#i wish i had a job so i could stop thinking like this. it’s unrelenting. incessant. it invades every moment.

[wolfiesmoon]

Binding the book

duke!gojo x fem!reader

This is in a manhwa au?? I don't want to call it a royalty au since neither of you are royalty but its essentially your average manhwa plot

I've decided to write something completely unrelated to the canon plot of jjk since I'm still in the process of watching the anime lmaooo

i feel overwhelmed by this anime tbh someone save me , i might just skip to the second season since i've already seen the first one back when it first came out but lowkey forgor everything😵

He's talking to her with that smile on his face again. You really shouldn't be bothered by this anyway, so why do you keep staring? You know how this story ends for you anyways.

You quickly turned around, not wanting to invade upon Satoru's buisness any further. You weren't outright bothering him, but you have a feeling he wouldn't enjoy you staring at him from behind the corner like some stalker. Not when he has better things to be looking at.

You've been married to Gojo Satoru for exactly 3 months now. It was a marriage born of neccessity, pure interest to stop marriage pressure from your families. Atleast on his side, it was. He made that clear during the marriage proposal.

"Well, I'm mostly just doing this so mom stops nagging me about finding a wife already. I'm sure the same applies to you."

Those words have been replaying in your head for a while now. You've known Satoru only for about a year at that point, and even then it was mostly through social events you attended that he also happened to be attending.

So needless to say, it was simulaneously a complete surprise and completely expected when he suddenly gave your family a surprise visit to offer his hand in marriage.

You knew there was zero romantic feelings involved from the very beginning, so you know you shouldn't be surprised if Satoru wants to leave you for Lady Ichikawa, the girl he talks to almost every day. But your heart can't help but clench at the sight, and you wish Satoru could...

Nevermind.

You should be attending to your duties anyways.

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

You sighed, practically collapsing on your bed. Finance is not fun, to say the least. Being the Lady of the house is a suprisingly tiring job, and definitely gives you more respect for your mother.

The servants had already helped you change into your night gown, and you were perfectly ready to hit the hay right now.

As the servant put out the lights in the chandelier, you thought about Satoru again. The guy is an annoyingly persistent thought in the back of your head, that's for sure.

You haven't even talked in a week.

Sure, the two of you tend to get busy, but this essentially just proves to you what kind of marriage this is. If he did care about you, he would've checked up on you atleast once, wouldn't he..? You don't have a right to complain about it anyways, since you were the one who agreed to the marriage in the end. You should be grateful you even had a say in it.

As the servant closed the door behind you, you clutched the pillow in your hand. Maybe if you keep being useful, he won't discard you. You've only been thinking of yourself up until now. You just now realise that if he leaves you for Lady Ichikawa, you'll lose your family face.

This is shaping up to be a nightmare.

Suddenly, you hear a knock on the door. "Oiiii, can I come iiiin?"

Well, speak of the devil. You would recognise that voice anywhere. "Sure, come in." you said so, but did you want to face him right now? You felt conflicted, both really happy and really nervous.

As the door opened, you turned your head, his silhouette, illuminated by the lights in the doorway coming into view. "Man, it's dark in here. You're going to sleep so early?" he said casually as he turned on the oil lamp on your table.

You only nodded in response, looking at him with half wonder half suspicion. Why is he paying you a visit all of a sudden? "What..? Can't a husband visit his wife?" Satoru furrowed his brows, noticing your dimmly lit expression and sitting down on the edge of your bed.

"I'm happy you're here." You assured him. And you truly were.

"Right, of course you are." Satoru smirked boldly at you, but somehow, you could tell that he was relieved to hear it. He looked in front of him.

"I got you this." he said a little more quietly, handing you a book as you sat up in bed. But it wasn't just any book. "No way... how did you even get your hands on this?!" you blinked multiple times in the dim light, making sure your eyes weren't playing tricks on you.

When you realised how loud you just were, you quickly covered your mouth, and Satoru laughed at you for a bit before saying "I have my ways."

"That... doesn't answer the question. How much did this even cost?"

"...You shouldn't worry so much."

That idiot... You took another look at the book in your lap, the rare book you were trying to get your hands on for 3 years at this point. You can't help but wonder if the emergency finance work you had to do today has something to do with this.

"...Why?" you looked back up at him.

"Why what?" he flashed his usual smile at you, his white lashes fluttering as he gazed at you. This all seems... odd.

"Why did you get this for me? Why would you spend so much money on me? How did you even know I wanted this? What are you trying to do... here..." your last question died off as you saw his expression slowly shift to one of concern.

"You're... my wife? And I happen to know you want this? What kind of questions even are those, seriously." he scoffed, shaking his head.

"But... Lady Ichikawa..." why would he spend money on you when he could be putting it towards his future with Lady Ichikawa? Wait, why did you even start assuming that he'll leave you any minute to begin with? Gosh...

"Oh, her? Wait... are you jealous?" he raised his eyebrows playfully, leaning back. "Not really, I just thought that you... like her more than me." it felt strange finally admitting this to him.

"Ehhh.... She's just a friend, ya know. And I actually mean it. Why would I like her more?" Satoru looked as unaffected as ever, smiling at you. But beneath that nonchalant attitude and those shining blue eyes of his, you could feel confusion, doubt, and something else.

"You said in your proposal t-that... So I thought Lady Ichikawa..." all the turmoil that had been building up inside you for the last three months finally let loose, with you trying your best to speak through your tears. Isn't this pathetic?

"Shhh, I know what I said back then. But now that I actually have you, I dunno anymore. I wanna try out this whole love thing." Satoru moved up on the bed, moving over to your side and gently petting your head.

"In other words, you can stop crying now. Because I'm not letting you go anytime soon."

i dont like this one all that much I'll be real, but then again when do I ever ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

this is actually based on a very specific manga plot, if you get it right I'll give you a gold star ⭐

[obsessedelusional]

drunken jealousy (stupidity)

Konig x fem!reader

The crew is out celebrating a successful mission, everyone is having fun. Except for Konig who’s so focused on you from across the bar. What happens when he takes his drunk coworkers advice? Only they’re not interested in helping, only wanting to see him make a fool of himself.

2.1kish++++

feedback & reblogs appreciated ♥︎

⊹ ꙳ ✦ ⁺ ‧ ⨯. ⁺ ✦ ⊹

“Are you going to say something or just keep glaring at her?” Ghost speaks, breaking Konig’s unrelenting stare.

Bringing him out of his thoughts long enough to feel embarrassed for staring so hard that others noticed. The crew is out celebrating a successful mission at the local dive bar. It’s a few hours into the night and everyone is started to feel the effects of their drinks.

“You wait too long and you’re going to miss your opportunity.” Soap adds, motioning to where you’re sat.

Konig looks back at you, greeted by the sight a newer recruit flirting with you. The worst part you seem to be enjoying it, laughing along as the recruit whispers something Konig can’t hear into your ear. He’s immediately filled with jealousy, that even he is aware that he has no right to.

The two of you never got along that well. Not because of anything you did. You were nice, friendly to everyone around you. From the start Konig wanted nothing to do with you. At least that’s what he wanted you to believe. Everyone but you knowing the real reason that was afraid to get close to you. Knowing how easy it would be for him to fall for you. He can’t do that, he wouldn’t allow that. His only focus is and should been his job. Not the stupid crush he formed that made him feel like a teenager again. But you simply existing made that so hard for him.

All of this lead to a very uncomfortable relationship between the two of you. Well aware of the constant gaze, his eyes always seemed to be focused on you. He would often be the first to stick up for you or get in a new recruits face when they were being disrespectful to you. Then follow it up with some back handed advice aimed at you about how it was your fault. Or what you could do in the future to prevent it from happening again. Which only confused you more and pushed you farther away. He’d spend the rest of the day replaying the incident in his head, wishing he had said something different. Only to repeat the same mistake over and over again.

“You just going to let that happen?” Soap snickers, causing Ghost to laugh with him.

“I don’t have a choice.” Konig mutters, eyes never leaving you. Watching you take a sip from your drink, taking note of the way your lips touch the glass as you drink. Noticing the lip stamped shape from your lipstick on the glass. Thinking of all the places on his body where he would want those lips to taste. He groans, annoyed at the voice of his coworker taking him out of his thoughts. Pulling his attention from you again and back to the two idiots sat next to him.

“What’s stopping you?” Ghost asks.

“It’s inappropriate. We work together. It would never work.” He responds, quickly as if he’s said this to himself many times before. Like a mantra he says over and over again, to try and make himself believe that it’s for the best.

“Is it frowned upon? Sure. Does it really stop anyone? No.” Soap responds, drunken grin plastered on his lips.

“Even if I wanted to. I wouldn’t know how to approach her. She thinks I hate her.” Konig sighs, sitting back in his chair eyes still on you.

“Girls eat that shit up.” Soap says, laughing as he takes another drink.

“Yeah. They like to be dominated, told what to do. They like when you’re a little mean.” Ghost adds, intoxicated laugh following. These three men too drunk for their own good. Two of them ready to get the third man in trouble.

“Serious?” Konig questions.

“Yeah.” Ghost and Soap say in unison, they look at each other before erupting into laughter.

“You know what you should do?” Ghost says between laughter, trying to catch his breath.

“You need to let her know that she belongs to you, text her right now. Get her attention, steal it away from that new recruit.” Ghost suggests, Soap agreeing with him. The two of them trying everything in their power not to laugh more than they already have.

“Nein. She does not belong to me.” Konig huffs, shaking his head.

“You see something you want. You have to take it. These American women are nothing like the woman back from where you came from.” Soap says as he reaches for Konigs phone, wasting no time to type out a text before Konig can notice. Only to notice because Ghost is leaned, looking over Soaps shoulder as he types. Laughing his ass off, clutching Soap in an attempt to keep himself from falling.

“What are you…” Konig reaches for his phone, trying to take it from Soap. It’s too late because Soap is done, passing it back to Konig. He was in a rush to send out the message it’s filled with errors and makes little to no sense. The best his intoxicated brain can come up with such a short notice.

K: “Knck it off!! If he touches u he will sleep with the fishys.”

Konig reads it and his face drops, filled with dread for what’s about to happen. He can’t believe it until he looks up and sees you pulling your phone out from your pocket. He watches your happy mood, turn to confusion and then disgust. He watches your eyes scan the bar, looking for him. Stopping when you see him, giving him a dirty look. Ghost and Soap are sat next to him laughing so hard they’re close to tears.

Konig has always had this weird protectiveness over you but this takes the cake. You shove your phone in your pocket, deciding it’s best to ignore him. Obviously he’s drunk and they’re all playing a joke on you. You try to pretend like nothing happened.

The recruit you were once flirting with now gone after noticing your change in mood. This brings a smile to Konigs face, starting to wonder if maybe Ghost and Soap know what they’re talking about after all. It worked, it got your attention and now the recruit left you alone.

“What now?” He asks, expecting guidance from his friends.

“Here gimme your phone.” Soap says and Konig doesn’t argue this time, letting them help him. The three crowd around his phone, constructing the perfect text. A few moments later your phone goes off again.

K: ”Good girl.”

The scoff that leaves your mouth is loud enough for him to hear from across the bar, you refuse to turn his way this time. Unaware of the fact that Ghost and Soap are drunkenly helping Konig construct these texts to you. This time you respond.

”Why do you care what I do?”

Ghost and Soap cheer as the text comes in, already planning their next message. As Konig watches in anticipation, too drunk to realize he shouldn’t be allowing this. That maybe his two friends don’t actually have his best interest at heart. More concerned with watching Konig making a fool out of himself.

K: “Because you belong only to me! Do I make myself clear?”

”Since when?”

K: “Since now. Because we say so!”

”And what if I don’t want to be yours? Do I get a say in this?”

K: “No.”

”if you’re being serious, this is not the way to go about it. this is not making me want you more.”

K: “you love it. I don’t want u to like me we want u to love me bc I need me.”

”then stop being a giant dick head.”

You type the last message out and it hits you, why are you having this conversation over text? You shut your phone off, putting it away. Standing up from where your sat and heading to the bar. Some of your friends gathered around it. They’re all chatting away, unaware of your arrival. Doesn’t matter much because you’re not mentally there in the moment. You mind racing trying to understand where this is coming from. Aware of English not being his first language but that doesn’t make his use of ‘we’ make any sense.

While you’re trying to make sense of this situation Konig is being hyped up to approach you. Ghost and Soap filling him with more advice that isn’t going to help in the end. Just trying to get him to say some out of pocket things to you, try and get a reaction out of you for their own viewing pleasure.

You can see out of the corner of your eye Konig walking over, he’s very imposing, a mountain of a man, and he seems determined. He stands next to you, in front of the bar, his eyes lock onto your eyes, he doesn’t say anything for quite a while. As if he’s trying to find the words to say. Suddenly not nearly as confident as he was over text. Eventually you’re the one to speak up.

“What do you want?” You question.

“I want you. You belong to me and only me.” He says, voice shaky not conveying that he even believes it.

“Whatever this is you’re doing. It’s not cute. Quit being an asshole.” You respond, waving your hands in his direction. He looks at you, he doesn’t understand why you are still standing here despite him acting like a total ass. He sighs, and lowers his gaze.

“Süss, I am being mean to you because I need to show that I am dominant, and you need to be dominated. Do you understand?” He explains, reiterating Soap and Ghosts advice.

“Where did you hear this?” You ask and watch as his eyes flicker to where Ghost and Soap are sat. You follow his gaze to find them sat at their table, the two of them doing a terrible job at pretending to not be listening. Avoiding your eyes, only to return theirs when you look back at Koing and away from them. This whole incident starting to make sense.

“If I don’t dominate you, someone else will, süss.” He adds with confidence. It takes all your strength not to roll your eyes at his archaic way of thinking. That was obviously inspired by his friends to make him look like an asshole.

“Don’t you like when I tell you what to do?” He asks, his face falling to confusion. Unsure why his friends would lead him astray.

“No. Konig I don’t.” You respond flatly.

“I thought you would be into that? A dominant man who’s in charge of you?” He questions, genuinely wondering. You look up the man, trying to decide how to react. You think about how Ghost and Soap are expecting a negative reaction from you. You decide to not give them what they want. He waits for an answer.

“No. If anything I like to be in charge.” You finally respond, barley a whisper to not give the peanut gallery the slightest idea of your reaction. As you say this you move your hand to his chest. His eyes widen when you touch him.

"You...want...to be in charge?” He says slowly, you just obliterated every thing his friends said about you. Leaving the man more confused than he’s ever been. The thought of you taking charge, making a heat grow inside him.

“Mhmm I like my men to beg.” You say, shocked as the words come out. It’s not a lie but usually you aren’t so forward with this information but it’s obvious this man is an idiot when it comes to you. Getting a strong feeling that he’d do anything you’d ask, the thought fueling your ego.

"You...you want men...to beg?” His voice has a slight tremble in it, it seems like he's getting more and more excited.

"Beg for what?" He asks.

“For a taste.” You smirk, moving closer to him. His face turns red, he looks like a school boy, the excitement and heat is undeniable. He can't seem to control his facial expression and his voice, it's hard to describe, but he looks like he's very close to melting.

"Süss, please…” His voice is barely a whisper now, his eyes are glued onto your lips.

“Nuh uh, after the bull shit you made me endure with those texts from your friends. I think you can do better than that.” You demand, your serious tone letting him know you mean business.

"Bitte süss… please..” He's whispering, begging for you to give him what he wants. You look up at this man, he towers over you yet he’s the one begging. He leans down, getting closer to you.

“Pretty please, süss, I need you.” His voice is quivering, it's almost hard for him to get the words out. He’s never done anything like this before but for you he would learn to enjoy it. You let him stand there for a few moments, letting him think about what he’s doing before you close the distance. Pressing a quick kiss to his lips, only allowing it to go on for a few seconds.

The moment your lips touch each others, a flood of emotion and heat rushed through both of your bodies. Time stops, and his breathing starts to become irregular, he's breathing in and out heavily, he's growing excited. He finally understood what you meant by "a taste."

"You...you taste...so sweet..." His voice is still quivering, and his hands are still grabbing your body, showing that he still wants more. He was right about how easy it’d be to fall for you because all it took was one kiss and now he’s imagining all the things he’d do for another one.

“See what is possible when you stop being an asshole?” You tease.

“You like this…You like when I’m not an ass…and when I’m nice to you…?” He ask, trying to process everything, he can barely speak now.

“Yeah. So stop listening to your stupid friends.”

"If I am being honest, I was just trying to be mean to get your attention…” He admits.

“That’s not how you get a girl’s attention.”

"I hope you can please forgive me for being a jerk. May I ask for your forgiveness, süss?" He's still holding onto you, he seems to want to be as close to you as he can, he can't let go of you.

“Yeah I can.” You smile.

"Thank you for forgiving me, süss. Please kiss me again, it'll make me feel better." He has a cute, sincere smile on his face now, and it's hard to deny that you like him now, he did everything to impress you, even if he's still very clumsy with his words.

“If you want a kiss, you know what to do.” You say with a grin, which results in a sigh from him. Knowing exactly what you want and ready to give in.

"Pretty please, süss, ich brauche es..." He says this desperately, he really wants you to kiss him again.

It crosses his mind that he’s going to beg on his knees if this continues. He’d do it if you asked even in front of all these people. It’s a rare sight to see him like this, your emotions are going wild, all this begging seems to do something to you. You grab his face bring him down to your level, kissing him slowly. His hands further wrap around your waist, pulling you closer. Yor hear the sound of Ghost and Soap cheering you two on. Mid kiss you flip them off, causing their cheers to grow mixing with laughter.

[vanesycho]

hiya!! I'm not on tumblr much so idk if you'll remember me or see this but i stopped by randomly to thank you for writing your "chan is for the girls who" post and I saw your one for the others recently and just wanted to say how beautiful they all were and how appreciated they were.

i had a quick question for you, though: what's your favourite piece of work that you've written? or what's a piece of your own work you wish more people would read? I would love to give them a read sometime.

thanks! have a great day!!

hii thank you so much for your nice comment and your question. you're so kind🥹🤍

bf!jaehyun x gf!reader x roommate!jeno [nsfw] 2,6k

• I usually don't go back and read the smut fics I write because when I look at them they become cringe, but this was fun to write, it's a fic that I think I did a good job of even though I was still in the early stages of my blog.

jaehyun x reader [age gap, nsfw] 2,5k

• The second part of this fic was requested a lot and although I didn't think of doing it at first, the fic that came out after that was honestly beyond my expectations, honestly I like writing age gap, it's fun hehe🤭

friends to lovers with shotaro [fluff] 1,9k

• 'FLOP AHH FIC'. I had a lot of fun writing this but unfortunately it didn't get that much attention ;( there was no reason actually it was just nice to write and after I finished it I thought I did a really good job but judging by the notes, I could be wrong lol

seungcheol x reader [fluff] 1,1k

• A fic about the reader and her dad's coworker Seungcheol getting closer after her being forced to attend her father's business dinner.

Even though it's the second fic on my blog, it's still a fic that I think I did a good job on, is it rookie? Yes, but still, when I look at it, it's still one of the ones I think is good, even though it's my first time writing a fic.

bangchan x reader [fluff] 1k

• I wrote it on a night when I was having trouble sleeping and had nightmares every day. It may sound ridiculous, but that's why it has a special place in my heart. Bangchan is probably the one I feel the safest with out of all the idols, so I usually like to write fics with angst and light fluff about him.

friends to lovers with jeno [fluff] 2,8k

• Another fic that I had fun writing. I especially enjoyed the parts with Jaemin, he just gives off a vibe of a friend who could totally be a matchmaker.

seungcheol x reader [age gap, nsfw] 2,3k

• As I said, I like writing age gap. Instead of the bartender reader and Seungcheol, I actually first thought of this idea with Jaehyun. It had been rotting in my notes for a long time, and then I thought it would suit Seungcheol too, so I finally put the idea into writing.

camboy!san x reader [nsfw] 3,8k

• Honestly I had nothing in mind when I added this to kinktober. When I started writing it, things happened completely out of the blue and to be honest it was better than I expected. It was going to be a fic that used more toys because San was a camboy, but honestly I felt a bit embarrassed...idk why.

bangchan is for the girls who...

• A short headcanon that came to my mind at an unrelated moment and after writing it I said 'what did I just write?'

The reason I actually added this here is because of the reactions I got back from people. I can say that I was surprised after realizing how emotional and loving many people got. It just saddens me to see that some people really need love but don't get it, everyone deserves to be loved and valued.

It was a headcanon that took off when I least expected it, so thank you all so much for your support🥹🤍🤍🤍

yeah that's it..I hope to write better ones, if you have any other my fics that you enjoy reading, you can write them too, thank youuu🫶🏻🫶🏻

[chartreuseian]

For the "I Wish You Would Write a Fic Where"... :

Helen, James, John, and Nikola figured that between the four of them, children would be an easy task. But as they tackle parenthood, they realize it's not as simple as they thought.

Alright. This was absolutely the hardest of the bunch because my head is literally incapable of thinking about anything but the awesome foursome from Lessons (and their dynamic is less 'raising a baby together' and more 'oh shit Helen is pregnant') so I adapted your prompt a little...

To make up for it though, I added a healthy dose of John so I hope that eases any liberties on my part...

Context that is necessary (because I don't know if I've told you much about where Lessons heads in this space): Helen gets preggers with the baby, John is the one who names her Aurora because she's born at dawn and he's a big sentimental softy who unshockingly becomes her favourite when she's older (her middle name ends up being James at Nikola's insistence). At this stage in their relationship, James and John are together and living in London. Helen is in Old City and, before the baby, Nikola came and went a bit but considered being with her 'home'. Henry came to live with Helen nearly thirty years ago so is a grown up by a lot.

I think that's everything? I hope that's everything...

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Leaning back in her seat, Helen let out a long, low sigh. Aurora had, finally, settled and the warm weight of her little body in her arms made her chest feel warm and full. Her eyes drifted shut slowly as she let the rocking chair take her weight fully and, distantly, she made a note to thank Nikola once more for insisting on purchasing the top of the line piece (her instinct had been for wood and tradition but it was one of the few times he hadn’t been willing to bend to her will).

“Would you like me to take her?”

John’s voice was soft and tentative and Helen hummed, shaking her head while still keeping her eyes shut. She heard his steps, soft on the rug before there was a strange shifting of fabrics that very nearly made her open her eyes.

When John’s hands landed on her legs, however, she simply smiled and allowed him to pull off her slippers.

The first press of his thumbs to that special spot just below the ball of her foot had her moaning a little too loudly, body melting at the touch.

“Careful,” he murmured, ever so faintly amused. “I’ll not be held responsible if you wake her.”

“Entirely your fault,” she said, sighing and wiggling her toes as he continued his efforts.

“Shall I stop?”

Smiling despite her closed eyes, Helen pressed her foot more firmly into his grip.

“Don’t you dare.”

John chuckled again but fell back into working the knots of her feet. They were swollen and sore and even though the baby in her arms was coming up on three months old, Helen still felt like she hadn’t seen her feet properly in eons.

It was mildly ridiculous, she thought, that after years of wearing heels and boots and all manner of highly inappropriate footwear for her job that it would be shuffling about with her infant daughter would be enough to cripple her.

“It’s different,” he said after a moment, his fingers unrelenting on all the most painful spots. She could just about feel the tightness in her legs melting under his ministrations. “Compared to Henry, I mean.”

Helen chuckled, pointing her foot.

“I should think so,” she murmured in reply. “A lot less breastfeeding involved.”

John didn’t reply, but she could envision the look he would be offering.

“I only meant that it’s… A newborn, a baby… It’s different.”

Not bothering with a reply, Helen rolled her shoulders blew out a long breath while she waited for John to come out with whatever thought had had him kneeling before her.

“You should let James and I take her for the night,” John said eventually as he switched feet. “Get yourself some proper rest.”

Sighing, Helen opened one eye.

“You’re half in love with her, aren’t you?”

He had the good sense to look down and away at that, smirking a little as his fingers worked their magic on her other foot.

“More than half,” he admitted, one hand shifting to cup her ankle. “James too.”

Chuckling to herself, Helen let her head fall back and watched the ceiling. Their devotion to the child was endearing and entirely expected, but every now and again Helen found herself breathless with the delight of it all.

“I do actually enjoy looking after her,” she said after a few moments. “You don’t all need to take her out of my arms every ten minutes.”

John’s fingers moved up her calves, stroking at the muscle until Helen shivered and she gave him a sharp look.

Unrepentant, he shuffled further forwards and massaged her leg.

“Don’t let James hear you talk like that,” he said, raising an eyebrow. “He’ll come out with a theory that you’re afraid of being replaced as our best girl.”

Snorting, Helen used her big toe to jab at his chest.

“Like you’re not all terrified that she’s the centre of my world and not you.”

John grabbed her toe before she could do it again.

“She’s the centre of all our world’s, I think.”

Something about the declaration made her hormone drenched brain light up like a damn Christmas tree and Helen felt her eyes grow hot and wet.

“Damn it,” she muttered, bringing her free hand up to swipe at her cheeks before the damage got out of hand.

John’s touch stilled and she felt his concern fall heavily across the room.

“Just… just sentimental,” she said, waving her hand as yet more hot tears rolled down her cheeks. “Part of me always wondered if… Once she arrived…”

She couldn’t say the words (they were entirely too foolish) but John seemed to understand in an instant, dropping her leg in favour of kneeling between her knees. His hands landed on her thighs, stroking softly as he leaned towards her.

“Helen, we could never, ever abandon you,” he said, his voice soft and soothing and prompting a fresh round of tears. She let out a wet, rather pathetic little laugh and shook her head.

“I know,” she replied, reaching out to cup his cheek. “Of course I know that…”

“We love you too much,” he continued, eyes shining.

“I know, John.”

“And Aurora.”

“I know.”

“And we-”

The declaration was lovely but entire unnecessary and Helen laughed, shaking her head as she pressed two fingers to his lips.

“I know,” she said again. “I know all of that, dear.”

She kept her fingers in place and so John remained silent but the crease in his brow grew deep. Sighing once more, Helen shifted her fingers up to smooth out the line.

“Sometimes,” she said, watching fondly the way he shifted into her touch just the same way her daughter did, “I am simply… overcome with gratitude. For you. For James and Nikola. For our baby girl. For all of it.”

He smiled, capturing her hand and brushing his lips against her knuckles. It was such an old gesture between the two of them and yet it still made her heart flutter as heat rose in her cheeks.

“Now that is quite the image…”

John turned, not dropping her hand and Helen found herself chuckling at James’s lean figure as he reclined in the door way. His eyes glittered as he gestured lazily for them to go on.

“Oh, don’t stop on my account,” he said, grinning just a little. “If I remember correctly, it was an image not dissimilar to this that started us off in the first place.”

Scoffing, Helen sat back in her seat.

“It was my inability to put up with you two pussyfooting around any longer that started us off,” she replied, keeping her voice low but unable to resist the challenge she saw in James’s eye. John sighed, shaking his head at the two of them and she had half a mind to have James clip him over the back of the head for her.

What business did he have trying to pretend like he was the sensible one of them all?

“And of course, you start without me,” Nikola drawled as he appeared beside James, an arm wrapping around his waist. James gave him a warm smirk and leaned into the touch.

“Nothing is starting,” she told him, rolling her eyes. “Of that we can be sure.”

“Not while Johnny’s in my favourite spot,” Nikola replied, arching an eyebrow.

John groaned and rolled his eyes and twisted but did not vacate the space before her and Helen would have laughed if she couldn’t already feel Aurora beginning to stir in her arms. The girl always seemed terrified of missing out on any moment the four of them were together, adamant that she must be awake to ensure that every single possible moment of coddling and cooing could be soaked up.

Frankly, Helen was starting to suspect her daughter to be a little bit of a diva.

And then, as if on cue, Aurora made a small, whimpering sound as she pressed one small fist against her cheek. Her lips opened and closed a few times and, as her whimpering grew louder, Helen had little down what it was her daughter needed.

Her boys, however, seemed not to recognise the signs of hunger. All three of them were surrounding her in a moment, hands snaking forth as if they might be able to steal Aurora away and have the privilege of rocking her back to sleep (she could so rarely convince them to let the girl sleep in her bassinet).

“Go,” she said, swatting away their hands as she adjusted her hold on the now fussing infant. “I’m fine. Truly.”

“But-”

“I can-”

“Let me try-”

“No.” She gave them all a dark look. “Unless one of you has magically developed the ability to produce breast milk and decided not to share it with the group, you’re of no use to us right now.”

They grew still.

“So go to bed, screw one another silly and leave my daughter alone.”

There was general clamouring but Helen tutted them once again, holding up a hand.

“I’m serious,” she declared, adjusting her hold on the child once more. “If I get to bed and the three of you aren’t sweaty and sated, the consequences shall be rather unpleasant.”

Nikola (of course it was Nikola, it could only ever be Nikola) rocked back on his heels and made a face.

“But you…”

Shaking her head, Helen bit back a smirk. His concern was touching really. Or would be if his general tetchiness wasn’t starting to drive her up the wall.

“You’ve got your orders,” she said, arching an eyebrow. “Or are you going to make me repeat myself?”

Nikola’s shiver was the most pronounced (she made a note to add that to the list of things to praise him for later) but John and James shared a look that made it obvious they were taking her command to heart.

Settling back into her seat, she smirked.

“Well, go on then…” she said, gesturing with her head. “What are we waiting for now?”

James sighed heavily and shook his head (doing, in her opinion, a very poor impression of someone who was feeling a little put out by the assigned job), pulling John to his feet.

“The things we do for you,” he said balefully and Helen laughed while Aurora’s fussing grew a little louder.

With another sigh, James nabbed Nikola’s arm and began to pull him backwards too. He allowed it, but when they reached the door, he paused to throw a longing gaze over his shoulder (Helen wasn’t sure whether it was for her, or for his desire to steal a few minutes with his infant daughter) but James continued on, marching them across the hallway and into her room despite the general protests Nikola in particular seemed inclined to offer.

Smiling to herself, Helen looked down at the squirming child in her arms and tapped her tiny button nose.

“Whatever would we do with out them?”

[lamemaster]

Subject of Faith

Pairing: Sauron x Human reader

Summary: It was not the cockiness of omnipotence, but a longing that lined your words. And Sauron knew that longing, for Ainur and Men shared it.

"Would you rather put all your faith in someone you can't see?"

"Like the music can't be seen and fragrance can't be held, faith is not a matter of seeing, it is subject to believing." Your answer frustrated Sauron.

A mere human dare talk back to him? A guard of the king of Numenor. A lowly guard whose entire life would be blink of an eye from Sauron.

Yet, Sauron could not stop speaking. Every passing second he poked at every aspect of your existence to find a weak spot. Anything that would quench his curiosity about you.

A distant part of his conscious warned him to restrain. To not reveal his plan and to play the part of a gullible repentant. He truly tried but failed.

You were nothing. A poor human who stood outside his cell for hours. A monotonous and taxing job. But no matter how hard Sauron tried he failed to find a crack.

"Don't you desire for an immortal life, likes of which is given to the elves?" He questioned you, settling back into the now familiar game of unravelling your mind. "How nice would it be to not leave your dear ones, to be with them forever and to not suffer the pain of old age."

You do not turn to face him. Your back does not relax at his honeyed words but you do answer him. You always do. You treat him with the fairness of any other being. Answering his questions while continuing your job. "Maybe it would be easy to accept the bliss of immortality and wish for a life I have never lived. However, how unfair would it be to dishonor a gift given by my creator. How can I a mere mortal know of his plans for me? I can only submit to the one who has given me the chance to see this world and hope for another mercy or another miracle to be revealed." Your voice rings loud in the desolate prison. "Furthermore, I really look forward to seeing my grandparents in whatever fate awaits me," the slight joy in your voice stuns Sauron.

It is not the cockiness of omnipotence but a longing that lines your words. And Sauron knows of that longing. Ainur and Men share it. A lingering remembrance of their true home. Elves, whose fate remains tied to Arda know little of it. A constant tug to overturn the world looking for that one place that promises some relief from the constant restlessness.

The same restlessness grows in Sauron's heart. After eons he finds himself thinking of not Utumno or Valinor but the Timeless Halls where he first came to be.

He resented you for doing that to him. He had heard imploring words of silver-tongued elven lords and forgiving speeches of the Valar who resided beyond seas, but none had bugged him like the simple words of the human who stood guarding him.

And so, the chained Maia rested his head on the cold unrelenting wall behind him. "I hope to see you the day you die. When death will look you in the eyes, I hope you manage to remain as sure as your sound right now."

Months later when Tar Mairon, the closest advisor of the king, finds himself in the same prison. His hands dipped in the warmth of your blood.

You lay on the cold ground that had once been the spot from where you answered his questions with your back facing him. In the past, he rarely saw your face but now as he looks at the peaceful look on your face he knows it to be you.

There is indeed no bitterness or fear in your death. It is acceptance that greets Sauron. Even in death you stay true to your words. Sauron marvels at the stubborn human who refuses to bow to him in life and death.

One day...one day he promises, you will meet again. That day he might force you to kneel or he might end up joining you. That day was too far but it would come after trials that awaited him.

In a twisted fate, he hopes in some salvation you await him. And when he finds you, he hopes to hear your voice and ask you questions that you reply to without a fail.

He will find you when he can't offer you the hoax of immortality or feed you falsehood of greed. You don't need that. You won't accept that.

So, Sauron awaits for his song's end. Maybe his end will guide him to you or some peaceful oblivion.

[hey-august]

time for a personal - very much unrelated to clowns - post 🩷

CW: Talking about loss, bit of dark humor bc that's how i cope

Tomorrow is the 12th anniversary of joining the dead dad's club, so here are 12 things about my life that I wish I could share with him:

I still dye my hair vivid colors. I’m still surprised you let me dye it pink in high school lol.

I have some facial piercings. I don’t think you’d like them, but they’re cute. Trust me.

We moved! A few hours upstate, near a city that you made a goofy joke about once and I think about all the time.

I had pet hedgehogs and you would have thought they were neat. 🦔 We have a dog now and you two would definitely be cuddle buddies.

Speaking of “we,” I got married. It was a courthouse wedding, like yours. 💐

For our honeymoon, we went to Japan. You would have liked going there for vacation, even though you were more into cruises.

A little different from the others, but they made movies for The Hobbit. I still haven’t finished reading the book, but now I understand why killing Smaug wasn’t the end of the story, haha.

Our Halloween decorations were in the local newspaper. They were just dressed up skeletons, but fame is fame. 😎

I have a job I love. It’s not in healthcare (like you wanted) or a direct result of going to college, but it’s fulfilling and makes me happy. You sit on my desk, so you probably know this already. I hope you’d be proud.

It took me a while to stop crying when certain songs played on the radio. I didn’t expect “Maggie May” to do me in as frequently as it did. 🙃

I still have the letters you wrote me. I don’t read them often, though.

Every time I write “ily,” it makes me think of you, because you were excited to learn text lingo.

Maybe you've watched all this unfold, wherever you are. And if not, here it is.

[nihilnovisubsole]

it's that time of year again: AK's 2023 Wrapped™. no, not the music thing. the december year-in-review thing. my spotify charts were deeply unfunny this time around because of all the game soundtracks i've been listening to. i don't know when these end-of-year posts became tradition for me, which is to say i could find out and i'm too lazy to check. the important thing, like lemon pigs or eating black-eyed peas, is that it feels like we've always done it. in the depths of winter, the warmth comes from the routine.

i won't beat around the bush about it: it's been a difficult year. it's been hard enough that it doesn't seem appropriate to joke about it or wave it off in favor of big, blog-worthy wins. times are dark right now. it behooves all of us to think deeply and check on each other. i hope i've been a decent friend to the people who needed it. so instead of scraping together a halfhearted victory lap, i'm going to go against my better judgment and be vulnerable.

it wasn't all bad. i got promoted to staff narrative designer this year, which is a fancy way of saying "you don't have to do time cards anymore." it's strange: in an industry infamous for volatility, my job has become one of the few things i can rely on to be positive. i believe my coworkers like me, which is good, because i like them. i feel not just included, but welcomed at work social events. i've developed a reputation for being a garbage goat on my writing team. "got an odd job? give it to AK. we can count on her to eat it." i had the chance to collaborate with someone i've looked up to for years, and i was delighted to find out how amenable they are to work with. there's work stress and there's work stress. everyone has challenging days, but it's not the crab bucket that voltage was, so it never seems that bad. i keep it in perspective. sure, these tasks keep me on my feet, but is it three cents a word, seven thousand words a week? i'll live.

i just wish it had all been good. it speaks to how my health has been that getting covid in february was one of the most mundane things to happen to me. i did everything right. i had all my boosters. i had paxlovid. i recovered well. still, it knocked me out of orbit in the psychological sense. i stopped getting enough exercise, though i'm building myself up again. i became neurotic about my stats. am i Getting A Good Grade In Blood Pressure? what about Pulse Rate? two months later, i came down with a strange, unrelated condition that was nowhere near as serious as covid, but made my life ten times more difficult. i'm happy to report i feel worlds better these days. even so, it was a bizarre time. bodies sure are curious.

later, my sink flooded my closet, and for a few days, i had to reckon with the idea that mold might destroy my entire wardrobe. all those irreplaceable pieces of character design that i've built my identity around since i was eighteen years old. who would i be without them? a wise person would say it was a lesson: stop defining who you are by your looks and find worth in your inner self. the mold is gone and my clothes are fine, but sometimes i have days where my lungs seem like they're sort of operating at ninety percent. i'm trying not to fuss about it. my checkups are normal, and i feel fine whenever i get out of the house for a while. maybe it'll go away when i move. because, hey, i can contemplate saving for a house now. how about that? remember when my mother and i were homeless? what a surreal landscape of highs and lows.

maybe grief is strange like that. in july, just when my health started to settle down, my grandmother died. it was a long time coming. she was 94 and extremely frail. i handled it well at first. it took the ensuing few months for the full weight of human mortality to sink in. before, i'd mainly been to funerals of warm, but distant old men, great patriarchs who loved but didn't relate to little girls. her, i knew. she was there when i was born. i won't go into detail, but it was not a peaceful passing, and it left problems in its wake. you don't live through that without taking a long, hard look at your life. everyone gets the invincibility knocked out of them sometime.

my mother is too disciplined to let it get the better of her. on the worst days of her life, the stove still got cleaned and the bills got paid. when people give her condolences, she encourages them to look on the bright side: she got almost seventy years with her. how many children can say that? but i can tell she's sad, and i'm not under any illusion i can help. i have to sit with it. there's nothing else for me to do.

under different circumstances, i'd have thrown myself into my work. i'd come up with some writing project to avoid thinking about it. i guess the dominant theme when it comes to my personal writing has been inertia: accomplishing nothing and being unsure of myself. if it's a growing pain, it's a rough one. i question my storytelling instincts so much, it's hard to get a story off the ground, let alone take it anywhere. i've hit a point where i find the conventions of the romance genre limiting. i still want to write about people in love, though, and i can't reconcile the two. why do some love stories get to be love stories and others are "just romance?" you could ask why it's "just" romance, and that's a good, but different conversation, i think. what are the great love stories saying about the human condition that i'm not? what is my work saying, period? not a whole lot, i'm afraid. i used to be pugnacious about writing from my id brain, about doing it for the fun of it. i worry that's not going to cut it anymore. i have to push myself harder. i also have to stop fretting about being perceived as pretentious for asking these questions.

it would be easier if i had more answers. i'm not sure which project to work on next, because they're all half-formed outlines with plots i don't know how to fill. i'm not sure whether it'd be weird for someone with my job to keep writing or posting fanfic, no matter how informally. i'm not sure what role physical intimacy should play in my writing, if any, because along with everything else, this was the year shame caught up to me. i'm not sure what happened there. i hope the "are sex scenes necessary" debate didn't get me, because i'd argue for their artistic merit any day. but when i do it, i worry that it's indiscreet somehow, like i'm revealing myself in ways that make strangers uncomfortable. some days i feel like going through my backlog of published work and tearing out all the sex-adjacent content like a power-mad inquisitor. i won't, because i'd regret it, but i spend a lot of time being embarrassed. it's embarrassing. i can't escape the feeling that people don't want to know that about me.

despite it all, it's still bad form to end on a down note, so i'll leave you with this: after five years, i finally got into physical therapy for my arm. i told my doctor the whole sob story and she put in a referral to a hand/occupational clinic. will it help? i don't know. i've tried so many things that haven't. but they're optimistic that i'm in better shape than i think - i've heard a lot of "wow, we get patients who can't even open a jar!" - so it's worth a shot. if it means i can draw a little more, it's something. i still make time for the picrew every day. ever onward. thanks for hanging in there with me, guys. you keep things interesting.

[mcalhenwrites]

A lot of thoughts. Because I went job hunting instead of writing, and I'm beginning to think I'm a bigger failure than I ever realized.

I... have no degrees. No experience. Just a high school diploma. No trade school. No classes. I've worked retail previously (cashier as well as sales associate working with planograms to fill store shelves), but not even two collective years total. I volunteered a few times in high school at a daycare through a high school program, and I volunteered for two semesters at a dog rescue. I'm currently multitasking at a dog grooming salon. I answer phones, book appointments, log inventory, sell inventory, clean. And I'll be adding some baking assistant duties to that soon, tho I did help a little bit today in-between the other duties. (We make dog-safe treats in-house at one of our locations. I work at two different locations.) My other experience is related to writing, crocheting, etc. I spent most of my life focusing on writing. I am not actually good with using software like Microsoft Word or Scrivener. I just use them to write. I have to google how to do certain things with them all the time, often repeatedly, because... I just can't seem to retain the knowledge. I can figure a few things out on my own, but I suck at it. At work, I'm really bad at sometimes processing what people try to say, particularly on the phone. I'm a little... slow. I can do it, but if I were at a place that didn't have an understanding boss, I'd be pretty fucked and likely fired. (I'm nice, but oh god, people please stop giving your phone numbers and spelling of your names SO FAST. GO SLOW. I'm STUPID.) I'm easily overwhelmed even with my relatively slow-paced job, which has enough free time for me to draw and read and do a lot of things completely unrelated to my job. I'm learning as I go, and I don't think I'm TERRIBLE, but I certainly do wish I could be better at it. I don't want to work around customers outside of this particular job. I can't go back to full retail. Fuck that so much. Unless it's a cool indie bookstore or something? FYI, I like my job, I just can't survive on it, and it just doesn't pay enough for me. I also can only work about 3 days a week, I've tried 4 and it's killing me, so it's probably a good thing that my temporary 4 days was temporary. Especially when I'm going to be doing assistant baking closer to the holidays. I'm just... terrible at this life thing. How did I get so close to 40 and just fail this fucking hard? I know my parents weren't supportive of college or trade school or anything, really, and that everything I ever mentioned was thrown out. I know I have physical (and probably mental) disabilities. Everything I know - all that writing that people praise? It's self-taught. I took 5 years to complete high school, and I only managed to do it in that time because I had to go to summer school. I did well if I had a lot of help from teachers, but I couldn't do it without that. (I ended up going to an alternative high school where teachers could provide that one-on-one learning.) I think I write fantastic books. My mind is such a creative place, and I have such complex characters. I have a good grasp of writing topics like abuse. But what kind of specialty is that? I can't survive. I want to give up. I haven't yet, and I've done everything to try harder in the circumstances I'm facing, and... it's doing nothing. It's going nowhere. I'm so fucking unlovable and stupid.

[hexedwinchester]

Hi! Can I request a Sam Winchester x reader with an established relationship where reader helps him deal with a hangover? (Could be in that one episode where they deal with the haunted hotel, with the little girl who's friends with her grandma's sister's ghost who ends up trying to kill her)

hello ghostlyaccurate!

Of course you can. Pasting it down here for a quick read but this is also published on AO3 if you find it easier to read it there.

AO3 link below and please do let me know if you enjoyed it. I certainly enjoyed writing it. Thank you for the request! :)

The voices are soft and muffled at first, giving you a false sense of security that you are lucid dreaming. But the next minute, the argument rise loud, snapping you out of the sleepy haze. 1:49, the clock by your bed reads the time in angry red digits. The voices grow close and loud enough for you to make out some words through the door of your motel room. Instinctively, you reach for the loaded Glock G19, stashed under your pillow for situations like this.

Bolting upright, you quietly pad to your door, placing your ear against it. On the other side, you can hear Tim, the newly appointed manager of Driftwood Motel giving out cop threats to somebody, "Sir, I'm calling the cops!"

"Whatever, man!" The huskier voice replies. You know that voice like your mother's lullaby, so you lower the gun and open the door to see Sam standing there with his hand frozen in the middle of a knock.

"Y/N, go back to sleep, I can handle this jerk. The cops are on their way." Tim beams behind Sam's broad shoulders as he stumbles in the room.

You stop Tim at the threshold. "There's no need for that, I'll handle him."

A look of confusion washes across his face followed by hurt. You guess he thinks you are going to fire him so you force a small smile for his benefit and quietly mouth the word 'boyfriend'. Tim smiles, assures you that he will take care of the cops and wishes you goodnight. Although, he doesn't leave before casting a nervous glance at Sam behind you.

You lock the door. Resting your head on the surface you take two deep breaths to calm your racing heartbeat, the smell of paint hitting you strong. Turning around, you find Sam Winchester sitting on your bed looking rather sullen and regretting his life choices.

Flipping the light switch on, you leave the Glock on the dresser next to the door and walk to the bed. Sam is drunk, you can tell even without the need to smell the alcohol on his breath. The signs are easily visible in the disheveled hair, the glassy look in his eyes and the small giggles bursting out of him.

"You're drunk." You state as a matter of fact.

He nods his head comically. "And your manager called the cops."

Completely unrelated and irrelevant and but that's what drunk people do, find weird places to connect dots.

Your lips mimick Sam's, wanting to get in on his inside joke that has him laughing like a child but you hold back. Though he has been a happy drunk based on the last two occasions that you have seen drunk, the fact that he is swimming in alcohol rings alarm bells in your head. While his older brother Dean, is known for drinking like a fish on the job, Sam is always the sober one.

Speaking of, "Where's Dean?" You ask. It's impossible to sleep through Dean's growling Impala. Clearly, Sam had come alone.

Sam shrugs but does not offer any other response. He twirls the black cord on his wrists and chews on his lips. He is nervous. Having dated him for six months now, you are aware of his little tells.

"How did you get here?"

That question bubbles another laughter from him. "Hitchhiked", he sniggers.

"Sam, you know it's dangerous right? What with yellow eyes out there hunting down the special children like you."

Six months ago, Sam and Dean rented a room for two nights at this very motel. Both Sam and you grew up with a hunter for a parent and while you got out and opened Driftwood Motel, it was disheartening to learn that Sam was sucked back into the horrible hunting business. That was also the time you learnt about your own feelings for this tall but shy, handsome guy that shared the same rebellious cause as you.

"Let him come, I'm ready." Sam boasts.

You take a seat next to him. Cupping his face in your palms, you urge him to look at you. "No, you are not, baby. Not in this condition."

The giggles vanish and a hurtful expression crosses his face. So much for being a happy drunk. His happiness barely ever lasted throughout the entire state his drunkenness and then he delved right into the dark recesses of his mind.

Tears well up in those hazel green eyes and it breaks your heart to see him hurt like that. "Sam, what happened?"

Sam didn't drink without a reason. Something had to have happened. A hunt gone wrong, a failed expedition, a sign of bad news or worst case Dean was hurt. "Is Dean alright? Are you alright?"

In both cases he nods his head. Relief courses through your veins. "Then what is it, baby?" You ask him softly, brushing away the tears running down his cheeks.

"People", he pauses to let the hiccup pass, "people always die around me." You wait for him to continue, carding your fingers through his soft hair. "Three people died today and a little girl almost drowned."

Oh Sam! He always saw deaths during a hunt as a failure on his part. This is exactly where it was going. "Sam, you can't save everyone, you know that. But at least you saved the girl."

"Barely", he scoffs. "Another minute and she would have died too. On my watch, just like Jessica and Ava. What if something happens to you? I cannot live knowing I put your life at risk."

Tears gush down his face. You lean over and pull him in a hug. He lets you. Both of you sit there in each other's embrace for a length of time.

Probably the only good thing to come out his drunken state is that he lets down his guard around you completely. You rub his back, rocking him lightly, humming an old song you often heard on the radio.

"I love you, Y/N", he mumbles in the crook of your neck stilling you in place. This is the first time Sam has said those words to you. Last few months you wondered what this would feel like, if at all it happened.

Hunting life meant no relations because it always ended up with someone getting hurt. Sam, who was surrounded by death most of his life was already scarred enough by the death of his first love: Jessica.

You were prepared that this day might never come. Sam would never utter those words again in his life. But he here was, a bit drunk but in your arms, confessing his love to you.

Did it count, if it was said in the state of drunkenness? You didn't know, but you it didn't matter. The love of your life was here with you at his most vulnerable state.

"I love you too, Sam." You whisper back, kissing the top of his head.

He swallows against your throat and delicate long fingers trail from the side of your face down to your neck. The touch sparks heat under your skin but… No. Not like this. You tell yourself. If this is drunken mistake, you don't want Sam to wake up with one of the worst regret of his life.

You close your fingers around his. Bringing them to you lips, you kiss the tips gently and then push Sam away.

He looks at you with delirious eyes."Y/N, you don't want to?" The green orbs travel down to your lips.

You laugh nervously, "Believe me, I want to. But not like this."

He pouts at you adorably but nods in agreement as a yawn breaks out of him. You twist and catch the time on the clock: 3.07. Sam being an early riser would need all the sleep he could get.

Before you can suggest he hit the sack, he shakes his head, massaging his temple. Squinting his eyes, he turns his head away from you.

"Sam?" You ask, ignoring the panic in your voice.

"Ugh!" He moans softly, digging the heel of his palm into his head. You rush to other side and pry his hand away. His face is scrunched up looks a little green to you. Oh no!

Before you can suggest, Sam bolts to where he knows the bathroom is. You are on his heels. He doesn't bother turning on the lights as he bends over the toilet bowl and vomits.

He sinks to the floor, his right arm draped around the edge of the ceramic bowl as his body empties out his stomach. You drop down next to him, pulling the strands of out his hair as he belches. Up close, the sour smell of the foul liquid makes your stomach churn too but you sit beside him, rubbing his back as the nausea rides his body into exhaustion. He vomits until there is nothing more left to throw up.

"Go away, you don't have to see this." He says between the dry heaving.

But you are not leaving him to vomit his guts out alone. "It's okay, Sam. It's okay."

He rests his head on his arm taking a couple of breaths. Then, you help him sit on the edge of the bath tub. White knuckled, he grabs onto the edge as he waits for the nausea to subside. Confident that he wouldn't collapse or anything, you take that time to flush the toilet, the air already cleaner than before.

Grabbing a glass off the sink that you use to store toothbrush, you rinse it clean and fill it up with water. "Here, wash your mouth."

Sam carefully takes the glass from your hand. Sipping the water, he sloshes it inside his mouth and spits into the toilet bowl. He repeats it a couple of times until the acrid taste of vomit is completely removed from his tongue.

"Thank you, Y/N" He say avoiding your eyes.

"Hey", you cradle his face. Kissing the pointy tip of his nose you say, "don't mention it."

You let a couple of minutes pass before you offer to walk Sam back to bed. He sways a little on his feet but you are right next to him in case the nausea hits again.

He feels heavy as he leans against you but you manage to walk him to bed. He slumps down harder than you intended but since you both come out unscathed, you consider that a win.

"C'mon now, let's get you to bed." You unzip his hoodie and shrug it off his shoulders, the sleeve snagging a bit around his cast. Next, you unbutton his shirt and catch a hint of rosy blush on his otherwise pale cheeks. You feel heat rise up to your face but keep your focus on the task, one button after another.

The shirt comes off a lot more easily than the hoodie had and you are thankful for that. The last thing you want to do is jar his arm wrapped in a cast. Sam reaches for the hem of his black t-shirt but you gently grab his wrists. "Better to leave this on. It gets cold." You explain. Well, cold for him but certainly hot for you.

Sam doesn't fight you. He is sweet like that and respectfully takes a no for an answer. You push him down on the bed gently, setting the pillow under his head. The laces on his brown boots come undone quickly and in one single tug the boots are out.

Grabbing his belongings, you place his clothes on the dresser and his shoes next to the door. Out of habit, you check the lock on the doors before turning off the lights.

On your way to the bed you grab you phone and speed dial Dean.

"Dean?" You blurt after he answers your call on the second ring.

"Y/N, tell me Sam is with you." He begs. You know Dean would be worried. You are glad you called him sooner than later. No point prolonging the man's suffering.

"Yes. Showed up drunk a couple of hours ago."

"I'm on my way." He says and you can hear the jingle of the keys in the background. "I am an hour's drive away from Driftwood."

"Dean, I know you are worried but Sam is fine. He just fell asleep." You look over at Sam's still form. "Why don't you come tomorrow morning? Preferably late morning? Breakfast is on me."

Dean sighs but doesn't argue. "Yeah, alright. As soon long as Sasquatch is okay." The line goes dead as he hangs up.

By the time you are back to the bed, you can hear Sam snoring softly. You tug the comforter over his miles long body and snuggle next to him, enjoying the warmth and the scent of pine and mint soap that is so deliciously Sam.

A cry wakes you up later in the morning. Sam is moaning next to you, seemingly trapped in a nightmare. A sheen of sweat covers his face. "Sam, baby, wake up!" You try to jostle him out of the deep sleep.

His eyes snap open, tears overflowing. He pulls you close and crushes his lips against yours. For a man that just rose from a deep sleep, his breath is surprisingly not stale. And that makes you wonder if yours is. As urgent and tempting the kiss is, you pull away a bit conscious about the morning breath and a lot more concerned about Sam's panicked awakening.

"What happened?" You ask, licking your lips, secretly savoring Sam's taste.

He looks away and shakes his head as if hoping to wring off the nightmare. "Just a nightmare, only a nightmare." He doesn't go back to sleep though, instead sits next to you with his head in his hands.

Worry gnaws you, so you grab the glass of water from the night stand and offer it to Sam. "Let me get you an Advil."

He takes the glass and lets you run to the bathroom. You find the Advil in the medicine cabinet and place one on Sam's large palm. He swallows the tablet with a glass of water.

"Baby, you are scaring me." You confess, your hand kneading his taut shoulder.

He pats your hand and flashes a smile that doesn't bring out the dimples that dent his cheeks. Turning away from you, he curls on the bed. You drape the comforter over him, crawling under it. As much as you want to spoon him, you think it's better to give him a little space.

Hours later, when you wake up, the space next to you is empty. You find Sam putting on his shoes by the door, the rumble of Impala though faint, clearly audible.

"Were you leaving without saying goodbye?" The words spill before you can stop.

Sam freezes, a hurtful expression marring his handsome face. "Y/N, no. I didn't want to disturb you. You have done enough last night." But even as says this, he seems stoic or worse, numb.

"Bullshit!"

Sam crosses the distance between the door and you. Kissing your forehead, he mumbles a 'thank you' and a hasty 'take care of yourself'. And before you know it, he is out of the door.

It's quiet inside the Impala. Dean doesn't question Sam about last night. But Sam's mind is in chaos as he mulls over the nightmare: the one he didn't tell you about, the one where he saw you pinned to the ceiling of the motel as flames engulf you.

[possumkingluca]

dumb quotes from the strixhaven and now homebrewed after graduation campaign i'm in that i think about a lot with context only when it's necessary (and some from the campaign groupchat and conversations i have had with other members or the DM): "If you don't make a move I'll date him" (the person saying this had a boyfriend.) "Taste the rainbow bitch"

"I BECAME A ROTISSERIE CHICKEN" "FUCK YOU MELENTOR" "I hope the latex gets caught in your throat" "I wish my biological parents ate me" "A necromancer never dies" (right before dying) "I HAVE A PIPE BOMB" "We're going to drag Grayson out of his office by his ankles" (right before finding him tied up in a closet and finding out he has been being tortured for SIX FUCKING MONTHS) "I want to crack Grayson's spine like a glowstick" (Unrelated to previous quote and also completely unprompted) "That is NOT a kobold, that is john from lit 101" "Just pocket change to you guys" (1,000 PLATINUM???) "Go play with your boy toy of a lizard" "Stop running away and give me a fair fight" (person saying this literally was incapable of taking damage. I am not exaggerating. we had no other choice than to run away like sissy little babies because WE COULD NOT DAMAGE HIM.) "YOU LEFT ME IN THE SAND"

"Should've put it in a wig" (zombie) "He's gonna call me a whole swear word :(" "Mr. Alex I don't feel so good" (while becoming a rock) "You'll never amount to anything" (uncalled for)

"Not if i'm fast enough" (frequent) "Stop bullying the blind guy" (FREQUENT) "The seahorse fortnite dances" "WHY DOES HE LOOK LIKE A DISEASED MR BEAN" "We need to take away this guy's balls" "You forgot Alex's half shaven beard" "Get out of my house" (frequent) "Slaad jerky" "Teeth chandelier" "Aero works on something with Nora, Alex has a heartwarming moment, Alok.. cuts his hand open, AND RAMPART'S GOING TO WAR." "Friendship ended with KACKLES Now MINA'S CREATURE FROM THE ABYSS is my best friend" "Fuck you" "I'd rather not see that" "azazel kinda hot, hopefully quentillius's type" "🤨" "YOU ARE NOT TAXIDERMYING AN ENTIRE ADULT DRAGON AND PUTTING IT ON MY HOUSE" "Funeral Outfit" "You look drop dead gorgeous" (actual compliment) "Don't patronize me." "We're just discussing how Azazel doesn't have any friends" "OH GODS HE WAS RIGHT ABOUT THE FROGS" "FOR GRANDMAAAAAAAAAA" "STOP MAKING DRAZHOMIR CRY" (FREQUENT) "...do you think quentillius would care if I trashed his dorm and left a puddle of blood on the carpet?" "YEAH?" "Quenzazel" "you are not supposed to encourage this" "You want to kiss him ON THE LIPS" "Aurora's the only one who won't psychoanalyze me" "I WANT MY FRIENDS BACK" "Is this Rampart's friend?" "NO" "He's fine-" "Oh thank god" "But-" "NO." "Don't eat it" (frequent) "I have interacted with Larine like 4 times and we are best friends" "I almost died saving a man I knew for 5 minutes" "Me and Urzmaktok are out of a job! :D Strixhaven shut down! :D" i will add more. that is a threat.

[catchyhuh]

Oh god I am so in love with the way you write these, I’ve smiled like an idiot reading all of them. I laughed aloud at the idea of Goemon returning someone’s kid only for them to suddenly be a master of stealth.

If by any miracle you catch this ask and feel like thinking about it; do you have any opinions on what jobs the gang might be keeping should they belong in a universe that is totally mundane? Are they all interlinked/do they keep well out of eachothers’ way, has Lupin ever managed to stay employed for over a month etc. etc.

:,) I’d love to hear your takes on this simply because I think about it a lot. I think it’s an interesting character study.

i pride myself on my thoughts either being true or funny so it warms the lupin sized hole in my lupin sized heart that i am hitting one of those notes at least SO THANK YOU SO SO VERY MUCH LET’S TALK ABOUT MORTGAGES AND SHIT

lupin:

lupin. does not change that much as a person. like demeanor, personality-wise, he's still loud, giggly, smug even when it's unjustified, he’s just slightly less main-character-y about it, but he’s still the guy that says goodbye to everyone in the starbucks before he leaves and for some reason everyone feels compelled to say it back

jumps from job to job BUT. there was ONE time he got employee of the month. he was a solid olive garden waiter. but maybe he was just getting those favor points for being too lazy to bother the table refilling water every two minutes, and the little magic tricks he did were cute, and frankly, lupin is just a memorable name that you’d bring up if someone asked about the service there. honestly he only worked there to sneak bites of the pasta and because he thought the getup was sleek

jigen was his neighbor as a kid, and honestly they didn’t immediately like each other until they were like 15ish and caught each other trying to sneak out of the house after they’d both been grounded for completely separate events. they thought it was funny and hung out that night and after that they started to ACTUALLY grow close. nowadays they’ve got that “we’ve known each other for two decades and we’re still as close as ever” type thing everybody wishes they had, and they catch up about a week on average if they don’t just normally bump into each other. they were prob even roomies at some point

jigen:

i can very easily see his like mundane normal life being oddly content. this is maybe weird but i’m getting like. an everything-repairman here. he still has that gruff, doesn’t totally want to be here vibe, but he’s so damn good at like carpentry and mechanics that his yelp review average is pretty good! like hey. if your washer works again your washer works again. it just took two and a half hours of perfect silence with this guy sitting in your home.

as a result, jigen is unusually the tie between fujiko and goemon to lupin. he did some work at their places of business, mentioned this woman who barely looked up to wave when he came in to fix the lights, and then this man who wouldn’t STOP keeping his eyes on him once he came in, watching him like a hawk, and lupin was like wtf. weird people. unrelated uh where did you say they worked and what were their names, heights and zodiac signs?

definitely the porch guy. y’know the neighbor everyone had at some point who just gets home and sits on the porch for like three hours. jigen is that guy. the funny thing is cuz of his hat (which. maybe is like a baseball cap now idk the fedora seems unfitting for standard average joe life) nobody can even tell he’s fallen asleep twenty minutes in and isn’t actually casually keeping watch over the street. classic jigen move

fujiko: 

the funny thing is. honestly aside from the theft and espionage her CURRENT life could translate pretty well. there’s no cap to the discord kitten grindset. BUT SHE’D NEVER STOOP THAT LOW LMAO she's probably just chatting up the usual camps of nepo babies trying sooo hard to impress people and old men that miiiight write her into the will

i think she’s got a gig at a bridal shop/just a formal dress shop in general. she’s very interested in the way trends change and the sheer amount of bank people are willing to lay down just because of a brand? like she got her boyfriend last year to buy her this prada bag but that was someone ELSE’S problem, not hers! 9 times out of 10 she’s just doing her job but if she slowly starts to actually click with a client she’ll guide them to where they can find some nice jewelry that’s still quality but not highway robbery

still in that schrodinger’s relationship with lupin, it’s just, slightly more communicated between them here. if you asked if she had a boyfriend, she’d probably say no, but after spending a bit of time talking to her you notice that she keeps bringing up this one specific guy she used to be with, kinda like she. is currently with him? and then lupin comes in like “hey bbg i brought you some panera for your lunchbreak! they were outta the soup you like at the first one so i ran by two <3” and she’s like “thank you darling just set it on the table over there!” and he leaves. and you just stare at her. no further conversation on the matter transpires

goemon: 

oh god it’s so hard for me to imagine him being some average guy. first thing that came to mind is his hair is still that long, he just keeps it tied back for convenience’s sake and when he lets it down everyone’s like oh shit!! he’s kinda rocking that! also tends to wear big cardigans and coats to like. evoke the imagery of his usual attire Wait those are more character redesign notes than anything let's get back on track here

what job would fucking OHHH A MUSEUM GUY?? not really the sharing history with people half but like, keeping artifacts clean, organizing displays, having all that knowledge in his head but just not really telling anyone lol IT’S NOT THAT HE’S BOTHERED by the idea of throwing a little knowledge on the patrons, he just gets into so much of the nitty gritty that the average person has no idea how they went from talking about wood carvings to erosion on the shore of shizuoka. on that note are we set in japan here? uhhhhhhhhhhhhh?hhhh?? maybe

only really consistently hangs with jigen, and really, it’s because of jigen’s repair gig. museums break a lot! goemon doesn’t really mesh with too many people upfront, so he’s very interested in why he has some gut reaction to jigen despite only having spoken to him for two hours total in the last month. over time they’d become actual friends, but it’d take a bit for him to reach the “this is my man lupin and the purse with legs is his broad” introduction and then the way he WORDS that introduction starts an entire fight that leaves goemon absolutely baffled at how these people are. maybe friends? in time he warms up to them though, but maybe it’d take some unusual bonding experience, like a camping trip that immediately went south

zenigata:

saying he’d be a cop is BORING he wouldn’t be a COP. … there’s a distinction between a cop and a private investigator alright? BUT NO REALLY LET’S HAVE FUN WITH THIS yknow what would suck but really be funny. boring job. 9 to 5 office shit with nothing to do all day. oh he’d hate it, he’d be like pacing the room and shit just waiting for an excuse to actually DO something cuz its so fucking DULL in this FUCKING BEIGE BUILDING. like that bob's burger's bit where he has a nightmare about working in accounting or whatever

the story in the og manga was that somehow lupin and zenigata (and i believe fujiko too?) met in college. which. hey man the numbers could line up and frankly it sounds hilarious so i’ll buy that. he runs into him time to time just organically and  still doesn’t like him a lot lot but it’s more of a personality thing than anything else. and without the occasional heroics their original life has, zeni doesn’t get to see the actual good potential for a kind person like he has before so despite them having less reasons to beef HE LIKES LUPIN EVEN LESS IN THIS WORLD. maybe he’ll come around eventually 

sorry to keep going on this train of thought but really he’d be so different from his actual self just because of the different circumstances that it's really interesting to me. internally he’s the same but being subjected to the crazy shit in the franchise (strangely enough) kinda softened him up externally, but THIS zenigata doesn’t have that. so he’s like, polite to strangers and all. holds the door open for you. but he’s just so BITTER inside about how much more interesting things COULD be, like there’s envy there about how the gang doesn’t seem bothered by anything and has fun almost every day he happens to see what they’re up to. how does that even make sense?! SORRY THAT’S NOT REALLY FUN I DUNNO WHAT'S POSSESSED ME HERE just give him some time, some weirdo event will happen and it’ll knock everything within him back into place as we know him normally. he just needs the right insane motivation to fire up that deranged part of him that’s been lying dormant for a few decades

it just occurred to me i never mentioned mortgages once. damn

[electrasev5nwrites]

Ninja Daily: Clarity 4

"This doesn't make any sense," Naruto insisted, not for the first time. Karin blinked bloodshot eyes, forcing down the urge to shake him until he stopped pacing like a lion at a zoo. That would hardly be very considerate or caring, considering the circumstances.

But watching him was making her feel sick.

Or hell, maybe she was nauseous for other reasons. Like thinking about what had probably happened to her cousin. Sure, Aiko was a brat, but that didn't mean she deserved whatever a rogue nutjob would unleash on her.

"Uchiha Madara? He'd be over a hundred years old! He should be feeding worms, not trying to get back at Konoha. What would he want from Aiko? What's the point?" Naruto stressed, pulling at his hair with a grubby fist, apparently not caring that nails were tucked between his middle and index fingers. He was still holding the hammer in his other hand.

Sasuke made a noncommittal sound, eyes even darker than usual. He was doing the best job of maintaining the illusion of working. None of them cared in the slightest about constructing the third house of the day.

Resentfully, Karin kicked at a bit of patio stone, and wished everything was on fire so she could go home.

'Look at me, I'm so handy,' she sneered. 'That's what Konoha is known for now. We get our asses kicked and our village razed all the time, but no worries, because we're all master craftsmen from all the practice we get rebuilding. Our client list is going to suffer as soon as someone thinks to mock us for being rubes with a bi-monthly invasion.'

She hadn't yet shared her analysis of the likelihood of someone thinking to use that rhetoric against Konoha. Probably Kumo, actually.

That was a near-heroic feat in itself, if anyone asked Karin. They didn't, of course, because everyone else was too busy to care that she hadn't signed up for a career in construction. She almost wished the supply train of shinobi and civilians hauling in lumber and other materials from various locations in Fire Country was less efficient.

'Practice makes perfect, though, so of course this is down to a science.'

At least she got to stop for a while whenever she ran out of materials. Poor Yamato had the worst deal, if she were to be fair about assessing the situation. He could build entire homes in minutes, albeit odd ones without a single nail or joint. He'd been worked mercilessly to raise the highest priority buildings until his chakra levels were barely above what it took to maintain consciousness. And then he'd done the same thing the next day.

"Are you two even listening?" Naruto demanded, voice breaking a little.

"Of course we are," Sasuke snapped, dropping the wood he'd been nailing with a clatter and wheeling on his teammate. "You won't stop repeating things we already know. Give it a rest! Whining won't bring her back. We can't do anything now, Naruto. So just stop." He took a deep breath. "Stop," he repeated raspily, glancing down and bending to pick up the plank he'd just dropped.

Karin swallowed, clenching her jaw and breathing in deeply through her nose. She just felt raw and angry, like water being poured over a sunburn. At least she had the restraint not to bite Naruto's head off.

Naruto was irritating the hell out of her too, but that didn't mean she was unaffected.

'Not like what I feel could compare to him,' she thought guiltily, wiping sweat off her temple before it rolled down her cheek. 'I've never had a twin. They were together all their lives. Losing that would be awful.'

Granted, she'd never seen them spend all that much time together. Nothing like the time she spent with Hinata. Aiko had Naruto over for dinner every week, and came over to the house in the mornings sometimes, but other than that… Well, she never seemed to seek him out for things unrelated to training.

'It's not like she ever really seeks anyone out, unless she needs something or has something specific in mind,' Karin thought, guilty for the observation but too logical to lie to herself. Aiko just wasn't social. She didn't seem to feel lonely and seek out human company. (Except Sai, who hadn't been proven to technically count as 'human company') It was weird and a little off-putting. That didn't mean she deserved to be kidnapped.

And tortured, probably. Honestly, it was unlikely that she'd survive the week. Statistically speaking, if they didn't receive some sort of ransom note by tomorrow, it was almost certain that her captor had no intention of keeping Aiko around for anything more than information. Joke's on him, Karin thought bleakly. He won't be getting any of that.

Of course, if the kidnapping was more personal, as the recurring interest made it seem, it was probably about revenge instead. Aiko had stolen two jinchuuriki from Akatsuki and made them look incompetent. It wasn't unreasonable that he could think to restore some of that reputation by proving it had been a fluke.

All that indicated was that Aiko would meet a much messier end, to be honest.

The only possibility where there was a reasonable likelihood (and by reasonable, Karin meant above ten percent, based on historical records of capture by enemy forces) of getting Aiko home alive was that Madara wanted to ransom her back for Naruto. And that excluded any possibility involving Naruto being handed over, because Tsunade would never let that happen. No, that chance came from the hope that Madara would make a mistake that allowed them to trace a path back to him, or that they would be able to overwhelm him at the supposed exchange site. Improbable and optimistic at best.

They'd know soon enough, she suspected. If Madara was going to kill Aiko after having made such a point of walking into Konoha's stronghold twice, he would extend that theatricality to making it obvious that she was dead. No shallow grave for Aiko, Karin suspected.

No. She was probably going to get strung up somewhere very public, to make a point about Konoha's weakness. Fucker.

As scientific and impartial as Karin liked to think she was, she shied away from any thoughts about possibilities that Madara had other reasons to want to keep Aiko alive and with him. She didn't want to think about Aiko being used against Konoha somehow, or being used in general. Her very first thought when his stalking had been made known was that there was a carnal interest involved, if she were honest. But god, he was older than dirt. That couldn't be it. It was too horrible.

Karin shuddered. Best not to mention any of that to Naruto. His imagination was clearly torturing him, but she didn't think that her estimation of different probabilities would soothe his mind at all. It might be kindest not to know.

They settled into a sullenly businesslike rhythm, working as the morning sun fled into painful heat at midday. A lot of the people working nearby drifted away in shifts to escape burns and dehydration.

A sudden up-shot in tension alerted the team that something had happened. Sasuke straightened, frowning slightly at the way the crowds staggering down the street with supplies cringed closer to the building faces being put up and repaired.

"Come on," he said shortly, abandoning his post.

The other two followed without a complaint, craning their heads.

"Are those… Kumo-nin?" Naruto asked skeptically, tilting his head slightly and putting his dirty hands on his hips, leaving blackened handprints on the low-slung green pants he was wearing to work in.

"Must be," Karin breathed, giving the small crowd a gimlet stare.

'I should have been paying more attention. They're not exactly blending in with the civilians. It's not like I know every Konoha nin's signature, but I should know everyone that strong…'

And the intruders really were strong. Actually…

"That's the Raikage," Sasuke said very quietly, eyes slightly narrowed at the tan giant wearing white everywhere but on his muscular chest.

'That's bad. That's really bad,' Karin realized. 'Does Kumo know that Sasuke's brother was the one who killed the eight-tail jinchuuriki? Because that would be a teensy bit awkward, now that Itachi's been reinstated.'

There was really only one way to find out.

The enormous man flanked by a grim-faced shinobi on either shoulder seemed to look over at their group. His eyes scanned over Karin without interest, but Naruto stiffened and firmed his gaze in a way that told her he definitely felt scrutiny. The slender blonde man next to the Raikage leaned over slightly to say something quiet that garnered an abrupt and not entirely kind bark of laughter.

"I don't like the way he's looking at you," Sasuke said quietly, moving ever so slightly in front of Naruto and raising his chin slightly in defiance.

The Raikage actually laughed at that defensive gesture, but at least he and his retinue continued walking past without comment.

For a moment, the only sound was Sasuke's teeth gritting and murmurs beginning in the crowd. Then Karin folded up the floor plans and shoved them in her pocket, before jerking her head towards Hokage tower.

"Let's go," she said darkly. "I want to know what's going on."

"Ummm…"

The other two stopped and looked at Naruto, wary of his uncharacteristic hesitation.

"We should probably clean up first," he said sheepishly, holding out his blackened, scraped fingers. "It's one thing to barge in on a meeting above our clearance, but another to do that when we stink. The old lady might actually murder us for embarrassing her like that. Our place is closest—I have some stuff you can wear, Sasuke-bastard."

The Uchiha grunted agreement, clearly more interested in haste than presentation.

Karin only felt a little guilty about abandoning her work in the civilian housing district to go home. It wasn't surprising that the central areas had suffered the most. Since paranoid, isolationist shinobi were most likely to live on the outskirts of the city (and were least inconvenienced by a long walk to the business and market districts), the military population was much less affected by the worst of the structural damage.

In other words, the empty Uchiha district and the Uzumaki house were both mostly fine, once debris had been pulled off the roofs and the broken windows had been replaced. They were livable, even if ugly and battered.

'I wonder what Kakashi-sensei and Yamato-taichou are doing.' Karin hurriedly scrubbed at her hair, cursing the filth that turned into mud in the shower drain. 'They both lived downtown. I bet there's nothing left. I think they've both been dressing out of the warehouse, so that probably means that nothing was salvageable.'

That must be awful. Should she ask? See if they needed space? Sasuke had much more room to offer, but there was still one empty room here.

(Karin was lying to herself. She was not going to ask because she didn't want to see what Naruto said if she offered out Aiko's room, no matter that it wasn't being used).

She tried not to stare too much at the way Naruto's standard issue blue pants and short-sleeve top fit Sasuke. The boys were wearing identical outfits, but it looked nearly indecent on Sasuke. Neither of her boys had very big builds, but Sasuke had a little more bulk than the blond. That translated to a rather tight fit in Naruto's tailored muscle shirt.

'Now is not the time, you insufferable pervert,' Karin told herself. She painted on a grim, professional mien, and tossed her damp hair over her shoulder before pushing her way to the front of the group and leading them to Hokage tower. Hopefully the boys would think that she was eager to get to work, instead of resisting the urge to ogle.

It was a damned shame that the Raikage had showed up at such an awful time. Konoha was disheveled. If they'd been anywhere near organized, then Sasuke would have already known the man was going to be in town.

In other words, Tsunade must be very stressed and distracted.

The Hokage was putting on a good front, however, when the trio made their way to the upscale bank that was serving as their administrative center for the moment.

"That's unnecessary," Tsunade said bluntly. The pale blond bodyguard turned to give Karin of all people an oddly scathing look when Shizune let the group in, but no one else paid them much attention. "Ame is no longer in control of the group responsible for the recent aggression. Punishing the survivors serves no purpose."

'That's awfully generous,' Karin thought doubtfully. There was probably something she was missing. Tsunade-sama wasn't that altruistic.

The Raikage sneered, giving a dismissive glance over the newcomers. Sasuke calmly met his gaze, moving to stand by Tsunade's shoulder. He actually belonged here, as her apprentice, and he looked comfortable. The Uzumaki, on the other hand, were obviously riding in on Sasuke's coattails.

'Not completely true. If Tsunade-sama really does have any intention of training Naruto as a possible successor, it's not unreasonable for him to be here. Course, that just leaves me as the intruder…'

Ah well. She didn't mind being rude. If they really cared, someone would kick her out.

"I was promised that Ame and Akatsuki would pay for what they did." Stubbornly, the Raikage cocked his head at Tsunade. He looked hilariously misplaced in the red velvet chair that had been scrounged up from somewhere.

"I never said that we'd take punitive action against Ame as a whole," Tsunade protested crossly. "What more do you want? Akatsuki is nearly finished. We need to hunt down the stragglers."

"Your representative guaranteed that I would have a chance to…" The enormous man sneered slightly, though the expression looked oddly fond. "How did she put it? Bury the fuckers ten feet down? There may have been something about burning Ame to the ground and dancing on the ashes." A shrugged dissidently, leaning forward ever so slightly. "What about that promise, huh?"

Something cracked in Tsunade's composure. "My represent- Oh, hell," she cursed fluidly.

The dark-skinned man with nearly white hair lurking at the Raikage's left shoulder looked scandalized.

"You mean Aiko," Sasuke said flatly. The tension in the room instantly ratcheted up. Karin made a grab for Naruto's hand, as if hoping to prevent him from doing anything risky. The tension in his muscles was obvious, but he didn't shake her off. "Unfortunately, Uzumaki Aiko is missing in action. So it is impossible to confirm your account with her. She was not alone when she made this offer, was she?"

Shizune sighed, swaying slightly. "I'll go get Hatake-san."

"Get Yamato, he'll be easier to find and he needs a break," Tsunade corrected, rubbing at her temple while the young woman bowed slightly and left.

The blonde man at the Raikage's right side looked so amused at the bad news that Karin seriously considered lunging over and punching him. By contrast, the Raikage was frowning.

"You lost her?" Displeased, he shook his head slightly. "You really are incompetent. I didn't think you would actually lose track of the Fourth Hokage's kid. Is that why this one is here, then?" A jerked his head toward Naruto. "The spare? How long until you get this one killed too?"

'He's trying to provoke us. Be calm. Be calm.'

Nope, she still wanted to rip off his stupid tacky belt and shove it down his throat after she used it to bludgeon him black and blue.

"She's not dead," Naruto said calmly, looking bizarrely unperturbed. "I'll be sure to convey your concern about her well-being when I next see her, though. I'm sure Aiko will appreciate your interest."

'What?'

The white-haired bodyguard might have been choking down a laugh, and he couldn't even see the flabbergasted expression on his kage's face. It was pretty glorious.

A let out a long breath, narrowing his eyes in a contemplative glare. Naruto stood straight, completely unaffected as far as the eye could tell. Karin cautiously disengaged her hand from his, not wanting to undermine the attitude he had going on at the moment.

"Well, that apple fell a little closer to the tree," A condescended grudgingly. "You look a lot more like the fourth Hokage, and you sound more like him too. Are you the smart one, then?"

Naruto, smart?

Well… he certainly wasn't stupid, but Karin had never thought of him as academically intelligent. He thought well on his feet, and he had both social and creative intelligence. Was that what the Raikage meant?

"Nope," Naruto smiled, and the tension in the room instantly fled. "But that's what I have Sasuke and Karin for."

"What am I, furniture?" Tsunade asked dryly. Karin wasn't fooled. The older woman was pleased that Naruto had managed to undercut the tense atmosphere.

Naruto wasn't quite magical enough to fix everything, however. After another twenty minutes of arguing, the Raikage stormed out with an anxious Shizune on his heels directing him towards the temporary 'diplomatic suite' where he would be staying the night.

Tsunade sighed heavily, slumping as soon as he was out of sight. "What a mess," she groaned. "I don't need his war-mongering right now. He really wants to storm the border himself."

"Why don't you want Ame punished?"

The blonde cracked one eye open to give Sasuke a tired look. "Isn't it obvious?"

Sasuke huffed, amused. "I thought you might want to monologue. Yes, it's obvious. The Raikage won't give up the territory once he's done with it. That would mean that one of our worst enemies would have a base very close to our center of power, one that was right next to the other large country out for our blood. Right now we have the protection of a three-country alliance, but we won't have that forever. We can't afford to let Kumo have Ame."

"Got it in one."

Appalled, Naruto opened and closed his mouth before he found words. "So Akatsuki is just going to get away with what they did, because we're too worried about Kumo being a danger in future?"

"No," Sasuke rejected. "Akatsuki itself will be punished, and Ame is going to be crippled for years to come. They're hardly getting off scot-free. They'll be paying diplomatic sanctions-"

"Crippling sanctions," Tsunade interrupted darkly.

The brunet nodded agreeably. "Right, they'll basically be giving us everything but their kidneys."

"And that's not good enough for the Raikage?" Karin ventured. "What more could he want?"

Tsunade gave her a pitying look that made Karin feel very young and small. "Revenge. Or justice, as he feels. He blames Ame for B's death."

"That's not completely unjustified," Sasuke muttered.

"Not completely justified, either," Naruto pointed out wryly. "That was your brother specifically, wasn't it? Technically on Konoha's orders to follow Akatsuki's orders, even if we didn't know it at the time. If that comes out…"

"We can't hand Itachi over, either," Tsunade groaned. "So stop being so damn fidgety, Sasuke. I'm not throwing your precious brother to the wolves. No, we're claiming that he was our man on the inside all along and that was why the invasion went so smoothly. No one is going to like it, but they won't disagree, either, since Itachi never did anything particularly offensive in his tenure in Akatsuki. As far as the public knows, anyways."

"Really?" Yamato asked sullenly, leaning on the doorjamb. "You mean he did nothing particularly offensive except attacking Jiraiya-sama and Naruto multiple times in an attempt to kidnap Naruto, or putting Kakashi-senpai and Aiko in the hospital?"

"Nothing offensive to anyone but Konoha," Tsunade amended, while Sasuke exchanged an uncomfortable expression with Naruto. They were probably going to have to talk that one over at some point. Then she scowled. "What took you so long? And did Aiko really promise the Raikage that he was going to get to exhaust his aggression on Ame?"

Yamato took a moment to answer, scratching thoughtfully at his chin. "I think there was something about burning it down? Which would be pretty hard, on account of the damp, but in her defense, she may have been unfamiliar with the climate."

Karin groaned.

"I suppose it could have been hyperbole," Yamato added with an air of contemplation, squinting slightly. "She sorta started by threatening Kumo if they didn't leave Naruto alone. That was where the burning thing came from, pretty sure. And then it just got transferred to the discussion of Ame. So technically, I don't think she promised that." He blinked, as if realizing the room was full of other people. "Does that help?"

No, that did not help. There was a moment of appalled silence.

"Good thing you didn't diplomatically empower anyone hotheaded with a flair for the dramatic," Sasuke commented mildly. "That would have been bad."

Tsunade crumpled up a paper and tossed it at his head in response.

Without opening her eyes, Aiko breathed deeply. Her bedroom still retained a bit of a dusty smell that made her nose itch, but it was beginning to seep with the scent of the shampoo and weapon polish that Obi had provided for her.

Obi was a liar.

Or at least, he was leaving something crucial out. Aiko rolled over and buried her face in her pillow, slinking her arms underneath the cool fabric.

It seemed a lot more likely that her nightmares and dreams were fragments of memory than that they were total coincidences. She'd brought up a couple of them, spaced days apart so that Obi wouldn't know she was having the dreams every night. He had claimed not to recognize what she was talking about. Either Obito was lying about being close to her (because he really should have known something about her personal life) or he was lying about not recognizing the situations she mentioned.

'Still, I suspect that it would be unwise to let on.'

She liked Obito, she really did. He was kind to her, and smart, and he helped her with all sorts of things. That didn't mean she was blind to the fact that she didn't really know what was going on, except that he now controlled every aspect of her day-to-day life, he was much stronger than she was, and that he had some sort of agenda for her.

Maybe she would go along with that agenda. Maybe she wouldn't. But she couldn't possibly help her situation by letting him know that she was suspicious of his intentions. If she was wrong, he'd be hurt. If she was right…

Well, she didn't even know what might happen to her. If he'd wanted her dead, she would be dead already. There had to be other things she had to fear, but Aiko didn't know what the hell they were.

'It might have been easier to stay in Konoha,' Aiko thought wryly. 'I probably would have figured out that they were hostile about the time I found myself strapped down with thumbscrews in my face. Would be nice to know where I stand with someone.'

But that ship had sailed.

Regretfully, she heaved her lazy carcass out of bed and rifled through the (approximately seventy billion) shiny plastic bags piled on the long-neglected furniture.

"I should probably put this away," Aiko mumbled, holding up …something, and squinting at it suspiciously. Maybe it was a scarf?

She didn't know what half this shit was or what she was supposed to deal with it.

"I get the feeling that Obi thinks I'm a kid," she remarked to an unimpressed dresser covered in a sparkly white table-runner.

It was just a fleeting suspicion, really, based on nothing more than the fact that the wardrobe he'd provided was rather heavy on flouncy skirts and high collars in pretty, bright colors. The inconsistency was odd. The man who was re-teaching her how to kill people –corpse corpse corpse—she shuddered—seemed to think she was an adorable kid.

'At least I'm sure he's not a pervert,' Aiko thought wryly, finally settling on a black skirt and a green button-up shirt with a high collar. 'That's one insidious motivation off the list of possibilities. And it does seem like he's fond of me. He's spoiling me terribly. If he really had no emotional attachment, he wouldn't go the extra mile, I think.'

As she slipped them on, she suspected that the white boots he'd provided had belonged to another kunoichi before, although Aiko had no idea who.

'Someone with big floppy feet,' Aiko thought meanly. And unfairly. She'd had to pad the shoes so that they weren't too big, but that probably had more to do with her than with their previous owner. Judging by the women she'd seen when Obito took her into town, she was a hopeless shrimp. Maybe there was a growth spurt in her future?

Because padded second-hand boots were not glamorous, and neither was the insidiously creeping suspicion that Obito was interchangeably acquiring her clothes from the child's and junior's sections.

It wasn't a thought worth lingering on.

The boots were in pristine condition, but they didn't feel stiff like the new equipment he'd gotten her did. Real shinobi gear was both expensive and hard to procure outside of a hidden village, from what she understood. The boots were the only thing in her wardrobe that appeared to be shinobi-tough, although they were well-disguised as merely pretty shoes.

'I like imagining that some poor woman is wondering what happened to her spare boots,' Aiko snickered. 'Obito, you silly creep.'

"See, you're adorable," were the first words out of his mouth when she trotted downstairs. "I told you to trust my taste." Aiko gave him a baleful stare.

"When did you get back?" she asked archly, tossing her hair as she settled against the counter. The motion would have been more dramatic if the mass of hair had cascaded or bounced or something. Unfortunately, she had an ugly explosion of tangles and knots that sort of jerked angrily.

The motion apparently drew his attention to her ill-maintained mop. Obito sighed, shaking his head slightly. "I just got here. Did you lose your hairbrush?"

Aiko blinked, hand frozen over the rather depleted fruit bowl.

'Hairbrush? What hairbrush?'

After a moment of racking her memory, she flushed self-consciously and patted at a tangle on her right shoulder. "Some girls don't brush their hair," she sniffed, tilting her nose up and randomly selecting a rather sad-looking orange.

'I remember that now. What happened to the hairbrush anyway? I haven't seen it in a while.'

The look on Obito's face implied that he didn't buy her lie. "You mean that you forgot. I thought that kind of thing was supposed to come naturally to girls," he drawled.

Aiko looked down and pressed her lips together, feeling strangely ashamed. It was hard to remember all the little things she was supposed to do.

She hadn't forgotten the humiliation that first night with the nurse who had helped her shower. Her impulse had been to say that she didn't need help—she knew enough to be certain that hygiene wasn't terribly difficult and that she should be able to handle it on her own. But when she was actually faced with the task at hand, Aiko had stared blankly at the arrangement of soaps and lotions she was supposed to use.

Could she just use one bottle and be fine?

No?

Well then. Was it shampoo and then conditioner? She was probably going to forget that at some point.What happened if she did it in the wrong order?

She was pretty sure that slathering herself in the scented chemicals deemed necessary by society wasn't meant to be actively stressful. She was getting better at it, though. The more she thought about it, the harder it was.

"Aww, hell. I'm sorry." Obito pushed that dumb mask that was always on his head up, exposing a slightly rueful expression. "It doesn't matter. Your hair looks exciting. Anyways, I have something for you to do today."

That perked her right up. "Really?" Aiko twisted to look at him, abandoning the fruit she'd been trying to peel with a plop onto the table.

He gave her a blank look for a moment before shaking his head slightly. "Yes, right." Oddly, he swallowed before he managed to gather his thoughts. "You'll be working with one of my associates. Zetsu should make sure that everything goes well. If worst comes to worst, he can contact me. I think you'll be fine," Obito added encouragingly.

'I should hope so. All you have me do is train.'

She gave him a thin smile instead of that bit of grumpiness. It wouldn't help anything. "So, what am I doing?"

Apparently reassured by her good attitude, Obito leaned back in his chair slightly and began twirling a kunai on his finger. "You'll be working to acquire monetary resources."

Aiko paused. Ruefully, she quirked an eyebrow at her comrade. He broke out into a sheepish smile. "Obiiii," she drawled. "You're telling me to replenish our coffers?"

He coughed. "Quite."

"That's not terribly glamorous."

"Nope," Obito agreed, popping the 'p' sound playfully. "But work often isn't. What do you think I do all day?"

'Steal cute shoes from giant women?'

She sighed theatrically, dropping the fruit onto the table and plopping down across from him. Aiko pursed her lips as she braced her chin on palm. After a moment, she tilted her head slightly, trying to convey pleading.

"That won't work," Obi said flatly. "I thought you wanted to work again? Ninja don't get to do only things that are fun."

"Ugggghhh," Aiko groaned, tossing her head back. "Fine. There goes my faith in humanity." She huffed. "So do I get details?"

"You're going to be answering a request for help that was communicated through some contacts of mine."

That was remotely encouraging. There was something a little romantic about swooping in to save the day. Was that what she and Obito did? Not bad.

"Help stealing an antique scroll. Seriously, this thing is ancient," Obito stressed, tapping his fingertips on the table boredly.

That was less encouraging.

"I'm a thief?" Aiko asked incredulously, scowling. "Seriously? Not even the cool kind of thief who does glamorous things, but a contractor?"

How boring, and businesslike.

Obito tossed his head back and laughed, flashing white teeth. "I may have left out the detail that you're stealing this back for the rightful owner."

"Oh." She blinked. "That… sounds okay, I guess. I think I could do that."

"Your confidence astounds."

Aiko scowled at his dry humor, and crossed her arms over her chest without paying any attention to how the added tension strained at the buttons of her shirt.

Obito flinched oddly.

"A-anyway, you'll have backup," he hurriedly assured her. "I'll introduce you to Zetsu-san when he gets here. Uh- he has the details. He'll walk you through it. But don't worry, you can do this. It's well within your capabilities, even now. Although to be safe, you should avoid using your real name. You don't want to be associated with a bad job. How about Masashi?" he teased.

Masashi. Righteous aspiration. It wasn't a bad name, exactly, but…

'A man's name? Fucking flattering. I don't know if that's worse than being told I'm likely to fail. Thanks, love.'

She gave him a black stare. Why did she hang out with this guy again?

That would be a thing worth knowing. She should look into that.

In response, he cleared his throat. "Yyyyeah. Um." Obito sucked in a self-conscious breath, aware that he was only digging himself a deeper hole and visibly desperate to change the topic. "So, are you going to do anything about your hair?"

That didn't help.

In the moment that Aiko considered leaping over the table and going for his throat, a rusty self-preservation drive kicked in. "Because I could do it for you?" he added weakly, wiggling his fingers. "And would like to very much?"

"Nice save," Aiko muttered forty seconds later, leaning back into the warm digits against her scalp as Obito finger-combed her hair. Even the frequent jolts of pain as his fingers caught on tangles couldn't bring down her good mood- she was all but purring. It turned out that her head was very sensitive. She whined unhappily when he gathered the mass in a slightly off-center tail at the top of her head and moved to awkwardly secure it with-

"Is that wire?" she asked incredulously, avoiding the urge to twist around to stare.

"What's wrong with wire?" her friend muttered self-consciously, withdrawing his hands like he'd been burnt. "Ninja wire has all kinds of uses."

It took a deep breath to calm down enough to formulate a coherent reply. "Obi?" He jolted guiltily at the nickname. "I'm pretty sure there's some sort of specialized product for tying hair."

"Maybe. A hair tie?"

She didn't really know for sure either. Apparently, personal grooming hadn't been particularly high on the list of priorities for her to remember.

I think I misplaced this omake? If it was in here somewhere before, I apologize. Had to rewrite.

Omake (Because Where Else Would Obito Think to Get Them?)

Haru jolted. It took a moment of nervous contemplation and steeling her nerves before she worked up the determination to peer around the corner into the room she was supposedly serving as an honor guard for.

The sounds coming from inside were just unseemly. She was almost certain that she was hearing muttering among the occasional thuds and clattering noises.

"Konan-sama?" She called, her voice breaking a little.

The only sound that could vaguely be termed a response was a thud that somehow managed to convey irritation. Haru flinched, and re-considered the wisdom of actually addressing Pein's Angel. She wasn't worthy. Frankly, she was still a little in awe of the woman had come back to claim leadership of Ame and asked for a few higher level shinobi to accompany her as she prepared to parley with the other leaders.

Still, without a direct answer, she was bold enough to step into the room.

That lingering awe was slightly shaken by the sight of her prospective kage on her knees, sweeping under the bed with her palms. All she could see from this angle was.. Haru flushed crimson, and looked away hastily. That wasn't dignified.

"My lady?" Haru croaked uncertainly.

Konan froze for a moment, with her hovering rear end tense and bare feet dangerously still. With quiet dignity, she backed out from under the bed and slowly lifted her torso, twisting to blink languidly at her minion. "I have misplaced my shoes," she said calmly, brushing a dust bunny off of her hair. "This is the third pair. I suspect conspiracy."

She had been previously unaware that Pein's Angel was crazy. Good to know.

[nearaceln]

The medication that my psychiatrist recently started me on, meant to aid in my depression, has caused my chronic insomnia to worsen to such an abhorrent degree that I find myself missing the former 4-5 hours I was getting on the prior medication meant to help the depression. The night shifts I work at my job probably don’t help much, either, in the soft defense of pharmacological distributors.

It is an odd sensation- waiting for a pager to go off, hoping it doesn’t. They don’t warn you that once you start, you will hear phantom pages for the rest of your goddamn life (seemingly; will correct if I ever stop hearing beeping that is not real).

I love my job. Well, I love my field, and I love what I do. The fact that my job has to exist is a cruelty. Peoples suffering could never make me happy (okay, perhaps a select few of those who have hurt me deeply. But those suckers have it coming and are unrelated to the folks I help treat).

Tonight a young-sounding 19 year old called. She was tearful, sniffling back something she didn’t want to (but also did want to) talk about. I won’t explore the content of her story, as it isn’t mine to tell, but I can say that the way I have learned to handle these calls is to tell the audience the things I wish someone would have told me, in this case, at 19. “It isn’t your fault. You did not deserve that. Not any of it. You sound bright, and kind, and even if you aren’t always, you still don’t deserve that. You are a person deserving of respect, kindness, goodness. I know we forget it sometimes about ourselves, but for a moment imagine you’re speaking to a friend. Would you tell them they didn’t deserve goodness? No. Of course not. Because it isn’t true. I am so sorry that those things have happened to you. It is not, however, a reflection on you. You’re here in spite of that. That is a power. It is a strength.” She asked “how do I fix it so I can sleep tonight?” And I rattled off some ideas like journaling things that make her happy. I added, knowing 19 year old me would think “this is bullshit”- “I don’t mean some cliche shit about your life, the world, or the future. You can write about that if you want. It’s your list. I mean…the sheets you picked for your bed. The way the first bite of an apple tastes in the fall. The sunset. The smell of coffee. The feeling of finally getting to take your bra off. Your makeup off. The view at the top of a hike. Your dog. Your favorite nail polish shade. Your favorite socks. Words you like the sound of. The meal your mum cooked the best. Your grandmothers hands. That stuff.” She conceded, and wrote some of a list that she planned on finishing. Before I let her go, I reminded her “you are only 19. You have not even yet met everyone who is going to love you - your kindness. Your heart. Your intellect. Your drive. There are so many people out there who will listen to your story and care about it. And the things that happened, they don’t define you. Your strength in calling tonight, does. Your willingness to be vulnerable, to stay alive, to write a list with a crazy lady on the phone. That’s you. And, for what it’s worth, I think it’s wonderful. So, while the world waits for the right moment for these people to arrive, you remember to call this line whenever you want. Seriously. I can be your temporary. And it won’t bother me for one single second. You’re not alone. I won’t let you be.” She ended the call by thanking me for my time and kindness, said she was feeling better, and that she was going to try to get some sleep.

As I hung up my phone I thought of the version of myself from a decade ago. She was so lonely. She lived in a one bedroom flat, had no friends, studied and worked, kept her head down. She would never believe that a future version of her could be anything different. And yet, here she is. Rather, here I am. Awake with crippling insomnia, still lonely at times, always keeping my chin up toward the sun.

I think of the home that I have built. I hear my husband snoring, finally resting. I look over at him. His mouth open slightly, brows furrowed, hair messy, one arm beneath his head and the other outstretched. He looks, in this moment, like I imagine he did as a young boy. I wonder what he needed to hear when he was; who didn’t say it to him; who did.

I have many dogs. Eight, to be exact. Having this amount of them means that at any given moment in my life I could easily reach out and Pat a dog. What a therapy I have unconsciously given myself. They sleep soundly beside me, so used to my insomnia that they only stir when my husband wakes up. Pavlov must have been right - my mental illness has conditioned not one, but a pack of dogs to not even notice the weight of a body being lifted off the bed, the sound of a door opening, the start of a car. I think of the life I have given them, and I know they have felt nothing but kindness. That alone seems intangible to me. A child of abuse grows to be an adult filled with enough trauma to make sleep a concept only read about, never experienced. An adult who worries at every moment when something will break; who hopes it is not her. An adult who knows how to hand out both cruelty and kindness equally well. Skilled tongue in both causing injury and kissing wounds. I choose kindness. Perhaps, just to be the opposite of my parents. Isn’t that what we all grow up wanting to be- just not our parents? Or perhaps because I know what it feels like to only be offered cruelty, and how small acts of kindness are but a candy you find hidden in your grandmothers purse after being told you cannot eat anything but cauliflower (By the way, I still hate cauliflower, mum). How you can suck on it for hours. While it doesn’t ease the belly cramps, it warms you. It keeps you alive for another day, hoping for another strawberry wrapped gift tomorrow.

I go pee, and I look in the mirror. I usually avoid this. My own reflection bothers me. I try to conjure the 19 year old me to tell her precisely what I told the girl from before. She doesn’t arrive. She died long ago. She resides in ashes throughout my bloodstream. Perhaps we are all made up of the versions of ourselves that could not survive.

The sun is coming up now. I look out the window of my home. Pet my dog (one of eight). Brush my fingers along my husbands forehead, try to comfort him from whatever nightmare is plaguing him. Admire him and the life we’ve built. My chin tilts toward the rising Sun. I have survived another night, and will survive another day, and I will once again choose kindness. If not for those in my life now, for the little girl residing in my veins who never had the chance to receive it.

-Ace

[islyingtoyou]

new beginnings, death, and peace.

[Tuesday, July 18, 2023]

it's not fucking fair.

he was to start his job from today. I went with him to his office. we talked for the entire 30-minute commute, and he was so excited to have such a high-end job right after college. we had a bit of cake that he'd baked and walked 10 minutes to his office. we're standing on the middle of the road divider when he gets a call. his grandfather is dead. dead.

i'm holding his hand, guiding him through the traffic. i'm scared he might run into the cars himself. I hug him when we're on the escalator. I hold his hand. he can't process it yet. he's still in shock. we stand outside the enormous 25-floor glass building spread over 10 acres. people walk past us laughing and talking, unaware of the tragedy that has just occurred. i let him stay silent for a while. he calls his mother. they're coming to pick him up. they have to leave for their grandfather's place. he has to talk to his boss. hopefully, he can get his documentation process done online. he talks of things unrelated. I let him.

he has to go. i disregard the people around and hug him. it takes him a while to respond, but he puts his arms around my waist. his breathing is shallow. he rests his head on my shoulders and takes a deep, shaky breath. he pulls back. i wipe a lone tear off his right cheek. we begin to walk towards the building. i kiss his hand. it's going to be okay soon, i tell him. he smiles at me, squeezes my hand, and walks away.

i stand watching until he's disappeared into the building. i want to stay right there until he gets out and goes off with his parents, but he told me to go home. i get on the subway and sit for many stops past my own. the music blasting from my earphones doesn't distract me. i can't help but think of how broken he looked. i call a mutual friend. i text my parents asking for advice. as i double back home, i text him about it, to let his emotions out, to feel, and know that i'm here for him. i tell him not to text me out of any sort of obligation, but to just let me know when he reaches the place.

i reach home and lie down on the bed. i can feel my heart breaking thinking of him and all that he has had to go through. I've never met his father's father, and yet i feel the loss as my own. i wish i could physically be there for him.

he tells me his father seems okay, except that he's driving at 150 km/hr, and he isn't sure if they'll make it out alive themselves. i pray for him. for his father. for his mother. for his grandfather's soul. they reach safely. i am over 300 kilometers away, and yet i prepare myself to be able to help him.

i don't hear from him for almost 12 hours. i spend my time in household chores and netflix. i had planned to work on his birthday gift, but this day seems like a wrong one to do so. I read about customs and last rites. i read about peace and the soul. i read about omens.

we talk around midnight. he's lying on the roof, watching the stars. arcturus and vega are bright tonight, he tells me. altair is pretty too, he says. i smile. it's soothing to me that my stars are comforting to him. i think back to the first day i pointed out stars in the sky, and he couldn't believe they were visible from a city like ours.

he says he's fine. that it was a rollercoaster of pain, observation, and acceptance. carrying the body barefoot as a pallbearer for over a mile, there was a strange feeling in him. it rained. the wood on the pyre is wet. it takes five hours for it to burn to ashes. the people stand and watch in silence. it took away the pain of loss, he said.

there are stories shared. he lived a fulfilling and happy life. they eat together in the evening - the first meal of the day. most of the extended family leaves. he stays with his parents, lying on the roof of their old house, looking up at the stars. he comes back tomorrow, he says. his parents will stay. he'll go back on the twelfth day.

he says he doesn't know what he would've done if i hadn't been there when the news came. i send a silent prayer to the gods for helping me be there at the right time. he says he thinks i'm special, and he's grateful to have me. i tell him i'm thankful to be there for him, for he's the love of my life. we smile. he has to go.

i remind him that sunrise is always going to come after a sunset, no matter how dark a night might be. i tell him i love him.

i sit in my room thinking of just the day before. we went to the temples to thank the deities for our blessings and to ask for guidance from the divine in times tough. i prayed for strength and success for him. for him to achieve every dream in life, be it with me or without. i prayed for his health, for bravery, and love. he's shown it all today.

i toss and turn, trying to sleep. it's three in the morning. i hug my pillow close. far away, maybe he's doing the same thing. maybe he's asleep. but the inability to sleep consumes me. it will continue to do so until i have him in my arms again, knowing he is safe. knowing i can help him.

my heart aches for him, and sometimes it feels like i can physically feel him and his emotions. today, there's conflict and sadness, but there's also peace. it seems as though tonight, he's finding another star to name.

.

pray for my love.

[hotforharrison]

Hi! Sorry in advance for my bad English! I wanted to get your opinion. Why do you think Harrison does so little in movies/series? Is he too picky about his roles or is there too much competition? Don't get me wrong. I understand that it's not easy being an actor and especially getting a part, but over the years hasn't he had an offer even for a minor role!!!? Sometimes I think he wants to do major roles and big projects, but not everyone is so lucky and by turning down small roles he misses his chance. I've been following him since 2017 and am really worried about his career. Only 2 series in 6 years (I'm not counting short films and 1 minute cameos in Tom's movies). Catch 22 is a good show, but Harrison is 10 minutes long. And the series "the regulars" was a flop, although I liked it. It's not a masterpiece, but it's not too bad either. I think there were big bets on this series, especially Harrison's, but in the end it was unlucky. And this year we have another series in which Harrison will have a small role. I just want the best for him! And a second question. I'm almost 99% sure that Harrison is auditioning for the role of Johnny Storm. He has said himself that he would like to play him and more than once. But what are the chances of him getting the role? He has very little acting experience and I'm afraid that's not in his favor. He has a great friendship and chemistry with Tom Holland and I think they would show it perfectly through Peter and Johnny if they ever crossed paths in the movies. And I know that Harrison and Tom stopped interacting on social media so that Harrison could develop as an independent person and actor. And that's the right thing to do. Because there will be those who will say that he gets roles because of his friendship with Tom. It doesn't work that way, though. And I'm glad he took that route. And I really wish him luck and lots of good roles!

Your English is wonderful!

He said that The Irregulars put him into a new bracket of acting jobs in the last interview he did, and he's mentioned auditioning somewhat recently, too.

He's also gone to some acting workshops that posted photos of their participants on Instagram, as recently as this past week, so he's obviously still interested in acting and working on honing his craft.

However, at the moment, he seems to be heavily involved in promoting the rum brand he cofounded, HAMA. There have been events, and he's made at least one appearance at an unrelated event where he was photographed with a bottle. He also took photos while he was in New York City of him holding a bottle in a variety of locations.

I wonder if he was in the US for audition(s) then. I don't know how that works these days. The role he took in the anthology series that's coming out later this year had a completely virtual audition process. He mentioned his height being brought up by someone who met him in person for the first time and thought he'd be taller.

I'm more heavily leaning toward him being picky about what roles he auditions for and being involved with multiple ventures.

If he has auditioned or is auditioning for Johnny Storm, I'm sending him all the good vibes. He does have a lead role in a Netflix series under his belt, which isn't a small role like his role in Catch-22 was, so hopefully that will help get him in the door.

It would be really cool to see him on the big screen with Tom! I don't really go to see movies in theaters very often, and I would definitely go see that.

But I very much hope he finds happiness in whatever he ends up doing -- whether that be acting, being an entrepreneur, or something else entirely.

[smoosnoom]

was this chapter happier? yes. did I cry anyway? no shit.

“It’s deserved, even, all this burning, if he were to be finally honest with himself, and he doesn’t flinch when the fiery water hits his face.” well, i hope it’s not a projection this time cause mike in this chapter reminds me of.. myself during my depressive episode🧍🏻‍♀️it’s my turn to self-project

“I’m not doing this anymore. I can’t.” i don’t think i said it last time but bc see mikes pov i kinda forget that will canonically is/was in love with mike. and he was trying to push his feelings away during this 4 years. maybe even longer.

“Max steps forward to violently punch Mike in the arm” love that max didn’t hug him. not her style at all

““Seize the day,” Dustin claims, and opens the door, the winter air creeping in.” did dustin become fan if dps or he just learn latin phrases for fun?

“All he has is a bare basement and a sinking feeling in his stomach. He feels vaguely sick.” just stopped to say it’s beautiful

“It stings when he confesses, “I miss you.”” well that was the first time i crying reading this chapter

“When Will returns, he has a styrofoam cup in his hands. “Here.”” he’s clearly hurt but that shows that he still cares and will care about mike no matter what. idk does it make sense?

“Will is almost quieter when he says, “I missed you, too.”” and that where i cried for the second time. i have a thing for “i miss u” ig

“There is, unfortunately, no Steve Harrington behind the counter to sneak them into the movies” i hope steve got real adult job

“Staying in Hawkins for a little before I figured out where I want to go next sounded pretty nice” oh i see where it’s coming

“Loved, he thinks, loved, appreciated, wished –“ “wished” hits HARD

““Of course, I did,” Mike says, not having checked behind the television. “On an unrelated note, I’ll be right back.”” this one made me giggle. but more cause of the thought that they’re coming back to their little bubble, starting to feel comfortable enough to joke around. and it’s happening naturally and pretty fast

““It’s so different down here,” Lucas notes” ok, somehow ive been waiting to tell my thoughts about basement till this moment. i.. don’t think empty walls r bad thing. i think it’s like the omen of the new beginnings? yeah, my old basement was cool but it’s time to make new memories. happier. without the burden of the past. it’s like rediscovering the place u used to visit exclusively with the people u don’t talk now.

““I enlightened him!” Dustin claims, sitting opposite of her, and El snorts beside Mike.” well dustin stays the party member with the best taste 😀

one last thing i wanted to say about this chapter is that ur style has changed. diffidently in a good way. i’ve mentioned one sentence that i like but tbh.. i could choose any of them and that would be true. and i had to check vocabulary more often

oh no 😭 IM SORRY FOR MAKING U CRY ALYA hopefully the next one it is Tears of Joy 🫶🫶

LMAOO if it helps . we can both self project . mom says it's my turn with the self projection

omg that is a Fantastic point bc mike doesn't know !!! at all !!!!!! i tried to make wills frustration obvious for u know . dramatic irony but also that it makes sense for mike even tho he doesn't know the full length of it all 🫡 im so happy u noticed omg

YEYY3A OMG i am so glad u think so too 😭 i rly couldn't write max hugging him it felt Wrong

HELNGPOY dustin dps fan in this au 🫶 it has no relevancy but idc !

thank u alya ☹️ ily

NOOO no more tears . writing only Happy from now on (🤞 no promises ...)

it does make sense !!!!! it does !!!!!!!!!!!!! they're both hurt but they also Care so much !!!!!!!!!!!!!!

characters admitting they miss each other no matter how much it hurts . it will always get to me too </3

HELEP yes steve and robin rooming together and attending to their Adult Jobs

alya i need u to shut down ur big brain so the final chapter IS A SURPRISE OK

wished !!!!! u get it !!!!!!!!!!

YAYYYYY im so glad u thought it was natural, i was kind of second guessing myself bc it felt like Maybe it's too quick for them to joke again . but whenever i meet up with friends i haven't seen in months or even years it is always so easy to slip back to who we used to be, you know ?

"it's like rediscovering" alya u absolute angel . my graham cracker . my vanilla latte . u get it U Get It oh my god it's alll about change !!!! and it doesn't always have to be bad !!!!!!!!!!

U LIKE PINEAPPLE ON PIZZA ????? FIRST THE FRIES AND MILSKSGKES 😭😭 ALYA WHY

im so flattered u think so !!!! i think i definitely took a different tone to this fic and im rly happy u noticed :] it means the world to me and im always so happy whenever u drop by my askbox with a Huge commentary like this 🫶 it means the world to me ive reread this like . nine times !!!!!!