#i had to squint for a long time at my old chart

[silverskye13]

Kandlehund!

A long time ago [8 years?? wow] I used to make adoptables on DeviantArt, and I made a species of critters called Kandlehunds? They were basically small-dog-sized fire spirits that ate ash.

Anyway, I’ve gotten a lot better at drawing since then. Dunno if people still buy adoptables/designs, but if anyone wants this little guy... DM me I guess?

The adoptable from 8 years ago he’s vaguely inspired by under the cut, in case ya’ll wanna see some really old heckin’ artwork.

[xxbottlecapx]

I saw a video about a girl having focal seizures and this plot bunny came up 

Steve was an idiot. 

It was one of the only things that the party collectively agreed on. They loved him, don’t get them wrong, and they would never want him to leave them, or to even know that they thought it, but that was the way things were. He hadn’t done too well in school, unlike everyone else. Which was how the party would explain away all the weird things about him that they ascertained were simply him being an idiot. Zoning off constantly, confusion, taking increasingly long allotments of time to answer simple questions, mixing his words up. It was just Steve being Steve. A little dumb, slow on the uptake, but kind. 

That is, until Eddie.

°•. ✿ .•°

“Your class is essentially your profession, and it'll outline the kind of role you’ll have within the party as a result.” Dustin said from the floor. He had a DND manual laying flat on the carpet. Steve was sitting criss cross beside him, staring almost too intently at the colorful pages, squinting. 

“And your race will determine how your character looks, as well as giving you exclusive skills and features.” 

The entire party was over for a sleepover. Robin, Argyle, and Jonathan were out by the pool smoking (if they had given Max some weed to help with joint pain, no one had to know)  Nancy was teaching Eleven how to braid hair. Steve had given her one of his mothers wigs as a text subject. They  have taken over half the livingroom floor. 

Lucas was recovering from a hangover (which Steve was going to give him so much shit for once he had drank all his water and took some painkillers) and Will was stacking old slices of bread on Lucas’s face, the tower was 13 stacks long so far. Mike was sitting next to Will, watching him like a hawk. Erica was keeping a running tally of how many breads Will could stack before they fell. She was practicing rock balancing on lucas’s shin with the designer rocks from next door (don’t ask Steve why they were called designer rocks, he hadn’t asked, he just knows that’s what they’re called because once about a year ago he had cut across their rock-filled lawn and had gotten a mouthful for stepping on their designer rocks. Sue him. He helped Erica steal them a few hours ago.) she had 14 stacked, which was extremely impressive to everyone who saw it. 

And Steve was trying to learn how to play DND. Dustin didn’t know that Steve actually had purchased his own dnd manual a few months back, but he had such a hard time reading (the letters moved!) that he had finally agreed to let Dustin teach him. Eddie was on the couch watching. He had been doing that a lot lately, they all had noticed. Watching Steve. The party had a betting pool on when Eddie was going to ask Steve out, since Eddie seemed to be the only one in the party who didn’t know Steve liked men.  

“These features can include ability score increases, age and life expectancy changes, size differences, increased speeds, and unique languages.” Dustin moved his hands to show Steve a chart. 

Steve swallowed hard once, twice, his left hand clenched and unclenched a few times. He blinked about seven times before speaking (Erica liked counting, she knew the exact average amount of times everyone in the party blinked in an hour. Steve had much more then the rest of them.) 

“… What?” 

“Oh my God, Steve. It’s not that hard. What do you not get?” Dustin rolled his eyes. He was starting to think this was a useless endeavor. Eddie quickly got up and grabbed a bottle from the table. 

Steve squinted at him again, looked down to the paper, eyebrows drawn down. 

“I- uh, en-“ Steve stumbled over his words. This could go on for minutes, in Dustin’s experience. 

“That’s enough for now,” Eddie interrupted, setting the water into Steve’s lap. He quickly grabs at it with his right hand, gripping it hard enough that it almost broke.  

“This would be so much easier if you just paid attention.” Dustin said, exasperated. 

It took Steve a few seconds to roll his eyes. “Yeah, whatever.” He said eventually, sloppily knocking Dustin’s hat off his head.  That sets Dustin off on a long rant about the history of hats and why they should be respected.

From above, Eddie looked like he was in pain. Dustin chose not to question why. 

°•. ✿ .•°

Steve had made a pretty large chicken casserole for dinner, along with a cheesy salad looking thing and Bomboloni for desert. 

“What soda do you want, Steve?” Robin asked, bending down to open the bottom of the fridge. It was absolutely humongous, with thirty different sections and labels on said sections. They all assumed that Steve’s parents had done that. He didn’t correct them. He just wanted them to always be able to find exactly what they were looking for if they were hungry. 

Steve opened his mouth, then closed it again. Eddie turned quickly from his place to Steve’s left. 

“Ash…” Steve closed his mouth again. “Ad-“ 

Dustin snorted so hard that he started choking. Will silently clapped his back. Robin grinned from her place near the fridge, shaking her head. He did this frequently. 

After about a minute of confused mumbling, Steve finally gets his words across. 

“A Slice Strawberry Soda.” 

Robin gently poked fun at him as she handed it to him. The rest of the party proceeded to start in their little let’s joke about Steve debacle, which Steve always took like a champ. 

And then of course, Eddie had to be the one to set them straight. 

“Steve,” Eddie said gently. “Do you know you’ve been having seizures?”  

°•. ✿ .•°

It was called a Focal seizure. Most common with those who have had frequent head injuries. Symptoms were: motor spasms (like aggressive swallowing, blinking, and hand clenching) Staring blankly into space, confusion, sight issues, and speech problems. 

They didn’t look like the seizures you were used to seeing. A lot of the time, people wouldn’t even know that they were having them. You can be fully conscious when they happen, mistake them for a panic attack or a simple migraine. 

Eddie only caught it because his mother had had them before she died.

At first, the party thinks he’s being delusional. But then Dustin decides the party is going to skip school and check the library. 

They all come to the collective decision that Steve definitely was having focal seizures. Steve wasn't an idiot. He was having seizures the entire time.

They don’t apologize for making fun of him, but they do feel bad about it. They do stop making fun of him for being stupid, though. At least until he tells them they’re allowed to smile at him when he’s having one. Steve claims it makes him feel weird when they all suddenly start acting like he’s going to die. 

“Ha- wait, tsh-“ Steve paused, his hand spasming around the dice he had been about to throw. 

It took them a while, but teaching Steve DND was much easier when they just spent more time letting him figure it out without pressuring him. This was his first session. It was proving to be a success, since Eddie (a very brutal DM) had such a soft spot for Steve that he was letting a lot more things slide when he was there. 

“Youre having a seizure, Steve.” Eddie told him, bringing his hands down to his notes. Will had just rolled a nat-20 and saved half the party from getting eaten by a dragon. 

“Ween-“ Steve squinted his eyes. 

“A seizure, Steve. Can you say seizure?” Eddie took the sharp dice out of Steve’s hand so he wouldn’t hurt himself (they were made by Argyle, who didn’t how to properly use a sander. Erica, Lucas, and Mike all already had splinters from holding it) Dustin and the rest started talking about what to do next to get past a river full of lava. 

"Hnnn” 

“Try again.” Sometimes Steve wouldn’t catch the seizure, and think he was saying something that made sense when it didn’t. It explained a lot. So sometimes when someone else caught it, they’d let him know so he knew why no one knew what he was saying. 

“Shhh,” 

Eddie smiled gently at him. He looked like one of those cartoon characters that have hearts shooting out of their eyes (Erica words) “You got it.” 

“Sheizure,” Steve mumbled, “seizure.” 

“There we go, you’re back.” 

The game continued. 

Sources  

https://www.hopkinsmedicine.org/health/conditions-and-diseases/epilepsy/focal-seizures

https://www.nationwidechildrens.org/conditions/seizures-focal-partial

https://milesanthonysmith.com/blog/33-nostalgic-discontinued-reintroduced-sodas-from-the-80s-90s-00s/

Https://www.foodandwine.com/desserts/italian-desserts

Https://www.gamesradar.com/how-to-create-your-first-character-in-dandd/

https://www.epilepsynorcal.org/wp-content/uploads/2015/07/Partial_Seizures.pdf

[radioactivepeasant]

Snippets: Free Day Friday

There was supposed to be a Wednesday post, but then Wednesday got hectic lol. So they're both going into one long one: the "I isekai'd Damas into Stardew Valley simply for the sake of a few dreadful jokes and I refuse to take it back now" au

Spring, Year 1

Featuring an Incident that occurred the first time I found out what happens if you try to give an npc a flower but you aren't fully facing them

"It's a what hunt?"

Abigail looked up from the shelf and wrinkled her brow.

"An egg hunt? You know, for the Spring Festival?"

Damas blinked, bewildered.

"I...don't think we had those-"

in the desert

"-in the city."

The desert again. Why does that word keep coming back to me? They're only dreams. Dreams can't hurt you.

The young woman grimaced sympathetically. "Eesh. Probably is for the best your granddad left you the old Spargus place, huh? You barely know anything."

"Oh thanks a lot!" Damas huffed, with a bit of wounded pride.

"Well I didn't mean it like that!" Abigail elbowed him and finally got back to stocking the shelves for her father.

"I mean you got a lot to learn about Pelican Town!"

"So...egg hunt..." Damas pretended to be interested in a can of preserves. The way the light reflected off of Abigail's hair, that specific shade of violet, reminded him of something. A crystal he'd seen once. Somewhere.

"Eggs don't really move though. How do you hunt them?"

Abigail turned very slowly.

"You're...not joking."

"No? I'm not jo- why would I be joking?"

"Oh lord."

The girl raised her eyes skyward with a long-suffering sigh.

"Okay. You'd better come with me."

Be cool, Damas, be cool-

Like you were "cool" with that daffodi-

WE DO NOT SPEAK OF THE DAFFODIL

He didn't know Abigail well yet -- nor did she know him that well. Nevertheless, there was a nervous flutter in his chest as Damas dutifully trudged after her. At first, he thought she was leading them to the mines. An odd choice for explaining egg hunts-

Oh! Were the "eggs" actually slimes? Was that what was hunted?

No, it was not.

Abigail led him to Robin and Demetrius's house.

Demetrius had his clipboard on the table again, strained to the breaking point with notes and charts. Damas had only glimpsed them once and they'd given him a headache.

"Hey Demetrius," Abigail called, "Is Sebastian downstairs?"

"He usually is.”

The scientist glanced up.

"Oh! Abigail! Good morning! And-"

He blinked at Damas, then smiled.

"Young Damas! Good to see you, son."

He reached out a friendly hand to shake. Out of some strange impulse, Damas instead clasped his wrist and forearm. It felt stronger than a handshake, somehow. But when he withdrew his grip, he found blue ink formulas across his palm.

"What the-"

Demetrius blinked. "How did-?"

Then he craned his neck to look at his sleeves. He'd been leaning on the clipboard too long, pressing wet ink into his arms.

"Oh no," he groaned, "not my data!"

"Yeah we're just gonna...we're just gonna go downstairs."

Abigail smacked Damas’s arm and hastened around the corner.

"Hurry up before we have to hear him apologizing to "The Data"!"

Damas followed, squinting at the scribbles on his palm.

"He doesn't actually do that. Does he?"

Abigail shrugged. "Saw him do it once before Maru was born. He'll apologize to diagrams and not his own stepson. Weirdest thing I've ever seen, and I live next door to Pam."

"What is Pam's problem?"

"You wanna ask her? Be my guest," Abigail scoffed, "I'm not going to."

She paused at the basement door and smacked it once in lieu of a knock.

"Hey Seb, you decent?"

There was a clattering, and several painful sounding thumps, and then the door swung open.

"A- Abigail! Hi!"

The skinny boy pushed an absurd amount of hair out of his eyes. The instant he saw Damas, his smile became somewhat forced.

"Oh, uh- I...thought that was Sam."

Abigail sighed. "Ah dangit. You know what? Sam oughta be here too. Seb, this nerd doesn't know what an egg hunt is!"

Sebastian blinked slowly at Damas. "You're kidding, right?"

"Apparently they don't have that in the big city," Abigail said. "For real, he just asked me how people were supposed to hunt eggs if eggs can't move."

Sebastian squinted, jutting his chin forward in comical confusion.

"What? No- how does- what?"

He glanced at Damas.

"Come on man, there's no way you're that dense.”

"Well," Damas answered dryly, "I panicked when Abigail startled me last week and shoved an entire daffodil in my mouth. So the jury is out on that."

Sebastian snorted. "She has that effect on people."

"Okay, what's that supposed to mean?!"

Abigail shoved Sebastian playfully.

"Come on, at least let us in so we can educate this rube."

With Abigail's focus on him, Sebastian seemed to gain a bit more confidence. He stood to the side and waved them in.

"Hey Farmer, I don't think that's what "living off the land" is supposed to mean," he needled.

"Yeah yeah," Damas muttered under his breath.

"Did it at least taste okay?"

"It absolutely did not." Damas made a face, resisting the urge to scrape the phantom taste from his tongue.

"So. Egg hunts." Abigail dropped dramatically onto a small couch.

"If he doesn't even know that, what else doesn't he know about normal childhood stuff?"

"Probably everything," Damas volunteered, "I got my first part-time job with Joja when I was twelve."

The other two nineteen year olds stared at him as if he'd just announced that he slept hanging from the rafters like a bat every night.

"Mmmmmmmy gosh," Sebastian said in disgust, "That's the most depressing thing I've ever heard."

"Yep." Damas folded his arms and leaned against the wall.

He wondered if his blustering manager in the prison corporation ever found out he was the one who deleted an entire server's worth of files before running to Pelican Town.

That was probably going to catch up to him someday.

But that was a problem for Future Damas.

Winter: Year Six

“What took you so long? You have a death wish, babe?” Abigail glared at him.

“I wasn't talking to you!” Damas waved his hands frantically. “I was talking to Jak!”

“That's not better. You know that's not actually better, right? He's like forty minutes old, what was he gonna do, kick his way out when he still looked like a Muppet Show background character?”

"In my defense," the farmer said, "I don’t think it would've gone over any better if I'd said "I think the baby that just came out of you is a reincarnation of the past life's son I keep having dreams about. Because it sounds weird even when I say it."

Abigail glared at him and pulled their son a little closer to her chest.

"You've been visiting Rasmodius, haven't you."

"Have not!"

"That's exactly the kind of crap Rasmodius mutters about when he's on his "potions"! What'd he tell you it was this time?"

"That hasn't happened in years, okay?" Damas protested, "Guy freaks me out. I literally only go to pick up Marlon's stuff. I don't want that mushroom cooking menace around our baby."

"That's...a little harsh, but I'm on-board with it." Abigail carefully moved Jak to her shoulder to pat his tiny back.

"Eeeeehhhh oh I don't like this, how am I supposed to burp him?! He's so tiny, I'm gonna break him!"

"You're not gonna break him."

"Look at him!!! He's so fragile!"

Well, Damas couldn't argue there. The only familiar thing about his son were his eyes. Harvey was saying newborns couldn't see that far, that he couldn't make out their faces as much as their voices yet, but those little blue eyes had zeroed in on Damas’s instantly, like he knew where to look.

Were you this small the first time you were my son? I wish I could remember. But maybe it's better that I can't. You probably won't start having the dreams until you're thirteen, like I did. You can just be you and I can just be me. I'm not going to leave you alone this time.

"Abby can I-?"

Damas made the most pitiful face he could.

His wife narrowed her eyes.

"Are you going to wake him up?"

"No."

"Say weird stuff and make the nurses judge us more than usual?"

"No...?"

Abigail's voice took on a terrible mischief. "Are you going to try to put him in your mouth if someone startles you?"

"You're so mean." Damas carefully took the newborn from her. "That only happened twice, and I was a kid."

"That last incident was only four years ago, honey.”

"Mean!"

[godlizzza]

If you are still looking for prompts I would love something cute with married Middleaged danbert please!

Dan was surprised when he woke up that morning to find his bed empty. He'd reached over to throw an arm over his husband and partake in some lazy Sunday morning cuddling, only for his hand to fall on cool sheets. He slowly sat up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and squinting into the darkened room. Sunlight peeked in from behind the corners of the curtains, but Herbert was militant about keeping them drawn the moment they stepped into the bedroom at night.

This had proved to be inconvenient on certain romantic nights when Dan was particularly keen to get straight into bed.

He slipped his robe on and stepped into his slippers before shuffling through the house in search of Herbert.

"Herbert?" he called out, the sound echoing through the open living room and kitchen. He pursed his lips and approached the door that led down to the basement. He'd thought Herbert was past sneaking out during the night to work in the lab. He cracked the door open and said into the darkness, "Herbert? You down there?"

Still, no reply came. Dan huffed out a breath as he made his way back towards the kitchen, wondering if Herbert had gone on an unprompted grocery run. He couldn't help but snort at the thought. In their fifteen years of marriage, Dan didn't think he could remember a single time Herbert had willingly gone shopping unless it was for the work. He was considering trying to call Herbert on the cellphone he'd forced him to get when he glanced out the back door and paused.

Herbert was standing at the base of the clothesline, methodically hanging bedsheets. His back was to Dan, the starched white fabric of his shirt blending in with the fluttering sheets.

Dan slid the glass door aside and stepped outside, the morning sun instantly seeping through his robe and warming his skin. He stepped up behind Herbert and wrapped his arms around his middle, pulling him back until his back was pressed to Dan's chest.

"There you are," Dan mumbled sleepily into Herbert's hair. "I couldn't find you."

"I wasn't hiding," Herbert replied, leaning back against Dan. He'd stopped flinching at Dan's sudden appearances long ago.

"What're you doing up, hanging the laundry?" Dan questioned, eying the basket at Herbert's feet. "The chore chart says it's my turn."

"You needed to sleep," Herbert said simply. He stroked Dan's hands where they were clasped together over his stomach. "You didn't get out of surgery until 3am. You were dead on feet. Evidenced by the fact that it's past ten and you've only just got up."

Dan grinned behind Herbert's ear. "Wow. You're telling me to rest? Old age has changed you."

"Shush," Herbert chided, blindly slapping behind him at Dan's hip. "Or do I need to remind you you're turning fifty next month?"

"No, I've decided my birthday doesn't exist any more."

"What a shame. I'll have to cancel that stripper."

"Honey, those days are behind me. I'm an honest man now. You're the only one I want to see strip." He pressed a wet, messy kiss to Herbert's cheek and Herbert snorted but didn't push him away, as he may have once done.

Dan released him and stooped down to grab a damp t-shirt from the basket. They hung the rest of the laundry together, the sun shining down on their little pocket of sanctuary.

[ki-irke]

Fault

Paring: Casey Acosta x reader

Summary: Y/N was one of the happiest nurses, until her brother died in an ambulance collision.

Words: 940

Request: I would love anything with Casey Acosta that man is dreamy 😍

A/N: I was waiting for this one. Also, Theo is the name of your brother in this imagine. Easier than writing Y/B/N.

You didn't have any family aside from your brother.

Mother died after giving birth to you, and father wanted nothing to do with you. You knew that he was still in contact with Theo, even if he tried to hide it from you.

You just pretend that you didn't know. That everything is fine.

"You're early today," said someone beside you, which made you jump. Person laughed, and you immediately knew who it was. You lifted your head while taking your eyes off the patient chart you were filling out. You mostly knew Casey from working together very often. He was also your brothers' best friend, and after he died, Casey has been trying to talk to you more than usual.

"I'm taking an extra shift." I answered.

"Just make sure you don't overwork yourself, okay?" He asked me, looking at me carefully. When he looked at me, I felt strange. I felt a strange feeling in my stomach and felt more calm at the same time. As if all the stress of Theo's death had vanished for a moment.

"Okay, I'll try," I simply said, smiling slightly at him. At the same time, our pager went on, so I passed the patients' chart to the nurse sitting beside the computer as I headed for the ambulance. He sighed again, and he followed me.

"Don't just say you'll try; just be careful." I nooded, but I knew that extra shifts would distract me from all the stress and pain.

"What do we have?" Bloom asked, "Distract me from all the stress and pain.

"Forty-two-year-old man, heart attack," the paramedic told her as they pulled the patient out of the ambulance. I immediately looked at the patient's face and raised an eyebrow in surprise.

"Dad?" I asked. I felt like the universe sent me my father out of spite. Bloom shot an eye at me but quickly sent the man for a vacant position.

I followed them, just to be pulled back by someone.

"Maybe you shouldn't be here," said Lauren, concerned by the situation. I sighed, knowing what she meant. She knew almost everything about me and my family.

"I know he didn't want to see me anymore. But it's my dad." The woman sighed but allowed me to go.

"Dr. Bloom, we have a cardiac arrest," Casey said as we entered the room.

"Adrenalin," the black-haired woman said to me, and I quickly grabbed the syringe and injected the substance intravenously, then put it away.

"Move aside," Casey said, coming with a defibrillator.

I sat by the bed my father had occupied for a long time, waiting for him to wake up. Max was here earlier to bring me some t-shirts and talk with me for a little. He didn't have a problem with me sitting here and not doing my job.

I felt as if somebody was watching me, so I turned around just to find Casey, standing at the counter and looking directly at me. I sent him a faint smile.

"What happend?" I turned around, just to find that my father woke up. "Where am I?"

"At the hospital. You had a heart attack" I explained, feeling as my anxiety started growing more.

"Where's Theo?" He asked, as if he forgotten that he was dead.

"Theo's gone, don't you remember, dad?" I asked. One part of me was hoping that he had some kind of amnesia.

"Y/N?" He asked, squinting to look at me. I grabbed his glassed from the small table beside bed, and passed them to the man. He put them on his nose and finally looked at me. I swallowed, stiffening as he looked me over.

"Of course." He laughed sarcastically. "Why are you even here?"

"I'm working here"

"And why is that?" He asked, getting angrier as he continued to glare at me. "You shouldn't be working here, because it's your fault that Theo is dead. You didn't even try to rescue him!" I blushed out of shame and somewhat of rage at the scene his father was making at that moment.

"Dad-" I tried to explain myself. That I couldn't help him, because when two ambulances collided with each other, not only Max, Sharp, Bloom or Theo suffered. I was there to, lying on the ground and having to look at my brother, who was probably beyond saving.

"It's all your fault, Y/N! It's always your fault!" He screamed at me. I got up so fast that the chair I was sitting in fell to the ground. I quickly left, ignoring the looks on my coworkers' faces.

"Y/N" I heard, but I didn't stop. I opened the staff corridor door and sat down on the stairs, trying to calm dawn. Someone came after me and sat beside me. Just then I felt a familiar scent, and I immediately knew that it was Casey. When he put his arm around me, I started crying.

"It's okay, Y/N." He said softly, stroking my head slowly. "You were very strong. It's okay now" He added, making me cry more.

We sat here for quite a while when i cried my eyes out. I finally calmed down, but he was still sitting with me moving gently back and forth while still stroking my head. He didn't say anything. He was just sitting here with me in silence, slowly calming me down.

"You're amazing, Casey" I said softly, making him laugh a little and kiss my forehead.

"Thanks, love."

"I really love you, you know?" I opened my eyes to see his reaction. He smiled at me and kissed my temple.

"I love you too."

[mysteryman-17]

undefined

[EDIT 5/11/2023: Be sure to check out the updated version!] The amazing art in this video was made by @bittybattybunny. She did an incredible job bringing the concept I had for this lil project to life; be sure to check out their other work!

You can listen to this track in high quality on my SoundCloud, as well as find the separate vocal and instrumental renders over on Google Drive -- in both WAV and OGG format! (For charters/modders: tempo starts off as 91, but switches to 110 at about 31.681 secs into the song. Time signature for the whole song is 4/4.) In addition, for the first time in almost two years, I’ve mirrored this video on my YouTube!! The rest of the description (including my brief story idea for this concept) is underneath the Read More.

Story: Boyfriend rummages through Snatcher's things in his tree. The Subcon Minions notice and quickly try to get him to leave, figuring Snatcher will be mad. He is, but not enough to actively hunt down a nuisance that's already leaving. BF is walking out of Subcon Forest as heard in the very start of the song, the old stuff he rummaged through still fresh in his mind as he takes in the once-beautiful scenery. But all of a sudden (at 0:31 in the track,) he trips one of the forest's many traps and is dragged into Snatcher's contract-signing dimension. Snatcher pops up excitedly, looking forward to tormenting someone with the prospect of menial labor (followed by death!) ...But then he sees that it's BF again, and is basically like "bruh..." But hey, a soul's a soul, so he's just gonna get this over with. Or so he thinks.

Ladies and gents, behold: my first "proper" FNF-styled track!! So firstly, like, I am genuinely shocked that I'm THE FIRST ONE to try to make a ground-up FNF track for Snatcher. I can't even find an actual track based on Your Contract Has Expired anywhere (only direct ports with random charts slapped on top,) and that's essentially the Megalovania of A Hat In Time!! ...Anyhow, upon seeing this shocking gap in the FNF fandom's musical lineup, I knew I had to TRY to throw my hat into the ring with this at least once -- I figured at this point that if I didn't do it, chances were slim to none that anyone else would. As for how I decided to go about working on this track: Oh It's You left me so much room for jazzy swagger, and Alpha Bookstore brought the potential to integrate his tragic backstory as the Prince into the mix. I also directly sampled Snatcher's Contractual Obligations for a better transition between the two initial sections lmao. I wanted to have the best of both worlds shine here, and sort of "sum up" Snatcher: a spooky, pompous bastard with a dark sense of humor, but also one that once had a heart of gold long ago (and maybe still *has* a hint of the old him in there... somewhere. If you squint hard enough.) It was tricky to get certain things sounding as I wanted them to, especially since I was worried the two tracks might not fuse well! All in all tho, I am incredibly satisfied with how this turned out, and I hope you all enjoy.

[mydetheturk]

it has been something like. eight or so hours. and i am still trying to figure out how the fuck my eye doctor lost my glasses frames???

like. ive been going to the same eye doctor every year for the last like, six years or something like that. they have never once fucked up this badly.

timeline of events, from my pov under the cut because it got way longer than i thought it would when i first started this.

i go to the eye doctor, having set up an appointment like normal (late because its been a weird summer)

everything goes well until the very end, at which point the computer crashes and loses the data.

annoying, but its fine, i just have to go back in the next day and do it all over again on a saturday while they're busy.

go in again the next day. they're busy as hell, so i am there significantly longer than planned, because i'd set up for a late timeslot on friday for a reason (nobody wants to go to the eye doctor at 6:15 on a friday. trust me. it's great its so dead then.)

go through everything over again, i get a huge discount because i had to go through the inconvenience of coming back to the eye doctor. this is the best news, actually, because i hadn't totally been sold on getting new glasses, but i needed them because my old pair literally make my migraines worse.

the first indication that something was wrong was the fact that they didn't have any trial pairs of the contacts i wear.

This would not cross my mind until i picked up the new contacts a week later when they came in.

I try the contacts. Nothing is properly in focus, and i just think to myself, "oh its just cause i have a new scrip, it's fine, I'll get used to them."

i did not, in fact, get used to them.

About a week later, when my glasses come in, i make a mention to the guy fitting them that the contacts don't seem to be right. he tells me i've got plenty of time to bring them back in, they've got policies for stuff like "wrong prescription"

y'all i went to a friend's house on the other side of town two days later and came home via the bypass in the dark and i couldn't read the highway signs.

that's how badly they fucked this up.

i give it to the end of the week to be sure. End of the first pair of contacts, since i wear biweekly ones.

i go in on friday like "hey. this does not work, when can you get me in?"

and the lady at the front desk was like "well we've got a slot open right now if you've got time"

"nope, i only have until the end of the hour because I'm on lunch from work and i don't have either the contacts or the glasses with me right now. got anything for after (time i got off work that day)?"

"the doctor leaves at (time i got off work), will one of these slots tomorrow work?"

set up the appointment for the next day; i've got my glasses and my contacts and the eye doctor put me through a series of eye tests i'd never actually done before, which was kind of cool.

he was like "if you could shift your bangs back that'd be great, actually, i can't tell if you're squinting or not."

and i was like "well i'm doing my best not to but no problem."

appointment went fantastic, he even had trial contacts for me to put in. i almost cried the difference was so stark between the old scrip and the new one. (turns out the old scrip was just off enough it was giving me low-level headaches constantly. fun! not.)

so i leave the old contacts and the glasses with them to get the lenses replaced and for my new contacts to be ordered. (i looked at the eye chart they sent home with me cause i wanted to see the difference in the prescriptions. there should not be a discrepancy of over a whole number between the two. per eye.)

i picked up the contacts last week.

and now.

today.

this morning, i get two (2) texts saying my orders are in and ready to be picked up. sweet, i think to myself. i'll go pick them up later, get myself a treat while i'm out. grab something for dinner, etc.

i get there and its dead because its been raining all day. fantastic! it shouldn't take long.

i go in.

they're dead.

i let them know i'm here to pick up my order.

here comes today's first confusion: the guy at the desk is having trouble finding my order. which. okay. not a problem (yet).

so i sit and wait and fiddle around on my phone for several minutes while the guy hunts for my glasses.

I am slowly growing more and more confused.

another guy starts helping him out.

the first guy finds a couple of doctor-style ziplock bags and asks me if i have my frames with me.

"Nnnnno. I left them with you guys two weeks ago. I was assuming when I came in, my frames would have new lenses."

I am very confused now.

the gentlemen go on the hunt for my frames.

several more minutes go by, and i am increasingly incredulous and more confused.

i think to myself "did they lose my fucking frames????"

the first guy is sent to the racks of frames to grab a pair of frames that look almost, but not quite, like one of the frames i left with them. blue instead of brown.

the guy goes back in with the frames and i am fully invested.

because.

it sure as hell looks like they lost my fucking frames.

y'all.

they lost my fucking frames.

they got ahold of the lady who's been so helpful basically every time i've seen her and they let me know the situation.

tomorrow, she's going to look into the situation for me. see if she can't find my frames, and if she can't, replace them. gonna call and let me know tomorrow what the deal is.

they offered to give me the blue frames until they could find the frames i'd gotten originally - from THERE, mind you - and i was like

"i don't need the glasses to see. i wear contacts most of the time. my glasses are backups."

so i wasted a solid 45 minutes at the eye doctor today and i'm sure i'll still have to go in tomorrow to talk to someone because they mentioned potentially having to re-order the glasses frames from another store if they couldn't find my glasses.

this was at like. 2:45 this afternoon.

i'm still just like how in the hell did you lose them????

spoke to my roommates earlier about it and they were BOTH like "you are having a shit time with your eyes this year huh?"

and its just like

YEAH. YEAH I AM, ACTUALLY. CAN I GET OFF THIS ROLLERCOASTER NOW

just.

crhist alive

[zeydaan-isabella]

A 90s Girl

Based on Summertown_Mall created by Sublimenol - with a story by LenoratheYinglet featuring  Lenora's Lucy, AceSentialSketches's Rowena, FoxxyTF's Darcy, rhodes's Ciara and Icaron's Sylvie

The readings were off the chart. But it wasn’t possible to locate. Not for a long time, not until they worked out the energy was that of Fae. So of course they sent Zeydaan. The wolf had the best shot of finding out whatever it was they were looking for if it was anything fae related. Whoosh! What they weren’t expecting, was a rather pleasant looking mall as they came through the portal. It looked quite old looking. Like it was built in the 80s, though the decorations looked vaguely 90s. Or the early 00s Zey couldn’t be sure. Documenting what they had seen for their check in message. What they saw was a bunch of anthros walking around. Mostly Teenagers. Must’ve been towards the end of school, judging by how many of them were around. The adults seemed somewhat… out of focus for some reason they couldn’t explain just yet. They sent a message to their team and entered the mall. Taking their time to look around the entrance to the grand building, none of the storefronts they could see looked familiar at all. And that was exciting, the prospect of a whole swathe of new stores to explore while they gathered intel! As they dipped in and out of stores they found themselves looking over odds and ends that seemed a bit older than they could swear was normal. But they didn’t seem to mind. If anything it was a blast to be looking over everything. Even if everything was a little blurry. And getting worse as time went on. Their eyes were perfect though, 20/20, so why was everything VERY blurry now. Rather conveniently at least they seemed to have wandered into an optometrist. “Here for your prescription I see!” There was someone behind them, giving them a start when they spoke up. Even squinting didn’t really clear up who they were speaking to. Everything was over and done so fast, they barely remembered making it to the mirror to check out how the glasses looked. At least they could see again. Even if the lenses were remarkably thick. Did they always have that purple streak? Their vision was horrible without glasses so they weren’t sure at htat moment as they toyed the lock of hair. She was here for a purpose! She had to… They had to focus! Even if they couldn’t quite remember why they had to be at the mall today. Were their teeth always this sharp, Zey couldn’t quite remember. They bumped into a clothing rack, “Oh clothes!” They spoke as if that had been their purpose for being out. They wanted a new hoodie, before the break started! They hurried over to where they had last seen it, getting excited at finally getting a Pink Floyd hoodie! It was a little oversized. But that was exactly how they liked em! Ring Ring! That was their phone but, something was off about the ringtone. They grabbed it and held the massive mobile up to their head. “Hello?” They spoke, their voice sounding just a little different. Everything seemed normal. The phone they had was heavy but not everyone had a mobile! Even if it was a chunky brick like hers. “Lilly? Where are ya, needed t’show you somethin!” A mostly familiar Australian voice came through the speaker. Although familiar, the name of who was on the line was eluding her. “What, who is this.. .again?” There was uncertainty in her voice, and who was Lilly? That name didn’t seem…to…  No, that was right. Why did they feel like they were forgetting something? “Ya ain’t waggin are ya?” Ugh Lucy always used too much slang when speaking. It made it a lot harder to understand what she was saying. How did she just remember– “Wagging? No my tail ishn’t-” There was the taste of metal in her mouth. “Nah skippin school! I know It's the last day but you never miss a day!” Lilly(…?) frowned, unsure of what Lucy was saying to her. School? She hadn’t been… “Jufft tell me now!” Lilly said over the phone. Holding the hoodie close to her chest. Something strange was in her mouth. Something felt off. But she was already used to the braces… “Nah I’ve not got the minutes for that. See ya here” Click. The phone call ended there. That was confusing, and she certainly felt guilty for skipping school. But she just had to have this hoodie right? So why did it all feel so strange? Like it wasn’t quite right! As soon as the hoodie was paid for they were slipping it on over their head. This would be so much easier if she wasn’t messing around with a backpack too. Wait where did– She didn’t have much time to think about that. When she could finally see again, ahead of her was the music shop. Right there in the window was her dream guitar. She was good with the one the school provided but she wanted her own! But this one always seemed just out of reach. Lilly hurried over to it, wanting to get a closer look. Her mouth hung open as she stared at it fogging up the glass. She wanted it so bad. “Half priysche!!” She saw the tag. It was on sale too! And she had enough money for it!! Someone cleared their throat! “Miss California?” Quickly, Lilly turned around to meet her gaze with a security guard. She immediately shied away from them, pressing her sleeves together awkwardly. “I know it's the last day of school but you shouldn’t be skipping school young lady! What would your parents think! Honestly those friends of yours…” He went on for a bit. “I jush- jusht needed a guitar for my final lesshon today!!” She lied. Pointing at it and the still fogged up window from where she had been fawning over it. The guard looked between her and the guitar. Raising a brow at what she said. “Go on then. But I am taking you straight back to school.” She nodded and let out a little “Yesshsir!!” and hurried inside purchasing the guitar there and then. Slinging it over her backpack and hurrying out. No need for a case today! The school looked as unexceptional as ever, so why did the whole walk through the building fel off. Like she wasn’t supposed to be here. She had been sent somewhere to do… something? Their head felt so fuzzy as they tried to focus. “Well look who it is!” Lucy! That brought her back to the moment. She looked away, finding the wall furthest away from the rest of the class to be more interesting at that moment. “Sshorry I’m late” Lilly spoke and sat by the fox sitting her things down by her desk, listening as the teacher got back into talking about the holiday reading and other activities the class could do on their break. Lilly just looked embarrassed as the bell rang for Lunch. She stared at the red left in her hair, thinking. So completely lost in those thoughts as the fox spoke next to her. Something was off but she couldn’t quite work out what, like the thoughts were there! Right on the tip of her tongue. Locker's opening brought her back to what she was doing. She had to finally gather the last things out of her locker before the last period. Final day before summer vacation. She opened the locker and saw various things that seemed to slot into place in her mind- the calculator with the cracked screen, the pages of various homeworks for various people, the girl scout sash her mom made her show off to the rest of class, and of course her beloved gameboy and pokémon cards she wanted to show off. Lastly, atop them all was her bright pink shoes staring back at her. That must be it, she wasn’t wearing them today. And a beanie…her beanie. She picked it up and stared at it for a moment.  The last of the red fading away as she settled on this being the reason she felt so off all day. Pretty silly thing to leave at school, especially so close to leaving for the summer! “I swear ya ain’t listenin or am I just earbashin ya?” Lucy laughed, closing her locker, turning to face the wolf. Lilly turned to face Lucy, “Wh-what? No no I’vffe felt a little off today–” Whatever was troubling her seemed to be completely gone now. No nagging feeling, guess it really was her beanie and shoes! “Good! Because you’ll be stoked mate! I got us tickets to that Green Day show this weekend!” Lilly completely matched the fox and her excitement, a nice change from the usual resting bitchface Lucy usually had. “Really?! You’re sherioush!” Her tail was wagging side to side barely able to contain herself as she let out an excited squeal! “Yea mate! ‘m pretty rapt I got em! ‘S gonna be heaps of fun!” She gestured Lilly to follow as she walked. “Glad ya got a guitar too! We got practice tonight!” “Oh shoot! Practish right! Yesh!” That was why she needed it! The band was going to put on a show! And she never felt anxious on that stage with them.

[envysnest]

Snakeskin (Sephiroth/Reader) (ch. 1/?)

AO3 / Pillowfort

Rating: Explicit

Chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / 9 / 10 / 11 / 12 / 13 / 14

Tags: First Time, Reader-Insert, Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Frank Discussions of Past Rape/Abuse, Everyone is Queer, Canon-Compliant (if you squint), Pre-Crisis-Core Seph, Slow Burn, i continue to disappoint my friends and family, sephiroth is a virgin and in this essay i will, Reader is a Cis Woman, fluffy sex, Praise Kink, Gratuitous Biochemistry

Summary:

You are a young biologist, fresh out of graduate school, working in Shinra's R&D Division under Professor Hojo. You had long since given up on finding a partner and starting a family, preferring instead the company of your cell samples and your scientific instruments.

As the conflict in Wutai worsens, you strike up an unexpected friendship with a First Class SOLDIER.

(Sephiroth/Reader Slow Burn)

---

November was rough and cold. The steam heater in your Sector 8 apartment had broken roughly twenty years ago, and it groaned and hissed uselessly in the background. Luckily, the electricity was still working: the benefit of being so close to a reactor. You squinted against your desk lamp. The news burbled on the TV: something about Wutai again.

You clipped off the wire with a snip. There was something deeply satisfying about using salvaged scrap for jewelry. It felt as if you were giving old, worthless things new beauty, new meaning.

A tiny copper butterfly dangled off of the edge of the bracelet. It twinkled in the light of your desk lamp.

As you leaned back to admire your work, you couldn’t help but feel pride at how it came alive under your hands. The right hands.

Someone had thought this was garbage, once. You knew better.

---

As you filled your lab notebook, dutifully pasting tables and charts on the lined pages, a younger research assistant tapped your shoulder. When you looked up at her, she beamed and whispered your name with excitement.

“They’re coming back,” she said. “The SOLDIERs. Wanna see them?"

You blinked and looked down at your notebook, surrounded by scraps of data. “I mean…I really need to finish this.”

The assistant groaned and rolled her eyes. “Please. You work enough as it is. Come on.”

As if on cue, a cheer erupted from outside of the lab.

You pushed your stool away from the lab bench. “Hojo will kill us.” With practiced hands, you removed your gloves: first one, then, with a thumb hooked under the wrist, the other. They went straight into the biohazard bin: an unnecessary waste, you surmised, but Shinra had the money to burn for endless gloves. You weren't in grad school anymore.

The assistant didn’t even wait for you as she joined the masses of scientists, assistants, and technicians running to the glass windows overlooking the rest of the floor. You got up and shuffled to the back of the crowd, where you had to stand on tip-toes to get a look at who was returning.

Muffled whispers of excitement erupted when the Third Classes came up the escalators. Upon seeing the gaggle of scientists pressed against the glass, they lifted their hands up in a celebratory wave. Several of your coworkers clapped.

Then the Second Classes: proud in their dark blue uniforms, staring dutifully forward. A few of the scientists broke off from the crowd and left the labs to greet them. The Second Classes, with less bravado than their Third-Class peers, waved shyly back at the burgeoning crowd.

“First Classes next,” someone hissed. Another chunk of employees broke off from the crowd. There was a tense silence.

A cheer bubbled up from the crowd when the First Classes came up the escalator.

There were fewer SOLDIERs this time, but they walked as individuals, rather than as a crowd. The first man looked more like the Second Classes: turtleneck, leather suspenders, sword slung over one shoulder. His hair was dark and swept back. He kept his head down as employees crowded around him, but there was no mistaking the smile on his face.

The second SOLDIER had far more bravado: a red duster, fluffy red hair cut into a bob, a feminine face that reminded you of a sated cat. He held out his arms to welcome the crowd, laughing and grinning as people tugged on his coat. When he kissed a female employee’s hand, the crowd roared its approval.

He hadn’t even left your line of sight before the crowd shifted and pushed, and before you knew it, you were left standing alone as everyone poured out the doors to greet the last SOLDIER. You craned your neck to see above everyone’s heads.

“Sephiroth!” someone shouted, and the crowd surged forward.

You had been working for Shinra for less than a year, but even you knew that name.

Sephiroth stood a full head above the crowd. He looked withdrawn, off-put by the excited mob that greeted him as he walked off the escalator. Unlike with his colleague, no one reached out to touch him; everyone backed away to allow him to move through the awestruck crowd. He walked with his shoulders back and his head high: a god among mortals, an Other.

You fiddled with the butterfly charm and watched him. Almost everyone had their phones out; someone leaned in for a selfie, and you could see Sephiroth heave a sigh before he gamely bent down into frame. He didn’t bother smiling, but no one seemed to care.

As he straightened, he glanced towards the lab and made eye contact with you.

Even from this distance, his eyes were bright with mako. You straightened up, holding your arms to your chest as if to protect yourself.

There was a deep, weary disappointment on his face.

He lowered his eyes and turned away.

---

The steam heater wasn’t any better when you returned that night. You put on every blanket you had and sat down at your desk. There was still a mass of steel on your desk that you hadn’t gotten around to working with: a sheet likely dropped from the Plate itself. You shook out the storage box, and the steel tumbled out onto your bench. A charm today, you thought, like the butterfly. You swiveled in your chair to turn the TV on, settled on some mindless soap opera.

This would be small: a keepsake, something to treasure and hold close. As you worked, you thought on the flowers in Sector Five, the fat honeybees lazily drifting from bloom to bloom, the hot sun (so far away now, in this winter cocoon that had closed around Midgar like a fist). You felt like time stopped then, surrounded by the plants and delicate machinations of life: things with purpose, and yet no purpose at all. It was at times like this that you could close your eyes and feel the Lifestream: tiny little strings, plucked in harmony, each letting out a deep, sonorous note. Symphony.

Yes, that was it. A honeybee: a life-giving thing.

You sat back and turned the metal honeybee back and forth in your hands. If you pulled a tiny chain behind the abdomen, the wings would raise up in silent salute: reaching up, up, towards the sky, towards the sun. You had made its stripes out of old copper scraps from the butterfly.

Up on the Plate, you were so far away from the earth, the flowers, the warm and living things. The most lively thing you had in your life were your cell samples.

The process to harvest cell material went as such: you put them in a tube, put that tube in an ice bucket, and ran an electric probe through the tube. One flick of a switch, and the cells burst open, releasing their contents into their surroundings.

You were suddenly overcome by the urge to crush the honeybee in your hands.

You slipped it under your pillow instead. On TV, a character wept over her lost love.

---

This was a DNA isolation day: endless tubes, priceless samples evaporated into drops of water, filters no bigger than your pinky nail. Given salt, alcohol, freezing conditions, and time, DNA would settle lazily at the bottom of a tube. If you held it up to the light, you could see it there: a small, dusty fragment of life, so transient and thin that you had to press the tip of the tube against your thumb to even see it. Liquid gold, suspended in water.

Technically, this was research-assistant work, but you were stubborn and didn’t like the less experienced employees handling your samples. This particular one was a negative control sample: DNA extracted from a Third Class just entering the program. Nothing special about him, not yet. Today you were going to work on more controls donated by the Turks.

A bustle of activity came from the lab windows. You ignored it as you pipetted alcohol into the waiting tube. Tour groups and foreign investors came by all the time, anxious to see cutting-edge work. There was nothing particularly secret or interesting here: all of your samples were under code names, and some of the equipment was so old and fussy that you had to beat your palm against the side to get it to work. Assistants and fellow professors scurried around in their lab coats and safety glasses. You supposed someone who had never been in a lab would find your work exciting, but to you, it had become numb and routine.

You set your tube down in its container and ejected the pipette tip. You turned to grab your salt solution when you caught sight of a dark shape by the windows. Someone giggled. You looked up.

Sephiroth was there, listening intently to Professor Hollander as he gestured towards the labs. You set your pipette down and turned in your chair. He looked oddly demure, out-of-place, looming over the smaller man with a polite expression and his hands behind his back.

“Hollander shouldn’t be here,” you said to yourself.

Sephiroth looked up at the lab as if he had heard you. You locked eyes through the glass.

A lump rose in your throat. Hollander kept talking, oblivious.

Sephiroth tilted his head down in acknowledgement, a small, secret smile playing on the edges of his lips as he stared back at you.

You blinked and held your breath.

By the time Sephiroth looked back to Hollander and responded, your mouth had long gone dry.

---

The second time you ran into each other was on the way to different conference rooms. You were rushing to the crowded 60th floor elevator, a fresh mug of coffee in one hand and your notebook in the other.

“Wait,” you gasped, “wait—“

But it was too late, someone pressed a button, and the door slid closed with a dozen impassive stares watching you screech to a halt.

You steadied the coffee cup. A drop splashed onto your dress shoes. “God damn it.” If you were late to this meeting, you’d get flayed alive.

“Looks like we’re stuck waiting for the next one.”

The voice was smooth. You turned and nearly jumped out of your skin. Sephiroth, a tablet in one hand, was peering in annoyance at the closed doors, as if he were a normal employee.

He looked towards you and gestured to the doors. “Isn’t it terrible? Everyone’s in a hurry these days.”

You shrunk back. Up close, he was so much larger than you. You barely came up to his sternum.

You turned back to your shoes. “Yes,” you said quietly. “Guess so.”

He nodded at you. “Guess so,” he repeated, tone plaintive.

An awkward silence descended on the two of you. The coffee was burning your hand. You shifted your weight from foot to foot. Somewhere below you, the elevator dinged.

He spoke up. “Have we met?”

You looked up at him again. He was studying your face intently, eyes narrowed: not with disgust or malice, but with curiosity, as if he was trying to place you. You thought, briefly, that confusion looked strange on him. He never seemed to be confused about anything.

Too much, you thought. It’s too much.

“We’ve seen each other around,” you said. “I’m in Hojo’s lab? The…” You turned and pointed your elbow at the glass windows.

“The one with the windows.”

“Yeah.”

“Ah.”

The elevator door dinged. He straightened and turned towards the elevator, but he hadn’t taken a step forward before he was turning back to you. “Do you need a hand?”

“Huh? Oh.” You lifted your arms to show off the notebook, the coffee mug. “No, no, it’s…I prefer holding stuff like this. It’s okay.”

“At least let me hold the door for you.” Before you could say anything, he pressed a hand against the elevator doors to prevent them from closing. When he turned to you and waited, you realized he wanted you to go ahead of him.

“Thanks,” you mumbled. You felt your face heating up as you scurried past him, head down. You swore you could feel his body heat, so close to him. He followed after you and stood by your left side.

“What floor?” he asked, and you suddenly felt lazy for not taking the stairs.

“64,” you said to your shoes. Climbing such a distance would’ve been cake to him.

He pressed a few buttons. The doors slid closed.

Another awkward silence descended on the two of you. You wanted so badly to melt into the floor.

“Pretty,” he said softly, almost to himself.

You started and looked up, but he wasn’t looking at you. His head was tilted to one side, eyes narrowed again: studying, you realized, your bracelet.

“What?” you said.

He pointed to the butterfly charm. “It’s pretty,” he said. “Where did you get that? Underplate?”

You jerked your arm away. You wanted him to stop looking at you. “I made it.”

He looked up at your face. That small, secret smile was playing on the corner of his lips again. If he noticed your discomfort, he didn’t indicate it to you. “Well done.”

“I—“ You stared at him. “Thanks. Thank you.”

The tiny smile grew. The elevator chimed, and the doors slid open. You looked up: this was your floor.

“My floor,” you said dumbly.

Sephiroth nodded. “Seems so.”

You rushed out. As you were turning back to the elevator door, you saw him raise a hand in parting. Before you could raise one in return, the doors closed, and he was gone.

It wasn’t until you made it to the conference room that you realized: he had pressed against the walls as you left so you wouldn’t have to squeeze past him again.

---

There was a huge, gray wall on the way back from your apartment. Usually, it contained advertisements for various things: a larger-than-life poster for the 500th screen adaptation of Loveless, the newest flavor of Potion, Stamp on his hind legs. You liked to glance at it on the way home from work, guess at whatever the workers were putting up next. It had been bare for a few weeks, but a few workers were smoothing out the newest poster. You stopped on the edge of the sidewalk and looked up.

Shinra had purchased the ad space for themselves. Three First-classes loomed over you, looking off into the distance, heroic in their blandness. Behind them, in the distance, you could see rows upon rows of Shinra guards, all identical.

Always looking out for you and your family, said the ad.

You recognized the First Classes on the poster: there was the dark-haired man, one hand on his sword. His arms were crossed. The SOLDIER beside him had red hair and a long red coat. His hands were on his hips.

And in the center loomed Sephiroth, twenty feet taller than you, long hair flowing behind him. He clutched his sword in his left hand.

Something about the poster bothered you. You squinted up at it, feeling uneasy.

You took a step forward—

Someone shouldered you aside. “Watch it!”

You ducked your head. It was just a poster; why did it matter?

You scurried back to your apartment. High above you, it had begun to snow.

Go to next chapter >>>

[affcgato-archived]

Warren. ( @immortalmuses, moved because of beta )

          Layla’s enthusiasm is unexpected, but it warms some unnamed emotion in Warren’s chest -- something he hesitates to examine too closely. The pyrokinetic has been so intent on ignoring how he actually missed hanging out with Layla (who knew fake dating would turn into fond memories?), he hadn’t really thought about whether she missed spending time with him in return. He’d just assumed she hadn’t because... well. 

          Meeting her eyes now, Warren wonders if he shouldn’t reassess a few things he assumed he knew about Layla Williams. Maybe that unnamed emotion in his chest could do with some examination after all.

          “... yeah... I guess I can see that, with the animals..” Peace replies, his head tilting to one side in thought even as he unconsciously holds the door open for Layla. Together, they step out of the school’s primary hallway and skirt past the main office, escaping with the dwindling afterschool crowd onto the campus lawn. Squinting into the afternoon sun, Warren shrugs out of his leather jacket and stuffs it into his backpack. He’s got a shift tonight at the Paper Lantern, but the pyrokinetic figures he can take the late bus and just skip going home. It’s not like anyone’s there right now, anyway. 

          “So. What time did you want to meet?” Warren asks, ducking under the shade of a tree and slouching back against its trunk. In the distance, he’s peripherally aware of a group of classmates watching he and Layla together. Typical. “... I’ve got my dad’s old Triumph cruiser, but Mom’s not keen on me driving it into the city.” Which means the pyrokinetic will likely take the city bus and hope none of the routes are running late. 

         Peace shrugs, finding himself unbothered by the hassle of public transit when the pay off is hanging out with Layla, free from Sky High’s scrutiny. He smirks, “-- Just don’t make me get up at the butt-crack of dawn on a Saturday, huh Hippie?” 

she's really glad he's not immediately shooting all of this down, even if she's trying REALLY HARD not to read too deeply into it. he had been her homecoming date, too, & that... she really should have just stayed with him instead of buying in a middle school crush that really hadn't gone anywhere worth thinking about. nope. she's still not going to think too deeply about it. that's introspection for later when she's made some lemon tea & has the chance to hide away in her shower instead of the school grounds.

the rest of the crowd is heading out already, but she's content not to take the first bus. there's three trips down from the school, & her mom won't be home until late so there's hardly any rush. she'd just be heading home to work on homework anyway, & that's hardly exciting. if she's lucky, she won't even have to work too hard at putting together dinner so she can spend the rest of the afternoon charting the growth in her garden for the project she's working on, & finally figuring out how to actually make lemons. it's been BOTHERING her.

it's admittedly not the most exciting way to spend an afternoon, but she'll take it. it's better than the excitement of the last few weeks of school.

' the market goes until 2. I usually go early so I can get coffee, but I'm flexible. ' Will had never like mornings - it reminded him too much of school, was one excuse he'd given her for blowing her off two weekends in a row so she wasn't going to push her luck this time with someone else who might be even less keen on it. ' the bus is fine, it's not too long a walk. ten, maybe? would give you time to sleep in, ' the redhead teases. ' and I can keep myself entertained until then. '

[cffortner]

A new Begining

TW: lots of death

By: C.F. Fortner

In the bustling city of moving lights and fading dreams, there are always people to kill. Old, young, big, small. It doesn’t matter. This is the cycle of life, no matter who they are, no matter how important they are, everyone will die. That is my job. That has always been my job, to kill the people that needed to be killed. 

Today it is an old lady that came from older money. She is ninety-two and smells of expensive perfume. Her hair has been dyed black, but the sins of regret that seep out of her soul are blacker. She wasn’t a good mother; she wasn’t a good wife. All she wanted was freedom, and so she neglected and cheated her way to where she was. She cannot cheat this; she cannot get out of this. From the moment she was born, she knew this day would come, and here it is gleaming and beautiful in all its glory. 

Slowly I start to unravel her life, her dreams, her memories. Slowly I see it all and wish I never had. This part only takes a few seconds, a few seconds I will never get back. This is always the hardest part; a soul is a precious thing. It will go on and transform into new energy while still residing in the memories of people’s minds. Death is a beautiful thing, but it is also hard to kill someone when you know who they are. 

The old lady takes her last breath and her head tilts slightly to the right, her mouth opens a gap, and the monitor in the hospital flatlines. I fade into the background when she walks in. I have seen her so many times at this hospital, so many times she has walked in on the death of someone else. My heart that has made its home in my chest thumps for the first time in a thousand years. She is beautiful. One day she will die too. Her long dark hair will grow lifeless, and her dark brown eyes will turn cold and dark. She’d have a mahogany casket and a big sad funeral. So many people would care about her, and so many people would pretend to as well. It’s a shame. Such a shame, that someone like her will die someday by the likes of someone like me. 

The woman writes on a chart and calls a doctor into the room, I watch as she does. Her hair sways in a ponytail, and how her eyes squint intrigue me. She always has, she is an interest of mine. My next victim wouldn’t be until later. Three a.m. I had time to stay. To watch. I followed her out of the room. She makes a phone call, and types on the computer. The soles of her shoes are worn and stained. She should get new shoes. She should get a new job. This place is too dull for her, too dark for her. She shouldn’t be surrounded by the sick, by death. I should not follow her.

I am not good for her. 

For hours I followed her around and around. She visits patients and treats little children with kindness and sweets, and I watch. She is extremely pretty, and nice, and I want to know her. I want to know how she feels, and what runs through her mind. I want to know her hopes and fears, and if she fears dying like most humans do. I wonder if her hands are warm and soft and if she would accept me for who I am. 

No!

I must not think about that. No one will accept me, accept this. I am death, I kill, I destroy. No one will ever accept this. I should leave. I shouldn’t look at her anymore. I turn away from her and start to walk away, she would never know I’m here. No one ever would. She would never know how beautiful I think she is, how her voice sounds like a melody. I need to leave. 

The clock strikes nine, and I make my way out of the hospital and take a deep breath in. The night is cold and settles into my ancient bones it is unwelcomed but clears my head, nonetheless. I cannot think about her anymore. She is simply a girl that I will never see again. I let out a breath and take a step forward, my eyes drift back to the hospital one more time and there she is walking out the door. My breath halters in my chest and I want to fizzle into nothingness and become the ground she walks on. Her hair is down, and it flows in the wind, and she has never looked more stunning. She is tired and messy, but she is the personification of beauty. 

I must walk away. I must!

Her steps are soft and sound like pebbles hitting the ground every time she walks. I can’t help but watch. She stops as a chill runs through her body. She is stiff as a board, and I can’t help but think why.

“I know you’ve been watching me all day.”

I stop. Everything in my body stops, my heart, my lungs, my soul. She wouldn’t be able to see me, that would be highly improbable, but not impossible. She would have to be highly Intune with spirits and-

“Am I next?”

“Next?” My voice croaks out before I have a chance to think.

She turns to me and there are tears lining her eyes, “Yes. Are you going to kill me next?”

She thinks- why would she- “No, you’re not. I apologize it was not my intention… to scare you.”

I scare everyone.

She swallows and takes a deep breath before responding again, “Then why were you following me?”

Oh god! Why did she have to ask this? What am I supposed to say? “I uh, I thought you were…pretty.”

Pretty? Pretty. Pretty! Yes, that is a good answer. Not beautiful or exceptional, not the woman that I have found the most memorizing in centuries. I do not scare her, pretty is good. Pretty is a normal thing to say. 

She laughs nervously and I swear that the sun rose just for the moment that she laughs, even if it’s a nervous one. Even though she does not like me, trust me. She laughed; I made her laugh. I want to hear it again. 

“You think I’m pretty?”

I nod. My hands shake.

“What even are you? What is your name?”

What am I? So many things, I am so many wonderful dark things that I would gladly share with you, but if I do I fear you will run and never look at me again, “I am a reaper. My name is old and hard to pronounce for the mortal tongue.” She pauses and nods, “A… reaper. That explains why no one sees you I suppose.” She is silent for a second before continuing, “Did you kill Mrs. Jenkins?” 

The old lady. The old lady who took everything for granted and died alone with no one to care for her, “Yes. That is my job.”

“I see,” she turns and starts to walk away.

I follow her, running to catch up to her. She has to know that it was nothing personal, that this is a professional thing, and that I do not want her to hate me. I cannot have her hate me. If she hates me then that will mean everyone, I will ever meet will hate me. I… I just want one person to want me. To see me. 

“Wait! Where are you going?”

She turns and there is an icy coldness in her brown eyes that had not been there before. I knew that look, I’ve experienced that look one too many times, “Away from you.”

 “Why? I didn’t do anything wrong. This is my job. You have a job, and some aspects of it you must not like, but you still do it anyway. This… this is my job. It is not perfect, but it is all I’ve ever known.”

She ignores me and continues to walk away. I cannot have her think I am a monster. I am a monster, but I can’t be in her eyes. She is the one who has to know I am not a monster. I need her to understand. Understand me. I grab her arm, and it is warm. This feeling will be seared into my memory forever. 

“Leave me alone Reaper. I work with death enough. I don’t need it following me,” her voice is laced with arsenic, and if I had not been immortal those words would have killed me. 

“You need to understand me!” Please! Please just understand me!

Her eyes still rage with flames of orange, yellow, and reds, “No. I don’t.”

She walks off and leaves me there alone. I am alone. I am always alone. I will forever be alone. No one will want me. No one will need me! No one will care for me! No one will ever remember me! 

The fire in her eyes has traveled into my bloodstream, and it circulates around my body at impeccable speed. I need to scream, to cry, to punch something. I need to make her understand. Maybe… maybe if I show her who I am she will understand. Maybe if I show her death she will understand! She has to understand. 

I catch up to her and grab her by the arm again. She is raging with heat and life and a subtle heartbeat. If I stop her heart, I know she will understand. She will know that death isn’t the end it is just a new beginning. A new way to start again, she will see my world and the world beyond my own. Yes. Yes! This is the best idea. In death, she will understand. 

In her death, she will understand.

-

I hope you enjoyed this short story! It’s on of my favorites that I wrote in my creative writing class!

[peterpparkerwrites]

fine line - part one

a/n: I hope you guys enjoy this series!! it was a fun one for me to write because the dramatic irony was off the freaking charts lmfao, also there is an alternative ending which I don’t think I’ve done before (?) so that was fun too! this will of course still follow the same posting schedule of 11 and 7 everyday. let me know if you guys have any questions and please only dm or send me an ask to be added to the taglist - I keep missing ones in comments :( warnings: language, like I said a fuckton of dramatic irony just throughout the series you want to shake reader and peter, attempted assault, fighting pairing: peter parker x reader word count: 3.9k summary: you and spider-man are great partners, friends, maybe even more - but you and peter absolutely despite each other. there’s only so much time before one of you realized who the other really is (request asked for super-powered reader and Medusa as the name which I thought was sick so hopefully did that justice!)

masterlist ~ requests are closed ~ part two

~

"You know, I hate when you get that look on your face."

"What? You can't even see my face, only my eyes."

"No, but I can picture it pretty clearly. Something like this?" Spider-Man's mask shifted a little and his white eyes squinted, as if that was supposed to make you envision what face he was making.

"You're weird."

"And you love it, Frosty."

You scoffed at the nickname, turning away from your partner. For almost eight months, you and Spider-Man had teamed up to watch over New York. The city was a mess after the snap - more criminals than ever had sprung up during the five year gap, and of course all the ones that had been dusted returned. They expected to get their turf back, their drug rings, all their connections - it led to a lot of nasty gang fights and other crimes unlike anything you'd seen before.

Spider-Man was a little ruffled when he came back to New York after five years and discovered that there was another hero running around. You had only been at it for a few months before everyone returned.

You gained your powers and wanted to put them to some kind of use. You lost friends and family in the snap, and this was one of the only ways you could distract yourself from that kind of pain and help people. You were moved to New York to live with your dad, discovered that Spider-Man and a good chunk of other heroes were gone, and put your newfound powers to use.

A few months into your new hero gig was when everyone returned, including Spider-Man - who nearly scared the shit out of you when you were patrolling one day.

"Hello!"

"Agh!"

A red and blue figure was suddenly next to you and you did the only thing you could think of, which was throw your hand out and freeze him. Not literally - your power was more like an illusion, or invisibly binding, you supposed. As long as you concentrated and pictured something or someone frozen in place, it actually held them in place.

"Uh, what did you just do to me?" He laughed a little awkwardly, and you immediately dropped your hand when you recognized him.

"Oh my God, I'm so sorry," you covered your mouth with your hands, as if you weren't already wearing a mask. "You-you're Spider-Man!"

"At your service," he bowed, making you crack a smile. "And...you must be my replacement?"

"Replacement?" You waved a hand, "That's a bit harsh, don't you think?"

"I'm kidding," he held a hand out, and you shook it, "Nice to meet you...?"

"Uh...Medusa. That's what they've started calling me, at least."

"That is a sick name! If you want, we could do this together," he offered, "I think we'd make a pretty good team. Emphasis on 'pretty'."

"You don't even know what I look like," you laughed.

"I just have a good feeling," one of his masked eyes winked at you.

"I really hope you're not some weird old man."

"Hey! I'm seventeen," he put a hand on his chest, offended, "I hope you aren't some weird old man."

"You got me," you said dramatically, and he snickered. "I'm also seventeen."

"So. Can I call you Frosty?"

That was his stupid nickname for you, which didn't even make sense. You didn't actually freeze anyone - you didn't know how to fully explain your power, but it certainly didn't involve ice. He claimed that freezing people in place with your mind was basically the same as freezing them physically, so frosty was apparently an appropriate nickname. You figured he only used it because it annoyed you.

And despite not knowing at all what you looked like, he was a huge flirt.

He perked up suddenly, dragging you out of your thoughts. You were still trying to get used to his Spidey sense, or whatever it was called. Sometimes he would just stiffen and tell you that you were both needed somewhere, other times he would just stop talking mid sentence and grab you and go.

"We gotta go," he said quickly, already throwing an arm around your waist and jumping off the ledge you were both perched on. It was hard not to scream in panic when he did that, but you were getting more used to it.

You held onto him tightly as he swung you both down a few blocks. By now you knew better than to ask where you were going - the first time you tried talking to him while swinging didn't result in him hearing you at all over the sound of the wind.

He landed you both on the roof of a warehouse by the water. You both tensed at the sound of a girl screeching, and your heart dropped.

You hated these nights. It was more frequent than you wished, and it scared you more than most other criminals you fought.

Spider-Man jumped into action, jumping down to the back side of the warehouse where a large man was cornering a girl. You followed, getting ready for the routine that you usually had when it came to men like this.

"I think you should pick on people your own size," Spider-Man huffed, making the guy turn around.

"Neither of you are my size, by the looks of it," he growled.

"Ouch," Spider-Man visibly deflated. "I mean, personality wise, I am way bigger than this guy, right, Medusa?"

"Whatever makes you sleep at night, Spidey," you responded, relaxing a little when the girl got the hint and started sneaking away.

"I'm also not a creep who preys on women, so I think that says something about my character," Spider-Man's voice turned more serious, and the guy's eyes widened when he realized what you were both doing. He turned to where the girl had been standing and clenched his fists when he realized she wasn't there anymore.

"Where did that brat go?" He hollered, and your fists tightened. You didn't dare look in the direction you saw her run and ride.

"Nowhere you're going to find her," you spat.

"If you would do the honors?" Spider-Man turned toward you, and you nodded.

You held your hand up once you were both close enough, and concentrated. When you got your powers nearly a year ago, you struggled with how they worked. It started with you throwing balls of crumpled up paper in the air and imagining them stuck in place. That was hard enough in the beginning, and you could only hold it for a few seconds before it fell back down and you got a piercing headache.

Now you were a little more practiced at it. The man was wide-eyed and clearly struggling, but you weren't having as hard of a time. You concentrated on the idea of him not moving, as if invisible bands of air were keeping him in place, and it worked. However, he was really set on getting free of the invisible prison you trapped him in, and you had to step forward and narrow your eyes to keep it from breaking.

You held up your hand more, struggling to keep him still. One of the pains about using your powers by yourself, was that you had to concentrate so hard on keeping someone frozen, that you sometimes couldn't do anything else at the same time. Depending on how long you were freezing someone and how much they struggled, sometimes you had to just stand there. Having a partner certainly helped with that.

Spider-Man was whistling as he walked up to the guy. "Man, I wish you were around when I started, this power is so awesome."

"It's not gonna be so awesome if you don't hurry up," you said stiffly, struggling. The stronger the person you were trying to freeze in place was, the harder it was to hold it. And this dude was really struggling to break free.

"Okay, okay," he chuckled and grabbed the man's upraised arms, pulling them back behind him and webbing them together in makeshift handcuffs. You dropped your hand with a sigh, hurrying over to where the girl was hiding behind the dumpster.

"You okay?" You asked softly, reaching a hand out. She burst into tears and tackled you in a hug, stuttering out a bunch of thank you's. You looked up at Spider-Man over her shoulder, seeing that he had knocked out the guy, which probably wasn't necessary, but you definitely weren't complaining.

"Call the police," you told him, and he nodded, walking away to start talking to his AI.

"Do you want us to wait with you for the police?" You asked her once she calmed down, "We'll have to leave once they show up, but we can stay until then."

"Please," she begged, and you nodded, keeping a hold of one of her hands to keep her calm. You had been through enough situations like this one to know not to ask her anything about how she ended up here or if that guy had done anything to her. Instead you asked her about the themed pins she had decorating her backpack, hoping to distract her from the situation.

Spider-Man stayed by the guy, probably making sure that he didn't wake up. You also figured he got the idea that sometimes in situations like this, the girl probably didn't want to be around any men. It never helped when the police showed up, though.

"We gotta go," Spider-Man came up to you both, just as you could hear a car pulling up. You nodded, promising the girl that the police would be there soon. She seemed to understand that you couldn't stay - you and Spider-Man didn't have the best relationship with the cops.

You both watched from the roof as they hauled the man into the police car. Both of you were more comfortable once they had him rather than leaving too early, but not where they could see you. Luckily a female officer was talking to the girl, and you felt a lot better about having to leave her.

You felt a hand on your shoulder.

"Ready?" Spider-Man asked you softly, and you nodded. He slipped his arm around your waist and shot a web at a nearby rooftop, and you both swung away.

"You alright?" He asked once he set you both down at your usual spot. Somehow he had a sixth sense when it came to how you were feeling, but he also knew how much you hated situations like that one.

"I hate men," you muttered as you sat down, and he just nodded in agreement. "I hate to think of all the ones we don't catch."

"If you think like that, you'll go crazy, trust me," he sighed, sitting next to you, "We saved one girl from a really horrible thing today. I think that counts for something."

"You're right."

"As always."

"Okay, now you're pushing it-"

You got cut off as you both heard a familiar buzzing sound. Spider-Man and you exchanged a look, already knowing what that sound meant. The two of you looked down at the busy street, seeing some people already beginning to run away as a man started walking down, cackling.

"Ugh, can someone just take me out already," you groaned, putting your face in your hands.

"I've asked many times," Spider-Man noted, and you rolled your eyes.

"You know that's not what I meant."

"We should probably go after this guy. Again."

"This is a literal nightmare," you muttered.

"I can think of worse nightmares, actually."

You ignored him, and adjusted your mask nervously. This villain was awful - he was pretty much the only one that you two couldn't catch. A large part of that was that your powers didn't really work on him. Usually for a few seconds, but not long enough to catch him. Not to mention you couldn't even use it too many times or it would stop working all together.

As much as you hated the disgusting men like the one you caught tonight, they were a lot easier to deal with. Criminals like this one were much harder.

"No need to be scared, we got this," Spider-Man nudged you, and you frowned at him.

"I am not scared. Let's go."

You and Spider-Man jumped down a few meters in front of where the bee guy was standing. He called himself Swarm from the few encounters you had, and he seemed to have a liking for stealing. He had a briefcase of something he probably stole in his hand, and he grinned when he saw you both.

"Stupid heroes," he laughed loudly, "Haven't we learned already? You can't catch me."

With that, he burst open. You and Spider-Man both rolled out of the way in opposite directions, which was your first mistake. This guy always managed to separate you both and then escape.

You rolled up onto your knee and extended both of your hands, clenching your jaw. For days, you hadn't been able to get this guy with your powers - he was made of hundreds of buzzing objects that resembled bees, but you doubted they were real.

A couple of stings had left you both in moderate pain, but you were worried if multiple occurred, they might be really dangerous.

The problem was that you couldn't freeze more than one thing at a time, and this man was made of hundreds of 'things'. You tried to focus on the largest swarm of them, and the closest to you. But it wasn't working the way you planned, the stupid things just kept moving-

"Watch out!" Spider-Man tackled you from the side, and you both rolled over each other just in time to dodge a different swarm coming right at you.

When you both stopped rolling, the buzzing sound was gone - he had escaped again.

"Damn it," you muttered, accepting Spidey's hand to help you up. "That guy pisses me off."

"What kind of super villain would want to be bee themed," he muttered in response, making you crack a smile.

"You're literally spider themed."

"Whatever."

-

You woke up the next morning with a few stings and a headache. Spider-Man had suggested calling it quits for the night, and you couldn't have agreed more. The emotional and physical toll on your body was enough to make you hit your bed and knock out right away.

School wasn't something you were looking forward to, anyway.

You had moved to New York just a few months before half the population was returned. Midtown High was a nice school, one that your father thought would be a good fit for you. You made friends quickly, but things got complicated when students were suddenly appearing in the middle of class.

Adjustments were made, and several of your friends were put in different classes to accommodate the students that had returned. You made new friends, MJ and Ned, who were both really nice.

For some reason, though, their friend Peter didn't become your friend so easily. Or at all.

You got annoyed just thinking about him, shoving your books into your bag with more force than necessary. The last thing you ever expected was to have drama with some random boy you had never met before, but it seemed like the second you two were introduced, he despised you.

A lot of people were angry and confused when they returned after the snap, and understandably so. You originally figured he was stressed and would get over it once everyone adjusted, but he never seemed to get used to you. You weren't one to take hits without fighting back, and pretty soon you were arguing with him nearly every day over the stupidest things imaginable.

"Morning," MJ's voice interrupted your thoughts, and you realized you had made it all the way to school thinking about how much Peter Parker irritated you, which was just really pathetic.

"Morning," you couldn't help but yawn, hoping your headache would go away soon. You hated the side effects of your powers sometimes.

"What kept you up all night?" She asked as you both headed to your lockers.

"Physics," you lied, waiting while she shuffled through her books. "We have that project coming up, and I was thinking of ideas for it."

"Yeah, good luck with that," she snickered, and you frowned at her.

"What's that supposed to mean? I'm alright at Physics!"

"Yeah, but you and Peter aren't alright at communicating with each other, so I wouldn't be surprised if this blows up."

"I'm not partnered with Peter, I'm partnered with Ned," you said in confusion, before your expression dropped. "No, please tell me Ned didn't have him join the group."

MJ chuckled at you as you resisted banging your head against a locker. Ned had the bright idea for months now that forcing you and Peter together for things like projects or hangouts would somehow change how you felt about one another.

"Of course he did, and I'm not surprised he didn't have the guts to tell you," MJ shook her head. "Either way, good luck. Too bad I'm not in Physics with you guys, I'd love to witness the Peter and Y/N show."

"You suck," you pouted, and she laughed.

Ned was a little more hopeful than she was about the project, but it quickly went downhill fast. You were explaining your ideas to Ned and Peter thought they were stupid, and Ned tried to get you both to compromise on one but it resulted in you both arguing about which one would get the better grade.

Ned finally picked one of Peter's, much to your annoyance, but he let you use some of your original ideas to fit into the project. To no one's surprise, Peter didn't like any of them.

"This is a stupid idea," Peter complained, leaning back. You were all seated around one of the cafeteria benches outside the school, Ned looking like he made the biggest mistake in joining you two up for a project. None of you wanted to be there.

"Oh, and your ideas are so much better?" You frowned.

"Guys, come on," Ned begged before Peter could snap anything back at you, "I can't afford to get a bad grade on this. If you guys aren't going to get along I'll find another group."

As much as you hated Peter, you couldn't let Ned down. "Fine. I'll be quiet."

Peter muttered something that sounded like "yeah right", but you just grit your teeth and tried to ignore it. Ned's grade rested on this project, and honestly, so did yours. You needed to start showing improvement before your dad realized your grades were slipping.

Eventually you all decided to end it for the day and go home. Ned seemed to be sick of both of your bickering and tried to change the subject as you all walked home.

Peter instead began doing something that you were sure he was fully aware of. "Ned, MJ and I were planning on going to the opening of that new exhibit at MoMA next week, do you want to come? I'm sure we could carpool."

Making plans without you with you being right there. Awesome.

"That'd be sick! Y/N, you wanna join?" Ned asked excitedly, and you almost smiled at how sweet he was. Clearly Peter did not want to invite you, though.

"I think I'm good, I don't know if there would be enough room with Peter's ego being there."

"Pretty sure it's your attitude that would take up all the room," Peter snapped.

"Okay, that's it," Ned held his hands up, looking stressed. "I'm going the rest of the way by myself. I can't stand you two."

"Ned!" You both protested at the same time, but he was already shaking his head and walking in the other direction.

"That's what you get for jamming your way into our project," you muttered, and Peter glared at you.

"Ned and I could do this entire thing on our own, you're just going to hold us back," he said harshly. "Ned's only your friend anyway because he feels bad for you for some reason."

"You're an asshole," you snapped, pretending that what he said didn't hurt. You knew Ned was more Peter's friend than yours, but you hoped Peter was lying just to try to hurt your feelings. Ned was one of the only friends you had. Aside from your favorite spider, he and MJ were the only real friends you had.

"See you tomorrow, sunshine," Peter gave you a sarcastic wave before turning and heading down the other direction. You hated when he called you that.

That annoying look on his face haunted you up until you were masked up and at your meeting spot with Spider-Man. The stupid things he had said to you kept jumping around in your thoughts, too, which didn't help your already bad mood.

And you had to work with him after school everyday until this project was finished.

You kicked the wall angrily, ignoring the pain in your foot from doing that.

"Damn, what did that wall do to you?" You jumped and looked at where Spider-Man was leaning against the other wall, his mask shifting like he was raising an eyebrow.

"I wish I had Spidey senses, so you would stop sneaking up on me," you teased, your bad mood already vanishing as soon as you saw him. "Nothing, just annoyed."

"Someone's been annoying you?" He asked, and your grin dropped a little.

"You know I'm not going to give you any details, Spidey."

"Still, if someone was upsetting you, I'd want to know," he smacked a clenched fist against his palm, "I can fight."

You couldn't help but laugh at that, holding your stomach. "You couldn't be further from the truth. I'm just stressed about school."

Technically a lie? Although Peter did make school a lot more stressful.

"Then may I distract you with a night of patrolling, my dear Frosty?" He held his hand out, and you rolled your eyes but took it anyway.

"I would do just about anything for you to stop calling me that."

"Anything?"

"Oh, shut up."

~

tag list:

@somefuckshit1 @nocturnalms @sanniesdiary @peter-parkers-passport @chosuah01 @runawaywithmyghost @baby-bi-bi-bi-yeah @jallerentrags @spideysloverera @jemimah-b99 @redsakura101

[thed4rkhand]

planets through the first house

Planets through the first house

Ready for yet another astrology post? We’ll be covering the results of different planets when placed in the first house of a birth chart. Remember that astrology is super fickle and changes dramatically with sign placement, aspects and conjunctions. So without any further delay, lets get into it! Do reblog and like, it took me a lot of effort to compile my observations! Feel free to leave feedback!

Trigger warning- too many, these are just my observations. Also i didn’t proof read, so spelling mistkes could be there.

for Rahu, look at the saturn part. (north node)

for ketu, look at the mars part. (south node)

Sun in the first house-

When sun is in the first house of a birth chart, the person may be heavily influenced by their father. They may look like their father or have a similar personality. Such people tend to be perfectionists, its their way or the highway. They may have a tendency to gain weight easily, however if its in scorpio then they’ll dramatically shed it and gain it, in a loop. They are extremely magnetic people. They may deal with foreigners on a regular basis, or speak a foreign language. They may deal with the government very often and may work for the government as diplomats. They may obtain their higher education abroad. They can remain quite childlike till much older. They can be very protective of their community, traditions and religion, and aim to spread awareness about it. These people are actually rarely concerned with someone’s exterior, because often times such people have such good intuition and spiritual powers (some are literally called mystics because of this), they can literally see through someone. For this reason, they actually don’t like associating with too many people, despite having a very charming personality. These are the kind of people that keep searching for ‘the one’. People may approach them regarding projects first, and they may work for the government. They may have extremely powerful enemies, but they shall defeat them. They may be closer to their mother’s family and culture. They may have a peculiar accent when talking, and many people will compliment their speech. They may have frizzy and big hair. They’ll have heavy acne in their younger years. They’ll have small squinted eyes, often accompanied by crows feet. They’ll appear much younger, and so will their mother. Their mother might be very short. They hate being indebted and like paying off loans quickly. They’ll have beautiful hands, and they have a habit of growing their nails. Many of them like to sing. Their father could’ve been a teacher or worked in heavy research based fields, maybe even a musician or doctor. Their life may go through rapid ups and down throughout. They may be extremely fond of cattle and horses, and hate flying. They may interject and cut people off in conversations. They will fall for married people or people in relationships, they will be good cooks and feel alienated by their mothers. They may wear glasses early on, and also they’re into fire rituals or fire. (pyromaniacs?). you will critique people and say terrible things you don’t mean when angry. You will have a large forehead or a receding hairline. You’ll have nightmares and premonitions about death and illness. You might be very very fond of gold or golden colours. You will be argumentative.

Moon in the first house-

When moon is in the first house of a birth chart, the person is heavily influenced by their mother. They may resemble their mother or have a similar personality. Such people are extremely moody and are always preoccupied with other’s opinion of them. They may have a tendency to fluctuate between their body weight, and are likely to have body dysmorphia. They have short necks and generally are short in height too. They’re very critical and over-analyze everything and everyone. Sometimes, even unconsciously, they manipulate people to suit their needs and whims. They get side tracked too often and have difficulty focussing on one task at hand, often amounting to laziness in other people’s eyes, even if the native is extremely hardworking in reality. However when in comes to personal care, they tend to do things in a very half-hearted manner. These people are also prone to isolating themselves from others, especially when things get hard. Such  people tend to be famous or popular in friend circles, or at the very least well known. They can be extremely picky people and often can be obsessive in their thoughts. They may follow their mother’s footpath professionally, and may want to pursue fields related to law, beauty/architecture and biology. Their mother’s were very involved in their life. Such people are always on the internet trying to look up astrology posts, tarot, etc. They like knowing whats going to happen and like to be prepared for it. They can be extremely manipulative when they want to be. They may see a lot of prophetic dreams, and their mother or them often have pressure buildup in their ears or can hear random sounds or voices. They enjoy looking at stars and the night sky. They enjoy a strange fascination for water and looking at people’s eyes. They could be into massaging people or have ‘healing hands’, or their mother could.

Venus in the first house-

When Venus is in the first house of a birth chart, the person is heavily influenced by their colleagues, significant others, or their families. They’re extremely swayed by people’s opinions of them, and often because of this are very unsure in their abilities. Big doe-like yes are often seen with this, and an inmate ability to gain beer-blotches on their face. They attract people to them. They may have bad relationships with their families, and their mother could have had a miscarriage just before them. They can be hyper sensitive regarding taste, smell and sound. They may be excellent singers or play musical instruments. They dress up glamorously for parties, but when at home or alone, they’re usually roaming around like they’re homeless. They suffer depression if they’re not looking their best even, heavily into working out and grooming. They may be extremely religious or spiritual and may mediate a lot. They explain concepts very well and can be some of the best teachers around. They usually attract female friends. They love the smell of musk and love digging deep and researching, even stalking. They could be into ancient civilizations and history, photography and art, gardening and plants, fascinated with concepts of violence and death. They sit on their bed and work, they love the sound of fire crackling and fireplaces, they gain when in relationships and love asmr sounds. The most competitive people ever and so very possessive of their own goods, also back and forth with morality (eg. One day spiritual and the next they love material goods, one day vegan and then back to being a non-vegetarian)

Mercury in the first house-

When mercury is in the first house of a birth chart, the person is heavily influenced by what extended family or acquaintances think of them. Such people are also very concerned about their health, and can be hypochondriacs. They may also at all times think that people hate them, without any reason. They could be great speakers or orators or writers. They can have a great imagination, that is extremely vivid and unique, especially as a kid. They may want to pursue careers related to beauty with such a positioning, or even theatre or music. They may have a very unique appearance, and may appear androgynous. For women, they could look like their fathers, and for men, they can look like their mothers. They may be into research and like getting to the bottom of a matter. They may always have this appearance of half-closed eyes, they never open them fully. This gives them this drowsy look. They love making spread-sheets and calculating their expenses. They could have liver or kidney issues. They may get into occult due to their siblings. A lot of transformation comes into their life due to their family and pets. They may want to live abroad. They may have addiction issues to substances like alcohol and drugs. They may have troubles with their father. May cause rifts between your mother and your father too, causes them to have a love-less marriage. They may be called snake-like, dream of snakes and walk with a very purposeful walk, they kind of sway alot. They may be extremely secretive in life. You may have lactose intolerance, and may be envious of other people’s success. You or your parents have a lot of unaccounted wealth. Such people could hear voices in their heads, see prophetic dreams and have fears of the deep water. This could make someone very tall as well. May be fond of children and old people. Either extremely thick eyebrows or no eyebrows. Dimples are very common. Long necks and dark circles, deep sunken eyes. Very cutesy appearance. Skin is discolored and if the position is afflicted, skin diseases are common. Long hands and loves instruments like the piano. You can separately raise your eyebrows and the most, I mean the most, theatrical ones.

Mars in the first house-

When mars is in the first house of a birth chart, they’re very conscious of their own opinion, or are always thinking that someone may be watching them, like paranormally. Also, they’re largely confident in themselves, for they don’t really pay that much attention to others. In fact they’ll go out of their way to rebel. They could have suffered through acne, heat boils and other skin diseases. They have frizzy or curly hair, and very reddish complexions. These are the people who blush so easily and prominently. You may have skin scarring with this, as simple as acne marks and freckles, to larger scars and burns. So expressive, the type of people who can separately raise their eyebrows. They tend to be the type who change their appearance so very often, from weight fluctuations, to piercings, to hair colors, wardrobe rehauls, and all. They can have an element of looking foreign or different. They may have huge eyes and they’re almost protruding or absolutely sunken, massive cheekbones or hallowed out cheeks. They may have this mysterious look to their eyes, and this always sad or lost look. Eyes are very red, and often they have issues like sinus or nose is always blocked or watering. They may have hidden wealth, also the type of people to have the type of personality where you would never suspect they’re into occult. They are very close or have some karmic relationship (could be negative) with their father’s brothers. They also always think about escaping, largely to forests and retreating there for a bit. Very into finding cures and deep research. Also love dears, might worship shiva and are addicted to coffee. Also fasination with the moon. People might attract stalkers with this. Hoarders and so critical everything and everyone, especially hoarders of photos. Photographs memory and love for photography and art. Love for music and music instruments, and may own one and keep it in their room. Fidget by tapping pens or feet, have to make a sound. Can be argumentative and terrible tempers. They love garlic and onion and root vegetable stuff honestly. Also weird affinity for horses and speed. Also they love seats with hand-rests, the comfy sink into ones. They’re the types who go for the head of the table seat. Also we’re you born via a c-section and not natural birth? Something is off about your birth, could be the only child.

Saturn in the first house-

When Saturn is in the first house of a birth chart, it makes people extremely unconventional and almost a social outcaste. They can sometimes have these half shut lazy eyes, where their eyelid is heavy and big, and they always appear to be drowsy. They may be alarmingly fond of animals, especially large wild animals. Also they’re absolute perfectionists, they just get up and destroy the things they created and don’t like. Also rain or thunder ASMR. They’re also neat freaks, they like their stuff kept a particular way and don’t go around cleaning their room or touching stuff. They are usually influenced by their mother and are quite close to them, unless you’re born in the evening or night time, then you’re absolutely like your father, resemble him and act like him. They may hear a lot of sounds very regularly, in their head. Could be schizophrenic or just hear loud thumping sounds. Possible love having musically instruments in their house and could play one, or they know a lot of musicians. They may be the youngest in their peer groups or colleagues, sometimes oldest. They do have old-soul personalities though. They love doing volunteer work at shelters and looking out for the underprivileged. Their upbringing could have been strict. They make friends from around the world, you’ll actually notice that they might have a lot of middle-eastern friends or be intrigued by their culture. They could have problems with their backs and legs. Further, they may be very no-nonsense strict teacher kind of person. They can also alternatively be the life of the party person, or both really. They could either be extremely happy and jumpy in public and really broody in private, or the other way around. They work so hard yet rarely get results. They suffer through a lot of ups and downs in life. Usually this gives an innate ability to lose weight and appear rather slender, also tall. This usually gives some kind of unique features to the face, large eyebrows, pointy cheekbones, small mouths, exaggerated features and this kind of drugged up look in their eyes. For women, this gives a curvy look to the body, with great breasts (in relation to proportions). People love cheese here, also they are great with children. They get blamed for cheating or other issues when they haven’t done it. You go against dogmatic thinking. You may attract men and women. Great looking feet and omg the obsession with shoes? Stop it already, you don’t need more. Also stop looking at the watch and making schedules, stop being obsessed with time, or really stop procrastinating.

Jupiter in the first house-

When Jupiter is in the first house of a chart, one is usually undeniably lucky in life. People with this placement tend to be tall, and if not then they have a big bone structure. They will have beautiful feet. They gain weight easily. They are heavily influenced by their fathers and spouses. They like scholarly debates and discussions and dislike arguments. They are fond of foreign cultures and the other dimensions, they believe in religious interventions and god. They can be a bit conservative in nature. They were either born in a comfortably rich household or will have it later. They or their parents own more than one property. Their mother has bad health, and could’ve fallen sick after giving birth to them or never had children after them. Their mother is spiritual. They could obtain higher education abroad. They could be into fields of liberal arts, especially law and academics (like wanting to become professors), they could alternatively also be musically inclined. They will have an enchanting speech and aura, and people will commend their oration. They can be into writing. They could enjoy traveling a lot. They keep looking for love, it is one of their priorities even from a young age. They feel connected to spirits or gods, and often feel that there is something off or unique about them. They may have clairvoyant abilities and may practice activities of the occult or astrology. They usually have on and off relationships in life. You chase people you like. You need intellectual compatibility in a relationship. Very choosy about clothes, friends, vacations and all. Don’t wake them up from sleep, they love sleeping, or alternatively never get enough sleep. You do things smartly, not with hardwork. You may be interested in real-estate. They get into spirituality very young, around 16 when Jupiter matures. They pretend to be more knowledgable than they are in certain areas, might fib. They’re proud of their occult knowledge. Their is a polarity in their personality that everyone sees and what their close friends see. Maybe they’re extroverted outside and very introverted inside. Or maybe they have family issues and never speak about it. Could be anything. Also a polarity in wanting material gains like status, success and money, and wanting liberation and wanting to become spiritual. They keep going back and forth. Also they keep changing their opinions on things. Notice they have good hands too. Also acne and scarring. Terrible tempers, and can be asexual or aromatic, or just don’t like to show that side to themselves. The letter ’t’ may be relevant to them, either in their name, their family, or their spouse. Don’t invoke spirits of the dead please, don’t keep trying to shift realities either, chill. They keep their nails long. People usually don’t know that a native is into occult, as they have a very different outside persona.

[burnedbyshoto]

a nurses job

— Bakugou breaks his arms and as a nurse, you have the responsibility to make sure that he is comfortable, even when he needs to use the bathroom.

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pairing: pro hero!bakugou katsuki x nurse fem!reader

warnings: smut, 18+, prohero!bakugou, golden showers/water sports/piss kink, degradation (giving), dirty talk, lusting/pining, handjobs

word count: 5,050

a/n: so, I was going to make this a piss in ur mouth and pussy type of fic, but I kept seeing all those beautiful bakugou piss arts where he’s with a nurse.... so this is inspired and brought upon by all the water sports bakugou x nurse art ive seen for three months.

kinktober day 21 main kink: piss | kinktober masterlist

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You’re not quite sure what persuaded you into wanting to become a nurse as a child.

Maybe it was because your quirk (when you hum at an A flat, everyone within 5 meters experiences accelerated healing properties) was useless for Pro Hero work, so you realized early on that being a Pro Hero was a distant dream. Maybe it was because medical staff were still hailed as everyday heroes despite being in a world with people who could perform extraordinary achievements. It started as a small obsession to prove to the soon to be jobless, dream broken, and graduated failures of the hero course high schools that you had done more than them. That you, unlike them, were recognized as a hero. 

You were decent with math and science, so you strove for medical school. But with the horrendous costs of schooling, your then living situation, and your dislike of unneeded and unwanted competitive stress, you deterred toward the nursing pathway. It was a pathway where you really found yourself, or at least, you thought so.

Empathy, emotion, and the need to see people come out of a hospital better than when they entered was something that grew on you quickly and obviously. Your earliest clinical rounds often left you with swollen, tired feet from walking around for restless hours, but with a smile on your face that was irreplicable. With every semester in school, you got better, connected better with your patients. Your feet still ache after long shifts, and sometimes your smile is hollow and broken, and if you look closely, you could see dried tears and puffy eyelids, but you wouldn’t ever regret this decision to become a nurse.

At twenty-five, newly graduated from nursing school, already working full time at the best hospital in Japan, while studying for your degree to eventually become a nurse practitioner. You loved your job quite a lot. They had placed you immediately within their Post-OP, ICU, and recovery wings, and even though you were somewhat new, you were celebrating a year of working in a few weeks, you already had some… more than familiar faces.

“Well, Ground Zero-san, I guess you owe me a drink because unless my eyes are deceiving me, it looks like both your arms are broken, no?” you hum, your grin bright and wide, not even attempting to hide it’s glee as your high profile patient sat seething on the hospital bed. “It’s been, what? Two weeks since you last showed up here? You getting old?”

“Oh, would you shut the fuck up, you shitty ass nurse?!” Bakugou snarled, his arms obviously trying to tense and move against the large casts that envelope him. “The fuck would you expect to happen when facing off with a quirk that’s specifically meant to break people’s arms?!”

“Deku didn’t break any arms,” you point out with a soft laugh, eyes still scanning and reading through his charts to check his medical needs and medicine prescribed by the attending and when he should be taking them. “A bit weird that only half of the Wonder Duo was indescribably injured, no?”

A loud snarl ripped from Bakugou’s throat, and you stifled your own laughter as you raised your eyesight to look him straight in his raging eyes.

“I took that damn nerds hits because he’s broken his arms so many fucking times he’ll be forced to amputate them if he breaks them again!” Bakugou’s eyes were near white in his anger, but the intensity of his emotions was heavily diminished by the fact that his arms were strapped to his chest in thick, round bandages.

“You can admit you care for him,” you chide, ignoring his ‘like hell I do!’ Placing the chart down and walking to his IV drip, you checked to see if anything he was hooked to required any changes or whatnot. “Besides, this is not the first time I’ve seen you in here! It was quite surprising to see Ground Zero on bedrest on my first ever shift here.”

That much was true.

You had been working at Tokyo Hospital for nearly nine months now. Within the nine months, you saw a lot of heroes; that much was true. Your quirk was versatile as a nurse, and you were bright, young, very good at your job, and definitely a beautiful individual. So, when you were assigned to be working most of your days healing heroes because they were the backbone of the country, it didn’t quite catch you by surprise. It was a common assignment you had as a nursing student too.

You just didn’t expect the head nurse of the floor to assign one of your five rooms to be holding none other than Ground Zero, a.k.a Bakugou Katsuki.

Of course, you weren’t an idiot. You had known about the explosion hero since high school! You had sat in front of your TV in high school, attempting to do your homework while watching the rather intensive first-year battles. He had done well in every stage, placing within the top three each time and even winning the game! You had cringed at the awards ceremony but had been horrified at the news of his kidnapping. 

But after that, with the rising tensions of the villain world upon the dying world left behind by All Might, you had forgotten him for a moment. As time went on, and finally, a new support system was brought forth, Ground Zero, much like his quirk entailed, exploded onto the scene alongside Deku and a few other young heroes.

So, sure, you expected to maybe one day run into the ash-blond hero, but you didn’t expect it to happen on day one.

All things considered, the two of you got along rather well.

His... strong personality did make you wary of him at first, taking his near verbal barrage until you, very flusteredly he will argue, told him to ‘shut up, you butthole!’

You were horrified at your lack of professionalism, and Bakugou had gone silent as he stared at you in silence.

“Did you just call me a butthole?” he echoed, his face full of emotions you could not read. You felt on the verge of panicking, unsure if he was going to potentially tell on you! The sounds of a barking laughter rang in your ear, and you looked up to see his grinning, much more relaxed form. “Are you some shitty preschooler?!”

Thus began a working relationship of sorts between you and Bakugou.

He was an asshole, and you tried your best to not let him talk you off a cliff. It didn’t take very long for you to find out what made him tick surprisingly enough, and you used that to your advantage. The best way to tease him right now was by reminding him that he had been hospitalized more times than Deku, who apparently had held the record for the number of hospitalizations between him and his friends.

“Are you going to mention that shit first meeting every time we talk?!” Bakugou barked, his eyes narrowed as he turned his head away from you.

“After you admit you care deeply for all your friends!” you chirp back, stepping away from his IV drip, satisfied by what you saw. “Well, you look good for now. I’ll be checking up on you every ten to fifteen minutes since you can’t press the button until we can get those casts off! Did ya need anything before I go check on my other patients?”

“Open the damn window; it’s stuffy in here,” Bakugou grumbled, his face finally facing you again. 

“Of course,” you smile cheekily, your eyes squinting with your broad grin. “It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy!”

Standing at the side of the bed, you stretched over Bakugou to grab the edge of the window and slide it open. Through your stance, you were entirely aware of how this looked, how this felt. Your breasts centimeters from Bakugou’s face, your eyes never once breaking from the window to feign your innocence as you finally pull away. Even with scrubs on, you could feel his hot, sharp breathes expelling through your clothes, his ears tinging just the smallest bit red as you smile.

“Anything else?” you asked sweetly, failing to hide your impish grin.

“Put the water cup close by,” he grunted, eyes staring at the liter of water at his side table. Well, he wouldn’t be able to use his arms until just before he was set to be discharged, so moving the water closer was a good idea.

Nodding, you grabbed a nearby cup, filling it three-quarters of a way full before placing it onto the feeding table and dragging it near his mouth, a bendy straw already secured into the cup. You watched as he shot forward, putting the plastic straw into his mouth and beginning to drink the cold water. His eyes were back on yours, deceivingly cold had you already not been an expert on his personality.

With one final soft chuckle, you waved at Bakugou as you headed out, a cheerful smile on your face as he continued to drink his water.

“See ya in a few!”

Well, you guess there was one more important detail about your relationship with Bakugou Katsuki. For the past five months, you have been doing everything in your power to seduce him — to get him to admit that he wanted you too.

You knew the ethics and the morals behind falling for a patient of yours, much less a high profile patient at that. You knew that if your little crush was ever found out, you would most definitely be moved from his room. You were also damningly aware that you should have brought up your initial feelings for the explosion hero to your admin the moment it arose. But the thought and the way you were always so happy to be around him eventually overruled your logic. Five months ago, you had stayed at the hospital until nearly three am, talking with a severely concussed Bakugou. You were stationed for an overnight round with the task of making sure that he didn’t fall asleep. And for the first time in your time knowing Bakugou, the two of you somehow clicked into place, and when he was discharged the next morning — the nurse who had a quirk to rid of concussions finally arriving — he had thanked you.

It was so benign, so incredibly simple, yet the way the golden sunshine illuminated his blond hair and made his red eyes shine like a ruby, you found your own tired body feeling heated and warm. He wasn’t such a lousy conversationalist, and you had already enjoyed all your interactions together, yet it still caught you off guard to feel your heart pounding in your throat as he pulled on his jacket and left.

So after coming to terms with your sudden infatuation for the stubborn hero, you began to express your desires and feelings for him without having to say it. For all that he was worth and all that he expressed himself to be extremely observant, Bakugou Katsuki still had no idea that you liked him.

Unfortunately, your scrub nurse uniform wasn’t precisely seductive. The light blue of the breathable, sterile uniform was about as unsexy as uniforms got. But that never stopped you from leaning in too close when doing what Bakugou demanded of you. It didn’t prevent you from accidentally dropping papers in front of him and bending over to show off the curves of your ass.

There had never been a time such as this one where you hated that the old, ‘sexy’ nurse outfits were no longer up to standard and banned from use. How you would have loved to be wearing gartered held stockings just to accidentally flash to Bakugou. But, you suppose that it’s alright. Even though your feelings and ambitions to get the Pro Hero to like you as much as you did him, you never tried to push it.

For now, you were just an asshole tease.

You carried out the rest of your rounds in peace, your pager sitting comfortably in your pocket, unused, unneeded for now. The rest of your four patients were doing well for now.

One was asleep, most likely due to the medicine coursing through his veins, but his vitals remained unchanged.

Another was in the process of getting ready to be discharged, her family there to help her in leaving.

The third was eating his dinner, eyes concentrated on a poker game on the TV as he asked you to help fluff his pillow.

The last was busy with a physical therapist, her forehead slick with sweat as she attempted to sit up from her chair.

All in all, they were all doing fine, and you were back to the beginning, back to Bakugou’s room.

You entered his closed room door to be greeted by an empty bed. Your eyes widened immediately, the initial wave of pure horror flashing through you that by some freak accident, some murderous villain had kidnapped the injured hero straight from the hospital bed. 

“Ground Zero-san?!” you called out, a pitched voice of concern frilling your voice as you stumbled through the room. Your eyes were frantically searching the room, fingers feeling the lingering warmth of his body on the bed and your eyes noticing the empty water cup on his table still. The sheets of his bed haphazardly thrown off as if in a struggle.

Your fingers wound around the panic button, your ears straining to hear any sort of sign of Bakugou still being here.

A gritted teeth snarl was muffled from the attached bathroom, and you froze, unable to move as you felt the untouched button in your hands turn as light as a feather. You approached the bathroom door with soft footsteps, the smile on your face, unable to be stopped as you pulled the door open.

The sight you happened upon was something that made your lips curl into a wider smirk as the hospital clothed-clad hero absolutely struggled with his lack of functioning hands and arms to pull down his pants. Something he couldn’t do himself because the socks and slippers on his feet kept him from even attempting to tug his pants off with his toes.

In his struggle, undoubtedly miserable attempt to get his pants and underwear off his waist, Bakugou seemed ignorant to your arrival. His back still towards you, his head tilted down in his struggle as he twisted and pulled at practically nothing.

And as you watched him struggle, you couldn’t help but let your eyes drink in his form that stood tall before you. Most occurrences where you found yourself face to face with Bakugou, he was always tucked in a bed (except that time you realized your feeling for him), whether it was because he needed to be or because he was forced to be. So seeing him in his full height, seeing how despite your size, you were still only at his shoulder, made your eyelashes flutter.

He was tall, so deliciously tall, you wanted to climb onto a chair to see if he would be taller even with that added height. And oh how the flimsy material of his hospital outfit was stretched then against the taut muscles of his back. They flexed and shifted with his aggravation, and the only thought on your mind was to rake your fingers against the tempting muscle and skin.

“Shitty. fucking. villain!” he hissed angrily, sweat trickling down the back of his neck as he still struggled to do what nature called him for. 

But you couldn’t help it; the flexing muscles of his back, the lower tenor of his voice, and the way he seemed ridiculously larger than life at the moment tipped your restraint over. Your ability to hold back crashing through you like a tsunami wave, drowning you until you found your hand tethered to the tight spot at the center of his spine, your hushed words drifting to his ear like sweet, warm honey.

“You need any help here, Ground Zero-san?” you asked, your voice just loud enough to have your hot breath fanning against his sweaty exposed neck. You could feel him twitch in your hold, his body stiffening as he whipped his head around to look at you, red eyes wild, wide, and dark.

“Don’t ya know how to fucking knock?!” he snapped, his body flushed at being caught in the bathroom, unable to shed his clothes. He doesn’t move from your touch, and that small detail makes you warm, knowing that he wasn’t entirely repulsed by your touch. 

“You were missing from your bed, and I called your name,” you smile despite his angry glare. “I know you are susceptible to hear loss, but I thought you were still in the clear.”

“I ain’t fucking deaf,” Bakugou growled, his face twisted with a frown. “And that still doesn’t explain why the hell you’re here!”

“Oh, were you not just completely struggling earlier?” you feign shock, the grin on your face unstoppable at the embarrassed scowl that sets on his face. You step even closer to him so that your torso is perpendicular to his side. Your hand still gently touching his muscled back, and your free hand gently pressing to his own abdomen, the feeling of his flexed muscles, making you dizzy as you peer down at the white toilet. “Is there a villain in the toilet? I didn’t think that was possible!”

“Of fucking course not, there’s not a shitty villain in the toilet.” Bakugou flushed, his body entirely trapped by you, but he made no play to escape.

“Oh, so did you need help?”

Bakugou stares at you, his mind whirling a kilometer a second as he contemplates his next course of action. The both of you know he needs help, and still, the both of you are aware that his ability to ask of that from you is slim to none given he couldn’t even wait for you to return to his room.

“Tch,” he clicks his tongue angrily, annoyed, completely fed up. His eyes rolling to the ceiling, refusing to acknowledge you as his head nods once. “Help me, shitass nurse.”

“Of course!” you chirp, your eyes finding his hooded ones.

You give him one last warm, sweet smile before the hand on his torso lightly drags down his stomach, soft in its unashamed way of feeling him up. Your head tilted as your fingers hooked into the tight waistband of his pants and pulled it down, the heat of your palm accidentally dragging itself over the imprint of his cock behind his boxers.

The slight, flustered choking noise at the back of his throat didn’t go ignored by you, but rather but aside for later. Your eyes flashing up to see his red eyes wide, his cheeks so lightly dusted with pink as you managed to pull down his boxers too. 

“There!” you exclaim, your eyes closing in your grin before you turn your attention back down to his exposed dick. 

Immediately, you had to hold back a noise of pure want and lust at the sight of him. He was long, undoubtedly eight inches, definitely more. Although you couldn’t tell how thick, you knew his dick would fill your palm without a struggle. The trimmed, dark blond pubes and the protruding veins are what did it for you, your tongue poking out for a millisecond to wet your lips as you stared at his dark pink head.

“Stop staring at it!” Bakugou hissed, clearly embarrassed if the slight voice crack said anything about it. 

You looked back up at him, fake confusion swimming in your eyes as you tilted your head. “It’s only a penis. I see millions of these all the time.”

“Yeah, but it’s fucking weird!”

A soft laugh escaped your lips, your eyes rolling softly as you sighed in retreat, “Fine, fine, let's pee big boy and get you in bed.”

With your dominant hand, you grabbed his dick with a soft grip, pleasure simmering through you at the confirmation of the thick dick in your palm. But it seemed you weren’t the only one who thought that for the moment you tried to steer his dick toward the toilet to assist in aim, Bakugou hissed loudly. His flesh twitching to life in your warm, soft hand as it began to grow upward.

You didn’t say anything; your jaw remained as tight and closed as your vocal box despite the egging need to tease him and celebrate his apparent approval of your touch. So, eventually, in a voice that defied the nervous energy coursing through your veins, you asked: “Didn’t you need to pee?”

Bakugou let out a throaty, guttural groan, his anger hissing between his teeth as his dick twitched again in your hold, growing longer and harder still.

“I can’t take a damn piss with a hard-on, you idiot!” he roared despite the strawberry red blush on his cheeks. You admired the way he was still fighting for control of an upper hand here despite — clearly — not having any.

“Oh, haha! Silly me!” you laugh, your hand shifting against his length, your warm palm getting closer to the base of his cock.

“W-What are you doing?!” Bakugou spluttered, your soft butterfly touches sending him through a loop he clearly wasn’t expecting. “You could just wait for it to die!” 

“It’s a nurse's job to make their patients comfortable and happy,” you repeat your words, your hold on his dick growing firmer and harder just as his cock continued to do. “You clearly need to pee, and there’s no telling when your cock will go down.”

“I’LL MAKE IT GO DOWN!” Bakugou yells, but the usual sharpness to his tone has deflated, diminished to nothing but whining embarrassed yell. You look up at his clenched jaw and how a pretty pink glows on his cheeks, and you’re mesmerized.

Looking back down at his growing cock that warms your hand immensely, you hum, slightly twisting your hand around his length. Bakugou shudders, a whine hidden in his throat as you open your own mouth.

“Do you want me to stop?” you question, your eyes fluttering up to look at his clouded red ones. “Do you not need or want me?”

That was a double-headed question if Bakugou ever heard one. He looked at your glossy lips, the way they were pouted, so ready to be kissed, to be claimed, and that delirious look of want and need in your eyes. And he knows better; he knows that this is not the place, not the time to act on emotions like this. The need to pee sits heavily on his lower belly, just like the need to cum makes him twitch and pace uncomfortably. God fucking damn his broken to smithereens arms.

But you already know this, of course, you do. But you also know how stubborn he can be, how anal he can be about the littlest thing. So with no answer, you weaken your grip, making him think that you’re ready to leave, and he falls right into the trap.

“Make it fucking q-quick,” his voice cracks, the embarrassment nearly tangible as you nod your head firmly, your fist tightening around his cock.

Your warm fingers pressed onto his length, beginning at a slow leisurely pace, your eyes glued onto his face, detailing how he reacts to every small flick of your wrist, every little difference of grip in his hands. Your strokes began to grow larger, your fingertips tracing the bulging veins on his cock, your eyes hypnotized by the way his face pinches in his pleasure, the blush on his cheeks, the way the hot pants expelling from his mouth curl warmly in your lower belly.

“Y-You do this with all your shitty patients?” Bakugou growls, but it sounds weak, too blurred and slurred with his increasing pleasure.

Your fingernails drag against the underneath of his cock, tracing the incredibly sensitive skin until he’s slowly thrusting his hips into your fist. “Only the hot ones,” you tease, your thumb pressing against the tip of his beading tip, the warm pre-cum slick and spreading quickly against his flushed tip.

“You’re fucking disgusting,” Bakugou continues, his head tipping backward, exposing the slenderness of his neck that begs for your teeth to sink into. “Just needed to take a fucking piss.”

“Nervous, you’ll pee all over me, and I won’t want to suck your dick?” you ask, your fingers brushing near his scrotum, eyes blazing dangerously at the sight of his gasping, jaw-dropping face. His hips rut forward, leaking cock dripping with his pre-cum, and you giggle softly, fisting him faster, spreading the pre-cum against his heated sex.

Your fingers run against his throbbing length, your palm tight and hot against his cock, the veins you drag across searing against your flesh, ingraining itself onto your skin and memory forever. Despite it all, the obvious near tangible horror Bakugou has on the thought of pissing on you, he continues to fuck into your fist. 

“Damn bitch like you would probably l-like it if I pissed on you,” Bakugou pants, his casted arms twitching at his chest. His head tilted away from you, but his eyes burning into you, the red eyes hot as fire against your skin. “You want me to piss on you? Make you my bitch.”

The words burn against your skin, your teeth biting onto your lower lip as you meet his gaze. You’ve never considered it before, never thought you’d be into it. As a nurse, you’ve been around piss, shit, and vomit, and while you had grown unfazed by it, you never considered the prospect of a man pissing on you. But you thought of it, of Bakugou standing above you, free from his casts, hands on his cock as he smirks down at you with golden liquid spraying from his cock, soaking you where you lay. 

You shudder, pleasant chills running down your spine as you stare into his eyes yet again. 

“And if I do?” you ask, fingers rolling the head of his cock between your forefinger and thumb, relishing in the way that he snarls low in his throat. “What’re you gonna do about that, Ground Zero-san? You gonna piss all over your bitch after you get out of here.”

“You want me to piss on you here?” he asks, his voice snappish, strained, his hips drilling harder into your hand that was quickly speeding up. A battle of power and speed between the both of you as he looms over you, face flushed, pink, and lips demanding to be kissed. “Wouldn’t be surprised if you do.”

“Why’s that?” you breathe, his lips tantalizingly close to yours, a breath away as your hand grips and tightens even more around the base of his cock, causing a pained-pleasured hiss to rip from behind his teeth as he looks at you.

“Don’t act like your shitty ass hasn’t been trying to seduce me every time I show up,” Bakugou gruffs, his hips continuing a drilling rhythm into your fist, his body no longer shy or embarrassed.

“So you noticed but never said anything?” you counter, your fingers shifting over to his swollen, hot balls. You fondle them, tugging at their weight gently, taking in the way his eyes roll to the back of his head and the way his teeth tear into his lip. “Coward.”

“Hah?! Who the fuck—”

You can’t help yourself anymore, your mouth coming to slam against his in a piercing, searing kiss. He moans into the kiss, and you gasp back, tongues clashing together, teeth knocking into each other as awkward, nearing uncomfortable kisses are exchanged. His sweet scent of caramel wafts into your nose, and his grunts and groans are addicting, entirely enthusiastic noises that send your own thighs clenching shut to quiet the heated need in between your thighs.

Your hand increases in its speed, his whines and groans so pretty and piercing into you. 

“How fucking gross,” you laugh into his mouth, the slicked heat of his precum lathering your palm until soft noises of your fisting hand begin to fill the sterile bathroom. “You’re a child, wanting to piss on things that you shouldn’t. You came to the bathroom and got a hard-on instead of pissing, Bakugou, aren’t you embarrassed.”

“Y-Y/l/n,” he hissed, his jaw falling slack against your mouth. His hips are drilling into you faster and faster, the throbbing of his cock, the growing, thick scent of his caramel sweat filling the room and your senses. “F-Fuck!”

“Such a dirty, childish pro hero,” you smile your tongue curling into his mouth and dragging against the roof of his mouth as he shudders helplessly against you. “Cum already, Bakugou, cum and piss over yourself like some small brat.”

He shudders, and you find your mouth leaving his own as you stare down, spurting white ropes of cum pour from his tip, completely covering the toilet seat with his sticky white cum. And you watch as soon as his body collapses onto you, entirely spent from the orgasm, yellow piss streaming from his tip.

The toilet fills with his cum and piss, and you grin once his balls and bladder are completely drained. His cock limp and weak in your hand as you hum, your quirk activating and causing the exhausted Pro Hero to recompose himself so that he wasn’t entirely weak against you. 

“Such a good patient,” you coo, pulling up Bakugou’s boxers and hospital pants without a second's thought. Patting his butt gently, you watched as his still exhausted red eyes stared at you. You walked over to the sink, washing your hands so that you could continue to finish the rest of your shift.

“Don’t think this is over, shitty nurse.”

You look at him over your shoulder, your fingers curling under the warm water as you grin.

“I expect to be fucked and pissed on next time,” you counter, your smirk devastating and sending a fire right back to Bakugou’s groin. “No freebies anymore.”

[stylistiquements]

Day 1 : Soap Bubbles.

𐐪𐑂 Pairing : Sapnap x fem!reader {Playlist}

𐐪𐑂 Summary : You're being introduce to the internet in a peculiar way, it's up to you to decide what you're going to do with it.

𐐪𐑂 Word count : 1.4k | W: written part underneath

𐐪𐑂 Warning : very few swears

Masterlist | Previous | Next

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

The coffee that sinks inside your stomach brings out a grimace and a click of your tongue where the taste stains; too bitter, too acidic but you’ll drink it anyway and to the last drop; there is something about the idea of spending time with three best friends that is so made of spring and honey that you wish to miss none of it.

“Someone is lurking,” George contemplates out loud, and the call goes silent for a second as if to look for the intruder. And it would so easy to flinch, to hit the back pedal, because you almost feel like one being exposed front stage like that. But today- today is not that day.

It's not that you don't want to join the discussion, it's that it takes a second to warm up, to absorb the energy and become one with it.

And sometimes, all it takes is Sapnap to exclaim, “Panini head, my beloved!” for your smile synchronizes with his chuckles. Somehow, once noticed by the right person, life flows back naturally.

George and Dream greets you in trailing unison, like two kids forced to greet their unwelcomed aunt on a sunday afternoon.

“H-hey troublemakers,” you finally say. Your voice is still quiet, not reluctant, but rather uncertain. It doesn't bother anyone.

“I’m beating Dream’s ass at chess and he’s bitter,” Sap explains, and you silently nod, as if they were able to see you.

A long silence follows along, rythmed by clicks of mouses and keyboards and it falls in your ears like high droplets. It's comfortable. It's intimate, shared with friends only.

"We haven't heard from you in a while," Dream says. "I mean ... before the clout fiasco."

You wouldn't exactly call it a fiasco, even though you don't really like the idea of being perceived a little too closely from the eyes of twitter.com, but you do agree anyway, "I've been caught up on college essays lately."

"That sucks," George probably adds.

“Good thing you’re here, then,” Dream notes, simple as a breath. “This is a worry-free zone.”

It hovers for a second, carried by George’s approval hum.

You squint suspiciously, detective mode, at the profile pictures that light on and off before your eyes, “Thanks, dream.”

He scoffs a “sure” and you’re not sure why you sense a bit of irony stuck on the back of his teeth. You're so tempted to call him out, but you don't. Instead, you write a mental note of this odd moment.

“It’s because I told him about your three brothers and now he’s scared they’re gonna find him and kick his ass,” Sap explains as if he just read your mind.

Sometimes, there’s this thing in the air, though you’re miles away. Something like a connection. There’s this thing when you don’t need to talk for Sap to understand. Sharing one brain cell, you dismiss ironically. Probably coincidences and predictability, but it always sounds a little special, a little like something you’d wish to be out of this world, like morning dew and fairy circles. And it makes you feel safe, at home, just like snuggling up in the sheets during a stormy night. Your smile washes up the sleeve of your hoodie, covered palm carefully hiding your chuckles.

“Three older brothers,” George muses, and there’s no telling if it’s something meant for you to hear. “That’s kinda scary.”

“You better be scared, one of them is probably your FBI agent,” you tease mindlessly, though there's nothing scary about those three grown men.

“I’m British, Bunny,” he points out. Whether the exasperation in his tone is fake or genuine, that, you can’t tell, but you play it cool, grin carved so deep it almost hurts. Dream’s wheezes rise and fall in the background.

“Say that to his face then,” you outbid smirkingly after a second of silence, heels growing into the carpet to make your chair spin slowly left and right, so breezily.

“I’d praise you for the rest of my life if you-Oooooooh your ass is wacked. Your ass is so wacked, dude. You fucked up so bad,” Sapnap chokes out between strings of giggles.

“Oh no, my streamer is losing his game?” You theatrically pout. “My streamer Dreamwastaken, have you met him? Guess you don’t need any of my brothers to kick your ass.”

“Okay yeah- no- it’s not my fault if your- they’re distracting me, okay?” Dream defends.

Slowly, the energy lowers again and the call remembers peace as Dream admits defeat.

“I’m not playing against you anymore,” he mumbles through greeted teeth, your hoodie shelters a muffled giggle. “Let’s talk about y/n’s twitter fame instead.”

“Let’s just not-” you mutter, both because seeing Dream lose at something is a miracle that has to be witnessed once and because you’re somewhat reluctant. “Let’s just not talk about that.”

“Yeah, sorry about that. I had no idea it would draw this much attention to you,” Sap admits.

“Well, you talk about her all the time it was only a matter of time before twitter finds out,” George taunts and you secretly smile, listening to the way your best friend tries to defend himself, mind flooded with the last memories you have of when you were able to see those chuckles for real.

“Yeah, Quackity already told me you guys talk behind my back,” you fakely muse. “That’s totally fine, I don’t wanna know what you guys are talking about at all.” It’s a lie, obviously, the idea creeps upon your mind with assumptions you can’t quite get a grip of nor let go.

“You and Quackity talk?’ Sapnap asks, hint of surprise, and you hum.

“Or rather, he talks to me. He keeps calling-.” Shit. The forsaken word traps itself into your mouth. It’s too silly anyway.

“Come on, just say it,” Dream pushes as if he knew too much, more than you even do, and your cheeks flush mindlessly. You don’t notice.

“Dream, quit it!” You demand.

“Quit what?”

“You talk as if you knew more than anyone did.”

“Maybe I just do,” he coos, so dream-like.

Oblivious or careless, Sapnap asks, “Is Quackity bothering you or something?”

“He-" you begin but stop to look for the right way to put it, "He triggers my flight or fight response.”

"I mean, duh," Sapnap probably rolls his eyes.

"But I like him. He's funny."

After a second of silence, George says, “Well that was unexpected.”

“Not so much, I think we’re both chaotic neutral people.”

“What is that neutral chaotic thing anyway?” Dream is confused.

Roll up your sleeve girl boss because now is your time to shine! You offer your best dream smp alignment chart to the classroom. They're speechless, but they listen carefully.

"Then you're more chaotic good than neutral. You're too sweet anyway," Sap says.

"I'd even say lawful good," George debates.

"That's because you haven't seen Bunny during her crazy cat hour."

"True," you note.

"She'll go absolutely batshit."

“What?" George burst between confusion and surprise. "We've never seen you like that."

"A lady never reveal her secrets," you retort. No one answer.

It leaves a second for your mind to enjoy peace. For your eyes to lay on c!tubbo on lawful good and think true, then on c!dream on chaotic evil and think also very true. You huff and it's like a wave; as sarcasm leaves your breath, an idea comes in.

"Sap, check your DMs," you request.

Surrounded by the evening lull, Sapnap’s laugh pops like soap bubbles, "God, you’re so stupid. Why can't you just marry me?"

“So, is it Sapnap approved?” You chuckle lightly to prevent Sapnap’s morning fresh laugh to fill your chest and leak everywhere.

“Just press ‘send tweet’ please,” he confirms with leftovers of a smile in his voice.

"George, get me out of here. They're doing it again," Dream whines.

"Doing what?" He asks, unbothered.

"Act like they're alone in the convo. Just get a room." And you don't get to stand up for yourself that you and your best friend are actually sent to another room.

"Well this one is chaotic evil confirmed," you mumble as you roll your eyes but the vibes are much peaceful, much more comfortable in here. "So ... hi."

"Hi," he chuckles in return.

Maybe that's for the best; a moment that needs to stay a little timeless, secretive and special. It hasn't happened in so long, you don't even remember the last time it did.

"I'm glad you're here. I miss you, you know?" He says, and it's hard to not feel so bittersweet about it. It's hard when longing involves a craved touch, a real smile and an eye contact. Your shoulder sinks in the chair a little harder.

"I miss you too. I'll be here soon," you promise. And soon couldn't come any sooner.

But the conversation, soft and free, will wash up any worries, as always, and you'll end up talking about everything and nothing, about streams and planned videos and college and god knows what. As long as it makes the two of you happy and smiling. Just like the old days, you'll both think and it's fair to say until the evening turns into night and night turns into fatigue.

"Are you sure you're okay about that clout?" He asks once again. "I know you don't like being exposed like that."

"Yeah, yeah don't worry too much about it. I'll try to make good use of it."

"I'm sure you will," he murmurs, but oh boy did he not know what was about to come until you two meet.

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・　　 .・゜゜・　　・゜゜・

Taglist : @open-minded-chip-101 ; @itsoakaa ; @gaysludge

A/N : so first of all it has come to my attention that 129 days from now on is actually my birthday so that's a weird coincidence lol. Hi how are you guys?? welcome to the first part I hope you liked it. I'm fairly new to the mcyt community and that's the first time I write for them, so bear with me. Feedbacks are always appreciated. Until next time (ɔˆ ³(ˆ⌣ˆc)

[jonnnysuh]

How To Write Good // Vernon

A/N: It all started with watching Vernon’s English tutor series and now we’re here omg. This is my first series so please give it some love <3 kind of unedited so lmk if there’s any mistakes! PART ONE | PART TWO | PART THREE

PAIRING: Vernon x You

GENRE: enemies to ???, fluff, student!vernon, tutor!vernon

WARNINGS: swearing

WORD COUNT: 2.7K

SUMMARY: There’s the crisp air of campus, the rush of something new, and a four year degree ahead of you. Your college experience doesn’t go off as smoothly as you’d hoped when you fall asleep on course selection day and are stuck with left over electives. Struggling to get through your creative writing class, you have no idea how you’re going to get through this semester. Fate steps in when the stranger you fought in the library might just be your only chance at passing. This is all just part of the college experience… right?

Orange leaves began surrounding the burnt red brick pathway, and the small green hills of the campus quad.  Fall was fast approaching, without much warning.  The bright summer sky, now often clouds of gray. The wind brushed past you, causing your hair to fly up. Your legs brushed together quickly as you tried to make your way through campus to get to your Writing in the Arts class. You swore to yourself that you wouldn't sleep through course selection but sometimes sleep was an actual priority to you...and it so happened to be on that day.  Not your first choice, but definitely miles ahead of  Economic History on the list of leftover electives.

You flipped over your wrist to take a look at the time on your brown pleather watch. 8:12.

Professor Hampton was an older woman, who always kept her sandy brown hair in a slick tight low bun. She had enforced a rule that the doors to the lecture hall would shut 15 minutes past the hour. If you didn’t make it then you’d have to get notes from a classmate. Maybe it’d be fine if you had a friend in the class that was actually punctual, but you had often sat alone in the same spot in the far left corner of the class room.  Time was definitely never on your side as you reckoned you only had 3 minutes left until your trip downtown was rendered useless. 

You swung the thick metal door open, and began pumping your legs forward, not stopping until you reached the top of the stairs. To your luck, the lecture hall was on the exact end of the hallway. As you took longer strides, your gray backpack bounced behind you. Finally arriving at the end of the long hallway, you came face to face with Professor Hampton, who had a scowl so thick you’d think it was drawn on with a felt tip permanent marker. Without an ounce of forgiveness, that old lady secured the door shut, eyes keen on your betrayed face just a few centimetres from hers.

With the little pride you still had, you contained the urge  to bang on the door repeatedly and say "OPEN UP."

If you hadn't had time to get ready that day, or missed your bus, dammit this would've been the boiling point that would've driven you to  kick the wall. Your saving grace was that there was a cute guy typing away on his laptop in this hallway and you'd be damned if you were about to look a fool.

It was that moment, you knew that if you were going to pass this class without sacrificing a wink of sleep, you were going to have to make a friend that was good at writing notes. And quick.

—

The next day, you navigated your way through the twists and turns of the library, never having had been there a day in your life. You swear you’d gone in a circle at this point. You promised your best friend, Taylor that you’d secure a spot for your impromptu study date. Although you both had good intentions, you knew it was more than likely going to become a gossip session that involved sometimes looking at class material.

Among the rows and rows of occupied tables, you finally found an empty table, situated next to the window that overlooked the architecture and art buildings. You settled in the chair, slipping your laptop out of your tote bag , and typing mindlessly to look busy while you waited for your friend. With a look around the room, you wondered if people actually studied at the library or if they were just faking it like you.

You were so immersed in your game of Tetris you almost didn’t hear the voice that said , “Hey, I think you’re at the wrong table.”

You paused your game and surveyed the empty wooden table you were sitting at.  You blinked slowly at the brown haired man.  “I was here first.”

“That might be true but I booked it out for the hour.” The stranger stood with a slight slouch, sporting a backwards snapback and a deep green hoodie. He didn't look like the type to hang out around the library- but then again, neither did you. You swear you had seen him before, but you couldn't place where.

Did I go to high school with him?  you thought.

What if he was ugly and had a glow up and that’s why I don’t recognize him?

You took a closer look at him.

Nah. I don’t think he’s ever been ugly in his life.

“Look. My name's right here." He leaned forward, showing you his screen.

[TABLE 9] 3:00pm - Vernon C.

You pushed the phone away, unimpressed. "But you showed up late."

"It was only 6 minutes." Vernon scoffed, as if his tardiness would automatically forfeit him from his table.

"Well, have you ever heard of finder's keepers?"

Vernon nodded, his voice pointed. "But have you ever heard of fair and square?"

You tried your best to conceal the fact that you were somewhat amused by his elementary-level comeback.

"Could you look into your great, big heart to share?” You pouted tauntingly.

"Oh, yeah, because you need a table to play Tetris." He responded sarcastically but it was as if he had crept into your mind. You dreaded the idea of being on your feet trying to find another place for your game.

Your best friend rolled in between you two innocently, confused at the interaction at hand. It was like a kid walking in on their mom and dad fighting for the first time… except dad is a Tetris-hating stranger you just met 3 minutes ago.

“Sorry I’m late, Y/N.”  Taylor interjected, trying her best to mend the atmosphere with a grin.  Vernon's posture went notably straight as he exhaled, returning a sweet close-lipped smile. You couldn't help but notice the way he looked at your friend- you squinted at the shadow of the difference between this Vernon and the one that basically told you to fuck off only moments prior.

Without a doubt, you knew he was suffering from the "Taylor Effect".

Taylor was your textbook girl next door; equipped with a warm demeanour, and a confidence that was endearing rather than cocky.  You could tell that Vernon was trying his best not to stare so obviously, but he was failing miserably.

Because everyone gravitated towards her, many found it odd that she chose to keep you as company. Sometimes you thought she stuck around only because your personalities were so starkly different and would emphasize how great she was, but time and time again she proved she was notable on her own accord.

"Did I interrupt something?"

You and the man shared a look.

Vernon had a feeling that if he let you speak first, that you might ruin his chances with Taylor, and there was absolutely NO shot that he was going to tell her what had just happened. You were quick to take advantage of the situation.

“Vernon just wanted to take the tab-“

He shook his head, "No, no, no I was just leaving."

You raised your eyebrow, smugly.

“I'll see you later,” He bid.  Your eyes widened as he went closer to you, clasping his hand around yours and pulling you forwards into an almost embrace. He dapped you up. Vernon dapped you up. What? Did he think you were bros now?

Ya, right. You thought. This is my first and last time in this library. You will never see me or my Tetris again.

And with that, he swung his backpack over his shoulder  coolly and headed down the long carpeted aisle in the other direction.

Only a few moments later did he return to go through the north exit. “Wrong way.” He mumbled, charting past both of you.

—

“So you don’t know anyone in that class?” Taylor said in disbelief as you two sat at the table you had only marginally won.

“No, I missed the first two weeks so by the time I actually went to class  they already had their groups.”  you responded, blowing air out of your mouth in frustration.

School had only just begun and Taylor had swept up a bunch of friends, including you, in just this one semester.

You, on the other hand, were awkward, but not in the forgivable way. You never knew the right thing to say, and your sarcasm drew a fine line between a joke and the truth. You felt like you always had to bite your tongue to hold a decent conversation with someone. In turn, this scared a lot of people away, and resulted in a small but good group of friends that understood you.

For some reason though, you did well with confrontation. That was the only time you could force yourself to not care about what someone else thought about you. Other than that, your communication skills were almost useless.

“So go up to those kids and say hi.” Taylor responded.

You knew your best friend was being well meaning, but sometimes she felt like she oversimplified your problems because she saw it through her own lens. Of course it would be easy for Taylor to do so, but for you it would be a different story. Your stomach turned at even the mere thought of introducing yourself to the group of strangers that always sat all the way in the front of the lecture hall.

“I’ll just figure it out. I don't know how to just talk to people."

“What about that guy that I just saw you with? What was that about?”

You cleared your throat, fixing your attention to your laptop screen. Getting work done suddenly seemed more interesting.

“No, no, no look at me.” Taylor dragged your laptop away.

You begrudgingly looked at your friend. “What about him?”

“Who was that? He was kind of cute.” She cupped her cheek with her hand and sat closer, clearly interested. It was rare to see you with anyone other than your usual friend group so Taylor was invested in your endeavours outside of it.

You knew that if you told Taylor about your weird argument with a stranger, that she’d explain that you were unfriendly, that you needed to be nicer, etc. etc. You didn’t need a lecture today.

“Just some dude who finished using the table.”

Taylor chuckled, “What kind of guy says bye like that to a person he just met?”

Her guess was as good as yours.

—

ONE WEEK LATER

Determination is setting 25 morning alarms, pre-picking your clothes and opting for an on-the-go breakfast in order to just make it on time for class. You took your final strides towards the class slowly, knowing you finally had time on your side. Would it be crazy to call waking up at 6am a victory? Doesn’t matter, you were just so happy, you could answer Professor Hampton’s questions… that is, if you listened.

At the bottom of the lecture hall, sat the aforementioned groups, while the top were lonesome stragglers looking at their phones in an effort to look less lonely. You knew they were probably just reviewing their settings; turning their wifi on and off.

Professor Hampton cleared her throat into the microphone at the front of the class, prompting you to pick up the pace to your regular spot at the far left corner.

No way.

Your speed slowed down again, as you craned your head to get a better look at a brown-haired boy sitting by himself.

Despite the numerous empty seats to choose from, your caffeine rush assisted you in making the possibly dumb decision of sitting exactly right next to him. He seemed unbothered, though as he didn’t look up to question it.

Professor Hampton played her slides, while you pulled out your laptop out of your tote bag.

“Hey.” You whispered.

The man’s light brown eyes flickered towards you.

“You’re in this class?” Vernon whisper-exclaimed.

It registered in your brain that this might’ve been a mistake.

You nodded.

Vernon kept his focus on the front of the class, his pencil swivelled  away on his lined paper. You had never seen anyone actually take real-life notes before. You scanned his paper, pleasantly surprised at the organization.

“Why did you dap me up last week?”

“I honestly don’t know what I was doing.” He admitted.

Boys do dumb things around pretty girls. You'd seen it happen so many times with Taylor.

“She’s cute isn’t she?”

“Who?” Vernon was quick to play dumb, but he clearly knew. 

You were fascinated by how he was writing and listening to you at the same time.

“Taylor—my friend.”

Vernon squinted his eyes, either to think or because he couldn’t see the projection clearly. It made you wonder why he sat in the back of the class if that was the case.

“Yeah, she is.”

Bingo.

You silently relished in your impromptu decision to sit next to a stranger.

“What would you say if I got you a date with her?”

Vernon put his pencil down. “You strike me as the kind of person who wouldn’t do that out of the kindness of your heart.”

You snorted. “You’re right.”

Vernon let out a deep sigh, pushing his hoodie sleeve up his arms. He relaxed back in his seat and stared at you as he waited for your proposal.

“What is it?” His deep voice was littered with impatience but it was clear he was at least curious.

You weren’t  prepared to gain his full attention. Your mind went several ways as you collected your thoughts to be as concise as possible.

“I’m struggling in this class, okay? I can’t always make it on time, and creative writing? Not really something I’m interested in.”

“Then why’d you take the class?”

“Why does anyone do anything here? For the credit.” You responded as if the answer was obvious.

Vernon’s raised eyebrows was enough to tell you that he was actually passionate about this subject— which was perfect for you if you wanted to pass the class.

“How do I come into this, though?” His patience running thin from your incredibly interesting backstory.

“If you tutor me up until midterms and I pass, I’ll get you a date with Taylor.”

He shook his head “What if you fail?”

“Then you can take that as a reflection of your teaching skills,” Vernon rolled his eyes. Okay maybe that was a bad joke. “but on the plus side you’ve gained a new friendddddd.”

Professor Hampton gave you two a dirty look on her way back from shutting the lecture hall’s door. Vernon picked up his pencil to look busy and you tapped on your trackpad to turn the screen on.

“And what if I say no?” Vernon said between his teeth, catching the professor glare right at him with her scowl turned up to one hundred.

“Then I’ll shit talk about you to Taylor so you never have a chance.” You threatened. Your mom always urged you to use your brain, and boy, were you using it.

“You want me to teach you how to be creative?”

You shrugged. “I mean, how hard can it be?”

Vernon looked down at his notes contemplating his choices. He was silent for so long that you actually started typing notes.

“Y/N” Vernon whispered. You seemed to be fully immersed in the lesson now. Your eyes absorbing the information... Maybe writing was kind of fascinating.

“Y/N” He tried again, snapping you out of a trance.

“My bad.” you apologized. “I didn’t know the interesting part of the story was called the climax like ew—”

“I can only tutor you on Thursdays between 6 and 8 in the library. Bring your laptop and be prepared to learn.”

You knew you didn’t have class at those hours, so it should’ve been fine, but you also dreaded staying after school longer than you had to.

“What about 4-6?” You pleaded.

Vernon looked offended at your counter offer. “No. 6-8”

“4:30…?” You tried once again.

Vernon snorted at your no-quit attitude. “You wanna pass or not?”

You stuck out your hand defeatedly and Vernon shook on it before either of you could change your mind. Vernon was your new tutor.

Maybe Taylor was right. All you had to do was go up to someone and say “hi.”

And blackmail them. And use your friend as bait.

Making friends was easy.