#i get paid tomorrow so ill sleep on it before i make a decision

[constellarcreator]

SO I FOUND MY HOLY GRAIL PLUSH FOR A REASONABLE PRICE. UM. CHAT IS THIS REAL.

[badbatchenthusiast]

a little realisation i came to today, about living with and coming to terms with having a hidden disability, especially neurodiversity, trauma and/or mental illness:

for the last six months, i have struggled quite a lot. it’s a high-stress time in my life where everything i do counts towards major life decisions, and the main message i’m hearing from the people around me is that i need to give it my all, work as hard as possible, or i’ll regret the opportunities i’ve missed.

needless to say, i haven’t been sleeping particularly well. i’ll go to lessons and then work a 4 hour shift on two, maybe three hours sleep. i’ve been so anxious that knowing i believe i’ll be exhausted the next morning no matter how much i sleep, and the 9hrs i’m set to get by sleeping early won’t be enough still (because life is inherently overwhelming and overstimulating as an autistic person). this makes me stressed about how i’m not sleeping until it’s five in the morning and i can finally relax enough to doze. everything is being impacted; my attendance has been slipping, my tutor is involved. it’s felt like i’ve been getting worse and not better, like life is going to continue going downhill until things i used to find easy — falling asleep, organising my own schedule, keeping my studies balanced with work and a social life — are things i’m finding almost impossible and are taking great effort to maintain at a reasonable standard.

but here’s the thing.

i’m not getting worse.

it feels like i am, because new problems are arising that weren’t there before, but someone i owe a lot to pointed out today that a year or two ago, i would not have been able to express myself. they wouldn’t register as problem areas, i’d just push myself into collapse. i would’ve worked myself into a meltdown instead of walking to the support office and informing them i needed to go home, would’ve been in verbal shutdown or unresponsive or having a panic attack instead of being able to stim and breathe through the overwhelm. today i made a calculated decision, of leaving early instead of sticking out for the rest of the day and probably exhausting myself enough to not be in tomorrow or the day after. and that’s huge.

my autism isn’t ‘improving’ despite me having less of the massive meltdowns or shutdowns that got me diagnosed in the first place. i’m probably more visibly autistic than i’ve ever been. my anxiety hasn’t lessened despite no longer having regular panic attacks.

but i’m catching it earlier. i can identify what’s going on with me before it becomes a crisis, and i’m starting to have the skills to run interventions.

when people say progress isn’t linear, i think this is part of it. i’m not getting worse, i can just see the problem now and put a name to it. the analogy that came to mind was a building, which before i could only tell was fragile when it caved in, is now having the work put it to rebuild properly. but before you can have a nice foundation and solid walls there’ll be a lot of looking around, and realising the concrete is cracked to shit and nothing is reinforced and those spots you never paid attention to are in fact black mould which are eating at your walls. and these are realisations i was not having before because i didn’t know, i didn’t have the tools or the understanding to make sense of it.

my floors are no longer collapsing on me at random. it’s instead a constant series of little things, because i can tell when a pipes burst and deal with it before it floods everything and rots the floors. but this awareness brings with it the feeling that something is wrong all the time. that there are constant little fires to snuff — that things are getting worse, not better. that yes i know how to stop a broken pipe from leaking now but it doesn’t change the situation, which is that the entire system needs swapping out for less rusting parts. it’s easy to get lost in all of this and forget that actually, before, this would’ve been a build up to a crisis and now it’s something i can deal with before it snowballs.

learning to cope and accommodate myself after being told my entire life that i am going to be impressive, that i’m capable of being high achieving in anything i put my mind to, has been rough. i was never going to succeed at the life other people talked about for me; i’m simply not able to work that hard without hurting myself, and honestly i think few people are even without a disability. i don’t want to live life for other people, i want to build something im proud of, for me, designed to make me feel good and comfortable and succeed in a way that makes sense for my ambitions and needs. and both are important; success isn’t out of the picture, i just need to rethink it so it includes being happy and coping with what i find difficult. i won’t lie, it has been a process of mourning someone who never existed, who i never could’ve been. i still resent sometimes the fact that i can’t go back to masking so much no one notices my symptoms.

but i’m improving. steadily and tangibly. it takes work, and at some point it’ll definitely feel like leaving the unstable building in place was preferable to the deconstruction because recreating it all with a healthy and sturdy foundation seems impossible, but it just takes time. you replace one brick at a time.

it gets better, i promise, even if it’s hard to believe. any step forward is progress, no matter how small, until you look back and realise you’ve come an unimaginably long way forward.

[chevvy-yates]

Hi it's me again 😆 with some questions for your boys and Hizumi. I'm nozy 🤭

Vijay: 19 and 31 Jaysen: 24 and 27 Ryder: 4 and 14 Thyjs: 7 and 26 Hizumi: 18 and 22

19. What do they think about before falling asleep at night?

Vijay thinks about what has happened during the day, then his thoughts get distracted by another thought about tomorrow and he's stuck thinking about how tomorrow will be — if it will go like he's planned or if something will distract him. Before a job he is in total focus on the job procedure, plays every possible outcome through in his mind, makes it worse than it is and plans even more. Sometimes he's so busy thinking in bed that he thinks for hours and hours without getting tired and it'S already morning. Eventually he decided he needs to find some sleep or else. He often has to take some meds to find sleep at all because he cannot stop thinking.

31. Most prized possession?

His DMC DeLorean 80s retro car. (I'm waiting patiently for the mod to find its way into cyberpunk - I've seen someone works or has worked on it as I saw a picture but well. I never ask (there was a mod of it long time agot but it'S broken since before 2.0 so I … sit and wait for it so I can add it for him).

24. Is there one subject of study that they excel at? Or do they even care about intellectual pursuits at all?

If you ask jaysen about his studies, he hated every subject. But that didn't mean he didn't care about it, nor was he bad at it. He was good in most, it didn't even needed to learn much but he finds it boring to learn for a test and learn fo it so you are able to have a good job with goo paid money. E.g. he was good at mathematics and physics rathern than language heavy subjects. But as said he doesn't care much about it. And I don't think I have to say he's temenduously good in all things netrunning as a netrunenr should be good in this just by basics or they will get fried on their first day of chippin' in.

27. What is their biggest regret?

Jay doesn't really regret something that lies in the past. He maybe only regrets that he didn't found out about his twin brother vijay sooner which led to have missed so much time with him as they did not grew up together. So if he regrets one thing it would be that he and his brother could have have a normal life together but he, neither Vijay, had an influence back in the events tat happened because they were both just about to be three years old.

4. What would they do if they needed to make dinner but the kitchen was busy?

This is a weird question. Ryder's kitchen is NEVER busy xD It's his kitchen, and I doubt that even Thyjs once he joins him in the Glen flat will never cook much either and even if he would cook sometinh - there's still so muhc space for Ryder to cook himself something as well. But the boys usually don't cook. They order or go out.

14. Physical abnormalities? (Both visible and not, including injuries/disabilities, long-term illnesses, food-intolerances, etc.)

the only disability Ryder has since he was born was his astigmatism. he wasn't allowed to get optics until he turned 18 (his family hates cyberware) and always wore contacts other than that he does not have any disabillity neither long-term illness or any intolerances. It would be fatals if he had given his German royal Corpo bloodline. I don't know if replacing his good arms with cyberarms counts as some sort ob abnormality? I mean who the fuck just walks into a ripper doc's office and demands "Cut off my arms and install me some with blades!" having literally no clue what Ryder was demanding there. At this point of his life he literally changed everything on himself drastically often not thinking about wether this decision is good or not. Hate and anger mainly for Cyberpsychos drove him towards this decision. Of course the blades made it able so he could protect and defend himself in the first place, and he finally had sometihng that was added to his overall look that can be freightening plus he could fight with his integrated weapon he's always carriend with himself. If trained right mantis blades serve you well. What he did not have in mind: learning how to live with two cybernetic forearms from now on that have sharp blades, he didn't know how to handle at first. Also add the fact that he will never feel touch again like he used to hasn't been on his mind back then either. He was only to discover it afterwards because the ripperdoc didn't care much to inform him about it since Ryder seemed to be bold and harsh. At the start Ryder often second-guessed himself about this decision he made. In the beginning he often sat at home having problems just to grab a beer because he had to learn that his brain accepts the cyberware and the given commands were set into the right motion. Nontheless he kept them and accepted his decision. The cybernetics are good tech, yet now a bit outdated though, and the doc did a godo job so Ryder's body accepted the integration well. He doesn't feel any pain and everything works like it should. He gets them checked frequently.

7. Favorite way to waste time and feelings surrounding wasting time

okay this question gives me a headache. I don't know how to answer that, I'm too dumb for this and as I want this post to be finally posted I'll let this unanswered bc I hadn't an answer for it all the previous months … I'm sorry.

26. Do they have any plans for the future? Any contingency plans if things don’t workout?

Thyjs future has always been the military. The only future he saw himself in was being a colonel later or maybe a higher rank, command a bigger section in his senior days and then live the rest of his life having a family if he would not die in a mission. Future took another turn for him landing in NC, betrayed by Militech (NUSA not EU). He doesn't know where his future leads him now, he only knows he's a part of the team now and his task is to protect this team by all means – especially Ryder. They don't know what awaits them at the end of their journey, how it plays out for everyone but he knows he wants to stay at Ryder's side and just let future come at him. He also does not want to bother about it too much. You can't really coontrol it anyway.

18. Favorite beverage?

all kinds of lemon water and soda. Be it hot or cold. Hizumi drinks an average amount of this each day. Vending machine provide it whenever you want (especially in Japan).

22. Given a blank piece of paper, a pencil, and nothing to do, what would happen?

Hizumi would draw one illustration after another of japanese yokai in all sorts and variations. Thy love to draw and mostly in a traditional way also often with brushes and chinese ink.

[fuck--wit]

i can't sleep tonight. tomorrow (in 4 hours) is the first day of my sophomore year of uni. i've been waiting for this day to come because maybe it would help pull me out of the funk i've been in lately, but im worried now that i'll be ill-prepared for it from the lack of sleep. i couldn't sleep the other night, either. i stayed up roughly from 1pm til 2am over 24 hrs later. my memory doesn't serve me well so it's hard to remember precisely how often these lows occur, but i haven't had a completely sleepless night since last fall at least. even my late-night meltdowns from withdrawals left me with some rest each night. i'm also worried about having to quit again. i hope with school starting that it'll be easier to distract myself, but i'm also worried about doing well this semester with just gummies.

i wanna make a sleep basket. i like to change up where i sleep a lot, recently i've been crashing in the couch pit we made. but i want a basket containing remedies for sleepless nights. a journal and pen, ibuprofen and other pain relievers(edibles), it's where i'll keep my loveys, tissues, maybe an easy reading book/comic book, and other things i think of that make sitting alone in the dark a little more bearable. it'll have room for my snacks and water, too.

i've been trying to find a hair routine that helps to accentuate my curl pattern. i've always had a mix of curls patterns from 1b-3b and i've had some luck getting some stronger waves sheet i tried using a cotton shirt during the drying process. i just hope it stays like this for school.

i also hope i don't get berated at school by one of my professors. i got a D in THE pre-requesite for my major and im so grotesquely concerned that my professor is gonna be all professor-y about it. i feel assured that i'm not getting kicked out of the program, i've done really well in every other major-specific course, but i will cry in front of this professor if they make me feel like i'm better off quitting. i know it's my own anxiety that makes me feel this way, and i know in my heart that i'm gonna try harder this semester, i just can't bare the thought of another adult criticizing me for my decisions.

my mom would also commonly get so anxious over things that she lost sleep for it. like the nights before our first days of school, she'd be so nervous about us missing the bus that she wouldn't be able to sleep. i picked up on so many behavioral patterns as a kid that it bothers me a little that i didn't know then what i know now. i wish i could have paid more attention to the patterns in her behavior as they pertained to mood cycles. maybe then i'd be able to determine if she has bipolar, and then if i do, too. it doesn't matter to me what label belongs to my mental illness, i just wish the professional world was more forgiving with accommodations. like, if only i could more easily vocalize my struggle in the moment. like saying, "hang on, what you're asking me to do is actually really challenging and i'm not sure how to do it. and every time i express confusion, you only repeat yourself. so forgive me for crying mid-lesson from stress!" i don't even know how i would go about asking for the other professor. they all work so closely together that i'd fear my current professor hearing my faults with them. and respecting me for it- that's actually the bigger fear. i'm afraid that if i speak up about getting scared or stressed out from this professor will make me look overly-sensitive.

it's been an hour so i'll try sleep again. otherwise i might as well enjoy coffee and the sunrise.

[awhitehead17]

100 ways to say I love you - TimKon edition:

Number 45: “What do you want to watch?”

Enjoy! :D

“Where are you? You said you’d be here twenty minutes ago.”

Kon rolls his eyes as the breathless huff comes through the phone’s speaker. “I didn’t say that. I said, I’ll be leaving mine in twenty minutes, not that I would get to yours in twenty minutes.”

“Still doesn’t explain why you’re not here yet.” Tim comments sounding petulant. Kon would be willing to bet that he’s currently pouting as well.

“I’m on my way now,” Kon reassures his boyfriend smiling to himself, “I won’t be long.”

There’s another huff on the other side and before Kon could say anything else, Tim hangs up on him. Both surprised and not by the action, Kon rolls his eyes again and pockets his phone, deciding to let it go this time. Tim’s in one of his impatient and needy moods and not getting what he wants is leaving him a little temperamental.

It happens occasionally and it’s something Kon finds both exasperating yet adorable only because the mood occurs when Tim is sick. His boyfriend has recently come down with a nasty head cold, most likely a result of getting drenched on a stake out at the end of the previous week. Before succumbing to it, Tim had tried to brush it off as nothing and continue as normal, it was only after he got himself into a situation he couldn’t get himself out of that he finally gave in and went on bed rest to let it run its course.

He’s been pretty needy since then and Kon honestly doesn’t mind. He’s rather liking how much Tim wants him around, even if it’s just to cuddle or to use him as a pillow and personal heater. Also it’s not often Tim lets himself be needy, his own personality of needing to be independent and self-sufficient stops himself from seeking that basic comfort, so seeing Tim so open about it makes a change.

Kon’s currently in a shop picking up some bits that might cheer Tim up a little as well as to help him get over the illness. He wasn’t lying when he said he wouldn’t be long, the Tower is only ten minutes or so away from this store.

Once he’s paid for the items he heads straight for the Tower afterwards. Within those couple minutes of being on the phone with Tim and leaving the store his boyfriend had messaged him five times, each one telling him to hurry up or simply sending him a frowning emoji.

Without any more delays Kon goes straight to Tim’s room once he arrives at the Tower. He lets himself in and is immediately greeted with the sight of a miserable looking Tim all bundled in blankets on his bed sat in the dark with his TV on.

As soon as he enters Tim's head snaps in his direction and Kon sees a weak smile appear on his face. He doesn’t know if it’s the darkness of the room, but Tim is looking worse than the last time he saw him. His skin appears to be paler, he has dark circles under his eyes, he’s slumped on the mattress like it’s eating him whole and overall just looks exhausted.

Kon shuts the door and approaches the bed, he bends forwards to press a kiss on Tim’s warm forehead and starts emptying the items he’s brought onto the mattress.

“I brought some stuff which I thought may help you recover a little quicker, as well as something which I thought may cheer you up.” Kon explains as Tim tiredly examines the contents. “Have you taken any medication or have had some water recently?”

When Tim shakes his head, Kon sighs softly having already guessed his answer. Digging through what he brought he brings out some medication for Tim to take along with a bottle of water.

“The medication will take a little bit to kick in. Are you hungry, I’ve brought some dry snacks you could have?”

Tim shakes his head again and sends Kon a miserable look. “I’ve been feeling nauseous for hours now. I retched earlier but nothing came up. This may be more than a head cold.”

Kon winces, feeling bad for Tim having to deal with it all. He may have a point about it being more than a head cold, a bad one at that, but then again Tim doesn’t have a spleen, his immune system is already weakened so this may have just escalated from that originally.

“We’ll keep an eye on it, if you’re not feeling any better tomorrow we’ll get you looked at just in case. Though you will have to try and eat something at some point, you’ll need the energy and the nutrients.”

Tim mumbles something incoherently and Kon could see how Tim is now fighting to stay awake. Knowing it won’t be long before he drops off to sleep, Kon clears the bed of the items and climbs inside the barricade of blankets Tim has made.

Together they get comfy underneath the blankets and stretch out on the bed. Tim is practically lying on him with his head just turned enough so that he could see the TV screen. Kon has an arm wrapped around his back in support and uses the other to brush a hand through Tim’s hair but not before picking up the remote and flicking through Tim’s Netflix account.

“What do you want to watch? Choose whatever you want, I don’t mind.”

Tim mumbles against his chest which has Kon rolling his eyes. Figuring that Tim won’t be contributing his decision anytime soon, Kon flicks over to the ‘watch again’ list on the screen.

“What about Star Trek?”

For a third time Tim makes an unintelligible sound but this time it was accompanied with a nod of the head. Taking that as enough of a confirmation Kon selects the programme and settles against the bed again, wrapping his arm back around Tim comfortably.

As predicted it wasn’t long before Tim fell asleep, his body going completely limp against Kon, his heart beating steadily against his chest and his breath hitting Kon’s neck in regular intervals. Kon smiles to himself, adoration for his boyfriend flooding inside of him. He’ll let Tim sleep this medication off and once he’s awake Kon will get some food inside of him and then make a decision on how serious his condition is. Until then he’s going to enjoy Tim sleeping on him and some Star Trek at the same time.

[giuliafc]

Betrayal Chapter 14: A Sorrowful Conversation

<< 1 -- 2 -- 3 -- 4 -- 5 -- 6 -- 7 -- 8 -- 9 -- 10 -- 11 -- 12 -- 13 -- 14: Ao3 || FFN -- 15 >>

Written by: JuliaFC

Beta: Agrestebug and Myimaginationflows

Summary: Gabriel explains what happened to Emilie (997 words)

Disclaimer: This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by (c) Thomas Astruc, TS1 Bouygues, Disney Channel, Zagtoon, Toei Animation. No money is being made and no copyright or trademark infringement is intended.

Written for the "Snippet July" challenge of the Miraculous Fanworks Discord server @miraculousfanworks AND for LadyNoir July @ladynoirjuly Day 25 — Immortality/de-transformation. Let me know what you think!

oOoOoOoOoOo

Volpina smirked and checked her spy bug once more before entering the lift to Gabriel's office. None of the heroes, or Su-Han, seemed to notice the fox anti-heroine. However, unseen by her, Gabriel watched as she disappeared from view.

When Gabriel again paid attention to the heroes, he noticed that Su-Han had approached Emilie's coffin and Ladybug was filling him in.

"We're not sure what happened to her. She overused the Peacock Miraculous while it was broken. Is there anything you can do, Master Su-Han?"

"A broken Miraculous?" said the bald monk, scratching his head. "I don't know if there's a way to save her. It's never happened before." He placed his hands on Emilie's forehead and closed his eyes, starting to chant in a low voice. "She seems to be in an enchanted sleep. How many times did she use the Peacock?"

"One too many," said Gabriel, causing all eyes to turn towards him. "We were desperate to keep you, Adrien."

Su-Han looked around suspiciously. "We shouldn't say the names of the heroes, in case their identity could be in danger."

"It won't," said Gabriel with a sigh. "The intruder you sensed left."

"How do you know that?" asked Ladybug, her earrings beeping out a warning.

"I have eyes, Ladybug, and nothing else to do. Volpina was here; she left moments ago by using the lift to my atelier. I've kept an eye on it since then, but she hasn't come back."

Chat Noir walked to his father and crouched down to look him in the eye. "What do you mean you wanted to keep me, Father?"

Gabriel sighed, but when his gaze met Chat Noir's, a decisive frown furrowed his eyebrows. "Félix isn't your cousin, Adrien. He's your twin brother." His gaze seemed to get lost in his memories, and his expression softened when Chat Noir widened his eyes and gasped. "Emilie couldn't have children, but she always wanted one. We had gotten to the point of thinking of adoption, but Amelie found out to be pregnant with twins. Emilie was happy for her sister, but her sadness slowly deepened and I became really worried for her. Until the night that Adam nearly died in a car accident."

"Uncle Adam? But he only died recently!" interrupted Chat Noir, gaining himself a glare. "Sorry…"

"Amélie was devastated. She started falling deeper into depression. More time passed and Adam wasn't getting out of the coma he had fallen into. So Emilie started researching things that could have helped. We spent months travelling around the world looking for something that could help him. That's how I learned about the Prodigious in Shanghai, and eventually, I found the Grimoire, and the two Miraculous jewels. When Duusu told Emilie about the power of the Miraculous, she went to Amélie and told her that she had a way to give her back Adam, to make him immortal, but in exchange, she wanted one of her twins. Amélie accepted."

"I don't understand. The Peacock doesn't grant immortality." Su-Han furrowed his brows.

"True, it doesn't," admitted Gabriel, "but Emilie's plan was to create a sentimonster that looked like Adam and give him his amokatised object—"

"If the Miraculous was broken, the Sentimonsters wouldn't last long, even if created by an adult," conveyed Su-Han.

Gabriel nodded. "Yes. That's what caused Emilie's illness. In order to keep her promise to Amélie and keep SentiAdam alive, she had to keep creating sentimonsters to replace the ones that malfunctioned and disappeared." He looked down. "She didn't mind doing that though, because Amélie had given consent for Adrien's adoption. But little did we know that by pursuing this path and making her sister happy, she would've ended up sick. And eventually on a deathbed."

Su-Han scratched his head. "How many sentimonsters had she created with the broken Miraculous?" he inquired.

"About five per year for fourteen years," said Gabriel and Su-Han sucked his breath in.

"What about this other lady? How many did she create before the jewel was repaired?"

Gabriel was quiet for a moment. "I think seven, possibly eight. I can't remember precisely, but one of them took a lot of her energy because it was a replica of Ladybug."

"I see," muttered Su-Han. Then, he turned to Ladybug. "Your earrings have already beeped a couple of times. If you want to repair any damage…" His gaze darted significantly towards Nathalie. "...you better use the Miraculous Cure now."

Ladybug nodded and threw her lucky charm in the air, releasing the flock of ladybugs. She was relieved to see that a good group of magical insects blobbed around Nathalie. By the time the magic had finished its job, the older woman was opening her eyes and looking around, almost in a daze.

"Good," muttered Gabriel, his gaze softening as he looked at his assistant. But before he could say anything, or do anything, Ladybug's earrings beeped louder.

"I have only a minute left. I need to detransform and feed my kwami." She moved fast, looking for a place to hide, and had literally just moved out of sight when her transformation fell.

Chat Noir reached Marinette as she grabbed a macaron from her purse to feed Tikki.

"I'm so sorry for your mother, Adrien," said the red kwami in between chewing. Chat Noir looked down, his hand reaching for his nape. "I understand why Gabriel wanted to get our Miraculous to save her, but making the Wish, although for a heartfelt reason, is never the solution."

Chat Noir looked down. "I know, Tikki." He glanced at the coffin and sighed. "I just wish that there was a way."

Tikki patted her paws on his hair, trying to show him her support. "I'm sorry, but there's nothing that can be done. The Miraculous cure can't work on your mother any more. She will never come back."

From his position leaning at the far side of the coffin, Gabriel buried his head into his knees and muffled a sob.

To be Continued… day 26

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

Author's Note

Okay so… this is my contribution to the sentimonster theory. It still explains why Emilie fell sick, it still explains why Adrien and Félix look the same. Of course I don't know if it's right, but for the purpose of this fic, it will do ^-^

I hope you liked it and will leave me a comment to let me know what you thought of my idea :)

Until tomorrow, bug out!

[toutallyahoe]

Flirt ~ Shinsō Hitoshi (BNHA)

Requested By: --

A/N: this'll be a series but my dear gremlins... pray to a god that ill actually follow through the fucking outline i have written and have the motivation to write because lmao

also, wowowow bnha yall? and here i thought i outgrew my weeb phase but guess not! now, dont spoil me shit please because i still have no clue what the fuck is happening in the fandom since i havent touched any anime for fucking months (well, except me watching four episodes of free! two weeks ago but shhhhhh) so dont fucking be cunt to spoil, yeah? lmao thanks and enjoy this shit ajsvdjskdbjsb

fun fact, this was supposed to be only 500-800 words but GUESS WHO GOT TOO INTO THIS SHIT AND WRITTEN 3600 PLUS WORDS YALL?!?!?!?!?

Flirt | Flirt 2 | Flirt 3

─────────────────

Hitoshi let out a tired sigh leaving his lips as he shoves his hands on the pockets of his hoodie. A frown on his lips as he tried to hide his face inside the purple scarf wrapped around his neck, hiding away from the cold breeze passing by.

It was a cold day, that can be said and Hitoshi wished to just stay in his warm bed while being cocooned with his comforters and blankets to keep him from suffering the cold air of January while sleeping probably until noon, if he was lucky that is and not have his mom wake him up. Sadly, Hitoshi was asked by his one (and only) friend to meet up and hang out and the indigo haired knew that no matter how many times he flat out disagrees, the [Hair color] haired male always was a stubborn one. And once he makes up his mind, he'll drag Hitoshi along with him.

"This better be worth it," Hitoshi grumbled as he was still angry to leave the comforts of his bed and warm room to be outside with the January air being cold and having no clue where he was. With a sigh, Hitoshi remembered how [Name], his friend, basically begged him to accompany him to the new cafe that opened. Hitoshi would have flat out reject the [Hair color] haired male if it wasn't for [Name]'s four words he uttered yesterday.

It was a cloudy, Friday morning. The first period was over and each class has a ten minute break before the next teacher comes in to discuss whatever subject they had planned for the young minds of each of their classes. Hitoshi distinctly remembered that the next period teacher was absent for today and with that knowledge, the indigo haired male decided to spend the ten minute break and aswell as the next period doing something important. Sleeping.

The indigo haired male suffered from the lack of sleep. With his hectic sleep schedule and insomia just kicking in, Hitoshi has limited amount of sleep and it can be known with the large bags underneathe his eyes. It doesn't help that he had to finish some homework his teachers had pilled up to them. So, Hitoshi decided he'll sleep than study or chatter with his classmates like the others are currently doing. The indigo haired male let out a sigh and he positioned himself to be comfortable on his seat and plopped his arms on his desk and was about to slam his head onto his arms when a loud bang echoed inside the room.

Due to the loud noise, it made a lot of students shriek in fear and stopped whatever they were doing and snapped their heads on where the loud noise was heard. The loud bang they heard was from door of the classroom slammed open with so much forced that some pondered how the hinges of the door was still intact. But what everyone focused was the figure stood there, clad in the familiar clothing of the male's uniform of the school although the uniform was now wrinkled here and there and the student's hair was messy and all over. His hand was gripping the doorknob tightly as the student was panting harshly and gasping for air, indicating that he had did something to actd that way, and everyone knew it was running.

"HITOSHI!!!" The figure screamed when be had gathered his bearings and immediately, everyone recognized that it was none other than the school's resident ray of sunshine, [Name] [Last name].

[Name] stood tall and proud when he finished gasping for air. Wiping the sweat off his forehead as he sent a beaming smile to everyone as he frantically looked around the room but then his gaze directed to the said male he screamed their name out.

"Hito-chan!" [Name] had happily called out to the indigo haired male as skipped inside the indigo haired male's classroom. Not minding the lively chatter that comtinued before he interrupted from the other students that were still inside the room nor the way their eyes following him approaching the indigo haired male that everyone enjoyed to avoid like the plague. As [Name] was close, he immediately threw himself to Hitoshi and hugged the male who gave him an unimpressive stare with his actions.

"Let's go out together this saturday!" [Name] suggested as he smiled at his friend who he felt slumped on his arms, clearly lazy and tired. "I found this new cafe and I think you'll like this one!" He had happily said as Hitoshi grunted on his arms.

"No," Hitoshi bluntly disagreed and shoved [Name] away from him. Hitoshi's surprising actions made [Name] let out a yelp and almost stumbled back. It doesn't help that the realization hit him on the indigo haired male's answer, he frowned for a second but then jumped back to his childish attitude. Hitoshi did not mind his friend's sputtering on his answer as he prompted his arms on his desk and placed his head on them. "And stop calling me that!" Hitoshi grunted as he closed his eyes as the indigo haired male wanted to sleep for a bit before the break was over.

"Huh?!? But why?!?" [Name] pouted and whined as he looked at Hitoshi. The indigo haired male let out a groan when he felt the [Hair color] haired male shake him by the shoulders.

"Hito-chan! Don't just sleep on me!" [Name] whined to his indigo haired friend in annoyance. "Tell me why!"

Hitoshi grumbled incoherent words to himself as he raised his head and opened his eyes to glare at his friend who still was shaking his shoulders. "Stop being immature, idiot," Hitoshi grumbled ad he rolled his eyes at his friend's childish and immature actions on puffing his cheek and crossing his arms over his chest, acting like a toddler being mad.

"Am not!" [Name] grumbled as he then pouted. "Why are you such a meanie, Hito-chan... and answer my question!" He whined as Hitoshi rolled his eyes again. Christ, why was he friends with [Name] again? Who even says meanie as an insult anymore other than four and five years old?

"Because I said so," came Hitoshi's blunt answer which made the [Hair color] haired male whine louder. [Name] frowned as he looked at Hitoshi who did not paid mind to him and was about to lay his head on his arms again to try and sleep.

"Come on Hito-chan!" [Name] had begged as he drop down on his knees and kneeled down beside sitting form of his best friend. His hand cupped together in front him as he gave his best puppy dog eyes to his indigo haired best friend who didn't even looked at him. "Please, Hitoshi?" He begged, using Hitoshi's proper name and not the one he calls to the indigo haired male. "I promise you'll enjoy this one!" [Name] pleaded.

Hitoshi narrowed his purple eyes and took a glance at his [Hair color] haired friend who was still in the floor, kneeling and trying to coerce him with his puppy dog eyes that was definitely NOT working. Hitoshi sighs as his ears picked up the sound of chattering surrounding him. 'Right, we're still in class... this is so embarrassing...' Hitoshi grumbled on his thoughts as he closed his eyes.

"Please Hitoshi!" [Name] shouted when the indigo haired male was too silent for his liking. As the [Hair color] haired male stayed there on the ground, not moving from his kneeling position. Hitoshi thought over his words on hanging out together on Saturday. After a few more seconds, Hitoshi finally made his final decision.

"No," came Hitoshi's final and blunt reply. Still unchanging despite the [Hair color] male's efforts on pleading and begging for him to consider.

"Hitoshi!" [Name] cried out as he whined at the indigo haired male who went back to placing his head on his arms to get some sleep.

"I'll pay for everything!" [Name] had said. It seemed like those were the magic words as he saw the indigo haired male crack one eye open to look at him. There was a hum from the tired male as [Name] begged to whatever deities listening to him currently that they would give him some good karma and bless him to have his friend accompany him.

As [Name] begged some higher beings to make the indigo haired male reconsider his answer, Hitoshi thought about it again. Was it worth waking up early to meet up with the [Hair color] haired male? Was it worth not getting some much needed sleep just to hang out with this male who Hitoshi swore doesn't know what quietness or silence is?

"... fine..." Hitoshi grumbled out his agreement as what is more better than food? Free food and Hitoshi will make sure the [Hair color] haired male will have an empty wallet after tomorrow. Hitoshi saying his agreement had closed his eyes again and tried to get some sleep. Not minding [Name] immediately stood up from his kneeling position and fist pumped the air while screaming "yeah!" in excitement.

Hitoshi sighs as he stopped walking and looked around the area he was in. The indigo haired frowned and looked at the sky in annoyance, he then looked back around again and tried to remember if he was in the right place on where his [Hair color] haired friend was supposed to join him to take him to the cafe he was obsessing on taking Hitoshi there. Tapping his shoe in annoyance at the pavement, Hitoshi let out a tired sigh as he then took his phone out from his hoodie's pocket and unlocked it. Pressing on the massaging icon, the indigo haired male immediately pressed the very top of the messages with the familair name displayed and he began typing, rather annoyedly as he did.

TO: Idiot (◕ω◕✿)

FROM: Hito-chan♡ (눈_눈)

where are you?

[08:22 AM]

Hitoshi typed and sent it when done as he stood and looked arpund again. He was standing in the sidewalk from a busy street where people, young and old walk around and minding their own business. On some occasions, Hitoshi would see some people with unique quirks. The indigo haired male had to hold his sjort when he saw a businessman with a head shaped like a cactus. As Hitoshi looked around and waited for his [Hair color] haired friend, his phone vibrated on his hand. His screen lit up, indicating it recieved something to have its user be notified. And the indigo haired male saw the sender's name which made Hitoshi let out a tired sigh.

Idiot (◕ω◕✿) sent (3) messages

Hitoshi opened his inbox and tapped the most recent messages that he received and the indigo haired male saw what his friend had replied. If he can, Hitoshi would have liked to slap [Name] when he saw the messages.

TO: Hito-chan♡ (눈_눈)

FROM: Idiot (◕ω◕✿)

IM SORRY FOR BEING LATE HITOSHI!!! .·´¯'(>□<)´¯'·

[08:27 AM]

I OVERSLEPT AND I HAD TO FEED TOSHI \(๑>д<๑)/

[08:27 AM]

DONT WORRY IM ON THE TRAIN GOING THERE ASDFGHJKLL ヽ(≧Д≦)ノ

[08:28 AM]

The indigo haired male stared at his screen for a moment as he then raised one of his hand and slapped it on his forehead. "My God... [Name]..." Hitoshi grumbled underneath his breathe as he began to type his reply.

TO: Idiot (◕ω◕✿)

FROM: Hito-chan♡ (눈_눈)

hurry up idiot

[08:32 AM]

or else im leaving

[08:33 AM]

After sending those two text, Hitoshi immediately gotten a reply and he didn't have to look at the screen of his phone which displayed the messages to know that his [Hair color] haired friend was whining at him on being a 'meanie' and begging him not to ditch [Name].

Not a few seconds later, Hitoshi's phone vibrated. The indigo haired let out an annoyed grunt as he tap the green icon to receive the call from [Name] as he then placed the phone on his ear. Hitoshi winced and had to hurriedly pull his phone away from his ear with how loud [Name] was on the other line.

"HITO-CHAN!!! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE!!!" [Name] cried out on the indigo haired male's phone. Hitoshi had to gather his bearings from the [Hair color] haired male's voice. Hitoshi swore that [Name] sometimes had that loud pro-hero's voice, Present Mic. Both being incredibly loud and their voices goes annoying real fast.

"HITO-CHAN PLEASE WAIT FOR ME!!! IM ALMOST THERE!!!" Hitoshi let out series of grumbles as he listened to [Name] beg for him to wait. Hitoshi wonders why he even bother with his friend. Looking around, Hitoshi noticed he was getting some looks, from judgmental, curious to annoyed ones. It made the indigo haired embarrassed.

"Keep quiet," Hitoshi hissed as he felt heat creeping in on his cheeks from the looks of passersby he was getting from the loud [Hair color] haired male on his phone. "I'll wait but just... shut up, idiot," Hitoshi grumbled as he heard [Name] thanked him profusely on the other line. The indigo haired male rolled his eyes at his friend's attitude and had to stop himself from snorting when he heard [Name] getting scolded on the other line from how loud he was. 'Idiot...'

"A-ah! I'm so sorry for the disturbance!" Hitoshi heard his [Hair color] haired friend apologize. There was another voice piping on the other line aswell as shuffling. The indigo haired wondered where his friend was. 'He said he was close?' Hitoshi thought. 'But he also said that he was still in the train...'

Hitoshi was about to end the call when [Name] continued talking, more quietly than before. "Hey, Hito-chan?" [Name] had called out. The said male hummed to show he was listening as Hitoshi looked around the area again to see people walking pass by him.

"Yeah?"

"I... well..." Hitoshi raised his brow at his friends uncharacteristic hesitation but the indigo haired nale did not mind. The indigo haired male knew that [Name] always goes head first in situations and did not think about it. Hitoshi found that attitude of his to be stupid really but [Name] was [Name], and his friend always gets it in the end. "Thank you for being my friend..."

Hitoshi paused. Gripping his phone tightly, there was a smile on his lips as he rolled his eyes at the [Hair color] haired male's words.

"Yeah... sure... whatever, idiot..."

Hitoshi looked at the time on his phone and let out an annoyed sigh when he saw it was twenty-two minutes after [Name] had called him and ended the call with the [Hair color] haired male promising he was close by already.

'Yeah right... close my ass...' Hitoshi thought as he bit his bottom. The male was still not here and it made Hitoshi regretted leaving his bed more than ever. 'At least he should've have the decency to come in time...'

Hitoshi swears that when he sees his friend, he'll slap the [Hair color] haired male for being late. The indigo haired male knew that he will make his friend buy the most expensive stuff in this cafe they were going so [Name] will regret inviting him and being late. But either way, Hitoshi liked watching the cars and people passed by, the indigo haired male just wished it wasn't so goddamn cold and that he was actually sitting than standing like a dumbass in the middle of the sidewalk as he waited for his friend.

Looking at his phone again, Hitoshi decided to pass the time by playing games on his phones. It was already twenty-six minutes since the call and despite [Name] assuring him that he'll be there, he still wasn't and Hitoshi did not want to think what made his friend so late. He knew [Name] always had a terrible skills in time management. The [Hair color] haired male can either be ten minutes early or twenty minutes late, there is no inbetween and the indigo haired male wished [Name] was the former for atleast this outing but it seemed like lady luck was not on his side. Well, when was she always on his side? She never was as he grew up anyways. Having born with a villaino--

"HITO-CHAN!!!"

"GAH!!!" Hitoshi almost dropped his phone and would have been thrown to the ground if he had not steadied himself on time. That still not prevented the indigo haired male to be scared out of his wits and a frightened scream leaving his lips when he felt a body colliding behind him aswell as weight distributed on his back and arms wrapped around his neck, tighly.

"Hito-chan!" The said male let out quiet curses as he turned to look behind him to see the male he was waiting shining him a beaming smile. "Hito-chan! Im so glad you didn't ditch me," [Name] had said as he nuzzled his face on the other male's cheek.

Hitoshi felt his face burned in embarrassment from his best friend's affectionate gesture. And not to mention [Name] was being so close to him in public. Hitoshi's cheeks were painted a light shade of pink flush as he turned his head the other way from his friend.

"I almost did..." Hitoshi muttered as [Name] guffawed at his answer with his [Eye color] eyes widen from Hitoshi's words. "Now... g-get off me idiot!" Hitoshi had exclaimed as he tried to push his friend away but [Name] whined at him.

"Hito-chan!" The [Hair color] haired whined in a childish way. "Don't be mean!"

"Idiot! Just-- get off me! It's embarrassing," Hitoshi retorted as the [Hair color] haired male pouted but complied with his words. Not without one last whine about the indigo haired male being so cold towards him which amde Hitoshi roll his eyes at his words.

"Whatever..." Hitoshi had said as he adjusted the scarf of his neck and avoided his [Hair color] haired friend's eyes as [Name] turned to look at him with a bright smile.

"Here you go Hito-chan!" The [Hair color] haired male had pushed a white plastic bag towards the indigo haired male's chest. His actions made Hitoshi turned to look at him with surprise on his face as he took the bag. [Name] still had that smile on his lips as he looked at Hitoshi.

"What... what's this?" Hitoshi asked, confused as he looked down on the white blastic bag on his hand. Hitoshi heard [Name] awkwardly laughed as the [Hair color] haired male rubbed the nape of his neck. If Hitoshi would have looked, he would have saw the soft pink flush on [Name]'s [Skin color] cheeks.

"Ah, well..." [Name] had started as he awkwardly coughed onto his fist. "I knew I would be really late so I... kinda decided to stop at this small shop near here to buy you an apology gift..." He had explained as Hitoshi looked up towards him again then back at the bag. [Name] flashed Hitoshi a grin, silently urging his indigo haired friend to see what's inside the plastic. "Hope you'll like it Hito-chan."

Hitoshi opened the plastic and had one of his hand to reached inside. There was something small and round. That's what Hitoshi had felt and with curiosity swallowing him whole, the indigo haired male pulled it out. Hitoshi couldn't help but softly smile. On his hand, it was a small keychain. The keychain was shaped like a cat with its paint being purple and had a droppy eyes. There was a small mischievous grin on the cat's face as it stood in two legs while one of its paw was raised to signify it was waving. Oddly enough, Hitoshi thought the small cat was to signify it was him.

"When I saw that... it kinda reminded me of you..." [Name] confessed.

[Name]'s comment made Hitoshi feel something inside. It was sweet, Hitoshi could not lie as he looked at the purple cat keychain on his hand. His [Hair color] haired friend thought of him when he bought this. Maybe he'll not rob [Name] off of his money for being late when they get to this cafe. It made Hitoshi feel happy--

"I mean... it had Hito-chan's tired, grinning face!" Scratch that. [Name] was still the dumbass that he was and the indigo haired male is going to order every expensive stuff to leave him broke.

Hitoshi turned to look at [Name] and would start to nag the [Hair color] haired male's ear off when the male had reached down and took his unoccupied hand and began to walk away, dragging Hitoshi with a smile on his face.

"Now, come on Hito-chan!" [Name] had said. His tone excited and happy as he looked forward and not looking at Hitoshi who walked behind him, a bit dumbfounded from his actions on just dragging him along. "The cafe is a few blocks away from here!"

"You could've had sent me the damn address so I could've waited inside..." Hitoshi bit his bottom lip and rolled his eyes. He tightly held the keychain on his hand as he caught up to his friend's pace.

Now, the indigo haired male walked side by side with the [Hair color] haired male who if Hitoshi would've looked, the indigo haired male would have saw the soft smile on his lips and a pink hue on his cheeks as they walked together towards the direction of the cafe in [Name]'s lead, hand in hand. And if [Name] would've looked at Hitoshi, the [Hair color] haired male would have saw Hitoshi held a small soft smile on his lips.

─────────────────

NEXT >

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter Five

Summary: College is kicking Nesta’s ass, so she goes to her T.A., Tomas, for some extra help. Note: Read it on AO3 here! Bittersweet Masterlist  Warnings: N/A

October

It was only a couple weeks into the fall semester, and it was already hell.

Nesta was drowning in schoolwork, whether it be essays or presentations or hour-long projects. She had exams every damn week, so she was at the campus library nearly every day – typically until the sun set and the stars emerged. But even then, her night was far from over. Nesta returned home only to catch up on the work she’d put off for her paid internship. Elain got in the habit of making Nesta tea and cookies when she returned from the library on those ruthless nights. And every damn time, Nesta would wrap her arms around her sister with thanks.

This was her routine for at least four days of the week. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Needless to say, she was fucking exhausted.

The worst part, though? Nesta’s grades were precariously low despite the countless hours she’d been putting in. And she knew exactly what was causing it.

It had been a month since her father’s death, yet Nesta was still waking up in her own sweat every morning after a nightmare involving him. Of him hanging on the edge of a cliff, begging Nesta to save him. Of her dad screaming at her to kill herself. Of her mother dragging Nesta into the other room as he watches idly by.  

Nesta had cursed herself for letting her father’s death affect her in this way. She’d never been one to grieve, especially not for so long. She preferred leaving it in the past. It was easier that way.

Thanks to her merciless professors, Nesta was forced to dedicate nearly all of her time to school, which forced her to neglect her internship. They required she edit ten pieces of work every week, whether it be self-published books, college publications, or online articles. Even though the internship was entirely online – a convenient bonus – she still didn’t have enough time to fulfill the weekly goals. Instead of editing ten works, she was barely scrapping by with five. She’d already received several angry emails from her boss threatening to fire her if she didn’t get her shit together.

And, well… Nesta didn’t get her shit together. On the last day of September, she received that fateful email.

Nesta Archeron,

I regret to inform you that we’ve made the difficult decision of letting you go from Scribner Editorial. While I understand you’re in the midst of earning your Master’s degree, we are looking for editors who can reach – or exceed – the necessary requirements. Unfortunately, you have been lacking in the past few weeks. It has caused other editors to pick up your slack and do more than what we ask for. We are sorry to see you go.

Sincerely,

Ressina Laurent Scribner Editorial

Nesta read and reread the email dozens of times before closing her laptop. Her head fell in her hands, her shoulders trembling with the weight she carried.

She stared out the window, the world a flurry of red, orange, and yellow. Nesta had worked so hard for this, and all for nothing. She couldn’t believe she’d fucked up such a prestigious internship. It’d paid surprisingly well, and that had been the only income she was receiving. Even with the paychecks from Scribner Editorial, Nesta’s financial situation was holding on by a thread. She had used the money her father had passed down to her to pay off the remaining student loans she owned. Her family never had much money and when it was split in three, it didn’t make much of a difference.

Just like that, Nesta no longer had a job.

Fuck.

Within ten minutes of receiving that email, she was already browsing online for job opportunities. Nesta didn’t care what it was, as long as it put steady income in her pocket. There was no way she would be able to finish school without a job.

But unfortunately, after an hour of job hunting, Nesta came up empty handed. The only person who was hiring was the large grocery store downtown. They were looking for a cashier. And there was no way in hell Nesta would even consider working there. She’d seen the crowds they got on weekends. The work were incessantly forced to talk with rude, invasive customers. Nesta was far from the realm of customer service.

Nesta was down to her last resort. She didn't give herself another second to overthink it as she picked up her phone from her desk and texted Feyre.

I was just fired. You know of any job openings in the area?

Nesta sat by her phone for a couple minutes until Feyre deigned to respond.

The only one I know if is Rita’s, the local bar. They’re looking for a bartender, have been for months.

Nesta nearly snorted out her coffee when she read the text. Feyre had to be kidding. Nesta, bartending? There was no way in hell she could be a halfway decent bartender – anyone who’s ever met Nesta knew that. She didn’t possess the charm nor the patience, and she certainly couldn’t deal with drunken men who leered at her all night. In Massachusetts, she'd had her fair share of hook-ups, men and women alike. It was night after night of mindless, drunken sex. But then she'd grown up.

Nesta looked back at the soft glow of her computer screen. There had to be something, right?

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

Wrong.

After scrolling through hundreds of websites with job opportunities (or lack thereof), Nesta collapsed on her bed. She checked the time to find that it was nearly one in the morning. Rubbing her face, she let out a low groan. Tomorrow was Monday. Gods, why did tomorrow have to be Monday? She was so exhausted that she was feeling physically ill: sore throat, cough, stuffy nose. The urge to skip classes tomorrow was tempting.

But Nesta knew she wouldn't skip. What would she do? A whole day to herself and a head full of intrusive thoughts. The perfect ingredients for a panic attack or two.

Her gaze fell to the small stack of bills she had yet to pay – that she couldn’t pay. Bills that would only grow.

With that thought in mind, Nesta cursed Scribner Editorial as she grabbed her laptop and searched ‘Rita’s’ on an open browser.

Then, she composed an email.

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

The next day, Nesta finally got around to contacting her Fictional Techniques teaching assistant. It was by far her most challenging class, and she despised the professor. A big chunk of her studying was dedicated to that course alone. And since she no longer had a job – for now – she finally had the time to meet with him for extra help.

His name was Tomas. He was notoriously known as the “Hardass T.A.” Nesta had heard her peers complaining about his grading on more than one occasion. It was common knowledge that he rarely gave students any feedback on their essays but when he did, it was brutal. It was practically unheard of to receive higher than a C from Tomas.

Nesta never got below a B+, though. And though she’d never spoken with him, Tomas always gave her detailed feedback on her papers, more so than any student.

So that afternoon, she emailed him.

Tomas –

           My name is Nesta Archeron and I am a student in a class you T.A. in, ENG-403 Section 003. I have a couple questions regarding the paper that was assigned on September 28th. Are you available to meet after class? It would be much appreciated.

Nesta –

           Thank you for contacting me. I would love to help you one-on-one. I’ve noticed the work you hand in, and it is spectacular. Your writing is sophisticated, and you have such potential. Coming from someone who has been in the publishing business for years now, I know several companies who would publish your work. Perhaps I can mention your name the next time I meet with them. How does tomorrow work? We can walk to the library together, maybe grab a cup of coffee (on me). Let me know.

Tomas –

           Thank you. That works for me. I’ll see you tomorrow.

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

“Don’t forget to finish up those essays! They’re due on October sixth, and I won’t be accepting anything that’s turned in late. Yes, Mr. Vanserra, I’m looking at you.”

Students snickered as they filed out of the lecture hall. Nesta grabbed her backpack and made her way down the stairs to the front of the room. Tomas had his own desk in the corner where he chimed in during class discussions.

He was already smiling at her when she approached.

“Hi, Nesta,” he greeted her. He was in the midst of packing his things. “Are you ready to head out?” She nodded.

Tomas had the charm of the boy next door. His dirty blonde hair was cropped short, eyes crystal blue, and he wore an easy smile. It was hard to imagine that this was the guy who gave students Fs for not having a cover page for their essay.

"Did you want to grab a cup of coffee?" Tomas asked her as they made their way out of the classroom. He shot her a smirk "Like I said, I'll pay."

Is he flirting with me?

Nesta prayed to the gods he wasn't. Sure, he was cute and all, but she had no interest in a relationship of any kind. Including a one night stand.

Perhaps I can use that to my advantage...

Nesta dismissed the thought immediately. There was no way in hell she would flirt with her T.A. to ensure a high GPA. She wasn't going to sleep her way to the top. That's not how Nesta did things.

A little flirting never hurt anyone.

She groaned inwardly and shut out that train of thoughts.

Tomas and Nesta chatted while they trudged to the library, backpacks full of textbooks in tow. Much to Nesta’s dismay, he fired question after question at her. Tomas asked about her family to which she miraculously deflected, about her journey to become a writer, and her ambitions. Luckily, Nesta was a pro at this sort of thing, so she simply responded to every question with a question of her own. Not the most subtle approach, but it worked.

The library was teeming with students when they pushed through the doors. Pryth U’s library was a sight to behold. Its foyer was ornate with hand-painted murals, the ceiling stretching far above them. They hopped on the elevator to the third floor. When the doors opened, Nesta inhaled the sweet scent of old books. The bookcases reached the ceiling, thus requiring a rolling ladder in every stack. When Nesta and Elain had toured the campus before the semester began, Elain was quick to jump on the ladder and sing “Be Our Guest.” Her voice was horribly off key. They both burst into laughter, clutching their stomachs until the librarian found and scolded them.

Nesta was pretty sure Elain hadn't stepped foot in the library since.

“Okay,” Tomas said, setting his belongings on a corner desk. He grinned at her. “Ready to be tortured?”

Nesta offered a less than enthusiastic smile. “Let’s do it.”

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

After a couple hours of grueling studying, Nesta hurried to the coffee shop on campus. It was five o’clock and she hadn’t had a cup of coffee since the morning. If she didn’t get caffeine in the next ten minutes, Nesta wouldn’t function properly.

The meeting with Tomas went well; he was certainly a helpful resource to have. He'd even offered to meet with Nesta again to prepare for the next big assignment, to which she graciously accepted. There may have been batting of the lashes involved.

Nesta pulled her wool scarf tighter around her neck. Even with a peacoat and a hat, she was still freezing. She let out a sigh of relief when she entered the coffee shop, grateful for the inviting warmth.

That gratefulness disappeared when she looked at the line.

It was at least a dozen people long. Nesta let out a frustrated groan, managing to put a tamper on her anger and hauled her ass to the back of the line.

After a couple minutes of drooling over the scent of fresh coffee beans, she felt a tap on her shoulder from behind.

“Nesta?” a sultry voice asked. The familiar husk in her words had Nesta turning around to see Amren standing behind her. She was staring up at Nesta through her long lashes, a smirk playing on her face. Nesta couldn’t help but admire her feral beauty: chin length hair, angular face, dark and smooth skin, and exquisite makeup.

“Hi, Amren,” Nesta said blandly. “I didn’t know you attended Pryth U.”

“I don’t,” she snorted. “I wouldn’t last one week in college. This is the best coffee around, and I don’t mind driving twenty minutes out of my way.”

Another coffee snob. Interesting.

“I’m impressed that you even remember my name. I thought you always zoned out during the dinners.”

Nesta huffed out a laugh, and a hint of surprise flashed on Amren’s face. It was gone a second later.

“It’s tempting whenever Rhysand opens his mouth, trust me,” Nesta replied dryly. “But I have my ways.”

Amren’s eyes lit up with amusement. “Oh, I’m going to like you.”

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

That evening, Nesta strolled back to her apartment with a steaming cup of coffee and Amren’s phone number.

It was quiet when she unlocked the door, but the living room light was on. As Nesta dropped her heaving backpack and padded to the kitchen, she noticed Elain sprawled out on the couch, her nose buried in her phone.

“Did you eat already?” Nesta called out as she rummaged through the cabinets. She dug through a shelf for pasta, which was buried under Elain’s many baking ingredients.

When Elain didn’t answer after a couple seconds, Nesta poked her head into the living room. She was still scrolling through her phone, the faintest smile on her rosy face.

“Hello? Earth to Elain?”

Silence. Nesta groaned in frustration. Rounding the overstuffed sofa, she assaulted Elain’s feet with her hands.

Elain’s entire body jerked as Nesta tickled her, pained laughs escaping her mouth. Elain was easily the most ticklish person Nesta had ever met. It made it easy to get information out of her.

“Stop!” Elain gasped breathlessly, laughing all the same. “Please!”

Nesta ceded and raised her hands up in surrender. Elain scrambled off the couch and narrowed her eyes.

"What the hell, Nesta?”

“I was calling your name for a good five minutes,” Nesta crossed her arms. She nodded her head at Elain’s phone. “Anything interesting?”

Elain’s cheeks flushed, and Nesta gasped.

“Is it a guy?” Her voice was threatening. Nesta had always been protective over Elain.

“A guy? No! That’s… that’s just ludicrous. Why would a guy… I mean -"

Nesta let her sister stumble over her words with amusement. She raised a brow. “Show me what you were looking at then.”

“That’s none of your business!”

Nesta gave her no warning as she leaped at Elain.

Elain squealed in surprise, trying her best to deflect Nesta's tickling. They wrestled on the couch, Elain trying desperately to get her phone out of Nesta's reach. But Nesta was taller and stronger.

“Gerroffme -"

“Just gimme -"

“Argh!”

"Ha!" Nesta stood up and held Elain’s phone in her hand triumphantly. Elain was glaring at her from the couch, her hair sticking every which way.

Nesta looked down at the screen to see the Instagram app open. Then, she read the name of the account.

“You’re stalking Azriel?”

“No! I was just following him.”

All Nesta had to do was give her a stern look.

“Okay, fine," Elain threw her hands up. "I think he’s cute. Are you happy now?”

“No,” Nesta glowered, “I’m not happy. He’s basically Rhysand’s brother. I'm not letting another one of those boys seduce my sister.”

“Seduce?!" Elain choked. She shook her head. "They’re best friends! And what does it matter anyway?”

Nesta shot her a leveled stare. “Rhysand’s an asshole.”

“He’s just protective over Feyre,” Elain explained incredulously. “Like you are of me.”

Nesta considered that for a moment. “Touché. But if Azriel hurts you -"

“Nesta!” Elain exclaimed, an exasperated laugh leaving her lips. “We’ve barely talked. I just think he’s handsome.”

“Does Feyre know?”

That got Elain's attention.

“You can’t tell Feyre.” Elain broke out her puppy face: wide eyes, pouty lips, knitted brows. No one in history had been able to resist her puppy face. Including Nesta.

She huffed out a laugh. “I may be a bitch, but I’m not that cruel.”

Elain threw herself at her sister and pulled her into a hug. "Thank you!"

After promising Elain she wouldn't tell Feyre about her crush for the tenth time, Nesta retreated to her room. She was just about to pull out her notes when her phone buzzed in her back pocket.

I’m supposed to go on a date with this guy tonight, but I just met a hotter guy on my way home. Will you judge me if I ditch the first one?

Nesta looked at the phone number.

Amren.

She could help but let out a small laugh.                              

When in doubt, pick both.

Both?                                                                                        

Both.

Damn, Nesta, I didn’t realize how savage you are.

A couple moments later, another text came in.

Both is good.

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

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[abrakophile]

I was looking through a bunch of junk and found some letters from my dad when he was in the army. I’m afraid I'll accidently toss them, so maybe I’ll put them here?

OPs Name JUNE 02 03

I LOVE YOU

THIS IS MY NAME IN KURDISH

*my dad wrote his first and last name, and under it, in Kurdish*

ILL TRY AND FIND OUT HOW TO WRITE YOUR NAME AND MOMS TOO.

ITS STILL HOT. I WORK AND READ BOOKS TO PASS THE TIME AWAY.

HOW ARE YOU DOING? GOOD I HOPE. WHAT DO YOU DO FOR FUN? DO YOU EVER HANG OUT WITH YOUR FRIENDS? TELL THEM I SAID ��WASSUP?” NAH, DONT TELL THEM. TELL ME WHAT YOUR THINKING. I’M TRYING TO SEND YOU SOME MORE OF MY DRAWINGS. WHAT DO YOU WANT ME TO DRAW YOU? DID YOU LIKE THE DRAWING I SENT YOU OF YOU NAME? ITS ALRIGHT IF YOU DIDNY. JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU DO WANT ME TO DRAW YOU.

(Flip Page)

THIS IS WEIRD! (The page does not have lines on the left side of it) i WONDER WHAT HAPPENED TO THIS PIECE OF PAPER. HaHa

I MISS YOU ALOT. PLEASE SOND ME SOME MORE OF YOUR DRAWINGS, YOU CAN DRAW ME ANYTHING YOU WANT TO.

ARE YOU BEING GOOD FOR YOUR MOM? ITS NICE IF YOU HELP HER OUT WHILE I’M AWAY.

HAVE YOU BEEN ANYPLACE NEW? HOW IS SCHOOL GOING FOR YOU? IS MOMMY GOING TO SCHOOL? I KNOW I WANT TO GO TO SCHOOL WHEN I GET BACK. HOPEFULLY I GET THE CHANCE TO LEARN EVERYTHING THAT THERE IS TO KNOW. THAT WOULD BE GREAT.

ALSO, ID LIKE TO DO SOME FISHING? HOW ABOUT YOU? I GUESS ILL END HERE. BE GOOD AND STAY IN SCHOOL. AND JUST SAY NO TO DRUGS.

THEYRE BAD.

I LIVE YOU OP

*hearts and x’s* DADDY

---

(I don’t know if all these pages are in order or if it’s missing any, but this was the letter in the same stack as the last but this one was for my mom. In some places his indents indicate passage of time.)

I HAVENT HAD ANY TIME TO WRITE SINCE WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD, NOT TO MENTION THAT WE CAN’T SEND MAIL WHEN WE’RE MOVING ALL THE TIME.

WEVE BEEN ON THE ROAD FOR ABOUT FIVE OR SIX DAYS, I HAVENT REALLY BEEN COUNTING. I KNOW I TOLD YOU THAT WE’D BE IN KUWAIT FOR A WHILE, BUT THAT WAS SO YOU WOULDNT BE WORRIED. I’M GOING TO KEEP THIS LETTER THOUGH, TILL I GET HOME.

ABOUT TWO NIGHTS AGO, WE DROVE THROUGH BAGDHAD, SOMEBODY SAID THAT THERE WERE PILED BODIES, I DONT KNOW IF IT WAS TRUE.

AND I GUESS YESTERDAY, A COUPLE OF PEOPLE SAID THEY SAW A MISSILE OR SOEMTHING SHOT AT US. I WAS TRYING TO FIX A TRUCK SO I DIDNT SEE IT.

ITS NOT AS DUSTY HERE IN IRAQ. IT REMINDS ME OF THE CONVOYS IN KOREA.

MOST OF THE PEOPLE WILL WAVE “HI”. SOME OTHERS DONT.

I SAW A KID OPEN HIS HAND ONCE WHILE MOVING, AND IT SAID “BUSH” THAT WAS KIND OF COOL.

OH YEAH. HERES A STORY. WHILE OUT DOING A MISSION, ONE OF OUR “BRADLEY” TANKS FIRED ON AN ENEMY AMMO TRUCK AND CLIPPED A KID. THE ROUNDS BLEW ONE OF HIS LEGS OFF AND SOME OF THE OTHER, FROM THE KNEE DOWN. SO THE MEDICS PICKED HIM UP AND BROUGHT HIM TO OUR RECONCOLIDATING POINT FOR MEDICAL TREATMENT. I GUESS HE EVENTUALLY DIED FROM LOSS OF BLOOD THE NEXT NIGHT AND YESTERDAY THEY TOOK HIM OUT AND BURIED HIM.

ALSO WE PICKED UP ABOUT 25-30 P.O.W.s AND SENT THEM SOUTH.

IT GETS PRETTY COLD AT NIGHT. AND THE DAY’S ARE VERY HOT.

SINCE WE LEFT KUWAIT ITS BEEN ME AND MENDOZA IN THE FIVE TON WRECKER AND I HAVE TO ADMIT THAT ITS BEEN EXCITING. WE KEPT GETTING SEPERATED FROM THE CONVOY AND BREAKING DOWN. BUT I THINK THAT WERE BETTER NOW. HOPEFULLY.

IM STILL WAITING TO BE AMBUSHED TO MAKE ALL THIS SEEM REAL TO ME. A PART OF ME WANTS IT AND ANOTHER DOESNT.

AND IT SEEMS LIKE ONLY OUR UNIT HAS TO STAY IN UNIFORM, EVERYONE ELSE WEARS T-SHIRTS AND BANDENA’S AND RAGS ON THEIR HEAD

WERE STILL GOING NORTH. NOBODY KNOWS HOW LONG WE’LL STAY. ITS NOT THAT BAD HERE. MEANING, IT COULD BE WORSE. 

I USED A “SHIT-CHAIR”. ITS JUST A METAL CHAIR WITH A HOLE CUT IN THE MIDDLE AND THE SEAT FROM A TOILET BOLTED TO IT, GROSS.

HELICOPTERS CAN BE HEARD ALL DAY AND NIGHT. I GOT TO SEE THEM DROP BOMBS ALL DAY ABOUT 3 DAYS AGO, FROM A DISTANCE OF COURSE.

ILL BE DRIVING AGAIN, IN A MINUTE. PROBABLY RE-FUEL AND BACK ON THE ROAD AGAIN. IM ENJOYING IT.

I HAVE 8 MAGAZINES FULL OF ROUNDS. NO GRENADES, BUT I LIKE IT LIKE THAT.

SOMETIMES IT SMELLS LIKE SHIT.

I GUESS ILL END IT HERE FOR NOW

I LOVE YOU AND MISS YOU TWO TWICE IF NOT THRICE AS MUCH AS YOU MIGHT MISS ME TOO.

HELLO AGAIN. WERE SOMEWHERE NEAR TIKRI + MOSUL. YESTERDAY, ME + MENDOZA WENT LOOKING FOR MOMENTO’S. WE BROKE A LOCK TO A NEAR BY BUNKER AND FOUND 6 A.K.47s! BUT ON OUR WAY BACK TO TURN THEM IN, MAJOR TATU GOT THEM FROM US. I WAS SO PISSED. BUT I GOT A GAS MASK w/ FILTER, A FULL MAGAZINE CLIP FROM ONE OF THE A.K.s AND A BERET WITH IRAQ 1 RANK ON IT.

I MADE A STENCIL FOR THE TRUCK WERE RIDING IN. ITS CALLED THE “GAMBLER.” YESTERDAY MENDOZA DROVE, SO TODAY ILL BE DRIVING.

IM NOT POSITIVE, BUT, I THINK WERE GOING TO TURKEY. NIETO SAYS THAT HE OVERHEARD SOMEBODY FROM S1 (or SI, I’m not sure) SAYING WE MIGHT GET PAID EXTRA FOR GOING THROUGH BAGHDAD.

I THINK NIETO’S MAD AT ME. CANT EXPLAIN WHY. MAYBE ITS BECAUSE IM RIDING WITH MENDOZA AND HE DOESNT LIKE MENDOZA TOO MUCH. OH WELL, WHATEVER REASON, HOPE THINGS GET NORMAL AGAIN. HAVE TO GO,

*hearts and xs*

TODAY IS THE 25th OF APRIL, I RECEIVED FIVE OR SIX (OR SEVEN) LETTERS YESTERDAY. THE LATEST WAS DATED 07 OF APRIL. THAT TELLS ME THAT ITS GOING TO TAKE A WHILE TO COMMUNICATE.

WE HAVENT RECEIVED MAIL BECAUSE WEVE BEEN MOVING NEVER STAYING IN ONE PLACE MORE THAN A DAY, OR TWO, UNTIL NOW. WE’VE BEEN IN THIS SPOT GOING ON FOUR DAYS TOMORROW?!

GIVE ME A MINUTE...

FOR THE LAST COUPLE OF DAYS IVE BEEN HELPING MENDOZA PULL THE ENGINE OUT OF A 5 TON TRUCK AND SWITCH IT w/ ANOTHER ONE. IT WOULD HAVE BEEN EASY BUT THE FLY WHEEL SEIZED UP INSIDE THE BELL HOUSING. ITS FINISHED NOW AND THE RUMOR IS WE’RE LEAVING  (OR MOVING) AGAIN TOMORROW.

ITS 10:33 THURSDAY MORNING. YOUR TIME IS 12:32 JUST TURNING THURSDAY.

I ALMOST CRYED WHEN I SAW ELIS PICTURE. I REALLY MISS BOTH OF YOU. LET ME BACK TO BEFORE I GOT DISTRACTED. I HAVENT BEEN ABLE TO SEND MAIL BECAUSE WE’VE BEEN MOVING. BUT I GUESS THAT WHATEVER THREAT THERE WAS (IF ANY), ISNT SO THREATFUL ANYMORE, WE CAN START RECEIVING AND SENDING MAIL. NO PHONE TO CALL FROM, AND NO INTERNET TO E-MAIL FROM.

THE WHOLE UNIT IS SCATTERED, SO EVEN IF I GET WHAT YOU NEED IT’LL TAKE FOREVER TO GET IT TO YOU. LET ME PULL THOSE LETTERS BACK OUT. OH WAIT. I DID LAUNDRY AND SOME UNDERWEAR THATS DRY, FELT HARD, OH WELL, WAIT A SECOND, K

I HAD TO FOLD SOME T-SHIRTS. ALL MY SOCKS ARE STILL DAMP. 

YOU CAN USE MY CONTRACT TO SHOW THAT I ENLISTED IN TEXAS AND HOWS THIS

*On a separate sheet my dad wrote a detailed note for my mom to give to someone to confirm that he did want to buy a house. He writes “I AM ALIVE AND WELL.” and “PLEASE ACCEPT THIS PAPER”, then he signed it with his scribble signature, and underneath it wrote his name in print and added “1st SQUADRON 10th CAVALRY HEADQUARTERS TROOP (I have no clue what this means)*

HOW’S THAT? HOPE I SPELLED EVERYTHING CORRECTLY. IM ALMOST READY WITH A DESIGN TO COVER THE OTHER TATTOOS ON MY LEFT FOREARM.

I JUST FINISHED LOOKING OVER ALL THOSE LETTERS YOU SENT FOR ME

IM BACK! I GOT SLEEPY SO I TRYED TO LAY DOWN FOR A LITTLE BIT. NO SLEEP. I DONT THINK. I DIDNT HAVE ENOUGH WATER TO WASH MY DCV’S AND A PAIR OF BDV’S. BESIDES FOR DRINKING WATER, BUT WE HAVE TO CONSERVE IT.

LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THE RUMORS. TOMORROW WE’LL BE LEAVING FOR THE IRAN/IRAQ BORDER TO DO “PEACE KEEPING” FOR 3 TO 6 mths. OTHERS SAY THAT THE 4ID (i think is what this says) GENERAL WANTS TO KEEP US HERE TILL NOV., THATS WHEN 1 CAV WILL COME TO REPLACE US. WHILE OTHERS SAY WE MIGHT LEAVE BY JUNE. NOTHINGS FOR SURE.

SMALLER RUMORS FLOATING AROUND THE SITE ARE; RAMSEY AND SFC BACON ARE SLEEPING TOGETHER. SGT SIREK HAS PLANS TO TAKE NIETO AS HIS APPRENTICE AND PADIWAN LEARNER OF THE DARK SIDE. LITTLE BLACK ARNOLD IS MILITARY INTELLIGENCE FOR SPECIAL FORCES OPERATING UNDER COVER A SURVEILLENCE AS PART OF

*the rest of the page is blank*

IM BACK. TODAY IS THE 27th. I GOT BACK TO THE LITTLE CAMP AREA ABOUT AN HOUR AND A HALF AGO. I LEFT YESTERDAY MORNING TO, WELL, AS PART OF DE-CON (DE-CONTAMINATION) MISSION. HERES THE INFORMATION THAT I GATHERED.

A SITE HAD BEEN FOUND THAT WAS THOUGHT TO HAVE CHEMICAL WEAPONS AND 1-10 WAS APPOINTED TO GO TO THE SITE AND DE-CON THE CIVILIANS THAT WERE GOING TO OPEN THEM. AS IT TURNS OUT THE CIVILIANS HAVE BEEN DE-LAYED AND WOULD BE SET BACK 1 DAY.

THE NBC TEAM THAT I WAS WITH WERENT PREPARED TO STAY OVER NIGHT AND AS FORCASTED BY SSG MINOR WE MIGHT HAVE HAD TO STAY 3 TO 4 DAYS. EVERYBODY WAS PISSED.

LATELY ITS BEEN GETTING REALLY COLD AT NIGHT AND WE JUST HAPPENED TO BE NEAR A RUNNING RIVER. SO THE, ITS ABOUT 9 O’CLOCK AND IM BEAT, NO SLEEPING BAG OR ANYTHING TO COVER UP WITH AND I DECIDE TO TRY AND SLEEP. I GET AS COMFORTABLE AS POSSIBLE AND I GET ATTACKED BY MOSQUITOS. NOW IM PISSED SO I DECIDED TO JUST TO STAY UP ALL NIGHT. ABOUT 10PM ONE OF THE HEMTT (this might just say “hemi”, I don’t know) FUELERS SHOWS UP AND SGT TORRES SAYS HE HAS EVERYBODYS SLEEPING BAG! THE SITES ABOUT 45 MINS AWAY AND THEY LEFT SOMETIME MID AFTERNOON TO GET OUR SHIT, I HATE THESE PEOPLE.

RIGHT NOW ITS 9:01 PM AND ITS 11:02 AM YOUR TIME. I MISS YOU.

RIGHT NOW IM GOING TO ADDRESS AN ENVELOPE AND HAVE IT READY TO SEND TOMMOROW THE 28th. IM SORRY IF IT SEEMS THAT IM NOT WRITING VERY OFTEN. FOR A WHILE WE COULDN’T. AND NOW THAT IT SEEMS WE MIGHT BE HERE A LITTLE WHILE, THEYVE KEPT ME REALLY BUSY. LET ME ADDRESS THE ENVELOPES (he drew a star here)

ALL DONE. I THOUGHT ABOUT THE HOUSE A LOT TODAY AND YESTERDAY. IM SURE BY THE TIME THIS LETTER REACHES YOU, YOU’LL HAVE EITHER GOTTEN IT OR GAVE IT UP. IM O.K. WITH EITHER DECISION YOUVE MADE.

YOUVE KEPT THIS FAMILY TOGETHER, AND THAT MAKES ME PROUD. YOUR SMART, ATTRACTIVE AND FUNNY. AND YOU DONT TAKE ANY SHIT FROM ANYBODY. I LOVE YOU.

I HOPE THAT OUR DAUGHTER TURNS OUT TO BE LIKE YOU.

I GUESS ILL MAIL THIS TOMORROW, FIRST THING, SO

EVER YOURS

EVER MINE

*my dad signed it with his scribble, and wrote his name under it. under that are hearts and x’s with my mom’s name and then my name under hers.*

[iwritesickfic]

perfect, part 1

“You don’t look well,” Bo says, and Dell waves a hand in dismissal.

“I look fine.” he slides into the car next to the younger man and the driver starts off before the door is even closed.

“Ok, you look fine, but I can tell...” He trails off, and Dell laughs softly. Even under the weather he looks lovely. It’d be very hard to tell if you didn’t see him everyday, but because he does, Bo notices every bit that’s off. he’s considerably paler, and his eyes are red rimmed like they are when he hasn’t gotten any sleep. His lips are chapped, and the way he keeps touching his septum with his knuckle is evidence something’s wrong.

All that said, he looks otherwise immaculate. His shirt is ironed and crisp as normal, his curls are brushed the way they always are, he’s clean shaven and obnoxiously punctual.

“What can you tell?” He asks, teasing, and Bo sighs, glancing again at the driver. He lowers his voice.

“That you’re ill.” Dell smirks.

“And what does my being ill matter?” He doesn’t bother lowering his voice. Bo sighs.

“It matters because you probably need some rest and some tea and a day off instead of running around-” Dell cuts him short.

“Do I have time for a day off?” Bo frowns. They absolutely don’t. It’s been only a few weeks since Dell’s mother, reigning queen of their tiny, forgotten, european country announced her decision to step down. Which meant Dell, the royal family’s only son, would be king. And for Bo, the personal assistant hired by his mother, meant an extreme uptick in the amount of things he needed to manage per day. 

“We could -”

“Don’t say we could work something out. We can’t work something out. This week is busy and we’re not cancelling everything just because you’re under the impression I have a cold.” Dell seems completely unwilling to keep the conversation between just the two of them, so Bo stops keeping his voice low.

“I’m under the impression?”

“Have I said I don’t feel well?” Bo sighs.

“No.”

“So it remains to be seen.” 

The truth is that Dell doesn’t need an assistant. At least not one that rides with him to appointments and is constantly within five feet. Dell needs someone who will answer his emails, not someone to babysit him. Especially not someone a year and half younger. He’s been cordial but it’s clear he doesn’t really enjoy Bo’s presence. He’s not condescending or anything, he just seems to get a lot of fun out of joking and teasing and sarcasm.

“Just trying to be nice,” Bo says, and Dell gives an almost sad smile.

“Your job isn’t to be nice to me or ask if I’m ill, Bowen. It’s to make sure I get to the places I need to be to do my job. The concern is very kind but it’s not necessary.”

Bo wants to argue, but he won’t. He’s not concerned because he thinks it’s necessary. He’s concerned because over the past two months he’s grown to actually care about him. He won’t say that though, because though Dell would probably just find it funny there’s a major possibility that someone up the chain of command would find it unprofessional. Also, he doesn’t need to give Dell any more ammunition for teasing.

So, they go about the day as normal, Dell being his normally charming self through meetings and lunch and meetings and dinner while Bo sits a few feet to the left, taking notes or answering emails or trying to look occupied. The most awkward hour of the day is when Bo is forced to sit in on Dell’s meal with his girlfriend. He’s seated a table away, but it doesn’t change the fact that it’s still Bo’s job to eavesdrop on them.

By the end of the day, back in the car to the palace, Dell looks considerably worse. As much as he can look worse. He’s started to sniffle, and he’s definitely more pale than he was this morning. The most worrisome thing is that he’s started to shiver. Bo doesn’t mention it.

They part ways, Bo headed to his small apartment on the palace grounds, Dell headed to a likely gorgeous private wing decorated with art that costs more than Bo’s salary.

The next morning Dell looks worse - his eyes are still bleary, and even in a thick sweater he’s shivering. His nose is a little pink, and he’s carrying a travel packet of tissues when he climbs into the car. It’s a rainy March morning, warm enough to keep snow at bay but cold enough to be unpleasant.

“Should I -” Dell cuts him off, his voice sounding a bit deeper and raspier than normal.

“No, it’s fine. I can manage.” He gives the younger man one of signature charming smiles and Bo feels something in his chest melt a little bit. He tries to shove it down. He should not feel this way about his boss. His straight, taken, totally-out-of-his-league boss. Still, Dell seems to sense his nerves. “Something’s wrong?” He asks, still smirking. Bo feels his cheeks heat.

“No, nothing.” He forces a little smile before burying his face back into his phone, pretending to write an email. 

“What’s on the schedule?” Bo’s grateful to have something concrete to focus on.

“Uh, the garden dedication. Oh, shit.” Dell standing out in the cold drizzle for an hour and a half is not going to be good. They’ve got umbrellas but the cold is bad enough on its own. “We could try -”

“It’s ok,” he gestures to his coat and scarf, “I’m prepared for it.”

“But...” Bo bites his lip.

“You’re worried I’ll catch my death?” Dell teases, and Bo rolls his eyes.

“That’d be a blessing.”

“Then who would bother you all day?”

“I’m sure you’d find a way.

“Right I would.”

Despite all of Dell’s protests, after about five minutes of standing outside for the ceremony he looks miserable. At least Bo can tell he’s miserable. To anyone else he probably looks fairly normal, apart from constantly wiping his nose. It’s baffling how everything he does he manages to make look polite and charming and sophisticated. 

When the event is over, Bo can see the relief in Dell’s entire posture. That is until his mother approaches them.

“Bowen we won’t be needing you for the rest of the day. Consider it some paid time off.”

Bo’s eyebrows furrow but before he can say anything Dell speaks up.

“Why is that?” He seems tense again, though Bo isn’t sure why. Truthfully he’d much rather spend a day following Dell around than home alone watching television, even more so because it’s clear Dell’s walking the line between a cold and something worse. And Bo is well aware no one but him gives a damn about how Dell actually feels. 

“There’s no need, you’ll be with us the rest of the day.”

Dell looks like he wants to argue but he just gives a polite smile. He gives Bo a little nod.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.”

Bo hesitates, he wants to object, wants to insist he stay, but he doesn’t. He just nods and takes the car back to the palace, changing out of his semi-damp clothes and into some sweats. The rest of the day passes slowly, and he decides that at 8:30, he’s going to Dell’s room with some tea. He shouldn’t be so worried, but he is, and the only way to get his mind to stop racing is just to confirm that Dell is in fact doing just fine.

At 8:25 he grabs the thermos of tea and sets off toward Dell’s bedroom. He’s been here a few times, mostly on mornings when they can’t wait until they get in the car to talk logistics, but never for any kind of personal reason. He’s not really sure if it’s allowed, but he’ll take the chance.

When he finally arrives to the door it takes him a minute to gather the courage to knock. The door opens slowly to reveal Dell in an oversized t shirt and boxers, flushed and shimmering with sweat, his curls stringy and limp. Bo’s never even seen him in a shirt without buttons, let alone boxers and a t shirt. The room is freezing, Bo can feel it seeping out into the hallway. Dell looks mildly confused, his eyes half lidded.

“Is there something we need to talk about?” His voice is hoarse and broken in places, some of the sounds rounded from congestion. He sniffles wetly.

“No, I uh...” Bo is so taken aback he’s having a hard time formulating a sentence. “I brought some tea.” He holds it out sort of awkwardly, and Dell takes it, cracking a small smile. They stand there in silence for a few moments, and Bo swears he can see the older man swaying on his feet. One of his hands rests on the door frame.

“That’s all?” He asks, and the teasing tone in his voice is apparent. Evidently Dell is never ill enough to let Bo off the hook.

“Yeah, I guess. I mostly wanted to see how your cold was.”

“Worried about me?” He asks, still smiling, and Bo rolls his eyes. he’s about to reply when Dell breaks into a fit of coughs. They sound like they come from deep in his chest, like they hurt. By the time he’s done he’s trembling, all the color gone from his face. “Before you ask, yes, I feel awful.”

“Can I come in?” The words slip out before Bo has a chance to hold them back. Dell raises his eyebrows.

“You wanna come in?”

“Uh, no, I-um, I ju-” Bo mumbles before Dell cuts him off.

“No, it’s fine. Yeah, come in. Sorry, it’s a little bit much.”

Bo hesitantly steps inside and Dell closes the door. Bo’s never actually been inside any of the core royal family member’s suites. The lights are off and the curtains are drawn, but when Dell flips on a lamp Bo’s able to get a decent look.

the room is massive, and though the furniture looks undoubtedly expensive, it doesn’t look how Bo expected it to. It’s more modern and minimal than he anticipated. It doesn’t really match the aesthetics of the rest of the room - the marble floor, intricate wallpaper, fancy wood working all scream excess while all the furniture though obviously well made is understated.

There’s a sitting area with a television, a huge bed, and what appears to be an equally massive bathroom and closet. One of the windows is open, which explains the cold, and Dell waves him over to where he’s sitting on the couch. He sits gingerly, and Dell gives a weary smile. 

“Now you know how the other half lives.”

“That’s not why I wanted to come in.” Dell just raises his eyebrows. “I wanted to just uh, make sure you’re alright.” Dell sighs and rubs his eyes. He sniffles.

“We’ve got tomorrow off, I’ll be fine. Just need some sleep.” He sniffles again, and wipes his red tinged nose with a tissue. Bo’s heart is pounding. 

“You need more than sleep.” He has no idea where he’s getting all this courage. Dell smirks.

“And what do I need?”

“Well you’ve got a fever, clearly, and that cough sounds pretty bad. I don’t know if sleep will do it, especially considering the temperature in here.” Dell looks sort of impressed.

“You wanna look after me.” It’s not a question. Bo freezes.

“I mean...if you wanted somebody to -”

“Bowen, I’ll be honest with you.” Bo’s heart stops completely. “It’s been probably 15 years since I’ve had anyone look after me because I was sick. And even then, no one’s ever done it for free. And I’m pretty sure you know this isn’t part of your job. So my question is, why?”

A thousand thoughts are running through his head, but none of them seem quite right to say out loud. Because he has a desperate crush? Because he’s worried? Because his heart hurts thinking about him all alone sick as he is?

“I care about you. Even though you...hate me, I don’t wanna leave you all alone like this.” Dell laughs softly, and Bo feels his heart sink until he hears him speak.

“Why would you think I hate you?”

“It’s...it’s obvious.” Dell laughs again, this time breaking into a fit of coughs. 

“Christ, Bo.” He shakes his head and pushes his hair off his face. His hands are shaking. “I don’t have the energy or the lung capacity to talk about this right now.” He’s takes an unsteady breath. “Listen, I would be...I would be so fucking grateful if you wanted to look after me. If you wanted to.” 

For once, Bo doesn’t over think his answer.

“Of course I do.” Dell smiles and swallows hard.

“Thank you.” His voice is almost a whisper. Bo’s frozen for a few moments before he breaks their gaze.

“Have you taken anything?” Dell looks confused. “For the fever.”

“The fever?” Bo finally cracks a smile himself.

“I mean, I haven’t checked yet or anything but I think it’s safe to say you’ve got a fever.” He reaches out to test Dell’s forehead but pauses. “can I?”

“Go for it.”

The moment his palm connects with Dell’s overheated skin he winces. It’s worse than he was anticipating. The blonde is absolutely on fire. He tests his cheek, then again with the back of his hand. 

“Your hands are freezing,” Dell mumbles, and Bo wants to push his damp curls out of his eyes but he just pulls his hand back. Dell seems almost disappointed.

“No, you’ve got a fever, it just feels like it. I’ve gotta get a thermometer though to see what exactly we’re dealing with. What else is....what’s going on? Other than the cough.”

“Head hurts. My nose is a fucking mess, too.” Bo hasn’t seen very much but even still he knows what Dell’s talking about. It’s red, peeling a bit around the base of his nostrils, and every few moments he gives a wet sniffle.  

“Well you definitely need some ibuprofen. And water too, probably. And some tissues.”

“I think that’s a fair conclusion.” He shivers, and Bo gets up to close the window. 

“Alright, well I’ll just go back -” Dell cuts him off.

“No, no, I’ve got everything. In the bathroom,” he says, slumped further on the couch, still shivering. 

“Yeah?” Bo’s a bit surprised. It doesn’t seem like Dell would’ve ever had the need for a thermometer. Ibuprofen is a little easier to understand, but even then he can’t picture Dell ever needing any sort of help. Dell just nods, and Bo walks to the bathroom door, too aware of Dell’s eyes on him. He opens the medicine cabinet and though he’s not sure what he expected, it certainly wasn’t shelves of cold and flu remedies. Even more surprising is that they almost all look half-used.

“You getting lost in there?” Dell calls, and Bo snaps back to the current task, grabbing the thermometer and one of the few bottles of ibuprofen. When he steps back into the larger room, Dell’s slumped on the couch, wrapped in a heavy blanket.

Bo sits down on the coffee table in front of him and their knees touch. He fiddles with the thermometer for a moment before handing it to Dell, who places it under his tongue. 

“You’ve got a lot of stuff in there,” he says after a few awkward moments of silence and Dell gives a tired smirk. 

“Are you going to ask me about it or is that just an observation?” He says around the small device. Bo tries to backpedal.

“No, I’m - I was just...I wasn’t expecting it, that’s all.”

“And why not?” Dell seems to find it funny, making Bo nervous. 

“I don’t know, I guess -” Dell cuts him off.

“I don’t look like someone who gets sick very often?” He asks, and Bo swallows hard.

“Yeah, I mean I...” Bo tries to think of something that would indicate Dell’s lack of vulnerability. “You’re just always so perfect, I guess.” He almost regrets the words. Is it too obvious to call him perfect? The thermometer beeps before Dell can reply, and Bo’s glad. Well he’s glad until he sees the reading - 102.4. The worry must show on his face because Dell starts to speak.

“What is it?” His voice is so weary.

“102.4, that’s -” Dell cuts him off before he can finish.

“Not so bad. I could probably manage on my own if you don’t want to stay. I wouldn’t hold it against you,” he says, and while for a second Bo thinks it might be some weird guilt trip manipulation tactic, Dell looks completely genuine. Nonchalant even. Bo bites his lip, debating what his response should be. He’s pulled back to reality when Dell starts to sit up.

“Hey, it’s alright, what do you need?” He puts a hand on his shoulder, easing him back into the cushions. Dell looks confused.

“I was gonna grab some water,” he says, and Bo nods.

“Ok, just let me know I’ll get whatever you need.” He’s about to get up when he pauses. “Listen, if you were implying that you want me to leave, I definitely will, but trust me I wouldn’t be doing this if I didn’t want to be.”

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to work without pay,” he says, and Bo sighs.

“It’s not...I’m...” He doesn’t know how else to phrase it without just admitting he cares for him, and he decides it’s not the most pressing thing to address at the moment. “Whatever. Where’s -”

“The kitchen.” He nods toward an archway near the back of the room, and Bo nods. 

“Alright. I’ll be right back.” He’s already in the small - yet somehow still expensive looking - kitchen when he hears Dell speak again.

“You don’t need to tell me you’ll be right back. I can make the assumption,” he calls, and Bo smiles. He’s a little shocked when he opens the fridge. He was expecting it to be empty - the royal family has a chef on staff - but it’s got a decent supply. It’s healthy food too, which makes Bo smile a bit as well. It’s exactly what he’d expect from Dell, it’s the perfection that seeps into everything he touches. There’s no beer, no half-empty ketchup, no old take out containers or anything that could be considered “dessert”. Even in this place where presumably no one but Dell should ever be, everything is perfect. He grabs a bottle of water and walks back into the main room.

“You cook a lot?” he asks, and Dell nods, taking the bottle. He manages to open it even though his hands are shaking. “I wouldn’t have guessed.” He takes a small sip.

“I guess I’m just a surprising person, hm?” Bo’s almost totally distracted from the matter at hand, but when he gets a better look at Dell’s appearance, he feels a  small pang of worry in his chest. He’s really shivering, his cheeks are flushed and his breath is unsteady, his lips chapped from breathing through his mouth.

“Alright, time for ibuprofen.” He grabs the bottle and shakes two into his palm, passing them to Dell who downs them with a swig of water. He starts to cough right after, almost doubling over and burying his face in his sleeve. Bo’s anxious listening, they sound so desperate, trying so hard to expel the illness that sits so heavy in his chest, moving enough to make his cough sound deep and painful, but not enough to give any real relief. 

When he’s finally done he’s almost hyper ventilating trying to catch his breath, and Bo wishes there was something he could do more than just sit and watch. He places a careful hand on Dell’s shoulder and hands him back the water, which Dell drinks eagerly. He lets out a shaky little laugh.

“Sorry, that’s so gross,” he says, his voice still a bit raw from the coughing fit. Bo frowns.

“It’s not, don’t worry about that.” Dell seems to relax a little beneath his hand, closing his eyes, and Bo uses to other to feel his forehead. He probably should’ve asked first, but Dell doesn’t seem to mind, letting out a small contented sigh. He’s really burning, Bo thinks it’s probably safe to say this is the worst fever he’s ever felt. He pulls his hand away. “I’m gonna grab something,” he says, and Dell nods, eyes still closed.

He grabs a washcloth from the bathroom and soaks it in cold water. He wringing out the excess when he hears Dell’s voice.

“Are you coming right back? You didn’t specify.” 

“How can you be so sick and still have energy to tease me?” He asks, arriving back at the couch. He presses the washcloth to Dell’s forehead and he lets out a small sigh of relief, eyes fluttering shut.

“Fuck,” he breathes, and Bo moves it to the side of his throat. 

“I haven’t used one of these in forever,” he mumbles, and Bo furrows his eyebrows. 

“What do you mean?” He flips the compress over, laying the cool side back on his forehead. 

“They’re hard to use. You have to lay really still.” Bo decides it’s finally time to ask the question that’s been eating at him.

“You get sick a lot?” Dell opens his eyes, a little smile on his lips.

“What gave you that idea, Sherlock?” Bo gives an indignant laugh.

“I mean I thought so but, I don’t know, it seemed like a personal question.” Dell raises his eyebrows.

“Well I think it should be pretty obvious. Considering how much we see each other.”

“What?” Bo’s very confused now, and Dell looks surprised, but expression quickly changes to one of understanding.

“How many times have you seen me sick, Bo?” It sounds like a trick question.

“Once. Today. Or twice I guess if you count yesterday.” Dell rubs his eyes.

“Well my mother hired you in January, I believe, so that’s two months. In winter no less.” He stops a moment, as if he’s calculating. “I’ve honestly been sick more often than not, I just thought you knew.”

“What? No, of course I didn’t know. I never - fuck, Dell, I -” His heart feels like it’s breaking. Dell, on the other hand, looks sort of amused.

“It’s ok, really. I like you a little more now though to be honest. I always assumed you just didn’t give a shit, but -”

“Of course I do! I -” He stutters, trying to sift through his memories to find out how he missed this. He’s shocked into silence when Dell puts a hand on his shoulder, then on his cheek. His expression has softened.

“It’s ok. Really. I’ll admit I try not to let it interfere with anything, I guess it’s just obvious to me because I’m the one who feels like shit, but I guess it’s good to hear the facade is almost flawless. You noticed this morning, but I guess this is also an exceptionally shitty cold or flu or whatever.” He takes his hand back, and only then Bo registers how warm it was. He sets his jaw.

“Do you wanna sleep here or in bed?” Dell seems taken aback.

“Uh, bed, I guess?” Bo gives a quick nod and pulls him up, supporting him for the short distance. When he’s seated on the bed, Bo wordlessly starts to collect the thermometer, his water bottle, the extra blanket. When he gets back, he slides the thermometer under his tongue.

“What’s going on?” He says around the device, and Bo gives him a serious look.

“I’m making up for the last two months.”

[greatfay]

controversial opinions?

Cold pizza actually not good. Tastes like angry bacteria.

There’s a completely separate class of gay men who are in a different, rainbow-tinted plane of reality from the rest of us and I don’t like them. They push for “acceptance” via commercialization of the Pride movement, assimilation through over-exposure, and focus on sexualizing the movement to be “provocative” and writing annoying articles that reek of class privilege instead of something actually important like lgbtqa youth homelessness, job discrimination, and mental health awareness.

Coleslaw is good. You guys just suck in the kitchen.

Generational divides ARE real: a 16-year-old and a 60-year-old right now in 2021 could agree on every hot button sociopolitical topic and yet not even realize it because they communicate in entirely different ways.

Sam Wilson is a power bottom. No I will not elaborate.

Allison’s makeover in The Breakfast Club good, not bad. She kept literally and metaphorically dumping her trash out onto the table and it’s clearly a cry for help. Having the attention and affection of a smart, pretty girl doing her makeup for her was sweet and helped her open up to new experiences. Not every loner wants to BE a loner (see: Bender, who is fine being a lone wolf).

Movie/show recommendations that start with a detailed “representation” list read like status-effecting gear in an RPG and it’s actually a turn-off for me. I have to force myself to give something a try in spite of it.

Yelling at people to just “learn a new language” because clearly everyone who isn’t you and your immediate vicinity of friends must be a lazy ignorant white American is so fucking stupid, like I get it, you’re mad someone doesn’t immediately know how to pronounce your name or what something means. But I know 2 languages and am struggling with a 3rd when I can between 2 jobs and quite frankly, I don’t have the time to just absorb the entire kanji system into my brain to learn Japanese by tomorrow night, or suddenly learn Arabic or Welsh. There are 6500 recorded languages in the world, what’s the chance that one of 3 I’ve learn(ed?) is the one you’re yelling at me about. Yes this is referring to that post yelling at people for not knowing how to pronounce obscure Irish names and words. Sometimes just explaining something instead of admonishing people for not knowing something inherently in the belief that everyone must be lazy entitled privileged people is uh... better?

Stop fucking yelling at people. I despise feeling like someone is yelling at me or scolding me, it triggers my Violence Mode, you don’t run me, you are not God, fuck off. Worst fucking way to "educate” people, it just feels good in the moment to say or write and doesn’t help. Yes I’ve done it before.

Violence is good actually.

Characters doing bad things ≠ an endorsement of bad things. Characters doing bad things that are unquestioned by the entire rest of the cast = endorsement of bad things, or at the least, a power fantasy by the creator. See: Glee, in which Sue’s awfulness is constantly called out, while Mr. Shue’s awfulness rarely is because he’s “the hero.” See also: the Lightbringer series, in which the protagonist is a violent manipulator who is praised as clever, charming, diplomatic, and genius by every supporting character (enemies included), despite the text never demonstrating such.

Euphoria is good, actually. It falls into this niche of the past decade of “dark gritty teen shows” but actually has substance behind it, but the general vibe I get from passive-aggressive tumblr posts from casual viewers is that this show is The Devil, and the criticism of its racier content screams pearl-clutching “what about the children??” to me.

Describing all diagnosed psychopaths as violent criminals is a damaging slippery slope, sure. But I won’t be mad at anyone for inherently distrusting another human who does not have the ability to feel guilt and remorse, empathy, is a pathological liar, or proves to be cunning and manipulative.

It’s actually not easy to unconditionally support and love everyone everywhere when you’ve actually experienced the World. Your perspective and values will be challenged as you encounter difficult people, experience hardship, are torn between conflicting ideas and commitments, and fail. My vow to never ever call the cops on another black person was challenged when an employee’s boyfriend marched into the kitchen OF AN ESTABLISHMENT to scream at her, in a BUSINESS I MANAGED, and threaten to BEAT the SHIT out of her. Turns out I can hate cops and hate that motherfucker equally, I am more than capable of both.

Defending makeup culture bad, actually. Enjoy it, experiment, master it, but don’t paint it as something other than upholding exactly what they want from you. Even using makeup to “defy the heteropatriarchal oppressors!” is still putting cash in their pockets, no matter how camp...

Not every villain needs to be redeemed, some of you just never outgrew projecting yourself onto monsters and killers.

Writing teams and networks queerbaiting is not the same as individuals queerbaiting. Nick Jonas performing exclusively at gay clubs to generate an audience really isn’t criminal; if they paid to go see him, that’s on them, he didn’t promise anyone anything other than music and a show. Do not paint this as similar to wealthy, bigoted executives and writing teams trying to snatch up the LGBTQA demographic with vague ass marketing and manipulative screenplays, only to cop out so as not to alienate their conservative audiences. And ESPECIALLY when the artists/actors/creators accused of queerbaiting or lezploitation then come out as queer in some form later on.

Queer is not a bad word, and I’ve no clue how that remains one of few words hurled at LGBTQA people that can’t be reclaimed. It’s so archaic and underused at this point that I don’t get the reaction to it compared to others.

People who defend grown-woman Lorelai Gilmore’s childish actions and in the same breath heavily criticize teenage religious abuse victim Lane Kim’s actions are not to be trusted. Also Lane deserved better.

Keep your realism out of my media, or at least make it tonally consistent. Tired of shows and movies and books where some gritty, dark shit comes out of nowhere when the narrative was relatively Romantic beforehand.

Actually people should be writing characters different from themselves, this new wave in the past year of “If you aren’t [X] you shouldn’t be writing [X]” is a complete leap backward from the 2010s media diversity movement. And if [X] has to do with an invisible minority status (not immediately visible disabilities, or diverse sexual orientations and gender identities, persecuted religious affiliations, mental illness) it’s actually quite fucked up to assume the creator can’t be whatever [X] is or to demand receipts or details of someone’s personal life to then grant them “permission” to create something. I know, we’re upset an actual gay actor wasn’t casted to play this gay character, so let’s give them shit about it: and not lose a wink of sleep when 2 years later, this very actor comes out and gives a detailed account of the pressure to stay closeted if they wanted success in Hollywood.

Projecting an actor’s personal romantic life and gender identity onto the characters they play is actually many levels of fucked up, and not cute or funny. See: reinterpreting every character Elliot Page has played through a sapphic lens, and insulting his ability to play straight characters while straight actors play actual caricatures of us (See also: Jared Leto. Fuck him).

I’m fucking sick of DaBaby, he sucks. “I shot somebody, she suck my peepee” that’s 90% of whatever he raps about.

“Political Correctness” is not new. It was, at one point, unacceptable to walk into a fine establishment and inform the proprietor that you love a nice firm pair of tits in your face. 60 years ago, such a statement would get you throw out and possibly arrested under suspicion of public intoxication. But then something happened and I blame Woodstock and Nixon. And now I have to explain to a man 40 years my senior that no, you can’t casually mention to the staff here, many of whom are children, how you haven’t had a good fuck in a while. And then rant about the “Chinese who gave us the virus.” Can’t be that upset with them if you then refused to wear your mask for 20 minutes.

Triggering content should not have a blanket ban; trigger warnings are enough, and those who campaign otherwise need to understand the difference between helping people and taking away their agency. 13 Reasons Why inspired this one. Absolutely shitty show, sure, but it’s a choice to watch it knowing exactly what it contains.

Sasuke’s not a fucking INTJ, he’s an ISFP whose every decision is based off in-the-moment feelings and proves incapable of detailed and logical planning to accomplish his larger goals.

MCU critique manages to be both spot-on and pointless. Amazing stories have been told with these characters over the course of decades; but most of it is toilet paper. Expecting a Marvel movie to be a deeply detailed examination of American nationalism and imperialism painted with a colorful gauze of avant-garde film technique is like expecting filet mignon from McDonalds. Scarf down your quarter pounder or gtfo.

Disparagingly comparing the popularity and (marginal) success of BLM to another movement is anti-black. It is not only possible but also easy to ask for people’s support without throwing in “you all supported BLM for black people but won’t show support for [insert group]” how about you keep our name out your mouth? Black people owe the rest of the world nothing tbh until yall root out the anti-blackness in your own communities.

It is the personal demon/tragic flaw of every cis gay/bi/pan man to externalize and exorcize Shame: I’m talking about the innate compulsion to Shame, especially in the name of Pride and Progress. Shame for socioeconomic “success,” shame for status of outness, shame for fitness and health, shame for looks, shame for style and dress, shame for how one fits into the gender binary, shame for sexual positions and intimacy preferences, shame for fucking music tastes. Put down the weapon that They used to beat you. Becoming the Beater is not growth, it’s the worst-case scenario.

Works by minorities do not have to be focused on their marginalized identities. Some ladies want to ride dragons AND other ladies. The pressure on minorities to create the Next Great Minority Character Study that will inevitably get snuffed at the Oscars/Peabody Awards is some bullshit when straight white dudes walk around shitting out mediocre screenplays and books.

Canadians can stfu about how the US is handling COVID-19 actually. Love most of yall, but the number of Canadian snowbirds on vacation (VACATION??? VA.CAT.ION.) in the supposed “hotbed” of my region that I’ve had to inform our mask policies and social distancing to is ASTOUNDING. Incroyable! I guess your country has a sizable population of entitled, privileged, inconsiderate, wealthy, and ignorant people making things difficult for everyone, just like mine :)

No trick to eliminate glasses fog while wearing my mask has worked, not a single one, it actually has affected my job and work speed and is incredibly frustrating, and I have to deal with it and pretend it’s not a problem while still encouraging others to follow the rules for everyone’s safety and the cognitive dissonance is driving me insane.

It’s really really really not anti-Japanese... to be uncomfortable with the rampant pedophilia in manga and anime, and voice this. I really can’t compare western animation’s sneakier bullshit with pantyshots of a 12-year-old girl.

Most of the people in the cottagecore aesthetic/tag have zero interest in all the hard work that comes with maintaining an isolated property in the countryside, milking cows and tending crops before sunrise, etc. And that’s okay? They just like flowers and pretty pottery and homemade pastries. Idk where discourse about this came from.

You think mint chip ice-cream tastes like toothpaste because you’re missing a receptor that can distinguish the flavors, and that sucks for you. It’s a sort of “taste-blindness” that can make gum spicy to some while others can eat a ghost pepper without crying.

Being a spectacle for the oppressive class doesn’t make them respect us, it makes them unafraid of us. This means they continue to devour us, but without fear of our retaliation.

Only like 4 people on tumblr dot com are actually prepared for the full ramifications of an actual revolution. The rest of you just really imprinted onto Katniss, or grew up in the suburbs.

Straight crushes are normal. They’re people first, sexual orientation second. Can’t always know.

The road to body positivity is not easy, especially if what you desire is what you aren’t.

You’re actually personally responsible for not voluntarily bringing yourself into an environment that you know is not fit for you unless you have the resolve to manage it. Can’t break a glass ceiling without getting a few cuts. This one’s a shoutout to my homophobic temp coworkers who decided working a venue with a drag show would be a good idea. This is also is a shoutout to people who want to make waves but are surprised when the boat tips. And also a shoutout to people who—wait that’s it’s own controversial opinion hold up.

Straight people can and should stay the fuck out of gay bars and queer spaces. “yoUrE bEInG diVisiVe” go fuck yourself.

[icantbraintoday-tryagainlater]

You are Expendable

You are a hard working individual Pride yourself on your work You show up early and stay late You never miss a meeting or an email “We are lucky to have you, You are such a great asset to the team. With everything you do, to show our gratitude We will fire you without question.” You work hard every day Put your heart and soul into the job You encourage your coworkers, teammates Take that overtime and bust your ass You don’t sleep, you think of what You can do better tomorrow Yet you are expendable. Your job does not need you You will be replaced by the end of the day. Your job does not value you, You are a commodity that can be replaced. Your skill is teachable, Your knowledge is common. The truth is you are expendable And they’ll replace you for their financial gain.

~*~*~*~*~*~

I should have known from the 1st day of training my job as a claim associate for a Big Name National Insurance Company that I would regret my decision to apply.

I should have known when within two days of training I was pulled to the side and written up. For my neighbor talking to me.

I should have known.

So this is all on me, I know, but I thought that this company would treat me right and it was only these two bitter old employees who were about to retire.

I was wrong. I was so wrong.

the first year was amazing! I met new friends, I was great at my job, I had the best manager in the world! I was surprised that I could like working in Insurance. I was being talked to about advancement, different areas of the company I would excel at, and the right path to follow to achieve my goals.

Then She came along. Covid hit, we were all sent home, and a brand new manager took over my team. I didn’t think much of it, because honestly? She seemed fine. She was new to managing, but not new to the job. My biggest critique then had just been how much time she seemed to take off. She was NEVER there. Every other day she was taking a partial day. She took long weekends, took weeks off at a time. It was weird to say the least. 

But then the snippy emails came. The bitchy remarks.

My team suffered GREATLY. We went from being one of the top performing teams to suddenly being at the bottom. And all of these Outliers Reports that we had never heard of started becoming this huge deal.

Literally never heard of these reports, and then one week we were all on them. And it was a BIG DEAL (TM). Then we were getting in trouble for being in the wrong call states (the call states we have been told to be in for specific situations since we were trained were suddenly the wrong call states).

All of this I was willing to just deal with. But then...

Then my mom got sick. I got a call from my father at around 1 or 2PM Thursday, November 19, 2020. My mom was going to the ER because they thought she was having a stroke. I told my boss I couldn’t be at work and left for the day. Found out that it was a tumor, possibly cancer. Within 2 weeks she was in surgery to remove the mass and we found out it was Glioblastoma. The worst brain cancer.

And my friends and family kept asking “Is your work understanding? Being accommodating?” And I couldn’t say they were. They were the complete opposite of understanding.

I fought for a while to make them understand and to just ask for simple accommodations only to be met with “If you can’t do your job then go home.”

Below is a letter I wrote to HR.

“To whom it may concern,

My name is ______, and I work as a claims representative in the Auto Property Claims, Express. I am writing to you today to bring up some issues I have recently run into with the way Express is run, and I would like to discuss these with you and hopefully find a solution so if someone else is ever in my position, they are treated better.

Specifically, I would like to discuss how I was treated when I found out my mother was diagnosed with brain cancer.

I received a call on my first break on Thursday, November 19th, from my father. He told me that my mother was on her way to the ER. I immediately IM’d my manager, *blacked out*, and requested to leave, as my father cannot take care of my mother alone since he is blind. She simply said that she logged me out, and I did not think anything of her short reply.

I came back to work on Monday, November 23rd, because I had no more PTO, despite still waiting for my mother’s MRIs to come back with the official diagnosis. She was diagnosed with a cancerous tumor on her brain.  I could not afford to take time off (and also welcomed a distraction), but knew I would not be much help on phones, so I asked for tasks and waited 40 minutes for a response.  However, She simply stated that it wasn't possible for me to do other tasks - that either I could answer calls and talk to customers while in crisis and crying or miss work and not get paid.

I understand there are rules and managers cannot change our schedules on a whim; however, it felt crass that she would not even discuss an alternative. In the past I know that myself and others have been given courtesy during extreme circumstances, so I had spoken with another team manager about it, and he told me he would speak with Jessica for me.

Right before close, however, I received a very snippy IM from Her stating the following: “Just so you know, I had spoken with my boss, *blocked*, about this. And she said we couldn’t do that. And you were logged out for 40 minutes earlier today so I took the liberty of changing your T2 for that as an Unscheduled PTO.”

Those 40 minutes were while I was waiting for her response and trying to get myself together after learning horribly devastating news. I also felt very attacked and that if I were to do anything that she did not like from now on that she would retaliate against me. I still feel as though she will retaliate against me just because I went to another manager with an issue that she did not appear to care about at all. 

She has also consistently been lacking in manager experience, as well. The most prominent example of this is that she will not (or possibly does not know how to) help with personal development, either within the company nor in my current job position. When she brings up any areas where I could do better, she simply tells me “do better,” and when I ask for advice on how to go about doing so because I feel as though I am doing all I can she simply tells me again “do better." I can provide examples if you would like.

I attempted to speak about this with HR, but they simply asked why I was upset that my manager was asking me to do my job. I felt isolated afterwards, and felt as though Big National Insurance Company in general does not care about their employees in the least. Our motto is Remarkable. But my experience during this tragic time of learning that my mother might not just have brain cancer, but may never regain control or strength of her left side (her dominant side) ever again, coupled with the fact that my father only went blind 3 years ago so I now have 2 disabled parents whom I may need to start taking care of on a regular basis, has been anything but remarkable

I was told to get CIGNA to look into ADA accommodations. However, I needed the accommodation immediately, and CIGNA can take weeks, if not months, to get established. In that moment I needed to know that I could do my job while also helping my family through this horribly difficult time, and I was told to jump through hoops like a circus animal and maybe I would still have a job after, but probably would not be paid for the time off. I could apply for the Employee Grant, but that’s not a guarantee, and I have to apply for it after I’ve already lost the pay. As I’m living paycheck to paycheck right now, that would mean I would probably be facing eviction by the time I would receive any assistance. 

Accommodations were simply thrown out the window and when my friends ask how I’m doing and if my job is being understanding, I cannot say that they are. Between the points system, which punishes you for being ill or having to care for family, and my boss’s cold, indifferent, and unsympathetic attitude towards me, I feel as though I am literally just a number, an expendable employee who is simply there to be a robot. 

As I stated at the beginning of this email, I would love the chance to discuss this with you to find a solution. So if anyone else is ever put in this position, they are treated with dignity, respect, and sympathy, rather than cold, unfeeling retaliation and robotic responses. So future employees do not have to jump through hoops in order to have simple and understandable accommodations made as they work on getting the rest lined up.

You can reach me at this email, my personal email *blocked*, or through text or calls at my cell number *blocked*. 

Thank you for your time and I hope to hear from you soon.

Sincerely,

*my name*

We had a lovely conversation with my boss, her boss, and a new HR rep. But did anything change? No. If anything, I started getting micromanaged even more.

There is so much more to the story than this, but I - I just don’t have the time or energy to type it up.

Maybe I will another day.

But in conclusion - I should have known. Shame on me for allowing myself to be fooled.

[worryinglyinnocent]

Fic: The Dead of Night

AU-gust Day Fourteen: Vampire AU Fandom: Stargate Universe Pairing: Nicholas Rush x Gloria Rush

Rated: T

Content Warning: Blood, vampirism, cancer mention.

Summary: Nick reflects on his and Gloria’s lives since she became a vampire to save her life.

Note: This uses the vampire mythos from the short-lived TV series Moonlight.

The Dead of Night

Nick waited until the last vestiges of sunlight had vanished beyond the horizon before closing the curtains and switching on the lights. He wasn’t surprised at how quickly he had made the transition to nocturnal activity; he’d never been one for consistent sleep patterns at the best of times, and Gloria’s long illness had just exacerbated that. Now it simply made sense for him to be awake when she was awake.

He made the ten-step journey down into the cellar, listening to the comforting hum of the chest freezer. His breath curled into mist as he opened it, and he had to smile at the sight that met him. One would have expected vampires to sleep ramrod straight with their arms crossed over their chests like in classic Hammer horror movies, but Gloria was curled up in the foetal position with one arm flung over her face just like she’d slept when she was alive.

Nick shook himself. Gloria was alive. Not in the same way as previously, perhaps, but alive, nonetheless.

He reached into the freezer and stroked her arm where it was covering her face.

“The sun’s down, Glo. Time to get up.”

Gloria gave a catlike hiss, swiping at his hand, and when she sat up and opened her eyes, Nick could see the irises pale and silvery, pupils like pinpricks. Her mouth curled up in a snarl, fangs fully out, and Nick stumbled backwards, his heart pounding. Even though he knew that Gloria would never attack him consciously, there was always that undercurrent of fear when she first woke up thirsty, and Nick hated it.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry.” Her face was human again now and looking very guilty, although her eyes were still too pale, and her fangs were still pinching her bottom lip. “I’m just thirsty.”

Nick went over to the fridge in the corner and took out a blood bag – prime A-negative. He brought it over to Gloria as she got out of the freezer and shut the lid, perching on it beside her as she drank.

“You’re running low.”

Gloria nodded. “I know. I’ll have to go and see my man at the hospital tonight. Do you think anyone notices all the blood bags going missing?”

“Well, if they do, I don’t think that they would suspect vampires.”

Up until a few months ago, Nick himself would have disputed the existence of vampires. There were times even now when he wondered if his and Gloria’s current lifestyle was all the result of an exhausted fever dream, and he would wake up in the hospital by her bedside, nothing having changed.

They had almost accepted fate. They had almost accepted that Gloria wasn’t going to survive her second battle with cancer and that she was entering her last days; they had almost accepted that she wasn’t going to leave the hospital. Almost, but not quite. Although neither of them had said anything, they were both hoping for a last-minute miracle, some kind of reprieve that would reach them against all the odds and save them from oncoming heartbreak. Nick was a firm believer in science to the exclusion of all else; he had never been a spiritual man and he did not pray for deliverance as Gloria did, but that didn’t stop him from hoping for something, anything, however inexplicable it might be.

That inexplicable reprieve had come at three in the morning on a moonless night. Nick wasn’t asleep. The chair beside Gloria’s bed was too uncomfortable for sleep at the best of times, and for the past few nights he had been scared to close his eyes in case Gloria slipped away whilst he was asleep.

“I can sleep when I’m dead,” he had muttered in response to her gentle chastising that he needed rest. Gloria had snorted.

“No, you can sleep when I’m dead.” The gallows humour had been funnier than it had any right to be.

On that fateful night, Gloria wasn’t asleep either. The chemo had messed up her circadian rhythm so much that night and day were all much of a muchness to her, and she slept when she could and stayed awake when she couldn’t.

The lights were off, and they were just looking at each other in the gloom when the porter had come in.

“I know a way to make it better,” he had said. “But it comes at a price.”

The subsequent conversation had lasted almost till daybreak, whereupon the porter had returned to his home in the cold morgue drawers and Nick and Gloria had been left wondering if the discussion had really just happened, if vampires really did exist and if one had just offered to save Gloria’s life.

It had been a difficult decision to come to, and not one taken lightly. Ultimately they both wanted more time together, even if that time would be spent in an eternally nocturnal world.

The first week after Gloria’s turning had been the worst. She was constantly thirsty, and the house was far too warm for her; in the end she’d had Nick lock her in the cellar to stop her going for his own throat out of insane greed. Since then, though, they’d settled into a now-familiar routine, and everything was almost the way it was before – aside from their life being conducted entirely under the cover of darkness.

Well. Almost everything. Nick sipped his coffee, watching Gloria slip away into the night to get her fix from the hospital, the cool box swinging ominously by her side.

Gloria was alive, and more than that – provided she stayed within her limits, she would never die. She was locked in time now, but he, Nick was moving onward. He was still going to lose her to time eventually. Before, she had not had enough time. Now, she had far too much. Or he had far too little.

He was still staring out of the window when she came back, the cool box obviously heavier. They would have to move soon before their strange habits attracted too much attention, but they had already been through so much upheaval over the past few months that neither of them could stomach the thought of more just yet.

“Hey.” Gloria came into the kitchen having deposited the blood safely in her fridge. “Have you been sitting here the whole time. It’s not like you to get lost in thought. Although…” She came and sat beside him, taking his hand in her much colder one. “You have been in a world of your own a lot more lately. What’s wrong, Nick? What are you thinking about?”

Nick sighed, squeezing her hand. “Me, you, us. The logistics of our life now.”

“I know it’s not exactly what we planned…” Gloria tailed off, leaving the rest of the sentence unsaid.

“I don’t regret it,” Nick said. “I’d rather have you alive like this than not alive at all. I’m just not sure that I thought through some of the implications at the time.”

“Like what?”

Their conversations on the topic had been fairly comprehensive, and Nick knew that they had discussed his current misgiving more than once. He just hadn’t paid it as much mind as he ought to have done.

He skirted Gloria’s question, looking her steadfastly in the eyes – now back to their usual colour, no trace of the eerily pale silver of her hunger.

“Glo, if I asked, would you turn me?”

Gloria looked at him for a long time, searching his face for something, although Nick did not know what she was looking for, nor whether she found it there.

“If that was what you truly wanted then yes, I would,” she said eventually. “I know where your train of thought is going, and don’t think that I don’t share it. Being gifted with so much time having had so little left, well, it alters your perception of it. I can’t get used to the inevitability of losing you now any more than you could get used to the inevitability of losing me before.”

Nick nodded. “I’ve been thinking about it a lot. I keep trying to talk myself out of it. Hell, I keep thinking that this is all just a strange kind of wishful thinking on my part and I’ll wake up and you’ll be back in the hospital. But when it comes down to it, I don’t know what I have to lose.”

“You do,” Gloria pointed out. “We went over it at great length and in great detail with William before he turned me.”

“Exactly. I know all that. I’ve seen you change. I’ve lived through these last few months with you, and I still can’t think why I wouldn’t want to spend the rest of, well, forever with you.”

Gloria brought his hand up to her lips, pressing a kiss to his knuckles.

“Ask me again tomorrow,” she whispered.

The routine continued for the next fortnight, a strange kind of Arabian Nights tale.

“Gloria, will you turn me?” “Ask me again tomorrow.”

“Yes.”

Her acquiescence was so sudden that Nick thought he had misheard her.

“You will?”

Gloria nodded. “I think you’ve stuck with the notion long enough to really want it. Are you ready?”

She brought his hand up to her lips again, this time hovering over the pulse point in his wrist. Nick could feel his heart pounding in his chest as he nodded.

The pain of her fangs sinking into his skin was sharp and blinding, like a lightning flash, and Nick gritted his teeth through it, squeezing his eyes tight shut. He felt warm wetness against his lips, and he knew that Gloria was offering her own blood to complete the transformation. Salty and metallic, he didn’t really notice the taste as he began to feel the change – veins stagnating, body cooling, the unquenchable hunger rising up…

“Nick, my love?”

He opened his eyes. In the darkness, suddenly everything seemed sharper. He was ridiculously thirsty, and he could feel the points of fangs, new and awkward, in his mouth. Gloria’s hands were warm in his for the first time in months.

“Hi, Glo.”

She smiled, and Nick smiled back. It might not be the best or easiest path they could have chosen, but they had each other, and they had forever, and that was enough.

[hookedontaronfics]

Better than medicine - Prompt fic

Title: Better than medicine Pairing: Taron x reader Rating: T Warnings: None really A/N: This is told from Taron’s perspective so it’s a bit of a different format for a reader fic, but I felt inspired to get in Taron’s head so there you go. Short but cute fluffy piece! Generated from the prompt below. Enjoy! x Prompt: Can I request the reader taking care of Taron when he's sick? This is for user @rikersgirl22​. - Hope it fits the bill and you enjoy this! 💖

The alarm went off far too early and I groaned as I rolled over and swatted the alarm a couple times before finding the button to turn the grinding sound off. I blinked blearily in the dark, trying to orient myself and smiling at my girlfriend’s sleeping form. How she hadn’t stirred, still resting sweetly through that incessant beeping, was beyond me, but she had hours before she had to be up for work so I swung my legs over the side and quietly slid off the bed, not wanting to wake her.

As soon as my feet hit the cold floor I shivered, and before I could even leave the room I sneezed, looking over my shoulder quickly but y/n still hadn’t stirred. I sniffled slightly before going to the bathroom, feeling a bit under the weather as I brushed my teeth quickly. But I had a series of important meetings today and I wasn’t about to miss them for a few sniffles.

I walked back into the bedroom and grabbed the clothes I’d set out the night before, pulling them on quickly before walking over to the bed and kissing my girlfriend sweetly on the forehead, her y/h/c hair splayed out across the pillow in the way I loved so much. She mewled softly in her sleep, making me smile gently in the semi-darkness, shafts of light starting to filter in through the curtains as the sun began to rise.

I made myself a cup of coffee, grateful for the automatic maker y/n had gifted me a couple of Christmases ago. I could not have asked for a better, more loving person to share my life with, and things had only gotten better and better. I’d asked her to move in with me 6 months ago, and our life together was nothing but laughter and joy. And I fully intended to make things official when the timing felt right.

With that thought I let myself out of the house, making my way across London and sitting through a few meetings, but as the day wore on I started having trouble focusing. My nose felt incredibly raw after having to wipe it every few minutes, and I couldn’t stay warm to save my life. When I had a few minutes I texted my girl, who would be busy at work I was certain.

<Hope you’re having a good day at work, love. Always on my mind> I sent.

<How are your BIG IMPORTANT meetings going today?> she answered immediately. Ah, must be on a break then.

<Good, but I’m feeling under the weather and I just want to curl up in bed. Preferably with you.> I returned, before having a sneezing fit and shivering some more. I emptied my pocket of used tissues into the trash, feeling like absolute trash, but I had something important I wanted to do after I left the offices.

<Awww my poor baby. I’ll take good care of you as soon as I’m home from work. I’ll make you some soup and we can veg on the couch together.>

<Sounds perfect> I sent back. I sat through one more meeting, staring a bit off into the distance and probably missing half of what was being said as I tried to not just melt onto the floor, sweating buckets now and wondering if anyone else noticed my nose running like a faucet. Once hands were shaken (I used a generous amount of hand sanitizer) and backs patted, I got myself out of there as quickly as I could. The tube ride was a bit excruciating, the noises too loud and the overwhelming scent of food and bodies in an enclosed space making me want to gag, but I just put my earphones in and rested my head against the cool pole, nearly missing my stop in my feverish haze.

I found the store I was looking for relatively easily, being ushered into the cool space and greeted with display upon display of sparkling jewelry.

“Ah, Mr. Egerton!” a jeweler greeted me, as I’d made an appointment ahead of time. We talked about what I was looking for in this particularly important piece, and he showed me several options while I fought my eyes from tearing up. Whether that was from my cold or from my emotions, I couldn’t have told you. When I had made my decision, happy with my choice and knowing it would be perfect to surprise y/n with, I paid for it and skipped the packaging, preferring to shove the square black box in my pocket instead. While I never felt unsafe in London necessarily, taking the tube with a clearly-marked jewelry bag hanging from my arm was probably not the best idea.

With that done, I made my way back home, grateful for the dark as I kicked my shoes off and fell into the couch, pulling the duvet around myself and dozing off for a bit until I heard the front door open.

“Babe?” y/n said, walking in with a bag of groceries in her arms and looking concerned. I had not the slightest idea what time of day it was, and I only felt worse than I had before.

“Here,” I croaked out, my throat on fire and a bit of a cough rattling my chest.

“You sound like shit,” she commented sympathetically.

“I feel like shit,” I sighed, pulling the blanket around myself tighter, only my eyes peeking over the edge of it.

“Do you want to eat?” she asked, coming over and feeling my forehead and gasping slightly. “You’re burning up, babe.” I only groaned in response as she hurried about the house, finding some medicine in the bathroom cabinet and making me swallow it down. She turned the telly on, the volume low, and mothered over my sick self, anything else she might have wanted to accomplish in the evening completely forgotten as she sat on the couch with my head resting in her lap, running her fingers through my sweaty hair as the fever tried to break.

Once the medicine started bringing my fever down, I realized I really was hungry and hadn’t had anything to eat but the coffee and breakfast sandwich I’d had early in the morning, so she went to the kitchen to make some soup, and I hoped she wouldn’t catch this awful illness.

I sat up and after a coughing spasm, stood up tentatively, my bladder needing as much attention as my stomach now. I used the toilet and washed my hands with soap and water as scalding as I could manage, staring at my pale face and slightly bloodshot eyes in the mirror. I looked like hell, I couldn’t help but think. But I wasn’t going through this alone, and that made all the difference. How I had gotten so lucky to find the love of my life was beyond me, and every day I counted my stars, especially moments like these.

I found her in the kitchen and she turned to me, sauce spoon in hand, and smiled so brightly I couldn’t help but smile back.

“You’re alive,” she teased me lightly.

“Barely,” I managed, wanting to wrap my arms around her and kiss her until the sun went down, but resisting the urge. The last thing we needed was both of us sick.

“Well I’ll get you back in tiptop shape in no time,” she grinned. “And at least you don’t have anywhere to go tomorrow.”

“No but you have to work and I’ll be by my lonesome,” I whined slightly, making her shake her head.

“I can’t take a sick day just because you’re sick,” she giggled at that as I pouted playfully at her. “My word, what’s that in your pocket?” she asked after a beat, her eyes having obviously drifted down, and I’d completely forgotten the ring box making a very clear presence in my tight jeans.

“Uhhhh,” I said, standing there a bit dumb-founded. “It’s just a surprise, for you. And the soup’s burning,” I added, as she gasped and turned around to take the over-boiling pot off the burner.

“What did you do?” she asked, once the soup had been rescued.

“Nothing we haven’t already talked about babe,” I smiled, leaning against the counter and removing the black box from my pocket, holding it up slightly. “But this wasn’t exactly the moment I was thinking of,” I grinned, and then sneezed again for emphasis. “Shit,” I said, wiping my nose yet again as y/n’s face moved between shock, awe, vulnerability, love, joy, sympathy and finally settled on fondness for me.

“Oh, T,” she said, crossing the space and pressing her lips to mine before I had a chance to protest. I melted into that kiss, as I always did, sick or otherwise. I wrapped my hands in her hair as she slid her fingers around to my back and down to my arse, squeezing slightly and making me chuckle against her lips.

“Think I’m gonna need more medicine for that,” I teased her lightly as we both pulled apart, smiling at each other almost shyly, the way we did when we first met. I loved her so much and moments like these reminded me that I could never get enough of her.

“Gonna let me see that?” she asked, playfully trying to snatch the box from me as I held it above her head.

“Nope,” I said, letting the ‘P’ pop and smirking slightly at her. “Not until I can surprise you properly, and definitely when I’m no longer hacking up a lung,” I chuckled at that.

“Oh fine. I want to be surprised anyway,” she grinned, going to grab bowls out of the cabinet for us. I quickly went to slip the box in my underpants drawer - she could easily find it if she wanted to, but I figured knowing about the mere presence of it was enough.

We settled on the couch together, eating our soup and laughing at stupid game shows, and I imagine that I was already starting to feel a little bit better. I nuzzled into her neck and kissed her there sweetly, as she affectionately ran her fingers through my messy hair. In that moment, everything was right with my world no matter my aches and chills. Being with the person you loved most was better than any medicine money could buy.

[wurmeatworld]

The Embrace (TMA avatarsona fanfic)

Trigger warnings: suffocation, body horror(?), death (including parents), and mentions of illness and violence.

((I haven’t actually listened to The Magnus Archives beyond the first ep, and I don’t usually write fanfic, but hopefully this is ok.))

He is known as The Embrace.  He preys on lonely people.  He works as a counselor at a college in Massachusetts, but his primary source of food for his master, The Buried, is found at a local support group.

Today, he is sitting next to a man named Elliot Miller.  He brought a pillow to cushion his seat, though no one can imagine why he’d need it, considering his massive down coat should cushion him quite enough.  He never takes the coat off when he comes inside, even when the building’s finicky heating system works.

Elliot can’t recall him saying anything during the meetings, but he’s seen him talk to some of the others.  Lately he seems to be very close with Melanie Vern, a sweet old woman who brings in cookies during the Holiday season.  She’s been a staple of the group since Elliot can remember.  But today, there’s been rumors that she’s leaving.  She isn’t looking for companionship anymore.

Elliot’s mother died this Tuesday.  She had been struggling with Alzheimer’s for a little over a year beforehand.  Elliot had known her time was coming, but he still wasn’t prepared to be in the same room with her, holding her hand as she drew her last breath.  Part of him hadn’t wanted to come to the group today, but he (and his therapist) knew that he needed support more than ever at a time like this.

Melanie and The Embrace hug, and then he walks over to Elliot and waves hello.  “I don’t believe we’ve spoken before,” he says.  “My name is Owen, what’s yours?”

Owen feels like the friend Elliot knew he needed, but didn’t know how to define.  They talk until it is time to go home, at which point Owen politely bids Elliot goodbye and returns to Melanie to accompany her to her car.  As Elliot drives back to his house, he wonders why the hell he hadn’t paid Owen any mind before.

The next week, Melanie confirms the rumors.  She no longer needs support, she says, she feels she can flourish on her own.  Owen sits next to Elliot again.  They talk more, and exchange phone numbers.  That night, Elliot opens up about his mother’s death.

Owen listens.  Owen understands.  Owen offers to visit Elliot at home tomorrow. Elliot is happy to take him up on his offer.

In the month that follows, the two men grow to be even closer friends.  Elliot is considering leaving the support group, as Melanie did.  It feels like a waste of time, now.  Owen has done more for him than the group ever has.  He’s there to listen and offer support whenever Elliot needs it.  Whether he’s had a hard day at his job, feeling the loss of his mother, or had an awful nightmare, he can always come to Owen for an understanding ear and a hug.

Lately it’s been nightmares.  Elliot hadn’t ever had them this bad, not since he was a child.  They start with a long corridor with a plain white door at the end.  As he walks towards the door, the walls begin to grow flesh.  It grows thicker and thicker, until he is forced to brush past its soft skin to continue, until it impedes his path, until he can’t move an inch, until he is buried in flesh and unable to breathe.

Owen listens.  Owen understands.  Elliot says he doesn’t need his therapist anymore.  Owen agrees.  An old woman was found dead in her apartment this morning, lying face down.  They said she was tossing in her sleep and suffocated in her pillow.  Elliot sees her face in the obituaries of the local paper and recognizes her as Melanie Vern.

Elliot loses his job.  When he mentions this to Owen, Owen offers to send a monthly check to pay Elliot’s bills while Elliot searches for employment.  “My grandmother was rich,” he says when Elliot asks how he can afford to support him in such a way.  “She left me everything in her will.”  Owen assures Elliot that he doesn’t need to feel pressured to find a new job, it’s no burden on him at all.

Elliot doesn’t need to leave his house as often.  He spends his days watching Netflix and spending time with Owen.  He admits that part of him wants to live off Owen’s grandmother’s money forever.  Owen isn’t opposed to the idea.  

One night Elliot stays up late to binge a show.  As he heads to bed, he imagines the walls and floors of his room are covered in flesh like in his dream.  It’s so soft beneath his feet.  He’s had that dream almost every night for the past week.  The flesh feels like a hug.

Elliot climbs into bed.  The sheets feel softer than usual, but he has trouble getting to sleep.  The flesh on the walls of his room pulses gently.  Elliot thinks about Owen.  He’s his only friend now; there’s no need for any other.  And yet, Elliot has felt lonely lately.  He feels trapped.  He’s not sure why.  In tonight’s nightmare, Owen’s voice guides him forward.

Owen won’t let Elliot go.  He’s at his house every day now.  He practically lives there.  Elliot can’t leave, he says, have you seen the news?

There’s always a different reason, a different excuse.  A serial killer.  Disease.  Construction work.  Change.  Elliot is going crazy.  He wants to leave; he wants Owen to stop treating him like a helpless pet.  He can’t breathe.  The air is stagnant; the windows haven’t been opened for weeks.  Owen isn’t listening anymore.  He won’t let Elliot make decisions.  He’s answering phone calls on Elliot’s behalf.

The day that Elliot finds a draft for his rewritten will, he thinks he understands.  Everything is left to Owen.  He tries to confront Owen about it, but he just envelopes him in an unforgiving hug until Elliot can’t breathe.

Elliot thinks Owen will murder him.  He tries everything he can to escape, to no avail.  He tries to kill Owen with a knife from the pantry.  It sinks into his thick down coat.  It’s like he’s bleeding cotton.  Owen simply pats Elliot’s hand and leads him to bed.  Elliot dreams that the walls are flesh again.  When he wakes up, there are pillows all over the house.  He’s scared he will trip on them.  Owen dismisses his fear.

Elliot falls asleep for the last time.  He does not dream of the corridor.  He dreams he is still in bed.  The sheets are the softest they’ve ever been; he hates how it feels.  He begins sinking, slowly, into the mattress.  He can’t move.  The blankets are too heavy.  They spill around him as he sinks deeper and deeper.  He’s having trouble breathing again.  It feels like Owen’s puffy down coat.

The last thing he sees before the fabric consumes him is Owen, The Embrace, staring down at him with a blank expression and empty eyes.  Elliot thinks he sees a small smile tugs at his lips the moment before the pillow falls down over his face, obscuring his vision.

[evilrubberducke]

Fanfic Request: IzuMina; Mina running on a treadmill while connected to a heart monitor as part of a stress test, the stress proving too much for Mina's heart, resulting in a massive heart attack and Izuku must revive her. Feel free to tweak this to your liking.

Thanks so much for the request. This ended up being so fun to write, I went a little bit longer than I intended. I hope you enjoy nonetheless, and have an excellent day!

Disclaimer: I have 0 medical knowledge, so any medical escapades should be taken with a massive grain of salt, and not attempted at home.

Summary: Preparation for midterms has left the entirety of Class 1A stressed out, but for one particular couple the stress is just the beginning.

Trigger warning: Heart attack

Also on AO3!

Izuku thought to himself for the thousandth time. He slammed his palm into the wall in frustration, cracking the plaster. After more than two years of intense training, even his unaugmented blows were a force to be reckoned with.

He sat outside Recovery Girl’s office on a small and surprisingly comfortable bench. He didn’t feel it though. His mind was stuck firmly on the girl lying in the office right now, wishing desperately that he could do something to help her

The signs had been there for days now, but he hadn’t heeded them. He’s let himself be brushed off, be distracted, be fooled. And now she was paying the price.

It was exam season at UA, and Mina had been both nervous beyond belief, and dedicated to the extreme. Coming into the midterms of their second year had left them all with a lot to prove, but Mina had even more reason to fight. She had been one of the few to fail the exams the first year, both written and physical. She’d come a very long way since that point, and the girl who now attended UA would have been difficult to recognize when compared to her past self.

She had thrown herself into training with great gusto, putting in extra time after classes wrapped up for the day working on both her physical strength and sparring. The class had gained a healthy respect for the pink girl’s talent and reflexes when it came to hand to hand. She wasn’t winning every fight, but she was winning a majority, and in their class that was worthy of great respect.

Done with the physical part of the day, she would bury her nose in a textbook while she ate. She somehow managed to make conversation while doing this, but it was half hearted at best. Her usual bubbly presence had dimmed, and it brought the mood of the entire class.

For Izuku, it was particularly difficult.

The pair hadn’t been on a date in two weeks, which was unusual for them. Mina loved coming up with ideas for them to spend time together, even if it was just a brief jaunt to a shop she had heard of near campus that had just opened.

She still cuddled with him in the evenings, like usual, but even that had taken on a different air. She did her best to steer the conversations, trying to get him to talk about the hero battles he had watched religiously growing up. At first he had been relieved, thinking this was a new method of stress relief she was trying. Eventually he realized that this was just another study method for her.

A part of him had wanted to say something, but every time he tried to, he stopped short. Her training was beyond intense, yes, but was he really one to talk. His own training for UA had been very draconian. So instead of saying something, he tried to be there for her as best he could, slipping in jokes and funny stories as they talked into the evenings while he ran his fingers through her hair.

It was two days before the exams were set to start, and Mina was looking run down. Her skin had lost a lot of its usual luster, and her eyes were half open at the best of times. The entire class had noticed, and had tried to bring it up gently to her.

She brushed it off, making a crack about Izuku keeping her up too late the night before, wiggling her eyebrows all the while.

Most took the joke as a good sign. It was a return to form for their friend, if only slightly. Besides, there was only two more days till exams. After that, everything would be fine.

Izuku was even more worried though. He’d had to practically throw her out of his room the night before, trying to get her to go to bed. She had promised him she would go right to sleep. She didn’t know that he’d followed her up later, and had seen the light coming from under her doorway as she studied. She didn’t know he’d heard her muttering, telling herself that she needed to push harder to keep her place, to stand on the same stage as her classmates. To fight on the level of the boy she loved.

He hadn’t known what to say. He didn’t have the words to reassure her, because he knew those questions all too well. Knew how they ate at you in the dark hours. Knew how they pushed you to fight, for fear of what answering them meant.

So he had turned, and left. And later, he would regret that decision immensely.

“Mind if I join you?” Mina asked, breaking Izuku out of his funk.

He’d been taking a rare opportunity between classes to put in some extra training time of his own before exams. He was confident when it came to academics, and had a few tricks up his sleeve for the practical portion, but a little extra strength training never hurt.

He slowed the treadmill down to a much more sustainable pace, and nodded at her. He was panting to hard at the moment for any real conversation to take place.

Mina fired up her own treadmill, quickly matching his pace. The couple had trained together quite a bit during their time at UA, so matching each other had become almost second nature.

They ran in silence for a few minutes, the only sound being their panting breaths.

Finally, Izuku could take it no longer. “Mina, can we talk for a moment?”

“Sure” She said, panting heavily. Her eyes were trained forward, but Izuku could see she wasn’t really focused on her movements. She seemed to be drifting.

“I….I’m worried about you. I get that you want to do well on the exam, but it feels like you’re pushing yourself way too hard.”

“I’m fine” she said, raising the speed on the treadmill a few notches. It takes her from a steady jog to the barest edge of a sprint.

“Mina, I haven’t seen you take a break in days. The exam is tomorrow. You need rest.” He’d said it as gently as he could, but it only seemed to make things worse.

“I don't… have time… for a break.” Mina panted. She’s running too fast, form starting to break down. Even still, she kept increasing the pace, not caring about her running form any more.

“Mina, you’re going to do fine tomorrow. You’re going to blow the test out of the water. But only if you rest.” A quick button press brought the treadmill he was using to a halt.

He turned to face Mina, taking in her loping strides that are just barely keeping pace with the treadmill. He takes in the arm held tight to her chest to fight against the pain she’s feeling. Her normally vibrant skin has faded and dulled, making her look more haggard than he’s ever seen.

He takes a moment to glance around the gym, thankful that they’re alone for once. He turns back to his girlfriend, and pulls out his last trump card.

“Frosting, can you stop for me?” It’s a private nickname, one the rest of the class will never hear uttered by either of them. It’s a name he only uses when he’s holding her close, said in whispers only she can hear. It’s a name that shows how much he cares for her.

It takes a moment, but she stops. The whir of the treadmill fades away, as do the thud of her footsteps, leaving only her gasping breaths.

It was then that Izuku realized something was very wrong. They had fought together and against each other many times over the last year and half. He knew what she looked like exhausted, and this was something very different.

“I-Izu I…..I don’t…. Something’s…..” She didn’t get a chance to finish her sentence before she dropped like a stone.

Izuku lunged forward, barly catching her shoulder and keeping her head from smacking into the ground. Her horns scraped against his shoulder, but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were on something much more important.

“Mina! Talk to me! Mina!”

She isn’t moving, head lolled back, eyes unfocused and unreactive.

“Mina!” He shook her as hard as he dared, but she didn’t respond. He placed his fingers on her throat and found only a weak pulse, her breath barely discernible.

His mind kicked into overdrive. He didn’t have anything resembling medical training, but he was sure this wasn’t a normal illness, or even exhaustion. This was something serious, and something he didn’t have the capacity to handle.

He scooped her limp form into his arms and called on his Quirk. Red lines of power surged across his limbs, resolving into bolts of green lightning. Strength rushed through him, and he broke into a flat out sprint, not caring about the small cracks he was leaving in the floor. They could be repaired. Mina could not.

His experience with Shoot Style payed dividends as he ran, letting him easily kick open doors as he went without breaking stride. He made a beeline for Recovery Girl’s office, leaping around and over students and other obstacles. He thought he heard some familiar voices calling his name, but couldn’t spare the time to see who it was.

It takes far too long to get to Recovery Girl’s office in Izuku’s opinion. Sure, with how much force he put behind every leap, the entire journey can’t have taken more than a minute, but that’s a minute that Mina might not have been able to spare.

He tried to kick the door open, forgetting that this one was a sliding style entry, rather than a swinging door. It flew off its hinges and crashed into the wall beyond. He mentally added it to the tab of things he was going to catch hell for later.

The office was well light, open, and completely empty. Recovery Girl was nowhere to be seen. Izuku felt his pulse quicken even more than it already had been. He’d been counting on her being there, to help Mina, or to tell him what to do.

A soft gasp from Mina drew his attention to her once more. Her eyes had rolled back in her head. Izuku checker her pulse, and his stomach dropped. He couldn’t feel anything.

He spun around, searching the office desperately for something to help, but found nothing. The instruments were all entirely foreign to him, and he couldn’t even begin to guess at their function.

“Midoriya?” Came a voice from behind him.

He turned, and saw Uraraka, Jirou, and Kaminari standing in the doorway, worried looks on their faces.

HIs eyes snapped to Kaminari, and in that moment he concieved a desperate plan. He lunged forward, grabbing Kaminari’s arm and dragged the boy into the office with him. He set Mina on the bed as quickly as he could without hurting her, then turned to his blond classmate.

“Mina’s heart stopped. I need you to shock her, right now.” His voice has an edge to it, that pierces through the panic. It lends an air to his words, that lets those who hear them know that what he’s saying isn’t a request, but an order. In the moment, none of them can quite place where they’ve heard such a tone before.

It’s only later that they will remember hearing it from their teachers in the many times that they’ve been in peril, or from pro heroes in dire straights.

It’s the tone of a Hero who’s saving someone’s life.

Kaminari blanches. He may be hearing the words, but the meaning behind them paralyzes him. He’s never attempted anything like this, isn’t even sure he can do it.

“Midoriya I-I can’t. I don’t know how to.”

A dozen scenarios run through Izuku’s head. He might be able to convince Kaminari to try, might be able to talk the blonde through his panic, but it will take much too long, and Mina can’t afford to wait that long. Instead, Izuku opts for the strategy that will get her the most help quickly.

It’s a quick calculation, weighing the damage it will do to his relationships and friends against the possibility of Mina suffering for even a second longer than necessary. The risk to his own body doesn’t even enter into the calculation.

Izuku keeps a file on every Quirk user he encounters, cataloging any strengths and weaknesses he observes, and remembering them in case he encounters a similar Quirk in the future. In doing this, he’s amassed quite a lot of observations about his classmate’s Quirks. He knows that Dark Shadow wilts in the light, that Tsuyu shuts down in the cold, and that Jirou is vulnerable to loud noises. Most importantly, he knows that Kaminari activates his Quirk instinctively when he takes damage unexpectedly.

Izuku placed his left hand on Mina’s heart, and grabbed Kaminari’s hand in his right. He activated One for All once more, counting on it to help him absorb most of the voltage that was  about to come. He sent a silent prayer that his resistance would be just enough to limit the damage, but not enough to block the electricity from reaching Mina entirely.

Then he broke Kaminari’s finger in one swift motion.

The effect is immediate. Electricity coursed through all three of them, and Izuku grit his teeth through the pain. It tore at his senses even as it coursed through his body, but he was more than passingly familiar with pain. After you’ve torn your body to pieces willingly to land a single punch, you learn how to deal with pain.

After a long second, he put as much willpower as he could muster into opening his hand and releasing Kaminari. The blond stumbled back, face devolving into a idiotic grin as the electricity began to fade.

Izuku only had eyes for Mina though. A long moment passed where nothing happened. Then Mina convulsed, and gasped. Objectively, it was a horrible, rattling gasp that should have sent shivers down Izuku’s spine, but in the moment it was the sweetest sound he could have heard.

The combination of relief and electrical shock finally overwhelm him, and he fell backwards, slamming painfully into the floor below, not even making a move to catch himself.

Uraraka rushed forward to help her friend, and Jirou did the same for Kaminari. The rapid fire events had left them reeling, and they were only just now catching up.

“What happened in here?” Recovery girl asked as she stepped through the destroyed entryway. She looked more than a little upset to see her carefully tidied office in shambles. When she caught sight of Izuku, she sighed deeply. “I should have known. I step out for five minutes and you’re creating chaos. What’s happened this time? Have you managed to break even more of your bones?”

Izuku shook his head weakly. “Mina” He pointed to the gurney next to him. “She stopped breathing. Used Kaminari to shock her.”

Recovery Girl’s eyes went wide, and she moved over to Mina’s side. She quickly examined the girl, checking her heartbeat, breathing, and pupils. When she was done, Izuku had managed to shake off most of the lingering effects of the shock.

“I hate to say it, but I think in this situation, you made the right call.” Recovery girl said, settling into her chair. “It seems Young Ashido suffered a heart attack, likely due to severe stress. She seems to be suffering from malnutrition and dehydration as well.” She shook her head sadly.

She kicked them out immediately following her exam, pausing only to heal the damage Izuku and Kaminari had taken, telling them to go to class, and not to worry. Thanks to her healing, all Mina needed was a bit of rest before she felt a lot better.

Izuku couldn’t just go back, not when Mina was right there. If she needed him, he wanted to be there. He parked himself on a convenient bench across from the office, not responding to any of his friend’s questions or attempts to speak to him. He simply sat and stared at the door.

Izuku could afford to skip class, but the rest weren’t quite so lucky. They reluctantly left their friend sitting there, promising to return when class was done, and to let everyone know that he and Mina were ok. Izuku nodded slightly at that, which they took to be a good sign.

When Recovery Girl emerges from her office, she doesn’t look surprised at all to see him sitting there. She looks resigned instead.

“She’s waking up now. It will do her good to have a friendly face when she does.”

Izuku practically bolts out of his seat to enter. Mina is still lying on the cot where he placed her before, though Recovery Girl apparently took the time to cover her with a thin blanket.

He could see her eyelids fluttering as he stepped closer. He reached out and gently took her hand. A moment later, she squeezed it lightly.

“Izu?” Her voice was faint, and more than a little confused. “What happened?”

“We were working out, and you collapsed. I brought you to Recovery Girl. You…” He paused, not quite sure how to break it to her. “Mina you had a heart attack.”

She shocked Izuku by laughing weakly. “Guess I really screwed up, huh?”

“Quite” Recovery Girl said from her desk. The elderly hero was filling out paperwork, probably relating to Mina’s condition. “You’re not the first student to exhaust themself before exams, but yours is one of the more extreme cases. I’ve healed the damage from the attack, as well as your sweethearts impromptu treatment, but you still need rest. I can only heal the effects of illness, not the cause.”

She ripped the lower half of the paper shed been writing on off and handed it to Izuku, then faced Mina. “Three days of rest with NO TRAINING. Study if you must, but keep it to an absolute minimum. I’ll speak to Aizawa about getting you an exam extension. Keep in mind that this is a one time deal, and only because this is the first time I’ve seen you in my office all year, unlike someone I know.” She aimed a pointed glare at Izuku who even now was her most frequent visitor by a country mile.

A pager on her hip heroes loudly, and she snatched it up with a sigh. “And yet another poor soul needs healing. Please excuse me, but stay until you feel completely better. And remember, no training!” With that, she strode out of the door, which had been clumsily reattached, closing it behind her.

“Well, there goes my ‘least time in the nurse’s office’ record.” Mina said ruefully.

Izuku didn’t respond, and she turned her head to look at him. He still held tight to get hand, but there was a very distant look in his eyes.

“I’m kinda disappointed actually. I liked holding that over Kirishima’s head.”

Izuku nodded slightly at that, and Mina got the distinct impression that he wasn’t listening to a word she was saying.

“I guess now would be a bad time to tell you that I’m pregnant, huh?”

This time he didn’t even nod, just continued to stare into space. Mina rolled her eyes, and flicked her boyfriend in the forehead. It was unusual to see him spaced out without a stream of muttered observations streaming out of him.

“You know, it’s considered polite to listen when people are talking to you.” She teased. She was feeling stronger now, almost back to normal. Or at least as normal as she had felt in the last few weeks, which meant gritty, run down, and struggling to keep her eyes from folding closed.

He blinked, coming back to his body. He looked at her for a moment, and then his face crumpled. All of the emotions that he had been holding inside came flooding out, and his eyes overflowed with tears. It wasn’t the first time Mina had seen him cry, but the fat droplets surprised her every time.

“M-Mina I was…I was so worried!” He sobbed, planting his face into her shoulder.

She reached her arms around his shaking shoulders and pulled him close. She felt a prickle at the back of her own eyes. The collapse had been traumatizing for her as well, and when combined with all the stress she’d been under, it was a heavy burden to bear. She’d been unconsciously dealing with it in the same way she had been during the last week, pushing the feelings down and hiding under a layer of humor.

Now, given a chance to release, she cried too, tears coming close to matching Izuku’s. In short order, they each had a large wet patch on their shirts from the other’s tears. They didn’t speak, merely held each other close as they let all their feelings out in one long burst.

Eventually, they both ran short of tears. They pulled back slightly, but neither was willing to let go completely. They linked their arms, and leaned against each other, taking comfort from the other’s warmth.

“I’m sorry” Izuku said softly.

“Don’t be.” Mina replied. “It was….I needed a good cry. It helped.”

Izuku nodded, understanding exactly what she felt. He felt exhausted, but relieved, like a weight he hadn’t known he’d been carrying had finally been lifted.

“It was hard. Seeing you like that. I didn’t know what to do, or how to help you. I was scared.”

She squeezed his hand in a comforting gesture, but she could feel a smile tugging at her face. “I’m sorry? Mr. Self Sacrifice found it tough to see someone he cares about hurt? Welcome to my world.”

Izuku smiled as well. He knew he had been tough on Mina in the past, and given her more than one hospital scare.

“I know, now more than ever. I’ll try to be better in the future.”

“Only try?”

“I am what I am.” He said with a shrug.

Mina laughed at that, a full body stomach laugh this time. Izuku joined in a moment later. It was difficult having a reputation as class problem child, but Izuku had come to embrace the role.

“I love you Sparks” Mina said softly.

He pulled her close, and planted a kiss on her forehead. “Love you too Frosting.” She flushed a little. A part of her always loved hearing her call her that. He said it in a way that made her feel like the most special person in the world.

As much as she wanted to stay like that forever, Mina knew they should get going. She may have a mandate to avoid studying, but Izuku doesn’t. She groaned as she stood, flexing her back to work out a few of the kinks that had developed while she slept. Izuku stood as well, watching her carefully for signs of relapsing.

“Let’s head back to the dorms.” Mina said. “Everyone’s in class right now, so we’ll have the dorms to ourselves for a while.”

Izuku raised an eyebrow at that. “There’s still Modern Heroics left today. I probably shouldn’t skip more class this close to exams.”

Mina let a mischievous grin cross her face. “You sure about that? You know how easily I get bored when I don’t have someone to talk to. I might even decide to do a bit of training to relieve my boredom…”

“Don’t you dare!” He said in mock outrage. He knew she was sensible enough not to try anything, but still felt it prudent to stop that line of joking right here and now.

“You’re gonna have to cuddle me if you want to be extra sure.”

He smiled a wide and honest smile that always lifted Mina’s heart when she saw it. It was bright, and good, and so very beautiful. And it looked perfect on her boyfriend’s face.

“Now that, I can definitely do.”

The couple walked arm in arm, ready to enjoy some much needed R&R, perfectly content to be in the arms of their lover once more.