#i had an EXHAUSTING day so i get to shitpost before bed

[catgirlbussy]

holy shit i just realised im autistic

i know this seems like a shitpost, and tbf i am laughing at myself pretty hard rn. it's dawning on me at 6 AM after being awake all night, but (if you care, and if you don't feel free to ignore too, have a nice day!) hear me out, cause this genuinely feels meaningful and insightful for me with how my life has gone so far. I spent an hour writing this post in hopes someone might find it helpful too :3c

If you don't wanna read my post pls enjoy this picture of our famous friend autism baby stackin those cans before you go~♪

(source: wikipedia)

l

like i already /knew/ I was before this moment, but i was thinkin about what i used to do as a kid and wow i am so autistic how the fuck did i not realise sooner. It straight up wasn't until I was already well into my 20's that I started to meet other autistic people online and learned about their experiences and difficulties from talking with them that I realised a lot of things they described matched for me too.

I live in assfuck nowhere so most of my life the only few times that I had met autistic people were like, folks who were nonverbal or whatever, just generally needing direct assistive care, and I never bothered to look things up on my own because I was already inundated with the pressures of growing up, school, mental health, etc. I remember one of the first times I had built up the courage to ask anyone about it, I was in the hospital because of mental health issues. This was in my second year uni, and when one of the doctors assessing me was asking me questions, I said I thought maybe I was autistic. He promptly and with a fair amount of snark told me that if I was autistic I wouldn't have gotten into university.

Thinking back, he was probably just an exhausted, fresh outta school resident with no special interest in psychiatric care (and also just seemed to suck in general), but it was enough that I shelved the idea for another 5 years.

Lo and behold, now I am lying here in bed, just absolutely gobsmacked by the VERY REAL idea that im autistic and like holy shit I feel so vindicated.

I've been on tumblr for just a bit, but I see a lot of folks talking in various neurodivergent circles about their experiences and that's been so wonderful for me. I also have a few good friend groups w/ a lot of neurodivergent folks, and that's been really exciting too.

Like, I'm still processing this cognitively as I'm writing, so please pardon this ill patterned post, but this feels like such a beneficial thing for me. Over time I've adapted a few strategies here and there to help myself accomplish various tasks, but now I feel so empowered to, like... actually figure stuff out.

Even after feeling confident I was autistic, it was this nebulous, floating concept in my head for so long of, "oh yeah im autistic or something idk," that I never really dedicated much effort to finding healthier ways to do things that didn't irk me or whatever. I don't feel like the label /itself/ is what is important to me here, but rather the awareness around why I do so many things in the ways that I do and that it's /okay/ that I do.

I don't want this post to go on too much longer, but I feel it's worth noting that I've fought for years with my family because they didn't understand why I was going about things the way I did. Again, remember, they all grew up in this cloistered hellhole too. But, surprise surprise, the times in my life that I have been doing better than any other are when I felt confident enough to ignore what everyone was trying to get me to go along with and instead just fashioned my own best methods (which also sometimes included informing said overbearing individual(s) to go fuck themselves cause I'm busy doing shit. It's hard for them to argue with me telling them as much when I would be completing X objective well, which is what they wanted in the first place).

I don't want to make this sound like I'm trying to be overconfident, but I mention as much instead as a sign of support for other neurodivergent folks to feel similarly empowered to drum to their own beat. Thinking back, I went from almost failing high school and ultimately retaking a grade to excelling in all my classes. Every single one. I know that's a relative assessment, you got variable difficulty levels, etc., and the grade score isn't important in and of itself, least of all because the school systems here (Canada) are a mess it seems, but just that alone as an idea, within the parameters of a particular system, I went from initial abject failure to thorough and lauded success.

Just think of what so many people could do if they weren't being pigeonholed into formats that absolutely aren't working for them.

I already have a boatload of (genuinely helpful by way of enabling access to proper education and treatment) diagnoses from my history of working with my (very wonderful and genuinely caring and helpful) psychiatrist that match with what I know about the neurodivergence term umbrella like ADHD, OCD, and bipolar, so it seems |autism| will feel quite at home in the group ^w^. I'll ask her about it at my next appointment to see if an official diagnosis has any value versus me just continuing to figure things out on my own.

Either way, I am thrilled right now thinking about the next time I get to shout

"FUCK YOU IM DOING AUTISTIC SHIT"

while an electric guitar squeals and lightning strikes all around me and I make cool stuff happen :3c.

[verdemoun]

Shitpost inspired. Can you imagine the emotions tho? Fuck the wheel, just. In general. Arthur sees his dead son. John sees his family. Hosea sees Bessie.

There's joy, there's tears, there's everything. But after that first moment, it doesn't stop, just shows itself in different ways. Everything that screams "don't leave me again", even though it wasn't anyone's choice.

Arthur sometimes checking on Isaac out of nowhere. He needs to know his son is still there. John, whatever everyone sees him as, is still a loving father and husband. He does the same. He needs to know they're there, safe, alive.

Bessie and Hosea is a story I don't think I need to tell, we all understand. But still.

Just. Small ways the trauma shows itself. The way they all say what they can't speak out loud.

This is why we can't have nice things

happy one week anniversary of the wheel woot woot also i can't believe i give you all a nice wholesome modern au with a twist and you're all sitting there like starving victorian children crying papa where is the angst

Sean is not allowed to say the words 'quick job' because Rhodes was meant to be a quick job and Lenny just sits by the door slowly spiraling into full blown hyperventilation thinking about the completely ordinary day when Sean's corpse came back to camp draped over Brown Jack.

Arthur and Isaac. Not only is Arthur very serious about never putting Isaac down or out of his sight again but actually seeing his dad again brings up so much anxiety for Isaac. He doesn't want him to go away again either.

Arthur might sit for hours watching Isaac sleep when Isaac starts staying nights with him but also Isaac waking up in the middle of the night panicked. He might be 9 years old but very desperately needing his dad and to know where he is constantly.

Checking in on Isaac and vice versa is the main reason Arthur learned the importance of cell phones and keeping them charged because he will get a random phone call in the middle of the day when Isaac just wanted to hear his voice and have the assurance he hadn't vanished again. Calling each other at least three times a day at all hours.

John did not sleep for days after he first timewarped because he could not handle his daughter being out of sight. Closes his eyes for a second on the couch in sheer exhaustion only to jump up and frantically look around for her. Uncle actually serving a purpose he won't even drink when John asks him to watch Addie: he needs to know someone is watching his precious daughter so he can relax enough to sleep.

Abigail thinks she is fine and life is perfect now that she has her family back all together again, but sometimes John comes back from the store or helping Charles with a job to her just silently sobbing on the couch because she was so convinced something happened to him.

Hosea and Bessie. Unless Hosea has something/someone else to worry about he needs to be with Bessie because he will obsessively think he's going to lose her again without constant distraction. Bring your husband to work day everyday because she also just missed him so much it's not the palpable anxiety but just grief.

Jack is the biggest co-sleeper. He is used to sharing his space. They thought it would be so exciting modern era he finally has his own room and instead it's just - he cannot sleep without knowing someone is there. The only times he had a room to himself was a) Beecher's Hope before Addie was born (he shared a room with the baby and was the most doting big brother) b) Beecher's Hope after Addie died (uncomfortably quiet) and c) Beecher's Hope after Abigail died. After John's death he was so worried about his mother he accidentally fell back into the habit of sleeping in bed with her because they were both all the other had and then he lost her.

Abigail admittedly went straight back to sleeping in Jack's room for a few weeks after he timewarped because she was just so sad to have her son back so soon, so young. And he needed it. Takes a white noise machine or music for him to sleep if there's no one there because sleeping alone has always meant displacement or mourning.

Isaac doesn't have a guest room so every time he crashes there it's a routine of pillow walls 'stay on your side of the bed, morgan' 'it's my bed, marston' only to be starfish sprawled arm around each other in their sleep. Very much one of the unacknowledged reasons he spends so much time at Isaac's.

Not only Kieran needing routine but everyone needing to know Kieran's routine because they feel a compulsion to check on him every once in a while just in case because of the guilt of not doing enough the first time he went missing when it SHOULD have been a massive red flag in 1899.

[mewtwoandme]

So I've decided, in order to manage art around my winter work schedule, I think posting expectations with bigger comics or story related comics will likely be on weekends or every other weekend. And if that doesn't work then...they get done whenever, I guess XD But this at least gives all of you somewhat of a time frame of when to expect upcoming stuff.

When it comes to the story comics, I've always tried to work as fast as I could and would post them as soon as I'd finish them. But that never really bothered me cause I always had the time to work on them. But now due to working 9 hours a day...trying to work on them during the week, only having a couple hours in between coming home and before going to bed is exhausting me too much. Staying up until 3-5am to draw was also doing a number on me too so I had to stop that for the sake of my health, cause now I'm starting to deal with chronic migraines and I have nearly slept on the job a couple times from being sleep deprived, so it's gonna take some time to get my sleep cycle back on some kind of track. 😅

However, unfortunately this does mean anything main story related will come out slower, but right now as much as I hate it, it can't be helped...

Shitpost and stuff like that you can still expect here and there during the week cause they don't take as long to do and they don't have to be as detailed lol

[raichoose-gone]

“Friendship circle!”

“Society!”

“Friendship circle!”

“Society!”

“Society!”

“Friendship circle!”

“You know what? You win. Guzma, write ‘Friendship Circle’ on the white board!”

“You got it, Ponyta! ... Yer one of them Galarian Ponytas, right -”

“Thank you for seeing things my - Wait a minute.” 

“ ... Why are you all in our village’s morgue -”

“I will take advantage of the pastel creatures’ fight to conduct my experiments.” 

[theinternetisfulloftrash]

Far Away From L.A.

Story Summary: Dylan arrives ahead of production to a new filming location to get a break from L.A. It’s a small town in eastern Canada that’s remote and serene. While he’s enjoying the touch of anonymity that comes with filming in a rural town where most people couldn’t care less who he was, he meets Amelia. 

Pairing: Dylan x OFC

Warnings: eventual smut, RPF, slight angst, general naughtiness

A/N: This is basically one giant shitpost. Read it if you want to. It’s self-indulgent and will be smutty. It’s probably not going to be super long, and I’m not committing to an update schedule. I am in a writing groove though, so who knows ;) No beta? No problem! Right? .... Ugh.

Index: Chapter 1 / Chapter 2 / Chapter 3 / Chapter 4 / Chapter 5 / Chapter 6 / Chapter 7 / Chapter 8 / Chapter 9 / Chapter 10 / Chapter 11 / Chapter 12 / Chapter 13 / Chapter 14 / Chapter 15 / Chapter 16 / Chapter 17 / Chapter 18 /  Chapter 19 /  *IN PROGRESS*

Chapter 1: Escape (Dylan POV)

‘It’s not easy being in the spotlight.’ Everyone says that. Everyone. And everyone also thinks it’s a cliché. The truth of the matter is, clichés are clichés for a reason. Fame and notoriety have a way of dehumanizing you. It separates you from everyone else, for largely superficial reasons. To Dylan, acting was what he did for a living, and he was lucky because it was something he was good at and that he loved. He wasn’t doing it for fame. In fact, he kind of hated that part of it all. He appreciated his fans, loved how passionate they were and that they chose to support his work, but he’d always found the idea of celebrity so odd.

You wouldn’t rush up to a barista that had served you coffee that morning on a walk with their dog and ask for a picture. Of course you wouldn’t. That’s absurd. That’s how he felt sometimes. He knew it wasn’t fair to compare those experiences, but he couldn’t help but long for the same anonymity. Nothing was his anymore. Privacy was something he still desperately clung to, and he was pretty good at keeping the most intimate details of his life to himself, but who else had to be careful who they were seen with in public and what tweets they chose to like? It was exhausting, but he’d signed up for it, he supposed.

It didn’t help that he lived in LA. It was a teeming swamp of paparazzi. He couldn’t count the number of times he’d been photographed at LAX with his pillow tucked under his arm trying to hide as much as he could under his ball cap and sunglasses. It was the last place he wanted to be swarmed. He’d either woken up early to make a flight, or was jet lagged as hell on his way back from one thing or another, just wishing he was at home in his bed when they’re chasing him out to his car to get a picture. The whole fiasco attracted the attention of everyone else in the damn terminal. Countless autographs and unflattering photos later, he can finally escape.

An escape, that’s what he needed. He got those from time to time. He especially enjoyed his trips to New York. He still got noticed there, but not everyone that recognized him intruded. He could go to a Mets game, get asked for a couple of pictures, and go about his business. New Yorkers seemed to respect his personal space a bit more and didn’t seem as concerned or consumed with the spectacle of celebrity. But what he really loved was filming outside of the usual celebrity haunts.

Locations are kept quiet prior to the start of filming, for the most part, and those first few days, before anyone knows where you are or has really recognized you, you can walk around without the weight of all of that on your shoulders. That’s where he found himself now. He’d arrived early, ahead of the production crew and the other actors, to a small town in Nova Scotia, Canada. He was set to start filming a period piece that he’d signed onto a while back. The script had spoke to him and the director had reached out after seeing his performance in “Amazing Stories”.

He found a Bed and Breakfast online before he’d left LA. It was a quaint little place on a country road about 10 miles from where the majority of filming would be taking place. The air was cool, and the first hints of fall were stealing the green from the leaves in the trees. He forgot how much he loved fall on the east coast. It was always his favorite time of year before he’d moved to California.

Dylan was standing outside his rental car taking in the expanse of wheat fields and the river that wove its way through the valley when his phone vibrated in the pocket of his sweats. He snatched his ball cap off the passenger seat and placed it on his head as he read the message that flashed across his screen.

**----------**

T-Pose: You make it there alright?

**----------**

Dylan smiled. He and Tyler were out the night before for dinner at Tyler’s favorite bar, Stout, in LA and had hung out at Tyler’s place after. They laughed and caught each other up on what they were getting up to since they’d last spoken, quickly falling into old habits. He hated that he had to head home to be up early enough to catch his flight.

**----------**

Dylan: Yeah bro. I’m here

T-Pose: Nice! How is it so far?

Dylan: It’s quiet.

T-Pose: Sounds like just the right place for you right now

Dylan: Yeah. 2 weeks before filming starts. I’m just going to try to find some time to just exist, dude

T-Pose: I’m sure those Canadians will take good care of you up there

Dylan: Haha, for sure. Thanks again for the talk last night, man. I needed that shit more than you know

T-Pose: Always, brother. Always. I’ve got you

Dylan: Thanks, man. I got you too. Can you send me that song you played for me last night, btw?

T-Pose: For sure! I’ll throw it in the share drive.

Dylan: Sounds good, man. Listen. I gotta get settled in find a place to get some grub before I pass out 

T-Pose: All good, dude. Enjoy yourself up there. Let me know if you see a whale or some shit

Dylan: Hah! You’ll be the first to know if I get Moby Dicked

T-Pose: Dicked 😉

Dylan: Behave. You child.

T-Pose: 👶

  **----------**

Dylan smiled and shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. He walked around the car to the trunk and grabbed his bag and pillow. He didn’t even make it to the front door before an older woman, 5 feet tall on a good day, was coming out to greet him at the top of the stairs that led up to the front porch.

“Hi there, dear!” she said, beaming as she wiped her hands on her apron.

“Hello,” he smiled back.

“I hope you didn’t have any trouble finding us.”

“Oh, no. None at all,” Dylan said, stepping up to stand next to her. “I’m just glad you had space for me on short notice.”

“Stop!” she scoffed playfully, waving her hand. “We’ve never been fully booked in the 30 years we’ve run this place. It’s no trouble at all.” She grinned, patting his shoulder. “I’m Violet,” she said, reaching out to shake his hand.

“Dylan,” he replied, taking her hand in his. “I’m just glad you were able to find space for me on such short notice, you know?” He set his bag down next to him. “I shouldn’t have been playing so fast and loose with my plans.”

He smiled, looking past her at the swing on the porch that lazily hung on its chains and the expanse of fields beyond the rail. This really was exactly where he needed to be.

“What brings you to Nova Scotia?” She asked, reaching to pick up his bag.

Dylan stopped her, smiling in thanks before picking it up himself. “Just some good ol’ fashioned R&R,” he sighed.

“Well,” she smiled, stepping out of his way to clear the path, “you came to the right place.” She opened the door and the day’s sunlight spilled into the modest lobby. An old Afghan rug ran along the hallway adjacent to the old oak staircase. A large sitting room opened to the left at the foot of the stairs, a stately fireplace adorning the wall. To the right, sat a large dining table with a single flower arrangement. The smell of fresh bread wafted out from the kitchen beyond the closed glass doors at the far end of the table.

“Nice place you got here,” he said with a nod, removing his hat.

She blushed just a little. “Well thank you! We like to think so.” She fussed with a crooked picture frame before clearing her throat. “I can show you to your room, if you like?”

“Sure. Thanks.”

Dylan followed her up the staircase and down the hall to a room that overlooked the back of the property. The windows ran from the floor to the ceiling, all the trim dark and wide. The walls were covered in a speckled pattern of small flowers. The bed had four posts that nearly reached the high ceiling. There were more pillows than had any right to be on a single bed at one time, but the quilted blanket looked warm and inviting.

“If you don’t like it, there’s another—”

“No, no,” he interrupted, not wanting her to think he was displeased, “it’s perfect, really.” He smiled at her, sitting his bags on the end of the bed. “Thank you.”

She sighed, patting her thighs. “Well. I won’t trouble you any longer. If there’s anything you need, you can find one of us in the office downstairs next to the kitchen.”

“Sounds good.”

“Oh! I almost forgot. Breakfasts are served at 8 am, if you’d like to partake.”

Dylan’s stomach growled at the thought of food. He never liked to eat before a flight, so his last meal was last night with Tyler.

“And there’s a book in the drawer of the nightstand with some information about local sight seeing, restaurants, and little tidbits my family has thrown in for guests.”

Dylan smiled. “That’s perfect, actually.”

“Alright then, dear. Enjoy the rest of your evening, and I hope to see you at breakfast!” She backed out through the door, closing it behind her.

Dylan looked up at the ceiling, taking a long breath as he stretched out his neck. He walked over to the window and pulled back the sheers to get a better view. A large tree stood alone in a field of green grass. Its canopy was nearly perfectly symmetrical, and on one of the lowest bows, a tire swing hung neglected on a worn rope. Beyond the tree, a large red barn stood tall in the field. It looked well cared for and recently painted. The hay loft door swung open in the breeze.

“Sure not in L.A. anymore.” 

[ironmandeficiency]

internal bleeding

pairing: kix / mechanic!reader

word count: 2425

summary: work can be dangerous, even for someone who barely leaves the star cruiser.

a/n: i’m hitting three birds with one stone with this one!! not only is this shitpost prompt #1 AND a separate request i got a few days ago, but the 14th was my bestie @morganas-pendragons​ ‘s birthday!! have a little kix, kayla, as a late bday treat

warnings: getting kinda crushed by a ship, fives being a dumbass

the guys had just arrived back on board the resolute from what you heard was an almost too easy campaign. despite the lower than normal admittances to the medbay, there were still plenty of ships to tend to with varying amounts of damage.

your normal drill on days like this one was to work like hell until kix was relieved of duty for the night, then go with him to his bunk and let the both of you sleep out your exhaustion in the comfort of each other’s arms. the next morning before you were both summoned to your duties would be spent catching up on each other, letting the worries melt away as you chatted about everything and nothing all at once. it was a system that you both adopted soon after you started dating, one that you were extremely grateful for.

it was nights like that where you were able to see your boyfriend vulnerable in a way he couldn’t show often. if the campaign was more rough than usual, then you were able to hold him and remind him just how wonderful of a man he is. you hated to see him hurting but took comfort in the fact you were always able to bring him back to you, back to his brothers.

thoughts of laying in kix’s loving arms keep you blissfully distracted during the later hours, when the rest of your fellow mechanics had already retreated to the bunks for the night. others thought your late hours spent under various ships were because of your dedication to the cause, but they didn’t know about you and kix. you worked hard so your medic was safe, so his brothers were safe.

those reasons were what had you under general skywalker’s delta-7b aethersprite at some unholy hour of the night. your reputation preceded you, and after some good words put in by torrent company, you were able to become the only person besides general skywalker himself allowed to make repairs on it.

it was a strenuous job sure, what with how the jedi knight wore down his ships, but you enjoyed your work and felt honored to be respected at such a high level.

that is, you enjoyed it when the jacks holding the ship up weren’t breaking while you under the damned thing. you heard the telltale creaking of the jacks while your entire body was on the ground below it. you were never more grateful that chet had convinced you to use one of the rollers.

with all the speed your half-conscious body could muster, you walked your feet forward as fast as you could from under the delta and thought you were home free, but then an excruciating pain erupted in your left arm. the ship was on top of the limb and the weight was no pain you’d ever felt in your life. you were certain your scream should have gotten somebody’s attention, but it seems that you’re all alone.

your comm was, unfortunately, on the wrist of your crushed arm and on the off chance that it wasn’t busted beyond repair, you couldn’t communicate with the thing regardless because the buttons were out of reach.

maybe if the surveillance team would see you eventually but you doubted it. there was no way in the galaxy you were going to let yourself be bested by a damn ship though, so you got to yelling for someone to help you and hoped you wouldn’t lose your voice before help came.

--------

“kix, i know for a fact you haven’t slept in at least two days. get your ass outta here or i’m gonna call your girl in here and have her drag you out.”

“i’m not gonna leave when there’s still so much left to do.”

“you’ve done plenty, vod-”

“coric, i-”

kix wasn’t sure who had a hold on his arm but suddenly he was being dragged out of the medbay, and his body was too weak to resist the familiar grip. “vod, you’ve got a pretty woman waitin’ for ya and she’d hate to see you working yourself to death like this. let’s head to the barracks-”

“no,” kix mumbles, “she’s waiting for me in the hangar, it’s what we always do.” to be frank, kix isn’t completely honest how he’s able to form a coherent sentence with how tired he is. fives says nothing, just nods and takes a turn towards where you were waiting.

the closer the brothers got to the hangar, the more they heard it. they weren’t completely sure what “it” was, but it was a little worrying. the noise kept repeating itself and when they were closer, it sounded… human. they were yelling, and were they crying too? it was hard to tell from here.

warning bells were ringing in their heads and any tiredness kix had before was shoved down deep as they ran to investigate the source of the noise.

if you weren’t in so much pain you would have thought to keep track of the time you spent under the ship. your arm was in a strange limbo of total numbness and almost blinding pain and you couldn’t even focus on your surroundings because all of your focus was on the pain.

no one was listening, no one had been for the past however long you’ve been laying there. your throat was raw from screaming and you began to sob, which didn’t exactly help your throat. you weren’t completely certain when your sobbing began to contain cries for help but what you did know was that the longer you were under this ship, the worse the damage would be.

several more minutes of sobbing and screaming and nothing. not a soul cared that you were pinned down. you were doomed to spend the rest of your days under general skywalker’s ship, forever known as the mechanic whose love for her work killed her.

but wait a minute, were those footsteps? or was it the pounding of blood in your ears?

the two soldiers enter the hangar and their eyes nearly fall from their skulls when they identify your body in such a precarious spot under the bright yellow ship

“cyare! sweetheart, what happened?!”

their feet pound hard on the durasteel floor towards where you were pinned, fear the dominant expression on both of their faces. kix has never seen you cry out of something that wasn’t laughter, and he didn’t think he’d ever be ready to see his headstrong cyare temporarily defeated by a hunk of metal.

“kix, help me get this off her!” fives yelling for his help and the sobs from your throat snapped him back to reality as he helped lift the ship just enough for you to move to the side enough to free your arm.

it almost hurt worse now that the weight was gone which made no sense. once you were free, the men dropped it with a clang and kix was immediately hovering over you, examining the wounded limb. he quickly notices the way your veins are swelling and the unnatural angle of your wrist and is brought to two conclusions: there’s some sort of internal bleeding in your arm that needs to be taken care of immediately, and you have a broken wrist.

“what’s the damage?”

“internal bleeding and a broken wrist. could have been worse but this is a bitch of an injury.”

“internal bleeding? isn’t that where the blood’s supposed to be?”

you wanted so bad to laugh at the stupid joke, it was one of the worst ones you’ve ever heard from him. the most you could muster is a sob-laugh accompanied by a shake of your head. you’d give him the proper laughter later when you weren’t in blinding pain.

fives is watching worriedly as his vod unzips half of your jumpsuit, using the sleeves to tie your arm to your torso. he knows that as a mechanic, your hands and wrists are crucial for your job. would you be let go for this? oh gods, what if you had to leave the resolute? kix would be absolutely crushed without you.

whispering a soft apology in your ear, he lifts you into his arms and begins to run to the medbay as fast as his legs could go. the jostling irritated the wound and brought the tears down harder, and with every step kix was cooing gently and giving choked apologies for hurting you.

“i thought i told you to leave, k- holy shit, what happened?!”

“she was working in general skywalker’s delta when the jacks collapsed and the ship fell on her!”

“there’s a free bed over here!”

coric was struggling to comprehend you crying, that just wasn’t something that happened. ever. he would have continued down this rabbit hole of “holy kriff” but kix was beginning to shout orders. he literally just kicked this man out of the medbay moments ago, this isn’t going to fly. not even - no, especially when the patient is his cyar’ika.

coric and fives could tell that kix’s hands were shaking from several feet away. whether it was because of you, his ongoing lack of sleep, or both, neither of them were sure. a silent plan was devised and fives was soon pulling kix backwards away from you. he was struggling in the arc’s hold, yelling about how he had to be there, how he wasn’t going to leave you. coric was then able to bring the needle to his vod’s neck and pushed in the sedative.

fives gently sat his brother in one of the sparse guest chairs and pulled a second chair next to kix’s. you two weren’t going to be alone, not through something like this.

you woke up connected to machines you knew the names of and how to fix, but not why they were attached to you. then you tried to move your arm and you remembered exactly why in seconds, your eyes seeing spots with the pain. it was nowhere near as bad as it was when you were still under the ship, but it was terrible for just waking up.

then you tried to lift your other side and panicked when you couldn’t move your entire right side. that wasn’t where you were hit, what gives? then you recognized the anti-droid aurebesh and lightning bolt designs and let yourself calm down.

it was just kix, and he was curled around you like a tooka kitten trying to steal warmth. his hands held your right one to his chest, his forehead pressing against your shoulder while the rest of his body was curled up to make itself as tiny as possible. even in sleep, kix was always putting your comfort first.

not wanting to wake him, you decided to gently trace the designs in his hair and count down the minutes until you could kiss him like you’ve been wanting to ever since he left for the planet’s surface.

a throat clears from kix’s other side and you poke your head up with confusion. why was fives there? did he even sleep last night? didn’t look like it.

the arc trooper could see the question forming on your lips and answered it before you could say a thing. “i uh, i didn’t want either of you to be alone when you woke up. i hope that’s okay.”

“that’s more than okay, fives. it’s really sweet of you.”

“yeah it was a guessing game as to which one of ya would wake up first,” you raised an eyebrow as to why they’d be unsure of whether you or kix would be up before the other. “he was frantic when we brought you in, nearly punched coric when he told him to move away from you. had to sedate him to get him down.”

you gasped at the revelation and turned to press a soft kiss to your boyfriend’s crown. it was still jarring to know that you had someone that would fight tooth and nail for you, despite having been with kix for nearly a year. but for him to be given a sedative because he was so violent in his need to help you? it was bizarre. violent was never a word you thought would describe kix, but trying to punch his brother seemed to fit under that category.

he stirred next to you and his hands tightened their grip on yours, his forehead pressing a little harder against your shoulder. a few grumbles came from his throat as he awoke, eyelids droopy as he raised his head.

“are you okay, cyare?” this was more like the kix you know, always putting others above himself from the moment he’s awake.

you hummed and continued to trace his lightning, nodding in reply. “yeah, because you saved me.” he smiles and places a gentle kiss in the palm of your hand before lacing his fingers with yours.

“i helped a little, i think.”

“fuck off, fives.” your boyfriend mumbled groggily as he wrapped himself around you, burying his face in your neck.

“i did!”

it hurt a little less to laugh now and your boyfriend seemed to lose a bit of the tension from the night’s previous events. you smiled and felt kix curl even closer to you, legs tangling with yours like they do every time you share a bed. “thank you fives, your heroism is most appreciated.”

kix chuckled into your skin and began to leave soft kisses on the skin there. “now leave us alone, dumbass. i need some time with my girl.”

fives chuckles and rises from the chair that served as his bed the night prior, patting your leg as he walked by the cot you were laying in. “no funny business in the medbay, you two!” he jokingly wagged a scolding finger at you both.

“oh, get kriffed!”

fives’s head was the only thing visible to you now, a smirk on his face in spite of the somber mood he was in prior to your waking up. “that seems to be your goal, vod!”

your medic grabbed the nearest projectile and hurled it at his head, fives yelping as he ducked barely a second before a datapad stylus speared him in the eye. “thought he’d never leave,” kix jokes. you chuckle at the ribbing and let yourself rest. there was a lot of healing to be done before you’d be back to working shape, you knew that, but having your kix beside you would make it all the easier.

happy late birthday, kayla!!! love you bunches!!!

[cinnaminsvga]

zee if you want to sh*tpost (literally and figuratively sorry i'll take my joke and leave) you can! if you want to post nothing but that 24/7 then good for you (wait does tumblr still have post limit) good for me too cause idk i love your brain honestly.

if you got nothing to post that's okay too! whatever works for you...

but can i ask what is a shit post in your drafts that you'll be willing to share now? (i have like 78 drafts (cause i delete them after a bit) all random rambling or sh*tposts lmao)

i mean to be fair, i already don't post anything so i've already got that one down HAHAHHA but yea i've honestly been shitposting more on twitter bc i have less followers there and i feel?? less intimidated versus doing it here where there is a Large Number of People who could potentially see my shitposts but yeah :D i think i will be posting my shitposts here (including my shit-related stories) more often!!

and yeah i've shared a few shitposts a couple days ago, and i gotta say... i have like 500 drafts and i'd say they're like 60% nonsense, 20% old fic drafts, and 20% actual shitposts so i'll share like... this snippet of a discontinued fwb shitpost au that never saw the light of day enjoy (it's kinda nsfw but yea... it's dumb)

(basic plot is that yoongi and y/n are childhood best friends turned fwbs but!! add a large heaping spoonful of mutual pining and miscommunication and you get this >:D anyway this is the scene near the end where y/n is trying to confess but yoongi is mad bc he has a dick rash from too much sex lol)

“Yoongi, are you awake?”

The man in question lets out a soft grumble, his eyes still clenched shut even when he responds. “Wish I wasn’t. Why? If you’re gonna ask me if we can fuck, I’m going to strangle you.”

You squawk indignantly, pinching his underarm fat in retaliation. “Hey! I don’t always ask for sex.”

Yoongi snorts. “Well, say that to the rash on my fucking dick. Which, by the way, is entirely the reason I can’t sleep right now.”

You roll your eyes. “Stop overreacting, you big baby.”

At your taunt, Yoongi’s eyes shoot open. “What the fuck?!” he growls, shoving your shoulder. “You saw how it looked like! It looked like a squirrel nibbled on my cock like it was a fucking churro."

You level him with deadpan stare. "What do you mean? It already looked like that before the dick rash happened."

Not deigning your with a response, Yoongi shifts an inch away from you, turning over with a loud huff. "Go back to sleep, Y/N."

"Yoongi, come back," you whine, shaking him by the shoulders. "This is actually really important. I think I've had an epiphany."

"Really? I didn't think that could happen. Aren't you required to, like, have a functioning neural system for that?" Yoongi drones, voice dripping with exhaustion. You honestly feel kind of bad for annoying him when he clearly just wants to go to bed, but you needed to talk to him before your caffeine-induced confidence ebbs away.

"Yoongi, please. I'm not kidding."

Yoongi yawns, snuggling deeper into his blanket. "So am I. We can talk when it's not deadass o' clock, okay? Sweet dreams, Y/N."

There's a beat of silence. You wait to hear if Yoongi's breath to deepen, but it doesn't come. You count to ten in your head slowly, before releasing a sigh filled with so much melancholic emotion that it surely could have landed you an Oscar nomination. Or at the very least, it gave you Yoongi's attention.

With a resigned sigh of his own, Yoongi rolls over to face you, his bedhead momentarily blinding him (but not protecting him from the foul stench of your morning breath). He brushes his bangs away and is greeted by the sight of your normally cheerful face scrunched up in worry. “Oh. Are you being serious right now?”

“I’m always serious,” you scoff. “I’m so serious that business majors probably get wet dreams about me.” You pause, thinking. “Or something like that. I don’t actually know what business majors do and I’m too afraid to ask at this point.”

“Y/N, we are literally sleeping on your Dora the Explorer bedsheets that you got for sale at a garage sale two years ago. This is the farthest thing from anything serious."

"Okay, no need to be project your dick rash rage onto Dora and Diego," you huff.

"I DO NOT HAVE DICK RASH RAGE?" he seethes.

"Spoken like a true dick rash rager," you respond calmly, further aggravating him. "Listen, I am trying to be serious here and you're honestly making it very hard right now—"

"Sorry," he says, sounding somewhat genuinely remorseful.

"—which is suboptimal, considering your dick is very much out of commission right now—"

"ALRIGHT ASSHOLE I AM GOING BACK TO SLEEP!" Yoongi threatens to turn over once more, but not before you can sling him back towards you until your noses were just barely touching.

“Yoongi, you know that I value your honesty very much—”

“What the fuck,” Yoongi interrupts. He levels you with an incredulous stare, his eyebrows arching comically. “No? You don’t? You literally tell me to shut up every time I tell you that your shoes are fugly as hell.”

“Those are my Crocs® and I would greatly appreciate it if you would keep your unsolicited opinions to yourself,” you counter. “But this time, I actually need your opinion on something so you’re free to be as brutally honest as you’d like.”

“Ah yes, my favorite pastime... Being a dickhead, but consensually,” Yoongi drawls.

[rk1kheadcanons]

NSFW? Connor has a lot of stamina in the bedroom. A LOT of stamina. So much that he finds it hard to keep partners. He can make lovers 2-3 times before he gets into it, and then it takes him more peaks to really feel satisfied. Sounds great until reality sets in nobody can or wants to have sex for that long :-( Markus isn’t far above average but he’s the first person to try and work with Connor’s unusual bedroom requirements instead of just ignoring it/being disgusted by it! Connor’s keeping him

Markus was always very curious as to why Connor was so reluctant to get into a sexual relationship with him even after dating for almost three months.

He'd asked probing questions about it, previous abuse or mistreatment, or to see if it was asexuality that Connor hadn't come to an understanding with or something else much more benign like body issues.

Maybe Connor was a trans male and he just hadn't said- didn't know how to broach the topic? In any case, Markus was Pan and would still love him to the moon and back.

Let's just say when they did decide to take that plunge, nothing could describe the scenario that unfolded.

It was so...much for such a little person.

He hurt. He had hurts on top of his hurts. He thinks he pulled a hammy. His arm may be out of the socket, he does not know right now.

He just wanted to lie there, naked, uncovered, his scratch marks and bites exposed to the early morning hours as the succubus slept like a curled up adorable baby.

What about his legs? I???? How was this life?

Markus swam in and out of consciousness.

Six times... Or actually, it was right counting the oral and the- God.

They had gone at it consecutively eight fucking times and while it had been a long ass time and it felt good at the moment, Markus got a sneaking suspicion that Connor had been game for even more as he wore his hot pink flush head to toe, covered in sex bites and bruises, sweat-curled hair that was airdrying rapidly, and he bounced in place in the bed and started looking on Tumblr for shitpost to snort at post-orgasmic bliss.

Markus was trying to just breathe and remember key dates and times, his name and regain feeling in his extremities, and-

"Do you have donjuanism?"

"No, I just really, really enjoy sex."

-He says with an adorable smile that doesn't fit the profile of a real-life sex demon.

Okay, then.

Markus would do everything in his power to get his baby off but make it enjoyable for both of them, too. He's not a quitter and he loves Connor to bits and pieces so the first line of defense is to talk. They come to a consensus on a day and they take the weekend for their plan.  They have lube, they have in-between snacks, and they get horny so they are ready.

This is a process and they both know that.

They both strip off those pesky clothing and they both take the time to explore each other's sensitive spots.

Connor has a freakish amount of energy, as such, could orgasm several times and then be ready to get into it. The more he comes, the higher the enjoyment of the act which then starts to affect him overall. In short, it takes several bouts of lovemaking with orgasms to make a culmination of one large experience for Connor.

Once you do reach it, which the average person has not because they have not tried to puzzle it out, you will blow his mind, short his ass out. Markus likes challenges so at the risk of life and limb, he takes up the gauntlet of horny.

What Markus lacked in one session he made up for in the skill shown in the consecutive sessions due to an amazingly short refractory period and excellent staying power and  fucking size. 

Connor is a size Queen and no one will shame him on that.  

For everything else, they would have top of the line toys.

 Markus' first major purchase for Connor was a Sybian in a lovely blue color he knew Connor loved with all the attachments he could ask for.

Markus would get that edge off of Connor then wear his ass out.  He didn't care if it was him first, then the machine, then him again, or reverse of this setup, he was going to wear Connor out.

He also knows that Connor's mouth was sensitive, that he could cum from getting his throat fucked so he definitely would be incorporating that into the plans as well no memes for Connor this time or hopefully going forward.

Imagine how smug yet impossibly in love with Connor he'd be if he, by trial and error, successfully got him to not only cum satisfied because they talked about Connor's needs, but he came so hard, he drifted off to sleep in good exhaustion.

Markus would be so proud of himself and Connor would be forever sprung on this man who took the time to try to work with his 'condition.'

[obutsuwrites]

work friends (miruko x reader, part 2)

summary: basically, miruko convinces reader to meet at the mall. possessive behavior and fingering ensue. 

warnings: light dom/sub, thigh riding, face-sitting, vaginal fingering, mommy kink

part one

my ao3 for more shitposts

my ko-fi~!

word count: 3,729

A high-pitched chirp pierced the woman’s dreamless sleep. Setting such a deafening ringtone was supposed to be an advantage. Hot stories don’t stop once night falls, an unfortunate truth the woman had already learned. The woman rolled over; tired hands latching onto her phone.

「UNKNOWN NUMBER」 | 12:45 am

ur laugh was almost cute 🤪

Speak of the devil, and she will appear.

Air caught in her throat, somehow worse than a punch in the gut. Crimson eyes burned in the woman’s mind. Cherry pits she couldn’t ignore. She exhaled. The act was almost orgasmic as greedy lungs resumed function.

What… what do I say? Naturally, words came to the woman like magic. A gift she attributed to countless All Might articles. All Might. His name felt heavy somehow now. The woman sighed and typed a short response.

「XXX」 | 12:47 am

This is Miruko, right?

Three dots appeared as half lidded eyes struggled to maintain focus. What does this stupid bunny want this late? Her mind felt fuzzy, as if she hadn’t slept at all. Exhaustion was rooted in her bones; a slow ache.

「UNKNOWN NUMBER」 | 12:48 am

wats ur addy

Of course. Wait. Is… is she trying to hook up? A lump of disgust and anxiety swelled within her stomach. Casual sex wasn’t foreign to the woman. It was a concept she celebrated, but the image of hungry, crimson eyes plagued her. Carnivorous orbs that threatened to eat her alive.

「XXX」 | 12:49 am

You woke me up. It’s *midnight*. I can interview you tomorrow.

This was a bargaining chip. Perhaps ignorance would save her. Or maybe I’m committing career suicide, she mused. Rumors and whispers of reporters doing “favors” for interviews wasn’t unheard of. Morality wasn’t a concern for the perfect article.

The woman stared intently at her phone, eyes bleary and heavy. Dread mounted in her stomach as minutes passed. The woman rubbed her eyes. Maybe she’s asleep already. The thought brought her comfort as sleep dusted over her. Fatigue had won.

≛

A hearty exhale left the woman as throbbing muscles stretched against morning light. Another dreamless sleep with a side of awkward sleeping positions. Nothing out of the ordinary for her. She layed in bed, determined to absorb the early sunlight. Eventually, the woman rolled over and began to check emails. Ignorance was a blessing. The woman’s phone vibrated in her hand, the motion jarring and obnoxious. Right. The rabbit.  

「UNKNOWN NUMBER」 - INCOMING CALL

Red eyes flashed through her mind. Soft hands trembled, knuckles white and taunt. Her finger hovered over the answer button. The notification was imposing; a beast that dwarfed her. An electrical wave crept through the woman’s spine. Anxiety now rooted in her stomach.

“H-hello?”

The pro hero snickered. “Finally ya answer, kit. Think you owe me your name for the wait.” She could almost feel Miruko’s hot breath through the phone. A sweltering gust that starved the room of oxygen.

The woman swallowed, saliva thick and tongue bulky. She muttered her name like a prayer.

“Cute name, kit. You never replied to my text. Still game?” Miruko’s voice cut into the word kit, as if it were an insult. Belittling.

She shifted in bed, words unable to become tangible. Prey caught in the powerful jaws of a predator. Shivers continued to assault the woman as she opened Miruko’s text.

「UNKNOWN NUMBER」 | 12:55 am

watever. meet me @ hiro mall.

Hiro Mall. Hiro Mall! She giggled; the sound unnatural and falsetto. A laugh she hated. Hiro Mall was thirty minutes away via car, but… I don’t own a car. No reliable transportation!

“I don’t live near Hiro Mall. S-sorry, can’t do it.”

Miruko’s thin lips pulled a mischievous grin. “Don’t apologize, it’s annoying like that laugh. I’ll pick you up,” the Rabbit Hero insisted, tone assertive and deep. Like rich chocolate.

A sour expression spread through the woman’s features, panic in her veins. An icy chill ran into her skull. The beginnings of a migraine.

“N-no it’s fine. You’re probably too far away.” She glanced around, desperate to escape the call. “We can arrange an interview later in the week.” A mall is too unprofessional anyway.

“C’mon. I gotta scoop for you, little kit.” Miruko sounded almost eager. A tight edge to her voice.

Another laugh left the reporter as she spoke, “Listen, M-Mi-Miruko… I appreciate this offer I really do. I just can’t today. I have -- I have other arrangements today.”

The Rabbit Hero released a hearty chuckle. Playing hard to get, huh?

“Can’t clear your schedule for an interview with the number seven pro hero Miruko?” She teased.

She feigned a smile. “I did agree, didn’t I? O-okay. I’ll text you my address.” There was no escape from the rabbit. Coils of anxiety refused to unravel within her gut. Painful, hot bundles that tore into her.

“Good kit.” A click followed the rabbit’s voice. The woman released a pent-up whine.

Are all pro heroes this rude?  

≛

“I like your hat,” the woman mused, her sentence punctuated by a gentle chuckle. Miruko’s ears twitched at the sound.

Pro hero Miruko stood before her in casual attire; denim shorts, a plain t-shirt, and a brown baseball cap. It felt almost wrong to see the number seventh hero like this. Vulnerable. Human.

“That laugh was cute. Why don’t you laugh like that?” The ghost of a smirk rested against Miruko’s lips. Blush for me, kit.

A yell echoed through the mall before the woman could reply, “Hey! It’s Miruko! Miruko, can I get an autograph?!” Like magic, a young boy appeared in front of the couple, his smile was sunlight. Too bright to ignore. Pen and paper in tiny hands.

Crimson eyes observed the child with anticipation. She was not a rabbit, but a peacock. A peacock that revelved in attention.

“Sure!”

Miruko bent down and lightly grabbed the parchment from the boy; signing an indecipherable signature. The action seemed too gentle for the carnivorous woman. She’s creepy when she’s nice, the reporter thought as a shiver crawled down her skeleton. Like a dull ache in her bones.

The boy’s face broke out in a boyish grin; a smile too big for his face. Curious orbs drifted from the mythical hero and stuck to the unfamiliar figure beside the rabbit.

“Hey… are you a hero too? Are -- are you Miruko’s friend?” the boy prodded, his voice soaked in excitement and stars in his eyes.

The woman awkwardly shuffled and inspected her shoes. A pit began to widen in her stomach. The feeling left her empty and anxious. Starving. “Sorta. Work friends.”

“What’s it -- “

Before the child could ask, Miruko interjected. The woman’s tone was hard and rough, like sandpaper. “Sorry kid. We gotta bounce.”

Calloused hands reached for the reporter, finding purchase around her waist. A quiet yelp was exhaled from the woman; the sound sharp and sudden. Maroon rage bubbled under Miruko’s intense gaze as she ushered the woman away.

“Friends?” Miruko hissed, a dangerous glint in her eyes. The woman felt like injured prey, ready for the slaughter. “We’re not friends and you fucking know it.” Snowy ears twitched in annoyance. Little kit doesn’t know her place. The thought was venomous and ravenous; a lion starved and wild.

Her hand burns.

"Miruko… Are we not friends?" Curious eyes locked onto the rabbit. Begging for Miruko's attention. Was a pro hero a liar? Her brain felt branded by the question. Burnt. Ruined.

Large hands released the woman. Strong arms encased the woman; like a dragon hoarding gold. A wolf with teeth trained on a young doe. Poised, prepared. Miruko's heart threatened to leap from her chest, the sound like thunder. The woman couldn't ignore the roar against her.

The hero swallowed. "I want you to call me Usagi. No, Usagi. It'd sound cuter coming from you." Miruko grinned, lips too tight and teeth too sharp.

"Usagi, let me go. This is too intimate," the woman stated plainly. The situation was too familiar. Too similar to last night.

"You like my hat?"

Gross hot carrot breath.

Silver strands hung over muscular shoulders as a confident voice tickled the woman's ear.

"I'll try some on for you, because it's you!" Stars danced in Miruko's eyes. Crimson orbs now enveloped in joy.

≛

The couple sat on a bench, both parties tired from a day of giggles and coy smiles. Hidden signs of affection between the two. A genuine laugh from the woman made Miruko’s ears twitch in excitement. It was the same feeling she experienced before; the hero’s stomach was in knots. A hot, tangled mess that stung.

Miruko watched as the reporter gingerly checked her emails. She demanded a detour to rest and get her bearings. Miruko peered over her shoulder, unaware of the anxiety that began to bubble in the woman’s throat. Like mucus stuck in her nose. Thick and suffocating.

The woman turned to her, lips tugged into a curt grin. Too formal, too polite.

“I was thinking,” she began; still enamored by work, “you promised me an interview. We can grab lunch and I can pick your brain.” Finally, I’ll get my story. The woman vibrated with elation. It was a buzz that warmed her down into her bones. Her dreams were within reach; so many opportunities.

Miruko’s calloused palm slid across the woman’s thighs, creeping along as if to memorize the supple flesh. The rabbit wanted to bury herself between them. Pillowy thighs that touched deserved to be worshipped.

She caressed the woman’s thigh as she spoke, “Don’t live too far from here… You like your coffee black?” The hero’s casual attitude left a horrible taste in her mouth. A bitter, rotten taste. Miruko’s hand was scorching against her thigh, a juxtaposition to her clammy skin.

“No, tea. I know… I know of a cafe not far from here.” Words were impossible again. Intangible things. The woman’s sentence was punctuated with a shrill chuckle, another sign of internal concern. A part of her dreaded being alone -- in a private space -- with the hero. Famished eyes still regarded her as prey. Oval cherries.

“Got tea, too. I think you’re just scared. I don’t bite!” Much, Miruko thought, playful lips stretched into a lop-sided grin. She was desperate to taste the woman, to spread her apart and worship. Miruko kneaded the doughly flesh underneath her, as she waited for a response.

Finally, the woman looked away; too ashamed to face the rabbit.

“O-okay.”

≛

Miruko’s apartment was unexpected. It was plain -- almost unbelievable to imagine a hero living here -- much less the number seventh hero. The only noteworthy addition were flowers, as if the room had exploded in a bomb of flora and perfume. They looked out of place with morning dew still fresh on vibrant petals. Was she anticipating this? Hints of flowers assaulted the woman’s nose; the smell was nauseating.

“I redecorated!” Miruko blurted out, a move uncharacteristic for the headstrong woman. She felt exposed like this. The object of her desires was so close -- and yet the rabbit had to be vulnerable. It wasn’t uncommon for Miruko to bring a woman home, but a sea of flowers wasn’t her normal. She was inexperienced in...  this. The hero’s heart began to tremble again, the sound booming, leaving her breathless.

The woman only nodded, as if aware of the lie. “Flowers are pretty, aren’t they? I suppose we can start with the first question; Miruko… you don’t have a scoop for me, d-do you?” Her voice faltered as the woman lost her conviction. Plush lips quivered, afraid of the answer.

Her lips look so soft. Without thinking, a tanned finger brushed against the woman’s lips. Miruko quickly withdrew her hand. A muted pink dusted her cheeks, like a child caught. The hero’s snowy ears burned with embarrassment.

“Do it again.”

“What?” Miruko asked, hungry eyes wide. Saliva pooled in her mouth. A predator drooling over wounded prey.

“D-do it a-again.” The woman’s tone was pleading, in need of attention.

My attention, Miruko thought as she swiped a thumb across delicate lips. The flesh reminded the rabbit of her thighs. A familiar heat began to pool in the bottom of her stomach. The rabbit inched closer; the woman’s chin cradled in her palm, thumb still caressing her lips like ritual. Touching the woman was electric. A shock that left Miruko in a daze of want.

Hot breath tickled the woman’s nose as Miruko spoke, “I’m going to kiss you.” Chapped lips collided against the woman. The kiss was forceful and hungry. A lion finally ravishing a meal. Miruko continued to lean into her, as if trying to establish dominance. Gentle hands rested against the rabbit’s toned chest. Miruko tasted like carrots and mint. An obvious attempt to hide the vegetable. The weight of Miruko caused the woman to stumble, and the pair landed awkwardly on the carpeted floor. Miruko landed on top of the woman, hard muscles pressed against delicate flesh.

“Sorry, kit. Guess I got a little too excited. Are you okay?” Miruko’s tone was laced with worry. The genuine concern was new to the woman. Humanizing. Patches of red decorated the woman’s cheeks and her heart pounded against her ribcage like a drum. The sound was deafening.

Red orbs watched with interest and long strands of silver hair settled across small shoulders. Her hair tickled. The woman tried to stifle a chuckle and nodded, even now her soft frame was dwarfed by the hero.

Abruptly, Miruko kissed her again, grinding wide hips into the woman. The rabbit’s hands transversed the woman’s body, starving for her touch. Calloused palms cupped large breasts and massaged. Miruko’s touch wasn’t gentle like a lover’s, but rough and greedy. An involuntary moan slipped from the woman, who was now unable to keep composure. The hero took advantage; seeing the moment of weakness as an opportunity, and jammed a wet tongue into her mouth. Miruko’s hot tongue explored the damp chasm. She wanted to commit every part of the woman to memory.

The rabbit pulled away, the act only to allow her companion fresh air. Lungs gasped for air. Hungry and starved. Before she could force in another lungful, Miruko pressed further against her, and roughly grabbed tiny wrists. The woman was puzzled by the action until she felt the warm presence of Miruko’s finger hooked around her waistband. Miruko licked her lips in anticipation as drool threatened to leak out.

Crimson orbs locked onto the woman, as if to ask permission.

“Please,” she begged. Her voice was small and quiet. Too ashamed to admit the burning ache that settled into her core. The need for Miruko hurt. The woman was racked with impatience. She wanted needed the hero’s greedy fingers in between her.

A thunderous laugh vibrated from Miruko as she discarded the woman's undergarments. “You’re so cute. Submissive and begging for Miruko the hero.” The rabbit shoved a thick finger in between large thighs -- thighs Miruko wanted to dig into. Miruko’s finger curled inside the woman’s craving, wet core. Vicious teeth were bared in a smirk; she could just eat the woman. Devore her whole. On instinct, Miruko’s mouth latched onto the woman’s neck. Her pulse was rapid against the hero’s tongue as Miruko began to suck upon the supple flesh. Erotic sounds of pleasure escaped the woman. Her face was flustered and on fire, a sweltering heat that ravaged her.

Determined fingers pumped into the woman’s slickness. She lifted her hips into Miruko, franic for the hero. Her stomach twisted as shivers shot through her spine.

“Tell Mirko the hero how needy you are. Beg for me.”

"U-Usagi --"

"Miruko," the hero corrected, her sentence punctuated by a second finger. The sudden intruder caused the woman to gasp. Such a cute noise! Miruko curled the second finger and pumped both digits in rhythm. The woman continued to lift her hips, greedy for Miruko's touch.

A low whimper drifted from the woman, "Mi-Miruko, please, please, please … Kiss me. Claim me." She shrunk under the rabbit's gaze. The heat across her cheeks felt permanent. The woman quickly turned away, too embarrassed to allow Miruko a peek.

Miruko grabbed her hips and shoved the soaking woman against her. A small puddle began to pool against the rabbit's shorts. The woman -- too enthralled by Miruko's fingers -- was blissfully unaware of her mess. Delicate wrists were released as sturdy hands palmed the wet spot.

"Look at what you did, kit," Miruko said, placing the woman's hand against the puddle. Gentle orbs locked onto the mess; her cheeks now a vibrant red. Like poppies on her cheeks. She quickly withdrew her hand; as if the puddle was fire.

The woman's voice was muffled and hushed. "I’m s-sorry…” she mumbled, her face hidden by trembling hands. Embarrassment was segmented back into her reality; the woman left too conscious of Miruko’s gaze. It was uncommon for strangers to see the woman so… exposed. Even past lovers weren’t afforded the treat.

“You’re just leaking for me. So fucking wet for Miruko.” She wiped a finger across the mess and used another hand to free the woman’s sight. “I want you to watch.” Miruko’s sentence was entwined with lust. An insatiable need. The rabbit brought her juice stained finger to her mouth and sucked, cannibalistic red eyes locked on the woman. Her pink tongue swirled around the digit. A line of saliva connected the rabbit’s finger as she slowly dragged the apendenge from her mouth. After teasing the woman, Miruko shoved the spit covered digit into the woman. Her cunt now ached with three thick fingers. It felt like too much; her core stretched around Miruko.

The hero didn’t continue to finger fuck the woman. Like a predator playing with injured prey. Enjoying her meal.

Pleading eyes bore into Miruko as she pulled her soaked fingers from the woman. Lips held a dirty smirk. “Rub your clit against my thighs, mommy wants to feel your cunt.” The woman winced at the word. It sounded so dirty, so inappropriate… and yet she shivered at the hero’s words. Desperate for relief, desperate for stimulation; the woman began to rub her slickness against the hero’s exposed thigh. Her face almost sizzled with a crimson blush. She felt the heat up to her ears. Molten lava.

The woman was unable to face Miruko’s starving eyes. Cherries that wanted to rip and tear into her. Muffled sobs racked the woman; the sensations of embarrassment and pleasure blended together in a blur of pathetic arousal. Her body betrayed her as she grinded harder into Miruko’s thigh, the stimulation proving not enough for her swollen clit. The woman could feel the hot blood that pulsed through her core.

“Mi-Miruko, f-fuck me,” she begged.

“Look at you, kit, using such dirty words. You call this begging? This is pathetic. Tell Miruko how much of a slut you are.” Her tone was aggressive, as if the woman’s pathetic nature was an offense.

She swallowed, her mouth devoid of spit as she sobbed, “Please, Miruko! I’m such a slut; I need your fingers! Please, please, please.” The woman’s sentence was chanted, almost like a mantra. A perverted prayer.

Sharp teeth clashed against the woman’s ear. “Sit on my face. Wanna fuckin’ drown in you.” Miruko’s voice was no higher than a whisper. Like a secret between friends. Without hesitation, the woman nodded and stood up as Miruko positioned herself between pillowy thighs. The rabbit’s mouth salivated in anticipation. I’m going to fucking devour you.

The woman slowly lowered herself onto the hero, afraid of injuring her. She wasn’t small and fit like Miruko. She was big and jiggly. Like jello. A body Miruko wanted to grab fistfulls of as she fucked her into a mattress; letting the woman know how beautiful she was. Her aching, wet cunt finally made contact with Miruko’s pink tongue. Sandwiched between gigantic thighs, Miruko began to run her tongue down the woman’s folds. The woman released a lustful moan. She clamped a hand to her shy mouth as Miruko’s tongue slipped into her. She yelped at the sudden action. Miruko snickered underneath the woman, her sounds were like calls from heaven. Honey that coated her ears in a thick sweetness.

She worked at the woman’s mound, only encouraged by her lewd sounds. The woman could no longer muffle her moans; her body stuck in a sea of shivers. Her tongue -- her tongue felt so fucking good. Wide hips grinded into Miruko, hungry to have her tongue deeper within. Two thick fingers plunged into her hole, replacing Miruko’s tongue. The rabbit’s digits slapped into the woman’s drenched thighs. Her tongue wandered up to a swollen, red clit. She took the bud into her mouth and swirled the blood filled nub.

“F-fuck…” A long moan punctuated her sentence as Miruko began to suck on her clit; her fingers scissoring within her, stretching her. The woman’s greedy walls contracted around Miruko. The woman’s large chest heaved as breathing seemed impossible. Hot, short breaths mixed with wails of ecstasy. Miruko continued to suck on the woman’s clit, treating her puffy nub like a treat. Her tanned face now slick with the woman’s juices. The room was filled with the sloppy sounds of the woman’s cunt and her moans. Miruko’s ears couldn’t help but rapidly twitch, the rabbit almost too excited.

“Stop… stop, I’ll cum!” The woman whined, her voice lecherous and heavy. Like a fog. Her confirmation caused Miruko’s fingers to ramp up in speed, fingers now curled inside. An audible pop sounded as Miruko released the woman’s puffy nub. The rabbit’s sharp teeth grazed the sensitive flesh. She alternated between sucking and nibbling the woman’s clit. The woman felt an uncomfortable tremble crawl through her stomach, settling at the bottom. Her body begged for release.

A string of profanities erupted from the woman as she came, juices squirting down Miruko’s chin. The hero licked her lips, still hungry. With her moment of bliss gone, and her body weak, the woman gingerly stood up. Her ears and face were a bright pink; like cotton candy.

Miruko gazed at the woman, a lop-sided smirk ghosting her face. “You got me drenched in your pussy. C’here and clean it up, kit.”

[joeys-time-capsule]

9/3/2021

First entry wooooo. This will be vaguely reminiscent of shitposting, so I will not be using my journalism skills whilst writing this. I’m just going to write, no strings attached. 

Today was fairly okay, and by okay I mean I didn’t necessarily want to off myself. I mean not very much, I guess. 

I started my morning by waking up at a crisp 7am, my usual routine set from being in the facility for so long. Its hard to break those habits, but at least that can be coded as something positive and rather productive. I do enjoy waking up in the morning glory, with the sun attempting to peek through my blackout curtains... it feels like I’m doing something properly rather than just laying in bed until I’m forced by my body to get up for food or the bathroom. 

For breakfast today, I just made eggs and toast because it feels like the further into the week I get, food is just... difficult. My dad works completely from home because of the pandemic but also because (and I can admit this without shame now) I’m a little bit high maintenance when it comes to mental health and basic human functions like showering and eating. 

Therapy was an absolute chore today. Always is, always will be. Listening to fucking Christina cry for half an hour seems counter-productive, and we hardly ever get to other people, let alone me. I think I would like it more if I actually got to talk through my issues more, but group therapy just isn’t a great place for that. If you’re not loud, you don’t really get to speak unless they force you. 

And when it comes to speaking, I’m worse-off in that department than ever. I don’t think I’ve actually said much in the past two weeks outside of “Hi, my name is Jocelyn, I go by Joey, I use they/them pronouns, and I’m a journalism and literature double major.” 

I seriously order everything on my phone and show the fast food workers my name and order number. It’s actually kind of pathetic, the more I think about it. I’ve said more in this post than I have verbally in days. Maybe weeks. I had to teach my dad a few signs like “water”, “school”, and of course “yes” and “no”. I feel like I disappoint him when I don’t talk, but... at least he tries to understand. 

I feel bad for my siblings, too. Step-siblings, that is. Today my brother wanted to play video games when I got home and I was so mentally exhausted from the week I’ve had that I had to just shake my head and walk away. He’s too young to understand all of this. Why I don’t talk. Why I hole myself up in my room and busy myself with homework that isn’t due for a week or two. And I’m never going to be able to explain everything to him. 

Oh, and not that any of the people who might read this know him, but shit with Anthony just keeps hitting the fan. He is a Grade-A pain in my ass. I wish I could look him in the eye and tell him that. If I had to think and count, I would say he’s given me.... 7 panic attacks this week alone? You do the math. I’m averaging one a day. One a day is for fucking vitamins, not anxiety attacks. 

Skip this next part if you don’t want a play by play about who Anthony is and what he’s done. 

Anthony is the man who ruined my life. Plain and simple. And he lives rent-fucking-free in my brain. Always. And I hate it. You know how usually when someone hurts you, a normal person would be able to move on? Nope. Been years. I still haven’t. Sorry, but I’m never going to “move on” from my assault. Especially not when he caused me to have a psychotic break right on the damn anniversary of said assault. It’s because of him that I’m terrified of fucking parties and pick up trucks and why I can’t wear skirts without feeling like I’m heading straight for death. It’s because of him that if I have kids one day, I will be driving them to their school dances. They won’t be riding with their dates. Not until I can gauge whether or not their prospective partner is good for them. And believe me, he was good to me. Until he wasn’t. And he’s all I’ve thought about this week, a relentless memory that plays over and over in my head like a broken record. This is the shit I need to spout about in therapy, but I just can’t. I want to talk about every detail. How he picked me up that night with the most charming smile, and by the end of the night, seemed to hate my guts. How he looked my father in the eye knowing what he was going to do later on if I said no to him. I want to talk about how I didn’t move from my bed, until I had to, how I didn’t go to school for DAYS. And how when I came back, I was just another whore. A football player’s trophy. How his actions have ravaged me and made me the submissive, sad, little person I am. How I can’t talk most of the time because of him. I want to sit and dissect all of it, find out where the hell I went wrong. But goddamn, there isn’t enough time in the day to do all of that. 

Anyways. Enough about him for today, because I assure you there will be a time where I can tell my story fully and I don’t want to bore you all before I get to that point in my life. 

In summation, didn’t kill myself today. I call that a win. I ate two full meals, I did my homework, and I went to therapy. That’s good enough for a Friday. 

Until the next time I ramble,

Jo.

[adhdeancas]

Sunset Sound: Gallows Pole

In the midst of the Lawboy shitposting, a Sam-centric chapter to see what he got up to after Dean went to hell. Special thanks to my bro @friedchickenangelwings for keeping me in check forever and always, I wouldn’t be able to do this without you.

Sam sobs. He can’t help it; he can’t do anything else. His big brother’s body is impaled on the post in front of him, the ground is littered with beheaded bodies, and two little boys are crying outside somewhere in the dark. And he can’t stop crying.

“It’s not okay. It’s not!” 

He tries to take back those words that had made his brother leave, but Dean's chest doesn’t shudder back into life, and it won’t. It hangs there, heavy and lifeless, and it always will. Dean is dead. 

And for what?

When Sam’s head starts to pound from the tears, he finally takes breaths to calm himself. Common sense floods back into his head and overtakes his grief, and he pulls Dean’s body off the stupid rusty nail that killed him. He lowers him to the ground and closes his eyes, because he can’t bear to look at his dead stare any longer. 

He doesn’t want to leave the barn. He knows he has to, but he doesn’t want to leave his brother there all alone. That’s what Dean had always been most afraid of: being alone. He stands frozen to the spot for more minutes than he should, trying to reason with his grief. Finally, finally, he wins, and he turns around to see his breath in the air before him. Sam immediately gasps, another desperate sob coming from nowhere, because the night isn’t cold enough for that.

“Dean?” He screams it. “Dean!” It’s gotta be him, Dean’s a ghost, Dean’s here, Dean’s trying to talk to him. “Dean!” 

“No, I’m sorry, Sam.” Kevin Tran flickers to form in front of him, pity and sadness in his eyes. “But Dean’s okay.” 

Sam rubs his eyes. He thinks for a second he’s hallucinating again, that losing Dean for real broke down all the sanity he’d built over the years. “K-Kevin?” Though he didn’t know it was possible, his stomach takes yet another plunge, like a boulder has just been dropped on him. Kevin’s incorporeal form shakes into being the thought once more that he did that, his hands killed Kevin, he’s the reason Kevin is a ghost. He’s in a room with the corpse and untethered soul of two people he loves and two people he watched die.

As if sensing all the ways Sam is shaking apart, Kevin nods and starts to reach out before realizing it would be no use. “Yeah, Sam, it’s me.” 

“But- w-w why?” Sam curses his voice for failing him, curses the shaking that sobbing left him with, curses it because he needs to be strong now. For Dean. “Why didn’t you help us?” A ghost would’ve been a great thing to have in a fight! A ghost could probably, I don’t know, push Dean away from a deadly-sharp hook on the wall? If Kevin has been here, why- “Is Dean in the veil? Can he hear me? Dean!” 

Kevin throws a gust of air in his face to get his attention, and it hits Sam like a slap. He looks back at the ghost, wideyed. Kevin looks apologetic. “I don’t have a lot of time, but you need to calm down. Seriously.”

“I can’t calm down-”

“No, Sam, you need to calm down.” Kevin looks upward nervously, as if he’s expecting to see some big figure raise the roof of the barnhouse up and peek down at them. “I’ll explain, but first thing you need to know is: Dean’s dead. He’s in heaven, and he’s in trouble.” 

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

Sam drives the Impala at exactly the speed limit, eyes dried to the point of aching. Dean’s wrapped body is sprawled out in the back seat, and if Sam just glances in the rearview mirror he can almost pretend he’s just passed out. Just had one too many shots of Cuervo and conked out so his little brother can drive. Sure. Whatever gets you through the night. 

Dropping off the kids was easy. Traumatized kids don’t say much, don’t ask too many questions, and they’ll forget the shellshocked stranger that saved them soon enough. Either that or he will haunt their nightmares, but Sam can’t help that. He can’t help anyone at this point, covered in dirt and blood and exhausted. He drives out to the middle of the forest anyway, Kevin’s words on a loop in his head. 

“You have to be normal. Chuck can’t want to watch you at all. So just play into his game. Pretend to only care about Dean, get out of the life, settle down.”

Sam had frowned, Eileen instantly springing to his mind. Surely he can care about her, right? “But-” 

“No, Sam, I’m sorry. Dean told me to tell you that Eileen… it’s just too dangerous. He likes you two. He’s gotta hate your life so much he doesn’t want to see it. It’s gotta bore him.” 

So Sam burns his brother's body in a forest alone, with only Miracle for company. There’s a dagger in his chest that tells him he’s betraying everyone he cares about, including Dean. Dean wanted a big funeral. He wanted his whole family there, not just his brother and a dog. And Eileen. There are three unread texts and a missed video call from Eileen already. Apparently Kevin hadn’t visited her yet. To let her know. 

It doesn’t take Sam long to leave the bunker. It just feels like a punch to the gut at this point. That table over there, carved with their family’s names, that’s where he and Dean swore they’d be free. They swore they’d get everything they wanted and everything they deserved. And now Sam has one pillow on his bed and an empty bunker full of the possessions of dead people. 

He knows there is a plan. He knows that. And it should comfort him, but it doesn’t, because he still has to live his long, boring, lonely life without the woman he loves or the family he misses or the brother he mourns. Time on Earth is torturously slow. 

The small things make the ache in his heart just a little lighter. He finds a job he likes, teaching history and the classics to teenagers. He remembers his old English teacher, and he tries to be that to kids that need it, kids that remind him of Claire or Jack. He gets to see Jody and the girls once every few years, a risk that he knows is worth it because it keeps him going. He can’t see Eileen. It would hurt too much. They both agreed the one time they called. He keeps learning ASL anyway, and he tells the story of him and Eileen meeting (slightly modified) to the kids in his class. 

He finds a wife. It was one of the things he put off, but after three years he knows he has to get on with it or he’ll get depressed. He needs someone, even if she is boring and too-nice and entirely too gullible. She’s nice and he’s good to her, but he can’t love her because she’s not real. Not in the way that Eileen is. She might as well be a blurred out mother figure action doll, for all she knows. And he hates himself for marrying her, when she deserves someone who finds her boringness interesting, but he knows this is what Chuck expects. He expects Sam to marry a nice woman and have a kid named Dean and grow old always hurting for the old times. Oh, and Sam does. 

He’d rather be back in the pit with Lucifer than this domestic djinn dream, but he reminds himself every day that someday they’re going to get rid of Chuck and then he’ll be able to live. Dean too. Cas too. And Jack. Sam’s going to kill that son of a bitch if it’s the last thing he does, living or dead. And it looks like it’ll be dead.

His fiftieth birthday has come and gone when Kevin finally comes back. The lights in Sam’s classroom flicker and go out, and then Kevin is there, chest heaving. He runs to the chalkboard and picks up a piece of chalk, and Sam’s talking as he writes. 

“Kevin, how’s Dean? Any updates on what’s happening in heaven? Is Chu-Jack okay?”

Kevin turns around, irritated, until he sees the look on Sam’s face. “Yeah, listen, everything is… fine. We’re working on it. Look, the important thing is that you get these ingredients-” he points to the chalkboard, “and perform the spell. But listen, it’s gotta be next week. Friday. There’s a full moon, it’s… you gotta make it happen.” 

Sam’s eyes bulge. “Friday? Kevin, what the hell, a little notice would be nice! How am I supposed to get-” he looks past him to the hastily written ingredients. “These ingredients are insane! It’lll take me weeks just to fly around the fucking world to grab them!” 

Kevin throws his hands up, looking almost as stressed as Sam. “Listen, man, we’re doing our best up there! Time is fucked up and we’re trying to be sneaky and it is a lot of pressure!” he finally takes a deep breath, which seems to help. “I’m sorry, I know it’s too much to ask, but we have no choice. Call a witch friend for the ingredients, summon Rowena and let her in on the plan. It’s Friday or never.” 

He flickers out before Sam can even reply. Apparently the stress and talking like that took too much out of him. Sam’s left alone to say “Sorry,” to an empty classroom. He sits down heavily at his desk and runs a hand through his graying hair. 

He copies down the ingredients and the spell and it’s then that he knows he definitely needs help. Luckily, he knows who to call. 

The phone rings so long Sam thinks about hanging up, but he picks up just before he can. “Sam!” Max sounds winded, and the first thought that enters Sam’s head is not appropriate for the occasion. 

“Hey Max, you got a second? You’re not…” busy? Jesus, Sam is blushing.

Max laughs. “Nah, you’re good, man. What’s up?” 

God, to speak to someone who understands his life again. To really get to talk to them. “Uh, it’s kinda not the kind of thing to talk about over the phone. Can I drive to you?” 

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

“Hey, Rowena,” 

Sam’s natural state is apparently social awkwardness now. Dean would say that had always been true… No, not the time to get sidetracked with that sad shit. He shuffles his feet again and adjusts a candle, waiting for Rowena to appear. He’s fifty fucking years old. He’s fine.

“Hello, dearie.” 

Sam grins at her, but is once again met with the sad eyes Kevin always gives him. “Fuck, can everybody stop with the dead brother horrible life shit?” She doesn’t look taken aback, no that’s not Rowena. She looks more like a school principal that just got told off by an 8th grader, surprised and a little offended. Sam softens a little bit. “Sorry, I just- listen, I get it, okay? My life is fucked up and it’s all a lie to beat God, I know. Can we move past that and get back to the saving the world stuff?” 

A slow smile spreads across Rowena’s face, and she pats him on the cheek. “There she is. Hello, Samuel.” 

Sam rolls his eyes. “Hi Rowena, how are you?” 

“Oh, just dandy. Tamped down a few ne’er-do-wells, not a problem. Being worshipped every day is hard work, but I manage, somehow.” 

“I’m sure. ‘Jack’ giving you any trouble?” 

She waves a dismissive hand. “I’ve barely seen the boy since he took over. Apparently he’s much more interested in watching his little short films in heaven than anything down below…” Sam’s got a question on his lips but she waves that away too. Too little time to explain the intricacies of eternal family drama that heaven is currently. “It doesn’t matter. I have free reign, which means I can pop in for our little soirees.” 

Sam nods, grateful that that’s true at least. He hands her the list of ingredients and the spell and watches as she studies it. “Problem?” 

“Hm. No, I can do that.” She looks up brightly at him. “I’m the greatest witch of all time, Samuel. I’m more worried about how you will accomplish it.” She looks down at his summoning ritual and bends down to correct a chalk mark with her finger. “You’re a wee bit rusty.” 

Sam scoffs. He’s missed this. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I called up my friend Max, Max Banes. He’s going to help me out.” 

“Max Banes? Hm.” For a second, Sam thought he saw something flash across Rowena’s face.

“What?” 

“Nothing.” She shrugs it off. “I’ve heard of the witch, that’s all. He’ll be good help for you, I’m sure. Now, Samuel, if you’ll excuse me… Underworlds to run and all that.” She steps away, but Sam stops her before she can disappear again.

“Wait!” He hugs her tightly. She only resists for a moment before she returns the hug, a light tap on his shoulder. “Thank you, Rowena.” 

“Of course, Samuel. Until next time.” 

She’s gone with a puff of smoke and Sam is left hugging air.

tag list (ask to be added or removed):

Tag list: @dochunterwitch  @justonecitizenoftheearth @gnbrules @purpe @castiel-is-a-cat @alienapparatus @damian-janus-pendragon

[daedrabela]

when i say "i'm not a morning person" i mean:

- i never wake up feeling rested, regardless of sleeping time, but getting up earlier than 8 or 9am is a death sentence for my mood, my head, and/or my stomach

- it takes me anywhere from 10 to 45 minutes to convince my body to move out of bed

- i cannot speak, and no i don't mean in a "haha! before my coffee! lol!" kind of way. i mean in a "i cannot piece together a sentence to reply to you, let alone stop myself from getting violent if you don't shut the hell up right now" kind of way.

- caffeine has no effect on me. i do not get better after any coffee, tea, or energy drinks. the most it does is give me a weird electric headache that makes me dazed.

- i am not motivated or excited by anything about my day. the only thing that convinces me to move is anxiety. i am terrified of the consequences enough that i will move only out of fear.

- sometimes eating solid food too early makes me extremely nauseous. sometimes the food doesn't stay down. this is why i skip breakfast, it has nothing to do with wanting to lose weight (that's another story)

- on top of never waking up rested, i never fall asleep easily. it can take me up to 2 hours to fall asleep, even when i'm exhausted and even if it's a daytime nap. sometimes having someone with me helps, sometimes it doesn't.

- i have gone to bed early. i have gone to bed as soon as i've returned home from work. i have had sleepytime tea. i have taken a bath. i have done all of this before bed. it doesn't help. if you tell me to go to bed early, i'll send you to the grave early. fuck off.

- i am grumpy. i am cranky. sleeping poorly for many years has affected my mood greatly. you're not funny, you're not making a joke, you're not making things better, and you're not saying anything new, so just shut the hell up.

- and when i say "i'm tired" this is only half of what i mean. i am also emotionally compromised at least once a day, and i'm exhausted mentally as well as physically. just give me a fucking break.

- i'm not posting this to be ~°*ReLaTaBLe*°~ this is my daily fucking experience and i know others can relate and/have the same experience but this isn't a fucking cutesy meme shitpost for your "depressed baby" blog, please find one of the other millions of brainless airhead "am sleepy" posts out there and fuck off of mine.

[hilllsnholland]

Sunset

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader 

W.c: 1.3k 

Warnings: Hospitals? 

Summary: Tom needs something to take his mind off the surgery. 

A/N: This is my submission for @laureharrier and @tommyparkerr Post-Endgame Depression Writing Challenge! This is also the first thing I’ve written since I took my finals so I’m back to my usual shitposting and writing. Please enjoy. 

The room was cold. The whole god damn hospital was cold, but you didn’t want to complain. You were here for Tom, who was in a tremendous amount of pain that you would never wish on anybody. You looked over at him, he’s sat up straight with his fingers playing with the tubing into his arm. You jump up immediately and slap his hand away. 

“Stop messing with your IV,” You grab his hand and he looks at you with deep bags under his eyes. 

“You looked cold and tired. I was going to ask a nurse to grab you blankets,” 

His voice is small as he looks at you through half-lidded eyes. He’s exhausted too, the pain had kept him up for two nights straight. You had warned him about working so hard and pushing himself too much. Tom was so focused on finishing his movie and going on the press tour that he ignored the aching pain in his body until he collapsed in the middle of the airport. Appendicitis, treatable and most likely non-threatening, but it still scared you to death. 

“You have a call button for that. What’s up?” You take a seat on the foot of the hospital bed and looked to your boyfriend. 

Tom lays back into the pillows, huffing audibly in discomfort. He was a man of action and being confined to a bed for three days was torture on his mind. You wished to take him for a walk around the grounds, but he was seriously sick. The surgery would be performed later tonight and he needed to be well rested. 

“I’m scared,” He says while looking away sheepishly. “Like, what if something goes wrong?”

“Nothing will go wrong. The doctors here are the best and this is a routine procedure-“

“But I’ve seen enough Grey’s Anatomy to know it doesn’t always go okay.” 

You want to laugh but he looks serious. Tom was not afraid of anything. He would dive headfirst into shark-infested waters if it meant that he’d have a cool story to tell. You grip his hand tighter, kissing the knuckles that were slightly bruised from stunts. 

“I understand.” You tighten your other hand to the blankets on the bed. “You don’t know what will happen, but you have to put your trust in it. I’ll be here waiting for you though. Just think of that.” 

“You’re the only one keeping me at ease right now Y/N. I don’t know what I’d do without you,” 

There’s a moment of silence where the both of you relish in his words. The past year has been nonstop adventures, laughing, and falling in love with your best friend. Tom could brighten any day and he’d give anything to make you smile. It was your turn to return the favor. You had to soften his stress, and you had just the place to do it. 

“Wait right here.” 

Tom furrows his brows at you while you get up and cross the room to look outside the door. After three days of sitting and waiting for nurses, you had learned their schedule somewhat. They were making final rounds before shift changes and a devious smile grows on your face. 

“Do you trust me?” You ask proudly. 

“With my life,” 

Tom smiles as you swing out a wheelchair from the hallway. He doesn’t know your exact plan but he knows it will be something good. You help Tom out of bed and untangle the IV stand from the rest of the wires. Shift change would be such a rush they might not even notice he’s gone. You wait a moment until all the nurses seem to be out of view, either in other rooms or in the lounge, and you make your move. Pushing Tom into the nearest elevator and pushing the top floor button, he smiles knowing exactly where you’re taking him. 

“The roof huh?”

“Shut up or I’ll wheel you back down.” 

Smirks align on both of your faces. It was a special thing for the two of you, watching the sunset on top of the roof. That’s where he kissed you for the first time. It was his housewarming party, he invited you to watch the sun dip into the horizon, the sky turning hues of pink and purple, and his lips looked so kissable. Then when you told him you loved him. It was on the roof of a premiere afterparty. The sun fell behind the skyline and it wasn’t as pretty as the first one, but it felt like heaven to get those three words off your chest. 

“Will you get mad if I don’t propose to you on top of a roof?” Tom questions as the elevator doors open. 

“Not really, as long as you’re there I don’t mind,” He smiles and you push him to the roof door. “But you have to feed me though,” 

Tom rolls his eyes at you but he can’t go far. He’s bound to his wheelchair and the IV stuck in his arm. You maneuver him up the three steps and you’re finally on top of the hospital just in time for the sun to hit the edge of the earth. You push him towards the sight and the rays of sunlight make his pale skin shimmer. You hated to see him so sick, but the way his eyes came to life brought you the fiery sensation of clarity. He’d be alright. Tom always makes it out alright. 

“Remember this sunset when you go under,” You say against the skin of his ear. “Picture this moment and come back so we can relive it.” 

Tom smiles at your words, pulling your waist sharply so that you’re sitting on his lap. He pushes the hair from your eyes, kissing your nose softly. In this pure moment, you felt his heartbeat under your hand. His little crinkles by his eyes were emphasized by the setting sun, his eyes gleaming with sprinkles of golden flecks. He was beautiful. 

“I’ll always come back to you,” 

Tom has that look in his eye that you know too well. It’s the look that turns your world, the look that made you believe that he really loved you. His eyes are transfixed on yours, the corners of his lips perking up, and all he can do is lean forward. Your lips meet his and it feels like the hundred of kisses before. It’s soft and it gives you those butterflies that can not be replicated. In all your years on earth, there has never been a feeling like this. Nothing makes you feel the way Tom’s lips do in that moment. As you pull away the sun dips under the horizon and the fading warm tones turn slowly darker. 

“We missed it,” He laughs. 

“We’ll get more after your surgery,” 

You kiss the top of his head and untangle yourself from his arms and lap. Tom gives you a pout but you continue to wheel him back down to the elevator. Tom’s fingers played with his IV again, this time from nerves and not stir-craziness. You eased him by playing with the curls that laid wildly on his head, a relieved smile appeared on his face accompanied by tired eyes. 

You were able to maneuver yourself back to the room without getting caught by any nurses and helped Tom back into his bed. It didn’t take long for him to fall asleep. He looked like an angel. He was finally relaxed and his body melted into the slumber, finally he would get some rest and you could too. The pullout bed looked unsatisfying though so you opted for the small amount of room left in Tom’s bed. You only had a few hours left until Tom would be prepped for surgery so you joined him in the much-needed rest. Your head laid on his chest while you listened to his heartbeat. The rhythm lulled you to sleep while the vision of a beautiful sunset was tattooed into your mind. 

[lilfellasblog]

Knight in Shining Armor - Roman’s 2019 Birthday Fic!

Summary: When Thomas has an allergic reaction, Virgil’s anxiety gets stuck on high-alert. Will he have to face it alone?Hello! Despite how the summary makes it sound, this is actually a fic for Roman Creativity Sander’s birthday! Happy birthday to the dramatic, passionate Side that inspires Thomas and keeps him going!

A/N: If you like this please reblog. It is the only way for this writing to reach a wider audience. Tumblr ate most of my fics that I know I posted here, which makes me very sad for a lot of reasons, one of the biggest being that the love and comments and tags that folks showed this fic is gone into the ether.

TW: Minor allergic reaction, anxiety, feeling of breathlessness that comes from anxiety. Let me know if I missed any!

Word Count: 1741

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Earlier that morning, Thomas had woken up at his friend’s house after a bit too wild of a night. He had groaned and stretched, trying and failing to open his eyes past the searing headache, when he felt weight drop on his chest.

His eyes slammed open and he was face-to-face with a very fluffy cat.

“Oh my goodness!” Thomas cooed as he brought his hand up. He let the cat smell his hand, then started gently petting its head and neck. The cat was a light gray color with yellow eyes and a very poofy tail.

“Aren’t you such a good kitty?” Thomas gushed.

The cat laid down on him and stretched, accepting more head scritches. Thomas couldn’t stop himself from booping the cat’s nose, but he immediately went back to petting. Soon enough, however, his immune system had something to say. He barely got his arm over his nose and mouth in time for him to sneeze.

The cat was entirely nonplussed and simply looked at him as if to say, “Why did you stop petting me?”

Thomas gently picked up the cat and deposited it on the ground. He stood up, gripping his head, and made his way to the bathroom to get some water and ibuprofen in his system. Might have to see if they have benadryl, I can already feel my nose getting stuffy.

////

Virgil was panicking. Thomas had been exposed to a cat, right after he had woken up, for an extended period of time, and was already having his airways close. Logically, Virgil knew that Thomas probably wasn’t going to go into anaphylactic shock, but what if he did?!

Virgil was keeping a very close eye on his own breathing. He didn’t feel like his airway was obstructed or swollen, but he did feel like he had to focus on taking deep breathes or else his lungs would start burning. He tried his breathing exercises, to no avail. Virgil was relieved when the benadryl kicked in for Thomas and his symptoms disappeared fairly quickly, but Virgil still couldn’t get enough air. He felt like he was constantly yawning or deeply sighing. It just felt like he wasn’t getting oxygen into his lungs!

He knew that it was going to be difficult to act normally around the other Sides. Patton was the center of Thomas’ emotional intelligence, Logan was ridiculously smart and observant, and Roman was very sensitive to how others were acting around him. Resigned to suffering alone in his room for the rest of the day, he flopped on his bed and scrolled through Tumblr. He had days like this; where he’d feel like his lungs weren’t working properly and that he’d have to gulp air just to feel like he wasn’t out of breath. It usually dissipated by the next morning. Virgil knew it was his anxiety, but knowing that only helped so much. He wasn’t going to have a panic attack over thinking he had methemoglobinemia or was going into anaphylactic shock, but his brain was still telling him that he was dying.

Virgil tried focusing on the various memes and shitposts that made up his Tumblr feed, but he wasn’t enjoying it at all. He was thrumming with anxious energy. When 3 PM rolled around, Virgil was exhausted and miserable. He wanted his anxiety to just fucking stop, to let him be a neurotypical person who could cure their sadness by walking outside or whatever shit, but no, his neurotransmitters decided that their role was to make his existence miserable. Was it so much to ask to just be able to breathe and have a normal day?!

Virgil threw his phone on the bed in frustration and dug the heels of his palms into his eyes. He heard excited knocking coming from his door.

“Virgil, my Chemically Imbalanced Romance! May I request thy presence for a quest?”

Virgil took a deep breath in through his nose.

“Sorry Princey, I’m not feeling too hot today. Maybe another time.”

There was silence at his door, and Virgil was relieved and sad that Roman had left.

“A new quest then! Perhaps I can interest you in a distraction?”

Virgil considered that. He wasn’t getting much better laying here in his room, but he could barely catch his breath as it was! How could he last during one of Princey’s quests?!

Virgil let out a groan. “Fine, but only if you promise there’s little to no physical activity.”

“I swear it.” Roman said way too solemnly. Virgil huffed a silent laugh to himself. Roman’s extra dial is stuck at 300%.

Virgil got himself up, made sure he had his phone and headphones, and opened the door. Roman was looking at him as though he didn’t expect Virgil to actually come out.

“Virgil, my dark knight! How may I be of service to you?”

Virgil shuffled. “I don’t know.” he mumbled. He really didn’t know how Roman could help him.

“That’s quite alright! I’m sure I can… imagine something.” Roman said with an excited smile and waggle of his brows.

“Did you just make a Patton joke?”

“Why yes I did!”

“Not very creative.”

Roman let out an offended Princey noise and Virgil snorted. Roman led the way to his room, not touching Virgil. He had learned that when Virgil’s anxiety was acting up, touch didn’t feel very good for him.

Roman opened the massive doors to his room and Virgil noticed that it was slightly darker than usual. The only light came from candles, fairy lights, and a sunset in the Imagination that was shining through the window.

“We could play Scrabble, we could watch movies, I even have a PS4 set up in here!”

Virgil bobbed his head as he looked around. He needed a distraction, so,

“Scrabble?”

Roman swept his arm to the fireplace (that has GOT to be a fire hazard) and directed Virgil to one of the armchairs. Unlike the other armchairs, it was black with silver metal accents, as opposed to the red chairs with gold and brown accents. That little detail almost made Virgil tear up.

Almost. He had a reputation to maintain dammit.

Roman grabbed two mugs of jasmine tea seemingly from out of nowhere and set one in front of Virgil, along with a plate of finger sandwiches. They played several rounds of Scrabble, with Virgil winning the first one by a narrow margin and Roman winning the second by an equally narrow margin. They got about halfway through the third game before Virgil decided to try eating some of the finger sandwiches. They were good. Virgil ate enough so he wasn’t hungry anymore but no more than that. He didn’t want another lecture from Patton about ruining his appetite. Although to be fair, this was probably healthier than Cheetos dipped in cream cheese, right?

Virgil irritatingly brushed his fringe out of his eyes for approximately the 70th time that minute and huffed in annoyance.

“Would you like the assistance of an expert hairstylist fair maiden?”

Virgil saw excitement barely being held at bay in the royal’s eyes. His skin didn’t feel so uncomfortable anymore, and he could use some help…

“Sure.”

“Wonderful! Come into my bathroom, I have everything we’ll need in there.”

Virgil threw one more finger sandwich into his mouth, chugged the rest of his tea, and followed the royal.

Roman’s bathroom was an amalgamation of every bathroom Thomas had seen in his life that made him think “Oh pretty!”. Walking past a clawfoot bathtub that was in the exact center of the bathroom for whatever reason Virgil was sat down in a chair facing a vanity. The mirror was lined in lightbulbs.

Fit for a star.

Roman tousled Virgil’s hair, staring at it in concentration. After running his hands through it a few more times, he went to his vanity.

“Your hair has enough grease in it to make hairspray not as effective, and we really don’t have a good hair type for hair gel. I was thinking of putting some dry shampoo in and adding hairspray?”

Virgil shrugged. “Whatever you think will work best.”

“Excellent! I shall begin right away.”

Virgil let his mind drift a bit as Roman fussed over his hair. Roman had personalized his room just for Virgil’s sake and put his whole heart into doing whatever it was Virgil wanted to do. All because Virgil was being a useless puddle of anxiety on his bed and decided he couldn’t breathe and avoided the others. He had even made sure Virgil was hydrated and had something to eat, and Virgil hadn’t even gone on the quest Roman wanted to go on, and-

“Done! What do you think?”

Virgil tore himself away from his thoughts and looked in the mirror. It… looked good. For only using dry shampoo and hairspray, it was damn impressive. It had some volume and stayed out of his eyes, but was still draping down enough to keep the emo vibe alive.

Roman was chewing on his lip and staring at Virgil in the mirror with wide eyes.

“Thanks Ro. I really like it. It’s really good.”

Roman’s smile lit up the entire room and Virgil swore it got a few degrees warmer.

“I’m very glad you like it Virgil! My skills are unmatched!” he declared with a flourish.

Virgil chuckled as they heard knocking on Roman’s door.

“Kiddos! Dinner!”

Virgil and Roman began to shuffle out of his room when Virgil realized something: he could breathe again.

He felt a lump in his throat beginning to form against his wishes. Roman heard Virgil stop walking and turned around. Upon seeing the expression on Virgil’s face, his brows knitted together.

“Virgil? Is something the matter?”

Virgil laughed wetly. “No Princey, I just… thank you.” he breathed out.

Roman smiled. “Of course. It is my pleasure to help you Virgil.” he paused, looking slightly hesitant. “Would you like a hug?”

Virgil nodded and walked into Roman’s waiting arms. Roman held him tightly, showing the strength hidden beneath the prince uniform, but not too tightly. He had his face buried in Virgil hair and was breathing in the scent of hairspray and dry shampoo. After a good 30-second hug, they separated. Virgil was looking down and blushing slightly and Roman was smiling, a blush also covering his cheekbones, but instead of embarrassment in his eyes there were stars.

“L-let’s go to supper.” Virgil muttered.

“Very well. Let’s.”

[remitothestars]

🍋Lemon Boi🍋

Hi I wrote a fanfiction for the first time in years because I love Bakugo ♥ 

Warning: Smoking (smoking is bad please don’t do it ♥)

This one is fluffy but there’s possible NSFW later *shrugs* 

🍋 Lemon Boi 🍋 : Chapter 1

Now anyone could see that Katsuki Bakugou wasn’t the most well liked guy at UA; but after all he came here to become a hero, not make friends. Katsuki would keep up his behavior and if people didn’t want to be around him? Fuck ‘em. He’d been around people long enough to know that no one sticks around forever. The friends he supposedly had from primary school pretty much bailed as soon as he’d made it into UA. Now Bakugou often found himself in the company of a few of his fellow students from the Hero course. A squad had somehow been formed with he himself as it’s head and it annoyed him to no end.

Denki Kaminari had a useful enough quirk; but no mind power when it came to using it. Supposedly after a large enough shock it would short circuit his brain for a while and he’d end up walking around like a mumbling moron; but in Katsuki’s opinion he always had a few loose wires. The way he disrespected him and then cried when Bakugou put him in his place was pathetic, and the way he treated women was.. Creepy.. Not as bad as Minetta, but bad enough that it irked Bakugou the wrong way. You wouldn’t catch Katsuki white knighting for them though; they were all here because their powers were the best of the best and they all had to fight their way to the top.

Every now and then their group would be joined by Hanta Sero and Kyoka Jiro. There wasn’t anything inherently wrong with these two. Sero was almost as stupid as Kaminari was smart on a good day. He came up with passable ideas for the group to do; Bakugou had even participated in a few and had a not so shit time. Jiro mainly just provided palatable music and snarky remarks. He’d even found himself talking with her from time to time about various bands and picked up a few new albums due to her. She was fine. 

Mina Ashido was too much feminine energy mixed with shitposter for Bakugou. She was exhausting and annoying to keep up with as she dashed around constantly, on top of that she’d talk him into a headache if he didn’t have an outburst and stop her, then she’d cry and everyone in the squad would get upset with him. The nerve of these people sometimes; was he just supposed to sit there and take it? No.. Not him.. Bakugou didn’t have to deal with anything he didn’t want to. She wasn’t all bad he supposed; even with her wild behavior he did catch himself almost laughing at some of her lame jokes. 

Then there was Kirishima; Eijiro Kirishima. A man who’d decided pretty much right away that he’d be Katsuki’s front runner. A sturdy enough number two he supposed, at first he’d tried to repeatedly blow the boy to smithereens for annoying him, but no matter how many punches he pulled the boy made of stone had attached himself to Bakugou… and He wasn’t sure how to feel around that. He supposed out of their other classmates he was fairly tolerable. His determination was admirable, and the way he refused to go down in a fight was manly enough, but some of his actions made Bakugou uncomfortable.

The way he was just so offhandedly calm with Bakugou’s reactions were astounding. He would scream and Kirishima would tell him to chill out, Katsuki would blow up on someone and Kiri would white knight for them, He’d complain and the redhead would be right there to call him on his shit. He hated it, it infuriated him to no end, but... In the end… he felt like he needed it. Kirishima helped level him out; not that Bakugou would ever tell him that. Hell no!

The two of them always seemed to be by the other’s side. They were on the same team in the chariot race because Kirishima said he’d be a strong front horse and Bakugou had believed him, and he’d been right. They often spared together because Kirishima could take quite a few blows from Bakugou before going down; he’d even managed to get a few good hits in as well. Kirishima had been by Bakugou’s side throughout the entirety of their training, at camp, and during the provisional licensing exam. 

Most importantly; it had been Kirishima’s hand he’d grabbed in the air when he’d escaped from the League of Villains during the Kamino Ward incident. He’d been there with the other’s. He’d been the one who’d called out. Katsuki had thought he was an idiot at the time; and even though he’d never told him thank you verbally, he’d tried to show his appreciation. He hadn’t been as harsh on him after that. He’d tried not to lash out on the squad as much and that should count for something. 

When they’d moved into the dorms it was originally Sero who had been assigned the corner dorm on their floor next to Kirishima’s room; but that hadn’t boded well with Katsuki. Sero had gone to carry his things into the room and Bakugou grabbed the collar of his shirt and threw him back across the floor. When Sero had protested him Bakugou had simply challenged him to a fight for the dorm and that had been the end. He’d set his things up and he and Kirishima had been in neighboring rooms since. 

When their first year had ended they were told that they could once more live in their own homes but they couldn’t leave the city. Understandable enough given the year that they’d had but still irritating none the less. Although being in his own bed would be nice; Katsuki had to admit that being away from the Hag at home was even better. He’d be staying in the dorms during the week while he did his work study at the Endeavor agency and that he’d continue to return home on the weekends as a retreat. When Kirishima had chosen to do the same he’d thought nothing of it. The others dropped in from time to time to hang out or pick up things they’d forgotten in their dorms but for the most part it was just the two of them.

“Can I call you Katsuki?” The redhead asked while Bakugou made dinner. 

“Hell No.” He’d fired back without a second thought. 

“Aww, why not man? I thought we were friends!” He cried out and elbowed him.

“You shouldn’t test someone with a knife in their hand Kirishima; It’s disrespectful.” 

“Okay Bakugou, so sorry.” He replied with a hint of exaggeration as he took down some plates from the cupboard. “I’ll set the table.”

“Fine.” Bakugo said as he returned to his chopping. He was preparing curry, he didn’t know if Kirishima actually liked it as Bakugou tended to go heavy with his spices, but if he couldn’t hang he could starve. Moving from the cutting board to the stove he slid the ingredients into the pan and began cultivating everything together. When a pair of hands slid up over the back of his shoulders he felt a shock tingle up his spine. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing!?” He yelled in annoyance,his face turning to a snarl.

“Oh Bakugou you look like such a little housewife when you cook!” Kirishima cooed and then ruffled the blondes hair as he pushed back off him while cackling.

“Shut up shitty hair! Don’t touch me I’ll burn the damn food!” He screamed. 

“Calm down man, no harm done, food smells great!” He came down from his laugh to speak in his normal tone. “Gotta have some fun since we live at school.” 

“No one asked you to stay.” Bakugo retorted. 

“Aww, don’t be like that! You’d be lonely here without me!” He returned to the cupboard for some glasses to set the table.

“Check your brain, I don’t get lonely Shitty Hair.” Katsuki corrected. 

“Eijiro.” He leaned on the counter and looked over to the blonde. 

Bakugou raised a brow and looked at the other boy. God it’s like he was expecting something from him but he didn’t know what. “Bless you?” he excused him.

“I DIDN’T SNEEZE BAKUGOU THAT’S MY NAME!” The redhead burst into his space.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT IF YOU JUST SAY IT WITH NO FUCKING CONTEXT!” He burst right back.

“WE’VE BEEN FRIENDS FOR ALMOST A YEAR NOW BAKUGOU!” Kirishima lectured.

“WE’RE NOT FRIENDS!” Katsuki yelled ignoring the other’s point.

“OH REEEAALLLY? THEN WHAT ARE WE?!”

“Classmates.” Bakugo shook his head with a squint; was the redhead really asking such a stupid question.

Kirishima was spiraling. “God Damn you're a dense man.” Is all he said before returning to the table to finish setting it and taking his seat. 

“Oi! What? Am I wrong?” Katsuki turned to face him one hand still on the handle of the pan. “Answer me!” He demanded. 

“No Bakugou, never.” Kirishima looked at him and rolled his eyes. The two of them stared at each other for a moment. “It’s burning Bakugou.” Kirishima finally pointed out.

Katsuki’s nose twitched and he whipped back around to what he was cooking. “Damn it!” He yelled and shook the pan to loosen the overcooked parts as he grabbed his spatula. After a moment he successfully salvaged the pan and set his spatula down to grab the spice jar. 

“C..could we not use that one tonight?” He heard Eijiro ask quietly from the table behind him. He turned to him but only part way this time. “What Why? I always cook with this?” 

“That’s exactly why Bakugou, I’d like to taste my food.” He grinned. “Let’s just use cumin.” 

Inhaling deeply through his nostrils he relinquished the spice jar back onto the shelf and moved his hand over to grab the cumin. “Weak.” 

“Don’t be like that man, I eat your dragon food all the time!” Kirishima protested. 

“If you don’t like it starve!” Katsuki replied. 

The two sat down for their meal. Kirishima was more than happy as he ate the curry without his mouth bleeding and even Bakugou had to admit it was a nice change. The dinner went on as normal Kirishima droning on and Katsuki only half paying attention. “Why make it so spicy?” Bakugou’s ears twitched at the question.

 “The fuck you mean?” the blonde replied.

“The food, why make it so spicy? It’s really good, but sometimes it’s so hot I can’t taste it.” The redhead said as he continued eating.

“It’s good for your immune system.” Katsuki said with irritation. “It also makes me sweat, which helps my quirk.” He added as he took a bite.

“Yea but if you’re eating it at night then wouldn’t you stop sweating by morning?” Kiri inquired.

“That’s why everything I eat is spicy dumbass, I’m ready for anything.” He deadpanned. 

“Right.” Kirishima chuckled. “So the cumin is bad?”

“The cumin is fine.”

“Good.”

The boys finished their meal and Bakugou gathered the dishes into the sink.

“I can wash those!” Kirishima came over and leaned into the boys space.

“Do I look like I need your charity?!” Bakugou reprimanded him. 

“Hey man calm down, it’s not charity, you made dinner so I’ll wash the dishes. It’s an even trade amongst men!” He put his hands on his hips with a chivalrous smile.

“Whatever.” Bakugou dropped the dish he was holding and rung his hands out on the dishrag. He walked out of the kitchenette and into the common area, ignoring when the ginger called out asking where he was going. Dinner was over idiot; what was he supposed to do? Stand there, watch you look pretty? Pathetic. Yet he heard footsteps following after him and turned when the other boys hand fell on his shoulder. “What do you want?!” He asked in exasperation.

“Where are you going buddy? We should hang out and play some games tonight.” Kirishima said with a toothy grin. 

“I’m going to bed. It’s late.” 

“It’s eight thirty Bakugou…”

“Shut up!” He replied and continued his course.

“Man do you even wanna be my friend?” 

Katsuki paused, that voice was sad, he turned back to the redhead. Kirishima stood there, hair down with a headband to keep it out of his face. He was just staring at Bakugou and it unsettled him. 

“I’m just trying to be nice man, I just don’t get you sometimes.” He continued. 

Still Bakugou didn’t respond; he didn’t know how. What could he say? ‘Of course i wanna be friends Eijiro; call me Katsuki, let’s go watch movies and talk about our feelings.’ No. No way. Bakugou turned away and finished his departure to his room. A little to his surprise Kirishima hadn’t said anything else after that. 

Katsuki stood on the other side of the wood door for a moment thinking about the situation. Was Eijiro hurt by his actions? He squinted, no of course not, he was stronger than that. He hadn’t even noticed his fist was clenched so tightly until it burst open from a frustrated little pop. How annoying. He went over the chair in front of his desk and pulled it over to his weights. He’d do some reps and then rest. 

However when he got to bed there wasn’t much sleep to be had. “I just don’t get you sometimes.” Katsuki sighed and rubbed his mug. What does that mean? Kirishima always seemed to get him. Had his actions really been so different from before? Or had he actually done something that abrupt… or had his actions always gotten under Red’s skin… and if they had why not just tell him?! He called him out any other time he was rough with people. His brain was so tired from trying to figure it out that now he was actually ready to sleep. He pulled his tank top off and threw it aside then fell into a restless sleep. 

In it he dreamt of Kirishima. The boys sat playing video games in his dorm. He wasn’t able to hear what they were saying but Eijiro was pretty happy about whatever it was. The dream was nice; watching the two of them just relax together, but then there was a shift. The dream lost its color and when he looked back at Kirishima the boy had lost his smile. His mouth hung slightly open as he looked at him and.. was he crying?

Bakugou’s eyes opened with a pounding in his chest. Where was he? He laid perfectly still as he gathered the information he needed. Above him he saw a wall and a ceiling, not the ones belonging in his childhood bedroom at home, but the ones of his dorm room at school. This is fine. He washed away the panic he’d felt; knowing he was somewhere safe. 

He pushed himself up to sit on the side of his bed and rubbed his face with both hands, pushing them up through his static hair. Looking over at the alarm clock on his desk he read the time, it was almost three in the morning. He groaned knowing he had his work study tomorrow. He’d just have to be tired for it. He stood; sliding on a pair of red men’s slippers and made his way to his desk. Tonight had been too stressful for his taste and even though he didn’t like it, he had a temporary solution. 

Pulling the small brown box from the drawer he retrieved the pack of cigarettes he’d stolen from his hag of a mother and a lighter he’d found while walking across campus, red with a black x taped on it. He made his way to his balcony and quietly slid past the sliding door. He leaned on the railing and lit up, stifling a cough from the first drag, and looked out over the campus. It was a short lived moment though as the sound of a sliding door pulled him out of his daze. 

“Bakugou? Are you.. smoking?” Kirishima stepped out onto his balcony with a yawn. 

He couldn’t deny it, he was fucking standing there with a cig in one hand and the lighter in the other. 

“I didn’t know you smoked.” Is all he said as he mimicked Bakugou’s lean on his own balcony.

“I try not to.” Katsuki replied and brought the cigarette back to his mouth. 

“Something stressing you out?” Kirishima asked.

Everything is stressing me out. Bakugo thought but only grunted “Mm” in response. 

“Don’t tell me it was me being over dramatic earlier.” Red said as he leaned over and snagged the cigarette, bringing it over to his own lips and taking a drag. 

Bakugo looked at him with a little confusion as his face heated up. “N..no! It’s not that!” But it was, he’d dreamt of upsetting Kirishima and it had bothered him enough to smoke on his high school balcony at three in the morning. 

“Mm, okay.” Eijiro bought the denial. If anything Bakugou wasn’t sneaky, but he also didn’t wanna start a screaming match in the middle of the night. He inhaled the smoke and coughed a little when he let it out. “Damn Katsuki, shits harsh, where’d you get these.” He croaked out with another cough and offered it back. 

“Oh please, like you know what’s harsh.” The blonde said taking it back from the other boy. When Kirishima just gave him an expectant look he gave in. “I nabbed em off the hag a couple weeks ago.” He finally said, “And I told you not to call me that, shits disrespectful.”

“And stealing from your mother isn’t?” Kirishima laughed and rocked back on his heels, hands balancing him on the bar of the balcony. 

“Shut it.” Bakugou replied but couldn’t help the grin from such a clever remark. He brought the stick back to his mouth for another pull.

“Eww now it’s like we’re kissing.” He cackled but was cut off by the thwap of the cigarette carton hitting his chest as he scrambled to catch it.

“Then get your own!” Bakugou yelled as quietly as possible. Irritated and embarrassed by the other boys jest. He looked back over the city as the smoke rolled away from him. 

Kirishima laughed and fiddled with the lid of the package before deciding to hand it back over. “I’m good Bakugou thank you.”

He peered over at the other out of the corner of his slitted eyes. Holding out his left hand he retrieved the pack and shoved it back into his sweatpants pocket. 

“You can talk to me ya know.” Eijiro stood up on the edge of the balcony and leaned over towards the blonde. “I know you’re not one much for words but if you need to get something off your che-” 

“I know!” He cut him off harshly and blew out some smoke. “I know.. Eijiro.” He said a little quieter as he extinguished the cigarette on the outside on the railing. He turned to look at the other boy and rolled his eyes at Kirishima’s expression. The boy's eyes were big and he was making a proud pouty face. 

“Katsuki Bro!” Kirishima called out only to receive a hand to his face as he was pushed back onto his own balcony.

“I’m going to bed!” Katsuki yelled as he walked back into his room and closed the sliding door.

“Yea! Me too!” Kirishima said with a big grin that caught the light and waved at Bakugou through the glass window before the blonde pulled his drape shut. “Goodnight Katsuki!” He yelled so that he would be sure to hear him through the glass. 

[a-deadly-serenade]

The Shield and the Sword: Chapter 3: Blue Sheets & Family Mystique [Alucard/Reader]

You’re a witch that is skilled in herbology, one that has been persecuted by the church for practically your entire life. In spite of this, moving throughout different towns has allowed you to pick up some chatter about a woman in a village called Lupu. She is supposed to be a wonder when it comes to medicine, and this immediately perks up your interest. So after plucking up some courage, you’ve made it to her door… hoping that she takes you as her apprentice.

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16724856

~ Click here for the masterlist.

tag list: @pastelteabubbles, @heartwards, @top-notch-shitposting, @2-many-fandoms-2-count, @theotakufairy, @illiniana

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“Here we are!”

Lisa pushed open the door to your bedroom, and your heart swelled at the sight.

It was almost as big as the family room of your childhood home, and it was covered in celeste blue wallpaper that had a pattern of tiny silver lily’s etched into it. Two large windows stood on either side of a beautiful antique desk, and a framed painting of a quaint countryside hung above.

A large ornate bed sat against the wall, and its dark wooden bed posts reached nearly to the ceiling, even the headboard took your breath away.

An intricate carving of a fairy brought a smile to your face. Her head rested against her forearms, eyes downcast and serene as she looked at the flowers and vines that spiraled and curled around her. You recognized them as plants that helped with sleeping, such as chamomile, english ivy, gardenia, and jasmine.

You reached out to touch the bed and were delighted to find a thick, blue cotton comforter with white satin sheets underneath. A frayed white bed skirt surrounded the entire frame, which made it look almost as if you were sleeping on a cloudy blue sky.

A thin, almost translucent veil fell from the tops of the bedposts at the end of the bed, and you guessed that the sheen would be able to obscure your sleeping form, if you chose to keep it closed.

There was a small, pitch colored nightstand to the right, and you gaped at the sight of the nearby armoire. It towered over you, and you admired the craftsmanship, the impressive curves and edges of the wood being quite the sight to behold.

It was absolutely lovely, and the thought passed through your mind that you were undeserving of such a lavish space. But you knew that Lisa, and now Vlad, would fight tooth and nail till you accepted it, so you swallowed your doubt.

“Well? What do you think?”

The discovery of a door hindered you from answering Lisa’s question, and when you pushed it open, you found that you had your own personal bathroom as well, and it was just as extravagant as the bedroom.

You turned back to Lisa, and wiped away a tear that had managed to escape (much to your chagrin). “This…. this is all so much Lisa, I can’t thank you enough.” your voice is slightly hoarse, and you melt under her touch as she walks over to give you a hug.

“Like I said, you are a part of my family now,” she stroked your hair and bopped the tip of your nose with her finger. “And my family deserves the best.”

She hummed softly to herself before she took a firm grip of your hand. “It’s getting late, darling. Why don’t you get some rest, and we can begin our studies in the morning?”

With all of the excitement that had happened in one day, it was only then that you realized how utterly exhausted you were. You rubbed your eyes with the back of your hands, and heard Lisa chuckle.

“See? Mother’s intuition,” she joked, and gave your hand one final reassuring squeeze before she started to trek towards your bedroom door.

She said one last goodnight, before you heard the door shut with a quiet click.

You let out a huff, and dug through the contents of your satchel, all the while mumbling of how much of a mess it was.

“Aha!”

Your elated cry rang out through the quiet room as you found what you had been looking for: a lavender scented candle, homemade, of course. You shrugged off your stuffy shawl and went to throw it on the floor, before you decided to not be a complete slob, and instead placed it inside the wardrobe.

“Huh… right,” you muttered, when greeted by a completely empty armoire. “I don’t actually have that many clothes….” an irritated sound rumbled in the back of your throat, but you settled to deal with that issue in the morning.

You crawled into bed, and your assumption from earlier had been right. It did feel like laying on clouds. With a snap of your fingers the candle was lit, and the waves of fresh lavender quickly lulled you to sleep.

Bright white light unexpectedly streaming into your room is what finally managed to rouse you from your deep slumber.

You let out a loud groan, and made quick haste to duck under the blankets to protect your sensitive eyes from the harsh morning glow of the sun.

“Rise and shine!”

Your head peeks out from under the sheets to find Lisa standing at the foot of your bed, hands on her hips.

She had a determined look in her eyes, and clapped her hands together. “Come on! It’s time to get up!”

You groggily sat up, slightly dazed from being woken up so abruptly. “What time is it?”

“The sun has been up for almost two hours now. It’s time for you to eat something so that we can get started on the day.”

Right. You were to begin studying today.

Lisa cleared her throat and brought your attention back to her, for she had moved to stand in the doorway. “Freshen up if you’d like, but you better be quick about it. I don’t want your breakfast getting cold.”

With that, she disappeared down the hallway and you fumbled out of bed to get ready as fast as possible.

As you stumbled into the bathroom, you were shocked to find anything and everything that you could ever need from a hairbrush to soap to fresh towels. When did those get there?

No matter. You splashed some water on your face and brushed through the tangles in your hair, trying your best to look at least presentable. A grimace formed on your lips when it dawned on you that none of the clothes you had brought were very clean, nor did they seem to fit the posh fashion everyone inside Castlevania sported.

You nervously nibbled on your thumbnail while you began to pace around the room. It wasn’t the end of the world if you asked Lisa to borrow some of her clothes. You doubted that she would be bothered by it… it would just be temporary, until you found the time to make them yourself.

Your footsteps came to a halt in front of your armoire, and you thought it best to take out your dirty clothes that you had shoved in there so that they could at least be washed.

You count yourself lucky that you were currently the only one in the room the moment you opened those doors, for the expression you made would certainly be one that any sensible person would never let you forget.

It was filled with vestments, and not just the extravagant dresses you assumed families of this stature would wear. You spotted an array of lovely tops and pants, and you thanked the stars that was the most common outfit inside. When you reached out to touch them, you assumed they were made of cotton, and discovered a few dresses amongst it all, alongside scarves, shawls, gloves, and several pairs of unworn shoes.

You were absolutely baffled . Where had all of this come from? You could only assume it had been Lisa, but it was impossible for you to fathom that she just happened to have such an assortment of unused garments.

Still in mild shock, you grabbed a pair of brown pants and a yellow long-sleeved shirt and gave them a curious sniff. They smelled of daisies and crisp, fresh water, with just the hint of grass. You remained in utter disbelief as you put it on, mind abuzz with so many questions that you hoped Lisa would answer over breakfast.

You shut your bedroom door with a gentle tug, and as you began to walk down the long hallway, you silently hoped that you’d be able to rely on your memory to make it back to the front entrance of the castle.

However, you found yourself getting distracted by the many paintings that hung on the walls. They were all encased in ornate gold frames, and a variety of motifs graced the canvases. Some were small portraits, some were of landscapes found around Romania, and others were of towering, detailed figures that you could only guess were relatives of the family.

One in particular made you stop in your tracks.

It was easy to recognize Vlad in the middle, but… you could tell that he looked slightly different, almost a little younger. You hadn’t the faintest clue who the women standing beside him were, although the woman to the right’s golden eyes caught your attention, and it was then that you realized she had been in the other painting you spotted on the way to the library yesterday evening.

Even though you weren’t one to make assumptions, you could only guess that she had to be related to Vlad somehow, seeing as she had long black hair, and golden eyes like Adrian. The dress she wore for the portrait was beautiful, a dark red that clung exquisitely to her form, and her long nails, painted a startling silver color, shimmered like knives in the morning light.

The other woman was much older, her hair the color of starlight and eyes as rich as the beryl’s adorned around her neck and fingers. A white sheer shawl was wrapped around her shoulders that accentuated the slim golden dress she wore, its long sleeves draping across the side of the chair that Vlad sat upon.

You noted, with some amusement, that despite her intimidating expression, golden wreaths dusted with sapphires danced amongst the strands of her long hair, adding just the right amount of whimsy to her depiction.

“I was beginning to wonder if you had gotten lost.”

A gasp trapped itself in your throat as the unexpected greeting caught you off guard, the palm of your hand pressed against your chest in an attempt to steady the erratic beating of your heart.

You felt your cheeks heat up as Adrian laughed, obviously finding your embarrassment entertaining. “I’m curious as to what you find so amusing.”

He wore a smirk on his lips and said nothing, his arms folded across his chest while he gazed up at the portrait. “They are quite the pair, are they not?”

“Was it presumptuous of me to assume that they’re all related?” His eyes glittered, a look of surprised satisfaction shining in the mirthy gold. “You’re quite astute. The woman with the black hair is my aunt, Stefana. She’s a rather spirited individual, but she’s always treated us kindly.”

“She’s very beautiful.” “Don’t tell her that,” Adrian chuckled. “She might snatch you up if you do.”

“Keen for compliments?”

“Let’s just say she has a soft spot for the female form.”

You smiled, happy that Adrian felt comfortable enough around you to talk about his family life. “And who’s on the left?”

“Father tells me that she is his cousin, so I believe she would be my first cousin once removed. It’s kind of a convoluted mess when I really think about it.”

“I know how that feels,” you replied. “Back home, my mother or grandmother would say that someone was related to us in a way, even though I’m positive they weren’t.”

“Why would they do that?”

“I suppose it was just so I could feel closer to them, give me a reason not to shy away from those I was unfamiliar with in my coven. It worked, we all held each other in our hearts… as though we were just a large family…” your voice trailed off as melancholy drew its wings around you, saddened by the connection you had just made.

A jolt travelled through your body as Adrian placed a hand on your shoulder, almost as if you had been shocked. The action was so sudden, and so unexpected, that you almost drew away from him, but you managed to stop yourself.

“I apologize if this discussion upset you in any way. You looked as though you desired answers while you gazed upon this painting, so, I thought–”

“No! It’s alright!” you blurted out. “I was interested! I just… I just got a little caught up in the past is all, don’t worry about it.” you gave the hand on your shoulder a reassuring squeeze, bemused at his almost flustered reaction.

“Yes… well, like I was saying,” he drew his hand back, opting to put the both of them behind him as he resumed his explanation. “She is my first cousin once removed. Her name is Dumitra, and she is… how can I put this delicately?”

“An absolute horror?”

The both of you whipped around to find Lisa at the end of the hallway, her hair up in a high bun and sporting a white apron dotted with stains.

“Honestly, I leave you alone for ten minutes, expecting you to make your way down to eat some breakfast, and where do I find you? Musing over some paintings.” she gave an exasperated sigh, before a smile slowly found its way back onto her visage. “Well, I suppose it’s not a total loss,” she joined the two of you under the towering stares of the three vampires. “This is a beautiful painting. Look how handsome my husband looks.”

Her comment caused her son to let out an annoyed groan, to which she just laughed at in response.

“You interrupt me to gush over father?”

“Why shouldn’t I? He looks dashing in this portrait.”

You could not help the giggles that managed to escape you at the charming display between Adrian and Lisa. It was innocuous moments like this that you had missed since living on your own.

“Stefana looks wonderful here too. It’s been a mo’ since she’s come ‘round to visit.”

“You know how busy she is, having to look after Caliacra. Not to mention, father tells me that she’s found a new beau.”

“Really?” Lisa gave a delighted little hum. “It’s about time. I thought that other woman she’d been with was simply dreadful.”

“As dreadful as Dumitra?”

“Oh no,” she scoffed. “It’s impossible for anyone to be as unbearable as her.”

“Lisa,” you interjected. “Why do you hate Dumitra so much?”

She froze for a moment, as if collecting her thoughts, before she tried to wave off the question. “Oh, darling, I do not wish to bore you with familial semantics.”

“That’s unfair, mother.” Adrian said.

“How so?”

“You said that she’d be a part of the family now, isn’t that right?” Adrian’s fangs gleamed in the sunlight as his voice lilted with a teasing tone.

“I… yes, I suppose you’re correct–” “So shouldn’t she know why Dumitra is so insufferable?”

“Since you’re so eager to talk to her, maybe you should explain?” Lisa challenged back, her own smirk finding refuge on her face when she saw Adrian’s cheeks tinge a slight pink.

He quickly regained composure however, and turned his attention back to you. “Dumitra is… an ancient vampire. I remember asking her when I was much younger how old she really was, and father had to intervene before she gave me a right good slap.”

“Yes, I remember that,” Lisa muttered to herself, mouth contorted into a grimace.

“Did you get an answer?” you joked, and Adrian gave you a playful look in return.

“My father has lead me to believe that she’s even older than he is, which I find exceptionally terrifying.”

“I was told that Dracula was where all vampires came from?” you question. “At least, that’s what I’ve read in some books.”

Lisa shook her head. “No, my husband is simply a vampire–albeit a very well lived and powerful one.”

“Dumitra could have beaten my father during her glory days,” Adrian mused, and moved his hand to point at her. “They are not visible here, but she has an array of scars on her back that she displays proudly. She totes them as a trophy of surviving one of the first vampire hunters.”

“Vampire hunters? I never knew such a thing existed.”

Adrian nodded. “Oh yes. There’s a particular clan that tends to give our kind some trouble. Even Stefana has scars on her arms from holy water burns. Although, I believe they’ve been covered up by some lovely henna work done by one of father’s generals. What was her name?”

Lisa bit her lip in contemplation before her face lit up. “Raman! Oh she is such a sweetheart. I saw her a few weeks ago!”

“You don’t say? Nevertheless, being such an… old fashioned woman, Dumitra has had a problem with not only me, but my mother as well.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, wondering how anyone could possibly dislike Lisa in any sort of capacity. “Why is that?”

“Well,” Lisa replied, before she shrugged her shoulders. “She is not exactly a fan of the fact that I am human.”

“Is that bad?”

“Certain vampires,” Adrian interjected. “No, let me amend that: most vampires only see humans as fodder, food for the supposed superior race to feast on.”

Your stomach turned at the thought, but it made you remember how much some of your coven hated vampires. A specific memory came to the forefront of your mind, of some younger girls expressing their outright fear towards them. They had shown you the amulets and charm bags that they had created for the sole purpose of repelling these creatures of the night, and that their mothers had even gone so far to inscribe magical runes onto the walls of their home.

“You appear as though you’ve had experience with these types of vampires.” Lisa said, which snapped you out of your train of thought.

You shook your head no. “Fortunately I have not, but I do recall several younger witches being deathly afraid of them. I am always one to judge something myself, especially when it comes to supernatural beings; they must be treated with respect. But I cannot deny being especially careful when it came to walking through the nearby woods on my own.”

Adrian let out a delighted little hum as you said this. “Your intuition is quite remarkable, mother. I cannot think of a more suited person to work with you.”

The compliment caused you to blush, and your eyes darted back to the painting to refrain from looking at the both of them.

“Look how flustered you made her, Adrian!” Lisa jokingly chastised, before she wrapped her hand around yours and gave it a gentle tug.

As you looked up at her with wide eyes, she gave you a delighted smile before she leaned down to whisper, “He’s right you know.”

“Lisa,” you whined, and she burst into laughter.

“Alright, alright, I’ll spare you from any further embarrassment,” she began leading the way down the hallway, both you and Adrian following her long strides.

It was only slightly humiliating that the distance between your bedroom and the kitchen was not only in the opposite direction that you had initially walked, but that it was insurmountably closer than you had originally anticipated.

The kitchen was equally as beautiful and wondrous as the rest of the house, with large windows that allowed for the sunlight to warm even the most northern brick that dotted along the floor. A large wooden table with plenty of luxurious plush chairs around its perimeter stood in the middle of the room and it was covered in a decadent array of food, from eggs to sausages, to bread and the finest local cheeses, to a very delicate tea set steaming with a fresh batch of what smelled like lavender tea.

Even the tea cups were magical, the most delicate of porcelain that had hand painted watercolor roses as their motif. A thin line of gold graced the rim, and made up the handle, a tiny plate with tiny pink roses lining the outside being its accompanying piece.

You were awestruck, your eyes as wide as the saucers in front of you. This looked like a feast fit for kings, and it was merely breakfast!

Lisa pushed you down into one of the chairs before you could begin berating her with thanks and telling her that she, “shouldn’t have done all this for you!”

The meal was as delicious as it looked, but something that surprised you more than the bountiful breakfast in your plate, was that Vlad was enjoying food with them as well, albeit, a much smaller amount than his wife and son.

You were a bit puzzled to say the least, as you had always heard that Dracula could not bare to be the sunlight, and you thought it was common knowledge that vampires get sick eating regular human food.

Vlad appeared to read your thoughts, a devilish smirk on his face as he took a sip of his golden goblet. “You seem to have several questions buzzing around in that head of yours, little one.”

You flushed, and averted your gaze, as you shoved a piece of bread into your mouth.

“There’s no need to be so bashful. I enjoy a curious mind.”

You looked over at Lisa for reassurance, and she gave you a kind smile and a nod of her head. Swallowing the bread you nearly choked down your throat, you took your attention instead to the bright morning sun that grazed his sharp features.

“I read that vampires cannot stand being in the sunlight?”

He hummed to himself. “Ah yes, a particularly popular rumor… I think Helsing had something to do with that,” he mused, but turned back to you after his moment to himself. “I can say that spending too much time in the sun could be harmful, but, sitting here, just barely out of its direct rays will not harm me.”

“I see,” you mumbled, and then focused on Adrian. “So, since you’re a dhampir, you can go in direct sunlight thanks to your mother, yes?”

“Exactly.” Vlad answered. “I like this one. She’s keen to pick up things.”

“I told you that she was a worthy apprentice!” Lisa sang as she gathered up the empty plates and cups. She placed them the large sink, using a large pump to get water to start running across them.

You walked over to her, offering your assistance, which Lisa greatly accepted. She decided to clean all of the dishes, and then hand them to you to dry.

As she held out a dripping plate for you, she gave you a nudge and a playful smile. “Once this is all cleaned up,” her eyes twinkled with excitement. “It’s about time that we head to the library and start studying, don’t you think?”

author’s note: hello everyone!! i’m BACK. i did not plan on having such a long break between chapters, but spring semester kicked my ass. but guess what? i Graduated Y'ALL. so guess who has time to work on a fic? this bitch. anyways, tysm to all of the new followers this has garnered in the past couple months. it really helps me stay encouraged to work on this, knowing that people like it so much!! i hope this chapter was worth the wait <3