#exam season is REALLY kicking my shins in

[isatswap]

im working on the wishes dialogue i promise have some sillies for now

[retiredteabag]

What Happened To You?

Pairing: Kirishima x reader

Genre: angst with fluff :)

Word count: ...

Synopsis: You were a very positive girl, but when you have one of the hardest weeks ever and break down, who will be there to comfort you?

——————————————————————————

This week was so great, perfect justttttt perfect. <— that was sarcasm, it was most definitely not perfect. :(

Y/n was a very positive girl, not only for others but also herself, if she was struggling she would focus on the good. She would constantly go to bed and try to clear her mind, de-stress and not talk to others about negative stuff because she knew it would bring her down and make others worry. She would wake up everyday with the idea that no matter how busy she was, she could make the day great.

This week was no different, but as you know, time carries on, stress builds, it can wear a person down. Exams were coming up, y/n’s family had been really busy and although y/n loved her family she just couldn’t talk to them right now. All of her clothes looked weird these days, thank goodness UA had a uniform. Her classmates seemed so cheerful, she didn’t want to ruin that, so she carried on.

She would run everyday, it became a routine and it helped her cool off, today was just like other days. She tied her shoe laces, pulled up her hair, stretched a bit, and got on her way. She usually went the same route and she knew her way well.

She was running when she lost her footing. Ouch, what the heckkk, that never happens. She had twisted her ankle, she could tell, not from the pain but from the grossly worrying ✨crunch✨ she winced, couldn’t even feel the pain yet but she had fallen too. As she tumbled down the hill the earphones in her ears were ripped out, covering her head she came to a stop.

A large sigh escaped her mouth. ‘It’s alright, it’s okay’ is what she said to herself, she got up and it was very apparent that the adrenaline rushing through her body was basically gone now because her ankle hurt like hell. ‘It’s alright, it’s okay’ she mumbles to herself. She can walk, she can. It just ~really really hurts~ and she can push through.

She’s almost up the hill when she remembers her earphones weren’t with her. Another sigh. She turns and waddles down the hill again. ‘It’s okay, you can get you music going, make it back, get a hot shower, and then sweatpants. :) sweatpants.’ and that became her motivation.

She bends over, grunting loudly, much like a hippo, and gets her earphones, she’s plugging them in as she makes her way up the hill and starts her music.

?? Starts her music. ?? ‘What the hell?’ Pressing the volume button, she turns it up. Pauses and unpauses the music, checks her data, even wastes one of her precious skips on her free Spotify plan 😩 The next song was her favorite-most recent add. She unplugs her earbuds and presses play, the music loudly booms out.

‘It’s alright, it’s okay my earbuds are broken it’s cool it’s not like their expensive’ and she carries on. Tosses them in a public trash bun and makes her way back to the dorms. Smiling and waving at people on the street and ❤️boy does her foot hurt❤️ She’s just back at the building when she sees Momo.

“Hey y/n!! How was your run?” She smiles at you and you smile back.

“It was good, how are you?” Momo says she’s well and they go their separate ways. A very tiny part of y/n is sad that Momo didn’t notice the pain she was in, but then again, it’s not like she gave any evidence of the ache in her ankle. This was her fault.

She opened her dorm room door and closes it up. She sighs and takes off her shoes, her socks are sweaty and gross as she removes them (🥵) she had missed dinner and she groans in disappointment. Hopping in the shower she stretches her back.

Update: the water never got hot enough and she had run out of conditioner.

‘It’s okay some people don’t even use conditioner, it’s fine...’ she thinks, but her hair already felt uncomfortable. The idea of her favorite soft sweatpants she bought from the men’s section is all she wants right now, and luckily for her she had cleaned them that morning. Her ankle is crying at that point and for some reason her shins and thighs really hurt. Maybe she can text and ask Jirou to get them for her :D

“Heyy Jirou 👋🏻”

“What’s up?”

“Your dorms right by the washing machines 🥺 I was wondering if you could get my sweatpants from the farthest right machine, their pretty big and dark blue.”

“Oh y/n, the machines broke, the water pipes burst this morning 😯 I can’t believe you didn’t know, all the clothes were soaked”

“What? oh my gosh :( well it’s okay, how are you?”

It wasn’t okay, things were getting progressively harder for y/n to be positive and now she can’t even be comfy while she stresses out about exams. Y/n spent another hour and a half going over school stuff while icing her ankle. And she’s embarrassed to say she went through a few toilet paper squares whipping away her angry tears, her tissue box empty as it was also allergy season.

She went to bed stressed and sad. But she still went to bed with ‘it’s alright, it’s okay, tomorrow is a new day, I can do this’ her eyes closed and luckily got some shut eye.

She did not wake up from her alarm, nor the sun, nor a villain attack, no, it was the 🙂throbbing pain🙂 in her ankle. But heyyy it’s alright just choke down a few ibuprofen, probably some acetaminophen since she finished off her ibuprofen last night and God knows she doesn’t have the extra $$$ to buy name brand meds right now.

And dangggg did her legs hurt, she shimmies up her skirt and tucks her shirt in, she’s looking in the mirror as she ties her shoes when she notices her bruises, ya know the purple and yellow globs of skin all along her knees. Great.

It was hard to keep a positive mindset that day. She was really struggling to keep it up. And it wasn’t hard for others to tell. She smiles as she takes her seat in class, Ochaco immediately notices her bruises.

“Y/N WHAT HAPPENED?!” She wails, y/n shakes out a laugh sorta sound and shrugs,

“I don’t know, like they just come outta nowhere, it’s so weird, I probably got them on my run or in training.” She smiles at Ochako.

“Y/nnnnn” she wines, “you gotta be more carful!” And then she turns around to respond to iida calling her.

Y/n sighs, you were tired, unmotivated to even focus on the lesson, your normal happy vibe wasn’t there anymore and you were definitely not the only one who could tell.

Kirishima was a really observant guy, he knew from past tests how worked up you got over you’re studies but this didn’t seem like the same stress. You looked overworked and tired, not to mention the bruises, ᵂʰʸ ʷᵉʳᵉⁿ’ᵗ ʸᵒᵘ ᵗᵃᵏᶦⁿᵍ ᶜᵃʳᵉ ᵒᶠ ʸᵒᵘʳˢᵉˡᶠˀ :(

He spent most of the lesson focused on you, the frown on your face made his stomach hurt.

“Hey y/n! :D” Kirishima dances over to you.

Your face immediately brightens up, “Hey Kiri, how are you?”

“I’m doing well, I just wanted to check up with you.” He has a kind of concerned look on his face, a cute eye smile but his eyebrows furrow together.

Y/n pauses, but then smiles, “D’awe Kiri that’s so sweet, I’m doing well, thank you for asking”

Kirishima isn’t dumb, yeah he’s not the smartest book-wise, but he’s really good at reading people.

“Oh, okay, just making sure.” He’s disappointed and a little sad you didn’t confide in him. He rubs your shoulder and gives one last smile.

As he leaves your hand traces over the phantom chill of his lingering touch. For some reason his concern brings a tinge of tears to your eyes. ‘Geez get over yourself y/n’

In other news, your ankle was doing terribly 😁.

——————————————————————————

There’s a certain line for you, a certain line that if crossed you just can’t help but break down. At this point you were close, but not in the danger zone. You shoulda known better than to spent the night studying again.

You wake up feeling terribly rested but what did you expect? There was a noise at the window and you thought you were imagining it at first but it continued. The blinds screech open and you make a mental note to try to never provoke that noise this early ever again. But all thoughts leave you at the sight of a baby bird.

Laying on your window ledge is a baby bird, probably not a week old, there was nearly no fuzz on the innocent creature, definitely no wings yet.

Y/n is kicked into action. The baby was hurt, barely moving. Y/n’s tentative hands scoop the lil guy and he’s cold, shivering, and still as loud as ever, a strangled noise comes from y/n. She did not care if she was gonna be late, this bird was gonna die.

And this is the part I hate the most because there’s nothing, nothing she coulda done, nothing. And she just watches as the little bird wiggles slowly and then just stops. Her mind is as silent as ever and her lips are sealed, her eyes water and she doesn’t know what she’s supposed to do, just let it sit there? Does she bury it?

As tears roll of her cheeks she sets the little bird in an empty shoe box, she sets the box on the window sill and then she leaves.she leaves as if nothing just happened. She’s still taking it on okay? That was literally he most sporadic thing she’s ever done, there was no plan, no thought in that event, she just watched a creature die. ‘It was just a bird, it’s alright, its okay y/n’

But tears are still rolling off her cheeks and she knows it’s not just about the bird, it was about everything, not talking to her family, her friends, stress over school, her bad days piling up, it just crashed. She hid herself in the bathroom and washed her face with the sink water. There were no towels so she had to dry it off with tissue paper that stuck to her face. Her tears never stopped, though her eyes clenched painfully, and her hands kept rubbing and she kept taking those deep breaths it seemed that nothing helped and then she sniffled and then a choked squeak left her. Her eyes kept watering and her head ached. Her legs ached. Her bandages foot ached. Her heart ached. She cried loudly, she can’t remember the last time she cried audibly, but she’s gasping and wailing.

At some point she picks up her feet and splashes her face again, this time drying it with the bottom of her tucked shirt. Her eyes are red and swollen but if she walks into class with her hair and head down nobody would notice.

People noticed. She was late, Aizawa scolded her and she cleared her throat before apologizing. Nobody could tell yet as she took her seat. Froppy pokes her back from her desk,

“What happened, ribbit?”

Y/n clears her throat loudly and coughs a bit, she leans back and tilts her head, “I just slept in.” Her voice does ~not~ sound like her. And everyone can tell. Bakugou is staring and from the back of the room kirishima watches carefully again.

By the end of class y/n’s head is down and covered by her arms, her eyes are closed-the light only worsening her headache.

The girls whisper about her, nothing malicious, just about their worries, she wasn’t herself, y/n was a morning person, never late, never. She always greeted the class and today she sounded so distressed.

“Hey y/n, lets head to lunch, todays lesson was so boring I was just thinking about how hungry I was all lesson.” Ochacohad a smile on her face as she looked down at your sunken form, your head still on the table.

“Nah, Ochaco, I’m not too hungry today.” You mumble.

“You okay y/n? you seem kinda down.” She squats down to try to look at you.

You clear your throat and take a deep breath to fix your voice, “yeah I’m just tired is all no worries, you lift your head up and smile at her. Her face only grows more concerned at your swollen eyes. “O-oh okay, hang in there y/n we’re here for you.”

She walks sideways to share glances at the other girls and also look at you. They leave to the cafeteria and you scold yourself for worrying them. Everyone else is gone, you sigh and tug on your hair.

The noisy drag of rubber on stone fills the room and you flinch up, full attention. A chair drags it’s way in front of your desk, a mop of vibrant red hair clears your view. Oh. Well... that’s a thing.

“Hey.” He says

“Hey.” You say, trying to sound little congested as possible, but your nose is just so clogged and your throat is a bit scratchy. “We’re you not too hungry? You should still get something, I have somthing in my bag if you want- oh well maybe I don’t but I have some cash for a vending machine.” You spew out, he doesn’t respond.

He just looks at you, and he feels the guilt he felt yesterday once again, he should pressed kn more, her shoulda made sure you really were okay, he could tell you were upset yesterday but he shrugged it off and now you were pretending to not care and offer him snack money.

You had obviously been crying, why? It had to have been this morning, what happened, were you stressed again? He doubts you would’ve cried about sleeping in, so what was going on, why didn’t you confide in him? Did he make you uncomfortable?

“Y/n.”

“Yeah? What’s up?” You quickly answer, trying to clear the air and make it as little awkward as possible.

“What happened?” His eyes hone in on yours, his deep rooted compassion always shines through his eyes. “What’s wrong?” He asks quieter.

You would be lying if you said this didn’t make you want to cry again. “Ahh yeah I’m just so tired these days, but it’s really-“

“Nah” he breaks you off, “nah that’s not it, I’ve seen you tired, we’re classmates y/n, this isn’t like you.”

It stresses you out even more to have to talk about this and years are vèrÿ ćłôšē to spilling out. Nevertheless you mumble out, “what do you mean? It’s me, Kiri.” The pained smile you wear hurts him physically.

“No, no, y/n I can tell. What happened to you? Why are you so... sad?” He weighs his words, questions wether or not he should be saying anything at all. “You would light up a room, what happened? What made you like this?”

And bam. Wow kirishima, thanks, you have officially made y/n cry, do you feel good about yourself?

Tears slip over your cheeks and he doesn’t look up until they hit the desk. He pulls his legs together and suddenly is on his feet, “oh, oh no!!! Y/n I’m sorry, what’s wrong, hey, hey it’s okay.” Officially freaking out®

He dashes over to the back of the room to grab some tissues while he violably hits his head, ‘why did you say that??? What’s wrong with you? You made a girl cry!’ He internally yells at himself.

“Here.” He hands you some tissues and awkwardly rubs your back. “I’m sorry. I never meant to make you... upset.” His feet fiddle and his knee bobs on up and down with the pitter patter of his shoes.

“No, I’m sorry, I never meant to worry anyone, I want to go back to normal, this-“ you swallow, choking on air, “this week just, just sucks.”

“Hey.” He bends his knees and balances on the balls of his feet. At your eye level, he yanks your chair towards him, pulling you in so you’re facing him. “No, don’t apologize, I want it.”

What. The. Fwak. Is you saying kirishima?

“I want you to worry me, I mean I don’t enjoy worrying about you but I want you to be comfortable with me, and tell me when your stressed or bothered by something, or when you’re excited about something or when your sad about something, it’s not a burden you know? I want it, I want you to be close to me.” ̶L̶a̶y̶i̶n̶g̶ ̶i̶t̶ ̶o̶n̶ ̶t̶h̶i̶c̶k̶ ̶t̶h̶e̶r̶e̶ ̶a̶r̶e̶n̶’̶t̶ ̶w̶e̶

You just stare at each other, his eyes are dead serious, he doesn’t break eye contact for a second.

“Y/n?”

You look at him again, not having found your voice quite yet you simply nod.

“There is no pretending in friendship, in any relationship, y/n. We have to be honest with each other, you need to- to let others care about you, ya know? The girls were really worried, we all were, so when you feel like this you gotta tell us. Okay? Can you do that for me?”

And for the first time that week, it really was alright, it really was okay, and just like always, tomorrow was another day, and even though today wasn’t the best y/n now realized the incredible importance of her friendships, the increasing admiration for Kirishima and the growing hope for today’s tomorrow.

——————————————————————————

(Unedited) I’m not the most happy with this, I wrote it so quick because my original writing of this was deleted suddenly and I had to rewrite it and I didn’t want to forget anything, anyway, I’ll make it better in the future, hope you enjoyed it, even just a little.

[darksiders-scenarios]

May i perhaps ask for a scenario/perhaps a drabble in which the human gives Death flowers?

Aie, what mess have I written? Sorry, I’m still being ridiculously slow because of exams and work :( Since I worked on a few asks, I think it’s ok to open my ask box again though I’m still working on more. I hope everyone is safe and well. 

----

'What if he's one of those yardstick types?’

‘Now you’re overthinking it.’

You kept overthinking it. ‘"Oh, you got me a gift! Let me measure theweight of your appreciation for my existence. Behold! A floppy stem, a symbolof your utter thoughtlessness. Gasp! A weed! A symbol of your unforgivingcarelessness. Guards! I found a-"'

'As poetic as your stream of consciousness is, howabout you stop assuming flapdoodle about my brother you don't know and justgive him the Creator-damned flowers.'

'I don't even know how to begin, how to approach him. Wh-What to, to say.'

'How about- Hey, you rotting carcass, listen to me or I’llharvest your bird.’  

You stared at the horseman.

Fury shrugged. 'Always works for me.'  

But the threat of disappointing loomed large as youlooked at the disarray of flower arrangement in your hand. A stem floppedmiserably to the ground. 'It's not easy,' you murmured.

‘Well of course it's not easy since you care so muchand love so deeply. Your problem stems from overgeneralising and catastrophising.Disaster won't strike, tragedy won't ensue. You've survived a whole damnapocalypse by Oblivion.’

You ducked your head.

‘What's more,’ Fury continued. ‘I believe what you’redoing is an honourable thing. This direct expression of gratitude to a valued companion.Words are the most powerful and simplest way to express gratitude yet you aregoing beyond that simplicity. You're choosing action over mere words. Andbelieve you me, more species could benefit from such trait. Humans areremarkable like that.’

You glanced up. ‘That… helps. Thanks Fury.’

'Anytime my little simian. I suppose you would need aflask of a sort for the posy. Strife says he's got one in his dubiouscollection.'

You almost forgot how to breathe. 'Why do I feel likeeveryone knows?'

'Because everyone knows.'

You thumped your face in your free hand, groaninghard. 'Great.'

'Indeed. Besides, who better knows his brother thanhis own sister?'

'His brothers?'

'Now your thinking is really flawed.'

*

'I can't be sure if you're courting me badly or thatyou've been spending too much time in the company of my wayward brother.'

Mortified and embarrassed, your sense of relief savagelycombusted and you wished the ground would swallow you up at once. 'You couldjust tell me that you don’t like it.’

Death glanced up quickly, as though taking note ofyour stunned expression for the first time. ‘Did I utter that out loud?’

You let your face answer for you.

‘I did, didn’t I?’ For a few heartbeats, both of youwere absolutely still. 'What is the occasion?' he tried awkwardly.

'That would've been a much painless way to start theconversation,' you mumbled unhappily, feeling deflated.

'I know I...' Death sighed, running his hand down hisface. ''This is completely unexpected, you see. I... It doesn't matter, itdoesn't excuse my outburst. I’m sorry.'

‘Answer me this then,’ you said. You hid the smilewhen Death stared at you expectantly. ‘Why Strife?’

‘Because I recognise his signature stench,’ he noddedat the crystal flask in your hands.

‘Adequate,’ you allowed. ‘So…. take two?’

The warmth in his eyes always did something to yourstomach. ‘What is the occasion?’ he asked again, comfortably this time.

‘There’s no occasion. I just wanted to give yousomething to express my appreciation for you. To say thank you.’

‘For what?’

You shrugged, looking away. ‘For everything you’vedone for me. Your support made me stronger, wiser. Thank you for always beingthere for me. For… for accepting me as family. I-’ you laughed, a nervoussound. ‘You can see that I didn’t prepare a speech but all I want to say isthat your friendship means the world to me. And I... am forever grateful toyou, Death.'  

The birds chirped their evening songs and the breezewhistled through the trees. You can hear the water gurgle in a nearby stream.

'So you are bribing me.'  

'Yes I-' You heart twisted viciously in your chest. Ittook a few moments to regain the will to speak again and when you spoke, yourvoice was barely audible. 'Is that... is that what you think?'

Death eyed the floral bouquet suspiciously. 'What elsecould it be? Here you stand, having just blatantly listed the qualities thatappeal to you. By giving me this "gift", you hope to reinforce those favourablequalities, do you not? So, bribery.'

'I… I see,' you relented heavily, heart plummeting toyour toes, crushed. 'Here I stand foolishly believing that we were longpast such... puerile presumptions of the other.'

'What a coincidence.'

You looked up sharply. Laughter danced in his eyes.Death barely evaded the kick to the shin and he fully broke into a laughing fitlike a child hearing the word "poop".

'You got me, you old git!' you hissed, nursing yourthrobbing knuckles after a successful blow to his arm.

'I know!' Death exclaimed cheerfully, utterlyunrepentant. 'I could see the anxiety rolling off you in waves.'

'Of course you would revel in that,' you groused,blinking a few stray tears from your eyelashes.

The laughter slowly faded, though his eyes stilltwinkled. Death smiled softly. 'I apologise. It was inappropriate conduct ofme. I truly appreciate the gesture. May I have my gift?'

Yet oddly, it was that inappropriate conduct that madeyou feel lighter, as though a heavy weight has been lifted off yourshoulders. You approached him, offering the bouquet. 'And I apologise for strikingyou.'

Death accepted the flowers, carefully gripping the crimsonholder, the flowers layered in silk ribbons. 'Nonsense. I deserved it and youknow it.'

He turned his gaze downward and you waited silently,pulse quickening. 'From your front yard?' he asked without looking up.

That obvious? 'Ye-Yes. The... best ones,' you added lamely. Damnit, you knew that you should have asked Muria to let you in her atrium!

Death didn't say anything as he stared at the flowers,his expression thoughtful. 'I see a mix of such seasonal foliage, the, ah,farmgirl-esque arrangement.’

The what? ‘Y-Yeah, that’s right,’ you said stupidly. Crap,is that a good thing?

'What do we have here?' he murmured, gently touchingan orange flower. ‘Genus Berberis. A symbol of bad temper.’

‘Precis-what!’

He carried on. 'The hellebore winter flower. Representingscandal.'

You looked scandalised. ‘Listen-‘

‘The Narcissus!’

‘I didn’t know you were versed in floriography. I feelbetrayed.’  

‘The yellow Hyacinth. Jealous, child?’

‘At this moment, not really.’

'"Caution, danger," cries the Rhododendron!"'

‘I think you’re having waaay too much fun with this.’

‘A striped Carnation!’ Death gave his most dramaticgasp. ‘Rejection!’

‘I feel… that you’re being unfairly selective.’

‘I am,’ Death declared triumphantly. And you calledStrife wayward, you thought. ‘The best ones,’ Death parroted your words, theasshole.

You groaned. ‘If you don’t like it-‘

‘Hands off my posy.’

You quickly dropped your hands, unable to contain yourlaughter anymore. ‘You can be really silly, you know that.’

Death chuckled. ‘You understand that I am not likethis to anyone.’

You stopped laughing almost immediately, replayingthose words for the next minutes. ‘I’m honoured.’

You startled when Death suddenly placed a hand on topof your head, fingers reaching behind your ear. Your hand flew upautomatically, without thinking. The back of his hand was as always coarse andpowerful.

'I believe your trajectory is off,' Death said softlyafter a brief pause, gently directing your hand to the soft petal of the flowertucked behind your ear.

'No,' you blurted, mentally punching yourself. 'No, Imean-' you squeezed your eyes shut, willing to control your tongue. You exhaleddeeply. 'What flower is it?'

'Can you not smell it?' his voice was gravelly low toyour ears.

'All I know is that my hair smells the sweetest it hasin a long, long time.'

Death snorted. 'Now there's something we can bothagree on.'

‘So what is it?’

Your muscles turned rigid when his long finger tracedthe general area behind your ear, brushing against your fingers. 'Canterburybell.'

You swallowed, your gaze fixated on the green shardson his chest, gleaming bright emerald in the evening glow, throwing tiny pearls oflight on your clothes. ‘And… what does it symbolise?’

There was a softness in his amber gaze. ‘Gratitude.’

Time halted. The faint thrum of your pulse beat louderthan a storm. Your fingers curled around his larger ones and this time, hedidn’t move your hand. His eyes crinkled and you knew that behind his mask wasa broad smile. You smiled contently, gently closing your eyes and resting theside of your face against his chest, breathing in synchrony with him. At peace.At peace.  

Your pulse picked up pace, beating much louder in yourears and faster, faster. That's funny, you're not feeling anxiou-

A moment later, Death tore away from you and leaptback as though scalded by a cauldron of lava. 'What in Oblio-'

The posy exploded in his face. The violent impactsending him toppling into the bushes. It was never your pulse.

'Death!' you leapt over the foliage of desecratedpetals as you ran to him. 'Death, what the hell happened?'

'I should've known,' Death hissed through clenchedteeth, pushing himself to his knees, dragging his weight from the bushes. 'Thestench. I should've known you were up to no good.'

'Death, your mask!'

'What the- my mask!'

Standing before you, battered in the aftermath of theposy outbreak, was a livid Death- with a cactus lodged to his face mask.  

'Someone will perish today,' Death promised, low andthreatening, his voice somewhat stuffy.

You stopped a metre before Death, brows furrowing inbewilderment when a shadow was cast from the bushes, seemingly out of place. Itloomed in size until the saboteur revealed themself at last from theshrubbery, coming to stand behind Death.

Strife leant close, deliberately slowly till his lipswere close to his brother’s ear. And whispered.

'Roses are red,

Violets are blue.'

'Piss off, Strife.'

Strife didn’t piss off.

'He has many names,

But Prickface suits you.'

'I said, piss off!'

The air infused with Strife's gleeful clapping as he skippedaway from Death's gigantic spectral fists and dance-evading the wraths of the Masherof Karkinos, and a disorderly horde of noisy ghouls until they disappeared intothe horizon.

Somewhere in your house, Fury smirked. 

*

That night, your bedroom door was kicked wide open.

'Welcome back to mysorry-didn't-realise-it-was-a-dungeon room. How can I he- Death! I thought itwas War! And what do you know? Your mask is fixed.'

'I had a spare. One must always be prepared, as youknow.'

You shuffled uncomfortably. ‘Listen, about before-‘

Death clapped his hands. ‘Put something warm. We’re goingon a night ride.’

You practically leapt from the bed.  

[laythornmuse]

Merry Christmas!

To  @mybeautifuldecay

It’s been so fun getting to know you a bit this Holiday Season!  Your drawings and fanfictions are beautiful and I’m so grateful to have gotten to know you better.  I hope my messages brought you an extra helping of cheer, and I hope you love this story.  It’s taken on a life of its own, and I have you to thank for it <3

Thank you @moghraidhjamie for hosting this wonderful event!

To all the wonderful Outlander fans,  I hope you all get some downtime this holiday season and get to catch up on all the wonderful fiction the writers are pouring out!  I know I will. 

PROLOGUE

Claire first felt it when she was 9 years old, a warm, delicate flower blooming in her chest, that made her stomach tingle and her knees wobble. It occurred every time she greeted James Fraser, the laird’s son.  

At 12 years old, Jamie was tall for his age, though his face held a softness to it that magnified when he smiled.  It was that smile and the gleam in his blue eyes that made her say yes when he invited her to play, and she quickly found herself with three new siblings as Ian, Jenny, and Jamie counted her as their fourth.

A resident of Broch Morda all her life, she and Uncle Lambert moved into a cottage at Lallybroch later that year when Brian Fraser hired him to tutor his children. Though Jamie would be sent to Paris in a few years, he needed instruction to prepare him for the rigors of University, and as a learned man, Uncle Lambert suited this position well.

Living at Lallybroch also suited Claire. She was an adventurous and spirited child whose curiosity often lead her into hour-long discussions about every topic imaginable, but her latest obsessions were plants:  the purpose of plants, how they grow, and why there were so many of them.  

She hated the Church’s answer.

“But WHY did God make them all?” She whined one afternoon, tapping her pencil along her ledger. She puffed out a breath that made her curls bounce against her brow, and frowned at her uncle.

“Maybe God was bored,” Jamie muttered, too engrossed in his arithmetic work to look up. Jenny rolled her eyes at him and kicked his shin under the table. She looked at her friend and chewed her bottom lip.

“They offer wonderful variety,” Jenny said, contemplating the question.  “They’re all so unique in shape and color, and they change as all living things do.”

“Variety can’t be the only reason,” Claire argued. “And they’re not all pleasant. Some are sharp and grotesque.”

“Good use of your vocabulary word,” her uncle murmured, before tipping his head up and smiling at her. “Why, it’s quite simple,  my dear.  They each perform a special task in nature. Plants can heal and kill, and some can do both. The real pleasure comes in studying how.”

With those words and a copy of Phillip Miller’s “The Gardener’s dictionary,” published just last year and a prized possession in the Fraser home, Claire took to botany and the healing power of plants and herbs.

When not sleeping or doing her chores, Claire would spend hours reading and collecting plant samples. When Brian Fraser bought her a mortar and pestle and some herb seedlings, Claire added gardening to her daily joys.

Her love for plants proved useful one winter when Jenny, Ian, and Jamie were confined to their beds with awful fevers and coughs. Claire dutifully made eucalyptus pastes and ointments and applied it to each of her patients to help them sleep.

Jamie however, wanted no part of it.

“It smells awful,” he moaned, pulling his blanket up to his chin and shifting away from her.

“I’m surprised you can smell at all. Your nose is redder than cherry.” She tutted at him and circled around to the other side of the bed. He immediately moved away from her. “Really, Jamie if you don’t hold still, I’ll sit on you.”

“James Fraser!” Brian barked from across the hall. “Let Claire treat you or I’ll make you wish ye had!”

He glared at her and her smug grin and huffed in defeat. Claire crawled on the bed next to him and applied the ointment to his throat and chest.

“You’re less fevered today, at least. Do you want me to read another chapter?” Claire asked with a smile, as she tucked the blanket back under his chin.

Jamie yawned and turned on his side. “Aye, but start at the beginning of Chapter 2? I fell asleep during it.”

Claire smiled and pulled the book into her lap as Jamie shifted closer to her knee.

“That evil influence which carried me first away from my father’s house—which hurried me into the wild and indigested notion of raising my fortune, and that impressed those conceits so forcibly upon me as to make me deaf to all good advice, and to the entreaties and even the commands of my father—”

“Sounds like a trouble you two share,” Brian Fraser said under his breath as he tucked an extra blanket around his son’s feet. He soundlessly padded out of the room before tossing a final glance at the pair, not missing the gentle smile his son wore as Claire turned the page.

In the spring, Claire would lead the group on foraging expeditions, and she often found new specimens in between their games and adventures. Jenny would sketch the plant, and if deemed necessary, Jamie would painstakingly dig it up so it could be relocated to Claire’s garden and studied.

This morning Jamie and Claire were alone,  as Ian and Jenny were still working on their lessons.

“I’m not having much…” Jamie sneezed violently.  “Luck…with this one…”

He carefully wiped his 15-year-old face on his sleeve as his eyes watered. Claire, now 12, grinned and took the plant from his hands. He blinked rapidly, and when his eyes cleared, he saw Claire’s smile, radiant as a spring morning’s glow.

“I think that’s three allergies I’ve discovered now, Jamie.  One could wonder why you bother helping me anymore.”

Jamie’s cheeks turned pink as he kicked at the dirt by his feet.  He never turned down an opportunity to spend time with her, even if it was to dig up ragweed. He shrugged, but Claire saw the telltale drumming of his fingers against his thigh. His expression settled into one of determination, and before his bravery waned, he closed the distance between them.

The kiss was a quick beat of butterfly wings against her lips, and too soon his wings were gone.

“That’s why,” he whispered.

A moment later, courage fully expended, he was gone, headed to the barn to finish his chores. Claire held a hand to her mouth, a giddiness filling her as her lips tingled, still wet from his. She could smell his lingering scent, grass and salt and fresh hay. She stood still for another ten minutes, taking inventory of all that would or could change from that kiss before she returned to her garden with her new specimen.

When the sun began to lower into the hills, Jamie found her in her garden where she usually ended her days. He smiled at her as she stood and was about to speak when Brian Fraser called them both inside.

“Jamie, you remember your uncle, Dougal?” Brian said curtly, eying Dougal where he stood in their parlor.

“Aye. Welcome, Uncle.”

“You’re a braw lad, Jamie,” Dougal began, “and your father and I thought it time for you to know your Makenzie lines.”

“Aye?” Jamie looked at his father whose face was blank, masked to hide his true feelings on the matter.

“Your mother and I agreed to it after Willie passed.  Your uncle Colum is a wise man, but unable to travel.  A season or two at Castle Leoch, under Mackenzie care,” Brian’s eyes burned into Dougal’s, “and then three years at University in Paris.”

Jamie’s mouth gaped like a fish for a few moments before his father’s raised brow made him close it. He had yearned for this day for years, anxious to advance his sword skills his father had taught him.

A smile broke across his face as Dougal’s hand clasped his shoulder. Brian ruffled his son’s hair, a sadness drifting through him at the thought of parting from him.

Claire watched the exchange from the doorway, her mouth clamped shut to prevent it from trembling.

Four years? From her closest friend and…her thoughts traveled back to the kiss and she tasted acid in her mouth.

Not to be. Not now, at least.

And so she forced a smile on her face, for Jamie seemed overjoyed, and went to set the table with Jenny.

2 Years Later

“The Fool.  His letters get shorter and shorter while his requests only grow longer.” Jenny muttered.

Claire laughed as she looked up from her knitting. “What now?”

“Three shirts, a scarf, and a package full of mending. Apparently, he’s too busy to darn his own socks.”

“You’d think with his exams he’d look forward to distraction.”

“Oh, he’s plenty of those,” Brian Fraser muttered, not looking up from his book.  Jenny’s eyes darted from her father to Claire,  whose attention was now focused on her pearling.

Jamie’s letters had turned from warm to formal, and their length from 5 pages to 1.  Brian’s messages with his son, however, had become longer and solicited more exasperated sighs and Scottish affirmations.

For several months, Brian was tight-lipped about their contents, but finally a month ago the contents had mingled into Jenny’s letters as well.

Jamie thought himself in love with a woman named Annalise.

Claire, simply put, was devastated.

The letter had arrived months ago,  and Jenny had shared it with Claire without knowing the contents.  Claire had held her face until she was back in her shared room.  She cried until her chest ached, and tried her best to keep quiet to not disturb Jenny.

Eventually,  Jenny slipped into bed behind her and pulled Claire to her shoulder.

“Sob if you must, Claire, and hold onto me. I’ll never tell a soul, mo chridgh.”

She let her tears roll freely down her face, gasping for air as her heart throbbed and her lungs shook with the strain of loss.

Jenny held her through the night, stroking her hair until Claire fell into a fitful sleep at last. In the morning, Jenny felt a shift within Claire.  Her face was solemn, having tucked away the shards of her heart, and by afternoon she renewed her vigor in her studies.  

Jenny watched her now with pursed lips, but Claire’s indifferent mask did not falter.

That night, there were no tears.

Chapter 1

[italicwatches]

My Hero Academia, season 2 - Episode 20

The summer is upon us. I hate the summer. It is a cruel and deadly season. But anyways, it’s My Hero Academia, episode 20! Here we GO!

-Opening!

-PREVIOUSLY ON My Hero Academia, Deku got his brain fucked somehow.

-Episode 20: Victory or Defeat

-And PRESENTLY ON My Hero Academia, Eraser Head up in the commentary booth even notes that Shins got screwed by the methods used for the hero entry exam. His power doesn’t work on robots.

-Back down in the field, Shinso casually orders Deku to turn around and walk out of the stage, and his body just starts to do it! The power to put a body under someone’s control as soon as they answer a question…If Deku can overcome it, he could smack this guy in two seconds…If he can’t? Then he’s just going to lose, right here.

-He’s lost in his own head, barely able to string his thoughts together, his body not under his control…If he can focus, if he can put something together…Damn it…!

-Flash back to what tail-guy figured out and told Deku. Shinso’s power over him ended as soon as he bumped into someone and received new input. But relying on an outside force like that in a one-on-one match would be foolhardy at best…

-Deku’s not just trying to get his body to work for himself…He’s got the hopes of tail-guy, and of everyone who withdrew, and of No Might, and…And…AND…!

-Deku’s sheer will starts to charge One For All…He manages to get some charge into his hand…And a single charged flick of his fingers kicks up a huge swell of wind that delivers his own shock, snapping him out a single step away from the edge! His fingers are broken, purple from hand to tip…Deku, internally, realizes something’s not right about it. He managed to get the charge, but he wasn’t the one who moved his fingers and sent it out. That was…

-…It was One For All. It was the spirits of those who carried this power before him. The legacy of his own strength, the hopes of those who wore this strength to save others…Is that even possible?

-It doesn’t matter. He has a chance. Stay silent, Deku. Say nothing! Grit your teeth, refuse to rise to his barbs! He slams into Shinso, holding on strong, and charging right for the other side! Shins manages to turn it, to try and push Deku out instead…But Deku just grabs his arm with both hands, even with his broken fingers, and with tears pouring out of him from the pain, with it in agony, he flips Shinso overhead and puts him flat out onto the ground! A single solid strike, and it’s over…!

-Flashback to three years ago. Middle school. A younger Shinso surrounded by the kind of kids who immediately saw the potential to use his power for evil…And of course, it’s an obvious power for evil. But, he’s, he’s only ever wanted to be…

-Back to the now. He wakes up from the toss in time to find himself still on the ground…And Katsuki recognizes that throw from when he went up against Deku, pouring out his rage.

-When Deku and Shinso both stand there in the aftermath, all he can do is ask why Shinso wants to be a hero…And Shinso, can’t help what he wants. He walks up in a fury…

-Until, some of his General Studies partners start to praise him, calling him the star of the class. And some of the heroes here watching see just how damn useful that power could be for safely restraining villains.

-He got noticed. By the heroes. For someone who’s raged so long at what fate cursed him with…A lifeline, a thread. Two more years of opportunities. He can chase those dreams…!

-After it all, Deku’s in the temporary nurse station with Recovery Girl and No Might, and of course he’s all full of anxiety and feeling the real weight of actually aiming for the top…But also, since they both know everything about his Quirk, he lays out what he saw there. Those nine faces, that managed to push him…Was that…Just how many people have held One For All?

-…He saw it once, too, when he wasn’t much older than you. It’s not a vision with intent. They’re not ghosts possessing you or whatever. But there’s a little…Weight. A little fire, that every wielder can leave behind. And that little bit of weight…It didn’t move your fingers, Deku. But it was enough to give you the strength to do it. Also quit focusing on your previous match and look at your next one! So he sprints off…

-While Shoto is almost ready for his match…When he finds his father there, waiting for him. His father, who he barely says a single sentence to before trying to just walk past him…And that’s when Endeavor mentions his siblings. Shoto’s not the first…Which…Good god, that’s a terrible thought.

-Deku gets an observation seat with his friends, as Shoto faces down the tape kid, Sero Hanta. It starts, and immediately Hanta goes to bind Shoto up and fling him out…But Shoto just pours the ice on HARD, with an overwhelming display of will and fury…Enough that the jet of ice goes past the edges of the stadium. Hanta’s locked up from the neck down, Midnight’s entire left side is iced, and the heroes watching just stare.

-Shoto can only apologize for letting too much of it out, as he starts to undo the ice…Deku’s retrospective narration, somewhere down the line, notes that Shoto standing there, having let out so much ice, looked more sad than anything else, full of regret and sorrow…

-Credits!

…Well that all got really really real. And I suspect it’s going to get even more real. I guess we’ll just have to see next time, in episode TWENTY ONE of My Hero Academia! Wait for it!