#i wish i could have friends and work at the same time

[cute-little-fly]

Fuck, I relate so much to this it hurts, but seeing other people have this same experiences makes me feel not so alone on this. I realized I have never told my story so I will use this post to do it.

This is how I felt most of my school and high school years, except for a few friends that I managed to do until sixth grade of school and high school. So, in my case I have had friends, I have known what reciprocated friendship is like and that helped me so much. But I have also felt that sensation of being apart from everyone else by an invisible veil. Is very sad. I would really wish that we could be able to have better education as a society.

Even with all its problems for me school was better than high school. I managed to drag some people on my special interests like ants and insects. We fed them in school and got in trouble. I also managed to make everyone in school have a tamagotchi because I was obsessed with them. They sold them very cheap in the corner store near school. But I had to suffer so much before that, and even after that I struggled to maintain and have friends and still I felt appart sometimes. A lot of students came to my school only one year because their school flooded, then, they went away and I was alone again.

I remember I had this one friend in kinder garden whom I clung as if my life depended on it. Then, on first grade she told me she wanted to have more friends, to go and run and play and that basically she probably didn’t enjoy to spend time with me. I let her go, because she wasn’t forced to be with me all the time and I didn’t played like the other kids and I understood that. But I felt so broken. Even after that I expected that one day she would come back and I tried to. I had some friends during that time, short lived, only one was very close that was the queer guy everyone else bullied. I pretended to be his “girlfriend” sometimes, but we were really friends. Then he was put in other section so we could barely see each other and we started to have other friends, but still we kept in some touch and I didn’t felt the same trauma and rejection than with my other friend.

Then, in sixth grade of school I found my real and first girls friend group, they were all new girls that came from other schools for different life situations. They were trying to make me forget about thar friend (we never kept contact but for years, I still tried to befriend her again and again) until that moment I knew that she didn’t deserved me. My self steem was so low and I still clung to her so badly even if she barely talked to me, and I didn’t cared that she didn’t cared how I felt. My new friends made me see that, so I ended being loyal to them because they were the ones that actually cared for me and accepted me completely. They were the ones that supported me with my ants and tamagotchi. I think that was the best year of my childhood.

High school was ok I guess. At least I knew by that time that trying to be someone I wasn’t was not going to work, and that I could wait until I found my people. So I went alone to the high school library every day to read and play board games alone. I had some friend groups before them but didn’t worked, and they told me that I couldn’t hang up with them anymore. Just because I didn’t wanted to do some performance in class. Then, I met my new friends group there, in the next year, at the library. They were from another year, so I could only see them in breaks and after classes. But, it was ok, better than being alone 100% of the time.

I don’t use this blog for much personal stuff, but here I talk about autism sometimes so I figured that from my other blogs here is where it fits most :).

People underestimate how much it fucks you up to be subtly excluded as a kid. I would try to talk to my classmates and be met with disinterest or annoyance. The one friend I had, who I clung to and nodded along to his every word, had other friends he liked just as much or more. And his other friends didn’t care for me at all.

I look back at pictures from the time and see how separated I was from them. I remember knowing I was different. I remember posing questions about the world to the girls playing next to me and realizing that they had never asked the same ones to themselves. That the ways we thought couldn’t be more different.

I kept myself amused with my own fanatical stories and musings in my head. I would wander the playground on a circular path, imagining a friend and being sorely disappointed when it didn’t feel as real as I’d hoped.

There was a bubble separating me from everyone else, thin, and nearly invisible, but with a pearly sheen you could catch under the right conditions. I knew it was there, they knew it was there, and it changed me

[running-with-kn1ves]

Your Private Dancer

A/N: Everybody say thank you Tina Turner; man I really am just a mixture of everything I’ve seen and heard. 

CW: Dancing for money, sex work/ prostitution mentioned, using money as manipulation, Reader wears makeup n' heels lmao

Synopsis: You work at the downtown peep show dancing for quarters, trying to get out of the rough patch you’ve fallen into. Seemingly, a man out of your usual customer regulars has business with you.

Tonight, a habitual fear bobbed its way inside your head, just as it had the night before. The idea of your boss’s beige, neatly ironed trousers becoming ever-so visible from under the slowly rising black curtains was making an appearance, his aged face slick with sweat, with desire behind the see-through plastic shield.

Again, the same scene but with a distant friend on the other side of the decaying plastic that separated you from your… clients. They’d be popping in the coins you worked for-- mere quarters, often giving you barely enough to buy a drink for the night.

This line of work could be greedy, could sap all energy and self-worth you had-- but for some, it had led to better lives; ones where they could purchase groceries for their kids or nice handbags if they decided to skimp out on dinner that week. 

Never you, though. How long has it been since you started working at the peep show, two months? You barely made enough to cover rent, and that was primarily paid for by your office job handling phones and directing clients to your bulging boss’s office. 

Taking a swig of some bottom shelf vodka you so sneakily hid into a mug, you drank the thoughts away, waiting patiently for the electric blue lights to come on. If you had any less self respect, you’d dare to sit on the yellow tile beneath your studded heels, legs aching from standing ten til’ two waiting for some man or another off the street to feed your coin box something of substance. You prayed for whoever came next-- if anyone-- they wouldn’t try to shove another piece of gum or arcade coin in as a cheap ploy. You thought they did it more to fuck with you and get a free show than a true lack of being able to pay for their lust. 

On the brink of lighting an unused cigarette left next to your mug, the lights of your five-by-five room soon became illuminated by the cobalt blue lights of the client room across from you. Velvet curtains rose to show a pair of black slacks, left knee impatiently bouncing. The blue never bathed the entirety of your small room; it was just an illusion for the paying customer, making everything in front of them turn an electric shade that used to burn your eyes; now, you wished you were doused in that blue, instead of witnessing the yellow stains on the walls beside the see-through window, the dirty circles formed on the green walls from put-out cigarette butts. 

The curtains rose to his neck, and you knew it was time to start dancing. You were by no means a professional-- hell, you never moved this much unless it was in this room. But you were pretty good at making yourself consumable, as if the men on the other side could have you-- could taste the way your hips gyrated and how you grabbed at your chest, stroking and fondling yourself in a desperate attempt to keep the money coming. For some of those who worked the peep show, it was liberating; no man could touch them, and they could rake in all the money they’d need. For you-- it was just a step above demeaning yourself to being touched.

You started slow-- sensual. He was looking at you, of course-- but he hadn’t even gotten his pants down yet. You rarely get these kinds of men, the ones who just liked to stare, maybe smoke a cigarette and put the rest of their quarters in their pockets to leave with a frown of boredom.

You let your hands rise from your hips, gracefully dancing up your stomach, to your chest. You circle around your shapes of hard and soft, letting each curve flow beneath your fingers as if it were his hands touching you. 

You hadn’t gotten a good look at the man, watching him from the corner of your blurry eyes as he brought a hand to his mouth. He stroked his jaw before bringing the cigarette between his fingers to his lips. He scrutinized, a small line creasing under his eye as his gaze traveled the intimate way you swayed your hips. 

He occasionally took a drink from an engraved scotch glass saved for VIP members, those who made monthly payments in cash that the owner hoarded in his liquor cabinet. Not many paid such a hefty price unless they routinely took clients or coworkers here-- and even then, the existence of powerful businessmen in such a grimy part of the city like this, with a less than clean business-- was so rare you were suspicious. 

But your suspicions were buried as soon as he left your dancing cell, your mind quick to focus on electric bills and the next few nights of eating dry pasta and watching bad reality TV, slaving away at the office and more early mornings at the peep show. It almost didn’t surprise you to see him at your dance room again a few days later-- until he started showing up multiple times a week. Like clockwork at 11:02, he was sitting across from you with a cigarette or an indulgent glass. Sometimes, he’d merely watch. You had a few regulars, but none like him… not ‘this’ regular.

Even with keeping your eyes glued on your own reflection, you’d catch the dark blacks of his own trained on you, his face bathed in blue and zoned in on your expression. He never unbuttoned his pants, never lingered his eyes on one area for too long, even if he scanned you up and down with a sultriness.

You couldn’t deny that you felt like you needed to impress him, to make him react or find a reason to keep seeing you; he was allowing you to afford paying rent, putting coins in to last for a 30-minute session before he’d disappear into the night. But you never spoke to him, never had any kind of interaction besides that unspoken ritual. 

Another month at the peep show passed, and you found yourself fixing up your makeup in the vanity, trying desperately to get a thick layer of eyeliner right. A thick knock rapped against the dressing room door, a foreign sound; none of the workers knocked, finding no reason to. Your boss stuck his head through the gap, his receding hairline shiny and his thin silver chain looking  dull from the overhead light. For such a sleaze, he was kinder than most when it came to treating his employees fairly. Maybe because he was keen on avoiding complaints and federal eyes. 

“Got a visitor for ya.” He chewed a thick wad of gum, talking in a voice lower than you had ever heard him speak in. “This one’s a big fish, alright? Don’t do anything to piss him off-- he’s the reason you’re getting such a good payout tonight.”

Payout? You didn’t get paid in anything other than quarters once the night ended, unless someone was looking for further services of which you were not interested in providing. 

Your boss leaves the door open a crack, his mumbles traveling in as he spoke to someone outside. The door was knocked on again, but no one came in.

“It’s open.” You say, a little thrown off by the way your voice cracks a pitch higher. 

The door opens fully, closing behind the stranger as he moves forward. You look in the mirror to see him, but are forced to turn around to believe your eyes. 

“It’s you.” 

You look at him-- nice suit, pressed and finely tailored, with even a small handkerchief in its breast pocket.

His hair isn't dark like you had imagined under the blue light, but rather a gold brown, deep and cool-toned. For being so young, he had deep creases below his eyes, as if he had been worried since birth.

“I’ve paid for your shift tonight. “ He stares at you, direct but with some underlying, concerned thought. “Your manager says there’s a room upstairs, where we can be alone-- privately.”

You’re disgusted by the mention of anything above the underground cells you’ve danced in, recalling the thin walls of faked moans and foul dialogue you’d tried to avoid. 

“I’m not a prostitute,” You say brusquely, watching the stoicism on his expression falter. “You can have your money back, I don’t want it if that’s what you’re expecting.”

“I’m not.” He says, sounding a bit off guard and adjusting his tie almost habitually. “I want.. To talk, If you can believe that,” His hard gaze shifts to minute worry, as if this wasn’t how he expected it to go. “This isn’t… I want to help.”

You’re more so puzzled than offended now, staring at the pool of his ink-like eyes, no traceable ounce of debauchery behind them. If you said no, it almost seems like he wouldn’t care less, besides for another crease layered under his eye. 

“What for?” You question, guarded and fiddling with your absurdly short low-rise shorts; the discomfort was part of the appeal, supposedly. 

“I have a proposition for you-- a deal. You don’t have to accept it, of course. Just listen to what I have to say.” 

He lifts his eyebrows, trying to gauge your reaction, your potential interest. You continue to squint at him, realizing now you were near past the start of your shift; You were losing money as you sat here. 

“Maybe this will convince you; I already let your manager know not to bother us.”

 Like a true businessman, he rummages through the inner pockets of his suit in an attempt to find something hidden. Finally reaching into the left side he pulls out a thin, blank envelope. 

With two hands, he brings the envelope towards you with unnecessary formality, and you waste no time taking it. Besides overdue bills and unpaid bank statements, you rarely opened any other kind of unmarked envelope.

It wasn’t even closed when you tried to open it, the top un-licked and sticky. You looked inside, not needing to take out the content to understand what was in it. Several fifties were lined against each other, scarce in their numbers but large in what they equaled together. 

“What… is this for?” The shock you gave with your agape mouth almost made him grin a bit, fascinated. He rarely felt pleasure in the wide-eyed stare his clients would give him at the same sight, but you weren’t them. Oh no, you were far from them. 

“Just a talk. I can pay you more afterwards.”

Your gut senses danger-- perhaps he took pleasure in luring unsuspecting victims from low places with money, killing them for sport. But, he looked too clean-- too unmotivated.

You should say no, should turn away and finish putting on your makeup and tell him you aren’t looking for a pimp. 

You pocket the money, crumpling the envelope and putting it on your vanity. 

“I don’t do anything under the clothes; I can give you a lap dance at most and that’s it.”

You lead the man out of the dressing room, not bothering to close the door. 

He leads the way upstairs, watching the grimy pictures decorating the walls with feigned interest, some in black and white, others grainy and full of half-naked women. You kind of wish you had led the way now; atleast then you wouldn’t feel like you’re following an omen to your doom, farther deep into the velvet hallway.

“My name is Dakota.” He utters, quiet and firm. 

You brush past him, getting in front to open the door at the beginning of the hall. “What, no last name?”

 You still wonder if you should turn back, even if it means losing your job. But you persevere, holding a dramatic hand towards the now opened room as if you were a doorman.

“I imagine you aren’t interested in my last name,” He stops to take a short view of the client room before settling his eyes back on you. “And regardless, I’d much rather know yours.”

You open your mouth to speak, but are quick to be cut off as he walks past you into the creaky, red-pink room.

“I know you won’t tell me, a part of the show-room code, or so I’m told. but it doesn’t matter; I already know.” 

He reads your mind again as you barely get a moment to protest.

“I’m accustomed to going through unnatural ways to find the information that I need, but don’t bother asking for why or how, I won’t tell you.”

Your body tenses as you shut the door behind you, the red lowlights of the bedroom making your heart pound just a little louder.

“You can’t just say something like that and not expect me to want to know-- it's my privacy damn it,” You’ve forfeited any sexy walking as you come closer. “If you’re some kind of creepy stalker--”

“I guess I could be labeled as that.” Dakota slumps to sit on the edge of the bed, sinking into the dipping mattress. He almost relaxes, shoulders drooping along with his eyes, uncharacteristically so.

“I’ve come here to offer you a chance for safety,” He loosens his tie, watching as you stand there, tensing your back and one step directed toward the door. 

Dakota wasn’t blind to your hesitation, your unease. But you were wrong to think he’d let you go just because of a little fear; you had a lot to learn about him.

You watch him look at you, waiting expectantly for him to go on. But he doesn’t and you realize he’s waiting for you to start-- to do something of which he paid copious amounts of cash for. So, you do what you do best, and what you feel safest doing, where no man can touch or stroke you.

It’s not as extravagant of a dance as when you’re in the coin-operated cell, but it's intimate enough. 

You keep your eyes to the floor, only looking up at Dakota to egg him on, letting your feet drift you in a rhythm. He looks entranced for a moment, offering a stare that was far from innocent-- but not as hungrily disturbing as you had expected. 

“Your co-workers won’t be given the same option, this is an opportunity directed at and intended only for you.” You come closer, small struts as Dakota completely unties his tie. “I’ve got a variety of apartments across the city, most of which are rented out or used as a small place to come back to when I've got business farther out. And no-- I won’t tell you what kind of business I do.” 

You almost grunt in frustration, keeping your eyes on him. 

You’re nearly toe to toe with him now, watching from above as he puts his hands back on the bed. 

“One of these apartments is not too far from here,” He squints his eyes, deliberating. “A few blocks away, I'd say.” 

Your hands slow as you drop them to the front of your hips, Dakota’s eyes following them. 

“It can be yours. If you’d like.” 

“What?”

You stop, dropping your arms and watching the pink glow from under the bed cast a shadow up to Dakota’s cheeks.

“Some people call this kind of an arrangement “sugar babying” but that’s a bit too crude for my tastes.” His eyes are still traveling from your wrist to your forearm. “You’ll be on an allowance, of course. But it means you won’t have to work here anymore.”

The way he said ‘here’, it was clear what he thought of it.

“You can quit that desk job too; or keep it, if you want. But I can’t imagine it being much fun. Either way, you won’t be working here anymore. Not with the kind of men who are looking at you while I’m away.”  

Dakota’s gaze finally met your own, his tired hand coming up to stroke his curved jaw. 

“You’re not actually being serious, are you? This is some kind of sick joke?” You let out a short laugh, lacking in humor. 

Even with him dressed to the nines in a suit that no creature who stepped foot in this place could afford, you wouldn’t allow yourself to believe it. You shake your head in ridiculousness, taking a step back.

“Sorry, I have other customers to attend to; I can’t be dealing with this shit right now.” 

You turn to walk away, feeling less safe than you ever had; if he was delusional, or some kind of sick sadist who thought he could buy your life-- he had another thing coming.

“Hold on,” Dakota grabs at your fingers, almost desperate in his grasp. His eyes were void of anything other than concern. “I’ve booked you for the whole night, I don’t recall asking for you to leave.”

Booked? You were under the impression you just received a little extra bonus from this stranger. Just how much were your manager’s morals worth? Did he care AT ALL what he might’ve ‘sold’ you for?

Dakota held on, even with you hesitantly shuffling back to where you stood. 

“You don’t have to accept what I’m offering-- just consider it,” He stays seated, bringing your hand palm-up towards him. “Though, I’ve been told I'm quite persuasive.”

“Look man, whatever you’re selling, I'm not buying. I’ll have you know I’m perfectly content with my job, and I’m not looking for some kind of ‘savior’ if that’s what you’re trying to be.”

You could feel your own lie cutting deep into you, and by the looks of it Dakota didn’t believe it either. He looked at you, a kind of benign glare leaving from his oaky eyes. 

“Call me by my name.” He says, barely above a whisper.

“...Huh?” 

“I’m not just some ‘man’. Call me by my name.”

Dakota ran his thumb down your palm to your middle finger, keeping your hand hostage between both of his own. He looked to you, then back down to his grasped treasure. He looked like he didn’t really know what to do with it, but that it was something intimate he didn’t want to let go of. 

“Wha--okay fine. Dakota. This isn’t some kind of game,” The name felt weird coming out of your mouth, but watching who it belonged to’s reaction was even stranger. 

He shivered. Physically shivered at the guttural hearing of his name, of the consonants and vowels sliding off your tongue. 

Dakota looked down, avoiding your gaze as he memorized each line and indent in your fingers. You wanted to pull your hand away, to recoil in disgust and fling him off like some kind of bug. But in a way, he looked small sitting there, head down and entranced at the details of your fingers, the ridges of your palms, the shaking pulling at his shoulders as he asked you to say his name again. 

“Dakota.” You mutter, wondering if this was some kind of kink.

With the way he stopped a groan midway from slipping, you were sure you weren’t too far off. But whatever he was into, now was not the time for discovery.

“This is, just ridiculous. Were you listening to me, at all?” You tilt your head, trying to catch his eyes to see if you could see what the hell he was so captivated by.

His thumb pressed hard against your palm, short nail digging just slightly to leave a crescent shape. 

Without the response, you were starting to get fed up. You pulled your hand away, sliding smoothly out of his warm, dry grasp. 

At this, his head shot up, watching you with a kind of look as if he had come from out of a panicked daze.

“I’ve wondered what my name would sound like from your mouth-- I could never hear anything from the other side of the glass.” 

“...Right.” You aren’t sure if you should still be worried, but his fascination with you made you feel a little concerned. 

Dakota propped himself up again, seemingly realizing his recent lack of finesse. 

“Take my business card.” He seemed to say all of a sudden, searching blindly in his inner-jacket pockets like he did to give you your payment for the night. He seemed a little scattered, padding up and down to look for his cards before finding one in his breast pocket. “Here.”

You grab it, finally getting an inkling of answers to who he was besides the money and his name. 

Unfortunately for you, the card didn’t offer much else from what you already knew. There was his name in ink-black font, ‘DAKOTA--VERIDIAN FIRMS’ and a small phone number, barely readable beneath. 

“That’s my personal number. Day or night, don’t hesitate to call. I’ll answer.” He looks at you with an inappropriate level of intensity.

“Okay.” 

“Now that that’s squared away--” He sighs, relaxing backwards again, watching you hold the business card. “We can return to business as usual;” He keeps his eyes on yours, displaying a kind of tension and expectation. “I believe you were dancing, and I was enjoying your company.” 

You can’t imagine spending the rest of your shift solely dancing for one man, in this dreary far-too cold room that had seen too much. You don’t move, not ready for the rest of tonight to continue.

Dakota brings out another small envelope, this time with ease. Looking at it expectantly, he then looks back to you. 

You began to move your shoulders to the rhythm of the thumping music from downstairs, using it as a way to distract your thoughts. Dakota puts the envelope on the bed, letting out a sigh as he voyeured in novelty, watching you gaze at the heart-shaped headboard behind him. 

You tried to keep your thoughts empty, but it was near impossible. How much could you be bought for, and how much more would it take for you to agree to be his? 

[taelortot]

Choso Smau Part 11

Pre relationship texts + immediately after texts

Not proofread :(

Total time knowing choso: 12 months

Thick air surrounds y/n, choking her— suffocating her lungs as she tries to even her breathing. She stares at her phone in her hands, rereading the text that stands out in bold black letters.

“I love you, bunny”

It’s almost as if she can hear him saying it with his low, warm voice. Choso voice was always the most satisfying to listen to. Velvety smooth, like a fresh pot of dark roast coffee first thing in the morning.

“Bunny I love you”

Oh, that was most definitely not y/ns imagination. Y/ns eyes snap up, hands shaking and chest heaving. Dropping her phone to her bed, she stands on unsteady legs, unsure if her best friend knows what those words mean. Unsure is Choso really understand what that will mean for them.

“Baby… please just open the door”

A faint squeak comes from y/ns lips, quickly being covered up with her hands. This isn’t real. It can’t be. In y/ns mind, she was hopelessly in love with her best friend, and he didn’t feel the same way. So she told him to go on a date, so maybe if he had another person to care for… she could move on. And he would never ever have to know.

But, of course not. Things never work out the way y/n wishes they would. Almost as if she has no control over the course her life will follow, just as she has no control over the way her feet move on their own. Closer and closer to the door that separates the two best friends.

“O-okay”

Voice trembling as she reaches out to unlock the deadbolt— a lock choso could have easily broken to get inside of he really wanted to.

“Choso” y/ns hand stills on the cool metal, resting her forehead against the wooden door frame. Choso rattles the door knob, hoping to push his way in. “Tell me you mean it” y/n begs, her voice desperate, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. So close to spilling over.

“I mean it, bunny. I fu-fuck I mean it baby… cmon baby. Open the door for me”

‘Baby’ y/n mouths, a small smile on her lips. Relishing in the way that one little word made her feel. Somehow the word making her melt from the inside out. An eruptions of butterflies swarming deep in her tummy, wanting to burst out of her chest. It was so out of character for Choso to say that word. She was always bunny.. and now she’s wondering what possessed him to call her that pretty name.

“Okay” y/n nods, unlocking the deadbolt. As soon as Choso hears the click, he’s pushing the door open, not meaning to use as much force as he had. Just feeling so desperate to see y/n, to explain to her these feelings he has.

“Bunny”

“Cho”

No more words. Just staring at each other in the barely lit room, as if time has stopped. Heart pounding so loud choso is sure y/n can hear it. Shit— he was sure she could see the way it was practically beating out of his chest, rattling around his rib cage as if it bursting out of his chest was the only way she’d believe his words.

Thud

Thud

Thud

“Cho-“ “shhh.. ju-just” the large man steps closer, closing the small gap between them. His callused hands reaching out, gently cupping y/ns face. Thumbs caressing her rose tinted cheeks with a tenderness neither knew he possessed.

Dark brown eyes searching, looking for any sign that she wants him to stop as he moves closer. Eyes darting between y/ns and her pretty lips. The lips he’s been dying to feel against his for over a month now. Y/ns eyes fluttering closed is enough of a sign for Choso to take. So he does.

It’s so pathetic— the noise that escapes chosos throat as he pushes his slightly chapped lips against y/ns perfectly smooth lips. Not caring that they taste a little salty from the popcorn she was eating just moments ago. Y/ns bottom lip slotted perfectly between both of his. One hand moving from her face to the back of her head, fingers carding through her soft hair—not leaving any room to move away. Never getting away from him, not after this.

The feeling is so hard to describe. Choso doesn’t understand how something so simple can feel so good and mean so much. Y/ns hands bunch up in Chosos white tee, pulling him closer. Needing to feel him everywhere, needing him to be as close as possible as their lips work together like they’re meant to be doing this.

So perfectly in sync, moving at a rhythm that was soft and sweet. Y/n so pliant in Chosos hands as he kicks the door closed with a slam, and nudging her back, deeper into the small room.

“Cho” y/n whimpers in her delicate voice that Choso loves so much, breaking the kiss, but not moving back. Pupils blown wide, breath heavy and the smallest smile gave it all away. Choso didn’t need to hear what y/n was going to say, he already knew just from the way she was looking at him. And he wasn’t so sure why it took him so long to realize that she always looked at him like this.

“I love you too Cho”

But it still felt good to hear out loud.

“Who told you to call me baby?” Y/n giggles as Choso tucked a tendril of hair behind her ear like this is some sort of romance movie.

“Gojo says that’s how he gets all the girls to fall for him”

Guess Gojo was right for once.

I am not a good writer.. but I’m trying :( I used to write a lot and was pretty decent, so im just getting back in the groove.

Yall! I got this emo boy to start calling me bunny and now I’m living my Wattpad fantasy lol

ALSO!!! I love to write psycho stalker obsessed type stuff.. so who do you think would be like that from jjk??? And I’ll write it :)

Taglist: @vellichor01 @loveyislost @ersharyzst @koreluvsspring @gradmacoco @emlient @namjooningera

[toomanyfish2]

FAV BKDK FIC RECS

split into short, medium, and long fics. under the break.

short fics

You're Mine? - Chapter 1 - s_the_queen - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

'Katsuki Bakugou and Izuku Midoriya endured a long and troubled road to get to where they are now. Maybe that's why they haven't noticed that they're dating even though everyone else has!'

Chapters: 7/24 | Words: 8,560

So, They're Dating, Right? - igniteloveignite - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

All the times everyone thought Katsuki and Izuku were dating, and the one time Katsuki realized he wished they were.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 5,022

Didn't I do it for you? - theburningbread - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Deku has never been close with members of the Bakusquad, despite the squad’s best efforts. They were getting there as Bakugou and Deku’s friendship grew… but that friendship has been over for years. Mina wants to understand why they never got to be as close as she knew they could have been, so she asks. But, since she wants her friends to know as well she secretly calls Bakugou so he can hear too.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 15,430 | Angst w/ happy ending

all that you ever wanted from me was sweet nothing - Chapter 1 - maxisnotokay - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku has had this thing about him that Katsuki has never been able to name, but he's been chasing it since he learned how to run. It takes a catastrophic building collapse during their third year and a severe concussion for him to realize what it is. Aizawa loses ten years off his life. When does he not.

Chapters: 3/3 | Words: 11,549

warm hands - Chapter 1 - flowercafe - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

A 5+1 featuring copious amounts of massaging, a dollop of mutual pining, many ridiculous competitions, Izuku’s achy joints, and one very tactile Katsuki.

Chapters: 4/5 | Words: 20,005

glowing skins and pleading fingers - mimisyum - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

In which Katsuki spent fourteen years resisting the urge to touch Izuku until it all becomes too much and he gives in. But maybe, just maybe, things don't go quite as badly as he expects.

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 10,600

and the rest is rust and stardust - youreanovelidea - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Kirishima likes to think that he knows his classmates pretty well. But sometimes, he looks at Bakugou and Midoriya and wonders if he even knows them at all. He wonders if anyone does. (or, Kirishima notices the moments hidden between childhood friends, offers encouraging words, and maybe kisses Kaminari in the process)

Chapters: 1/1 | Words: 8,587 | Side Kaminari/Kirishima

medium fics

i accidentally texted king explosion murder - Chapter 1 - tsundokushi - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku: Do you really think partnering with a copy of yourself will be good for the world? Vulgar Stranger: I. Don’t. Do. Partners. Izuku: Why thank you for sparing everyone the headache Vulgar Stranger: Since when are you fucking sassy Izuku: Wanna guess? Vulgar Stranger: Fuck u Izuku: :)

Chapters: 13/13 | Words: 64,439

An Extension Of Myself - Chapter 1 - igniteloveignite - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku got One for All but went to Shiketsu instead and ends up working at the same hero agency as one very confused, very turned-on Bakugou Katsuki.

Chapters: 14/14 | Words: 81,028

Dark Side of the Sun - Chapter 1 - Synnie - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Staying up too late playing video games, Kirishima wasn't expecting to get an urgent call begging for help. Next thing he knew, he was letting his classmate Izuku Midoriya take refuge in his apartment - without consulting his always angry roommate.

Chapters: 20/20 | Words: 51,598 | AU - College/Uni

Immovable - Chapter 1 - asdfjkl129 - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Bakugou and Midoriya get trapped under a building together. As Midoriya struggles to keep them both alive, refusing to give even an inch, Bakugou realizes some crucial things and refuses to leave without Midoriya by his side.

Chapters: 3/3 | Words: 76,094

long fics

promises kept - gabstar - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia (Anime & Manga) [Archive of Our Own]

'after barely surviving the war, katsuki swears to do right by izuku. no matter what it takes.'

Chapters: 10/10 | Words: 125,657

Kamikaze - Chapter 1 - Katsukimchi - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

'After being injured in a villain fight, Katsuki needs someone to take care of him. The only problem is - the Bakusquad is sick of his inability to accept help. So they send in the only person who's ever been able to tolerate Katsuki at his worst: Midoriya Izuku.'

Chapters: 37/37 | Words: 197,482

Before Midnight - Chapter 1 - DriftingGlass - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku Midoriya takes the same train to and from school Monday through Friday, morning and night. His only company during these lonesome hours comes in the form of another boy his age—a teen with scarred hands and blood gem eyes, a stranger with ash-blond hair who walks in a shroud of danger and mystery. "Would you stop with that fucking muttering, idiot?"

Chapters: 28/28 | Words: 211,528 | AU - Organised Crime

Hummingbird Heartbeat - Chapter 1 - Tokiji - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

“The knife went through his fucking chest, Kirishima.” Katsuki spat his name into his face, mouth twisting into a vicious snarl, teeth and all. “You know that's where his heart is, right? And his fucking lungs? All the vital shit?” Kirishima blanched. “I-I know, I just meant—” “What, you mean to tell me that your stupid fuckin’ ass is so ignorant to forget that he lost a shit ton of blood, hah?! Yeah, it was a flippin’ knife wound, oh hoo-ray, but look at the nerd now! He’s fucking dying because of it!”

Chapters: 28/? | Words: 136,922 | Angst w/ happy ending

Disillusioned - Chapter 1 - Rain_Whistler - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

After learning how some people are treated in a quirk-based society and how little anyone is willing to help. Katsuki makes it his mission to save his first and only friend.

Chapters: 37/? | Words: 182,789 | Quirkless Midoriya Izuku

Tell Me When You're Drowning - Chapter 1 - ThyNameNotSpoken - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

Izuku is in the Support Course, perfectly happy having given up his dream of being a Hero long ago. It’s just not possible for him with the nature of his quirk. As long as he continues to manage his quirk, life should be easy sailing. . . right? The teachers of UA think otherwise and become particularly concerned when he and Hatsume help in a training course. All his life, Izuku has kept moving foward. It's how he survived. But if he wants to keep moving forward, he will have to finally face his past

Chapters: 34/34 | Words: 226,705 | Support Course Deku

From The Sidelines - Chapter 1 - suffocatingspring - 僕のヒーローアカデミア | Boku no Hero Academia | My Hero Academia [Archive of Our Own]

When long-time enemies, Bakugo Katsuki--the all-star athlete and rascal of Ise--and Izuku Midoriya, the town sweetheart, are paired together for a long-term project, the quiet beachside town of Ise suddenly gets a bit louder. In which, Katsuki is an asshole pole vaulter, Izuku is going to fail psychology, and both are about to have the most intense spring semester yet.

Chapters: 14/14 | Words: 404,533 | AU - Highschool

[softtdaisy]

injury prompt 16 and 22 for reid perhaps... :D Love your writing btw <3

make my heart beat again / spencer reid

summary. spencer was sad. spencer was miserable. he thought he could handle it until he couldn't anymore. he thought he could deal with it alone until he couldn't.

words count. 2 249

prompt. “Why won’t you let me help you?” “…because I don’t deserve it.” / “You deserve to be helped, I—who told you this?” from here

what to expect. very angsty, spencer is so sad i want to hug him, i chose the mentally injured more than physically, mention of murder very quickly

a/n. ok first thank you so much for requesting it sweetie!! and i'm sorry, i wish i posted it sooner but i started it again to make it shorter and...it's not shorter, but it's here and i hope you will love it (and now i can work on your other request) 🫶

F1 masterlist | general masterlist | request

You weren’t quite sure how everything started again with Spencer.

One day he was a memory of the past, one of your biggest regrets. The next time he was back in your place, like he always belonged there.

You went on a couple of dates a few years ago, and it would be a lie to say your heart didn’t fall for that boy. Sweet, gentle, the nicest man you’ve ever met. And so beautiful with his always so messy hair, his gorgeous brown eyes that always seemed to look at you like you were one of the seven wonders of the world, and that perfectly shaped mouth that you loved to kiss.

You were sure things could have worked out with Spencer if a) his work didn’t take him that much time—and more. b) You didn’t have other issues in your life you had to deal with before thinking about love.

So you ended your relationship, or whatever it was at that time, before it could be more serious. And you spent way too many nights missing Spencer Reid. 

The way he would start every date with a fact that could either last a minute or ten and how you could notice the change in his eyes when he noticed you were truly interested in what he was saying. How he was blushing at any physical contact you were initiating, even in bed after he made love to you. Or even how you never said you loved each other, yet the way his lips would stay longer on your shoulder when you were falling asleep was speaking for your feelings.

You never thought Spencer would miss you just as much.

But he spent months contemplating the idea of seeing you again and trying to convince you this could be good. That he could be good for you. But months turned into a year. And when he celebrated his whole single year on the other side of the country, Spencer read into it that maybe he had glorified love. In all its aspects.

And this conclusion haunted him for years.

To the point Spencer stopped meeting new people and was barely trying to stay in touch with those in his life. He wasn’t seeing his mom much; his colleagues noticed the distance he was building between them, and Spencer couldn’t remember the last time he saw his “friends.”

Because at some point, the fear of losing people turned into a feeling of not being good enough to people’s lives and made him a loner. A sad loner.

That was something you immediately noticed the first time you saw Spencer in years.

Your life has barely changed from your last date. Still the same job, but at a higher place. Still the same apartment, but with a different setting. Still the same person, but more mature.

It wasn’t hard for Spencer to find you. And if he spent a whole year contemplating going back to your place before putting that thought away, the day he truly needed it, it took him a minute to decide it was time.

You didn’t question his presence here when you opened the door. Maybe he should have. But when Spencer grabbed your face after you simply said his name with confusion, nothing seemed to matter. 

Not his hair longer than before, not him looking more shaped yet more fragile, not the circle under his eyes being way darker than the last time you saw him. Not that he was eagerly kissing you, something he never did.

You remember Spencer being gentle, taking his time to appreciate every second with you.

No, he was hungry, like each second could be the last with you. For him.

“What are you doing here, Spence?” you finally asked him. You were both lying on the rug in your living room. His eyes were locked on the roof, like he was disconnecting from reality. His arm around your back, holding you against him, was brushing your skin slowly, but he seemed to do that mindlessly. 

And Spencer didn’t turn his head to look at you when you, you couldn’t stop looking at him. “I needed that.” Not you. You put away the pain hearing that and tried to see the good in this, that you were the one he went to. 

But still, something was different with Spencer.

It would take you a few nights to realize he wasn’t blushing anymore when you touched him. Or that he didn’t seem to have a lot to talk about.

Actually, Spencer wasn’t talking much anymore. 

For weeks, Spencer would come to your place at night. Either after a day at the office or when he came back from a case. Usually, when it was the latter, he would even stay the following day to fully decompress from what happened.

You tried to question him once or twice. But Spencer always had the same answer: going down on you to keep you quiet with your question.

It was a win-win situation. 

He was giving you pleasure and making you think about something else.

He was concentrating on something else, and your moans were filling his head with other thoughts.

Until one night, the sex wasn’t enough to put his problem away.

You didn’t expect Spencer to come. Two days ago, he told you he had to leave for a case and it would probably last a week. Nothing out of the ordinary. But it gave you the time to think about him and where this was going.

Yet, your bell rang at 10 p.m. Let’s say that dating an FBI agent taught you to not open your door to anybody. You almost played dead and ignored it. But your gut told you to look at who it might be. 

You didn’t expect to see Spencer through your spyhole.

You certainly didn’t expect to see him cry on the other side of your door.

“Spencer, what’s going on?” you said, opening your door and immediately bringing him inside. The saddest part was that he let you do it. He didn’t stop you when you took him in your arms. Neither when you brought him to the sofa and sat him on it while you kneeled in front of him.

He was shaking; his face looked red from the tears and the scratching he did with his fingers, trying to take the pain away. But it didn’t work. And hurt him even more.

You grabbed one of his hands to take it away from his face. You tried to ease his joints with a soft caress. You even tried to make eye contact, but it was a lost cause with the way he was closing his eyes hardly, probably hurting himself like that. “Talk to me, Spence,” you whispered, putting your chin on his knee. “Open to me.”

You hated how he pinched his lips together before talking, like he was trying so hard to not break down. “I can’t,” he sobbed. He repeated that multiple times, sounding more angry with himself each time.

But the fact he wasn’t letting go of your hand made you believe that maybe a part of him, maybe just a very little one, wanted to have you. He still came to you tonight, right?

“Why won’t you let me help you?” 

This was a genuine question. One that grew over the last weeks. Sometimes, you would wake up in the middle of the night wondering which signs you might have missed when he was here. What did he try to hide from you with kisses and attention that you weren’t asking for? And if maybe you weren’t an accomplice of his troubles by accepting all his treats, knowing it was an excuse to keep everything from himself.

And during these moments, you imagined what Spencer might have answered. That he didn’t want his burden to impact your relationship, that he didn’t want to talk to you specifically. 

But you never considered what was coming as an answer.

“…because I don’t deserve it.” 

The world went silent. 

Except for your heart that just fell on the floor and broke into a million pieces.

Except for Spencer’s sorrow being louder than ever in your small living room.

It was obvious that Spencer wasn’t doing ok. But you couldn’t imagine how broken he really was.

You couldn’t force him to look at you and make him see he wasn’t alone at all. So you put your forehead against his, his sweaty hair sticking against your skin. Your arms wrapped against Spencer so you could hold him against him. You couldn’t believe that this grown-up man, in his thirty, could be a broken kid inside. You tried to hold back the tears.

You stayed like that for minutes; you don’t even know how long. This could last an hour or two if he needed to. You probably could have stayed all night if it meant calming Spencer down.

Little by little, you felt his shaking stop and even one of his hands land on your arm. The pressure of his fingers on your skin wasn’t harder, almost like he didn’t have any strength anymore. It was more like a delicate touch. One that reminded you of the old days, when Spencer was too shy to touch you.

Once you felt he was ready to hear this, maybe not listen yet but at least be able to understand what you were saying, you stopped hugging him so you could grab his face in your hands. “You deserve to be helped. I—who told you this?”

You met the saddest eyes you’ve ever seen at this moment. Couple with his sad smile. Oh, how you wished you could just kiss the pain away for once.

“I just…” he started, with a grazed, hoarse voice. “Every person in my life ends up sad or hurt or dead. I’m a problem. I’m a burden. I don’t deserve someone to take the time to help me, be there for me. I can’t risk someone, you, taking the time to make me feel better if it means losing you at some point. I can’t, I can’t do that again.” You heard the sob in his voice at the end. 

You opened your mouth to speak, but Spencer gave you the look, one he strangely never gave to you but that you understood immediately, meaning that he still had a lot to say. And deep down, you were happy to shut it if it meant he was finally opening up.

“I was taking care of a kid these days. We knew he might be in danger, so I was supposed to make sure he would be fine while working the case.” Spencer took a moment to continue, but you could only focus on the tear running down his cheek. “He got killed. Because I couldn’t protect him. Everyone around me has something bad happening to them. Even in my job. How can I be such a bad person?” 

You started brushing away the tears with your thumb, but Spencer cuddled against your hand. There was something even sadder with this man feeling like he didn’t deserve to have someone yet still craving every attention he could get.

“You’re not a burden, Spencer,” you whispered, and he closed his eyes again. “I can’t imagine how hard it must be for you to go through all these moments by yourself. I can’t imagine how hurt you must be from living such difficult times over and over again. But that doesn’t mean you don’t deserve to have someone by your side.”

He didn’t answer. You weren’t sure this was the best decision, but you sat on his knees, trying to be closer to him so you could make him feel less alone. 

You thought that if he didn’t want that, he would push you away. But the way Spencer's hands ended up on your back so quickly made you think that maybe he needed that too.

“I can’t and won’t force myself into your life, Spencer, never,” you said, brushing his hair away from his face. “But if you’re ready to try, I can be by your side and help you consider that you deserve to be a supporter. Not only by me but by all the people that love you.”

Again, your words working on him, Spencer opened his eyes slowly. This time, even if the sorrow was still present, there was the smallest and almost slightest light in them. “Because people love you, Spencer Reid.”

As an answer, the only one he could give you, Spencer brought you against him and hugged you as hard as he could. It wasn’t the tightest hug he ever gave, but it was the best he could do. And it was enough. Enough to know that you opened a door in his mind. 

You offered your bed to Spencer that night, but he insisted on you staying by your side. He refused to let you know it was due to the fear of the nightmares he had for months now. Nightmares that always had different stories but ended the same way: with him losing someone and being alone.

All he needed was you, and you were willing to give yourself entirely to help him get better.

You didn’t know if you imagined it, but you were sure that when he was falling asleep, holding you against him like an antistress comforter, Spencer thanked you.

[bennysmiller]

I love your writing! Would you consider writing a short fic where you’re one of Santi’s friends and he sets you up on a blind date with Frankie? Bonus points for Frankie being kind of shy and adorable

Blind Date - Frankie Morales x Reader

Thank you so much for your request!! I really hope this is okay 🩷

I have a friend. He’s single. You’re single. You’re both recently out of long-term relationships. You can awkwardly return to the dating scene together. But seriously, I think you’ll like each other. How does that sound?

You laughed when Santi sent you that text. But two weeks later, you were pacing anxiously in your kitchen waiting for your cab to arrive. You’d partly agreed to the date to shut Santi up, because you knew he’d complain about your complaining if he’d offered you a way out of the single life and you’d refused, without even giving him a chance. Finding a good man was difficult, so it was worth trying, right?

The cab ride to the restaurant was painful, to say the least. You couldn’t help but question if you were doing the right thing, but Santi was one of the few people you actually trusted, and he wouldn’t have set the date up if he didn’t think you’d actually get along.

Five minutes. This Frankie guy was five minutes late. You tapped your fingers on the table, trying to distract yourself from the fact that he maybe got cold feet himself. But out of the corner of your eye, you see a little bit of commotion near the entrance of the restaurant.

A man has a bouquet of roses in one hand, and the other was messing with the soft curls on top of his head. He looked as thought he’d ran all the way there. He was frantically looking around and trying to catch his breath, while also explaining to the wait staff who he was there for.

Someone’s in trouble, you think to yourself. And then it hits you. Man who looks like he’s supposed to be on a date, also looks like he has turned up late to said date?

Then you hear your name. And a few curse words that he muttered under his breath in embarrassment. You look up, and it’s him.

“Shit. I’m so sorry. I couldn’t get off work. Then I realised I’d forgotten to get you flowers. I hope you like roses.” He said, as you stood up to greet him.

“Frankie? You’re fine. I mean, not fine as in handsome, just fine as in ‘you don’t need to apologise for being late’. Actually, you’re fine as in handsome too, but-“

Disaster. Two seconds in and it was a disaster.

He hands you the flowers and you thank Frankie, before gesturing for him to take a seat in front of you.

“Let’s start over, huh Frankie? We both screwed up there.” You say as you settle at the table.

“Sure, I could take a redo at that”, he laughs and he blushes a little when you laugh back.

You just looked so beautiful. Frankie wished Santi had warned him about that.

The rest of the date went better than either of you could have ever imagined. The chemistry was just as Santi had promised in his myriad of texts to you about it. He knew. He always knew. And you needed to thank him for this one.

Frankie was so pleased with himself, he had you laughing all night. Even in his truck, on the way home. The radio was on, the windows were down, and the conversation was flowing so effortlessly. It was a movie scene straight from a movie that the two of you had no idea was only the first part of many.

“I’d love to see you again,” said Frankie, as he admired the way you looked in the glow of your porch light. “If you feel the same, of course”.

“I feel the same, don’t you worry about that.” You smiled at him and kissed his cheek, which took the poor man by surprise. “Goodnight, Frankie”.

The look you gave him over your shoulder as you opened your front door would be thought about until you graced him with your presence a second time.

[honest-moth-of-silver-grove]

I can totally see alucard needing to constantly scare off men and maybe even some women from trying to pursue the malena siren maiden.

It wouldn't surprise me if he wasn't the only person obsessed with her in village Belmont. How do you think he would sort of show everyone that she's off limits or already taken by him? (although I doubt that would stop the other obsessed pursuer)

and in another train of thought do you think that Trevor and sypha would believe that the siren has alucard under her thrall and that their relationship isn't real and it's just her using her siren power to use him and if so would they try to "save" him from her? That would certainly be a interesting way to introduce the characters to each other 🫣😬🤣

A/N: Oooh, two very good questions!  (For all entries in this series, click here for the tag ‘yandere alucard siren reader’.)

‘The Landwalker’ has a natural hypnotic aura about her. She cannot help it, her species are designed to be alluring, whether she wishes to attract attention or not. Similarly, vampires (and dhampirs, like Alucard) are also profoundly captivating, so too to lure in their prey. 

Thus, Alucard and The Landwalker are at a standstill/equals of sorts when it comes to hypnosis— neither one can supernaturally influence the other. However, just because they are immune to each other’s influence and entrancing natures, the humans of Village Belmont are not. 

Even when The Landwalker has no intentions of charming the folks around her, many weak-willed men, and even some women, find themselves revering her. Even with the uncanny nature of her appearance and the clumsy pronunciation of her speech, The Landwalker finds herself surrounded by many admirers when she socializes amongst the people. 

Such veneration suits her just fine. Personally, she sees nothing wrong with being waited on hand and foot. After all, she is a superior species to the lowly common human. What’s wrong with allowing a select few to do her bidding? 

Alucard on the other hand, finds the concept quite maddening. 

How dare she accept the attention and affection of these other men, these simple-minded human villagers when she has him, the superior, transcendental choice?! 

Alucard puts a stop to it nearly right away. 

He starts with her- taking away various privileges and luxuries she may have grown accustomed to dwelling within the walls of his castle. The third week in a row without a saltwater soak has her finally changing her tune. 

The Landwalker does try, truly she does. But even without using her abilities of hypnosis, and constant shooing away of the men and women who leer, folks still find themselves vying/competing for her attention. 

So The Alucard decides to switch targets, instead focusing his threatening gaze and suggestive words to the human men who can’t seem to stop trailing his beloved like pathetic lost puppies. He talks to them and tells them of her more nasty, inhuman habits. He speaks casually as if blood-drinking and scale-shedding are akin to making small talk about the weather. For those who are not frightened by such details, he decides a physical display of ownership would work best. 

Alucard insists on having matching rings made for him and her. Hell, he goes even further and has a blacksmith make a special diamond encrusted choker-type necklace for his beloved. The silver metal compliments her palor complexion well, and the blood-red rubies within the elegant collar of hers are enough to give more zealous villagers pause. 

Ironically, these possessive actions on Alucard’s part are the same things that give his friends Sypha and Trevor pause. Could it be that perhaps this siren has him under her spell? Despite knowing the dhampir for only a short time, neither Sypha nor Trevor ever imagined that marriage, and ostentatious displays of affection, would ever take place in Alucard’s future. He was much too quiet, too introverted, and withdrawn for that. 

This leads to a particularly malicious confrontation between the siren and the dhampir’s friends. While decorating the nursery for Trevor’s and Sypha’s incoming child, Alucard cannot help but comment aloud how he looks forward to creating his progeny with the 'The Landwalker’ one day. Upon hearing his words, our siren friend ceases her movements and turns at him to bear her sharp teeth. 

“No bahby,” She hisses out before releasing a throaty growl. 

This spurns Sypha and Trevor to take action. 

Sypha immediately lights her hands aflame, while Trevor reaches for his whip. 

It takes their combined efforts, both Alucard and our Siren to convince his friends that neither one of them is under the other’s spell. 

Trevor is the first to realize the actual dynamic at play here, when he hears Alucard’s explanation of their relationship. 

“It’s mutually beneficial,” Alucard assures them. “Besides, it’s not like she has elsewhere to go. Why if either of you met her first on the road, I have no doubt you’d incinerate her before she could open her lips.” 

Trevor may be a monster hunter of the supernatural variety, but his lot in life has also taught him to recognize an asshole when he sees one. 

Trevor tells Sypha to stand down, signaling to her that they’ll discuss more later. 

Surprisingly, this tense encounter only makes Trevor and Sypha closer friends of The Landwalker. Sypha appreciates having someone to discuss magic with, and Trevor appreciates her shared knowledge of monsters of the oceanic world. 

More irksomely however, is where this new dynamic leaves Alucard, which is slightly more edged out compared to before. It only works to cement in his mind his need to continue to show ownership over the siren, lest she, or anyone else for that matter, start to get other ideas. 

A/N 2.0: My apologies for the delays in posting recently. I’ve just been so exhausted from work/life/bs that I’ve had no energy to write, even on the days I’ve managed to find time. It’s been frustrating staying away from what makes me happy for so long. :/ Unfortunately, us adults gotta be adulting sometimes. 

As always, if you enjoyed reading this work, please Like but more importantly, please REBLOG. 

(For those of you who may have just joined us from TikTok, please note that this website functions on REBLOGS, not Likes. So those are always preferred as far as us content creators on here are concerned.)

Like my work? Wanna show your appreciation? Feel free to Buy Me A Coffee <3. 

[spectoo]

tuna mayo ! miya osamu

chapter four – props to you, sakusa

wc 4050 (sorry, this chapter is little long!)

MDNI.

if you'd like to join the taglist , please fill out this form !

13:50.

“Alright, everybody! Thank you for coming to the lecture today, and if you have any questions, please feel free to ask me or any of the TA’s.”

With that being said, everybody in your communications lecture got up and began to either walk towards the professor with curiosity roaming throughout, or pack up and leave. You never really had much trouble with classes, as you were an outstanding student, but to be honest, school wasn’t the only thing on your mind.

You couldn’t stop thinking about Miya Osamu.

Well, more specifically, you couldn’t stop thinking about the food he had made for you. Yes, he himself was running through your mind, but the food was more important. It was seriously some of the best you’ve had. It had been six days since you were at Onigiri Miya, and quite frankly, you’ve been itching to go back.

As you walked out of the building you were in, you were debating if you should go get lunch there. You had work in about an hour and a half, yet, there were numerous thoughts roaming throughout your head.

‘Would it be weird if I went without Atsumu? Or just in general? But, I did tell Miya I was gonna be back eventually…’

The frustration got to you, and in response, you let out a small huff while beginning the short walk to your car. You did want to go back to Onigiri Miya to try other rice ball flavors, but you didn’t want to make things awkward. Would Atsumu be okay with the fact that you found his twin brother attractive?

‘Probably not.’

You reached in your pocket to pull out your car keys, as your car was in full view. If you did want to go to Onigiri Miya, who could you possibly go with? More accurately, who would be the best option to go with?

You didn’t want to take any of your personal friends with you, as you didn’t want them to catch on to the fact that you’re interested in someone new. You opened your car door, and quickly situated yourself.

slam!

You began to scroll through your contacts on your phone to decide who you should take with you.

‘Atsumu, no. Hinata… no. Inunaki? Out of the question. Bokuto, hell no. He has a big mouth.’ Finally your eyes landed on the perfect person to text.

You were surprised at the fact that Sakusa had agreed to come with you, let alone the fact that he was okay with being in the same car as you. You knew he wasn’t a big fan of being pretty close to other individuals, but a win is a win.

You were glad that you became acquaintances with him. He wasn’t the type of guy to really get involved in other people's business, and this was a good opportunity to possibly become actual friends with him.

You put your car in drive, and left campus while setting directions to Sakusa’s apartment, with new thoughts about what you should order when you arrive at Onigiri Miya.

𐙚 OSAMU

As mentioned before, it had been six days since you were last at his store. He had been wondering when you were going to come back.

He was currently sitting in his office at Onigiri Miya, and was filling out some order forms. Rush hour had recently ended, and he was glad he was able to take a short ‘break.’ His three scheduled employees were currently cleaning some areas of the kitchen.

A part of him wished he had asked for your number so he was able to know if you were even going to come back, but then again, you both only met once. And plus, Atsumu considered you to be one of his closest friends. The last time Osamu had expressed to Atsumu that he thought one of his female friends was somewhat attractive, a small, verbal fight had broken out.

Please note that this was back in highschool, too.

Yes, years had gone by, and they’ve both grown into (somewhat) mature adults, but Atsumu was still unpredictable.

‘He probably wants her for himself.’ Osamu scoffed. ‘Selfish pig.’

𐙚 YOU

14:16.

“I’m outside.” You spoke as you put your car in park. You had arrived at Sakusa's apartment complex, which was rather luxurious.

“I’ll be down in a second.” A deep voice responded back through the speakers of your car.

“Okay, bye.” You ended the call.

As you laid back in your seat, you decided to observe the scenery around you. His apartment complex was truly gorgeous. There was a lot of greenery, yet it was all neatly planted. You looked to your left, and saw the volleyball player walking towards your car in his usual outfit – some black gym shoes, black joggers, a black hoodie, and a black mask.

‘He wasn’t even lying when he said he’d be down in a second…’ You thought to yourself as you unlocked the car. 

As he opened the door, he immediately sat down, and quickly settled himself.

You bowed your head as a greeting. Shortly after bowing, you began to nod your head, as you were very impressed with him. “Props to you, Sakusa. You’re very punctual with your timing.”

He pulled down his mask, and bowed back to you. “Thank you, [L/N].” 

You quickly put in the navigation for Onigiri Miya, and began the drive.

“So, how’s your day been?” You ask, trying to start a conversation.

“It was okay. How about you? You had classes today, correct?” He responded neutrally.

You smiled. You remember mentioning your school schedule to Sakusa, yet he didn’t seem to be fully interested as you were telling him. “Correct. My day was great, but I got assigned a project for one of my elective classes. It’s okay though, it was expected."

He let out a small ‘hm' before going on his phone and scrolling. You quickly glanced at him, and focused back on the road, while gently tapping your finger on the steering wheel. ‘So much for communication.’

14:25.

There was about five minutes left of the drive, and you and Sakusa haven’t really spoken a word since your failed conversation, yet, you considered the both of you to be sitting in comfortable silence. ‘Popular’ by The Weeknd was currently playing, and the volume was at the perfect amount. You were internally jamming out, but was interrupted.

“[L/N].”

You look over at the curly haired man sitting beside you, and turn the volume down a bit.

“What’s up?” You ask, turning your head back, and keeping your eyes on the road in front of you.

“Have you been to Onigiri Miya before? Or is this your first time?” 

You were a bit taken back by this, even though it was pretty unserious. “Uh, yeah. I tried it for the first time about a week ago.”

A small silence… “I went with Atsumu and Hinata.” You continued, in a less confident manner.

“Ah.” Sakusa looked out his window, and you thought that was the end of the conversation. Yet, he spoke once more, turning back to you. “So, you met Osamu? What did you think of him?”

Your heart dropped. Logically speaking, you shouldn’t even be concerned in this first place, but why was he asking question, after question? You decided to stay quiet for as long as you possibly could, while thinking of a proper answer. A couple seconds have gone by at this point, and Sakusa was still staring at you, expecting an answer.

You quickly turn your head towards him, with a still face, and turn back. “Um, you know… Miya seems like a nice guy.” Your eyes quickly move to the ETA on your carplay. ‘2 minutes…’ With that being said, you pressed the gas pedal with a little more pressure to speed up. You didn’t know where this conversation was going, which made you a bit tense.

Sakusa seemed to notice this, and nodded his head, deciding to stop talking.

‘What was that even about? Like? ... Oh, I have to turn here.’

You make a right turn, and enter the plaza where Onigiri Miya is located. It’s all starting to seem familiar to you. You decide to park in the same spot you were in last time, and after you turn off your car, both you and Sakusa get out simultaneously. He quickly pulled his mask up, and the both of you walked to the door.

You opened the door for him, and went in behind him. Immediately after entering, you’re both greeted by one of the female employees at the store.

“Hello, welcome in!” she spoke as she bowed to the both of you.

You both nodded back. You and Sakusa walked closer to the counter, and the first thing you noticed was that Osamu wasn’t in your sight at all. You were immediately disappointed, yet didn’t think much of it. As you look up at the menu, you hear Sakusa speak.

“Could you tell Miya to come to the front?”

The disappointment you felt earlier was gone at once.

“No problem.” 

You briefly look at the worker, and see her walking to the back, most presumably to his office.

‘Round two, Miya.’ You smirked.

𐙚 OSAMU

knock knock!

“Boss, Sakusa is here with someone else, and he asked for you!”

Osamu immediately looked up from his paperwork, and put his pen down. ‘No shot.’ He thought as he got up, and straightened out his clothes.

He opened the door that leads out of his office, and to the kitchen. He could feel some anxious feelings being brought up within himself, but paid no mind. “Thank you, Ito. Could you go help prepare some fillings?”

“Yes.” She slightly bowed, and walked away.

Osamu began walking towards the front. He saw Sakusa first, staring back at him. And… It was you. A little bit distant from Sakusa, and looking at the menu.

“Hey, Sakusa.” Osamu turned to look at you, to already see you staring back at him. “Hello, [L/N]. I was wonderin’ when you were gonna show up again.” He said as he put his hand on his hips, while internally cursing himself out. He was trying to act nonchalant, but his true feelings got the best of him.

You responded with a chuckle. “Hey, Miya. I would’ve showed up sooner, but school got the best of me.”

As you and Osamu began a new conversation about what you would potentially be ordering this time, nothing between the both of you went unnoticed by Sakusa. Yes, he was quiet sometimes, but he was still observant. He noticed how you had that little smile plastered upon your face while talking with Osamu. He also noticed how Osamu’s cheeks began to flush a very light pink color, which Sakusa has never seen him do before.

“Helloooo, earth to Sakusa? Are you there?” He immediately snaps out of his daze to see you waving your hand at a safe distance in front of his face. “Hello.”

“Ya want the usual, ‘Omi?” Osamu began tapping some buttons on his register, before Sakusa could respond. Yet, nothing was wrong with this as the curly haired man began to nod his head.

“Uh, also, put [L/N]’s order on the same bill as mine.” He quickly spoke, putting his hands in his pocket.

You raised an eyebrow, and turned to Sakusa. “Oh? Why?”

“You picked me up, and drove me here.”

You stayed silent for a second, truly wondering if he was being serious. Yet, you internally grinned. This was your opportunity to drop the ‘friend’ bomb on him.

“Um… we’re friends. I don’t mind having to drive you to places.” Nailed it.

He sighed, and pulled his mask down. “I suppose. I’ll still pay, though.”

You shrugged, and internally came up with the solution to just pay for him the next time you both get food together. “Okay… um… I think I’ll do two bonito flake rice balls, and three tenmusu.”

“What? No vigorous amount today?” Osamu responded back, tapping more buttons on his screen.

“I actually can’t. My stomach began to hurt after I got back to my apartment last time.”

“What did ya expect? Ya had fifteen onigiri.” He grinned as he put both of his hands on the counter in front of him.

“Excuse me, [L/N]? You had fifteen?” Sakusa looked absolutely disgusted.

You didn’t even know what to say. You pursed your lips together and looked away. After a couple of seconds of silence between the three of you, you spoke up, and pointed to a table in the corner. “I’m going to sit there.” And with that being said you, walked away.

“Alright, ‘Omi. Yer total is ¥2,500. Ya doin card?”

Sakusa nodded his head, and handed Osamu his card. “By the way, could you, uh, make my onigiri to go?”

Osamu briefly looked up at the man in front of him, and looked back down to the card reader. “Yer not eatin’ with [L/N]?”

“I am, it’s just in case.”

Osamu let out a small “hm,” and handed Sakusa his card back. “Should be out in a couple minutes.”

With that, Sakusa walked to the table you were at, and took a seat across from you. You put your phone down, and the both of you begin to have a small conversation about relations to MSBY.

14:38.

“Order up.”

You and Sakusa both look at Osamu, holding a ceramic plate with one hand, and a plastic bag with the other. Sakusa gets up and bows to him, then grabs both from him without any issue. 

“Whose bag is that?” You ask while pointing at it.

“Oh…” Sakusa puts your plate on the table, yet doesn’t sit back down. “It’s mine. My um– Meian texted me and asked me to come early to practice. So I got my food to go.”

You stare at him with a bewildered look on your face. “Meian texted you?” You tried confirming. You don’t remember him going on his phone since you both walked into the store, and you know that Meian would not be the one to text him, it would be Coach Foster.

“Yeah… so I’ll be leaving.”

You slowly nod your head. He didn’t sound too confident with his answers, and at this point, you knew he was making this up. “Okay, no problem. But how are you gonna get there? I drove you, ya’ know.”

Sakusa averted his eyes from you, and to the window behind, and almost immediately, a red Lexus EX, with tinted windows, halted directly in front of the store. As you heard the tires screeching, you turned around to get a quick look, and before you knew it, Sakusa bolted out of Onigiri Miya, and almost instantly, got into the car.

You watched with so much confusion as the car sped away, wondering where everything within this situation went wrong. Soon enough, you could hear footsteps getting closer to you, yet you continued to look out the window.

“Did Sakusa just leave ya by yerself?” A deep voice spoke. You didn’t even have to look at the person to know who it was.

“Yeah, it was really weird. I’ve never seen him leave abruptly like that.” You can feel Osamu’s eyes on you, and as you turn around to look at him, you’re met with a view of his sculpted chest, yet, at a safe distance. The shirt he was wearing wasn’t even covering the outline of his upper body. 

You internally thanked God for this view, although eventually realized that you were quite literally just staring at his chest. You quickly shift your eyes to his face, only to be met with a smirk, which causes the tips of your ears to turn red. ‘Fuck.’ Is the only word appropriate enough to react with, because how else would you respond to this situation?

“Would ya like me to make yer onigiri to go? I doubt you’d wanna stay here by yerself.” Osamu asked, crossing his arms and keeping that smug look on his face.

You thought to yourself for a moment, and realized that this was your chance to learn more about him. And probably throw in a little flirting.

You put your right elbow on the table, and put your cheek in the palm of your hand, still keeping eye contact with Osamu. “Y’know, I would say yes, but I did come here for a reason.”

“Oh? Care ta’ elaborate?” 

You mentally shrieked like a teenage girl. You loved where this was going. “What fun would there be if I did, Miya?”

𐙚 OSAMU

‘Is this actually happening?’

You coming to Osamu’s store was already the highlight of his day, but this conversation the two of you are having? He can’t handle it. Just imagine how he feels – he’s been wanting to see you for almost a week, and his wish has been fulfilled. Even with more added to it!

Then, almost instantly, he had the best idea. ‘Should I do… it?’ He wondered. He didn’t want to come off as weird, but he thought of a way to continue this conversation, and see more of your face while working.

He let out a brief huff, and grabbed your plate with the five uneaten rice balls on it. 

“My food.” You whined, just loud enough for him to hear. He thought that was cute.

He then sets your dish at the counter that overlooks the kitchen, which could give whoever sits there a clear view of him and his employees, making the food.

He looks back at you, and motions for you to come and sit there. “I’ll keep ya company while ya eat.”

‘Was that slick enough?’ He asked himself, feeling unsure, but when he sees you pick up your necessities, and start walking to him, he can’t help but feel like he’s won the lottery.

𐙚 YOU

As you get closer, you watch the handsome man as he pulls out a specific chair for you, and you gladly take a seat. Then after, he pushes you in, and goes behind the counter, preparing to make more rice balls for his display case.

“Do you treat all your customers like this?” You asked, finally picking up one of your onigiri, and taking a bite out of it.

Osamu is directly in front of you, and as you’re chewing, your eyesight falls to his hands, looking through the glass, and watching the way he is sculpting the rice.

‘So he’s good with his hands, huh?’

“Eh, just the pretty ones.”

You immediately look back up at him, to see him already staring at you. You swallowed, and spoke. “Acting confident, are we?”

He chuckled, and began to wrap the onigiri he had just completed. “I’m just tellin’ it how I see it.”

You rolled your eyes while smiling, and took another bite of your food. “Thank you.”

Osamu briefly walked away to put the onigiri on display, which gave you some time to observe him, but from behind. You realized he had an upside down triangle body shape, which you found incredibly attractive. Your eyes then moved to his butt, and you cursed yourself in your head. ‘Why can’t mine be as big as his?’

“Oi, [L/N]. Ya checkin’ me out?” His voice startled you, causing you to instantly look anywhere else but him.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You denied. He could see right through you. He knew you were staring at him, and truth to be told, he didn’t mind at all.

You move your eyes back to his face, and sigh, before taking another bite out of your onigiri.

“Whatever ya say.” He began to work on the next onigiri, and once more, you looked at the way his hands stuffed the rice with filling.

15:08.

Time had gone by since you were seated at the counter, and you were nearing the end of your little trip to Onigiri Miya. You had already finished all five of your onigiri towards the beginning of your conversation with him, but stayed to talk. You ended up learning more about him, and he learned about you. 

He told you that he was from the Hyogo prefecture, and he grew up with no other siblings besides Atsumu. He had also mentioned that he went to Inarizaki, and played volleyball as a kid, up until highschool. He was a wing spiker, and he was damn good at what he did. When it came down to you, you told him where you grew up, and how many siblings you have in contrast to him. You brought up the fact that you had played a couple of different sports when you were a kid, but didn’t have the passion to really continue as you grew older.

As the both of you were laughing at a joke you had made, you looked down at your phone, and saw the time. You had to leave for work now if you didn’t want to be late and risk getting lectured by one of your supervisors.

You sighed as you stood up, and handed Osamu your plate.

“Ya gotta go?” He asked, taking it from you, and putting it in the sink.

“Yeah, unfortunately I have work at 15:30.” 

He wanted to tell you something along the lines of ‘Who cares about your job? Just skip work and stay here with me!,’ but obviously, he couldn’t. Instead, he said with a thin lined smile, “Well, ya gotta do whatcha’ gotta do.”

You nodded as you stood up, and grabbed your necessities, shoving them in your pockets. You look at Osamu, and bow. “Thanks for keeping me company, Miya. You didn’t have to.”

He began to wave one of his hands in a dismissive way. “Ya don’t have to bow, [L/N]. In all honesty, I wanted to continue talking to ya. Yer a lighthearted person, and ya can’t find much of that nowadays.”

Your eyes literally twinkled at that compliment. “I appreciate that. For all that It’s worth, thanks for not being unamusing.” And with one final bow, you began to make your way to the door.

Your heart began to pound, due to the fact that you were proud of yourself. Proud of yourself for not acting awkward, and for having a good time with a ten out of ten. Before you could reach the door handle, said ten out of ten called out to you.

“Wait, [L/N].” You turned around to already see him walking to you, phone in his hand. You waited until he got close enough to you, and when he did, you both stood there, staring at each other. It seemed like he wanted to say something, but was hesitating.

Therefore, you took initiative. “Are you okay?” you asked, raising an eyebrow. Then, almost instantly, he held out his phone, with the contact app already opened.

“Can I have yer number?”

You swore you almost fainted.

“U-uh, yeah! Sure.” You quickly muttered out, trying to hide the blush that was present on your face.

You also grabbed your phone and opened the contact app, ultimately, switching phones with each other.

𐙚 Bonus

14:39.

After Ongiri Miya was out of distance, Sakusa groaned, and looked at the individual who was driving the red Lexus. “Why do you drive like a maniac?”

“Nevermind that! Do you think she’s going to end up staying?”

Sakusa turned his head to look out the passenger window, and stayed silent for a couple of seconds, thinking about a proper answer. “In truth, I believe she’s going to stay. They seemed to take a liking to one another.”

A satisfied hum was used as a response by the driver, and after a few moments of tranquility between the two, Sakusa spoke once more.

“I don’t understand why you’re getting involved in a non-existent romantic relationship that isn’t yours, Hinata.”

The ginger rolled his eyes, and focused back on the road. “It might be non-existent now, Sakusa, but I get the vibe that they’re eventually going to end up together.” His mood lightened up, and he began to grin.

“Why not help kickstart her future relationship?"

authors notes !

𐙚 sorry that this chapter was long ! i kinda just word vomitted , and stuck with it .

𐙚 reblogs are always appreciated !

𐙚 i hope you enjoyed this chapter , my beloved reader-chan ! <3

taglist: @reuka1 @enepsigosthelast @arwawawa2 @miruac

[uselessmoonlight]

Stranger finale

Reader is Telemachus' friend, and when he leaves for his "diplomatic mission" he asks her to watch over his mother. Later, once the king has returned, she stumbles upon an injured Poseidon.

Previous / series masterlist / character sheet

Content specs: she/her pronouns used, afab reader, Platonic! Telemachus x reader, Epic!Poseidon x reader, possible OOC!Poseidon, Polites’ daughter! Reader, unrequited love, blood, fighting, nudity, illusion, possibly more?, trying to avoid using y/n, slowburn, suggestive themes.

��Love? Do you not think that’s too strong of a word?” Ónoma questioned the man.

“I do not, in fact, I think it is not strong enough to describe what I feel for you. It is something I’ve never felt before, not even for Amphitrite when we were still married. The Gods do not feel as humans do, you are well aware of this, do not question my feelings for you again, they are carved into me like a river cuts through a mountain, like a ships cuts through the waves.” The sincerity and seriousness of his voice stunned her.

He had been serious with her before, but it had not been this pressing. She’d not meant to hold her breath an inhaled deeply when she realized. She searched his eyes for any insincerity, but came up with nothing. “Show me.” Was all she replied.

“What?” Five.

“You said you were in disguise, I wish to see you, the real you, so that we may bury all lies told.” She held his gaze as she spoke. A smirk graced his face as he took her face in his hands.

“I thought you wanted me to show my love, not that I’m complaining about this, but I think that would have been way more fun. Though, I suppose this request is way more you.” He winked at her, caressed her cheek, then took a step back. “Whatever you wish, my lady.”

If he was ethereal before, he was something else entirely now. His hair was longer, flowing like waves, but his frame was broader. He seemed to be as sharp as the earthquakes he caused, but as soft as the sea in rest at the same time.

“I accept.” She stated, seemingly out of nowhere. He raised an eyebrow at her.

“What do you accept? My proposition?” He asked, sounding almost giddy while trying to retain a cool exterior. Three.

Ónoma feigned a sigh and struggled to contain her smirk. “Your apology, I accept your apology.” She was having way too much fun riling him up. Poseidon noticed her expression and narrowed his eyes.

“Are you teasing me?”

“Maybe, I believe that’s two questions left.”

“You’re still keeping track of that, huh? Well then, if I have two left, what is the goal of your teasing?” Ónoma recognized the first question to be rhetorical, and allowed him that much.

She took a challenging step closer. The two now breathing the same air, chest to chest. She looked up at him through her lashes and ran a finger down his chest, stopping at the cloth that covered him. “I think you know.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“I want you to ruin me, completely.” She whispered. Her voice was soft, but her eyes were bold as she held his gaze. He grabbed her by the waist with one hand, the other holding the back of her head, and brought her impossibly closer. Just the smallest shift would have their lips touching.

“Oh, I intend to, but first, will you be mine?”

“Yes.” She breathed. As their lips finally touched, she felt him smile, and she followed suit.

A/N: Could this have been added to the previous part? Yes. Did I want to be evil and make you wait just a bit longer? Yes.

To the friends of the fic in the taglist, do you want to be added for the works mentioned in the poll in part 19? Please let me know and I hope you enjoyed this series. I might write some standalone fics about the future of Poseidon and Ónoma, I might not. For now, this is my goodbye to this storyline.

Taglist:

@apollos-dodgeball-target @barrythestrawberry041 @darling-eos @doodle-with-rhy @glaciuswduo @hardbarbarianfox @h0ne4bee @isla-finke-blog @keikeiluvyou @missam

@suckerforblondies @trashcannotbealive @visha1965

[postcardsfromheapside]

So I finished my DA2 replay, and I had wondered if I would feel differently after taking my time with it, and with the perspective of Veilguard. And yes, in small ways I do, but about the series and about Anders, I don't. That is to say: I think Veilguard is a fucking fantastic capper to the series (I mean, pray there is more, "hope for the best, expect the worst" as the Mel Brooks song goes), and Anders is relatably angry, even if the "betrayal" is frustrating and heart-breaking.

Also, there's just too much Dragon Age just the same way there's too much Tolkien, it's just that I can relisten to Tolkien via audiobook while I work and don't have time to constantly replay Dragon Age to absorb every little detail that my broken brain forgets (and I'm pretty good with lore) and I wish parts of this fandom were more curious than scathing about things they've obviously forgotten. Or skipped through, according to some of them, because I guess the context of dialogue and a cut scene isn't necessary for some of them to weigh in on things.

Word vomit of notes below the break:

First of all.

Can these two just fuck already. Watching Cassandra go from throwing him around to absolutely ENTHRALLED by Varric's complete bullshit is just going to make it so much better when I hit the "Guilty Pleasures" quest again in DA:I. This woman is SEDUCED by his story-telling, and you *cannot* convince me he wasn't gagging on his power trip.

Second.

I never played Mark of the Assassin before, and had completely forgotten Felicia Day was in DA2, and laughed like hell. I really enjoyed it. I haven't really used a stealth option in a game since leaving Skyrim for other stuff (do we ever really leave Skyrim?) and it was really fun, but I think the wyvern at the end of the DLC was actually the best fight in the entire game, even more than Corypheus. It hinted at the dragon battles to come in Veilguard. Also, I loved how Anders' dialogue got more relaxed outside of Kirkwall, like shedding the city let him loosen up. The back and forth with Hawke about his fantasy for being rescued was completely unhinged - after I accused Hawke of being feral and lacking social graces, I've decided the two of them match each other's freak and they're fine.

Third.

All the people who were losing their minds about the line "A crow never abandons a contract" and acting like the devs forgot Zevran.

He literally addresses it in the game. I keep having these moments where shit that people bitched about regarding Veilguard is addressed right *there.*

"The crows do like saying that, but I am living proof it's a lie."

No one actually forgot, but I'm sure the Dellamorte's wish to the Maker a motherfucker could.

When people complain the writing in Veilguard is too modern, I'm going to remember Hawke complaining exactly like this. She sounds like I do when I'm side-eyeing my friends in the year of our Maker 2025.

Fourth.

I had planned on romancing Blackwall this DA:I run, finally, because I'm a little obsessed with this Warden throughline from Anders to Blackwall to Davrin. From a cage, to hope/redemption, to a more meaningful path of positive change and impact.

They both haunt Veilguard's narrative and dialogue.

And then of course:

hrm.

Fifth.

I do hope we get another DA. Or supplementary material. Because I want to know what the fuck is going on with this story I had forgotten the details of, especially with the decision regarding the Nadas Dirthalen.

These two fucking idiots. I can't believe in different lives I've schtupped them both. (I can absolutely believe it)

Sixth.

The worst part of Meredith is she sounds like conservative family members of mine. 'Better to punish the innocent than risk even one guilty person go free', rather than the opposite. To them it sounds so reasonable. To us, it's abhorrent to punish everyone else for other people's crimes.

I couldn't bring myself to feel betrayed by Anders, even though I tried to play my Hawke as I think she would have felt: betrayed by the secret-keeping, if nothing else. The shock and hurt at the innocent lives. But it's hard not to feel an understanding when I sit here in a political situation with - maybe not less fraught, but at least less fantastical - implications and certainly still feel like violence is inevitable and we are way past the point of compromise and words.

Anyway.

This dwarf.

[crtakespropogandist]

CR 3 finale dump pt. 3 - Putting my finger on it

I enjoyed the campaign while I was watching it for the most part, because the cast's antics and chemistry always make me smile. But I invariably engaged the most during the tie-ins and cameos bringing back the PCs and NPCs from previous campaigns, and I couldn't summon the same investment for this one. I was ruminating on why that was, and here is what I came up with:

Campaign 3 didn't "work" like the other two because the characters, the plot, and the setting were not integrated. Matt had an epic storyline in mind that could dramatically change Exandria. He also had two lovingly designed settings, Marquet and Ruidus, the fruits of great collaborative labor that he wanted to show off. Finally, he wanted to let his friends have total control in conceptualizing their characters. The result is that the players and Matt seemed really afraid of stepping on each other's (and the other creatives') toes, and the narrative hurt for it.

Character hooks led away from the plot and setting. Setting hooks led away from the plot and characters. Plot hooks led away from the setting and characters. The cast ultimately had to follow the plot, leaving PCs uninvested and locations underutilized along with all their resident NPCs. Freaking Vox Machina had stronger relationships with Marquesian NPCs.

Yet Matt was still discouraged from taking time away from exploring new places and meeting new people for a deeper dive on Delilah Briarwood. Why didn't Ludinus give Tal'Dorei a heads up when the Briarwoods became fugitives? Did he help them in exchange for residuum? Did they steal his obsessive research on the Matron's ritual for Vecna to use? Maybe Jiana Hexum knows something abou...oop BH left Jrusar and forgot all about her. Matt was also discouraged from leaving shiny new Marquet any earlier for Aeor 2: Electric Boogaloo, which left FCG high and dry. The self-imposed balance between the three key story elements was impossible to maintain in a satisfactory way.

VM and M9 are native to their campaigns' respective continents (except my boy Tary ofc), and the plot evolved organically from personal stakes intrinsic to those settings. Moments like "I am no friend to the empire" and "It's Lady Vex'ahlia" are off the table when the party is Oops! All Transients. The worst irony is that Matt undermined the players' autonomy by unilaterally deciding that Caleb and Beau utterly fumbled the task Liam and Marisha set them to in their C2 epilogues. Liam's frustration at the Key scene was palpable. My fellow viewers who only hopped aboard on Campaign 3 can get weirdly defensive against C2's "encroachment" and C2 enjoyers (also fellows of mine) wishing it would "encroach" more. Ludinus was introduced in C2. The ruins of Aeor and Molaesmyr are in Wildmount. Dunamancy is centralized in Wildmount. The Nein spent time in Aeor, in Uthodurn, in the Dynasty. The Nein have gods. What experiments did Ludinus conduct in Vergessen? What are the specifics about what Ludinus did in Molaesmyr, what he's done throughout his life of scheming? It's pretty safe to guess that the Nein would have found out given another chance. Could you imagine how Campaign 2 might have panned out if Beau and Caleb reeeaaally grilled Demid Sunlash and followed up on where he went? (Also Ruidusborn!Essek would have made so much sense I'm vibrating) (Also also d'ya think Eadwulf was always supposed to be a real Matron follower, or could he have been set up as a Paragon's Call/Vanguard type reporting to Ludinus?)

The Mighty Nein are a party with a collective INT that blows BH out of the water. Even as someone introduced to the stream via BH, I can't help but agree with Beau's "Why not us?" comments. Why not give the Wildmount party the Wildmount BBEG? Why not give Bell's Hells the kind of story that encourages them to be little NPC-coded freaks pushing each other's big red buttons just to see what happens? Why not give Marquet a party that calls it home?

The answer is because we got this instead, and I'm kinda sad about it. If BH gets animated, that show is a lost cause if some fundamental changes aren't made.

[bellamoooon]

Childhood best friends to lovers, i love this concept a little too much and got carried away lol <33

She’d never know, at least that’s what he convinced himself of.

She’d never know that she was like a breath of fresh air after drowning for hours, that she was like the first bit of light rising up in the morning, that she was like the feeling of warmth when getting praised, that talking to her was like hearing his favorite song for the first time again, that her laugh was engraved in his brain and he could hear it even when she wasn’t around, that her presence radiated light that seeped right into his bones, that seeing her was like a shot of espresso immediately waking every nerve in his system, that her smile gleamed with such brightness it could light up the whole world in an eternal darkness, that her eyes said so much more than anything she had ever said, that she was a perfectly aligned harmony when everything else was out of tune.

She’d never know, but he did.

She lived within him; His whole life had been reduced to her.

“Wow Art, this is really good!” his literature teacher spoke as she read his paper, “y’know, if the whole tennis thing doesn’t work out, you could be the next big writer, I mean it.”

For his literature class, as a “creative exploration exercise”—his teacher calls it—they had been assigned to write a paper on someone of something which they could understand as unrequited love, of course he had chosen you, because what better example than you and Art.

You and Art have known each other since diapers due to your parents being best friends from their college days up to the present day, which sort of brought the two of you together one way or another, but you wouldn’t have it any other way, and neither would art.

Growing you with you might’ve been one of the best things he has ever been able to experience, he wishes people could actually get to feel what its like to be shined on by your light, for him, it truly is unearthly every time.

Sure, you two had distance shoved in your faces when he went to MRTA, but when he returned home for breaks, it was like nothing changed, it was just you and Art.

And of course as cliché as it may be, the inevitable happened, Art began to fall in love with you.

At first, he tried to convince himself that it was just the affection he had for his best friend, but he had no way to deny it. From the second he stopped just seeing you, but when he started seeing you.

He could try to blame it on his hormones and being a teenager, but everything else contradicted that.

In the summer, seeing you in your two-piece swimsuit didn’t seem the same, especially since you had started to grow into your big girl body, as his nana said.

At Christmas when he saw you walk into the living room dressed as Cindy Lou who from shoes to hair, with a goofy smile, but why did it make him blush? You seemed the same, you did this every year.

Patrick mocked him for having a small picture of the two of you in his wallet, but he didn’t care, whenever he was having a bad day, or missed home, he’d look at the picture, instantly erasing anything that disturbed his thoughts.

But you’d never know that. And he was okay with that. For the most part.

A couple of weeks he went back home for spring break, he was feeing at ease, he’d see his parents, his nana, and…you.

“Artie! My sweet boy!” his grandmother called out as he walked out of the car to the front porch with a suitcase in his hand, and a wide smile. His grandmother ran up to him wrapping her arms around him, her warmth immediately transferring to his skin, he was home.

“Nana, hey, how’ve you been?” he spoke with a sweet tone as he hugged her back. Sure, tennis was his whole life, but coming back home felt like a weight was lifted off his back, he doesn’t have to be THE Art Donaldson, he was just…Art.

“You look so tired baby boy, let me take your bags, go take a shower” his nana said as she shut the door behind her.

“Nana, seriously don’t worry—“

“Will you just let me take care of you while you’re here? You’ve gotta do all this yourself at school, but not here Artie” and well, there isn’t much arguing with nana Donaldson, it’s just how it’s been his whole life.

After his shower, Art walked in his room with a calm breath and loose muscles, how he needed that warm shower, as he walked over to his bag, which was placed next to the window he began to look for some clothes.

He wasn’t one to feel prying eyes on him but by reflex, Art lifted his head as he looked through the window, it was you.

You covered your mouth clearly giggling as he looked down at himself completely naked only covered by a towel wrapped around his waist, “fuck me” he muttered as he looked up once again but now face completely flushed and the tips of his ears burning red.

He waved awkwardly as he pulled the curtains closed feeling flustered, he wanted to get his mind off of her, so he said, how’s that going? Not great.

His nana looked up as he came downstairs with a puzzled expression, your name left his lips.

“What about her?” She asked as she left a plated grilled cheese in front of him.

“Why didn’t you tell me she was home for the break?” She laughed, why is she laughing?

“Sweetie, I thought it was obvious, she always come back home for breaks” she shook her head as she smiled playfully, “though, I think there’s something about her being here that bothers you”

“What— no, no, it doesn’t bother me, I just— would’ve expected something else, I don’t know”

“You sure?” She slid the paper across the counter with delicacy, “are you absolutely sure baby?”

“Nana! I told you to stop snooping, come on!” He said taking the paper as quickly as possible, could this day get any worse?

“One, I wasn’t snooping, it fell out of your backpack, and two, Artie, you know you can tell me anything, right?” He lowered his head ever so slightly as he grabbed the sandwich to then take a bite.

“I know.” He said once he swallowed, she leaned against the counter with curious eyes.

“She’s good, she’s smart, and really talented, did you hear she put out a song?” He lifted his brows in surprise, you really had picked music, over psychology, huh…

“Huh…well that’s great, I’m sure she’ll do great with all that” his nana scoffed as she muttered a small “art…” with a warning tone, “what? I mean it”

“You gotta give me more than that after that thing you wrote, Art, I taught you better than this.”

“I just—! I don’t know what to say, Nana, that’s the problem. Not to you, not to Patrick and most definitely not to her” he spilled, fiddling nervously with his hands, “I’d screw our friendship, one sided feelings aren’t worth risking years of trust.”

“Well you never know Artie, sometimes holding onto those feelings is painful, even if something is on the line, it isn’t worth it if you’re hurting” she was right, but Art would never say that out loud, this was all too much for him.

“It’s just…it’s not easy”

“Well my boy, no one said love was easy, and sometimes, just sometimes, the most complicated loves, are the most beautiful ones” he listened intently as he finished off the grilled cheese, she was right, maybe all he needed to do was tell her.

You had to know.

So there he was at 2:34 a.m throwing small pebbles at your window, just like he did years ago to then go the skate park at midnight and sit at the top of the ramps while you talked till sunrise.

“Stop throwing rocks Donaldson, you’ll wake the dog” you came out the door in pjs but wrapped in a jacket, he turned with a confused expression “I came running down when I felt the first two rocks” you laughed softly as you blushed slightly, God you missed this.

It’s like being kids all over again.

“So how’s tennis and all, Mr. Stanford?” You asked as you swung your hanging feet off the ramp.

“Y’know tennis is the same always, trust me, you don’t care” he laughed as he shook his head, “but Stanford is nice, just not the same without you and Patrick on my ass all the time”

“Ah, of course, because that’s the biggest change you’ve had since we were kids up to today” you rolled your eyes as you tucked a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Yeah…” he chuckled dryly as he looked away, could he be more obvious, goddamn.

“What?”

“No— no, it’s nothing” he insisted.

“Art I know you, it’s not nothing, what’s up?” You pushed as he looked up at the sky biting his lip while humming, “Art?”

“Hm?” He turned to look at you again, you lifted a brow silently asking once again, “ah…I— I love you” he blurted out unable to stop himself.

You opened your mouth but nothing came out.

“I have since the summer you turned fifteen, you just— you kinda started to seem different to me, and I— I fell in love with you.” He sighed, “and I know timing sucks and it’s gonna make things weird, but if I didn’t tell you, it would eat me alive, y’know it’s been so long—“ his rambling got cut off as your lips crashed onto his almost immediately.

His body tensed up completely, the feeling of your lips foreign to his, but so familiar at the same time, the reality was better than any dream he had ever managed to build up in his mind, your plump lips tasting faintly like cherry lip gloss, he was most likely dreaming, he thought, cause there is no way he had told you how he felt, and even less probabilities of him kissing you.

As you pulled away, he found himself instinctively following you with parted lips and eyes shut, he was so high with your mere presence, a soft giggle from you snapped him back to reality as his eyes opened up slowly, pupils blown, he looked as if he had just seen God.

“…Did you just—“

“Kiss you?” You ask slightly tilting your head with a giddy smile, “seems like it”

You shrugged as you snorted softly.

“Oh.” Oh was the only thing his brain could process for him to say still stunned.

“Okay— so you tell me you love me, but I kiss you and all you say is ‘oh’, I mean—“ you said as you licked your lips as you thought.

“I just— I didn’t think you’d— like…you…like…” he fumbled as he tried to pull a thought out of the back of his brain.

“Art, you’re telling me you didn’t expect me to kiss you, when I’ve literally had this…I’ve been in love with you since we were kids, and I’ve been as subtle as a marching band” you tell him as a blush creeps up your face while you chuckle nervously.

“You’re kidding, right?” You shake your head with a small grin, he scoffs as he covers his face with his hands, “am I just that dense?”

“Not dense, more like…oblivious” you laugh as he glares back playfully.

Then there’s beat of silence, that moment where suddenly everything had fallen into place, he’s been pining over you for years, and you’ve waited for the right moment for as long as you can remember, but then the question settles in, what now?

“Uhm…art…?” You turn to him with hesitation, he hums in response “what now? I mean, you’re going back to cali after break and I’m going back to New York…”

“Hm…I hadn’t really thought that far into it” he said softly turning to look at you with gentle eyes, “what now?” He asks back softly.

“I— I like you, Art, I’m in it for the long game.” You spoke honestly as you fiddled with your fingers.

“I’ll play the long game. You’re out there, I’m out there too, we’ll see each other in summer, thanksgiving, and Christmas…I mean it, I— don’t just like you.” He confessed as he chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously.

“I can do that” you said softly, smiling back at him, letting out a small breath, “long game…?”

Your hand cupped his cheek making him face you, he smiled as he nodded, looking down at your lips and back at your eyes “long game.” He muttered as he leaned in kissing you once again, holding you gently in a fear of breaking you.

That right there. That was it, you were the living proof of unrequited love for him.

[fortunekookie07]

More Than My Life

***************************

You knew with all your heart and soul that Caleb was the boy you weren't meant to spend your life with.

Having grown up with him on the same street, you'd spent your entire lives together. He was your best friend, your confidant, and the home for your heart.

Your parents had organized a party for your twentieth birthday, you knew something big was going down, Caleb's parents were in on it too, and while that was nothing usual, there was enormous excitement and anticipation the whole day.

Your grandparents were coming and his had been invited as well. So far, everything seemed normal. All the usual people had shown up for the party.

You just wished that Caleb was home to celebrate your birthday with you. He'd gotten recruited into the army as a fighter pilot. He'd always wanted to fly, and two years ago, he'd finally gotten his wings. Twenty-two years old and the youngest member of his team.

Right now, he was deployed on a mission somewhere and unable to spend the day with you. How you missed him dearly.

"Come on, sweetie, everyone is waiting downstairs for you." Your mom said, standing in the doorway of your bedroom. You got up and went over to hug her. "I miss Caleb, mom. I feel incomplete when he's not here." She smoothed your hair back and kissed your forehead. "I know you do, baby. Just take comfort in knowing that he's out there protecting you and everyone else." She squeezed you one more time and then patted your cheek.

Taking your hand, she leads you down the stairs and out the backdoor. "HAPPY BIRTHDAY!" They all shouted as someone popped a few of the poppers. Confetti was soon decorating the lawn.

Balloons and streamers were carefully placed everywhere in your favorite colors. Red and purple. Red because of Caleb's love of apples and purple because of his eye color. Your entire existence was centered on Caleb.

What you didn't know was that Caleb had gotten a special leave to be here today. He was hiding among family members, carefully avoiding you and watching you at the same time. He was still dressed in his fatigues, having only arrived an hour ago.

He could see that your smile was not reaching your eyes, and a layer of sadness was laid over you. Hiw he longed to go to you. But he was a little terrified of your mother. She'd threatened to throttle him within an inch of his life if he ruined the plan now.

His mother watching him like a hawk didn't lessen the threat. She kept a good eye on him, showing him in the opposite direction when she saw you coming.

Both sides of the family were working in tandem to keep you in the dark about his presence.

It was only when you were sitting down opening presents that he got closer to you, waiting until he was given the signal.

Finally, your mother approached you. "Happy birthday, baby." She started kissing the side of your head and giving you a side hug. "I wish you all the happiness in your days to come. Starting right now." You looked at her confusion on your face, and then she pulled you to your feet and turned you around.

Your eyes couldn't believe what you were seeing. Both your hands covered your mouth as tears welled in your eyes. "Caleb, CALEB!" You scream and run at him. He holds his arms out for you. Catching you when you launch yourself into them. Your feet leave the ground as he swings you around.

Your arms are tightly around his neck as you squeeze as close to him as you possibly can. One arm is at your waist, and the other is holding your head to him. That smile is on his face. Pulling your head back, he kisses your forehead. "Happy Birthday." He whispers to you, and you close your eyes waiting for a kiss, but it doesn't come.

Instead, his arms slip away from you as he steps back. Your eyes open, and a question is forming on your lips when you see him sink down to one knee. He holds out an open ring box with the most gorgeous ring you've ever seen. Tears spill down your face again as he begins to speak.

"I've known from the first day we met that you were the person I wanted to spend my life with. I love you more than life, with everything I have and everything I am. I don't want you to spend any longer without my name." He doesn't ask a question. His proposal was a statement, Caleb was possessive, overbearing, and overprotective. That was just who he was and you didn't want him to be anything than what he was. He accepted all of your flaws and you had his a long time ago.

You hold your left hand out and he slides the ring onto your finger. You know you're families are taking pictures and that your face is a mess from crying, but you've never been happier. He stands, and you jump on him. This time, you get the kiss you've been expecting.

You only pull away again when you feel a pat on your shoulder. "Sweetie, Caleb has to go back now. He needs to catch his flight back and he can't be late."

Sadness tinges your current elated mood. "Do you really have to go?" You ask clinging to him as your head presses to his heart so you can hear the steady beat. "Yes, I do. I'll be home in two weeks, don't you worry. My leave starts then and I don't have to go back the rest of the year." He holds both of your hands, kissing your knuckles and staring into your eyes. Another kiss and then he's pulling away as he follows his dad to the car.

"Caleb!" You hollar running after him and squeezing in one more embrace, trying to burn his scent and the exact pace of his heart into your body.

Then he's gone, the car whisks him away to the airport. Your mom takes you back to the backyard where the rest of the family waits to celebrate your new engagement and the your twentieth birthday.

When you get to work the next day, your best friend Tara is the first to come by your desk and hand you a purple wrapped box with a large bow. She's also the first to notice the addition on your hand. She's grabs it and gasps. "Oh my god!" She squeals jumping up and down. "Caleb came home?" You nod looking down at your ring.

"Just for a couple hours. He went back already." The rest of the day anytime you were at the station people came by to congratulate you on your engagement. Work was slow, for once there were no new cases waiting. Xavier, your ever sleepy partner had been dozing at his own desk for most of the day.

"Linkon has been quiet today. I hope it stays this way." You comment off hand and he nods in agreement. Being a detective, you often came into contact with the absolute worst human kind had to offer. Trying to help broke people was harder. Afterall learning to pick the pieces of a shattered life back up, was no easy task.

It happens as the following week draws to a close. The life altering news is delivered in by the hands of Caleb's Unit Chief. He's in his Mess Dress and he holds an envelope in his hands. He asks after your identity and when you confirm who you are hand hands the envelope over. "I'm sorry to deliver this news to you." He starts answering you feel your heart freeze as it stutters in your chest.

"Yesterday at 0800, there was a conflict with enemy airships. Officer Caleb engaged with them and the resulting end was an explosion, of both aircrafts." He pauses as you fall to your knees, silent tears falling down your face from unseeing eyes. "Miss?" He asks crouching down and patting your shoulder. You feel your brain disconnect from reality as you fall back in a dead faint.

Before you complete fall into the black abyss you hear him shouting for someone and then hurried footstepsand then nothing.

You want to remain in the dark, reality is not something you want to face, now or ever again. Because for forever, reality no longer includes your heart. Caleb had been taken from you.

Eventually your body betrays you and brings you to a conscious state. Your bleary eyes open and look around. Recognizing the white walls and the beeping of machines as a hospital room. A heavy weight in your left arm has you looking down. Your mother is asleep on your arm, her fingers holding yours tight.

Her hair is messy and she looks exhausted. You wiggle your numb fingers a few times and she begins to stir. She sits up rubbing her face. Finally she sees that you're awake. Her heart breaks as she looks at you.

"Oh baby." She says and you break down. Sobbing loudly and for all your worth. Your heart is shattered in a million tiny pieces with no hope of recovery. You want to feel nothing ever again.

It's only when you try to wipe away the tears that you notice it. Your ring is gone. Panic crashes over you like a tsunami and you sit up, ignoring the dizzy rush and the flood of nausea that washes over you.

"Where is it?" You cry looking everywhere. A frantic, crazed look in your eyes as your mother grabs your face and forces you to look at her. She used to do this as a kid when you were upset. Your forehead against hers, eyes locked, and breathing with each other. It's only when your heart rate comes down that she smooths your hair and produces the ring.

"No one is going to take it from you. But the doctors had to run tests and metal interferes. I kept it safe for you. Just breathe." You slip the ring back onto your finger and sit down. All energy gone now.

After your cleared to leave the hospital, your parents wisk you back to their house. Your mother doesn't want you to be alone. You don't really want to be company, but you've never been able to win against her. So you follow without complaint. You bury yourself in your bed and pray that you'll just go to sleep and Caleb will be there.

*******************************************************

Pain, that's all that he feels. It burns his body and numbs him to everything else. He can't belive he's still alive with how badly everything hurts.

He sort of remembers the events leading up to his current situation, but the details are fuzzy. He's trying to think around the pain. His thoughts turn to you. How he wishes to be where you are, his one and only love.

He's glad when sleep comes, it's a relief from the pain. Though he's pretty sure it's just him blacking out when he reaches his limit. He doesn't know how much longer he can survive in his current state. Being unable to move means he also cannot assess the extent of his injuries or call for aide. His only hope is that someone finds him.

The one thing he'd managed to do was activate his tracker. They weren't the most efficient devices and could not provide exact locations, at the very least it was a generalized area.

For the first time, he's glad his training was as through as it had been. He can guesstimate the number of days that have gone by since the crash. At most five, he's worried about how much longer he can endure these injuries with no treatment.

*******************************************************

You sit in the chair in front if the vanity. Hair pinned back from your face with a clip. A black veil hangs down from the bun. When you get to the church you'll flip it to cover your face.

Your black dress feels wrong, this is not the color you should be wearing for Caleb. You should not be going to his funeral today. You should be planning your wedding right now. A gentle knock on the door has you looking up. Caleb's father is standing there. His face etched with the sadness of his loss.

Wordlessly you stand and go to him and hug him. This man had been like a second father to you your whole life. From the first day you'd met and befriended Caleb, he'd been a constant in your life. Warm drops landed on your shoulder as he cried. His only son was gone and now he was having to bury him. How cruel was the hand that fate had dealt.

You looked over his shoulder when you heard footsteps to see your mother and Caleb's, climbing the stairs. "It's time." She said and waited for the two of you to join them.

The drive to the church seemed to fly by. Before long you were walking down the aisle to the front pews. So many people had turned up today. Friends from school, guys from Caleb's Unit. Family from both sides.

Tears started to flow as the priest began the service. Glad that no one could see you openly crying again gave you some peace.

When it was time for family and friends to say some things you stood first. Everyone had agreed for you to speak first. Walking down the aisle wearing black felt all wrong. Every step felt like you were walking further into a nightmare. Nothing about this was right. Caleb should not be gone and you should not be speaking at his funeral.

*******************************************************

The next time her woke up, it wasn't alone. Nearby he could hear voices. He tried calling out, but any attempts at speaking aloud were met with more pain. Just when he thought that they would miss him, the voices grew louder and then he heard the blessed words.

"Over there, I see him!" Relief flooded his body as at last, someone had found him. "Oh my God, he's alive!" Theyvsaid getting to him.

"Sgoldier can you hear me?" A man said kneeling next to him. He managed a weak yes. He was going home at last.

*******************************************************

One year later

Caleb was nervous as he stood on your doorstep. He knew everyone thought he was dead. The last year hadn't been easy. After rescue he'd died three times, and been successfully resuscitated. It was life changing. Due to delay of treatment, his right arm was lost. The mechanical replacement had been hard to get used to. It felt unnatural and alien for a long time.

He'd learned to live with it now. Sometimes he wished for feeling in the fingertips, but with this prosthesis, there was almost nothing he couldn't do.

He turned his hat around nervously in his hands trying to work up the courage to knock on your door. After finally making it back to Linkon, you were the first person he wanted to say. When he finally worked up the never and went to knock a voice behind him stopped him.

"Can I help you?" Your voice sent thrills through his entire body even as he froze. How sweet it sounded after all this time. Like a man dying of thirst given a drink. "Hello, do you need something?" You knew that tone, you were getting impatient with his lack of response.

Finally he started turning around and he hears your audible gasp. The bag you were holding dropped to the ground as you let go. "C- Caleb?!?" Your voice came out strangled as you gazed at him.

"Nicd to see you pipsqueak." He said using your childhood nickname. You couldn't even think as your body moved on its own. How was he here, no how was he even alive?" Your mind went into overdrive as questions swirled around.

He sat with you for an hour just holding you. For the fire time in a year it felt like you could really breathe. Caleb answered all of your questions. Some things he'd never really been able to recall, his memory had never returned for the crash. He wasn't sure how he was alive either.

He went into detail about his long stint in the hospital, the loss of his right arm, everything. Caleb hid nothing from you.

Afterwards you dragged him to his parents home and called yours over. His mother almost passed out when she saw him.

You didn't leave his side the entire time. You glued yourself to him. If he moved, so did you.

As the day gave way to night and the night burned away you stayed right next to him, trying to fight the drowsiness over coming you. Caleb tucked you into his arms and your head rest on his shoulder as you fell asleep.

Your dad was still chatting with him as you drifted off. "Don't you leave her again, son. She won't survive a second time." A smile twitched your lips.

"I'd never leave her alone. I love her more than my own life."

***************************

This is what happens when I get inspired. I write fics. Today's inspo is brought to you by my musical choice. Just A Dream: Carrie Ubderwood. I was SO tempted to give it the tragic end. Buuuut I didn't feel like being unnecessarily cruel atm.

I did one of those about me posts a while ago, and I did mention that music was my driving point. It's how I center myself. Carrie was my playlist choice after I got off work.

Can you believe I wrote this is an hour and a half?

Ya, me either, BUT I DID! 😅

Bt dubs, it's currently 2:30 in the AM where I am.

Who needs sleep?

Apparently, not me!! 😂

[nex-ture]

Hello so I was wondering if I could request saiki k headcannons with an S/o who is like norman from tpn? (Pretty privilege, super super smart, can’t open a jar, horrible immune system, teachers pet, always cold, even though he’s weak he’s very fast) if it’s okay can you do gender neutral? Don’t feel pressured to do this ❤️thank you

Saiki K x GN!Reader

Clearing out my asks and drafts, I also didn't read tpn... but pray

You don't really stand out to Saiki all that much. You're good at what you do, and you try hard.

Not exactly the ideal situation if you want to be noticed by Saiki.

The small things that do catch his attention is the amount of time you take off from school, yet still manage to get good grades.

I mean, if he was gone for multiple days every month, he's sure he wouldn't be able to keep up in studies.

His curiosity is his only drawl back, you've officially peaked his interest.

Saiki is always looking out for you once he realizes it's because you're always sick.

Sure, bad things happen, and you just have to move past them, but he does pity you. You work hard, and your only flaw is the body you're trapped in.

Once his days start revolving around you, he starts to pick up on small things you do.

Needing help from your friends to open things, always getting compliments for your academics and looks.

Sure, Saiki isn't the best when it comes to determining someones looks, but he couldn't deny your intellect and your dedication to education.

Saiki finds himself almost nervous to talk to you. You're popular yet so normal. You have your interests that you like, yet you have a normal routine.

Maybe you share the same ideal as him, that you wish everything in your life was normal and as it should be.

He awaits the day you strike the first move and speak to him first, it's a day he's been counting on since he met you.

[starman-john-tracy]

Pink Hair, Does Care [RP]

scramjettracy:

“Ha no, that one wasn’t the fish. Grandma bought it me because some retired pilot endorsed it.” Scott choked a little on the overwhelming cloud “the Gs must have taken out his olfactory nerves.” Scott pauses in his attempt to pick up glass shards using a pair of intact bottles as tongs and finds himself lost a moment, remembering his Mom’s arms around him as he breathed his panic and humiliation into her shoulder, much as John just had just now. “Gordon didn’t understand why I was so gutted… poor kid. I should have laughed it off but…” Mom had understood. “I had a date… prettiest girl on the cheer squad, only asked her out for a dare.” The sound from the shower could have been amusement or sympathy. Scott decided either worked for his current running-distraction purposes. “Slightly panicked when she agreed to be honest.. Anyway I spotted she had an autographed picture of this rock star stuck in her locker, he had spiky blue hair so… I figured… well. Yah. Mistakes were made.” If he thought back, his teenage self had probably been more worried what his friends would think if it went badly than whether the girl actually enjoyed it. Whatever it was, he’d got himself in a spiral and it had been the first time he’d cried on his Mom in years. And, as it turned out, the last too. He cleared his throat, John didn’t need to know any of that. “She told me she had an ill-advised purple dye incident the night before the wedding she met Dad at and the rest was history… I’m sure there’s a photo somewhere.”

"Lacey Hackett?" John remembers, because of course he does. "Blond, ninth grade?" The bathroom is filled with hot steam and the sharp smell of shampoo and desperation as John scrubs his fingers frantically through his hair. The shower water rushing down the drain is a promising neon pink, but his skin, with the heat turned up to practically boiling, is rapidly looking the same. "Did you ever actually get that date?"

He sticks his head out of the shower to look at his brother, foamy bubbles in his hair and pinks streaks staining his fingers. John catches sight of his blurred, alien reflection in the steamy mirror and finds it's like a stranger is staring back at him. Though no longer so neon, the limp wet strands, dark with water, are more of a dusky rose.

That's still... quite pink.

"I bet Mom pulled it off a hell of a lot better than us." John sighs, then ducks back in, scowling like the dye is mocking him personally with its stubborn refusal to fade. He squeezes another dollop of clarifying shampoo into his palm, weakly hoping for the best as, frustration etched across his face, he goes in for round two. Building up a lather between his palms he starts rubbing his scalp in frantic circles - hoping for some miracle against the relentless pink. The dye just won't budge though and the more John scrubs, the more his scalp starts to hurt.

He sticks his head out again to miserably appraise the mirror. Oh, maybe it is starting to look paler... or maybe that's just wishful thinking.

[butterfliesareamyth]

I wonder if good students who are also good people and are okay in their head actually exist.

Or if they're just a myth that teachers tell us about.