ocean forever. That would be his luck after all. (Y/N) was taking a photo of the sunset on the shore with her phone. Which reminded Dabi of the time when she was under that asshole’s thumb.

Enji took on the case fiercely. (Y/N) did manage to get a restraining order placed against him. Hawks parents were not pleased at all to hear of what had happened. He had been put on the sex offenders list as well. Hawks remained confirmed that he wasn’t guilty. Simply saying that (Y/N) was taking things out of context in the heat of the moment. So while his sentence wasn’t that long, his life was ruined. His parents cut Hawks from them after the scandal had accidentally been leaked to the public. No one really knows what happened to the man since. His small prison time was over now after one year later, no one has heard from Hawks since. Some say he’s homeless in the city trying to survive after his parents stopped giving him money. Some say his parents are giving him money but they’re not letting the public know. So Hawks is living under a new identity far away from everyone and everything he knows. Some even say he’s trying to make a living but is trying to hide who he is from the public.

Dabi doesn’t care what Hawks was doing. He could be dead for all Dabi cares. Hawks social media hasn’t been used in ages and Dabi never found him on the news anywhere. He had to make sure Hawks wouldn’t come back to you. You two were far away from Hosu City and were now living much happier lives out in the country. But back then, you two were still worried about if Hawks would come after you. It pained him to hear you wake up from nightmare after nightmare recalling the events that night had brought to you. However, he stayed by your side. Getting you to see a therapist and getting some antidepressants. With time, patience, courage, you were finally starting to be happy. Genuinely happy. 

You two graduated from university together. Both of your families meeting each other for the first time. It was kind of awkward for Dabi at first but your parents quickly warmed up to him when they saw how much happier you were with him. But now, he wanted you to be the most happy woman in the world. 

“Look! Dabi! The dolphins! And there’s a cute baby one too!” you squealed.

The striped dolphins were jumping over the waves making whistling and trilling. Your eyes lit up as you took a few photos. The dolphins were cute but Dabi thought you were cuter.

When you turned around to ask him something you saw he was on one knee. Revealing a diamond ring to you. His eyes blazing like fire.

“You’ve been the greatest treasure I could have asked for. We’ve been through hell and back together. But no matter what we go through, we’ll always be together. But now, I want to do this together with you as your husband. So will you be my wife short stuff?” Dabi grinned.

A smile stretched across your face as you nodded and whispered. “Yes! Yes!”

He slid the ring onto your finger and then kissed it. You leaped down to him and kissed him on the lips. He lifted you up and kissed you back just as passionately.

A new chapter indeed.

~~

I feel reeeeallly bad because I love canon Hawks from BNHA but I wanted to make this story!

Thank you for reading!

[antipodeanpineapplelump]

Fast Times at Konoha High

This was supposed to be a drabble, but like everything else I touch it got totally out of hand. It’s inspired by some really pretty art of grumpy janitor Obito by @glas-onion-nard​ which you should definitely check out. Thank you so much for letting me write this Jay! (and no pressure at all to like it - I just had fun working on something completely different for a day). 

‘Can anyone tell me who Konoha’s founder was?’

A room full of less-than enthusiastic faces stares back at him and Kakashi breathes out a long sigh. Is it just his imagination, or is the ceiling light above his desk flickering? He wouldn’t mind if it is, though realistically it’s probably just wishful thinking. The bulbs were changed only two weeks ago after all.

‘No one?’ he prompts again, already anticipating the answer - or lack thereof.

Late-afternoon sunlight streams through the windows, shades of warm amber and gold. The question plays out just as Kakashi expected – blank faces and disinterest - and not for the first time, he wonders why he bothers. It’s clearly one of those days. The classroom looks deader than the staff party last Christmas – wrapped up by nine pm without so much as a single inappropriate drunken speech. Kakashi’s been to more exciting funerals. But it is nearly home-time on a Friday, so he can’t exactly blame them.

The bell rings, and the kids come alive like someone’s electrified the floor beneath them. ‘Alright,’ Kakashi calls out over the screech of chairs over wood, the clatter of stationary and books being zipped into bags, ‘Make sure you read that chapter this weekend, because anyone who doesn’t know the answer by Monday is definitely going to fail the test. You can’t say I didn’t warn you.’

‘Yes Mr. Hatake,’ they intone as one.

He smiles just a little bit at that. Enthusiastic or not, it’s still nice to hear his name spoken the same way as the teachers he remembers. After all, they’re what inspired him to pursue this career. They made a difference, even if he didn’t always appreciate it at the time.

‘Have a good weekend,’ he says as they file out, one by one.

Typically, Sasuke lingers in the corner, slow to leave again, and Kakashi makes a mental note to talk to Gai about him. It’s nothing more than a fleeting suspicion, but he gets the feeling all might not be right at home with him. He’s never been good at broaching that kind of thing with students himself, but surely the ever-cheerful guidance counsellor will know what to do.

A giggle from the corner of the classroom alerts him to the ongoing presence of Sakura - the quiet achiever of the class, and most enthusiastic member of Sasuke’s fan club. Kakashi will never understand what all the girls see in him – something about the mysterious, troubled, brooding type maybe – but wherever he goes, she goes. And where she goes-

A stack of books tips over at the back of the room.

‘Naruto you dunce!’ Sakura exclaims loudly, directing a scowl at the clumsy blond boy, then glancing back toward Sasuke for approval.

Kakashi wants to slap his palm over his face. They’re the worst, most oblivious, most patience-trying love triangle ever, and some days he just wishes he could-

The door to the classroom opens and his head snaps around, eyes drawn to it, hoping.

A man trudges in, stepladder under one arm, and brown cardboard box in other. He’s wearing a faded blue uniform, an eye patch, and an expression that can only be described as cantankerous. Or unreasonably grouchy. Or any other of a thesaurus-full of variations on the theme that Kakashi might care to apply. Like being here is utterly ruining his day, and he knows exactly who he blames it on.

Kakashi tries very hard not to swoon.

‘Hatake,’ the janitor growls, unimpressed.

There’s something oddly appealing about the way it sounds in his rough, gravelly tone though. ‘Obito,’ Kakashi replies warmly, suppressing the smile that wants to break through his careful mask of composure.

‘I presume you have something to complain about.’ Obito dumps the ladder on the floor. ‘Since you always do. Air conditioning again maybe. Or another squeaky door?’

‘Actually I think that light above my desk is flickering again,’ Kakashi says evenly.

‘Really?’ Obito drawls, one narrowed eye assessing him like he doesn’t believe it for a second. ‘Because I only changed the bulbs in it two weeks ago. The last time you complained,’ he adds snidely.

Kakashi holds out his hands, placating. ‘Maa, I can’t help it if the school doesn’t have the budget to look after these things properly.’

Obito breathes out through his nose, looking for all the world like he might hit Kakashi with the box he’s carrying. But instead he just rolls his eye, holding the box up. ‘Well, aren’t you lucky I brought replacement bulbs with me then?’

Kakashi actually smiles at that, bright and genuine. ‘That is lucky,’ he says, feeling a familiar flutter rising in his chest. He tries to lean casually against his desk, but it’s lot further away than he realised. Overbalancing, he flails gracelessly into thin air for a couple of seconds, then steps into a clumsy recovery, coughing awkwardly and trying to pass the whole thing off as intentional.

The wry expression and raised eyebrow suggest Obito’s not buying it though. He snorts sharply, something like amusement – or certainly the closest Kakashi’s ever seen - passing over his face, then drags his ladder toward the light in question, shaking his head.

The second he looks away, Kakashi sags against the desk. God he’s such an idiot. A completely hopeless mess whenever Obito’s around. Though in his defence, Obito does seem to be all Kakashi’s weaknesses rolled up into one man – and undoubtedly the most interesting person in this place. His past is a complete mystery, and regular topic of discussion in the staff-room over lunch. Ex-criminal, undercover secret agent, education ministry inspector – you name it, it’s probably been suggested. Although personally, Kakashi doubts any of them are right.

In any case, he just can’t seem to stay away from the man, and it’s caused the number of maintenance complaints he makes to skyrocket. A couple of really juicy issues, and he has a good excuse to stick around chatting to Obito for at least half an hour on Friday afternoons when he does his weekly rounds of the school. It’s made them Kakashi’s favourite day of the week.

‘So,’ he says, hoping to recover some of his lost dignity. ‘Do you have any plans for tonight?’

Obito pauses screwing in the light bulb momentarily to scowl at him. ‘Do I look like I have any plans?’

Ok… so maybe that was a bad question.

Kakashi bites his lip, distracted as Sasuke saunters past without the slightest acknowledgement. There really is something about the kid’s attitude that’s just not right and he probably should-

‘Naruto, don’t!’ Sakura exclaims.

Kakashi looks up just in time to see Naruto’s fingers slip off the spare bulb in Obito’s box, expression one of foiled mischief as Sakura drags him back by a shoulder.

‘I’m so sorry,’ she says to the janitor, looking terrified.

Naruto grins ridiculously, not the least bit put off by this change to his plans.

Obito glares at them both, expression exuding barely-contained menace. It’s enough to make Kakashi reconsider that suggestion about possible past criminality, and he knows it should probably concern him, but it’s also unreasonably attractive…

With a nervous laugh, Sakura tugs Naruto toward the door. ‘Come on,’ she entreats, as he refuses to budge, staring between Kakashi and Obito with the oddest expression on his face, like he’s just realised something terribly important.

Kakashi tears his eyes away from Obito (though that’s hard, because the view is very good) and pushes off his desk. ‘Time to head home Naruto. Mr. Uchiha needs space to do his job, and your parents will be expecting you.’

Still reluctant, Naruto pokes his tongue out at the janitor’s back, then much to Kakashi’s relief, follows Sakura to the door. That’s… less pushback than he was expecting.

But just before he gets there, and just when Kakashi thinks he’s home free, with Obito to himself for a whole few glorious minutes, Naruto pauses, fixing Kakashi with a terrifying grin and asking loudly enough that no-one - least of all the janitor perched on the ladder at the front of the room – could possibly miss it, ‘Do you want to be alone so you can finally ask him on a date Mr. Hatake!?’  

Teach children they said. It’ll be a rewarding career they said.

Well whoever they were, they obviously hadn’t accounted for Naruto.

Kakashi’s face feels like it’s on fire, Obito’s shoulders have stiffened and Kakashi just knows he’s heard. It makes him want to bolt straight out of the room. Anything to avoid having to explain to Obito, who - if he hadn’t realised before why so many things always break in Kakashi’s classroom – must surely understand by now.

‘Naruto!’ Sakura gasps. ‘I’m so sorry Mr. Hatake.’

Gritting his teeth, Kakashi smiles at her. ‘It’s alright Sakura. I hope both of you have a good weekend.’

‘Er… you too,’ she says with a final horrified glance at Obito - still frozen on the ladder - before dragging Naruto out.

Kakashi can hear her admonishing him all the way down the hall. Not that that helps him.

There’s a completely dead, stony silence. Kakashi swallows, wondering what he can possibly say to talk his way out of this. It’s all he can do not to just run away right now. As much as he likes Obito, he’s never imagined actually telling him how he feels, more than content to just admire from afar. But the way things have gone he has to say something.

‘Obito…’ he croaks out, name sticking in a too-dry throat. ‘I can explain.’

Almost in slow motion, Obito turns. His eye sweeps across Kakashi’s face, no doubt taking in the particular shade of red Kakashi knows he’s sporting. The nervous tongue that flicks traitorously across his lips, betraying the truth behind Naruto’s words.

‘Is it true?’ Obito asks flatly.

Kakashi’s resolve crumbles before the other man’s gaze. His eyes drop to the floor between his feet and he sucks in a deep breath, feeling like nothing in the world can prepare him for what he’s about to say. ‘I… yes, it is. I like you Obito. But I’d never… not if you didn’t want to…’

He trails off, unsure how to finish, and hating the deathly silence that fills the space between them. The heat in his face is spreading outward now, creeping along the tips of his ears and down his neck. Shifting uncomfortably, he scuffs at the floor with a toe.

There’s a noise that sounds suspiciously like someone clearing their throat. Steeling himself to face the music, Kakashi looks up. Obito’s still staring at him, but his expression is a lot less deadpan than before. Now there are tiny creases around his mouth and eyes, and if Kakashi didn’t know better, he’d say the janitor looks almost… amused. It’s not enough to make Kakashi relax, but it is far better than he was expecting.

Obito grunts, glancing at the box in his hands. ‘So tell me… should I finish changing these bulbs, or not?’

‘Um…’ Kakashi runs a hand through his hair nervously. Might as well come clean about everything, considering. ‘You probably don’t need to. Sorry… about that.’

Obito nods slowly. He steps back down to the floor, appearing lost in thought as he folds up the ladder. He’s taking this remarkably well. So well, Kakashi has almost begun to think he might be able to breathe again. That he might actually get away with this being one of those embarrassing incidents that they both agree (by omission) to pretend never happened. It’s probably the best he can hope for, realistically.

But Obito stops right in front of him on his way to the door. ‘You know,’ he muses, like he’s trying out each word before he actually says it. ‘I don’t have any plans tonight. But I could.’

Kakashi’s heart leaps into his throat. ‘Are you asking me… on a date?’ he squeaks.

The janitor’s mouth quirks subtly upward, slight but unmistakeable this time. ‘No. You asked first. I’m just telling you I accept.’

The noise that escapes Kakashi’s throat is almost embarrassing in it’s enthusiasm. This is not at all what he was expecting.

It’s so, so much better.

‘Do you like music?’ he hears himself babbling. ‘There’s a live band playing at my favourite bar in town tonight. Maybe we could go?’

‘Sure, that sounds fun.’

Kakashi resists the urge to punch the air. ‘I can pick you up at five?’ he suggests, aiming for cool and collected, but landing a lot closer to breathy and excited. There’s a smile plastered across his face, he just knows it, and from the way Obito’s eyes are lingering over his lips, he hasn’t failed to notice it.

‘I finish at six,’ the janitor says, wry but not displeased. ‘You can pick me up then. Assuming you don’t have anything else that needs fixing while I’m here?’

Kakashi blushes again. He’s probably never going to live that down. ‘Yeah uh… I’m pretty sure everything is working fine now, thanks.’

There’s an obvious smirk on Obito’s face, and it’s edging rapidly toward smug. ‘Funny that. I’ll see you at six then.’

‘Yeah… see you then.’

As soon as Obito leaves the room, Kakashi really does punch the air. Best day ever! And all thanks to Naruto’s inability to keep his mouth shut. Who’d have thought?

Minutes later he saunters from the classroom, drawing stares from his colleagues as he waltzes past them in a hazy dream-like state, whistling cheerfully.

Let them wonder. He’s got a hot date to prepare for, and he’s pretty sure it’ll be the talk of the school in due course.

But for now at least, it’s going to be a great start to the weekend.  

***

The mop seems to float, weightless in his hands, as Obito works his way down the hall, keeping a watchful eye on the time. If anyone had asked him earlier today why he thought Mr. Hatake from homeroom six was always finding so many issues with the school facilities, he would have said the man did it just to spite him.

Instead, it turns out he’s just a pervert who can’t resist the view of Obito’s ass halfway up a ladder as he changes the light bulbs. Who’d have thought?

Not that he’s complaining. There was a lot to like about the way Hatake’s stupid handsome face lit up at least five different shades of crimson when he realised Obito knew. Just the sort of gay disaster Obito’s never been able to resist.

He hums to himself, mopping right over patches of floor-bound chewing gum that would usually render him irate.

Only one hour to go, then he’s going to find out just how deep a shade of red Hatake can actually blush. Maybe even what’s behind that stupid mask of his.

Obito grins at the thought. It’s going to be a good weekend after all.

[dreamiesformula]

Triggered - Seo Changbin

When the one person you trusted to not break your heart does just that... how do you recover? Broken one too many times before can you forgive him?

To say you were insecure was an understatement, your whole life you were made to feel less than everyone else, worthless, ugly and a waste of time. That was until you met Seo Changbin rapper for famous idol group Stray Kids, exactly 2 years ago today. He made your life worth something, he made you feel loved, wanted, needed he made you feel beautiful. So you wanted to make him feel special and surprise him with lunch, before your very exciting anniversary night but shit backfires!

Y/N’s P.O.V

He is everything that’s good and I felt so bad about having to rush to my best friend Jack’s house early morning, but it was only cause he is helping me to organise Binnie’s surprise for tonight! Dinner at his favourite restaurant, 2 tickets to a Chase Atlantic concert being performed in a bar (since he said he wanted to see my favourite band live with me), then back to my place for a long night of appreciation and sentimental words, oh and loving.

Walking into the JYPE building even after all this time still made me nervous, I’d brought enough for the 10 of us to eat but probably would end up making sure Changbin ate enough for the both of us. I make my way to the dance studio where they undoubtedly are overworking to perfect their lastest comeback, but to my surprise I hear them talking.

“I just can’t handle Y/N today man, the stress and exhaustion may be getting to me but god I can’t deal with her insecurities. Every night she’s crying over something new, worrying I’ll leave her, skipping meals. Every single time I come home she’s panicked and I can��t deal with her insomnia one more sleepless night I’m gonna lose my shit.” I hear Changbin ramble on, standing at the door awe struck and frozen with fear. I hear footsteps...

“That’s not nice Changbin!” Jeongin defends me, bless him he’s always been so kind to me.

“Yeah maybe you’re being a little bit harsh, she’s had it rough and on today of all days you shouldn’t be bagging out the girl you’re dating.” Chan agrees knowing full well what today was while Changbin seemed lost.

“Today of all days? What do you mean?” Tears start rolling down my cheeks as the foot steps getting closer before you could process the door swings open revealing a very shocked looking Jeongin and scared looking Chan.

“Don’t.” I choke out handing Chan the food and with blurry vision and my head up high looking Changbin dead in the eyes. “I know where I stand, happy anniversary btw asshole. Enjoy it on your own!” Sarcasm lacing my voice as I spin on my heels ignoring the pleads of the boy who was and is my world.

Changbin’s P.O.V

I go to chase after her, I was dumb, I didn’t mean any of it. I said it myself I’m just tired and stressed, one things for sure, I need her.

“Changbin, Jyp is on his way and you know that, you can’t leave now.” Woojin scolds.

“Hyung, I cant just let her leave, not like this, not today, not anyday. I need her I was just being a dick, you all know that.” I say pointing to the members.

“I’m sorry but right now Woojin is right, she’s already gone, your damage has been dealt.” Minho backs Woojin up looking at the boy sorrow filling his eyes, Minho of all people knew the extent to which Changbin needed Y/N.

“Did you really forget what today was Bin?” Felix asks, his voice a whisper as he stood beside the boy.

“Yes.” He breaks “I fucking forgot.” He colaspes to the ground in his own sorrow he doesn’t hear his boss entering the studio.

“Changbin, what’s wrong?” The man dressed in casual attire sounds genuinely concerned.

“I-I -I’m just a bit cranky today sir, I’m sorry.” He stands up momentarily regaining his composure.

“Well you boys have tonight off, but I wanted 3 racha to go to a show tonight. The group is an Aussie group, I figured you’d like that Chan...” he chuckles to himself “the point is to widen your musical exposure and hopefully give you some ideas for beats, composition and you’ll have a chance to talk to them afterwards. In return they’ll come to your show later this month, their manager wanted them to have some free time and they wanted to check you boys out after hearing that you’ll be watching them.” They all nod Changbin regretting so afterwards.

“The show starts at 8pm, goes for about 2 hours and you’ll meet them afterwards. Changbin I know it’s your anniversary but is there anyways you could call Y/N, I’ll pay for your make up date, I know how inconvenient this must be and I’m so sorry.” He smiles genuinely patting the boy’s back and walking out.

“Fuck as if it couldn’t get any worse.” He grunts turning to Chan who’s still holding the bag.

“She brought this for us.” Chan says followed by “She’d want us to eat it regardless.” A bittersweet smile on my face as I realise exactly the magnitude to which I have just fucked up.

Y/N’S P.O.V

“Yo mitty, so I’m coming to your show tonight, was wondering if you and the boys wanted to get drinks after. Like old times back home!” I ask excitement filling my broken voice, my voice hoarse from an hour of sobbing until I decided I’d just go to my friends concert and let lose. Have a good time like we used to!

“You know I’m always down for that, but we gotta meet with some idols or something after who are coming, you’re more than welcome to join back stage. We can race fireball like old times?” The boy chuckles over the line.

“Alright Cave, you’re on!” I smile proudly knowing I’ll kick his ass just like old times!

“Alright cutie you’re on.” With that he hangs up the line, cutie was what he used to call me in highschool. Some junior tried to hit on me during our last year and he swooped into rescue me, I miss those times. No broken heart, no betrayal, just a bunch of idiot friends having a good laugh and writing some songs.

I get dressed while calling Casper to update him on the situation. I take my lacey black bra and pair it with some black ripped skinny jeans and a pair of combat boots and leather jacket to top off the bad ass bitch vibe for tonight. Put my piercings in, necklaces on, straighten my hair and do some light make up and boom ready to have an awesome time. Despite the ever growing pit of grief in my stomach, was I really that needy? Desperate? Clingy? That I managed to make Changbin the man who would always call me the love of his life, hate me.

Changbin’s P.O.V

3RACHA pulling up looking hot as fuck. Chan dressed in his mixtape 4 outfit (cause that’s a fat OOF 🤤), Han Jisung wearing his outfit from the boxer street video (p.s author loves her baby UWU he’s so handsome.) and Changbin wearing his outfit from SBS Inkigayo ep 997 (because Oml What an absolute king of I am not a goth but black is such my colour and I own this shit). Okay visual cue out!

“What the fuck is up Seoul? We’re Chase Atlantic thanks for coming out tonight.” The crowd screams “it’s super amazing to be here tonight and we hope you all have a dope time, our first song tonight is Triggered. I wanna hear you get loud.” A man with long dirty blonde / brown hair hypes the crowd up and they begin. The music itself wasn’t bad but most of the lyrics went in one ear out the other, lots about drugs but then again I only picked up half the songs contents but after all we were only there to listen to their use of sources, beats and their instruments so if it works, it works.

Next was a song called Swin, Cassie, Into It, 23, Lust, Friends, Uncomfortable, Drugs & Money, Right Here, What U Call That, Ozone, Devilish, The Walls, Okay and then they talked for a little. I scan through the crowd from our seats which were front section of second level as I was not really understanding what they were talking about until I see her, there she was, Y/N here, or at least I think it’s her I can only see her back but she’s got the jacket I gave her on. It had a SPEAR.B patch on the back, one she had designed for me when we were only known as 3RACHA. Surely it’s her the hair colour and jacket, surely that’s MY Y/N.

“Oi Chan?” I turn to the blonde haired Aussie to my left “is that Y/N?” I question pointing to where the girl is.

“Looks like it, that’s her jacket after all and this is her favourite band.” He looks slightly annoyed I hadn’t put two and two together, Aussie band, Chase Atlantic. Y/N always talked about how one day we’d go to their concert and we’d be the hottest couple because she had me. I told her I wanted to go see the things she loves. Jesus today keeps getting worse. Time ticks on and I can’t help but watch her, the girl I love, dancing with some other guy, laughing, singing, being happy. When I left her broken-hearted.

“This is our last few songs, these are You Too, Meddle About and Like A Rockstar! Enjoy Seoul you’ve been fucking awesome.”

I watch by as she gets crazy, let’s go and enjoys herself. Was she really unphased? No, I could tell, I know her better than anyone.

The boys wrap up the show and I watch as the lead singer leaves before we head back stage. My eyes searching for her, but she’s no where to be seem.

Y/N’s P.O.V

“MITTY” I scream as I hurl myself at my oldest friend who’s laying in the green room couch. “CUTIE!” He screams back tickling me “how the fuck have you been man?” I ask as we spend time catching up we hear a knock. “Yeah come in” Mitchael screams “bro my fucking ears, Jesus” I complain getting off of him and going towards Clinton as he’s where the drinks are. “Clint? Gimme something strong yeah?” I plead “Jesus rough day?” He chuckles “you have no idea man. No I fucking dear” I sigh turning around and regretting it instantly.

There he stood, Seo Changbin looking as good as ever. Without much thought I down the entire drink and head back to sit with Mitchel, Chan breaks the momentary awkward silence “hello it’s nice to meet you, we are 3RACHA.” Chan extends his hand to Mitchel but instead he bro hugs him, “how’d you enjoy the show man?” Clinton asks Changbin as they bro hug “uh... it was really good, I-I really like the uh compositions of your music-c.” I smile slightly to myself he’s doing so well my precious boy, Y/N SNAP. OUT. OF. IT. “That’s so nice, thanks bro.”

The night or the next hour and 30 minutes at least consisted of everyone sitting on the couches sharing advice, ideas, stories and me on my phone. “You know this little chick right here is pretty good with a beat, we used to have jam sessions and she always started our old songs.” Mitchel looks down at me as I occupy the space next to him, “she even sends us samples and lyrics still to this day, cutie over here got mad skills.” My eyes go wide knowing full well Changbin just heard and understood everything that was said, I hum from behind my phone screen too scared to look up in fear I’d meet his eyes. Those same eyes I can feel burning a hole into my forehead right now, “how about we watch some of your videos, I know we get to see you live soon but aye give us a sneak peak!” Clinton changes the topic, my life saver. Chan pulls out his phone and everyone huddled around where he was sitting I stand at the back close to Changbin just too rest the waters, knowing he was both sad and jealous I didn’t want to escalate things. He notices my position and while everyone is focused on the phone snakes his arm around my waist and pulls me closer into his side “baby, you know I love you. I was a dick I am so sorry. I need you to stay with me. Please love.” He whispers in my ear sending shivers down my spine as he peppers soft, sweet kisses along my neck, “we will talk about this later” I muster up all the courage I can to detach myself from his side and go back to sitting on the couch scrolling through my phone. “Y/N, you good?” Clinton asks knowing I’ve had a few drinks “yeah boys, all g” I smile.

“Talk about sick beats man, those are dope. So you make all your own shit. Composing, mixing, lyrics. The whole lot yeah?” Changbin nods “yeah the whole lot.” He smiles confidently, fuck he’s making this hard.

[breakingmllc]

Once Upon A Time There Was A Girl Who Really Loves Knitting And Dogs It Was Me The End Heart T Shirt

Yesterday was a Once Upon A Time There Was A Girl Who Really Loves Knitting And Dogs It Was Me The End Heart T Shirt busy day of meetings and airplane travel for peter and connor but last night peter took some time to share his thoughts on the passing of the great christopher lee christopher lee was the tallest actor I ever knew he was also by far the most literate when we first met in a los angeles studio where he was recording his lines as king haggard in the last unicorn he had just recorded haggard’s speech about his first sight of unicorns and I mentioned that it was probably my favorite speech in the book he immediately wanted to know well did I do it properly we can always redo it right here of course he’d handled the lines perfectly but writers and writers’ opinions about their work mattered intensely to christopher that same afternoon we discovered that between the two of us we we could call to mind just about all the lines of g k chesterton’s poem the rolling english road we also discovered a mutual need to hit the men’s room and my son dan in his mid teens at the time still has a very clear memory of christopher simultaneously peeing while declaiming in that voice which no one could ever keep from imitating after fifteen minutes with him before the roman came to rye or out to severn strode the rolling english drunkard made the rolling english road a reeling road a rolling road that rambled round the shire and after him the parson ran the sexton and the squire I leave it to the reader to imagine that voice in the tiled acoustics of a hollywood bathroom we met a second time in munich where the last unicorn was being dubbed into german most of my memories of that time and of chris lee have to do with books and authors he had known both j r r tolkien and a writer who mattered more to me t h white we had a long ongoing argument in munich about a chapter of the sword in the stone that appears in the english edition of the book but not in the american one he turned out to be right he usually was he never failed to mention the last unicorn as one of his very favorite books and as one of the movies he was most proud of having made indeed he left my whopperjawed as mark twain would have put it when we were being interviewed together on austrian television and he announced oh yes I simply couldn’t resist a chance to play king haggard one more time even in another language after all and he looked straight into the camera it’s the closest they’ll ever let me get to playing king lear the camera swung toward me to catch my stunned reaction and chris looked across the studio at me and winked but my most vivid memory chilling as it remains to this day has to do with the day that I and michael chase walker associate producer of the last unicorn and the one who really got the film made in the first place somehow found our way out to dachau I can’t now recall how we managed it considering that neither one of us spoke german and that you had to take both a subway and a bus to get there from the hotel where the crew were staying but we got there somehow and spent a good half of the day roaming with other tourists around a legendary concentration camp peering blindly into the huge crematoriums but staring with equal horror and fascination at the endless rows of filing cabinets containing every record of every human being who was ever imprisoned starved gassed or simply worked to death in this place michael and I grew quieter and quieter that afternoon until by the time we started back to munich we weren’t speaking at all I think we both felt that we might say anything in words again the first person we met in the hotel lobby was christopher he took one look at us and announced you’ve been to dachau we nodded without answering chris strode toward us looked all the way down from his six foot five inch altitude lowered his voice and inquired still smells doesn’t it with the end of world war ii christopher as a member of the special forces and whose five or six languages included fluent german had been assigned to hunt down and interrogate nazi war crminals and had been present at the liberation of dachau and yes the smell of death had undoubtedly faded somewhat since 1945 but it was still as real as michael and me wandering dazedly between the ovens and the filing system we just didn’t know what it was but christopher did and i’d know it again I never saw him again after munich though we spoke on the telephone a few times on the last occasion when I had called to wish him a happy 90th birthday I remember him assuring me that if by the time you come to make your live action version of your movie I have passed on do not let it concern you I have risen from the dead several times I know how it’s done he worked almost to the last as the real artists of every kind do they work to be working because that’s what they do and they die when they stop I always regarded him as the last of the great 19th century actors that bravura larger than life style went with him no modern rada trained performer would ever attempt it today nor should they it would inevitably come out parody however earnestly meant yet there was always more to christopher lee as an actor than dracula or the mummy or saruman or sherlock holmes for that matter though he was very proud of having played not only both holmes and watson but sherlock’s brother mycroft as well lord summerisle of the original the wicker man probably his favorite of his own movies is most likely closer to chris’s dark benignity than any other role he ever inhabited I believe this because lord summerisle sings a surprising amount in that movie and chris passionately loved singing if there is any such thing as an afterlife or reincarnation I truly hope no believe that christopher lee will return as a wagnerian opera singer if he hadn’t been considered too old in his 30s to be accepted for formal vocal training he might have been in his own eyes at least a happier more fulfilled man but we would have been deeply poorer for it and never have known. Wild horses have lived in the kisatchie national forest and fort polk for over 150 years now however despite public outcry and ongoing litigation the u s army is removing horses from fort polk with many of them ending up in a kill pen you can help save these historic horses by signing a petition below and by making a donation to our friends at the pegasus equine guardian association to fund its rescue fostering adoption efforts at. She needs the best emcee baby do you want me please say yes you do come tidy up my crib I can tell you wanna peace to jane fonda let’s play like honda trucks peace to you for makin big bucks time is upon us you’re the star I like it you rule my world like the vikings u were at the corner store paparottzi made a sighting finer than pizza and cool like lightening so stop hiding come inside baby im wating for you your so true wrote that in 4 mins what you think bro

Source: Once Upon A Time There Was A Girl Who Really Loves Knitting And Dogs It Was Me The End Heart T Shirt

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Premium Trending, Medical This Summer Season will Presents Who Love:

Seriously loving my new touch of nude lipstick I normally hate brown tones on me but this is the Once Upon A Time There Was A Girl Who Really Loves Knitting And Dogs It Was Me The End Heart T Shirt perfect nude brown that I think will now become my new go to can’t go wrong shade so moisturizing too but not too creamy where it’s slides around on your lips. In response to last week s tatoosday post we got so many tattoos from last unicorn fans around the world that it will take months to showcase all of them to help make things go slightly faster than that and because it s neat to compare and contrast we re going to make today a two tattoosday post take a look at these very different approaches to showing the human and unicorn versions of peter s classic character in one image ashley knight schroeder s tattoo is beautifully stylized I just got this done on saturday the last unicorn has touched my life and helped me through many a rough patch even my sons will watch with me and sing talk along to the movie rippy s tattoos did the work I have no idea who did the original design I saw it and feel in love would love to find the original artist brittni lynn martin and her artist phil meyers from california opted for classic heartfelt look this movie has been my favorite since I was little and is now my favorite book and I have a 3 year old daughter who also loves it and we watch it together so it’s been a huge part of my life so beautiful both of these. If your events calendar or feed is full of baby showers anxiety this is for you life is busy but gifting a new mom baby should be easy with our collection of cute coordinating outfit sets multi packs stress less shop bundles baby place See Other related products: Once Upon A Time There Was A Girl Who Really Loves Knitting And Dogs It Was Me The End Heart T Shirt

[izzyovercoffee]

Title: fair as fair  Characters: Null ARC Lt. N-5 Prudii & Null ARC Lt. N-7 Mereel  Fandom: Star Wars: Republic Commando Rating: PG Word Count: ~1060 Prompt: 13 - his smile, his laughs Summary: Sometimes, there are good ways, and better ways, to end a night and a party. The crash after is better with a brother close at hand. Expect: Some allusions to an awesome party. Mereel had exactly enough to drink and it was a good time. Also they didn’t brush their teeth and I promise you they’re gonna regret that in the morning.

Laughter spilled out from down the long corridor, broken only by the shuffle of fabric and the rough attempts to muffle the noise they’re making. Prudii first from around the corner, his vest flapped open, undershirt half tucked over slacks slightly ajar on sharp hips. One arm hung over his shoulder, held up and tight to his side hung Mereel, a deep red stain on his right side, only slightly-hidden by vest still single-buttoned.

“’That’s no way to end a party’,” Prudii mocked softly in the evening’s quiet as Mereel tightened his grip, elbow bending to tug Prudii’s head to his. Temple to temple, and Mereel turned his wide grin against Prudii’s cheek. “Who ever says that seriously? And at his party?” 

“We did him a favor.” Mereel laughed. “’I gotta take it, you boys really know how to liven things up’, smarmy mir’sheb.” He cracked out of the mock voice halfway through with a soft giggle as he reached into his pocket, careful of the hole in his side, and pulled out a passcard. 

They stopped at a door, and Mereel gently tapped the pass to the wall panel. It blinked twice, and unlocked the door. It hissed open on smooth hydraulic rails and disappeared into the wall, allowing them both inside.

Without preamble, Mereel kicked up off the ground. Prudii fumbled for half a second before catching both Mereel’s legs --- as Mereel hissed softly into his shoulder. “Shab, shab, shouldn’t have ---” he broke off into soft, drunk, giggles “---shouldn’t have done that. Ow.” 

“Di’kut,” Prudii laughed, then dipped Mereel head-side low and feet high as he whisked him into Mereel’s suite. The door hissed closed behind them, and locked immediately. “That patch job’ll rip open if you try that again.”

“Doc always does a good job, don’t lie to me.” He tucked his chin over Prudii’s shoulder with a sigh, hands fishing under his vest to remove the concealed armor plates for him. “It’d take at least three more tries.”

“Did you see her face when I dropped you on her bench?” 

Mereel’s expression darkened, stone cold and serious: “’Again, May-ren? Wait until I tell your wife.’“

Prudii snorted as he adjusted his grip, holding Mereel up with one hand. “I don’t know why she expects any of us to arrive without at least one new hole put in us we didn’t ask for.” 

“Speak for yourself.” Mereel tugged the last of Prudii’s armor plates off and tossed them to the open case as they passed. “I asked for mine. I just didn’t expect to get it.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Prudii sighed as he plucked two bottles of water off the counter --- the exact two he’d left there before they left. “That’s what you get for not layering up. You don’t have an excuse for it, either.”

“Why?” Mereel’s words slurred as his laughs died down. “Because I had more time to get ready, waiting on you?” 

Prudii rounded the couch and passed into the bedroom. “Exactly right, ner vod.” He lowered Mereel to the bed, and shook his head softly. “A whole forty minutes to make it work.”

“I wanted to be fashionably late, not atrociously.”

“And I wanted to be thorough.” 

Mereel snorted as Prudii helped him peel the shirt off his frame. Even cleaned up, cleaned out, stapled and patched up, he knew it’d be too hard to get out of his clothes alone. If Prudii's anything, it’s thoughtful.

“Oh please, Prudii. Thorough?” 

“Hey,” Prudii grinned as he rolled up the bloodied shirt in his hands. “There’s no better excuse for fashionably late than a beautiful verd in your bed. But you know what there is no excuse for? Sloppy work.” 

Mereel flopped --- delicately, gently, carefully, but still flopped --- back onto the bed. Got to stripping down to his briefs with a huff as Prudii set the bottles of water on the side table to Mereel’s immediate left. 

“I never pegged you for a romantic, ner vod.” 

“I’m full of mysteries.” Prudii tossed his own clothes to the corner. Down to his boxers, he delicately patted his stomach. He ached in several places, and could already feel the edges of extra-sensitive patches that undoubtedly would darken an ugly purple come morning. 

It’s enough to make him grin wider. After all that time, he still couldn’t think of a better way to end a party.

Prudii turned around, and found Mereel propped up with back against the headboard, dutifully drinking his water. Good, good.

He never was as difficult as some people. Lookin’ at you, Jaing. 

With a sigh he crossed around the bed, helping himself under the covers on the other side. 

“You drink, D’ika?” 

Prudii lowered himself into the pillow, pulling the blankets up as he did. He thought about the cravings that itched under his skin. The smell of sweet, sharp, liquor thrown around like amber, like everything else easy on the eyes and smooth going down at that party.

“No.” 

But then the fight ... 

“Got close, though.”

He felt rather than saw Mereel set down the emptied bottle of water out of sight. “That why you decked him?”

“No.” Prudii’s sober expression broke apart under a sharpened grin a second time. “He insulted his lady.” 

“No...” Mereel gasped softly, scandalized. 

“Yeah. I didn’t expect it, but he just did it.” He rubbed a palm over the short hairs clipped close to the sides of his head. “And maybe I was a little too wound up. Needed a distraction.” 

The bed shifted as Mereel sunk beneath the covers, too. And shook as he laughed. “What a distraction.”

“Yeah.” Prudii huffed. “I can’t believe you threw him off the balcony.”

“I didn’t know he deserved it. It just felt right at the time.”

They laughed. 

“What a way to end a night.” 

“Yeah.” 

Prudii reached over to the side, and hit the nearby panel. The lights flickered off. 

“Let’s do this again, D’ika.”

“Of course.” He draped an arm over his eyes. “Just try not to get run through again, alright?” 

“Me?” Mereel muttered, in the way his vod does when he’s fading fast. “...out of the last six times, s’only happened twice.” 

“Two more than me, ner vod.”

Mereel shifted, froze, and then eased up over a controlled exhale. Yeah, Prudii could tell that hurt. “...that’s fair.”

Prudii shook his head. “That’s what I thought.” 

The bed rumbled with Mereel’s soft laughs. “Point taken. Good night, D’ika.”

Jare’la di’kut. Prudii couldn’t help the grin. “Night night, Mer’.” 

[starsinursa]

Questions for Grown-Ups

No one tagged me but I’m doing this anyways, sorry, not sorry

Tired of those surveys made by high school kids? “Have you ever kissed someone? Missed someone? Drank alcohol?”

Here are 35 questions for Grown Ups:

1. What bill do you hate paying the most?: Probably student loans. I just have so much student loan debt. I will seriously be paying on those loans for the next ten years. 2. Where was the last place you had a romantic dinner?: …does…does by myself count? Because I took myself out for a nice steak dinner and sipped on some delicious margaritas about five months ago. I just take a book with me and read while I eat.

3. What do you really want to be doing right now?: I’m pretty content at the moment. I’m off work, in pajamas, lounging on my bed with the puppers and the kitty. 

4. How many colleges did you attend?: Two. I attended the same university for all four years of my undergrad and I graduated with a Bachelor’s in Psychology, and then I took grad classes in Counseling at another college for a couple of semesters. Didn’t end up finishing the graduate program though because there was a super intensive field practicum required to complete the degree and I was already working full-time at my current job, and I really don’t want to quit my job so I can get the degree, turn around, and then have to find another job. 

5. Why did you choose the shirt you have on now?: …it’s a gray T-shirt with a cartoon cat and it says “R U Kitten Me Right Meow?!” 😂 I picked it because it made me laugh? 

6. Thoughts on gas prices?: Not terrible at the moment, currently $1.99/ gallon here. And I saved $0.30/ gallon the other day by using my Dillons gas card. WOOHOO, saving money on gas like an ADULT!

7. First thought when the alarm goes off in the morning?: “Fuckkk…. if I sleep for a while longer and show up late to work, how late is ‘too late’?”

8. Last thought you have before you go to bed?: “Goddamnit, Tera, you said you were going to bed at 9:30 tonight and now it’s 1 a.m. Are you happy now? ARE YOU HAPPY NOW?”

9. Do you miss being a child?: Nah. Besides paying bills, I LOVE being an adult. Some people say high school is the best time of your life, some people say college is the best, but my 20′s have undoubtedly been the best so far. Living on my own, doing what I want to do, disposable income, no homework… yes, please.

10. What errand/chore do you despise the most?: Washing dishes. I don’t have a dishwasher at my house and I loathe washing dishes by hand. I hate it so, so much. I literally only use paper plates, styrofoam bowls, and plastic silverware. I just throw everything away when I’m done so I never have to wash dishes. Yes, I hate dishes that much.

11. Up early or sleep in?: Sleep in. I love sleeping in but just never get the chance… or if I do, I wake up early anyways!

12. Found love yet?: Not yet, I am a single pringle. Probably staying that way for a while, too, because all I do is work and then go home, I don’t go anywhere to meet new people. Occasionally I sign up for a dating app, but then I panic and immediately delete it.

13. Favorite lunch meat?: Turkey. Actually, that’s like the ONLY lunch meat I like. I don’t like ham, roast beef… but surprisingly, I do like bologna!

14. What do you get at the grocery store every time?: I’m always stocking up on frozen meals to take to work. I am a lazy cook… as in, I don’t cook. I CAN cook, but I don’t. Cooking for one person is just too much effort.

15. Beach or lake?: Beach. Although, considering I’m in Kansas, there are zero legit beaches around here. Unless you count lake beaches?

16. Is marriage outdated?: I mean, not to me? I’d still like to get married someday. I know it’s not necessary and just a social construct and blah blah, but I still really like the idea of it, at least for myself. Under my sarcastic shell, I am a big soppy romantic at heart. No judgment on anyone who doesn’t wanna go that route though, live and let live. 😊

17. What famous person would you like to have dinner with?: Misha Collins, obviously, because he would be hilarious and adorable. Or Keanu Reeves. Or I would really have loved to meet Leonard Nimoy before he passed away. He just seemed like an amazing man and I bet he had some really great stories and life perspectives to share.

18. Ever crashed your vehicle?: My vehicle has been crashed, yes, but it wasn’t me who crashed it, thank you very much. I’ve been hit by other drivers a couple of times. Not in my new car, thankfully.

19. Do you have any regrets?: I mean, nothing that I would go back and change. I have some small things I wonder about occasionally, but I’m pretty content with the course my life has taken. Even the rough patches have helped me learn. I’m happy where I am, so that’s all that matters.

20. Strangest place you’ve brushed your teeth?: In an airport bathroom. Hey, those layovers can be excruciating, and I’d hate to subject my fellow flyers to my airport breath.

21. Somewhere you’ve never been but want to go?: Ireland. It’s on the bucket list, but I’ve decided to see some other places first. Thailand, here I come!

22. At this point, would you want to start a new career?: No, and that’s part of why I didn’t finish getting my graduate degree. I really enjoy my work (most of the time) and working with adults with disabilities actually lets me feel like I’m making a difference every now and then, so I’m not looking to change careers.

23. How old are you?: I’m on the downward slope of 25 (26 in two months, how do I stop this whole ‘getting older’ thing?)

24. Do you have a go-to person?: Probably my aunt. She works in a similar career as me, so I can talk to her about work problems or get advice. We’re also a lot alike, including being single with no kids, rescuing animals, etc., so we have a lot in common and use each other as a support system.

25. Are you where you want to be in life?: Actually, yeah, I’m pretty content. I would still like to get a Master’s degree someday (if I could find a degree without a practicum so I wouldn’t have to quit my job) and I’d eventually like to buy a house instead of just renting, but otherwise, I’m good.

26. Growing up, what were your favorite cartoons?: Rugrats, Hey Arnold, The Wild Thornberrys, and The Fairly Oddparents

27. What do you think has changed about you since you were a teenager?: Oh my god, sooo much. I feel like I’ve come out of my shell a lot, and also become a lot more at peace with who I am. I don’t worry so much what people think of me anymore. I mean, I’m still super introverted and I’ve still got all my faults, but I beat myself up less about all of it, y’know?

28. Looking back at high school, were they the best years of your life?: Pffft. PFFFT. Yeah right. High school was…not bad, I had my little group of friends and went to a really small school where everyone was pretty chill, but I do not miss the teenage hormones and insecurities and constant worry about the future. 

29. Are there times you still feel like a kid?: Sometimes. Well, not really like a ‘kid’, but sometimes at work I’ll notice my age and feel weirdly young if I’m in a meeting with coworkers who are a lot older than me. And even if they aren’t too much older than me, almost all of my coworkers have kids, so it’s hard to find things in common sometimes. 

30. Did you have a pager?: No, I’m not that old, haha. But I did have one of those old-school flip phones that couldn’t even text.

31. Was there a hang-out spot when you were a kid?: Yeah, there were a few. Out at the old Union Pacific railroad bridge. Downtown. A couple of party houses.

32. Were you the type of kid you’d want your children to hang out with?: Depends on my age. 😂 I was mostly a decent kid who got good grades and didn’t get into much trouble, but I went through my crazy, rebellious phase too… drinking, smoking, truancy, sex… ah, yes, being 16 was an interesting time for me.

33. Was there a teacher or figure that stood out to you?: I had a really fantastic school counselor when I was going through that rebellious phase. I was forced to see her and wasn’t happy about it, but she turned out to be awesome. A lot of times, she didn’t even make me talk about school or home, she’d just let me ramble on about things I liked, the books I was reading, my favorite movies, etc. She’d just sit and bullshit with me and didn’t treat me like a kid or talk down to me. I first became interested in psychology and counseling because of her.

34. Do you tell stories that start with “when I was your age”?: Definitely. Kids these days! When I was their age, I was already washing dishes in a restaurant. I started working at age 14 and have never stopped. And my parents didn’t buy me a car, I had to save up and bought my first car by myself for $500. And my parents didn’t pay for my college either, I had to take out tons of student loans and work 30 hours/ week on top of a full course load so I could pay all my own bills (I’m a bitter old woman, can you tell? 😌).

35. Are you religious?: Umm…I used to be, not so much anymore. My step-dad is a pastor though, plus my sister is really religious and attends a private Christian college, so I’m still around it quite a bit. Needless to say, there’s a few things they don’t know about me, including the fact that I work part-time at an adult store.

Tagging: all my “grown-up” friends who would like to do this! Dooo it!

[vieuxnoyesrp]

  ⚜  One year since the inception of Vieux Noyés RP!  ⚜

In honor of a year of creativity, inspiration, and much, much love, we’d like to share with you a glimpse at how much VN has meant to us in the past year. Where we were then, and how far we’ve come, all thanks to you. ♥

- Rose -

To me, VN is the definition of a labour of love. First, it was a love of these characters and a desire to see them explored in a more intimate and, in my opinion, authentic way. To see them develop to their full potential without the hindrance of time, commercial appeal or tv budgets. At the same time it was a love of collaboration with the two beautiful and incredibly talented women I have at my side; Kailey and Rimsha. They were the ones who inspired me to pursue this idea, who told me that I could, even when I doubted it. Without them; without Kailey’s enthusiastic push and overconfidence in me, without Rimsha’s affectionate cheerleading, VN may very well not have happened. 

It wasn’t always smooth sailing though; VN came with a lot of hard work (both collaborative and independent), endless brainstorming sessions, and the occasional heated passionate debate - just to keep things interesting. Throughout easy days and not-so-easy days, we’ve stuck it out as a team. I have so much trust and respect for these ladies that I could go on for pages. But suffice it to say, given the chance to do it all again, I couldn’t and wouldn’t have chosen a more trusted team by my side.

Last but not least, VN to me, became a deep fondness and love for the roleplayers we’ve been fortunate enough to attract. Every day I read the dash and am awed to have such extraordinary talent in our group. I check into the OOC after a long day at work - and it feels like coming home. You support one another, laugh together, and pick each other up on the rough days. This, to me, is undoubtedly the best thing about VN. And I am so humbled and so grateful to each and every one of you for joining and bolstering this dream.

A year ago, I was coming out of a difficult period in my life. I had recently lost my grandmother, I was struggling with a job I disliked, and I was studying for take-two of the MCAT/medical school entry exam (0/10 would not recommend, would not do again). I was down on my self-esteem, uncertain of my future, and kept joking about how I’d hit a ’Quarter Life Crisis’. A year since, and I’m in a much happier place; accepted into medical school, content with the present and yet looking forward to the future. So many of you have helped support me through this process and encouraged me through the crappy days. Thank you. Thanks so much to each and every one of you for making the dream a reality and joining us on this wild ride! Here’s to many more anniversaries to come! Laissez les bons temps rouler! ♥ ⚜

Also if you read all this you’re a champ. You go, Glen Coco

- Rimsha -

It’s hard to believe that we’ve come full circle. I remember well how and when the idea of VN was conceived. A brilliant idea that bloomed in Rose’s mind and one for which she had a lot of devotion and determination to see it realized. Like Rose, I too was going through a bit of a rough patch in life at the time -- turmoil on the career and Academic front, even within my family unit. Once VN had taken flight, it had fueled me to spend time plotting, planning, tinkering and helping bring it to life. A place that would house our muses for the supernatural, TO, and TVD character portrayals. But boy has it turned out to be so much more than that. I think it's safe to say that it's has exceeded our expectations, and then some.

It has been an honour being on the admin team of this roleplay, an honour to meet and interact with such a talented roster of writers who’ve brought so much enthusiasm. The part that particularly makes me proud is that we've been able to build a community, nay, a family. It's an environment where everyone truly shares ideas, moments, and most importantly supports one another. I cannot count the amount of times we’ve practically gushed on our admin chat about how it makes our hearts swell to see all of your reaching out to one another. I love how literally everyone has taken to the "no one gets left behind " mentality that we advocated from the very beginning. Thank you so much guys for all that you do, and please keep up that stellar streak. You’ve played an immense role in helping VN come this far. 

Unlike my two kick-ass admins, this was my first shot at admining. But I can definitely say that I’ve learned a whole lot from them over the course of this year. I think both Kailey and Rose deserve a hell of a lot of credit for all the time and effort they’ve put into this roleplay, for remaining so determined, for being there to restore my own drive, and also for being a bottomless pool of inspiration. To you both, I just wanna say, thank you for including me in your vision, for guiding me, and showing me the ropes. I’m honoured to work along side the two of you. And cannot wait to hatch more great plans with you. 

But while we’ve come this far, this is still only the beginning. So here’s to making many more memories. Stay awesome VN Fam! <3

- Kailey - 

It’s hard for me to think back to this time last year, to remember what a different person I was, how different my life was from where I am now. A year ago, I was finishing off my first year of grad school, the year I thought would for sure be the hardest year of my life wrong. My baby, my dream, Lifelines RP, had died, and with it, it had felt like I had lost all of my creative movement. Any desire to write had been drained from me in a lethal combination of literary grief and end-of-term papers. And then came VN. 

I’ve been known for being a bit overenthusiastic when I’ve got a plot rolling through my mind, and the minute the idea of VN was put before me, well I have to admit I was relentless, obsessed, inspired. I maybe bullied Rose into believing she could do this, and I don’t regret it for a single moment. Between the three of us, with Rose’s unending patience and passion, Rimsha’s incredible talent for world-building, and my dogged bites at their heels, VN was born. VN became beautiful, right in front of our eyes. We were so nervous, to tell you guys the truth. There was so much we could, and did, get wrong on the way here. But we stuck it out, and then, came you. 

We had hoped that our OOC would be a comfortable place, where people felt free to chat and share about themselves, where they felt like they had friends to talk to. But this? You guys have blown us away. You’ve opened your hearts to us, and you’ve jumped full-throttle onto our crazy train, and taken us places we had never even hoped we could go. VN’s become my life, my hobby, my work, my pride. My supervisor wants to join, guys. I kid you not. VN’s become my second family, something I had no idea how much I would need this year. 

I haven’t been around as often as I’d like to be, but I’m with you all every day, marveling in the beauty of the space and the stories we share. A year ago, Rose lost her grandmother, and we didn’t have VN yet. With how devastated she was, I wasn’t sure we’d ever write together again. In its infinite cruelty, I’m on my way home tomorrow, to (hopefully) see my grandpa one more time before he passes. I’m not okay, to be honest, but I know I’ll have my family, both of them, with me the whole time. I can’t tell you how much you all mean to me, and how closely I carry you to my heart each and every single day. 

                With love from our hearts to yours, may we write many more stories together,                                                     your admins ♥ 

                       ⚜  Laissez les bons temps rouler! ⚜

[xechowritesx]

Champagne Problems || Bucky x Reader

Summary → Bucky misses one too many date nights & when he misses your anniversary dinner, it’s the last straw. Inspired by this song. 

Word Count → 1.9K (Yikes, I got carried away…)

Warnings → Cursing, unprotected sex, angry/angst sex, slight choking.

How did our clothes end up all on the floor? Didn’t we just break each other’s hearts? Didn’t you have one foot out of the door?

A comfortable silence had fallen over the small apartment, interrupted only by the rhythmic tick and tock of the neatly hung wall clock just above the mantle. The quiet made you acutely aware of the likely argument that would ensue the moment Bucky walked through the door, and despite that knowledge, you remained pleasantly numb to the situation. A numbness you attributed to your increasing inebriation and being more than accustomed to Bucky’s broken promises.

Truth be told, you were exceptionally understanding and overly patient to the demands and requirements of Bucky’s “job” as an Avenger. You never complained when he was sent away on particularly lengthy missions, you never protested when he got drinks with Steve and Sam, and you had even forgiven him for forgetting your twenty-sixth birthday a few weeks prior. But tonight, wasn’t just a forgotten date night or missed movie, it was your two-year anniversary.

You mentally chastised yourself for believing he’d act any different toward the anniversary, especially considering how the past twenty-four months had gone. But despite all the letdowns and broken promises, your fierce love for the super soldier always supplied you with reasons to stay. Reaching for the half-empty bottle of Dom Perignon on the coffee table, you wondered if you’d be able to manage that tonight. You tightened your grip on the glass bottle as you laid back on the sofa, taking yet another sizable gulp of the effervescent substance.

A small grin tugged the corners of your lips at the humming sensation the liquid produced throughout your frame. You’d spent nearly $400 on just three bottles of champagne, per Tony’s recommendation, positive the evening would be spent between glasses of bubbly and passionate kisses. But here you were, mostly drunk, sipping away nearly a fourth of your monthly salary. You couldn’t help the chuckle that tumbled from your lips considering the ridiculous situation you found yourself in.

“Doll, I’m home!” The creaking sound of the front door paired with Bucky’s husky voice thrust you back into reality. You remained strewn across the sofa, incapable of being bothered to greet him. “Oh, Jesus, Y/N…”

You took his utterance as indication that he’d only just realized what he had missed. You swallowed back the rage that bubbled up in your chest, biting back the snarky remark on the tip of your tongue. Instead, you opted for more champagne, noting you’d have to open a second bottle promptly.  

“I’m so sor-”

“Honestly, it’s fine.” You shrugged the interruption, turning back to meet Bucky’s apologetic gaze. Kicking off your black stilettos, you pushed onto the balls of your feet and trudged toward the kitchen. “The filet mignon is uneatable by now, but there’s fancy champagne in the fridge.”

Bucky sauntered silently into the kitchen, propping open the fridge door and retrieving one of the two remaining bottles. Leaning against the counter you watched as Bucky popped it open and took a long swing. Taking his place directly across from you, an uncomfortable tension fell over the both of you.  

“How many times have we been here before?” You mused, more to yourself than to Bucky. It was a sobering question nonetheless that hit Bucky square in the chest, half-knocking the wind out of him.

“Too many.” He confessed.

 A beat.

“I’ll stay the night,” you decided, “but I’ll head to Tony’s in the morning. At least for a few days.” Bucky’s demeanor visibly shifted from apologetic to irate.

“Stark? Really?”

“Don’t make this about Tony, you ass.” You rolled your eyes, tossing the now empty bottle into the trash bin.

“You’re the one that always finds a way to bring him up.” You rolled your eyes, shaking your head knowingly. 

“And you’re the one that missed our fucking anniversary.” Bucky harrumphed at the retort, slamming his hands against the counter.

“Not by choice!” He barked. “The mission was excruciatingly detailed, not to mention I had to sit through several debriefs and the team wanted to grab drinks the minute we got back.” 

“Huh, drinks. I should have known.” You half-chuckled, turning determinedly on your heel and making your way down the hall. Your footsteps were followed closely by Bucky’s heavy, uneven gait. Plopping down on the edge your shared bed, you watched Bucky swagger into the room, chest heaving in frustration.

“I always make it up to you.” Bucky noted, pacing angrily before you.

“I don’t care about you missing dinner or always being late,” you paused, “I just wish you’d make me a priority in your life.” 

“And I guess Tony makes you a priority?” Bucky questioned, voice a few octaves lower, dripping with jealously. 

“For fuck’s sake, James. He’s just my best friend.”

“Go to him then!” Bucky interrupted through gritted teeth as his pacing came to an abrupt stop. Your eyes widened as his metal fist connected with the empty patch of wall just beside the dresser in a sudden and furious impact. The drywall crumbled beneath his superior strength, his arm suddenly elbow deep in the wall. “Leave me!” He demanded, leaning forward to rest his forehead against the wall.

 “I’m not leaving you for Tony, you ridiculous idiot.” You persisted.

“Are you deaf? Get the fuck out!” Bucky’s anger only seemed to increase, his mind undoubtedly racing with a combination of insecurities and regret.

“Please…” With a few short strides and no apprehension, you placed yourself between Bucky’s muscular frame and the wall; your small stature allowing you to fit neatly in the space. Before you could utter another word, Bucky’s metal arm moved from the wall toward your throat. You gasped as his metal fingers wrapped just beneath your jaw and kept you gently in place.

“Why do you stay?” He grunted.

“Because even when you break your promises and my heart in the process, I can’t stop loving you.” A few tears you hadn’t realized you were holding back began streaming down your cheeks. Bucky’s jaw locked in determination as his gaze narrowed on your pained expression. When you met his icy blues once again, you knew he would be torturously thorough in fucking you tonight.

Bucky dipped down to take your mouth in a rough kiss, it was hungry but passionate enough to draw out involuntary moans from the back of your throat. He used the opportunity to push his tongue past your lips and hungrily explore every corner of your mouth, taking dominance over your tongue with ease. His hands moved frantically to grasp the back of your thighs, pulling you up to straddle his waist as he kept you pressed against the wall. His hips bucked vigorously into yours, making his growing erection evident even through his tight-fitting jeans. He grappled onto your hips harshly as he pushed off the wall and dumped you onto the bed.

Bucky made quick work of his wine-colored Henley and dark jeans, tossing them carelessly aside. You fumbled to remove your black dress, struggling to reach its zipper. But before you could manage to rid yourself of it, Bucky was on top of you again, his lips streaming profanities. You yelped as he ripped the material off your body, evidence that his patience had worn thin. You watched with anticipation as the same fate was inflicted upon the delicate black lingerie you’d recently purchased. Bucky’s movements were rapid and sharp, and before you could fully comprehend his intentions, he had you flat on your stomach. His swollen member moved against your wet folds, pausing at your entrance and awaiting permission.

“Yes, Bucky, please.” Bucky let out a guttural groan as he thrust into you, his thick, hard length heating your core. Your walls stretched to fit his cock, eliciting a slew of angry confessions and erotic expletives from Bucky’s lips.

“You’re so fucking wet, Y/N.” He hummed against your neck, taking a fistful of your hair and forcing you to arch back onto his dick. 

Bucky’s relentless hips set a rapid and aggressive pace at once, fully focused on making you unravel beneath him. Each thrust filled you to the brim, his balls slapping deliciously against your clit and jolting you with pleasure. It wasn’t uncommon for the pair of you to indulge in rough sex, but this was dangerous and angry, almost as if he had to punish the orgasm out of the both of you. It was so much better than anything you could have asked for; and you quickly found yourself closer and closer to reaching the very peak of pleasure.

“Slow down.” You moaned breathlessly, hoping to prolong the sheer ecstasy of your oncoming orgasm.    

Bucky immediately obliged, gripping your shoulders as he pulled entirely out of you. He flipped you onto your back with ease, his hands moving to spread open your milky thighs. You laid completely exposed and vulnerable before him, hair a disheveled mess, cheeks rosy from exertion, and undeniably ready for more. Bucky wasted no time in pushing back into you, burying himself as deep in your cunt as he could manage. Bucky rolled his hips into you at a calculated pace, making every inch of his cock deliberate and meaningful. His thumb moved to find your clit in a mess of skin and sweat, a scream building as he traced rapid figure eights against your most sensitive skin.

“Bucky!” The scream erupted. “I’m so fucking close!” You were unashamedly begging now, nails dragging down Bucky’s muscular back.  

“C’mon doll,” Bucky encouraged, “cum for me.”

Bucky quickly found the same aggressive pace from earlier as he wrapped your legs tightly around his waist. The new position provided him with a deeper angle, which allowed him to hit a sensitive bundle of nerves with each roll of his hips. The pressure of your orgasm began escalating rapidly once more and Bucky greedily drew it from you. Your head lulled back as you fell of the precipice, your orgasm rocking through your entire being. You shook in gratitude as he continued slamming into you, chasing after his own release.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” Bucky huffed, using the wooden headboard to brace himself. “Stay.” He breathed, somewhere between a plea and a demand. Your mind and body had separated completely, the first unable to control the later. You were utterly incapable of forming words from the sheer pleasure Bucky was inflicting upon your body. “I begging you.” 

“B-bucky, yes, yes.” You managed to stammer through ragged breaths. “I’ll stay.” His thrusts grew erratic and far less calculated, indicating he was much closer to finishing that you thought. His hands dragged down to cradle your face as he pulled his length out entirely before slamming it back in.

“I’ll never leave.” You promised, craning your neck to kiss his lips. “You’re worth it all.” 

Bucky groaned in relief at the sound of your words, spilling his hot semen into you. He rode out his high with a few more thrusts, filling you to the very brim. His torso stilled and fell limp onto the bed beside you as his arms pulled you protectively into him. You curled into his broad, muscular chest, nuzzling against his scorching skin. Bucky pressed a tender kiss to your forehead before leaning his cheek against the top of your head. 

“God, doll, we should argue more often.” Bucky teased with a soft chuckle. You playfully slapped his chest, rolling your eyes.

“You better buy the champagne next time.” You snorted.

[catearsandchaos]

So sometimes I remember that I made this blog with the vague intention of actually storing some of my work on here. So this is one such occasion. This is an odd and quite lighthearted piece, which is unusual for me, that I wrote in a lesson near exam time last year when I was feeling pretty stressed. I just picked up a spare piece of paper and started writing about a peaceful environment. Somewhere I would really like to be. And this just grew from it. It’s not much of anything, but working on it during lessons when the exam prep got just a little too much really helped. 

But before I do that, I just want to mention a few things because there are so many amazing people on this site who have made me happy in little ways without even realising it. About a week ago now, I took down all the names of the blogs that I follow and loaded them all into a random name chooser on my iPad. And every morning after I finish my breakfast, I pull up a name and send them a message and a hug. Because I’m going through a bit of a rough patch at the moment and I know that others are too. So anything I can do to send a little happiness someone’s way, I will do. Because it’s important, every now and then, to be reminded that there are people out there who care for you and believe in you, even if you don’t know them. 

So I’ve sent out around 6 hugs so far and plan to continue doing so for as long as I can. Y’all can expect my name to pop up on your dash a lot more. And sometimes I get messages back and replies to these. And they make my day. Most tend to pop into my email inbox late in the evening due to time differences and they make me smile. One of the best feelings is knowing that I’ve managed to help someone, in whatever way I can. And two of you lovely darlings, @aux-barricades and @vivalamusaine, followed this blog. That brings me up to a grand total of 3 followers that aren’t related to me. And that’s slightly mad. Why would you want to do that, you crazy people? I post nothing. I reblog nothing. This is it. This is all you will get from this blog, it’s my own stories. I contribute nothing to the fandom. Just thought I’d give you fair warning if you want to escape while you can. But if you’re still hanging around then thank you. It means a lot to me that you’d do that. You took time out of your day to look at me and decide I was someone worth showing up on your dashboard. That I did something that made a lasting impression on you. 

And I want to do more here. I plan to post more bits of my writings for anyone who wants to take a gander at it. But I also want to do more good with this blog. I want to spread more happiness in my own unique way. I don’t know how yet, but it’s coming. It shall become my own personal mission to spread as much happiness to the people on this site that I love as possible. And I know that only 4 people will ever see this, so this is a promise to myself, as well as you lot. 

But I’ve rambled for a long time here, so I’m just going to drop my writing off here for anyone that wants to look and slip away quietly...

The ornate fountain in the centre of the square provides gentle music, the trickling of the sparkling water soothing stressed minds. The sand coloured buildings give shade from the blazing sun, although the stop the cool sea breeze from reaching the square.

Ornate windows and balconies overlook this square; many flung wide open to welcome the cooler air. Washing lines are strung between balconies, some stretching the span of the square, a myriad of colours pegged out to dry.

The cobbles on the floor are cool to the touch, a few plants growing in the cracks near the fountain. Plant-life is rife near the buildings, ivy climbs up many walls and flowering plants twist between windows, gentle white and pink blooms dropping gentle to the ground with a silent thud.

A grand tree stands in one corner, taller, almost, than the buildings. A twisted trunk and gnarled branches provide the perfect holds for children to scramble up, daring each other to go higher than the last.

In times past, the square has seen many things. Children run around the fountain in the summer months, laughing as they dodge out of each other’s way. As the das become shorter the square becomes a meeting place, families bringing their children out to stargaze and tell tales.

At midday the square is deserted, the bright sun overhead too warm, as all seek shelter in their homes. And now, the square is quiet as evening begins its tentative approach. Children are bathing, parents are eating and the square remains empty. In an hour, perhaps, a young couple may come out of two of the houses, sit by the fountain and share a moment as the sun sets.

But for now, the square belongs only to you… and me.

***

The couple sit on the ledge of the fountain. She trails her fingers in the water, leaving ripples behind her. He scoops out a perfect bloom from the water, shaking it free of droplets before threading it gently into her hair. She blushed and reaches up to secure it, deftly tying a braid around its stem.

It creates a pretty contrast, the pale pink bloom nestled comfortably in a sea of rich brown hair. He makes a comment about how it matches her beauty. She laughs, her chestnut eyes sparkling.

She sweeps her legs up onto the ledge, laughing as she almost falls into the fountain, grabbing hold of his jacket to keep her balance. He laughs at her actions, making a motion as if to tip her into the water, laughing harder when she lets out a quiet scream. She hits him weakly on the chest, berating him for doing such a thing, although she is nearly breathless with laughter herself.

Soon, the laughter dies down and the courtyard is in silence once more, apart from the trickling from the fountain and the gentle breathing of the young couple. They sit for a while, watching the stars appear. He points out the constellations he can spot and she tells him of the myths behind their creation. They talk about their childhood; playing games in the very square they now sit.

And finally, they turn their thoughts towards the future, and the wild world that lies beyond the square. They talk about marriage in a small church, flowers covering every surface and family and friends present. They talk about children, a young boy who would take after his Padre and would undoubtedly be a heartbreaker when he was older. And they talk about growing old together, maybe one day returning to the square once again to live in peace.

As the sun begins to rise over the buildings and the first ray of sunlight touches the cobble-stoned ground, they share a gentle kiss and slip away to their houses, with promises to meet again the next night and the proof of their love still tingling on their lips.

***

He’s a cheery little boy. His laugh is the first indication he is approaching, a bubbling laughter filled to the brim with happiness, the adventure of childhood. The pitter patter of his feet is the next thing to be heard. His little booted feet hit the paved street as he pounded towards the door.

He races into the house, skidding around on the tiled floor into the kitchen where he knows he will find-

“Mamma!”

He grabs hold of her legs and bounces up and down.

“Mamma! Guess what, mamma! I went outside and I made a friend and we fought a dragon together! He’s really cool, mamma. He can do magic and he said he’d teach me how to.”

She sweeps him up and props him on her hip, wiping her hands on the cloth swung over her shoulder.

“Un drago? That sounds very exciting, piccolo. Now, do you want to help me make supper, or do you want to find your padre?”

He kicks his legs, catching his mother in his excitement, but she hides the wince with only a short huff of breath.

“Padre! Padre!”

The woman leaves the kitchen, deftly flicking open the catch on the back door. They young boy struggles to be let down the minute he sees the man stood in the small garden, leaning against the sandstone wall, a wisp of smoke rising from the cigarette in his hand. He throws it on the ground, crushing it under his heel as he hears the footsteps approaching. He smiles a little bashfully at the woman’s reproachful glare but crouched down to talk to the young boy.

“Did I hear something about a dragon? You must have been very brave to have fought off such a fearsome creature.”

“I was very brave, padre! And I made a friend. Come and see. Come one!”

He grabs hold of the man’s hand and pulls, small feet scrabbling for purchase in the dirt. The man chuckles and lets himself be pulled away, clicking the gate shut behind him.

The child gone, the woman pulls her own cigarette out of an apron pocket and lights it, hopping up to sit on the wall, legs swinging. She blows the smoke into the evening air and untwists her hair from where it’s been perched on top of her head, chestnut brown hair shaking free of its hold.

The evening is quiet, for a time. There are no sounds in this small part of town they’ve chosen, apart from the faint rumblings of nearby traffic. The still air is warm and the faint breeze rustles through the trees.

“You still miss it, don’t you?”

The woman puts out her cigarette on the wall and leans back to rest her head on the man’s shoulder.

“I think I’ll always miss it. I regret, sometimes, that out boy cannot grow up there, to have the childhood we had.”

“He’s happy here. He has his friends and his dragons to fight. And he’ll grow up to be wonderful, just like his mamma.”

“Oh no. I think he’ll be more like his padre. I knew that all those years ago and I will not be proved wrong.”

The man kisses her gently on the cheek, slipping a pale pink blossom behind her ear.

“You’re never wrong, my dear.”

[lizzyleaf17]

Jack of All Trades, Master of None.

What does it mean to be a “Jack of All Trades?” Though I could undoubtedly bore you with a lengthy discussion on the etymology of this term, I’ll cut to the chase. Back in medieval times, the name “Jack” was used much in the same way we use “John” or “Joe” to indicate a generic individual with no pertinent identifying qualities, skills, or features. “Jack” was someone who could do anything, be anything, or go anywhere and not have much trouble adapting to situations. Over time, the term “Jack of All Trades” came about, with the eventual addition of “Master of None”, thereby giving the term a negative connotation. As we know it today, the phrase essentially means someone who knows about or is good at a variety of subjects and tasks, but has never mastered any of them.

 The reason I bring this subject to the table is that it is something going on in my own life right now, and, quite frankly, it’s intensely frustrating. I have a variety of interests which include drawing, dancing, expanding my vocabulary, studying Korean, and writing. These are excellent hobbies that help keep my mind sharp and aid in my always changing perception of the world around me. The trouble is, I’m a master of none of these passions. I am adroit at all of them in various ways, but I have yet to fully conquer any of them in a full and complete sense.

 Don’t mistake me—there is always room to grow and learn about anything. It is inherent in nature that nothing can truly be mastered. There will always be new information, new targets, new objectives that surface at different and random times. My issue, therefore, lies with my proficiency rather than my mastering.

 You see, I am a very internally motivated, self-taught individual. There are a variety of reasons for that, but the primary ones are my personality type (I don’t need to be told to do things; I do them so long as I see value in the activity) and lack of finances (i.e. I can’t afford lessons). This is both a good and bad thing. It’s good because I am very stubborn and won’t quit a venture even in the face of adversity. It’s bad in that because I am so self-reliant, I often don’t seek out necessary instructions from others. After all, I have accomplished many things of my own volition. Why seek assistance for grasping a new subject when I’ve done so well teaching myself other things?

 My arrogant (I prefer the term “confident” but we won’t talk about that right now) attitude aside, I have finally reached a point in my pursuit where I am at a loss for how to proceed with any of these hobbies. I’m tired of the same repetitious thoughts and expressions that come to me every time I engage in these activities. I am most certainly a “Jack” for all of them, but I cannot say I have truly mastered any of them. As someone who is always striving for continual self-refinement and improvement, this is beyond maddening.

 I suppose this could also relate back to people who get into “creative ruts” or even just routine ruts. We reach a point where we feel we are not progressing—not learning—and the thing that was once bringing us so much joy is now leaving us irked and angry. We may find that we doubt our own capabilities, thinking that we have somehow lost our edge or desire to continue learning about the subject. To be fair, in some instances, we have. There are times in our lives when we actively decide to put down something and never (or rarely) pick it up again. Our reasons for doing so are varied, but there are definitely justifiable instances. There is nothing wrong with this, and we shouldn’t feel bad for letting go of something we were once so captivated with. Just as seasons change, so do people. We do, however, need to critically examine our personal situations and determine whether our reasons for giving up or taking a break are valid. For example, a child who is passionate about music but tells his mother he doesn’t want to continue with guitar lessons because they are “too hard” should be pressed to push through the difficulties until he comes out on the other side. On the other hand, a tenured musician who finds that playing with his band no longer brings him joy may be perfectly justified in his decision to temporarily step away from or altogether abandon this hobby. It’s not quitting, it’s realizing that there are other things he would like to pursue. With those differences laid out, allow me to say that I am more akin to the frustrated child than the tenured musician. I am not actively seeking out other means of education or entertainment, I simply feel that I have hit a rather large rough patch in my passions. What’s more, I have unceremoniously seemed to hit them all at the same time. This, I believe, is magnifying my otherwise very normal amounts of friction that one would experience with any of these hobbies.

 So now that I have identified the problem, what am I to do? The most logical step, it would seem, is to seek outside assistance to help reignite my passions and help me to learn things that are challenging or impossible to teach myself. But once more I am faced with the financial dilemma that I mentioned earlier. Further compounding that is my ever-shrinking amount of free time available to engage in personal past times. (Please note that I’m not complaining, I’m just saying with a job, family, bills, friends, and miscellaneous commitments all vying for my attention, it’s not easy. My options are limited to free educational content, which admittedly is growing in abundance every day.)

 Truthfully, I’m not even sure which is the best route to take. If I wanted to, I could temporarily or permanently abandon one or all of my skills and take up something entirely new. Additionally, I could try to find cheap means of receiving the instruction I need (such as friends or family who are willing to offer a lending hand or books, web articles, and online videos). Alternatively, I could try and push through the rough bumps in my educational roads, and simply apply myself even more diligently than I have been. Any of these strategies could work or fail for me, depending on how determined I am. But like I said, I don’t really know which is best. Perhaps I’ll try out a combination. Perhaps I’ll try all of them. Perhaps none of them.

 My entire point in writing about this is to tell you that if you are going through this same thing—if you feel as though you are a Jack of All Trades and will always be a Master of None—you are not alone. Nothing is wrong with you. It’s okay to be frustrated. It’s okay to be angry! It’s totally fine if you decide you have given something your best, and you’re done trying to make it happen. If it doesn’t make you happy anymore, then you don’t need to force yourself to proceed. There is nothing wrong with picking up another talent or hobby that is better suited for you at this point in your life. There is no shame in this, and don’t allow the looks or doubts of others cause you to doubt yourself. But with that, I will say this: You do not have a free pass to quit when the going gets tough. I am in no way advising you to simply give up at the first obstacle you encounter. Things are hard, but they’re hard for a reason—to help you show yourself and others the grit, determination, and abilities you have. Things will be challenging, there’s no question about that. But it’s not this way so you can just walk away when faced with adversity. It’s this way so you can walk through the fiery trials, be purified, and come out on the other side even better than before.

 My name is Lizzy, and I will continue to ardently pursue the answer to the “Jack of all Trades” quandary. Will you?