#but these two weeks will be the worse of my life work wise

[royaltea000]

[stress relief doodle] just wanted to let you guys know that he’s always had those stupid tassels dw

[cosmic-vacuum]

Introduction.

Heard someone online say this— "The right DIRECTION is actually more important than HARD WORK itself."

The first step to "working smart" is also stepping in the right direction.

Hard work directed towards unproductive and degenerative activities is equivalent to stalemate in the specific field if not further degradation.

HOW SO, DO WE STEP IN THE RIGHT DIRECTION?

Step 1: Have a talk with yourself about what you really wish to do.

My talks before starting this usually ended up in tears.

I've been failing in life altogether for over two years now and all the cumulative criticism combined with regrets and embarrassments fueled defense mechanisms and avoidance techniques to develop inside me.

The talk was obviously hard, but finally I've opened myself to opinion and change recently— this in itself is the greatest change a human being can have.

It wasn't easy, of course.

I was supposed to fight down my own behaviour and impulsive reflexes to understand words and opinions of the other people around me whilst not being swayed completely by them or even rejecting them completely.

This is one of those things easier said than done.

It was talking to myself more that led to this.

The only person who can reach the inner voice of your consciousness is you. This voice is the most truthful and genuine guide you can find, only, you must know to separate it from words materialised by intrusive thoughts.

Sit with yourself, talk to yourself, ask yourself what you want to do.

It may take a while, but you will surely get response when you try to connect to your inner self.

Step 2: Get into what you wish to accomplish— know more.

Reasearch about your goal. We can't start into something we barely know about.

2024 is a great year to live in but only for the seekers.

You'll find everything you need to know about anything online today, all you need to have is the desire to see.

This is the first step to "Smart Work" too.

[Smart work: works only when applied with hard work. It's not the other way around— you can not replace hard work by smart work]

We will be revisiting this several times in times ahead so don't worry if there are unanswered questions [you can always comment or dm them to me].

Step 3: This is probably the TRUEST of all advise I've heard growing up– You're the average of the five people you listen to everyday.

I have personally seen so many people change for the worse on having bad company surrounding them.

It's easier for people yo pick up bad behaviours rather than good ones so no matter how selfish it would make you feel, cross out bad influences from your life

If you happen to be someone mostly at home and in presence of parents or siblings (like me), try to make firstly, your pwn mind your best companion. When there's problems, talk about it to your own self.

It's magical, trust me.

This takes time to get a hang of but it's magical.

Other than that, fill your ears with podcasts or perhaps you tube videos of people who are wise and/or related to your specific goal.

[I will be sharing a list of thr best podcasts to hear for personal growth later in a separate post.]

Step 4: Have a proper plan.

How you spend your minutes, hours, days, months and therefore the years becomes how you ultimately spend your life.

A— Take either a calendar or just draw out the months which compose your selected "two month" time.

B— Write your goal on a piece of paper and formulate a monthly procedure to achieve it.

If this goal is some sort of skill development for example, divide the procedure into the two months and then further down to weeks. Then, divide the workload per day of the week.

This is also applicable for students preparing for some or the other sort of examination or are just studying in general.

C— People who wish to upgrade their personalities will be part of a more active process which will run alongside the daily log posts.

WHAT NEXT?

Once we've got all we wish to change outlined, we can step into finally starting the process.

This turned out to be longer than I expected so I'll keep it till here. Anything else we need to do will follow in the following posts.

If we wish, we can.

[check out the blog to join the journey]

[sistertotheknowitall]

Masterpost

“But to the BatFam? That is just Some Guy. A random dude - if you will.”

“Don’t worry about it, I’m missing my spleen.”

“Oh cool, yeah, missing organs suck. I’m missing a kidney and part of my liver. Oh! And my gallbladder but that was more of a necessary evil, it was like, poisoning me or something.” Danny was so focused on applying pressure to his wound (and maybe being a bit too light headed) that he didn’t notice how silent his friend had gotten. Like-wise the comms had gone equally quiet as Gotham’s vigilante family realized that they knew very little about this kid.

It was concerning how quickly they all started to see him as a friend considering it was them as vigilantes he interacted with the most. Tim was the only one who saw him frequently when out of the suit because he was a regular at Danny’s day job. (He worked as a barista in the coffee shop Tim favored.) The others saw him occasionally but more often than not it was just in passing. Steph, Duke, and Dick had to stop themselves from approaching him on the street.

It was odd, one day he had just moved to Gotham, seeming to appear out of nowhere, and then the next he was a constant presence in their lives. Usually armed and ready with a concerning or odd quip, it had started with him being another victim of the city’s petty criminals and had snowballed from there.

Now it wasn’t like the bats saw Danny everyday, but it was expected that he would cross paths with at least three of them before the end of the week. They ran into him more often than any other Gothamite, including the criminals and rouges they fought.

At first the constant meetings by “coincidence” was suspicious. If he wasn’t the one being saved from a mugging, kidnapping, or city wide villain assault, then he was near by and trying to help.

(“Trying to help” usually meant drawing attention to himself so the original victim could escape. Once it had meant Danny armed with a baseball bat against four grown men. Bruce and Dick have tried to talk to him about putting himself in harms way but the kid is surprisingly elusive when he wants to be. Yet, even when avoiding Batman and his eldest, Danny could be found on the patrol route of another family member.)

But honestly? The guy seemed just as exhausted as they were of seeing each other. By the twelfth time in a month, Danny had accused them of stalking him.

The background check Bruce and Tim had run came back clean and he never seemed to be involved in the various criminal activities. He was just there, a weirdly unlucky bystander. So as far as Dick and the others could see, Danny was a completely normal dude. He just said strange things and wasn’t intimidated by them, he actually made it a point to be unhelpful sometimes. When trying to learn his name he gave them the run around for two months. (“I know about stranger danger. I don’t care how often you say you’re the ‘good guys.’ I’m not falling for it.”)

On one memorable occasion Danny had disappeared for a week and a half. When they started to assume the worse, he popped back up behind the counter at work. Tim had relaxed significantly when he entered the shop to Danny organizing pastries in the display case. Once he’d placed his order, the young CEO asked Danny if he’d been on vacation. To which Danny had just sighed and told Tim “I wish, but no I was called to court to handle some affairs I couldn’t get out of.” (After a check to see if Danny had gotten charged with something and coming back empty, Tim had concluded that it was an odd way to say he had had jury duty.)

Thinking about it now, outside a stray comment or two, Danny didn’t talk about himself or his life. They knew he didn’t have a good relationship with his parents, “they were much more goal oriented than that joke of a kidnapper, but I think drugs do that to a person.” (It was still unclear if he meant his parents were kidnappers themselves or on drugs.) They knew he had an older sister who would “kill me again if she finds out I was in another bank robbery.” They also knew he was, possibly, depressed after last week’s comment of “is it considered murder if you’re already dead but, like, still alive?” (Damian had saved him from a drug ring but after another “baby ninja” comment the young Robin had threatened to give Danny back to his would-be murderers.)

Dick knew Danny was a weird guy who never wanted to elaborate on the things he said. (Jason was still confused on what he meant by “rotted milk soul.”) That didn’t mean the comments themselves didn’t say a lot about him. And tonight’s comment, accompanied by the prominent and jagged autopsy scars, said more than Danny was probably willing to share.

Part one

[m7meds]

‼️Please don’t skip taking a look 🇵🇸

A small donation can make a big difference 🙏🇵🇸

Any donation can make a difference

Hi, my Muhammad

A 21 year old young man with big dreams. As the eldest son in my house, I used to be the greatest joy of my family. As you know, being a medical student in Gaza comes with its own challenges and hard work.

Since October 7th everything changed, and my life took a turn for the worse. Unfortunately, two weeks later I lost my home, my dream, my college, and my father’s income, which unfortunately means he can no longer support us.

Everything I was waiting for was gone and became impossible to achieve

During this occupation I volunteered at Al-Shifa Hospital for a month

It was an eye-opening experience for me that made me

feel better and kept me going.

So I want to finish what I started.

So I started this, to tell my story and help me reach my dream

to become wise.

[sanguineterrain]

okay i've had this thought brewing for a while and i think you're the only writer who would do it justice!

reader meets jason again post-lazarus pit and he's amazed by how different reader is look-wise. reader was a teenager the last time they saw jason and now as an adult they've gotten a more "adult" body. reader is curvier, fleshier, no longer as lean as they were as a teen and is a bit self conscious about their body. but it drives jason wild to see his old crush all grown up into this mature body, hell he's changed a lot too. but yeah i feel like jason would be so body positive and full of praise 🩷

decided to combine this with a request i got for this prompt: 8) we share the bed because this is what we’ve done since we were kids, regardless of the adult implications now. i so agree with you anon, i think jason would be simultaneously body positive and absolutely FERAL for his old/current crush ;)

jason todd x gn!plus-sized!reader. reader used to work with the bats and is best friends with jayjay. reader is insecure and speaks poorly about their body. jason does NOT like that and desires you carnally! wahoo! suggestive content but no outright smut.

****

You haven't been in Jason's room in five years.

Alfred's kept it pretty much the same. Same books on the shelves, same Gotham Knights sweatshirt Dick gave Jason for his birthday. The curtains are the same shade of maroon, and the left one has a tear from when you played with a batarang. Jason had covered for you and was grounded for a week.

You flip through a dog-eared copy of The Three Musketeers. A few of the pages have underlining in pencil. You trace them with your finger.

The door creaks open. You look up.

Jason freezes in the threshold. His wrist is bandaged and you can see stitches on his forehead. You frown.

"Hey." You set down the book and go to him, offering your shoulder for him to lean on. "You okay?"

Jason sighs, ignoring your shoulder. "Who called you?"

"What d'you mean? We're psychically linked, Jay-Jay. I sensed that there was trouble afoot in Gotham City."

"Uh-huh. That didn't work when you tried to convince the old man I needed a puppy because you psychically divined that it knew me in a previous life."

"You and that Terrier were soulmates and I'll hear nothing of the contrary."

You take Jason's arm, despite his protests that he can make it two feet to the bed. He lays down, trying to hide how his arm twinges in pain. You frown and slip in beside him.

Jason's a lot bigger than he was the last time you shared a bed. Well. You both are. You roll over so you're facing him, squished against his side. You pull your leg up, suddenly self-conscious about everything Jason might be able to see.

Jason is warm. He's warm and big and solid and good God, you've missed him.

Your best friend is also fucking gorgeous and you really want to kiss him, but, uh. Ignoring that. You're very practiced at ignoring the urge to kiss Jason.

"Thanks for comin'."

The light is still on, casting a soft orange glow across Jason's features. He glances at you, lashes casting shadows on his cheeks. You can count all the freckles on his nose, this close.

"I'll always come when you call, Jay," you say. "Well, when Dickie calls. Said you got a concussion."

He turns his head, sighing at the ceiling. "'S not a big deal. Mild concussion. Leslie said I'll be fine in a week, but we all know that's code for two days."

"Yeah, I don't think so. You bats really are birds of a feather."

"How dare you. 'M nothing like those wackos."

"Sure, buddy. Keep lying to yourself. You brought me in all those years ago for a little normalcy."

"My mistake," Jason says.

He gets thwacked with a pillow for that. It fluffs his curls. He grins at you.

You tuck in closer, resting your chin on his shoulder. Jason turns his head so his cheek rests on the top of your head.

"You can have the bed," he says.

"Don't be a silly goose."

"'M gonna go home anyway."

You scoff. "Not like this, you're not."

"Been worse for wear."

You roll your eyes. "How are you gonna ride your bike with a hurt wrist and a concussion, genius?"

"Please, babe. The real question is how will I sneak past Alfred?"

"I'm a babe, now?"

Jason half-smiles. "Always were."

"Liar. Can you imagine me in a Batsuit again? Exactly, you can't. I simply don't have the bod for it."

"Hey." Jason reaches down and gently pinches your thigh. "Why ya doin' that?"

"Doing what?"

"Talkin' bad about yourself. Don't do that. 'Sides, it ain't true."

"Jaybird." You level him with a look. "Be serious. I know you're my best friend and you have to say that, but c'mon. I've seen the hotties you work with. Hell, I've seen Bruce and Dickie."

Jason's face twists in disgust. "Do not call my dad and brother hot."

"Okay, fine. I've seen you."

His brows rise. "What?"

"What, what?"

"Are you... callin' me..."

You snort. "Duh. Have you seen yourself? You've always been cute, Jason. If you didn't have the demeanor of a honey badger, you'd be fending off marriage proposals left and right from the Gotham public. You've always been the prettier one of us, Jay-Jay."

Jason's quiet. You keep going.

"Anyway, neon's never been my color, and it seems like that's a pretty immovable requirement these days. Like, I get Clark's trying to be seen from space but he doesn't get bloated. And the Spandex? Goodness gracious—"

"Y'really see yourself like that?"

Jason's staring at you with a wrinkled brow, mouth set.

"Like what?"

"Like you're not pretty? Like I'm too good for ya?"

You prop your head up on your arm. "You've always been too good for me, Jason Todd."

"That's just not true. And you're fuckin' beautiful, so stop sayin' that shit."

You blink. "Jay, c'mon—"

"No. It's true, so stop. You're the most beautiful person I've ever had the pleasure to know, and if anybody's gettin' proposed to, it's you."

"Jason." Your face is on fire. Why did you open your mouth? "Stop. It's fine. So I'm different; my body's changed and shit. I'm not an athletic vigilante anymore. My thighs have, like, their own zip code. It's my own fault. I didn't keep up the training and whaa—!"

In one fluid motion, Jason's rolled you onto him. Your legs straddle his waist. You catch yourself on his shoulders, then begin to scramble off, burning with embarrassment.

"Sorry, I'm heavy, you're injured—" you babble, picking up your leg.

"Will you quit?" Jason keeps your leg exactly where it is, tenderly stroking your ankle with his thumb. "Actin' like I'm made of whipped cream."

"You're concussed."

"Mildly."

"Stop, Jason. Please. You don't have to do this to-to prove a point. I get it, I won't talk bad about myself."

Bit hypocritical, considering some of the stuff you know for a fact Jason believes about himself.

But this is humiliating, your extremely attractive, crime-fighting best friend pretending that you haven't totally let yourself go all to bolster your ego.

"Nah, I don't think you get it," Jason says conversationally. His hand creeps under your shirt. You squirm. "I really, really don't think you get how fuckin' gone I am for ya."

"Huh?"

"Oh, yeah. Now, that's my fault, never sayin' anything. I was being cowardly. So lemme make it clear for ya, sweetheart."

His hand leaves your ankle and pulls your face to his. And then Jason kisses you.

"You're concussed," you whimper against his mouth. "Jason, you're—"

Jason laughs, low and sweet. He strokes the side of your face. "I could have amnesia and I wouldn't forget the fact that I've been in love with my best friend since I was fourteen."

"Are you sure you don't want me to move? I can—"

"No way. Y'know how long I've wanted you on me? Shit, I sound like a creep, thinking 'bout you like that, but—"

Jason rolls you both onto your sides. He hefts your leg over his, so you're slotted between each other. Then he kisses your neck, mouth hot and desperate. You gasp, belly swooping.

How long have you wanted this? How long did you believe you'd never feel this way about another person after Jason?

"I can promise you," Jason says, breathing hard against your skin. "You're a knockout. You knock me out. And I'll knock out anyone who says otherwise."

You huff and get a little braver, kissing Jason and returning him onto his back. He grins, sharp and hungry. He wants you. There's no doubt.

"I still think you're concussed," you murmur, letting him feel up your shirt. "But lucky for you, I have the utmost sympathy for poor, bedridden bats."

Jason hums, grunting when your teeth scrape his ear. "Oh, I've always known I was the lucky one, having you."

[manicpixiefelix]

head, heart, hand. {Felix Catton/Reader/Oliver Quick}

Part 6.

Summary: Felix learns about what happened between you and Oliver at the club, and some jackass makes assumptions about you and Felix and your intentions towards Oliver. The interaction gets you worked up enough that you feel the need to repay Felix as when he'd defended you. With sex.

{ masterpost }

Need to Know: They/Them. Explicitly NB Reader. FWB!Reader/Felix. Reader is from a well off family but has pretty much been adopted by the Cattons.

Warnings: SMUT; AFAB!reader, d/s dynamics, felix being a chatty brat, assume the reader is on birth control, unprotected sex.

A/N: 4782 words. cannot go two chapters without having a felix/reader moment it seems. bare with me i swear we get more oliver as it goes on, but he's just watching through the blinds right now and collecting information. also forgive me, not only is this unedited, it's also the first actual, explicit smut scene i've written in years, and even longer since i've been intimate with someone with a dick. i also dont read smut so this might be weird pacing wise at the end. honestly the smut is just a backdrop for character development. have at ye, and please lemme know what you think!

TAGLIST IN COMMENTS!! // TAGLIST ALWAYS OPEN ! (just message or comment to be added)

----

Summer creeps in almost insidiously, days getting longer and warmer, humidity forcing it's way into every single facet of your lives. Afternoons outside of classes are spent doing not much of anything, hoping that when night falls, the temperature will fall with it.

This afternoon is the coolest you've had in several weeks, laying on Felix's floor, listening to him play the guitar while Oliver was draped over the foot of his bed, gazing at Felix's bookshelf. There's a sweet breeze through the open window and you hum along to the tune you recognise your best friend playing, letting yourself soak in the moment.

The quiet spell breaks as Oliver moves, reaches out for something on Felix's bookshelf.

"That's cute," he muses, "baby Felix." It must be the photo of Felix and his childhood dog, the you'd only met once or twice as a kid before he'd passed, before you'd been properly friends. But Oliver puts the photo back almost as fast as he'd picked it up, "there aren't any pictures of me as a kid," he muses.

"You and Y/N have that in common," Felix says idly, surprising both you and Oliver, though for different reasons; you hadn't even realised he'd remembered that about you. Your vapid, jet-setting, philanthropist parents had always been incredibly image conscious, and a child was never part of that image. Born out of obligation to their own parents to produce a grandchild to make eventual inheritance easier, they longed to distance themselves from the very idea of you unless they desperately needed to.

And they hadn't for as long as you've been alive.

"If there were baby photos of me, that'd prove that my parents had a child," you laughed, but there was no real humour in it, "and none of us wants that."

The invisible heir.

"I'm sorry to hear that," Oliver says faintly, an unfamiliar, unreadable look in his eyes as he gazes over at you. You give a blithe shrug.

"It means I got to find a home in Felix," you say easily, the wording sappy enough to make Felix himself laugh.

"You're such a sap, that's so much nicer than what I was going to say."

"Go on then, out with it," you prompted him, despite his faint, playful protest.

"I was going to call you another ward of the Saltburn Estate," Felix grins at you, "for better or worse."

"At least you had a family who loved you," Oliver turns away again, pressing his cheek to the duvet as his gaze focused back on the photo of Felix and his dog, "even if they weren't yours." There's a distinct discomfort in the air now, a reminder of how vastly Oliver's life differs from your own.

"I was lucky in a lot of ways," is all you can think to say. Felix starts playing guitar again.

These long days turn into long nights, parties, girls and boys and everyone in between, hazy chats and drinking games and hands on you - holding you, dancing with you, brushing past, tapping with excitement, always hands on you. The quiet way Oliver goes through these strange situations may be read as awkward to everyone else, but you're no longer under any such illusions.

"You're desperate to feel needed."

There was no hesitation in his voice the other night, his hands on you, his mouth on you.

"Then need me, want me."

How easily he'd made you flustered in the club, you didn't realise he had it in him. Honestly if you hadn't experienced it yourself, you wouldn't believe it if someone else had told you. There's been a change, however, a subtle, unnoticeable one to anyone looking in from the outside. Every so often, on nights out, you'll catch him watching you with that same hungry look in his eyes, but will never act on it, however much you wish he would.

"I do, but not like this, not now."

What the fuck was he playing at? You never knew how to bring it up, even when you were alone together. But he never stopped reached out for you, he never shied away from your touch. Apart from this one thing, it was the exact same as before.

If only that one thing didn't have the potential to change everything.

"Has Ollie seemed any different to you lately?" You go to the only person you know you can trust with this. Felix frowns at his hand of cards for a long moment before looking back up at you.

"Sorry, what was the question?"

"Ollie," you go a little slower, rearranging your own hand of cards, "does he seem... I don't know, different to you?" Then, as Felix was considering, "got any fives?"

"Go fish." You should both be studying for an upcoming exam.

"What do you mean? Has anyone said anything to you?" Felix momentarily put down his cards to relight his cigarette, fixing you with an intense gaze, "did something happen?"

"Did someone say something to you?" You pivot for the moment, still looking at your cards.

"Annabel."

"Annabel?"

"About her birthday thing."

"Are you taking your turn or what?"

"Oh, right," he's still frowning, picking up his cards with his free hand, "threes?" You swear as you hand over two threes, as he quietly cheers.

"Anyways, what about Annabel's birthday thing? Does she has a problem with Ollie?" At your question, Felix ums and ahs, and avoids eye contact, "yes then?"

"No-one else in the group is a huge fan of him," he even sounds guilty admitting it out loud, "everyone else can kind of feel how out of place he is and it makes things awkward. I know we think he's lovely," Felix tried to quickly placate you, or perhaps his own conscience, "but the man's got zero chat." This does, however, make you snort.

"Ollie's got chat," you smirk down at your cards, only realising what you'd said when you're met with a shocked silence. Looking up, Felix is staring at you with utter surprise.

"Does he now?" He sounds downright scandalised. You can feel yourself growing flustered, both under Felix's delighted, intrigued gaze, and at your own memories from the club, "so something did happen?"

"Nothing happened!"

"Something definitely happened!"

"I didn't fuck him."

"Between nothing and fucking there's a whole lot of somethings that could have happened," card game completely forgotten, Felix is enraptured as you begin to briefly explain the interaction at the club -

"- and well then, he starts calling me out while aggressively making out with me," you take a deep, final breath, finally looking Felix in the eyes, "and I desperately wanted to fuck him because of it." You sigh, and give Felix plenty of time to process the story and recover.

"But you didn't?" Finally, he speaks, and you groaned, throwing your head back to look at the stars.

"No," you sulked, "he disappeared into the crowd and I had to get myself off twice before I could sleep that night. Fucking tease," but you're heart's not really mad at Oliver.

"Always fascinated to learn what turns you on," Felix is desperately trying to hold in his laughter. It's not working, "many of them baffle me."

"That's not the point here, Fi," you rolled your eyes, leaning back against the gravel roof finally, laying back. You hear the pebbles shifting, and moments later Felix joins you, hands behind his head, "I don't know how to talk about it with him," you say softly. Then, tone much lighter, "and it doesn't surprise me that Annabel thinks he has no chat, he just doesn't want to fuck her, and she can't fathom a world where anyone doesn't want her."

Felix laughs, but unfortunately isn't able to offer any real advice to you about your Oliver situation.

Oliver Quick was an anomaly in your life, you should maybe have suspected his friendship to bring on further anomalous occurrences.

"Leave Oliver Quick alone," like the voice in the library that greets you harshly whilst you're hunting down a textbook. Spinning to see who it is, you lay eyes on a blonde man in dreadfully practical clothes; he's glaring at you like you've done him some personal offense.

"Excuse me?"

"You heard me," he says sharply, gaze as unwavering as his tone, "you vapid -" he stops himself for a moment, face turning red with anger, "pricks," he settles on, "leave Oliver Quick alone, for his sake."

"Is this a joke?"

"Oh I'm not one for jokes, especially not with the likes of you; I know how you and Mister Catton operate. Selfish," he hissed.

"Do I know you?" Its genuine confusion, and for a moment the man's expression turned annoyed, his righteous indignation turning to faint disappointment as you refused to take him and his request seriously.

"Michael," like it should mean something to you, "Michael Gavey;" still nothing, "I was in the year below you at high school for four years."

"Well, Michael," you start slowly, bordering on condescending, "Ollie's a big boy -"

"I know you; you'll get bored, you two always do," Michael cuts you off with a sneer, some of that anger from just earlier returning, "he deserves more than to be a footnote in your frivolous little lives."

"Fuck off, Mikey." You say it as a warning.

"Michael," he corrects through gritted teeth, "Felix is a slag, which makes you the sensible one, so I thought you'd actually listen -" but the realisation hits you, right as you start to see red.

"You've already tried talking to Ollie," immediately, your tone ices over, humourless, cruel little smile twisting the edges of your lips. Noticing your change in demeanour, the fight seems to drain out of Michael before your very eyes, "and he ignored you, didn't he?" You asked, already knowing the answer from the way he was trying to stammer through an answer.

"Now, Michael," you tell him with a poisonous smile, taking even, measured steps towards him, as you turn his name over on your tongue with as much malice as you can manage, "Michael Gavey, I think I do know you," you're playing with your food, drawing out his discomfort with every slow word; you weren't cruel by nature, not unless someone found which button to press, "first year," you drop your voice low as you get into his space. He starts to shrink backwards, but you're practically on his toes until you're crowding him against the bookshelf, "math genius, shouts in the dining hall -"

"I didn't- just once-"

"If you ever," there's a furious look in your eyes behind your sinister smile as you stand toe-to-toe with Michael, "and I mean fucking ever, breathe the word slag in Felix's direction, or any other insult for that matter," you wet your lips, "I promise the only job you will ever get for the rest of your life will be that of a high school English tutor," you pet his cheek condescendingly, "for students with dyscalculia."

Michael actually shudders.

"You know I can do it too, don't you?" You press, and he nods, looking both furious and ashamed where he can't look you in the eyes, "we went to high school together, Mikey, I know where you came from, I can dictate where you will go." Stepping back, you clear your throat. Nodding to him, you turn on your heel to head further into the library, to continue searching for your book.

Trying to move past it doesn't work, it still irks you, you still can't stop thinking about his weaselly little face, the bitter sneer he wore, and the cruelty with which he spoke about you and Felix. It haunts you. The audacity.

Textbook in hand, you immediately head for the patch of greenery and trees near Oliver's dorm, where you know Felix and the rest of your friends will all be spending their afternoon.

"Ooh~ Y/N coming in hot," Farleigh called, spotting the metaphorical cloud of thunder above you before anyone else.

"What are you doing now?" Ignoring everyone else, you only have eyes for Felix. He grins up at you from where he was using Farleigh's thigh as a pillow.

"I assume whatever it is you're about to ask of me," he says blithely, while the others watch the interaction with amusement.

"I need to rant," was all you said, and Felix held out his hand for you to help him up.

"You're so sexy when you're angry," he says teasingly for the whole group to hear, "has anyone ever told you that?"

"I'm not kidding," you scowl, and his grin widens.

"I know, that's the best part, I could listen to you yell for hours, I usually never get to hear it." The banter continues on the way back to your dorm. The others know it's probably a cover, though none of them, apart from Farleigh of course, know the truth. Most assume you're moments from a breakdown and would like to have your best friend there for support.

The minute you're back in your room, you slam the door shut and toss the textbook to the side. Felix asks you what's wrong, tone still light, and you can feel that protective anger flaring up in you.

Slag.

"If you don't hold me back I might start getting into scraps," you tells him with seriousness, stalking up to him with intent, planting an almost bruising kiss on his lips as you fumble with the buttons of your shirt. It's not often that you're the one getting riled up; Felix is more than enthusiastic.

"Don't fight on my behalf," he laughs, frantically pulling off his sweater. Pausing for a moment to help him with the pullover, the minute it's off and tossed to the side, you're unbuttoning his shirt with one hand as best your able, as he's trying to tug your shirt off in the chaos. The two of you are moving to the bed, and he actually gasps when the back of his legs hit, when you take a beat to raise your eyebrows at him, silently asking permission.

He's already letting himself fall back with a wicked, delighted grin as your hand finds his bare chest.

Then he's breathless, with you braced over him, gazing down at him with a furious determination that you don't usually allow yourself to build up. Felix looks up at you with pure extasy in his eyes, like you hang the stars in the sky. His hands on your ass, his grip is firm and secure, but he doesn't move; he's letting you lead.

"Felix Catton, I ruin lives for you," you practically snarl; a breathy laugh escapes him, caught up in the moment, in the mood that's been building within you, "doesn't feel like enough sometimes -"

"You're so fucking hot," he groans like he can't even help himself, can't hold himself back, can't help but close the gap to your lips, kissing you with that same intensity you're giving him.

"If I hear-" you punctuate your words with rough kisses, "another word-" biting at his lips, "against you, I'm -" fumbling with his belt, "I'm gonna start cutting people -"

"Yeah?" Felix prompts breathlessly with a sharp grin, not even waiting to get your fly all the way down before his hand is in your pants, fingers at an awkward angle in your jeans but still finding your clit. It's like you're feeling everything tenfold with the earlier outrage still burning in your veins -

Vapid pricks. The likes of you. Slag. Watching Felix's hands on the girl in the club. The venom in his voice and fury in his eyes when he'd pinned Farleigh to the wall to defend you - Our Felix; Oliver's voice like honey in your ears, tempting that jealous creature in your chest that you'd gone for years ignoring -

"My Felix," you'd purred as your hand found his cock. For a moment, his breath came out as a stutter, eyes going wide as they meets yours. He looks almost incredulous, then, after a moment, hungry, wanting. It's captivating; he's captivating, like he's desperate to devour every part of this moment and you in it, barely holding himself back.

"One more time for me?" He requests, voice low and pleased, before he changes tactics, indicating for both of you to actually take off your pants.

"Everyone's fucking wrong about you," you tell him, kicking your jeans to the side, watching for a moment as he shimmies with his jeans, looking like he's made of ninety percent limbs. Still, your intensity holds.

"Even the people that like me?" Felix laughs, finally getting himself free of the jeans. Before he can remove his boxers, however, you're on him once more, thumbs hooking into the waistband and pulling them down slowly as you speak.

"Everyone else has these versions of you in their head," you begin to plant kisses along his inner thigh as you work your way up, looking up at him through your lashes, "where you're either an angel who can do no wrong," Felix is already hard when you begin to slowly work your hand up and down the shaft of his cock, "or the absolute devil who's a scourge on the female population," your lip curls for a moment, a derisive kind of amusement at their imagined expense.

"I can't look at you right now," he half chokes out, head falling back against your duvet, "fuck," he gasps. It's enough to bring you back to the moment, and you apologise -

"No, fuck, don't stop anything; the ranting, the -" he gestures to where your movements had slowed briefly, "any of it, I just literally," he laughs a little awkwardly, almost a little self-deprecatingly, "will not last more than a minute if I look at you right now."

Oh.

Oh! This is good!

"What's so different," he prompts through shaky breathes - you can't quite believe how much he's effected by you in this moment, how enthusiastically, how desperately he responds to your dominant intensity - "about the version of me in your head?"

After a beat, you climb off of him, already reaching for your drawer.

"Everything okay?" He asks, eyes opening as he tilts his head to look at you. Pulling out a tube of lube, you focus on opening it up, rather than Felix himself. You should be using protection, you know you should be using protection, but you want to feel all of him, only him.

"I can't talk with my mouth full," you told him, still maintaining that steely intensity, "so we're skipping foreplay." Felix, immediately understanding where you were going with all this, looks back up at the ceiling with a wide smile.

"Fine by me; right now I'm inclined to say that you can do whatever you want forever, honestly - cold!" He announced with shock, jerking up a little as you glided a generous amount of lubricant over his cock. There's a faint look of betray in his eyes, but you just gave him a thin, mean smile.

"Felix, stop talking."

The commanding tone is enough to get him back on board, groaning, arching into your touch as you once again were working his shaft, now so slick your hand glided easily up and down the impressive length.

"My Felix," voice once again low, you use some of the excess lubricant on yourself. Since leaving the library, however, your anger had known it's outlet; just the idea of fucking Felix in a righteous fury had gotten you going, and you were already wet, wanting, desperate for him.

"Don't make me beg," he all but whimpered as you finally straddled his thighs, "fuck, I'll do it for you, but -"

"Shut. Up. Felix." You leaned down, chest pressed to his lips inches from his, whispering, "I won't make you beg," as you sink down onto his cock, swallowing his moan with a kiss.

"I am under no illusions about you, Felix," you begin to murmur, hips rolling at a deep, consistent rhythm, "I don't have a version of you in my head, I just have you; I just want you, as you are."

Pace picking up, you sit, rake your nails lightly down his chest, watch as he pants and groans beneath you. When he holds your hips, your thighs, you can feels his nails digging in, burying himself deep inside of you with each rhythmic thrust. There's something primal and triumphant roaring in your chest, pushing you to sink your nails into him, your teeth -

"I don't care who you fuck," you tell him through gritted teeth, picking up your pace, thighs burning.

"You're a fucking liar," tumbles from Felix's lips as he looks up at you with a smirk.

"I don't, I'd be a hypocrite -" very suddenly, Felix sits up, and you go still with him still inside of you, adjusting to the change, wrapping your legs around him.

"Then you're a hypocrite," he smirks, gaze hazy, heady, euphoric in this moment, "and a liar," and he wraps his arms around you as he kisses you, pulling you back with him as he lays back down on the bed.

"I'm not jealous," you start again, softer this time, but still aiming for stern.

"I'll say I believe you," there's mischief in Felix's eyes as his hand snakes between the two of you, fingers rubbing circles against your clit as you pick your rhythm back up again, slower this time.

"Fi," for the first time all afternoon, your voice softens, and you let your stern demeanour break, instead looking over him, glowing with sweat and endorphins, in your bed, in you, looking up at you with nothing but love in his eyes, "I don't care if nobody knows it's me, but -" you wet your lips, wicked little smile on your lips, "I want everyone else you ever fuck to be jealous of the way you let me fuck you."

Something about your words, your request, perhaps your tone, sets him off again; you rake your nails lightly down his chest again and he arches up, swearing, almost breathless.

"Yes, fuck, yes," comes out alongside a breathless moan, "my Y/N, anything you want - please."

You paint him blue and purple and the deepest, prettiest red with hickeys, leaving him looking absolutely scandalous. Of course he returns the favour in the form of scratch marks up your back and his teeth almost drawing blood from your shoulder. When he comes it's with your mouth on his neck and his cock deep inside of you, holding you close, holding you steady, whispering incoherent praise into your ear. Always diligent, he doesn't move, doesn't pull out or away from you before his focus is on you, making sure you get off, delighting in watching you unravel on top of him.

In the afterglow, amid the sharing of a cigarette and catching of your breath, you apologise softly.

"What are you apologising for?" He immediately cracks a grin, "in fact, any time you ever start to get all worked up and mean like that, have me on speed dial -"

"I - no, Fi," you sighed, amused at his suggestion, though it was fading fast, "I just... try not to be jealous," there's faint notes of guilt now that you've come down from the adrenaline and endorphins of it all. Sitting against the headboard, you draw your knees up to your chest.

"I know," Felix says easily, sitting up beside you, resting his head against your shoulder, his hand on your knee, "I try too... I don't think I'm always that great at hiding it." Then, after a moment, his tone lightens, "I think this is why I don't want to tell people about us, I don't think I could begin to explain it in a way that makes sense." It gets you to laugh, leaning into him, tension and guilt easing.

"I thought it was the rush of sneaking around and lying to people."

"There's that too," he agreed with a chuckle. The two of you fall into easy silence as he takes a drag on the cigarette and hands it over. The afternoon is sticky-hot, especially in your room, curtains still half open but window shut. As you go to open it, not caring about potential onlookers in the twilight, past the sliver of your curtain, Felix speaks up.

"There's no version of me in your head? Not even a little bit rose-coloured-glasses tinted?" He grins at you, and you lay out on the bed, looking up at him through your lashes. After a moment of simply taking the moment in, you shake your head with a soft smile.

"I told you, I'm under no illusions about you, Fi."

"I think you're too good to me for that to be true."

"I want you as you are, dude," you shrug, as if it's the easiest truth in the world.

"As I am?" He wants to be sceptical but his tone and the look in his eyes betrays him. You've never heard him quite so soft you think, eyes wide and glassy and full of conflict and love; everyone wants him, everyone loves him, everyone wants to be him or be with him, he's reckoned with his reality a long time ago, even if he wasn't entirely conscious of it. Felix's life had been picked apart by everyone around him at the surface level for as long as he could remember, perhaps he'd thought that no-one would ever care to look deeper. Perhaps he'd gotten so used to it that he'd forgotten there was anything deeper.

"I want the Felix who can't keep a girlfriend for more than two months, and who's cheated on every single one of them with me," you start, wearing a grin despite his sudden frown, "I want the Felix who hugs and kisses strangers after just meeting them because he's bursting at the seams with affection, I want the Felix who won't admit that he sleeps better with someone next to him at night, and the Felix who recaps the books he's been reading to me like they're gossip. The Felix who uses people, and breaks hearts, who says he doesn't know he's doing it but I know you do," you laugh, sitting up on your knees and letting the blankets slide down your back as Felix looks up at you now with a fond kind of reverence, "I want the Felix that lights up every room he's in without even trying, who makes everyone around him feel like they're the only person in the world, and that same Felix who still shifts over, mid conversation with someone else, for me to sit down beside him without having to even ask, because you know we'll always come back to each other," you lean down, lips inches from his, burning intensity in your gaze as you take in the reverence in his eyes, "the Fi who fights for me, the Fi who loves that I'd ruin lives for him, my Felix -" You see the moment he can no longer hold himself back, arcing forward, moving from the headboard to be by you, capturing your lips in a tender kiss. For a long moment it's your mouth fitting perfectly against his, faint, desperate groan being pulled from the back of his throat as he takes your face in his hands, firm, warm, wanting, deepening the kiss.

"Some of those things were pretty shit," he laughed a little self consciously after the kiss breaks, both of you breathing heavy. In his eyes you can see the barest hint of conflict.

"People have said worse."

"And you got them expelled," he reminded with a faint smile, but again there's that conflict, "and they aren't you."

"You're my best mate," you laugh easily, "that shit, the good and the less good, makes you my Felix. Be pretty shit of me to want to chop and change who you are, you know?"

For a very long moment, you watch the way he slowly begins to smile, to take all your saying in drinking in this sun-drenched moment. Reaching out, he carefully touches your cheek.

"Say it again then," he prompts, sounding almost giddy, feather-light touches as if mapping your delicate features in this moment. For a brief second you're confused, barely angling your head to indicate as such before you can see his faint blush beneath his golden skin, creeping up his cheeks. When he laughs, almost self conscious, you realise, and grin back.

"You're a sap."

"Don't make me beg."

"My Felix."

[medusapelagia]

One. Big. Step.

written for @steddiemicrofic (Prompt: one | 1111 words) and @steddie-week (Day 2, Prompt: Touch Starved) Rating: Teen and Up Relationship: Steve/Eddie TW: none Words: 1111

The anticipation is what makes Eddie antsy. 

When someone starts to walk toward him, his heart starts beating faster and louder, his ears buzz, his breathing gets too accelerated (air hunger, as his mom used to call it), and he begins to sweat, profusely, leaving a dark damp stain under the armpit of his t-shirts, which is the main reason he always wears black t-shirts. Or t-shirts with black sleeves. 

When the person walking toward him is Steve the Hair Harrington, well, it's even worse. 

Eddie's tongue gets entangled in his mouth and when he's finally able to speak a few words, the ones that come from his mouth are either stupid or cruel. But even if Eddie hates himself for that, in some ways it works perfectly well because Steve freezes, a sad smile painted on his face, and mutters, "I'll see you around, Munson," before turning and leaving Eddie alone, which is exactly what he wants. Because Eddie the banished has only one big fear: being touched. 

It's a fear that comes from afar and even if Eddie is ashamed of it, it’s not something Eddie will overcome easily. 

In his entire life touch meant hurt. Every time Al Munson came home drunk, every time a policeman caught him stealing some food, every time a teacher dragged him to the principal office, their touch meant hurt. And pain. And blood.

Those people left a wound in Eddie’s soul; a wound he’s not sure it will ever heal.

It doesn't help that the only person he trusts is not very outgoing either.

Wayne never hurt him, but never tried to touch him either.

And now he’s untouchable.  

None in the Hellfire Club dares to hug him, not even Gareth, who has been his best friend since they were kids. To be honest, Gareth is his shield, the best one he could have ever asked for. He's the one who detects Eddie's anxiety and puts himself between the threat and his best friend and in Eddie’s opinion, that’s fucking metal. 

It doesn't matter if most of the time the threat is just a girl asking for a pen during English class or a boy getting too close to Eddie in the cafeteria. Gareth is there, ready to lend a pen or step between Eddie and the rest of the world.

Gareth is the person who knows Eddie intimately. He knows about his past, that he deals to make ends meet, and that there's a kind spirit hidden under the metal jewelry and the fake attitude. What Gareth doesn't know, it's that even if Eddie is scared of touch, he has finally met someone who makes him feel butterflies in his stomach and almost makes him wish for things he never thought were possible for him, like holding hands or even kissing. And that person is Steve Harrington.

Eddie knows that there's something between the two of them, a kind of opposite attraction they both feel, but how can he surrender to the pull he feels when even the idea of getting close to Steve makes him shit his pants?

"Maybe you should start gradually." Gareth wisely proposes when Eddie finally confesses his tribulation to him, "Choose someone you trust and ask him to touch you or something like that."

"Wouldn't that be weird? Like… Hi, can you hold my hand for a moment? Don't worry if I freak out, it's a normal reaction."

"You could start with Wayne." Gareth replies, gulping down his soda in the hot Indiana summer, "He knows you're weird."

"Why didn't I think of that? Hi Wayne, can you hug me? Yeah, I'm weird and I'm also gay and I need some physical contact before I try to hold hands with my crush. Very subtle and not suspicious at all. He won't kick me out of the trailer. No sir."

Gareth sighs, slouching on Eddie's broken couch, "You know he wouldn't. He had so many reasons to kick you out and he never did, but if you don't want to ask him, I get it. What if I volunteer?" Gareth asks, reaching out with one arm.

He gives Eddie the time to stop him or move away, but the metalhead swallows all his fears and gives him a little nod.

The contact between Gareth's calluses hand and Eddie's elbow it's not pleasurable, but it doesn't make him jump out of his skin either.

"You ok?"

Eddie nods, quietly, focusing on the feeling and identifying every single sensation. The warmth of Gareth's skin, the roughness of his hand, the steadiness of his arm. Eddie closes his eyes, takes a few deep breaths, and then he whispers, "Stop."

Gareth immediately releases his soft grip, his eyes pinned on Eddie, "Still ok?"

"Yeah. I got a bit overwhelmed." Eddie confesses, turning his attention towards a dog barking a few feet away. Noticing Eddie's attention the dog starts to pull at the chain even harder barking in his direction and Eddie wonders why a barking dog is less scary than a friendly touch.

"We could do a little exposure therapy if you want. Here at the trailer, where you're more comfortable and none can see us.”

With a snort, complaining in a low voice that exposure therapy seems even more complicated than dealing in a small town like Hawkins, Eddie begrudgingly agrees to do a few cuddling sessions, as Gareth mockingly calls them, every day after band practice.

Maybe it's not a lot, but sitting close to each other on the same bench, or brushing their fingers while sharing a joint seems to be really helping, and after a couple of months, when Dustin invites them to see a movie at Steve's place, for the first time Eddie seats on the couch, not on the bean bag as usual. Dustin stares at him open-mouthed, but a stern look from Gareth is all it takes to get his attention back on the screen.

When Steve gets back with a couple of bowls of popcorn, the only empty seat is the couch where Eddie is already making himself comfortable, putting his feet on the coffee table while yelling something against the movie director.

Turning toward Steve, Eddie simply asks "Aren't you going to sit?"

Steve gives the biggest bowl to Dustin and puts the small one in the middle of the couch, to keep some space between them, and when their fingers brush above the popcorn bowl and Eddie doesn't retreat, Steve gives him the best smile ever.

Maybe sitting on the same couch watching a movie with the kids isn't the most romantic thing ever, but it's a step. One. Big. Step.

permanent taglist: @katyawriteswhump

[sixeyescurseuser]

Teachers Satosugu

Thinking about adults Satosugu who become Jujutsu Tech teachers together. They’re married too. In their late 20s, they’ve found sweet domestic bliss in the dangerous yet meaningful life they’ve created for themselves. 

Geto still makes sure to praise Gojo for all the work he does; often surprising Gojo with his favorite sweets or a trip down to the street vendors, saying: “Thank you for your hard work, Satoru” and “Come on, let’s eat something special, you deserve it.”

Gojo still goes on his one hour rants about topics that fascinate him, and Geto listens without complaining. Even if this is the third time digimon has been brought up this week. 

Geto stays at the school to teach for the majority of the time. He only takes missions if they are emergencies and avoids interacting with the higher ups. Thankfully, Gojo is more than willing to deal with that side of work. 

While Geto is involved in both physical training and classroom lessons, he’s more hands-on with the latter. Compared to the Kyoto students, let’s just say that the Tokyo students don’t put in a ton of effort when it comes to their academic scores. 

Geto is fated to be the hardworking but disappointed teacher. 

(Geto: “Nobara, Yuji, c’mon, I am begging you two to study more.)

The thing with Yuji is that he is smart in that he can memorize things and write well, but not being exposed to the sorcerer world from a young age has put him really behind. 

(Geto: “Hasn’t Satoru told you all about Sukuna’s origins and what not? Given you books from the library?”

Yuji: “Oh the library! I forgot that existed!”

Geto: …

Yuji: “Also no, Gojo-sensei didn’t tell me anything yet.”

Geto: 💀💀)

Additionally, Gojo isn’t the best when it comes to structured lessons in the classroom. He’d much rather skip over the boring stuff and show his students the real excitement out on the field.

This is where Tokyo students surpass Kyoto students in fighting abilities. Plus, getting lots of first-hand experience of what sorcerers actually deal with helps them quickly adapt to situations and strategize how to outwit their opponent. 

But book-smart-wise? Megumi carries. 

Once, Yaga gave the first years a firm reprimanding because of the missing past three mission reports. (Excluding Megumi.) Turns out, Gojo didn’t inform the first years about filling out mission reports at all. 

That night, Geto scolds the shit out of Gojo. 

Gojo: “Hey Suguru, isn't that your job? I just help them train their fighting skills, no?”

Geto pinches Gojo’s side - who lets out an undignified yelp - even though he knows Gojo is just joking. Besides, Gojo does try to teach the rules better after Geto’s scolding. Gojo just needs reminders, that’s all.

It doesn’t help that Gojo is literally a prodigy and always does things his own way. 

(Geto, shaking his head: “Lord knows these kids need all the help they can get with you as their teacher.”

Gojo: [jaw open, betrayed]

Cue Gojo decisively turning the other away in their bed. 

Geto: “Oh, did I upset the baby?”

Gojo: “Worse. You upset your husband.”

Geto guffaws.

“My husband can take it.” Geto moves so he’s spooning Gojo.  “Isn’t that right?”

Geto’s breath tickles Gojo’s ear, making Gojo shiver.

What were they talking about again?)

***

Gojo might be busy as hell but Geto will be there to protect their students from the higher ups. 

That mission where Yuji died for a short while after switching with Sukuna to face that special grade? It would never have gotten that bad. Geto would’ve been with his students and protected them.

Geto is anxious to the point where he designates certain curses for specific people, mostly to look after his students. This way, he can be there if his students are in serious danger, preventing more young sorcerers from dying due to the higher ups' negligence.

Of course, Geto’s rainbow dragon has always been assigned to Gojo. 

Gojo will often take Yuji on rides on the rainbow dragon, either for missions or just to be up in the air. When this happens, Geto’s orders for the rainbow dragon consist of: “Only listen to Satoru’s reasonable orders” and “Protect Yuji from Satoru’s recklessness.” 

On another note, Geto’s curses would have intercepted before Todo and Mai could beat the shit out of Nobara and Megumi. Geto himself would show up quickly after, furious when he sees the Kyoto students trying to take out his students. 

(Geto with his murderous glare: “As far as I know, the competition hasn’t started yet. No one should be picking fights with each other, hmm?”

Mai and Todo, quietly: “Of course, Geto-san. We’ll be taking our leave.”

Geto stays standing in front of Nobara and Megumi until the Kyoto students leave.)

Even as teachers, Geto and Gojo are incredibly competitive with Kyoto. Of course they’re going to talk shit during the goodwill exchange event. They’ll watch the broadcast of the competition and loudly cheer their students on. They’ll also whisper to each other in the most obnoxious way. 

Utahime is about to bust her blood vessels. She still throws her tea at Gojo when he makes a snarky comment that pisses her off; the tea bounces off of Gojo’s infinity and splashes all over Geto, who groans. 

Well, that shut the pair up for now. 

***

When Nobara spilled coffee on Gojo’s shirt, Geto had been the one to catch them first. 

(Shaking his head, Geto says: “You guys really did it this time…”

Nobara: “We could just replace it??”

Megumi: “It is 250,000 yen.”

Geto: “It's also Satoru’s favorite white shirt.” He pats Nobara’s shoulder comfortingly.

Yuji: “Geto-sensei, please help us!”

Geto: “And spend the precious money I earned with my own hard work? I don't know, Yuji-kun, I gain nothing from helping you.”

Nobara: “He’s your husband”

Geto: “And he’s your sensei.” He turns to Megumi. “Slash father”

Megumi: 😩😩

Moments later, Gojo enters the room: “Iijichi-kun said you guys have my newly laundered shirt-“

He sees Megumi with two breast bumps.

Gojo: ??

The others laugh as Nobara pulls out the stained shirt, causing Gojo to let out the most horrified, dramatic gasp. 

All the students find it hilarious, but Geto laughs the hardest. He's bent over, hands on his knees, straight up cackling. When Geto somewhat catches his breath, one look at Gojo’s stricken face sends him into another fit of laughter. 

(They are so married.)

Geto walks over and slings himself over Gojo. 

Geto: “It’s okay, Satoru, you can just get another one.”

Gojo: “That was my favorite one, you know this, Suguru~~”

Geto: “Satoru...you’re rich-“

Gojo: “My clothes are important, they aren’t so easily replaceable. Imagine if I had tried to replace you-“

Geto: “Did you just compare me to your inanimate white shirt?”

Geto begins to pull back, but Gojo immediately latches on to him.

Gojo: “Noooo, I didn’t mean it. I love you~~”

They proceed to act out a mini-drama, which ends in Geto leaving with faux-disappointment and Gojo chasing after him.

Consequently, Gojo forgets about his stained-beyond-repair 250,000 yen shirt.

***

When formation B occurs in response to Megumi being “hit on,” Geto watches from afar, disappointment deep in his veins. 

We’re too old for this, he thinks when Gojo reveals Megumi has to master twinkle twinkle little star. 

Having had enough, Geto steps in and tugs Gojo away. 

“Baby, come here, you forgot to take your pills this morning,” Geto says. Gojo gasps in offense. 

“SUGURU, SHUT UP! I'M NOT MENTALLY ILL!“ Gojo cries, but now there’s no way he doesn't look crazy.

Geto has his arms wrapped around Gojo’s waist while Gojo flails to escape. 

“Satoru, stay STILL- NO you are not going back!”

They end up making a bigger scene. Megumi wants to d-word. 

(“With this treasure i summon-“)

Gojo doesn’t care who hears or sees, and is now screeching for Geto to let him go. Left with no other choice, Geto bites Gojo’s shoulder. He also tries to shove his fist in Gojo’s mouth - anything to shut him up.

Geto is going all out like they’re teenagers again. 

(Nobara at Geto: “YEAH GET HIS ASS!”)

Geto eventually becomes aware of the small crowd that has gathered and rethinks his actions. He ends up dragging Gojo by his collar. 

“Ok, we’re leaving,” Geto calls to their students, leaving no room for argument. Megumi immediately follows, dragging Yuji and Nobara in tow.

***

w/ @no-one-says-hi

[yuyu1024]

6yrs

Pairings: Yunho × y/n

Genre/tags: lovers to strangers

Warning: pet names, cursing, cheating

~~~ [lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 1.3k

Disclaimers:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

A/N: i am in my down moments lately... and i want to write something a bit sad randomly

Hope you all have a wonderful day. 🖤

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

6yrs. You and Yunho have been together for that long already. From college to now as adults. He is your first in everything. He is your guy, your comfort and your safezone. He is the man you always have dreamed of.

He is perfect and He's yours.

However, these past few months have been very... off for you. Well, both of you. And you know why.

A few months ago, after you guys celebrated your 6th year anniversary together, Yunho got a call from his supervisor that he is a candidate for a promotion. That his boss is rooting for him and for sure know that after a few more deliberation with the rest of the team, you will get it.

Both of you were so ecstatic. You even jumped like a kid on a trampoline after hearing his news. Coz you know how hard working and passionate your man is with his job. You know he deserves it.

It will have its pros and cons being promoted especially when it comes to time with you or whatever. But it does not matter coz you know it is his for him and it will make him happy career wise. And you know Yunho will do a good job balancing his life and work.

But then just more than a month after he got the position, it suddenly went south.

Yunho have been going home late two to three times a week. Which is not bad coz its not everyday and too extreme. However, whenever he goes home now you feel the distance building between you two. It felt like he has been coming home to you and expecting to just pick his coat and bag on the floor, make sure he eats and then let him rest.

He have gotten so cold and quiet.

You tried talking to him during his off days. Wanting to suggest to go on a date or hang out somewhere, have fun, play games, watch a movie or something. But he either rejects you because he is tired or if he agrees, it feels so forced.

What happened? You were so lost. Unsure what to do or say. But being the girlfriend, you always made sure he feels loved and taken care off. Because you also thought that he might be just having this transition in his life because of a new environment at work.

You believed that this shall pass.

But as months go by... it gotten worse.

It came to a point that you two feels like two strangera living together. That the 6yrs of being boyfriend-girlfriend was suddenly felt like nothing.

***

"You think.... it's better... that I move out?" You blurt while starting at your plate during breakfast.

Yunho pauses and slowly raise his gaze to you. "What?" He is stunned by your sudden question.

Still looking at your plate whilst poking your food you add, "Because... I feel like... I'm not needed here anymore..." then you eyes lifts up to look at him. "Nor wanted by you anymore..."

He probably stopped breathing for a second but after processing what you said, "Y/N..."

You snort an irritated laugh. "Shocker. You still know my name..." you mumble.

"I'm sorry...." he answers lowering his head. "I'm caught up so much work that I..."

"Just work?" You ask, going back to staring while poking your food.

His head snaps back up, brows rippled. "What do you mean by that?"

"I'm not dumb." You softly say before letting go of the fork then proceed to putting your legs up your chair and  then hugging your knees. "I know... I know everything...." your voice breaks at the end.

An important detail why something is off between the two of you this past few months is that, Yunho, cheating. A woman from his work. His teammate.

You caught him one time, as you were coming home late after having a drink or two with your friends, when you saw him walking with the woman. They are not drunk. They are casually walking together, laughing and acting like they are on a date.

At first you told yourself that they are just friends. That maybe Yunho is just being respectful to the elder girl, who is obviously into him, that he cannot just publicly embarass her to tell her to move away. But then, as you follow them even more just around corner of the next building, you see them making out.

It's not just her making moves to him. Yunho was actually kissing her back. He was kissing her the way he kisses you. 💔

"You know what hurts too...?" You begin , "is that I was standing there.... obviously and in plain sight... but you weren't able to see me... or notice that someone is watching..." you wipe the first tear that roll down on your cheek. "You were to focus on her... so... taken by her..."

"Y/N..." tears starts to build up in his eyes. "I'm sorry..."

"No your not." You say, trying to hold on a bit more to not actually break apart in front of him. "Coz if you really loved me, you would not...you would not ever...."

You fail. You can't stop yourself from crying now. You cover your face as you sob and loudly whine as you express all the pain you have been keeping in for the past months.

It hurts. So painful. And yet the man in front of you can't and won't even defend himself or try to talk.

It felt like he just confessed through his silence that he did and is cheating. And probably will not stop seeing her.

"Why?" You ask. "Am I not enough? Not successful enough...? Ugly?" You take a deep breath in, "Do I not satisfy you in bed anymore? What... w-hat did I do? What made you do it? Why? Why now?"

He becomes silent.

"For fuck sakes, Yunho! Six years! We've beem together for six years and this is what I get? I know I'm not perfect but... God!" You cry it out more, facing him away. You are crying so much that you can barely breathe now and you eyes are blood shot red.

"Y/N..." he stands up and tries to reach out to help you to breathe but you move away quickly.

You stand up and jerk away from him.

"Please..."

"Please what?" You look at him, with sad yet fiercing eyes. "Stay? Why? So you can have someone to act like your 'girlfriend' when your other woman is not around to please you?"

"I... I love you." He mumbles, "please..."

"You don't." You wipe the rest of the tears off your cheek. "You stopped loving me the second you cheated. You are just keeping me around because you are used to having me around. You are just saying you love me because you need me."

"I'm sorry...." Yunho goes down to his knees and begs. "Please don't go.... I... No... I made a mistake... I... she helped me get through all the troubles at work and... it just..."

"You confided with her and not with me? As your girlfriend?"

"I know it's wrong... but... I didn't want to burden you with my own problems..."

"And look what it caused."

"Please...." Yunho crawls closer to you and hugs you by the waist. "I'm sorry... I will stop... I already told her I can't do it... I just... had to tell her to..."

"Yeah... I think it's better if I move out..." you peel him off you. "I don't think I can do it any longer..."

He is crying, looking at you. "Babe, please."

"I'm sorry." You say as you then pull out the promise ring he gave you from your first anniversary.

[doesthatsuggestanythingtoyou]

Prophecies

Canis Minor (2)

> larissa weems x fem!reader

> requested? no!

> content/warnings: idk what the fuck this is so idk what warnings i should put 🤷🏻‍♀️

> a/n: literally a writer's random thought to another taylor swift song, anw here's the song. Guilty as Sin? tbh i don't know if the song connects to the story but who cares? oh, i do 😭

Drowning in the Blue Nile

She sent me 'Downtown Lights'

I hadn't heard it in a while

My boredom's bone deep

This cage was once just fine

Am I allowed to cry?

“In what universe did she ever say that to you?” Vlad, may the universe bless his nonexistent soul, asked you.

Meeting Vlad in your first year of teaching was not part of your itinerary in Nevermore, especially befriending the vampire. Yet, things just seemed so normal when you were with him. His straightforwardness stilled you to the ground, and your imagination led him to the stars. You'd assume it was a friendship between the skies themselves. But as time went by, you couldn’t help but feel irritated, as his memory seemed to fail him once more in your latest gossip discourse.

Scratching your nape, you turned to observe the plants sitting on your windowsill. “If my memory serves me right,” you hummed and gave Vlad a glance. “The other night?”

Rolling his eyes, Vlad took a swig of his bloody Mary. “You were with Marilyn the other night.” Lowering his drink to the table, he tsked before giving you a disapproving shake of his head. “I do not like this side of you.”

“That makes the two of us.”

I dream of cracking locks

Throwing my life to the wolves

Or the ocean rocks

Crashing into her tonight

She’s a paradox

I'm seeing visions, am I bad?

Or mad? Or wise?

“How long have you had forget-me-nots in the greenhouse, Mar?”

Marilyn hummed before looking at you and then at the flowers you now hold. “I’ve had them since I moved here.”

Frowning, you set the pot down and walked towards Marilyn. “I was there when you moved here, was I not?” Sitting on a chair next to her, you watched Marilyn weed her plants and toss them in the bin next to her.

Kneeling upright, Marilyn took a quick look at you before going to her desk. She took a picture frame and gave it to you before kneeling down to continue her work. Inside the frame was a picture of the faculty, with Marilyn and Larissa in the middle, you on Larissa’s left, and Vlad on yours. You traced the picture down to the date signed below it.

11/23/22

Nevermore Faculty

Holding the picture tight, you frowned as you jogged your memory to remember what happened that day. Yet, after minutes of trying, the only thing you got was a migraine. You groaned and went to Marilyn’s desk to return the frame to its rightful place. “Thank you, Mar. I’m afraid I have to go now.”

Watching you leave the greenhouse, Marilyn sighed. She didn’t know how to tell you. And she’s sure as hell wasn’t going to be the one telling you. Let Vlad or whoever else tell you, just not her. No, scratch that, not Vlad. There was only one person who would tell you. It needs to be that person. Not your friends. It needs to be her.

What if she's written 'mine' on my upper thigh?

Only in my mind?

One slip and falling back into the hedge maze

Oh, what a way to die

“It is getting worse, Marilyn!”

“We can’t tell her, Vlad, not us.”

Sighing, Marilyn watched as Vlad paced vigorously in her office. Although you were their friend, it was not their story to share with you. They couldn’t tell you the whole story without the other side. They couldn't let you hate her while she resents herself for allowing what happened to you to happen.

“The school will open in a few weeks, Mar. She cannot stay in that godforsaken office until then. We need someone to boss us around!” Marilyn understood where Vlad was coming from. In three weeks, the gates of Nevermore will be opened, and the principal has yet to come out of her office. Since the incident, Larissa has chosen to hide within her office. And as the days pass, one by one, the members of the faculty start to lose their minds. They do not know how to function without Larissa, the lone similarity all of them shared.

“She is punishing herself.” Groaning, Vlad opened his bottle of whiskey and took a swig.

“Vlad!” Marilyn hissed as the coach slumped beside her. “It is the middle of the day!”

“And? What is your point, dear friend?” With that, Marilyn slapped Vlad’s arm and left the office to tend the greenhouse.

I keep recalling things we never did

Messy top lip kiss

How I long for our trysts

Kicking down her office door was not part of the plan, to Marilyn, that is. But for Vlad? It was the first plan B he thought of if Larissa didn’t open the door for them as they knocked. “Larissa! There you are!”

Feeling for the light switch, Marilyn narrowed her eyes as she turned the light on. Only to find the office devoid of any life, apart from a rather emotionless Larissa. “Principal Weems, we apologize for kicking your office door open.” She slapped Vlad on the arm, earning her a scoff from the vampire. Giving Vlad a glare, she tilted her head toward Larissa.

“Ugh, fine.” Marilyn heard Vlad whisper, “I apologize for kicking your door open.” Strolling forward, Vlad sat in front of Larissa’s desk, making Marilyn shake her head in disapproval. “Unbelievable,” she whispered.

Tapping the desk to get Larissa’s attention, Vlad observed the woman before him. This wasn’t the same woman who hired him. That woman was fierce, and the woman in front of him was weak, lifeless, and emotionless. “Larissa, speak to us.” Vlad saw Marilyn join him in his peripheral vision and nodded towards the redhead.

“Please, Principal Weems.”

Turning to look at the two teachers before her, Larissa’s eyes turned glassy. Yet she blinked them away, not wanting her colleagues to see her so sensitive. “Yes, Coach Vlad? Marilyn?”

“It wasn’t your fault.”

Letting out a chuckle, Larissa rolled her eyes. “Do not patronize me, Vlad.”

Frowning, Marilyn shook her head and took Larissa’s hand in hers. “It’s true. It wasn’t your fault, Larissa. None of it was. It was an incident beyond your control.” Marilyn tightened her hold on the blonde’s hand, desperately trying to let the blonde believe that what happened to you was not her fault.

“It was an incident only she could control,” Vlad added. This made Larissa turn her head toward him, her eyes asking what he meant.

“She,” Vlad gave Marilyn a look before continuing, “had visions of the incident happening, yet she did nothing to prevent it.”

“Why?”

“Visions come to her like prophecies, Larissa. Surely you know why they are called that?” Vlad asked his boss humorously. “Changing a prophecy would mean changing the course of someone’s future.” Shaking his head, Vlad stood up and went to the nearest window. Catching you teaching one of the faculty your tricks in archery, he let out a teary chuckle before turning to look at the women in the room.

“It would mean changing the course of your future, and she couldn’t do that to you. Not when she understands that in every future you have, she isn’t part of it.”

Without ever touching her skin

How can I be guilty as sin?

[jumpywhumpywriter]

Vampire Captures Vampire Hunter to Use as Bloodbag part 29

Warnings: aftermath of escape attempt, vampire carewhumper, recovery whump, blood drinking from the wrist, forced to clean blood off floors

Once he was satisfied, he carefully slid his fangs out, licking a few stray drops of blood that beaded from the puncture wounds before they healed over.

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

Mallory shuddered in disgust as Alex healed his arm and pulled away, biting back a barbed remark -- knowing it had the potential to make this whole situation ten times worse.

He turned his face away from the vampire in shame, closing his eyes and trying to ignore the throbbing headache pounding in his skull. He needed to rest, and everything would be better when he woke up... right?

To his relief, Alex left him alone after the feeding, and he finally let himself relax a fraction -- though his guard never lowered. He wasn't sure what to think of Alex's changed demeanor, if the bloodsucker's sudden kindness was fake or genuine. Maybe he was truly trying to make life better for him, for some odd reason. But he didn't have long to ponder before exhaustion swept him away into the realm of deep sleep.

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

Two days later and the fever was gone. But it wasn't quite a relief, because the instant Mallory was able to consistently walk on his own without assistance Alex was dragging him out of the bed and toward the front of the mansion.

The hunter didn't dare ask questions, stumbling after the vampire who was almost dragging him by the arm. His stomach flipped when he stopped in front of several dark red spots on the floor and walls.

It was dried blood. Mallory's blood, from almost a week ago now.

"Anisa said humans like to do things that keep them busy," Alex explained, "so you're going to earn your stay. You can do chores around my mansion, starting with cleaning up the mess you made earlier." He gestured to where a mop and pail of water were already waiting.

"I'm pretty sure Anisa meant hobbies," Mallory retorted dryly. "Hobbies are what humans like to do to stay busy. Not working themselves raw when they aren't even fully recovered yet from a vicious vampire attack."

Alex shrugged. "I'll clarify that with her later. For now, clean that up. And don't try to run. Every door is locked, and I'll hear you if you take one step out of this room before you're finished. Clear?"

"Clear as mud," Mallory muttered under his breath. "It's your fault there's blood on the floor in the first place..." He wisely shut his mouth at the dangerous warning look the vampire cut him.

"All right," he relented. "I'll do your stupid chores, as long as you leave me alone." It wasn't like he had a choice, anyway, if he wanted to avoid another serious beating.

"Good." Alex nodded approvingly, then breezed out of the room and left him to his work.

⏪️ Back Next ⏩️

Masterlist

@scoundrelwithboba @lumpofsand @isikedmyself878 @iamheretohurt @fleur-a-whump

@ay5ksal @otterfrost @sausages-things @togzy @floral-comet-whump

@whump-till-ya-jump @cravesunconditionallove @whumpwritinglover222 @nevermore-ramblings

[wandamaxim0f]

After the war — Fred Weasley

Words: 1.4k

Fred Weasley x Female reader

Tw: mentions of the war, character death, mentions of the battle of the department of mysteries, mentions of anxiety and fear

A/N: in all honesty, fred was my first fictional love, and no matter how many characters I love, I always come back to him. In the wise Taylor Swift words, "I drive down different roads, but they all lead back to you"

Fred grinned softly as he opened the door to the house the two of you had purchased not too long ago. The second big commitment both of you had made together, the first one being when he got down in one knee almost a year ago now. Planning the wedding was not something neither of you wanted to do just now, relaxing into the idea of growing up a bit more before walking down the aisle and making things as official as they could get. Besides, you and Fred already knew you were in it for the long run, so there was no rush whatsoever.

In fact, he was so sure you were the one for him, he wouldn’t have proposed when he did, as it felt like he was repeating himself when he told you he wanted to spend his whole life with you. But the war was getting worse, and he needed you to know he meant it when he said you were the love of his life and he wouldn’t have it any other way. He wanted you to know he meant it when he said he’d fight anyone and anything to get back to you if it came down to it.

“Freddie?” your voice called from the kitchen, and he took off his jacket before making his way to you.

There you were, already in your pajamas -an old pair of pants you had used to wear whenever you had an early quidditch training in school and a t-shirt you had stolen from him ages ago-, your still damp hair leaving a humid patch on the back of your tee. Your back was to the door, focused on preparing the ingredients for dinner. Turning your head now, you smiled at your fiance and his lovesick gaze.

“Hi!” you greeted, clearly happy and a smile broke into his face at the sound of your voice “How was work today?”

“It was good, a bit slow, but good” he replied, walking over you, his arms going around your waist as he dipped down his head to kiss the spot between your neck and shoulder “Kids are already at Hogwarts, so my guess is it should stay that way for another two weeks, maybe. What are you making?”

“Read about a new recipe today, carbonara. Thought we’d give it a try”

“Sounds good to me. Gonna go and take a quick shower now, baby” he added, his hands drawing circles on your stomach “Care to join?”

You laughed, leaning against him and looking up at the redhead boy, before he kissed you softly. “It won’t be a quick shower if I join you, and we’re having pasta tonight. It shouldn’t take too long for the water to boil”

Fred clicked his tongue, disappointed “Later?” he asked, kissing you again.

“Definetly. I love you” you added, and he smiled at you, so adoringly you almost melted between his strong arms.

“I love you too, forever. Can’t wait to live my whole life with you, baby” and after another kiss, he went upstairs.

He was so happy, and so in love with you. You had been the light of his life for ten years now, ever since he met you that first day of school, on your way to Hogwarts. You were always laughing at him or his jokes and pranks, and you were his biggest supporter, always ready to help him or hear him out whenever he was late with an assignment, or when he wasn’t on top of his game at a quidditch match. Eventually, as years went by, you became his biggest source of comfort under the lame excuse of friendship, and it would be normal to find the two of you tangled with each other in the common room, especially after He Who Can’t Be Named came back, your hand always toying with his hair in a way it turned him putty in your hands. Through thick and thin, you had been his rock, and he had been yours.

When George and him left during Umbridge’s reign of terror, your heart broke into a million pieces, and you had to admit to yourself it wasn’t because you’d miss them, which you would, of course, but because the idea of being at Hogwarts without Fred felt outright wrong, and those last months of school were plain torture. Exacerbated, of course, by the actual torture you had endured at the Department of Mysteries.

Fred remembered that morning clearly. He had been woken up by his mother’s scream, which had him appearing downstairs within a second, and he remembered the bile coming up his throat when she told them Ron and Ginny had been involved in a battle, and Sirius Black had been murdered by his own cousin. But nothing prepared him for when George asked who else had gone to the Ministry, and your name came out his mother’s mouth.

“What?!” he asked, his hands leaning against the couch to support his weight “How is she?”

“They’re alright, said Dumbledore, tired, and sore from torture, but they’re alright” she explained “Tonks will have to stay some days at St. Mungo’s, but she’ll be okay soon”

“T– torture?”

George’s hand squeezed his shoulder, in a sign of silent support. He was worried too, for his siblings, for Hermione and Harry, but also for you. You were one of his favorite people, and he knew how much you meant to Fred even if he hadn’t said anything. He knew his twin, and knew his heart skipped a beat whenever he saw you.

“She’ll be alright” he told him.

He knew that. You were tough, and brave, and determined; qualities he never paid much attention to, finding your kindness, patience and charisma more interesting; but he felt as if he had failed you. He had promised you almost a full year ago, the night after Voldemort’s return and Cedric’s murder that he’d keep you safe, and he hadn’t kept his word. You had gone into battle, and you had gotten tortured of all things. He felt sick, the need to take you away from home and keep you from participating anymore in the war being stronger by the second. But you wouldn’t like that. You would want to fight, and he’d be damned if he lost you. He couldn’t.

Molly thought his cry was because of his younger siblings, but George knew better. Sure, Fred was worried about Ron and Ginny, but it was you who had him hyperventilating at the idea of losing you, because the idea of living life without you felt like torture.

Three weeks later, he had found himself at your doorstep, hoping to convince you to stay with them, at least until your parents got back from their holiday in Italy. Or forever. Maybe you felt the same way, maybe you loved him back, maybe you loved him more than you loved any of your friends.

And you did, to no one’s surprise but his.

So, now here he was, fresh out of the shower, in the house the two of you had bought, and as he went downstairs, he found you at the table, with the dinner ready, and his heart skipped a beat once more. Remembering the panic that had nestled in his chest during the war, how many times he had stayed awake at night, not being able to sleep, afraid he’d lose you, afraid they’d take you from him; his arms tense around your body while he prayed he wouldn’t fail you again. And now, the war was finally behind all of you, and you were safe.

“How was the shower?”

“Would’ve been better if you had joined me” he replied, leaning in to kiss the top of her head. You hit him playfully in the arm.

After dinner, he smiled softly at you, and grabbed your hand, stroking the back of it with his thumb. His eyes hadn’t left you at all as you ate, too mesmerized by how beautiful you were, and how happy he was with you, how happy you made him, and the way it felt his heart was way too big for his chest whenever he thought of you.

“I love you” he whispered, not being his bubbly, extroverted self, and you let him speak “I love you so, so much, my sweet girl”

You smiled softly, and held his hand back.

“I love you too, honey. So much. Forever”

Fred got up and took his wand out, letting magic take care of the dishes and pulled you into his embrace.

“Let’s go to bed, love”

[streetlightyeri]

Please please please more stuff for boone

I am, do not fret! I've just been busy with work and with working on my other wips (once I get a scene idea, I have to bring it to life immediately so I don't forget it) that I haven't gotten a chance to finish out my boone fic. I'm more than happy to give a sneak peek though!

my writing process is very ridiculous because I don't write in order, but rather patch scenes together, so thats why a lot of my snippet posts are me posting large, plot-important scenes, simply because that might be all that's written. (ie, my Scott post being the scene where he's searching for her. I have the final two scenes written and that one, so that fic is missing the entire beginning and middle third of it lol). that's not the case for this snippet though, this is very much not important to the plot at all, just a moment at the bar.

but this boone fic is giving me a lot of trouble, writing wise. :( part of me just wants to scrap it because it feels so cheesy and wattpad-y. but I did post about nine ball by Zach Bryan last week, so I guess I'll share that scene at the very least, even if everything else gets scrapped. fair warning, this is one of the scenes that I think feels the most wattpad like, so if you cringe easily (like me, I absolutely cannot handle secondhand embarrassment), this might not be the one for you lol.

for reference, "mafia" is Boone (and I guess the rest of the Wrangler's nickname for Rowan, since she always wears sunglasses and a mask). as always, wip posts are unproofread and subject to change <3

"go bet another six pack, bet i make a comeback; i know that this table's got a lean."

“Mafia! Come play a round!” 

Kate and Rowan turned, eyes flitting across the bar to find the owner of the voice. Boone was leaning against the back wall, a pool stick twisting gently in his hand. He moved to point at her once she saw him. She still had her mask and sunglasses on, paying little attention to the people who gave her odd looks. She was used to worse.

Kate made a cutting motion near her neck, silently telling them no.

Tyler called out next, “Come on City Girl! We’ll go easy on y’all!”

Rowan snorted under her mask, but the bar was far too loud for anyone to hear it besides Kate. The blonde hid her smirk in her drink. “We don’t play.”

“One round! Losers buy the winning group’s drinks.”

Kate was about to decline again, but Rowan knocked her arm with her elbow and tossed her head in their direction. She lowered her voice, “Are you sure?”

Rowan nodded. A devious glint danced in Kate’s eyes. A few chasers from other groups shouted out as the two crossed the bar; the StormPar group seemed to be putting their heads together about whether they should leave now or hold out hope for free drinks. Rowan took the pool stick in Boone’s outstretched hand while Kate took Tyler’s. Rowan placed her drink down on the edge of the pool table despite Boone offering to hold it, the coaster she snatched from the bar sitting on top as she chalked the tip. “What’s the rules?”

“No house rules, just the basics. Whoever gets the 8 ball in after clearing their designated group wins.” Boone took a sip of his beer.

Javi jogged up to the pool table, immediately recognizing what was happening. “Come on guys, let’s make it fair. Even if someone gets a ball in the pocket, the turn still ends. That way no one can clear the table without a fair chance.”

Tyler and Boone agreed. Rowan reached out to Javi, asking for her wallet. She pulled out a hundred, placing it in the jar next to the pool table that had “BETS” written on it in Sharpie. Tyler, Boone, and Kate did the same. “Whoever wins keeps their money and uses the loser’s to buy drinks. Sounds good?

Kate and Rowan nodded, the latter reaching up to remove her sunglasses. She parked them on the brim of her hat, not moving her eyes from Boone’s. He blinked hard, his mouth dropping open for a second before Dani clamped her hands on his shoulders as she laughed about what drink she’d be getting, snapping him out of the trance he was in from seeing her eyes for the first time. He bounced back to reality as Kate finished chalking her own stick, blowing off the excess dust. Both girls moved in to each other, their brains seeming to work as one, scanning over the table.

Tyler set his jaw and swallowed hard. “Ready, ladies?”

“As we’ll ever be.” Kate forced an uneasy smile and Rowan gave an innocent thumbs-up.

Kate broke, sending the ball to the side of the front 8-ball. A few laughs rang out amongst the crowd that gathered. The game went on like that, each team switching. Rowan and Kate got no more than 3 balls in, scratching each time. Each time Tyler and Boone got a ball in, the two girls put on their best disappointed expression. Even though the two tried to go easy on them, it was only a matter of time before Boone sank the 8-ball.

They gave sarcastic bows to the audience that clapped before turning their attention to the two women on the other side of the table. Rowan still had her mask on, hiding enough of her face in the dimly lit room.

Kate pouted, rubbing her thumb back and forth on the corner of the table. “That was fun. How about another round? Winner takes all?”

The crowd around them cheered, each member of the Tornado Wranglers adding money to the betting pool, expecting to collect it in a few minutes. But Javi must’ve clued in the StormPar group, as they also added bills to the jar.

Tyler tried to give them an out, “You sure, ladies? We can call this off.”

Both girls shook their heads eagerly, Rowan continuing the show, hanging onto her pool stick, “Come on, one more round! What do you have to lose?”

The two men agreed, Boone reracking the balls quickly. “At least let us show you how to shoot.”

“No thanks, it’s more fun this way. Winner should break.”

Since Boone made the winning shot, he made the first shot. When he lifted his head again, a huge grin on his face as the triangle of balls exploded across the table, he saw Javi standing there, arms around each girl’s shoulders, a huge smile plastered across each of their faces. He could tell Rowan had one too by the crinkle at the corners of her eyes. “Ben, I think you should get your camera ready. This is what we in America call ‘a hustle’.”

Shot after shot, turn after turn, Kate and Rowan sank a ball. No matter how many times Boone and Tyler tried, they were unable to catch up. Not a single turn went without them sinking a ball. When nothing remained on their side but the 8-ball, Dexter spoke up, breaking the tense air of the entire bar. “Call the pocket.”

The StormPar group let out protests, claiming that it wasn’t in the rules for the last game, but Rowan just shrugged. “Okay. That one.”

She pointed towards the middle pocket. Dexter narrowed his eyes as he scanned the table. “No matter what angle you hit from, there’s no way you’d make it in there.”

Kate rested her weight on one palm that was angled against the table. “Not normally, but this table’s tilted.”

Boone searched for anything that would’ve told the two that information. There were no rocking legs or rolling balls. Then his eyes landed on the glass she refused to hand him earlier, sitting on the edge, the liquid in it just barely slanted. “We’ve been outsmarted, T.”

“You know, I think you're right, Boone.”

Rowan sank the ball in the pocket she called. StormPar cheered, as well as the few other random bar goers that gathered to watch. Rowan and Kate mock bowed for Ben’s camera before retrieving the money left over after Javi and the StormPar members took back theirs as well as an extra hundred to pay for the drinks they were about to ring in. Kate took the stack, counting the money in front of the Wranglers before stacking it all together and handing it out to them.

Tyler looked at it quizzically. Kate shook the stack of money again, silently telling him to grab it. “We don’t need it. Keep it.”

“Y’all won it.”

Rowan laughed, as she turned back to the group after returning the balls and pool sticks to their rightful places. “We hustled you. Take your money back. Drinks are on me. Javi took my hundred up to the bar. Get what y’all want.”

Reluctantly, Tyler took the money and distributed it all back amongst his group as the girls returned to their room for the night.

[lolasimms]

a lots gonna change pt.8

Summary: Married life isn’t great, infidelity ensues, and things change.

next part

I need to know if we’re team Abby or Ellie?

"Hi, this is Y/n...leave a message"

30

She had called your phone at least 30 times in the past 3 hours. She was sorry, she was scared and she just wanted her family back. The house felt hollow, the sound of laughter had died, the light had dissipated and along with it, the happiness had gone. She had gotten multiple voicemails from Paige and Vic asking what had happened, but she didn't have the energy to re-live it, to retell it. It hurt her so much to see the look on your face, the tears in your eyes, your urgency to leave the house and get away from her. But she knew if it was this bad for her, how much worse was it for you?

-

"Come here, oh my god, come here"

Dina pulls you into a tight hug, as she cries with you. She had instructed Jesse to take Lila upstairs to play with Jj, as she knew you wouldn't have wanted your daughter to see you in such a state. A state of vulnerability and heartache, as you mourned the end of your relationship. You told her everything, from their hotel meetups, office hookups, the lies, all of it. Dina was left bewildered by it all, she honestly looked like she could kill Ellie herself.

"I'm so scared Dina, I- what's going to happen to us, to Lila?"

You frantically ask, as you continue to sob into the poor woman's shirt, she however didn't mind as she held you tightly against her and soothingly rubbed your back. Without her reassurance and comfort you weren't sure you would've been able to cope.

"Don't worry about that right now, Lila's okay. Right now you need to think about yourself Y/n."

Her words are stern and you look up to glance at her eyes. She's dead serious , but you can't help but object. "Dina , I cant, it's selfish an-" You're cut off when she begins to shake her head and interrupts your rebuttal.

"It's not selfish at all, you love her and she broke your heart, you need time to reflect and think about the decisions you are going to have to make Y/n. Think about Lila, whatever you decide in the next coming weeks will impact her"

You sniffle lowly, evaluating her wise words. Deep down, you knew what she meant, what she was insinuating when she talked about the "decisions" you would have to make in the coming weeks. An allusion to the inevitable custody discussions you and Ellie were bound to have in the event that you went through with a separation.

"I just can't Dina,  it hurts so bad,why wasn't I enough?"

You sob, another case of tears spring free, the lump in your throat beginning to feel like a clump of granite that was scratching against the surface of your oesophagus. You weren't even sure how the tears still came in, deep down it felt as though there were no more tears you could possibly shed. Yet every time you pictured the intimate photos, text messages and logs of calls between your wife and that woman, your heart broke a little more.

"You are enough, she was just too selfish to see that, you deserve so much better" Dina's only resort Is to console you, as she knows nothing else will work. The two of you sit in the small nook by the window in a warm embrace, you are interrupted by Jesse who tentatively enters from the corner with a soft knock.

"Y/n, you've got a call" he says lowly, strings  of sympathy can be detected from his voice, and you lift yourself from Dina's chest to thank him and accept the phone from him. The contact reads Joel, and your heart once again shatters, the thought of having to explain it to the only other father figure, aside from your own that you ever had. You excuse yourself to Dina and Jesses brightly lit up alfresco to take your phone call.

"Hello?" You say, trying your best to abstain from breaking out into a rough sob.

"Honey, what happened, are you okay, where are you and Lila?" He asks urgently, his voice sounds as though he too had been crying.

"We're okay, I'm at Dina's, did you talk to her?" You ask, voice just above a whisper.

"I did, she's such a fool, I cant believe she would do such a thing, Y/n I truly can't express how sorry I am" his tone is strong, seemingly angered by the thoughts of Ellie's infidelity.

"You don't have to apologise, this isn't your doing" you clutch the phone tighter, in an attempt to be closer to him, he clears his throat, and you can here the hesitance in his voice when he asks you "Are you... are you going to take her away from us?" Your already broken heart, breaks just a little bit more and you earnestly shake your head, as if he were here with you.

"No, of course not Joel, I would never do that to you, Lila loves you... and her"

"Why don't the both of you come stay with me for now?"

—

"Y/n, Dina and I are more than happy to have you and Lila stay here if you need, we're always here for you" Jesse says as he hands a sleeping, Lila to you. Dina nods as JJ lay's awake in her arms, the two of them walking you to the door.

"Thank you so much, the both of you. I think we'll stay at Joel's for a while, just until we figure everything out" They nod and you wave them good bye as you slowly place the sleeping child into her booster seat.

The drive to Joel's is quiet, the soft snores of your daughter lull you into relaxation, this car ride being the most tranquil part of the last 24 hours. Once you arrive at Joel's he's out the door and immediately holding on to you while muttering "sorry"

You hated that he thought any of this was his fault, even worse that he thought you would in any way blame him for Ellie's actions. The room he had given you was simple, yet effective. It housed a queen sized bed, just enough to fit you and Lila, a desk, a chair, a lamp and a wall littered in floral wallpaper. It wasn't anything like your home, but you were more than thankful that both you and your daughter were being taken care of. After settling the still sleeping toddler into bed, you decided you were due a long hot shower.

-

The white shirt that she'd been wearing was stained, mainly from her tears and a few lone drips of whiskey that had dribbled down her chin. She was splayed out on the floor of her daughters now empty nursery, a half empty bottle of Jack Daniels sat besides her. Her hair had fallen out of her neat ponytail and her head was throbbing with a migraine.

Ellie had decided to call Joel again, after having him give her the nastiest talking to she could remember since she was a teen just a few hours earlier.He begrudgingly answered, informing her that her daughter and y/n were staying with him temporarily. She couldn't help but feel a weight being lifted off her shoulders. She would've much preferred that the two of you return home to her but she knew you needed time. Being with Joel was much better than being somewhere where she couldn't reach you at all.

She took the time away from you to reflect, to really think about what she had done. But more importantly she reflected on what was to come from her infidelity. She didn't know if you were done with this relationship, she hoped you weren't, but alas even she couldn't forgive herself. So how could you?She contemplated on calling Amelia, asking her to come over, but she realised that it was a stupid idea. She hated her, she had ruined everything and taken away the two people she loved most. Ellie wanted answers, she needed to know if you would stay with her, she needed you to stay with her.

-

The glass enclosing the shower was covered in steam, the hot water cascaded down your body, as you let your tears flow down freely. You let your mind go blank for just a few seconds, trying your best to forget about everything that was going on in your life, even if it was only just for a second. You were brought back to reality when the water began to turn cold. You quickly pushed the tap closed and grabbed the towel that Joel had so graciously given you. Wrapping yourself into its warmth and glancing at the mirror that was now coated in condensation. You looked a mess, you eyes were red and your face puffy from all the crying, you promised yourself you'd get some sleep tonight.

You made your way back into the bedroom and caught a glimpse of your baby's sleeping form. So innocent and pure, you felt sick knowing you would have to make a decision that could possibly negatively impact her. You wondered how Ellie did it for those whole 5 months, how she managed to sleep at night knowing she was betraying this innocent child. Slowly you lifted the comforter as to not wake up Lila and made your way into bed. You tried to sleep but the images of Amelia and Ellie kept popping up into your brain. The ones where she had her head on Ellie's chest as she peacefully slept, the ones where she stood half-naked in the mirror as she held her from behind and the photos of the extensive gifts she had gotten her. You wanted to erase your memories, you wished that you could wake up to find that all of this was just a bad dream. That the woman you loved hadn't broken her vows. You placed your headphones in your ears, your last resort being music, and wrapped your arm protectively over your daughter as you slowly managed to drift off to sleep, the lyrics of each song fading, the closer you got to sleep.

-

You called in sick on Monday and Tuesday while ignoring the extensive texts from Ellie. She called you at-least 4 times a day, texted you endlessly, she even tried coming over to Joel's but he very strictly warned her that as long as you weren't comfortable with it, he couldn't let her in. You had informed your sister and mother begrudgingly, thanks to Joel's insistence.

They were livid, which was to be expected and your sister had already booked a ticket to come and see you. All in all it was hardest on you to see the way your daughter was coping, just four days without Ellie and she would ask non-stop about her. She was snappy and refused to let you get anything done, it didn't help that all you wanted to do was sit in your bed and cry. You were lucky enough to have a friend like Dina, who had insisted to have Lila over for a few days at hers, to give you time to cry it out and think.

-

You wore a pair of dark sunglasses, an oversized deftones hoodie that had belonged to Ellie and a pair of sweatpants that didn't fit you right. The hood was pulled over to cover your wild curls that you hadn't dealt with in days. You looked a mess and honestly didn't care who did or didn't see you, as you pushed a cart around the supermarket.

"Y/n? A voice calls out to you as you're browsing the produce section. You silently groan and turn to make out the voice coming from behind you. When you come face to face with Abby who's carrying a crate of San Pellegrino sparkling water.

-

"Ellie?" Her name being called out and the rough knocks at the door startled her as she jumped off the couch. She couldn't bear sleeping in your shared room without you, so she had taken residency in the living room for the past four days. No matter how hard she had tried to get in contact with you, nothing worked. Not to mention the fact that Joel wouldn't let her see you. She understood she needed to respect your boundaries but she was growing tired.

As she made her way to the front door a part of her hoped it was you who was out there. Holding your daughter in your arms and ready to come back home and be a family again. To her dismay when she opened the door she was met with Satan herself.

"Ellie, I missed you" Amelia says as she flings her arms around Ellie's neck and attempts to kiss her.

Ellie firmly removes Amelia from her and steps away. The blonde is seemingly confused by Ellie's actions and immediately goes red with rage.

"You can't be here right now Amelia, please for your own good, leave." Ellie's arms are crossed in defence, she would no longer tolerate the crazinesses. She had lost too much from this affair and couldn't bare the thought of you coming back to see her here.

"What do you mean I can't be here right now?" Amelia growls as she steps closer to the door, she's now inches away from Ellie and seething.

"This is our home now, we're meant to be together, we love each other" she's now tightly holding onto Ellie's shoulders, her acrylic nails digging so deep that they would surely leave marks.

"No we're not, you told Y/n fair enough. But I don't plan on letting her go that easily. I apologise for how I treated you Amelia okay? But we just can't be together" Ellie removes her hands once more and attempts to close the door.

"Your apology means nothing to me, you don't understand the mistake you're making" with that she turns and angrily stomps towards her car that was parked further down the street. Ellie shakes her head in disbelief and heads back into the house.

-

I hadn't seen you at work for two days, I was worried" Abby says as she helps you load your groceries into your car. You shut the trunk and make your way over to grab the trolley. You push it back to the trolley station and she follows behind you.

"Yeah well, I'm sick" you lie as you firmly return the trolley and then walk back to your car.

"You don't look sick" she removes your sunglasses and you groan in annoyance.

"What the fuck was that for?" You turn to look at her as she searches your face.

"Have you been crying?" She holds your face in her hands and you pull away before she can jump to any conclusions.

"No, just mind your business" you try reaching for your car door but she's opened it for you, standing in between it to prevent you from shutting it closed.

"You know aside from all the petty shit between Ellie and I, I actually care about you Y/n" for the first time her tone sounds sincere and you don't sense any hints of malice.

"Ellie had an affair, happy?" You blurt out and look away, not wanting to see the sympathetic look she would give you. It would just make you feel pathetic.

"You're joking right?"

"Why would I joke about that?" You sigh, as you grab your sunglasses from her hands and place them back on. You could feel another round of tears coming in.

"How long?" She asks tentatively, trying to gauge your reaction.

"5 months" you reply meekly.

"Y/n, I don't know how anyone could cheat on you, honestly she doesn't deserve you-" you cut her off, not wanting to hear anymore of it.

"And you do?"

"What?" She sounds shocked at your quip.

"You said she doesn't deserve me, I bet you think you do"

"As a matter of fact yes, I think I do. Because I wouldn't put you through that shit. I wouldn't take you for granted."

"Abby, it's too soon for all of this, just please give me space okay?" She nods and you buckle yourself in. She remains stood in the same spot and watches as you drive away.

-

"Ellie?" You question as your grip tightens on your phone. You await a response but all you hear is rustling coming from the background.

"Baby? Hi" Her voice is raspy, it's as if she hadn't used it in days.

"I think we should talk" you say as you fidget with you car keys. Your eyes focused on the charms of the keychain as you swung them around.

"Yeah me too, what do you want to talk about?" Her voice slightly perks up and you feel your throat constrict as the next worlds leave your mouth.

"I think we should seperate"

taglist;

@moonlightdivine @maybe-cece @macaroni676 @sawaagyapong @katiemars @ellieseater @dakota-dream @joliettes @hebrokeimup @bratydoll @wakasaaa @catostrophiclesbian @l0v3e1i

[pokemonlolitaproject]

is there anything we can do to help? you said sickness so maybe we could donate money so you can get good medicine?

You are so kind to be worried and to want to help, but I am in a very fortunate position to have good insurance so please don't worry about me funding wise.

Warning: If you don't want to be privy to certain less fun aspects of my personal life please stop at the end of this paragraph. I understand fun blogs like mine are often used for escapism/joy and I have no issue with anyone who wants to keep more serious topics out of their Pokemon fashion fun time.

~I repeat YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED~

To be completely honest my issue is a series of chronic health problems that I have suffered with for years that have become more debilitating with time. I have chronic migraines (for which I have tried many fruitless medications, expensive procedures, and herbal remedies) and never don't have a headache anymore. In addition to that I have a nebulous and loosely diagnosed stomach issue (that I will hopefully have figured out soon after a few new tests) that makes it hard to consistantly keep down food. Between these two issues, depression, and anxiety, I often need extra rest when I get more severe flare ups (which I've been having this week) and find it hard to focus on the blog.

So while this does leave me unable to work; my husband is paid well and I am very fortunate to live some degree of the life that boomers pretend is capable for everyone in my generation. And while tips are appreciated they are by no means needed and we are financially secure.

The other main issue is a family friend is on their death bed, and as he requested my husband and I will be hosting the wake at our home when he passes. This is unsurprisingly taking up a lot of my brain space; so I am trying to fill the rest of what isn't already being taken up by stress, depression, and sickness with family and relaxing rather than the blog (which while I love it makes me anxious when I feel I'm not putting requests out fast enough).

TL;DR: My situation will not get worse or better from more money so please don't feel obligated or pressured to provide monetary support (fanart to cheer me up on the other hand is always appreciated though don't feel obliged to do that either). I am earnestly just grateful to have kind and supportive followers who are willing to stay with me even if I can't post every day like I'd like to.

[honeylashofficial]

Like Embers | an Imp and Skizz Oneshot

Firewatch AU - original story by @quaranmine

Skizz Week Prompt #2: Hybrid / AU (@skizzlemanweek)

Fire and friendship are not as incomparable as one may think. It's insistent, it's beautiful, and it marks you for life, whether you care to acknowledge it or not. In the way that unconditional love leaves scorch-marks across ones heart; like how embers remain, rekindle, and remind us of the raw power we possess between our very own fingertips. When wielded wisely, nothing compares.

Hurt / comfort, fluff, more fluff, unspecified injury (but no blood :D)

–+– 3,228 words –+–

November 14th, 1989

“Come on, we could totally make it happen.”

“Seriously, I’m telling you. It will not work.”

“You worried about the equipment?”

“Yes!”

“You’re just no fun.” Skizz paused in the dust, taking his time to lean backwards in a satisfying stretch. He sighed contentedly as the base of his spine popped, loosening again. His keychain of keys jangled in his hoodie pocket.

Beside him, Impulse released his own sigh, shaking his head in finality. “It’s not like they’ll want the footage anyways. There’s gonna be way too much background noise. You’d barely even hear us.”

“What if that’s the intrigue though,” Skizz pointed out, walking onward once more. “The Imp and Skizz radio segment, Forest Edition! I think I’m really on to something here.”

“I think you’re on something,” Impulse muttered, matching him step for step.

“Never. Tis simply my nature to explore the world on a more finite level,” Skizz defended himself curtly, dramatic English accent and all.

The forest crowded in on all sides of their path, silently encouraging them to hush and enjoy the nature around them. But being quiet was something neither of the two men had ever been good at, even from young ages. And it only got worse when they were in the same room. Or, in this case, in the same forest. It was a brisk late morning up in the mountains as they followed a well-trodden path towards a supposed lake. They hadn’t caught sight of it quite yet, but they’d been informed by a ranger a day ago that this was the perfect time to go and see it. Admittedly, Impulse was not nearly as enthralled about this whole hiking business as Skizz was. They were doing it together though, and Skizz had also promised to cook meals for the next two weeks once they got back to the duplex. His skills with a pan had finally convinced Impulse to agree on the weekend trip.

“Alright Shakespeare. Then maybe you could finally explore Dead Poet Society so we can get that out of the way?”

Skizz made a face at the comment, wrinkling up his nose in disgust. “They still want us to do that?”

“It’s extremely popular with the kiddies, says the studio,” Impulse shrugged.

Skizz shot him a look.

“Okay, fine,” Impulse hunched slightly, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “I really want to do it still. Did you at least read some of the book?”

“No,” Skizz shook his head. A fraction of guilt poked at his innards upon the look his friend returned. He sidestepped a fallen branch on the path before putting his own hands in his hoodie pocket. “I told you already. I don’t read.”

“You’re missing out, man,” Impulse insisted quietly.

“What if I just go watch it and say I did?” Skizz countered smartly. Even as he said it, he knew what the response would be.

“No,” Impulse declared shortly. “I would know.”

Skizz smirked, grinning at him the way only he was allowed to. “Because?” He prodded annoyingly.

Impulse glared despite no heat radiating from the look. He pursed his lips, refusing to say it.

“Say it!” Skizz encouraged. There was a taunt in his voice, but it was a part of a language only they spoke. It was an undertone only distinguishable over years and years of growing familiar with one another. And it frequently rolled off both of their tongues in a familial way. Neither of them knew what they would do if that sweet playful banter were to cease.

Impulse averted his gaze, refusing to satisfy Skizz. It was a joke at this point, and one that Impulse played often. It never got old though, and Skizz never grew tired of it. If anything, he’d only gotten more persistent over the years.

“Say it!”

“Because you’re my best friend.”

“Now that’s what I like to- woah!”

The solid terrain disappeared from under Skizz’s feet. His eyes darted back to the path ahead, only to find that he’d misjudged it entirely. The path turned sharply, leading way to steep forest hills and rocky shelves. He gasped as he found no form of grip beneath his body, sinking into the angle and getting tossed head over heels. The world spun dizzyingly out of control as his weight was thrown into the ground over and over again. Blurry smears of color skidded past him before with a jolt, everything stopped at once.

There were stars at the edge of Skizz’s vision. He blinked slowly, trying to bring them into focus. There were parts of his body that ached and some parts that he couldn’t feel at all. If he concentrated really hard, he could manage to hear something beyond the ringing that filled his ears. Impulse was shouting his name distantly. How far down had he fallen? Should he get up, or wait for his buddy?

A minute or so later, his ears began to settle again. The sounds of trees and wind welcomed him back, and the fog in his head lifted just a tad. He needed to get up. He needed to get back to Impulse —get back to the designated path. But something heavy was laying on top of him… He lifted his head to see what it was, but nothing greeted his gaze.

“Skizz! Stupid bra- Skizz! Where are you?”

The voice was getting louder. Skizz could hear his friend pushing recklessly through the underbrush. There was sliding and skidding mixed with half hearted curses before another holler split the air. His tone was unmasked; betraying exactly what he felt. And a part of Skizz couldn’t help but find it endearing.

“I’m here,” he responded, pulling his elbows underneath him in order to push upward. As soon as he did though, a bolt of lightning rocketed through his backside. He just barely composed his tongue, dropping into the dirt again and holding back a pained yelp. Teeth gritted, he muttered furiously under his breath. “Great. Just great.”

Impulse appeared a moment later, his cheeks bright red with windburn. He took deep gulps of air as if he’d been the one rolled down a hill. Upon catching sight of Skizz, he ran forward to crouch down at his side. “You okay?” He wheezed.

“No, I don’t think so,” Skizz admitted, trying not to think about all the things that could currently be wrong with his backside. Pain had bloomed about three quarters of the way down his spine, threatening with another burst if he moved the wrong way. “I think something happened to my back.”

“Uh, Skizz? If you haven’t noticed, something definitely happened,” Impulse slowly slid his backpack from his shoulders. “You fell down a hill for goodness sake. Thank God for this tree here.”

Skizz grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut. “That’s probably what got me.” He didn’t know what to do now. He was stuck, lying here on his stomach with who knew how serious of an injury. Not to mention, they had to be at least 30 feet from the trail with no guide to point them in the right direction. Why had they even come out here? Why didn’t he just stay put like Impulse had encouraged him to during their precious days off?

“Do you wanna sit up at least, or… how bad is it?” Impulse leaned over, trying to make eye contact at this awkward angle. “Do I need to call for help?”

“No, no,” Skizz raised his head, albeit slowly, so as not to disturb the muscles along his spine. “Gimme a minute or two. It might just be shock.”

“You went down pretty hard,” Impulse murmured before attempting to add more lightly, “And I refuse to carry you bridal style anywhere, just so we’re on the same page.”

An involuntary smile crawled onto Skizz’s face. “Aw… and here I thought Dipple-dop was my knight in shining armor.”

Impulse blew a raspberry, rolling his eyes as he sat heavily in the leaf litter. “I’m just one guy, Skizz. A guy that’s trying to keep you alive-“

Skizz flinched. He didn’t know whether it was because of the statement or the pain.

“-and I just feel pretty terrible at my job right now. So what do you need? Water? Pain meds..? I think I have one or two of something somewhere.”

Skizz knew Impulse. He was in need of a task. Something to keep him preoccupied while the situation outcome was unknown. He was outwardly scared on Skizz’s behalf. And Skizz simply couldn’t ask for a greater friend. “Water sounds great right about now.”

Impulse nodded, opening his bag and digging around inside. After a moment, he brought out a clear bottle, handing it over. Only then did Skizz realize that his hands were trembling with nerves.

“Buddy,” he began, taking the water and unscrewing the cap. “You gotta relax. I’m not dying.”

“I- I know that,” Impulse retorted, looking away. Skizz sighed faintly.

“Look at me.”

Dark brown eyes sheepishly met his.

“What do I always say?”

Impulse groaned, gaze sliding past his ear.

“There are times when you can play it safe, and there are times to be reckless.”

“What are you getting at, Skizz?”

“Look at me?”

Impulse’s gaze returned, slightly harder this time. “What?”

“There’s a third option. It’s not an option though. It’s happenstance. And we just happened to run into it today, alright?”

Confusion swam behind Impulse’s eyes, but it was obvious his patience on the matter had run raggedly thin. He scowled at Skizz. “Would you just tell me what needs to happen man? I don’t need your cryptic-“

“Alright, alright,” Skizz lifted a hand, patting the air calmly. “Just…” He let out a slow breath, hoping that it would negate the throbbing pain somehow. “Just give me another minute or so. I’ll see if I can get up then.”

It still felt as if a heavy object had weighed Skizz’s lower backside to the ground. He couldn’t help but wonder why that was. His legs tingled faintly, weak, and he could tell his jeans had holes in them now. What would his girlfriend think when he returned home with a newly ruined article of clothing? If he returned at all.

Now there was a grim sentence. But Skizz was a realist. And the genuine logical reality of all this was that he’d probably bruised a bone or two and was overreacting completely.

His spine didn’t get the memo.

Shooting pain rushed up and down his muscles, nearly making him sick as he strained himself. His arms shook before giving way, and he just barely had time to clamp his jaw shut, so as to dampen the landing as much as possible. It wasn’t without his mind spewing a line of vial phrases though.

“This really isn’t looking good, Skizz,” Impulse shuffled forward. “You okay?”

“No, it’s not. And yes,” Skizz replied curtly. He gritted his teeth, trying again to bring his palms beneath him. After a moment, Impulse stretched out a tentative hand, placing it on his shoulder.

“Maybe… a few more minutes..?”

They were speaking that familiar language again. The one that said a thousand words, but only required the minimum. The one that they’d learned to interpret through studying the other. Impulse’s hand spoke volumes. Feeling the brush of fingertips against Skizz’s body sent a shiver down his already pained backside.

“Okay.”

Twenty minutes later, Impulse radioed the emergency frequency.

–+–

“Maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea.”

“Huh?” Skizz opened his eyes, tipping his head backwards from where he was now laying on his back, wrapped in his sleeping bag. The crackle of the fire near his head filled the silent night air.

“The forest segment,” Impulse explained, hugging himself tighter in his thin cotton jacket. It was colder tonight than it had been the night before. And many of the stars were hidden through the dead leaves still on the trees. They would be falling soon, no doubt, littering the forest floor in a blanket of its own. The two of them were now regretting not having packed more properly for emergencies. Hindsight was constantly and annoyingly 20-20.

“You’re not just feelin’ sorry for me now are you?” Skizz chided jokingly. He was comfortable making light of the current situation. He was okay with mentally removing himself from this harsh reality. He was just tired and sore from the day. That was all. So they’d camped early. “I would hate to be scoring pity points, you know.”

Impulse was silent for a while. The low fire casted heavy shadows across his face. “…no. Genuinely. Now that I’ve been listening, it’s kinda… nice out here.”

Skizz smiled. “See? I told ya. And if they really like it, maybe they can send us other places, like the ocean. That could be cool, you think?”

“You mean..?” Impulse raised his head shyly.

“We could travel the world,” Skizz nodded eagerly. “Just like we always wanted to.

“You’re crazy.”

“I choose to take that as a compliment.”

“Well you shouldn’t.”

The momentary excitement dwindled. A tired sigh played on Skizz’s lips, and his smile faded, replaced with disheartenment. Pain still riddled his body, more prominent in places he hadn’t noticed before. But it was his heart that bled openly. It bled and it wept. Because despite his calm and collected face, a part of him really was scared. Fear twisted in his gut, unkind with its iron grip and sickening anxiety. He was infinitely better at hiding emotions than Impulse was. Now was no exception. But seeing his best friend so torn up about all this wasn’t exactly making it easy. There was pain, yes. But Skizz personally chose to stash it away. The two of them had always differed in their preferred coping mechanisms. Skizz believed that faking it till you made it was the answer to all problems. Impulse had a much softer approach. It did make his temper less stable, but if that was the only thing Skizz had to worry about when it came to this, then he’d still take it any day.

“I’m not dying, buddy,” he reminded his friend softly.

“You’re so lucky it wasn’t your head…”

“True. But seeing as it wasn’t, you can relax now.”

“Skizz…” Impulse found him in the firelight. “I don’t think you get it.”

Smoke curled into a perfectly still evening.

A pause followed. Skizz grew uncomfortable at it, as he swallowed nervously and filled the emptiness with, “Pitch it to me then.”

Impulse sniffled, and if it weren’t so dark, perhaps his watery eyes would be acknowledged. But the light of the low fire was too weak for that.

“What would I have done if it was your head? What am I supposed to do now? I don’t know CPR, or how to set a bone. I wasn’t ready for all this. And you’re acting like it’s nothing. But it’s not nothing. It’s an emergency. You’re in God knows how much pain and refuse to take the stupid tablets-“

“Impulse. The mountain rescue people are coming. They will find us, and I will be okay.”

“You don’t know that!”

“What did I tell you?” Skizz snapped, his tone dipping sharply.

“You say a lot of things, Skizz,” Impulse retorted.

“Happenstance,” Skizz glared through the dark, brows drawn together in seriousness. “You cannot plan for everything. This was never in your control.”

Sparks drifted from the pit of embers. They danced on the air, winking out of existence as if they'd never been there in the first place. And tree branches rattled above their heads, scraping against one another in an eerie disconsonant symphony. Earthy smells overpowered the fire despite being so close to its heat.

“You quoted Dead Poet Society earlier. You know that right?” Impulse asked. He twirled a small twig between his fingers absently —another coping mechanism. “There’s a similar saying in the movie. Something like ‘there’s a time for being daring and a time to be careful, and a wise man understands what is called for’.”

“Huh…” Skizz blinked, his vision blurring slightly.

“I’ll be the first to admit on both of our behalfs that we aren’t exactly wise,” Impulse broke the twig in half, tossing its pieces on the fire. “We’re not stupid either though. The jokes kinda made me.. feel stupid.”

“Okay.”

Skizz loved to make people laugh. He always had. That was why he broadcasted his voice across the county Monday through Friday, for hours on end. To bring people a little ounce of joy throughout their stress filled days and weary nights. And he got to do it alongside his best friend at that. But even more than laughter, Skizz strived to provide comfort. There could only be real laughter once comfort was established. And tonight, it was as if he was seeing Impulse for the very first time. Because in a way, he was. Impulse was in a state unfamiliar to him. And he’d been trying to push the wrong buttons all in the wrong order. So his gaze softened, relaxing as best he could despite his pain.

“Okay, Dipple-dop. No more jokes tonight.”

Impulse nodded, as if to reassure himself as well. “I just really don’t like happenstance, as you call it.”

“I know,” Skizz murmured. “I don’t like it either. I should have said that from the beginning.”

“It’s still pretty impressive how close your quote was though.”

Skizz chuckled. “If I had known that, I’d have kept my mouth shut.”

“To keep me from talking about it?” Impulse rolled his eyes, shoulders relaxing a little. “Actually, since you aren’t going anywhere, I can just tell you what happens.”

“Does this mean I won’t have to read the book.”

“Maybe. It depends on how well I remember everything.”

“Oh shut up, you remember everything!”

“Apparently everything except a first aid kit,” Impulse pointed out. “I know the first thing I’ll be doing once we get back home.”

“I think I should be the one making that purchase,” Skizz argued. “I was the one who fell down the hill, remember?”

“I suppose you are more accident prone.”

“Don’t remind me.”

“You know I could.”

“Just tell me about the book already. We’ll worry about this later.”

“Just as soon as you say it.”

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

“Say it.”

“You really are the worst, aren’t you.”

For the first time in hours, Impulse finally smiled. Its brilliance washed over Skizz in a warm wave, providing more heat than the fires embers ever could. He cherished this very moment in time, because despite how he’d been acting, this wasn’t going to be anything easy to get over. He had no clue whether the injury had repercussions or a long recovery time in store for him. But Impulse’s smile made everything better somehow. It glowed like the pale moon above them, twinkling like stars, infinite like space itself.

Skizz wondered how a man such as himself would go about gaining such depths —such wisdom. And then he remembered what Impulse had said.

‘There’s a time for daring, and a time for caution, and a wise man understands which is called for.’

And perhaps he would read that book when they returned home.

Maybe then he could gain a little bit of wisdom himself.

–+– The End –+–