#is that last one projecting? yes. is it true? also yes

[crimsonscloud]

karl marsten + text posts

[infiniteglitterfall]

know someone who enjoys horror stories? share this one! it's true!

hahahahahahahahahaha aarrggghhhhhhhhhh 3,000,000 deaths due to COVID-19 last year. Globally. Three million. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. The reason people are still worried about COVID is because it has a way of quietly fucking up your body. And the risk is cumulative.

I'm going to say that again: the risk is cumulative.

It's not just that a lot of people get bad long-term effects from it. One in seven or so? Enough that it's kind of the Russian Roulette of diseases. It's also that the more times you get it, the higher that risk becomes. Like if each time you survived Russian Roulette, the empty chamber was removed from the gun entirely. The worst part is that, psychologically, we have the absolute opposite reaction. If we survive something with no ill effects, we assume it's pretty safe. It is really, really hard to override that sense of, "Ok, well, I got it and now I probably have a lot of immunity and also it wasn't that bad." It is not a respiratory disease. Airborne, yes. Respiratory disease, no: not a cold, not a flu, not RSV.

Like measles (or maybe chickenpox?), it starts with respiratory symptoms. And then it moves to other parts of your body. It seems to target the lungs, the digestive system, the heart, and the brain the most.

It also hits the immune system really hard - a lot of people are suddenly more susceptible to completely unrelated viruses. People get brain fog, migraines, forget things they used to know.

(I really, really hate that it can cross the blood-brain barrier. NOTHING SHOULD EVER CROSS THE BLOOD-BRAIN BARRIER IT IS THERE FOR A REASON.) Anecdotal examples of this shit are horrifying. I've seen people talk about coworkers who've had COVID five or more times, and now their work... just often doesn't make sense? They send emails that say things like, "Sorry, I didn't mean Los Angeles, I meant Los Angeles."

Or they insist they've never heard of some project that they were actually in charge of a year or two before.

Or their work is just kind of falling apart, and they don't seem to be aware of it.

People talk about how they don't want to get the person in trouble, so their team just works around it. Or they describe neighbors and relatives who had COVID repeatedly, were nearly hospitalized, talked about how incredibly sick they felt at the time... and now swear they've only had it once and it wasn't bad, they barely even noticed it.

(As someone who lived with severe dissociation for most of my life, this is a genuinely terrifying idea to me. I've already spent my whole life being like, "but what if I told them that already? but what if I did do that? what if that did happen to me and I just don't remember?") One of its known effects in the brain is to increase impulsivity and risk-taking, which is real fucking convenient honestly. What a fantastic fucking mutation. So happy for it on that one. Yes, please make it seem less important to wear a mask and get vaccinated. I'm not screaming internally at all now.

I saw a tweet from someone last year whose family hadn't had COVID yet, who were still masking in public, including school.

She said that her son was no kind of an athlete. Solidly bottom middle of the pack in gym.

And suddenly, this year, he was absolutely blowing past all the other kids who had to run the mile. He wasn't running any faster. His times weren't fantastic or anything. It's just that the rest of the kids were worse than him now. For some reason. I think about that a lot. (Like my incredibly active six-year-old getting a cold, and suddenly developing post-viral asthma that looked like pneumonia.

He went back to school the day before yesterday, after being home for a month and using preventative inhalers for almost week.

He told me that it was GREAT - except that he couldn't run as much at recess, because he immediately got really tired. Like how I went outside with him to do some yard work and felt like my body couldn't figure out how to increase breathing and heart rate.

I wasn't physically out of breath, but I felt like I was out of breath. That COVID feeling people describe, of "I'm not getting enough air." Except that I didn't have that problem when I had COVID.) Some people don't observe any long (or medium) term side effects after they have it.

But researchers have found viral reservoirs of COVID-19 in everyone they've studied who had it.

It just seems to hang out, dormant, for... well, longer than we've had an opportunity to observe it, so far.

(I definitely watched that literal horror movie. I think that's an entire genre. The alien dormant under ice in the Arctic.)

(oh hey I don't like that either!!!!!!!!!) All of which is to explain why we should still care about avoiding it, and how it manages to still cause excess deaths. Measuring excess deaths has been a standard tool in public health for a long time.

We know how many people usually die from all different causes, every year. So we can tell if, for example, deaths from heart disease have gone way up in the past three years, and look for reasons. Those are excess deaths: deaths that, four years ago, would not have happened. During the pandemic, excess death rates have been a really important tool. For all sorts of reasons. Like, sometimes people die from COVID without ever getting tested, and the official cause is listed as something else because nobody knows they had COVID. But also, people are dying from cardiovascular illness much younger now.

People are having strokes and heart attacks younger, and more often, than they did before the pandemic started. COVID causes a lot of problems. And some of those problems kill people. And some of them make it easier for other things to kill us. Lung damage from COVID leading to lungs collapsing, or to pneumonia, or to a pulmonary embolism, for example. The Economist built a machine-learning model with a 95% confidence interval that gauges excess death statistics around the world, to tell them what the true toll of the ongoing COVID pandemic has been so far.

Total excess deaths globally in 2023: Three million.

3,000,000.

Official COVID-19 deaths globally so far: Seven million. 7,000,000. Total excess deaths during COVID so far: Thirty-five point two million. 35,200,000.

Five times as many.

That's bad. I don't like that at all. I'm glad last year was less than a tenth of that. I'm not particularly confident about that continuing, though, because last year we started a period of really high COVID transmission. Case rates higher than 90% of the rest of the pandemic. Here's their data, and charts you can play with, and links to detailed information on how they did all of this:

Here's a non-paywalled link to it:

https://archive.vn/2024.01.26-012536/https://www.economist.com/graphic-detail/coronavirus-excess-deaths-estimates

Oh: here's a link to where you can buy comfy, effective N95 masks in all sizes:

Those ones are about a buck each after shipping - about $30 for a box of 30. They also have sample packs for a dollar, so you can try a couple of different sizes and styles.

You can wear an N95 mask for about 40 total hours before the effectiveness really drops, so that's like a dollar for a week of wear.

They're also family-owned and have cat-shaped masks and I really love them. These ones are cuter and in a much wider range of colors, prints, and styles, but they're also more expensive; they range from $1.80 to $3 for a mask. ($18-$30 for a box of ten.)

[irrealisms]

i've seen a lot of people talk about mcyt as a constantly burning library of alexandria recently, and to some extent that's true. people are constantly deleting their blogs, going scorched earth with animatics, fanfics, etc., that they made. but i've also seen people (three in the last few days!) make this claim about VODs, when talking about large fandoms like DSMP and QSMP, and.... guys. that was true in 2020. that's not true anymore. archivists have been working tirelessly for years now to make sure that isn't true.

the dsmp VOD masterlist is here. in november 2020, it's missing 16 VODs, if i am counting correctly--which is still a fairly small minority, but it's a lot, and it sucks!--but in november of 2021, it's missing one, and that's because the cc of that VOD does copyright takedowns, not because the archivists didn't save it. no one in the archivist project is deleting VODs off youtube with no backups the way people are deleting fanfics. three months ago, one of my dsmp archivist friends finished coding a tool that let them reconstruct VODs out of twitch clips, and reconstructed six tubbo dsmp VODs from 2020. not only are we basically not losing VODs anymore, we are actively gaining VODs that have been lost for years, that were thought to be lost forever. the library isn't burning anymore; it's being rebuilt.

the qsmp VOD masterlist is here. it is usually a month or two behind the present day, to give creators time to archive their own VODs, but... look at it. in january of 2024, every single qsmp vod was archived. the same is true of december of 2023, and november, and the vast majority of months for the past year.

i'm not going to say that there isn't a problem. just a few days ago, i realized that a lifesteal VOD from last year was missing--that its youtube upload was messed up somehow, and no one noticed and it wasn't mirrored on the internet archive and the person who uploaded it deleted the original file. and now it's gone forever. this made me super sad! like i said: i'm not going to say that there isn't a problem.

but... look at the lifesteal VOD masterlist here. lifesteal's a smaller fandom than qsmp or dsmp. open the 2022 tab and you'll see months and months of lost VODs, of no one's VODs being saved, because there weren't any archivists saving them. then open the 2023 tab and see: they lost four VODs, over the course of a year. even in smaller fandoms, archivists are working. they're making progress. they're saving VODs. in 2024, lifesteal archivists screenrecorded five streams on tumblr live to make sure they would not become lost media. mcyt may be a constantly burning library of alexandria, but the people with fire extinguishers are dedicated. they're making incredible progress. i know people with petabytes of VODs saved, who have spent money on extra storage for this. i know people who are constantly running up against their storage limits as they download/upload to the internet archive/delete for space/rinse and repeat. a decent fraction of the time, my internet at home is slow because it's downloading VODs.

and these aren't the only mcyt fandoms with archiving projects! the outsiders smp VOD masterlist is here. origins smp VOD masterlist is here. smp earth VOD masterlist is here. rats smp VOD masterlist is here. there are so many others that i just don't happen to know about. the older and smaller a fandom is, the more likely it is to not have an attached archiving project, or for the archive to be missing a lot of VODs. but... guys, we've saved a lot. there are people out there, working tirelessly to save even more. yes, mourn what we have lost--the archivists i know are also the ones mourning the most for the VODs that are, in fact, forever lost media. but don't dismiss how much people have saved. we are making progress. we are losing less and less every month. the vast majority of the dsmp and qsmp still exist, i am not going to say they're the same experience as watching live because they're really not, but.. they're out there. people have put in a lot of work to save them.

if you have publicly available VOD masterlists or other mcyt archiving projects that aren't on this post, please add them in a reblog. i want this post to serve as a reference for how much archivists have saved in this community; unfortunately, i'm not super connected to every community. but i know that--for every person deleting things, there are people working, tirelessly & with little external reward, in so many different mcyt fandoms, to save things. and we should appreciate that more often.

[spacelazarwolf]

apparently a bunch of ppl on social media are trying to call for a boycott of rick riordan because of this statement in a blog post:

Becky and I are just back from a busy weekend with events at the Boston Book Festival and New York Comic-Con.

Before I get into that, however, some words to acknowledge the ongoing horrors in Israel and Gaza. As many of you may know, I am no longer on social media. My accounts post only updates on my books and related projects. I do not read posts, reply to posts, or share my thoughts about world events on those forums. That doesn’t mean I don’t have strong feelings and reactions. It means I am offline as completely as possible, except for the occasional blog post like this one.

I will say this: Over the last eighteen years, I have received many fan letters from young readers, both Israeli and Palestinian, who often told me that my books helped them escape the fear, grief and anxiety they were dealing with at the time. Some had lost family members to violence. Some were writing while in the distance they could hear explosions, gunfire, and the launching of rockets. They used my books as a way to escape into another world, where the monsters were fictional, and where demigods usually saved the day. While I am always glad that my books can help young readers find joy during difficult times, my heart breaks every time I hear about the things they have to deal with. I am grief-stricken by the horrific events now unfolding, especially because I know that they are part of a long historic pattern that has been robbing too many children of their childhood and perpetuating hatred for far too long.

I am also quite aware that when anyone, myself included, tries to speak about this issue, the reader is waiting to pounce, thinking, “Yes, but whose side are you on?” That is exactly the wrong question. If there are two sides to this issue, those sides are not Palestinian/Israeli or Muslim/Jewish. The two sides are humanitarian and dehumanizing. Dehumanizing has a long evil history. It is appealing and easy to buy into, because humans are tribal animals. We are hardwired to think in terms of ‘us’ versus ‘them.’ We are the real humans, the good guys, the ones with God on our side. Those other people are evil monsters who don’t deserve empathy. Hate mongers have thrived on dehumanizing for as long as there have been humans. It provides them with a purpose, a way to rally support, power, and scapegoats. It is easy to point to atrocities committed by our enemies, while justifying or minimizing the atrocities committed by ourselves or our allies.

Humanitarianism is a much harder sell. It requires us to empathize, to see other groups of people as equally deserving of dignity and quality of life. It requires not always putting ourselves and our needs first. But in the long run, humanitarianism is our only hope. If violence could end violence, if we could put an end to “those other people” once and for all, human history would read very differently than it does.

So yes, I am appalled by the Hamas attacks on Israeli civilians. I am appalled by the suffering of Palestinian civilians in Gaza. Both things can be true. Both things must be true. My thoughts are with all the people who have died, who have lost loved ones, who have had their worlds and their lives shattered, especially the children. More death and violence will not break this cycle, which has been going on for generations. There is no military solution. Even since I first wrote the post, only twenty-four hours ago, the Israeli government’s brutal retaliation against the entire population of Gaza has reached genocidal proportions. This is not only an atrocity. It is folly. Answering misery with misery only creates more fertile ground for extremism, dehumanizing the “other side,” letting hate mongers thrive, stay in power, and reduce us all to our most monstrous impulses. The only real solution is treating each other like equally worthy human beings, and negotiating a peace that allows all parties a chance to live in security and dignity, with hopes for a future that does not include bombs and rockets and gunfire. This means security and support for Israel, yes. It also means a secure Palestine which is allowed to get the international aid and recognition it needs to build a viable state.

Do I think that will happen? Unfortunately, no. Humans are simply too selfish, too ready to blame “the other” for all their problems, too ready to dehumanize, though I also believe, perhaps paradoxically, that most people just want to live their lives in peace and have a chance for their children to have a brighter future. The problem is when we don’t allow other people to have those same hopes and dreams — when it becomes a false choice of us versus them.

What can I do? I will continue to write books that I hope will give young readers some joy. I will resist the urge to demonize entire groups of people. I will call for less violence, not more violence. And when asked whose side I am on, I will tell you I am on the side of humanitarianism.

So with that said, I return to the world of books . . .

honestly, if you have a problem with this statement, it’s probably because he’s talking about you. this is exactly what legitimate activists (as in not just random westerners who share social media posts but on-the-ground activists who are doing real work) have been saying for decades. and i think all this really speaks to just how disconnected a lot of westerners who claim to be pro palestinian are from those activists.

if you can’t read a statement that says “i am on the side of humanitarianism and less violence” without immediately jumping to cancel them, you are the problem being discussed in the above statement.

[aroaceleovaldez]

okay last one for the night but. honestly i really hate how the franchise has been using loyalty to Rick as a shield for so long. If Rick was involved in a project or not doesn't matter, especially not anymore.

ReadRiordan and the publishing for the franchise has been using this tactic for ages - they obscure if any writing related to the series wasn't written by Rick unless it's special circumstances. It's near impossible to find out who the ghostwriters are (Stephanie True Peters and Mary-Jane Knight). TSATS was promoted as the first time we got a non-Riordan (Rick or Haley) author working on one of the companion novels despite having seven already existing ghostwritten books in the series. The only reason Mark Oshiro was emphasized so heavily for TSATS was because they also work as a sensitivity reader for topics such as queer identity, and Rick had received backlash in the past for being a Straight Cis Old White Guy repeatedly falling into bad habits (that he hasn't broken out of) with certain characterizations that he kept doubling-down on or retconning into oblivion. The show emphasizes that Rick was involved, but the LA Times article brings into question exactly how much he was involved, and it doesn't even really matter either way. The ReadRiordan site actively avoids putting any writing credits on their articles (or art credits...) or anywhere on their site.

Practically the entire fandom unanimously agrees the musical - which had zero involvement from Rick - is the best adaptation of the series so far, including the TV show. Some of the best writing to come out of the series recently was the stuff ghostwritten by Stephanie True Peters (Camp Half-Blood Confidential, Camp Jupiter Classified, Nine from the Nine Worlds, etc). And yet when promotional stuff is posted about CHB:C, there's clearly coded language used to hide the fact that Rick himself didn't write it. Yes, that's how ghostwriters work, but at this point we should really stop pretending "Rick Riordan" isn't just a pen name for a group of authors like "Erin Hunter" and that Rick is actually writing everything in the series. I can easily look up and see which Animorphs books were ghostwritten, and who those authors were. I can find every "Erin Hunter" easily listed on official sites. And yet most people don't even know the Riordanverse franchise has ghostwriters at all.

And the franchise is still trying to use the "Tio/Uncle Rick" stuff. Author loyalty and marketing parasocial relationships isn't going to save the franchise when the author himself can't hold up his own original themes or even keep basic series bible details straight, and especially not if the editors are barely if at all doing their job. And please at least get a goddamn series bible by this point.

[favefandomimagines]

Lose Something (t.o)

Summary: one wrong misjudgment can change everything

Request: @ol-alex-lo what about reader that once chased tornados just like him, but her best friend got killed a few years ago because of it but reader survived? And she doesn’t chase anymore but people always go to her for advice because she knows where the next tornado will hit. And Tyler learns about her and the fact that she’s good, so he goes to see her and he actually makes fun of her or jokes with her that she’s probably just to scared or chicken to go in a tornado so her advice is probably pure luck? And that they shouldn’t lisent to someone who never chased a real tornado or that is too scared to chase one? And reader just lashes out? And she yells that if he’s still chasing tornados that means that he never lost anything to them? Not like she did. And just so much angst, and Tyler then feels bad and like a total ass so he apologizes? so just angst and a fluffy ending?

AN: I love this request lol angsty fluff is my brand so obviously I had to knock this out. Also, I know almost nothing about tornadoes and the best places to go when you’re not home lol I live in Nebraska and the last tornado I witnessed over 26 years was in April

“This storm is beautiful!” You called to your best friend as she got out of the car. “This is the best one we’ve gotten all season!” She called back over the wind. You and your best friend Tara were trying to get data on exactly how tornadoes form. A question that every scientist still doesn’t have an answer to.

You and Tara were creating a project to find the proper data to see how a tornado is formed. With each storm, you became closer and closer to getting proper grant money to take your research to the next level.

The storm you were chasing was a small EF-2, the perfect storm to get data on how it was able to form. “Y/N, we could actually get this grant.” Tara told you as she looked down at her tablet.

You looked at her with a huge smile on your face before hugging her tightly. Soon, out of nowhere, the wind picked up and something in the air shifted. “Y/N,” Tara started.

The tornado was approaching quicker than it should have if it was a true EF-2. “We need to go. Now.” You spoke.

You and Tara ran to your car and you threw it in reverse, trying to outrun the storm. You could see in your rearview mirror that the tornado itself was growing. It was no longer an EF-2 but something bigger.

At that moment you were cursing yourself for not agreeing to take your brother's truck and instead driving your own car.

The wind was getting faster by the second and your car was getting thrown around all over the road.

“We have to get out. We can’t be in the car.” You told Tara. “What? Y/N, are you crazy?” Tara questioned. “We’re as good as dead if the storm picks us up in the car.” You replied. You stopped the car and the two of you got out and made a run for it.

As you kept running, the rain pelting you both, you spotted a horse watering trough a few feet ahead of you. Pipes that are more than likely deep in the ground to access well water. It would be your best bet.

You grabbed Tara’s hand and pulled her along towards the trough. You and Tara huddled down and held on to the pipe. “Hold on tight!” You yelled at her. The storm began to pass over you and you felt Tara’s hand slip from the pipe.

You reached forward and grabbed her hand as she began to slip. “Tara! Don’t let go!” You yelled. “Y/N!” She yelled back.

It all happened so quickly. One minute, Tara was holding on to you and you were holding on to her. And then the next, the storm had ripped her hand from yours. You screamed her name as you watched your best friend headed straight for her death.

When the storm had passed, you almost had to pry your hand off of the water pipe with how tight your grip was. Everything around you was destroyed, nothing was left standing. Except you. Alone in the aftermath of the storm.

You hadn’t stepped foot in Kansas in five years and if it wasn’t a special occasion, you would have avoided the state completely. It was Tara’s birthday and her mom wanted to have a gathering in her memory.

You owed it to her to attend after avoiding her for so long. She never blamed you for Tara being out there, but you blamed yourself. If you hadn't convinced Tara to come along, maybe she’d still be alive.

Tara was a science fanatic. She was going to the University of Kansas studying microbiology and you were there studying metrology. You figured that the two of you could combine forces to figure out how tornadoes formed to a T. The pair of you had chased plenty of storms before, she always said you had a gift. You knew when, where and just how strong the storm would be before it even hit. You were never wrong, but that day you were.

You told yourself you would stop chasing because your miscalculation cost your best friend her life. You didn’t want to feel anything like that again.

If you were being honest, you were back home for two reasons. One, for Tara. Two, your friend Kate needed a favor. She had been working with some hot-shot storm chaser with a YouTube channel and she had told him all about you.

They needed an edge to beat out all the other chasers out there and you were the edge.You promised Kate that you’d meet with them. As you pulled up to the motel, you were starting to regret it.

“Y/N, hey! It’s so good to see you!” Kate greeted you as you walked up to the ugly, souped up truck. “Hey, Kate. It’s good to see you too.” You replied as the two of you hugged. “Y/N, this is Tyer Owens. He’s the one who helped me with my project.” She said, introducing the two of you.

You weren’t going to lie and say he wasn’t good looking because he definitely was. He was your type, and that could have played a part in why Kate wanted to introduce you. But you knew guys like him. Thinking chasing a tornado was glamorous and boasting about it on the internet.

He was attractive, sure, but you didn’t like how reckless he behaved.

“Hi, I’m Y/N. It’s nice to meet you.” You greeted. “Likewise. So, Kate says you have a gift.” Tyler said, cutting to the chase. “I wouldn’t call it a gift.” You replied. “Y/N taught me everything I know. We were in the same meteorology program.” Kate said.

Tyler examined you, looking you over subtly. Kate talked about you all the time. This amazing scientist who knew exactly where and when the storm would be and just how strong it would develop. He thought Kate was good but you sounded like you were too good to be true. He just had to know the woman who knew all about tornadoes but never actually chased them.

“But you don’t chase?” Tyler asked. “No, I don’t chase.” You answered. “Tyler collects data by going inside the tornado. It’s insane.” Kate boasted.

You knew she was trying to find common ground for the two of you. The topic of chasing was very touchy for you and she knew that.

“Inside the tornado? Do you have a death wish or something?” You scoffed. “Maybe you’re just too scared to do it yourself.” Tyler commented.

This man didn’t even know you and he had the gall to make a comment like that? “Tyler,” Kate started. “You know all of this information, you know the storm and yet you won’t go in the storm? What have you got to lose?” He continued.

“I’m not scared to do anything.” You rebutted. “I’m sorry Kate, but I don’t think we should listen to your friend. She doesn’t chase, she's too scared to, so how are we supposed to trust her information?” Tyler cut you off.

“You don’t know anything about me. You don’t know what I’ve gone through and don’t you dare say I don’t have anything to lose. If you’re still chasing, that means you’ve never lost anything you loved. Not like I have.” You snapped at him.

You took one more look at him scoffed, walking away from him as Kate called your name. Tyler watched as Kate went after you but to no avail. You said some words to her, gave her an apologetic look, before getting back in your car.

“Seriously, Tyler?” Kate questioned. “What?” Tyler asked. “You clearly don’t listen to a word I say if you said all of that to her. I’ve told you what happened and why she stopped chasing.” Kate answered.

Tyler didn’t reply, knowing that she was correct. He didn’t listen to what she said about your backstory.

“God, Tyler. Y/N chased all the time. Her and her best friend Tara were trying to figure out how a tornado forms. They almost got grant money for their project. Five years ago, Tara and Y/N were out getting data and the EF-2 that Y/N predicted ended up being an EF-4. They tried to take cover but Tara died. Y/N hasn’t gone out for a storm since.” Kate explained to him.

The guilt immediately washed over Tyler. He judged you before he even knew you and made himself look like a total asshole. And he couldn’t imagine how that made you feel.

“I-I didn’t know.” Tyler stammered. “She’s never going to help us now.” Kate muttered. Kate walked back to the team to explain how Tyler royally screwed up their next chase.

But all Tyler could think about was how guilty he felt. He wasn’t a bad guy despite what you probably thought about him now. He wanted to make things right with you not only for his own conscience, but for your help. Kate said that you were their best chance at getting ahead. Plus you were easy on the eyes.

He had to make things right with you, but he just didn’t know where to start.

__

You were at Tara’s parents farm, helping them set up for the ‘party’ in Tara’s honor. A part of you thought it was morbid, throwing a party in honor of someone who died. But you knew it meant a lot to her parents.

“It’s good to see you, Y/N. It’s been so long.” Tara’s mom told you. “I’m sorry I haven’t visited as much as I should.” You replied. “It’s okay, hon. We understand. We’re just happy you’re back.” She said.

You smiled at her and gave her hand a squeeze before she walked back inside the house. You were putting centerpieces with Tara’s picture on them on the tables, making them look perfect.

The next centerpiece you grabbed had a picture of you and Tara on it. It was from your first chase together of an EF-1.

You asked her to go and told her she didn’t have to if she felt unsafe, but she was so excited to go. It was evident by the bright smiles on both of your faces.

“She looked like fun.” You heard a voice behind you. You turned around and saw Tyler Owens approaching. “She was. I told her she didn’t have to come chasing with me but she said it’s a once in a lifetime event.” You answered, with a small laugh.

“Kate told me what happened. I’m sorry for the things I said.” He spoke. “How were you supposed to know?” You replied. “Still. I shouldn’t have said you were scared and that we shouldn’t trust you.” Tyler said.

“You have every right not to trust me. I told Tara that it wasn’t anything more than an EF-2 and I was wrong. I cost her her life because I was wrong.” You told him.

“You know better than anyone that storms change. They’re unpredictable. You couldn’t have known it was going to develop.” Tyler rebutted.

You were about to reply when Tara’s mother interrupted. “Y/N, who’s your friend?” She asked. “Oh uh, this is Tyler. He just stopped by.” You said. “Well, Tyler, any friend of Y/N’s is a friend of ours. Please stay for the party, we’d love to have you.” She said, “Oh Mrs-” You started.

“I would love to.” Tyler interjected. You looked up at him, surprise written on your face. “You don’t have to stay.” You told him. “I want to. Maybe this will be the start of us being friends.” He said with a smirk.

“Oh really? And why would you want to be friends?” You asked cheekily. “Because I still want to see you chase a storm.” He answered.

“It’s going to take a lot for me to go back out there.” You spoke. “Well then I better get started.” He said.

You smiled up at Tyler before he started helping you with the centerpieces. Maybe you had misjudged Tyler just like he misjudged you. Maybe this was going to be the start of something good for the both of you.

[silverynight]

Eight years and counting

Contains manga spoilers

The first year comes with so much planning and preparation, Katsuki barely has time to keep up with graduation and the agency interview. He's a war hero, he knows it'll be easy for him to get in any agency he wants and even though that'd make his middle school self excited, he's not that kid anymore.

He cares more about Izuku now. No, he only cares about Izuku now.

Katsuki watches closely as the last ember dies and Izuku pretends it doesn't take his last bit of hope with it; he wants Izuku to be more open with him, to tell him how he truly feels about being quirkless again, but Katsuki knows him well enough at this point to expect something like that.

But he also knows his Izuku won't be completely happy with being a UA teacher, no matter how much he loves that school. Izuku is meant to be a hero, like Katsuki. Actually, he's meant to be a hero and fight by Katsuki's side.

And Katsuki is going to make sure that dream comes true.

So he plans; Izuku needs a new suit, one that can emulate OFA to perfection because if Katsuki is going to give anything to Izuku, he's going to make sure it's absolutely perfect.

It takes a while for him to finish the design and as soon as he does, the first step is to show it to All Might. Katsuki knows he used a mecha suit during the final battle so he probably has an idea if Katsuki's design is possible or not.

"For young Midoriya?"

All Might already knows it's for Izuku, but the question is not exactly about that and Katsuki is perfectly aware of it; he can see it in the soft smile of Izuku's mentor, he can see it in the way his blue eyes shine with knowledge.

Katsuki blushes, but he doesn't look away from the former symbol of peace. He's not that middle schooler hot-heated kid anymore. He's done hiding his feelings behind anger and he's not ashamed about what he feels for Izuku. He's pretty sure All Might knows about that, he's probably waiting for a confirmation.

Katsuki nods, blush spreading down his neck.

"It'll take years to make something like that."

"I'm aware."

"And a lot of money," All Might keeps staring into his eyes, and Katsuki suddenly feels like he's being tested, but he doesn't care. He's going to get Izuku his suit no matter what. "A lot."

"I'll work hard. I can pay for it."

All Might smiles fondly at him before putting a hand on his shoulder.

"You should talk to young Midoriya."

Katsuki shakes his head with a fierce determination. He's not going to get Izuku's hopes up only to shatter them when something doesn't work. This is just an idea and he's not sure how long it'll take.

Katsuki will rather stab himself than breaking Izuku's heart.

"I can't do that. Not until it's ready."

"I'm not talking about the suit."

His cheeks are warm again as what All Might is trying to say finally sinks in.

"I will, but not yet."

***

By the second year he's already mailing the designs to All Might's friend in the US and constantly sending texts and visiting Hatsume in her new lab. She's excited about it and happy to start working on it; she's fond of Izuku too and loves challenges so Katsuki knew she'd say yes.

It takes a little bit more to convince Shield, but she agrees after reading Katsuki's long mail, that looks dangerously close to an essay about the amazing things Midoriya Izuku could achieve with it.

Maybe Izuku is right after all; he's kind of a nerd too.

She agrees to the project and assures Katsuki he can send her low amounts of money every month until the suit it's completely done. After a few weeks, both Shield and Hatsume start working together on it.

Then he contacts his former classmates, because All Might told him they'd want to know about it.

Not only they seem really excited about the project, they offer their help and tell Katsuki they'd like to give him a bit of money for the suit too.

He agrees gladly because he knows Izuku will be happy to know everyone participated in the making of the suit. Besides, he knows it's important to let people help when they can and want to.

***

He's not going to lie, the third year is harsh for him.

Between the videocalls with Shield, the visits to Hatsume and the extra hours he has to work to make more money, Katsuki barely has time to hang out with his friends, although it's not like they have much time either.

He stills sees Izuku a few times a week though because he's physically incapable of being away from him for too long. Sometimes Katsuki wonders if he has noticed, and then he remembers he's a nerd who won't recognize unconditional love even if it hit him in the face.

They talk about Izuku's students, about the UA and Katsuki's hero work; he was a bit reluctant to say anything about his job in front of the nerd at first, but he realized that Izuku genuinely gets excited and happy about Katsuki's pro hero journey.

He notices the nerd gets a bit sad sometimes, especially when he mentions their other friends, because they all are professionals now and Katsuki knows Izuku would like to share that kind of feeling with them.

It only makes Katsuki want to work even harder.

And he does, even if he ends up half dead on his couch after a very long shift; he somehow manages to wake up early next morning with Izuku's dream in his mind.

It's enough motivation to keep him going.

However, his body does get tired and it shows sometimes in the way he acts around others; that's probably the reason why he starts snapping at annoying fans and the videos end up on Tiktok and Instagram; his hero name trends for a while, but he honestly doesn't give a fuck. He's still making money and saving people.

Although, even if he doesn't care, he knows others do.

Because of that, Aizawa starts scolding him about his public image and the way it'll affect to his current ranking.

But Katsuki doesn't care about rankings anymore; Izuku is not there to compete against for the number one spot so it's not remotely interesting to make an effort now.

He'll save that for when Izuku becomes a pro hero.

***

By the fourth year, Aizawa decides to play dirty and use Katsuki's only weakness, so he starts showing Izuku the videos of him growling at civilians.

"Kacchan!"

It's ridiculous how Izuku's sad puppy eyes and his worried expression is the only thing he needs to make Katsuki do as he pleases, but Katsuki has been acting that ridiculous since the war ended so it doesn't matter.

It's not like he's gonna stop now.

"Fine! I'll try not to punch them in the face!"

"Did you actually do that?" Izuku finally snaps his head up from the homework he's grading and looks at him with shock, concern and disbelief at the same time.

"Of course not!" He rolls his eyes. "No matter how much I want to sometimes..."

"Kacchan!"

He does behave a bit better after that and Ashido makes fun of him because of it.

Then All Might figures out he's working too much, and also uses Izuku to make Katsuki take a break.

"Are you overworking yourself, Kacchan?"

Again with the sad puppy eyes! He needs to develop a shield against them. Izuku can't keep using them like a weapon all the time.

"I'm fine!"

The nerd is even better at handling him; Izuku nods and smiles before changing the topic to one of his students (he adores them as much as they adore him) and Katsuki visibly relaxes.

Which is a huge mistake.

"When's your next day off, Kacchan?" Izuku casually asks three days later. He smiles sweetly at him and Katsuki wonders for a moment if he actually knows how much power he has over him. "I would like you to stay over at my apartment someday. We can watch a movie and order takeout!"

"You mean like a... sleepover?" he clears his throat, cheeks turning slightly pink. He crosses his arms over his chest as a shield because he doesn't want to think of any of his multiple daydreams about spending a night with Izuku. It's too dangerous.

"Yes!"

It's not fair. Izuku looks so excited he basically has stars in his eyes as he looks up at Katsuki.

The next thing he knows is that he's asking Hawks for a day off and the whole agency starts gossiping about it because he hasn't taken one of those in years.

Only when he's sitting on Izuku's couch, completely relaxed and happy, it occurs to him it was a trap to make him take a break. And even though he knows now, he keeps falling for it every single time.

Because he can't say 'No' to Izuku.

***

Izuku's gauntlets are completely ready five years after Katsuki designed them. They look exactly like the ones he used before, but they have OFA's puch power and release energy threads he can use as he did with Blackwhip.

They're perfect.

Katsuki stares at them for a moment with a stupid, fond smile on his face and he decides to do something sentimental and even more stupid because he's an idiot.

"Can you change mines?" He asks Hatsume after a while. "I want them to look like Izuku's."

"You want them to match your boyfriend's?" She says so casually that Katsuki realizes she's been thinking of Izuku and him as a couple for a long time now. "Sure! He'll probably love that too!"

Katsuki can tell her she's mistaken, but he doesn't. Instead, he thinks about how it'll look when Izuku finally wears his hero suit and stands next to him.

His grin becomes even wider.

Izuku tears up when he sees Katsuki for the first time wearing his new gauntlets; he immediately recognizes the design, even though they're a different color.

He doesn't ask why Katsuki decided to change his gauntlets, he just walks towards him and pulls him into a tight hug.

"It... it doesn't bother you?" He's so drunk in Izuku's scent and physical closeness, his voice shakes a bit. Katsuki hadn't realized how starved he was for Izuku's touch until that moment. "I mean, are you okay with them looking almost like the ones you used to wear?"

The last thing he wants is to make Izuku upset with his own need to feel close to him, even if it's something stupid like making his gauntlets match his.

Izuku shakes his head, smiling up at him.

"I think it's really sweet."

Blushing to the tip of his ears and making Izuku giggle in the process, Katsuki realizes how much he has changed over the past years.

He's a completely different person from who he was in elementary, middle and even the first year of high-school.

The old Bakugo was made of various layers of anger issues and insecurities that were falling off of him as he grew as a person, leaving only Bakugo Kacchan in their place.

He's Izuku's Kacchan now. The version of himself that was born the moment he met little Izuku and wanted to be a pro hero with him; he's always been Izuku's Kacchan.

And he's mature enough to admit and embrace that now.

***

It's the second time, in years, his parents pay him a visit; Katsuki has been avoiding that moment as much as he could, going to their house instead, but his mother probably got suspicious and decided to find out what was going on by herself.

She takes a look around and quirks up a brow at him, even though Katsuki is doing everything in his power to ignore her.

He focuses on his Dad instead, but Masaru has a terrible poker face so Katsuki can tell he's noticed his son lives exactly the way he did when he started working as a pro hero.

"You haven't redecorated the place yet, huh?" he offers kindly, prompting Katsuki to roll his eyes.

He's aware of what's coming. It doesn't matter how much his Dad tries to dismiss the subject because he knows his son doesn't want to talk about it.

But Bakugo Mitsuki doesn't like that type of approach.

"Why do you still live in this crappy ass apartment?" There it goes. His mother crosses both arms over her chest and Katsuki knows she will not leave until he gives her a good explanation. "I thought you made good money! It's been years, brat! Don't tell me you somehow got attached to this place?"

Katsuki pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep breath, sits both his parents on the couch and offers them tea as he start explaining everything to them.

By the time he's done he looks up only to find them staring back at him with a very proud smile on both their faces.

Masaru hugs him before his mother starts ruffling his hair in a way she hasn't done since Katsuki was in elementary.

"He's going to love it," his father assures him; a little bit of the weight Katsuki has been carrying over his shoulders vanishes because even though he knows Izuku, part of him was sightly afraid he wouldn't like it.

They spend the rest of the afternoon looking at Katsuki's first designs as he tells them in detail how each piece is going to work.

"We've been testing them for a while and they work quite well," he says with a satisfied smile.

"What about the measurements?" Mitsuki asks then. "If you want to keep this a secret from him, how do you plan to make this fit to his body type?"

"I know Izuku's measurements," he says with a confident smirk that quickly vanishes as soon as he watches his parents exchanging a look. "Not like that! I've know him my whole life! I know him better than anyone!"

There's an uncomfortable silence before Mitsuki shakes her head with an amused grin on her face.

"You know an engagement ring would have been way cheaper than this, right?"

"Shut up!"

***

The UA students know him quite well now, especially Izuku's students. Uraraka and Todoroki help Izuku too every now and then, but Katsuki is the only one who's always available when Izuku calls.

And no, not all the students are fond of him, especially because he plays the villain quite often and he easily defeats them in the blink of an eye.

"Don't be too hard on them, Kacchan!"

"How will they learn what a real battle looks like if I'm not, Izuku?"

After a while, Katsuki hears a couple of students calling him Midoriya-sensei's boyfriend and he doesn't correct any of them.

Then the rumor reaches social media and Katsuki doesn't bother to deny it during interviews either; he only says he doesn't like to talk about his private life, which only makes everyone think it's true.

He's being selfish and he knows it, but he doesn't care at all.

However, Izuku apparently does because he corrects his students when they call them a couple, and even though he's telling nothing but the truth, it hurts Katsuki a bit.

"What is it, Kacchan?" Izuku notices immediately of course, and looks back at him with concern. "Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," he manages to smile, reminding himself that Izuku's suit is almost done and they'll be hero partners soon.

It's all that matters.

"You're an idiot!" Ashido hits him on the back of his head as they have lunch together outside her agency; it's been years since he has actually seen her face to face, and that's the first thing she does? He shouldn't have come. "Why haven't you told him?"

Katsuki huffs, getting slightly irritated.

"We have already discussed this. If the suit is not rea–"

"Not about that!" She rolls her eyes before taking her phone and showing it to him, almost shoving it to his face. "I'm talking about this!"

It's a picture of Katsuki in his hero suit talking to Izuku; they're in the UA so one of the students must have taken it.

Katsuki doesn't need her to say anything else for him to understand what she's talking about; it's written all over his face, in the fondness of smile and the glimmer in his eyes.

He's sure out of all the pictures of pro hero Dynamight on the internet, that's the only one in which he's smiling that softly.

Because it's the only picture of him looking directly at Izuku.

"I will tell him... eventually," he mumbles in a tone that lets Ashido know he doesn't want to talk about it anymore.

Izuku needs to focus on fulfilling his dream first.

***

It's been eight years since Katsuki started this project and now that Izuku's suit is finally done, he has decided that the right person to hand it to Izuku is All Might.

"You should be there too," the man insists, giving him an encouraging smile.

Katsuki shakes his head, looking at the floor; it'd be too overwhelming for him, he's sure he'll tear up if he sees Izuku's face when he gets the suit.

He asks All Might to tell Izuku that everyone funded his suit, that they contributed the same amount to it.

The next day he's back at the agency to keep himself busy; he's about to head to his first patrol of the week when Izuku walks in, wearing his hero suit.

Katsuki chokes, blushes and almost tears up at the same time.

He looks perfect.

"Thank you, Kacchan."

The blinding smile and the happiness in his voice is what ends up undoing him, because what he realizes in that moment is that Izuku hasn't smiled so freely, so sincerely in years and Katsuki is the reason he does now.

He starts tearing up the way he did that day at the hospital, the only difference is that it's happiness what makes him so emotional this time.

Izuku takes a few steps closer and presses their foreheads together.

"Thanks for making my dreams come true."

"It wasn't just me," Katsuki manages to say, but his voice sounds choked. "Everyone-"

"I know you planned it, designed it, got everyone together to work on it and paid the most for it. All Might told me everything."

"The old man can't keep a damned secret now..."

Izuku chuckles and his laughter is music to Katsuki's ears; it's true, he doesn't care how sappy it sounds. Izuku's happy chuckle is the best kind of music to him.

Then, Izuku takes his face in his hands and makes him look down at him.

"I love you too, Kacchan."

Katsuki is sure he's dreaming; it must be getting late, he needs to wake up.

But then Izuku kisses him and the kiss is clumsy and wet, but it's perfect because it's their first and now Katsuki knows it's real.

***

He doesn't need to work extra hours now, which means he has time to help Izuku train to get used to his new suit and the quirks it comes with.

It takes him just two months to accomplish that, and another one to feel ready to apply to Hawks' agency.

"I'm ready to get a hero partner now."

"Really?" Hawks looks at him in disbelief before grinning. "Alright, I have a few suggestions..."

"I want Deku."

Hawks rolls his eyes, but doesn't look surprised in the slightest.

"At least wait for me to hire him first," Hawks continues, staring up at Katsuki with a little bit of irritation. "I just got his application."

"Well, when you do, make him my partner," he's aware that he sounds demanding and although he's not like that anymore, he can't hold back the urgency in his voice because he has waited for that moment for eight years.

"I can't," Hawks says, taking a deep breath, bracing himself for a long discussion. "Even though Deku is a war hero and I'm sure he'll become an excellent pro hero, he has to start at the bottom, like everyone else. However, if I put you with him, you'll have to endure all those boring patrols and easy missions that are given to new heroes in training."

"I know that. Just put me with him. We'll get to the top in no time."

Hawks stares at him and blinks a few times before chuckling.

"Well damn. Guess they weren't rumors after all," he smirks. "Alright. Just invite me to the wedding."

"Will do."

***

Katsuki hears Izuku ramble excitedly about being hero partners and their first patrol together in the comfort of their shared apartment, one that his mother finally approves of, although he has the feeling that she doesn't care that much about the place, but the person her son is living with.

Mitsuki has always loved Izuku.

They have breakfast, Katsuki prepares two bentos for the both of them and they head to the agency, directly to the locker room.

Even though it's not his first patrol, Katsuki notices his heart beating faster as he walks out as Dynamight, right next to Izuku wearing the suit he worked so hard for.

The suit that made their dreams come true.

"Come, Deku," he says, because he can do that now, he can offer his hand to Izuku, knowing he'll take it without hesitation and a blinding smile on his face.

They're partners now, in more ways than one.

It's been eight years to get to this point, but Katsuki know it's just the beginning for the both of them.

***

Patreon

[talaok]

Will you kiss me?

Pairing: Pedro pascal x reader

Summary: You are a famous actress who Pedro has a crush on, and he finally gets to meet you once you get both invited to The Graham Norton Show

warnings: just fluff

a/n: I had to

"What a pair we have here tonight huh?"Graham spoke enthusiastically, making the audience explode in roaring cheers and applauses.

You just smiled as you tried looking at the crowd, getting overwhelmed by the blinding lights.

"Y/n Y/l/n and Pedro Pascal, just- wow"

Other applauses filled the studio.

"Ok so let's start with you y/n, you have a show coming out next week, two oscar nominated films already out, and one more coming out next month" he took a deep breath, feigning fatigue "You must be tired, I mean, How long has it been since you slept?" he joked, making you laugh.

"well I did work a lot this past year, but it was worth it, I'm happy I got to be part of so many wonderful projects and I'm really proud of all of them, I just can't wait for people to see them"

"well I'm sure we're all gonna love them"

"I hope so, I'm always nervous about it"

"Really?" The man beside you asked, surprise clear in his tone.

Pedro Pascal,

You had heard of him before, of the boom he seemed to have made lately, but had never met him until half an hour ago, when you briefly introduced yourselves to one another.

He looked nervous, awkward even, and you didn't know if it was because of the show he was about to get on, if he just was like that, or if there was something else bothering him.

"of course, when I go to premiers I'm always looking over at how people are reacting, if they're like bored or on their phones or actually interested, it's nervewracking, don't you?"

"well of course I do" he chuckled "but I'm no one compared to you"

He had a beautiful smile, you noticed, sweet, comforting.

"oh stop it" you smacked his shoulder playfully " you're a big deal, Pedro"

He just shook his head, still smiling softly, and Graham took the opportunity to intervene.

"of course you are, I mean, Game of Thrones, Narcos," he listed " and now the Mandalorian and The last of us, I mean you're really killing it"

The crowd cheered some more at the mention of those shows.

"thank you," he said shyly, looking like he almost wanted them to stop.

"so how does it feel?" he asked, "to be on such massive hits at the same time?"

"Well, it feels... scary" he laughed, joined by the audience

"you don't like being the center of attention?" Graham asked

"oh no I do" he corrected, making you laugh "It's just frightening at times, 

but I'm having a good time y'know, it's also comforting seeing everyone I've worked with kind of be in the same position as me" he shrugged.

"People you've worked with?"

"yes, you know like Bella Ramsey, they're also- well they're young so of course, they're new to this- but, y'know, we're not used to all this attention and it feels good to have someone by your side who understands what's going on"

"of course" graham nodded "that's true, Bella is really young" he noticed "that's a thing both your shows have in common, young people," he said, "how did that feel? working with the new generation, I'm not saying you're old, but did you ever feel left out?"

"oh, all time" Pedro laughed

"yeah me too" you agreed "there were times when I was really lost but too ashamed to ask " you laughed in embarrassment

"absolutely," Pedro said, " they have a language of their own"

"right?!" you exclaimed, happy someone finally understood you.

"yes, like, there's one term that I learned recently that's really wonderful- somebody was saying - you swerve - "

You frowned

"do you know what swerving is?"

"nope" 

"I was like oh- get somebody off your scent or something like that- I don't know - confuse somebody, and they were like: no, they come in for a kiss and you swerve" he demonstrated, pretending to be avoiding a kiss on the cheek.

"Isn't that great?"

you nodded, laughing, as an idea came to you

"We should try"

His eyes widened as he turned to you 

"c'mon swerve me"

"no, I cannot swerve you!"

"c'mon it's for science"

"I can't, I can't swerve y/n Y/l/n, that's like - a crime"

"oh stop it, just do it, I wanna try it c'mon," you said, flattered

"ok fine, but just because I can't say no to you" he surrendered

"ok" you cleared your throat, preparing yourself "Oh wow, hi Pedro" you pretended to greet him, going in for a kiss.

He just smiled, as he did, eventually avoid your kiss,

his beard grazed your cheek, and the proximity to him, sparked something inside you, something quick, but likewise persistent.

As you leaned away, you noticed with amusement the flush on his cheeks and had to bite down a smile.

He fanned himself exaggeratedly "I'm blushing," he mumbled, making you chuckle, as you rested a hand on his arm, trying to soothe him.

" So how does swerving feel?" Graham asked

"it's... interesting" you glanced at him.

"It makes me feel rude" he looked at you too now, "I would never do it, it feels- it's mean"

"oh we know you wouldn't" you reassured him.

"I didn't like it" he shook his head

You smiled, tilting your head "would it make you feel better if we did it again without the swerving?"

You noticed how he seemed to have a momentary shutdown.

"yes," he said bluntly

"oh my god yes"

You laughed softly, as his mouth gaped open.

"Will you kiss me?" he almost begged, which was funny considering you had proposed it.

"Alright then, come here" you gestured, and he leaned closer, letting you press a quick kiss to his cheek.

"there" you smiled

"I think I just died"

"oh stop it, you're flattering me," you said, noticing a trace of red on his face "whoops, sorry I left a lipstick print" you went to clean it 

"no no" he stopped you 

"please leave it, I want proof this actually happened"

[mehiwilldoitlater]

remember that ask about yuán fèn being able to communicate with sun wukong's spirit, well how bout' u mix it with ur last sad fic and make the reader a reincarnation of that guy's dead wife, not that i also see him giving yuán fèn advice on his relationship and look at them and realize they look at each other the same way he and her past self did

Yuán Fèn never liked to be jealous. He hated it, finding that emotion despicable.

But it was always natural to him, feeling the urge to hide you from every possible suitor's eyes, even now that you were completely and utterly his own. You loved him, and he loved you, that was all.

But he had instincts, and it's complicated to control them or satisfy them when the one that causes this emotion is a spirit that lives in his head.

When did Wukong start to look at you in that way? When did it happen? When he merged with him? When you both vowed each other your loves? Or it was something that had grown with time?

Despite his desire to attack something that was more in his head than outside of it, he had noticed that the looks on the sage's face weren't of desire or longing; they were pityful looks, like those of someone who is regretting something.

A few times I wanted to approach the subject to understand his strange new obsession with observing you, but it was always not the right time or just an avoided matter like many others. His eyes looked at you like some old man that observed the sky that changed towards time, and he wanted to know why.

Like every time he found him there, in the side of his eyes, looking at you. He was sitting on the wooden porch of your new shared house; the sunset colored the sky like the day that he had fought his shell in his mind. You were there, in the distance, playing some games with a few of the small monkeys, laughing and trying to catch them. On the sage face, a small smile.

"I know you're in my head, but I would appreciate it if you could stop staring at her."

He waited for a response from the former king, only to meet silence. He sighed, explaining why he was so difficult. He followed him to his spot on the porch, looking at you falling in the grass while a small monkey had climbed on your chest.

"At least you could tell me the reason?"

"The smile is the same."

Yuán Fèn looked at him confused. He expected everything—some remarks, a stupoid joke—instead he was talking like that now.

"...Same?"

"Yes, the same... I wonder... but if it's true, or the karma it's an amazing thing, or It just love to play dirty games."

"Oh, please!" he burst out, passing a hand on his head. "Spill it out! Tell me and let's get it over it!"

A frown appears on Wukong's face. That was hard to face for many reasons: restment, some shame, some desire to Just don't think about it. But mostly, it was the fact that it was all his doing and it was hard to digest.

"You remember my wife, Kid?"

"The untold story, yes, what about it?"

"And you know how cycles and reincarnation work, right?"

Yuán Fèn looked at him, trying to connect. Once it was done, his surprised expression turned into a sad one.

"But... she came from another world... she can't possibly..."

"That made it worst... She wasn't made to come here, but something still brought her back here, to you...and to me."

"Sadly," he continued, with a grin that showed all of his pointing teeth. "I won't be the one enjoying her! Good for you, guess."

The younger monkey wanted to make a comment about the comment but found himself uncapable to even do that. He felt just a sense of sadness and cruelty in these big schemes.

Once, they were lovers. Now he was just a projection of his mind, and you didn't even know. Was she still asleep? Maybe she just didn't want to see him... Was she still angry or in pain for being put second to the monk? Tò face death for his plan?

He pondered a little... and then he went to talk with you.

///

"Are you sure about it?"

"Yes."

"You're trembling..." His hand caressed your cheek, trying to bring comfort to your unspoken fear.

"I just... I don't want anything to happen to you. And... well, I'm going to talk to him... it's just really a big thing for me."

He knew it was crazy, but something. He talked to Wukong, asking him about it, and he just stayed there, watching buffled about it. He made the Great Sage buffled... That's new...

"I know, it's crazy... But...he would make him happy, I think."

"Well, if it's a way for him to stop his midnight talk with you, then okay! Let's do it! and I watched the Exorcist! So I know what to do in the worst scenario!"

He laughed about it; he really didn't want to know what your plan was in case the thing didn't work.

But he loved you, and he knew that he would let anything happen to you, not even by his own hand...possessed hand.

He took a big breath, closed his eyes, and stratified to concentrate. He needed to clean his mind from every doubt, emotion, and thought—he needed to make space.

A wave reached to him, and he felt like he was going underwater. There was no right, left, up or down, only the void. This is where Wukong belonged, and now... he needed to take his place.

When Yuán Fèn opened his eyes back, you knew that what was in front of you wasn't him. His warm eyes were so fiery that they could set you whole on fire; his kind expression now was stoic, fuelled with an ancient power that could have crushed you any time.

So that was the feeling when you were in front of Sun Wukong.

You tried to look as normal as you could while those two golden and blood-red eyes kept on studying you, but you only felt the urge to run and hide, to call back Yuán Fèn and call you out...but you couldn't, because you too knew that it was important.

"Ehm..." you cleared your voice. "G-great sage? ...Mister SWukong?...whoever lives in my fiancè head? I'm... well, I guess you know me."

His hands grasped you by your shoulder; he held you mid-air, analyzing you with a new look. He was scared; he was shocked. He was speechless. And you were scared—so fucking scared.

"Hold on, hold on, calm down, mister Sage. I don't think it's-"

Before you could really call for Yuán Fèn, you could feel his arms around you, holding you with desperation, like you could disappear. His hands trembled, holding your dress to the point that you thought that he wanted to rip it off. His chest trembled so much... and his hot tears were falling on your shoulder.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, my love! It's all my fault!"

His loud cry, his hiccups, his moan of pain—this pain—this was Wukong pain. After so many years...

"You were right; you were always right! I was mistaken! I just wanted the world to see that we were important and that you were important! But... but I dragged you down. I should have protected you, listened to you, and failed as a husband."

He cried louder, harder, collapsing on his knee and bringing you down with him. So it was true...he wnated justice for himself and his wife, just like the book said...

"My precious one, my only light, my one treasure! I ruined every chance; I ruined you! IO wanted to have our life back, and instead I... lost you again! Please! Plase, I'm sorry!"

You didn't know what to do or what to say—he was desperate. There was no word you could say to a pain that was there, lingering and fermenting for this long. You were afraid to touch him even. You prayed to have at least one idea, one suggestion!

Maybe someone responded... or just gave you the right words to say.

"My beloved..." His eyes widened; your pained expression was so soft in his eyes for his pain and desperation. "There's nothing to apologize...not anymore. We had given the miracle to be found by each other, and I'm grateful for that. I had always loved you, and forever I will."

Your hand gently caressed his pained expression, caressing away those fat tears. His hand stopped you from leaving his face, holding like trying to melt in you.

"Forgive me."

"I forgive you."

"I was so lost..."

"Now we're found."

And when he hugged you, you felt like a weight on your shoulder, like someone pulling him closer.

///

When he woke up, his face just hurt. He couldn't open his eyes without the need to wash them, and he felt like he needed to drink an entire lake. His head on your legs, your hand caressing his hair.

"...What happened?"

"You passed out after crying for hours."

"That explains why I feel my eyes hurt."

You hummed; keep on caressing his features, now more relaxed than ever. He took your hand, placing a kiss on your knuckles. Somehow, this scene seemed nostalgic, like you saw it before...maybe in another life.

Despite the curious thing, you fell into bliss and were at peace with yourself.

@sun-jglim @crimsonflameproxy @everlastingmoonlightsworld

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[haikyu-mp4]

Second chance to cupid

word count; 1048 – f!reader

Not usually favouring sports, you’re in the journalism club to make use of your great eye for design and writing. After watching one of your school’s volleyball team’s official games last season, you took notice of the boring brochures they handed out with the players’ information. You hadn’t yet chosen what to do for your project this semester and decided to lend your talents to making a better representation of the team’s charms and talents. What you didn’t expect to get out of the project was a date.

You received permission from their coach and captain and set up some equipment to take your photos in a room adjacent to the gym during practice. Hopefully, you can encourage them all to pose confidently. In order to not disturb their whole practice, you ask one grade to join you at a time, starting with the first-years and ending with the third-years. Good luck!

You were already very familiar with Bokuto. The guy was so outgoing that he’s had an interaction with almost every student at Fukurodani, and your conversations simply spurred into many more of them. A couple of days a week, you would see him in the hallway and he would wave excitedly while yelling your name, so that’s how you also ended up talking a lot to Akaashi. It always brightened your day and you could easily admit you grew a bit extra fond of Akaashi as the two of you started spending time together without the third wheel, despite his complaints about it.

Akaashi found you very interesting. He loved listening to you ramble about your club and other interests whenever you two were together. In some ways, your excitement reminded him of Bokuto. Now, some people think Bokuto is stupid. He is not, because when he sees how you two interact, there is no doubt in his mind that something is going on. Bokuto said yes to this project before you even finished your first sentence, which made you laugh softly and thank him before continuing to explain anyway. After meeting with you, he excitedly told Akaashi all about it even though he already heard about it from you, but Bokuto enjoyed how Akaashi seemed so happy about it coming true. That’s why Bokuto asked him during practice if he was planning on asking you out soon.

“What?” Akaashi said, grabbing the ball instead of passing it back.

“Y/n. Shouldn’t you ask her out soon?” the captain asked, gesturing for Akaashi to keep going with the drills. He didn’t.

“Uhh maybe…” Bokuto walked over, annoyed that he wasn’t passing but also smiling as he got an idea and interrupted Akaashi from answering further.

“You can do it while she’s here for the project!” he suggested, imagining some grand scene that didn’t suit Akaashi at all. “Make it real romantic, like when she’s taking the picture you say ‘your pretty smile is even brighter than the camera flash’ and magically whip out a bouquet of roses.”

“I will do it, Bokuto. At some point.” Akaashi assured him, stern but still soft as he wanted Bokuto to feel like he was helping in some way. “She doesn’t even like roses…” he mumbled as well. His mind went into overthinking for a while, mindlessly passing the ball between him and Bokuto.

Akaashi had put emphasis on the will because he planned on doing it the day after your photo shoot when you two shared lunch and discussed the player details. However, he didn’t notice that he didn’t emphasise that idea to his friend. The captain was thrilled because all he heard was you’re right, I will.

The photo shoot was easy so far. The Fukurodani team knew how to look confident and you had an all around good time with them. Your waves of laughter could be heard from outside the room and you all spent the time well. Akaashi seemed happy and you wondered if the room might be too hot as his cheeks were slightly red when you looked at him through the camera lens. He gave you a little smile and put his hands on his hips, doing his best to make you happy with his effort.

You took the picture and put the camera down in your lap to check it, whistling and then looking back up at the guy. “That’s great, Akaashi.” He had given you a couple of options.

He was the last one, so you sent another second year to get the third-years and kept making jokes with everyone as they shuffled out. Akaashi walked a bit slower, thanking you for doing the project for them and telling you to have good luck with the others. Well… with Bokuto.

“Hey, hey, hey!” Bokuto walked in first and bounced over to you, putting an arm over your shoulder and asking if you were doing alright. You confirmed but were still watching Akaashi as he left, giving Konoha a high five and then glancing over his shoulder at you. Bokuto looked between you two excitedly before yelling out. “Hey, Akaashi! Did you ask her out like you planned to?”

Akaashi froze, slowly turning around with a face filled with horror. You were surprised, frowning at Bokuto because you had not been asked about anything like that. Akaashi huffed and avoided your eyes. “No, I was going to do it tomorrow for lunch,” he whispered under his breath, sounding absolutely exasperated.

“So you already have a date tomorrow, that’s great!” Bokuto said, and Akaashi had to gather all his strength to not hit him over the head and make him too dejected before you had to deal with him. Everyone else in the room was laughing at the show and you couldn’t help the small chuckle either. Even though your cheeks were burning red, you smiled brightly and gave Akaashi a little wave.

“I look forward to our date, Akaashi. Get back to practice, I’ll send this one back to you when I’m done with him,” you teased, nodding your head at Bokuto who was giving off ‘I know I did something wrong but I’m happy with the outcome’ vibes.

“Just call me Cupid, I can be hired for any volleyball-related dating proposals,” he announced, making the other team members wince. No way.

the Flyer Series ║ masterlist

/taglist: @cottonlemonade @dira333 @cosmiicdust @nagi-core

[queers-gambit]

Talk Shit, Get Hit

prompt: ( requested ) your high school bully picks the wrong day to taunt you and it's up to an equally hotheaded Billy to calm you down. call it irony.

pairing: Billy Hargrove x female!reader characters are ALL aged 18 years old

fandom masterlist: Stranger Things

word count: 5.4k+

note: the reader is aggressive. the reader is violent. the reader’s hands are rated ‘E’ for Everyone.

warnings: you know the drill: author projects instead of going to therapy and uses personal experience as details. there's physical violence, aggressive reader, depiction of shitty home life / toxic family, (somewhat severe) abusive alcoholic parent, parental abandonment, cursing, bullying, Jason Carver's sister is the bully, injury and blood. cursing, threats, brief cigarette and illicit material use (marijuana / weed), i guess this is hurt and comfort, angst, we talk about Billy's abuse with Neil, too, and kinda abrupt ending.

PLEASE NOTE -

this fic will depict parental abuse, both emotional and physical. this fic will discuss an alcoholic parent. this fic will detail physical violence BY the reader.

DO NOT engage if any of these topics potentially trigger you. you will miss nothing if you decide to skip. author implores readers to value and prioritize their own comfort and mental health.

Of all the days Brittany Carver could've chosen, she picked the worst day imaginable to bully you - being akin to a ticking time bomb. To your immense surprise, she'd laid off that entire week, focused on the "big" cheerleading competition she was leading Hawkins High to victory in. It left her no energy to engage in her favorite past time of tormenting you; figuring that after 6 years of her brutal behavior, she had grown up and lost interest. You weren't someone who people bullied easily, but this thing with Brittany, it was some kind of twisted pissing contest; competition brewing in elementary school that boiled over during middle school and now lasted into high school.

However, God seemed to have a sick sense of humor because on the week your bully had temporarily forgotten your existence, things at home had escalated to a new height not previously known. It was true what they said: if it wasn't one thing, it was another.

The entire week, your mother had only been sober for - well - none of it. She was found morning, noon, and night slumped over in various locations around your home with different bottles of liquor in her grip. The house grew messier each day, a direct result of a checked-out parent refusing to do any chore and destructive little monsters that took form as your twin little brothers. You couldn't keep up, playing mother, sister, housewife, personal maid, and full-time student all at once; pushing your stress levels higher, making you bitter and short tempered. The times your mother was conscious, which was typically to find a new bottle of alcohol, she was a right nasty fuck.

Her bark matched her bite; not only yelling at you, belittling you, and gaslighting you - but also using physical aggression to "teach you a lesson" for being "disorderly" or "a waste of semen" - and yes, that is a direct quote. Her hands were dainty from malnourishment, bulging veins prominent, and despite your father abandoning the family ages go, she still wore her diamond wedding ring that left small cuts wherever she struck you. The times she wasn't sober enough to really "get" you, she put out cigarettes on your arms and thighs; leaving tiny, circular burn scars you coated in Neosporin. She’s been known to break a few wooden cooking spoons over your head, steal the money made from babysitting, even cashed-in your inheritance - pawning all of your dead grandmother’s jewelry. There were plenty of other examples, but dwelling on those instances wouldn't change the past or alter your future, so you stuffed them way deep down in your soul.

Naturally, you didn't say a Goddamn thing; under the impression that everyone had shitty family members they tolerated and that your home life was normal enough to not report to the police. You didn't know any better, you didn't know that your mother downing fifths of alcohol daily was cause for concern. You didn't know that abuse wasn't the standard - emotional or physical. It took years for you to learn that love wasn't supposed to hurt, that love wasn't supposed to scare you, that love wasn't selfish, that your mother didn't actually love you. It took years to convince yourself that you were worthy of love and acceptance, never receiving it from your mother - not knowing you could get it from anyone else.

And then, William fucking Hargrove - or Billy - breezed into your small hometown with a sweet denim-clad ass, golden, curly mullet, and a bad fucking attitude that rivaled your own.

It was a match made in heaven. Or hell.

You both suffered at the hands of your parental figures, turning abrasive and foul-mouthed as defense mechanisms. You and Billy developed hardened exteriors in an effort to protect your soft insides, and when you met officially, it was as if you two could see past that hard shell - straight through the bullshit. You recognized much of the same in one another - like looking in a mirror - and grew impossibly close in an incredibly short amount of time; grateful to have a second half who understood without ever needing explanation.

He just got you. Able to identify common threads between you. Billy understood you, having more empathy than you thought he could muster. He protected you. He loved you. He took care of you - and you did the exact same, considering you two were cut from the same cloth; wanting to assure him he was just as worthy of love as you.

Billy was known around Hawkins for being a womanizing jock with anger issues, and yet, when you finally agreed to go on a date with him, he never even looked at another girl twice. He felt as if dating his best friend, understanding that nobody else would truly understand him the way you do - so he did what he could to keep you.

He did his best to defend you, but there was only so many tangible things the star basketball player could protect you from. Gossip and petty cheerleaders, prime examples. Yet Billy still tried, even taking the liberty to confront Brittany's brother, Jason Carver, about leaving you alone. Unfortunately, it was as if Billy's concern spurred on the cheerleader's bullying, calling you pathetic for hiding behind a man and sending him to fight your battles. You told Billy to stay out of it, that you could handle the situation by yourself, that he would just make the situation much more sticky.

So he did. Billy backed off, letting you deal with the situation as best you deemed; offering his support in return, being a shoulder to cry on for the days your frustration peaked.

That entire week Brittany didn't bully you had been extraordinarily tiresome due to your mother's abuse, wanting to confide in Billy but refraining when you rationalized not bringing him into your bullshit. He had enough of his own. So, while, yes, it was a comfort to have him on your side, you never indulged Billy on the woes of your life. He was meant to be your escape, not your savior; the burden of shouldering your abuse while enduring his own feeling terribly unfair.

You kept quiet, even though you were silently begging for someone to save you. Yet you weren't a damsel, there was no Prince Charming, brave knight, chosen champion to slay the dragons terrorizing you.

However, your boyfriend was much more intuitive than you realized. You always prided yourself on your acting skills, convincing everyone around you that you were indifferent to your mother's temperament, even when showing up at school with a casted wrist, black eye, and split bottom lip. Turns out, parents in Hawkins gossiped much more than the kids, and soon, it felt like the entire town knew about your abusive alcoholic mother and runaway father. Nobody did anything to help you, they just tiptoed around the knowledge and stared at your injuries. Brittany Carver was the only person stupid enough to make the mistake of weaponizing your home situation.

It was a tepid spring afternoon, the sun peaking through the clouds and the first flowers sprouting from the thawing ground. The bell rang to dismiss for lunch, the hallways filled with mingling and milling students all grateful for the midday break. Some gathered in gaggles of friends, some headed directly for the cafeteria, and others, like you, utilized the time to exchange morning class books for afternoon materials. Your fractured wrist had long since healed, but there was a long, straight scar present as a result from the surgery you required; currently, a scabbing cut over your eyebrow, lips stinging from where the flesh split, with a collection of bruises turning different colors to represent various healing stages.

Today simply hadn't been your day.

After a week of constant alcohol-fueled battery, you felt your frustrations finally crescendo after being assigned 3 separate essays; doubling your stress, shortening your fuse, and creating heavy leaded dread as the minutes ticked by. Everyone else felt giddy for the spring-tastic weekend, wanting time to go faster so they could go home - but not you. You might've been the one teenager in the city - no, no, the county - no, wait! The state - WAIT, NO... The country, who didn't want to leave school. You didn't want the day to end and be forced out of your safety zone; anxiety twisting your stomach and prickling your skin at the thought of returning home.

Truthfully, you spent several nights a week at Billy's, being snuck in through his window; feeling unsafe in your own home and wanting to remain close without voicing your need for his proximity. You felt stronger with Billy, as if you could take on the world; as if your safety and wellbeing were (finally) a real priority. He took great pride in being that safe haven for you, thinking it a nice change of pace as he often never seized opportunities to prove himself compassionate and caring. Billy was known for being a brute, someone aggressive and commandeering; nobody associating "safety" with him - except you.

However, this wasn't one of those weekends you'd be able to sneak out, being forced into caring for your two wee brothers; them needing you, dependent on you, relying on the care and love you provide them.

As a result of your shitty week, you had been a right, foul bitch to those unfortunate enough to engage you. Being well aware of your attitude, you tried to avoid everyone, not wanting to lash out at innocent peers - labeling yourself a bitch because of your impeccable self-awareness. Though, no matter the labels you assigned, you simply couldn't rein your emotions into check given your anxiety over returning home overpowered your brain.

Knowing you'd be forced to defend yourself against your own mother set your teeth on edge, projecting your horrible mood onto anyone in your vicinity - making most keep their distance.

Keyword: most.

Much like her brother, captain of the basketball team, Jason Carver, Brittany Carver wasn't the brightest bulb of the bunch. She never picked up hints, she didn't bother reading the room or in-between any lines; she held little to no regard for those around her or their emotional state. Brittany just wanted to assert herself as Queen Bee and thought the best way to achieve that was by bullying those she deemed lesser then she. It gave her a power trip, made her feel swollen with importance, boosting her ego because in her mind, she'd rather be feared than loved.

Brittany was dressed in her pretty, pressed, and bright cheer uniform; her obnoxiously blonde hair tied in a high ponytail that swished dramatically with each step. She wore cherry flavored lip gloss, her make-up caked, skirt hiked higher than school regulation permitted because she suckled at the teat for attention - good or bad.

You heard the second bell ring and finished shoving books in your locker, trying to stuff notebooks in your bag when your locker was suddenly violently slammed shut. Flinching at the quick movement and aggressive bang, you glared at whoever dared interrupt you; a manicured hand flat on the metal to keep the locker closed.

"The fuck you want, Brittany?"

"Awh, someone's already got their panties in a twist," she mocked, two of her cronies giggling their support. "C'mon, babe, I was just stopping by to say hello - missed you this week!"

"Oh, for sure," you sneered in a sickly-sweet tone, "of course you missed me, your life is so much more boring without me in it, huh? Wow, seriously, Brittany, I'm flattered to be the main character in your life, too."

Her eyes rolled and one of the other cheerleaders at her flank, Jennifer, popped flavorless gum. "I'm surprised you still have this level of spunk and cheek to talk like that, would've thought Mommy Dearest beat it out of you by now - she hits you often enough, right? Doesn't she? Hmm, well, maybe she needs to hit you a little harder."

"Excuse me?" You snapped.

"You heard me!" She laughed. "Obviously your mom isn't teaching you any lessons since you still have this whole emo-attitude going on. But I can't say I blame her, you're such a bitch - I'd smack the shit outta you, too."

You nodded slowly, not realizing several students had paused themselves to watch the exchange; knowing this was a longtime coming and didn't want to miss the inevitable drama. Dropping your backpack, you asked, "You sure? You really wanna hit me?"

"Is it that hard to believe? I mean," she smirked, "your own mother does - of course, I do, too. Like, seriously, it's not a secret why she hits you - just look at you! No wonder she hates you, you're just a waste of space, resources, and money. Damn shame Billy doesn't see it yet, but don't worry, he will." She laughed again, "He'll get tired of reopening your lip every time you kiss. It's so pathetic and ugly, he'll start to crave what you can't offer. I mean, seriously, what guy with any self-respect wants to date a girl as broken as you?"

"Know what, Brittany?" You growled, balling your fists at your side. "I'll give you one free hit."

"Excuse me, what?"

"Yeah," your head nodded, "go ahead. One free, clean shot. Hit me if you want to so bad, but you'll only get just this one shot."

Her eyes rolled, "I don't need to, your mom's got that covered."

"Free hit, Brit," you taunted, gesturing, "c'mon, go 'head, lemme have it. Since I'm so insufferable, go right ahead - get your clean hit."

Jennifer and Jasmine shared strange looks, the latter nudging, "Just do it, Brittany, shut this stupid bitch the hell up."

"Yeah, Brittany, shut me the hell up."

She looked to her little goons with a smirk, shrugged and handing over her backpack. When Brittany turned again, she dramatically wound her arm back and used her full strength to swing her fist into your cheek; only making your head turn a fraction from impact. You hummed and nodded, the cheerleader laughing with her girls as if she had "shown you" - but her amusement died when she noticed you barely reacted.

You smirked, cracking your neck, "My turn!"

Your knuckle cracked the bridge of the cheerleader's nose - sick sound of a snap ringing in your ears and jolting the girl's head backwards; momentum forcing her to stumble. Brittany shrieked in pain, holding her nose, unable to defend herself as you launched your attack; first slamming her back into the lockers before jabbing your fist into any vulnerable spot you could.

Similar to the movies, you held Brittany by her hair to keep her in place; wailing your punches repeatedly, each hit making Britt bang into the lockers. Jennifer and Jasmine tried to pull you away but both earned their own punches or elbows to the face for the interference. You focused on Brittany, instantly curating a flock of students all eager to watch.

"FIIIIIIGHT!"

"GIRL FIGHT!"

"BEAT HER ASS, Y/N!"

Brittany sobbed as blood dribbled down her front, staining her pretty uniform, but you were just getting started. The hallway turned noisy, a circle forming around you four as all three cheerleaders were staved off; you running on pure anger, adrenaline, and overflowing frustration that encouraged your foot to kick Britt's gut. You'd never admit it, but Brittany's mocking had hurt you past words, made you feel vulnerable, disarmed, as if you were damaged, undeserving goods. With each punch or kick or stomp, you remembered a different instance of your mother's abuse, seeing her face instead of Brittany's; spurring you on with unrestrained force.

In the parking lot, Billy was leaning on his car with a few teammates from the basketball team and enjoying a hearty nicotine-filled break. Though they'd never label it as such, the boys exchanged idle gossip; listening to Conrad Jones detail his latest conquest, sneering about how "easy" Kennedy Stephens was. They were interrupted when Kyle Lambert sprinted up to them, sneakers skidding over asphalt, panting dramatically, "Billy! Billy! Y-You gotta come see this, man! You gotta help!"

"What?" He asked, taking a drag from his cigarette.

"I-It's your girl - it's Y/N!"

He pushed off his car that was supporting his weight, demanding, "What about her?"

"You gotta come quick, man, you gotta see this! It's fucking wild! Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine tried jumping her - "

Billy was surging across the carpark instantly, tossing his cigarette away before yanking the school doors open. He was instantly greeted by the chaotic sight and sounds of a fight, peers gathered in a large circle; screaming their support and hollering encouragement.

"Billy! Oh, thank God!!" Chrissy Cunningham cried, waving him closer. "You have to help! You have to do something, it's 3-on-1!"

He didn't acknowledge the strawberry blonde, just started instantly shoving through the crowd to reach the edge of the fight. It wasn't the sight he was anticipating - fearing the worst, now pleasantly surprised (and a little turned on).

Blood was splattered on the linoleum floors, a single streak smeared on the lockers. Jennifer was left on the ground with her back against the metal, sporting a busted lip as Jasmine was trying to coax her to her feet - sporting a ruddy face and disheveled look. Left in the center, to the entertainment of the crowd, was you on top of Brittany Carver, heaving your fist time and again into her face.

"Shit," he breathed, intending to step forward to stop the fight but needing to shove Tommy H. out of his way when he stepped forward.

"C'mon, man! It's a girl fight! Don't break it up!" Tommy begged, but Billy bullied through.

"All right, that's enough," he grunted, wrapping his arms around your middle and heaving you up and back a step - needing to engage his core and arms when you wriggled in an effort to free yourself. "Hey, hey, hey - "

"Lemme go! This bitch needs put in the ground!"

"Jesus Christ, when did you get this strong?" He grunted, your feet slipping on blood but still being restrained by your boyfriend's impressive strength.

"Talk your shit again, bitch!" You barked at Brittany, who was sobbing in pain and curling into herself. "Lemme hear you say another Goddamn word, you'll need more than another nose job! Fake ass, plastic bitch!"

Jason joined the center and knelt at his sister's side, helping her sit up, glaring at you and Billy. Your boyfriend grit his teeth when Jason snarled, "You need to muzzle your bitch, Billy!"

"I'll fuck you up for talkin' about her like that, Carver, don't provoke me. Watch yourself," Billy snapped in warning, successfully managing to get you behind him.

However, you dodged around him with only enough time to spit hatefully on Brittany, warning, "You wanna talk shit, you'll get hit! Don't let me hear you again - don't you ever dare say another word about my mama! I'll put you in the ground, bitch, fucking try me! I dare you! Try me again, say shit about my mama, and see what the fuck I do!"

"All right, all right, you made your point," Billy stiffly told you, pulling you away by force to avoid you actually killing Brittany. He got a look at her injuries, thinking there must've been more than a broken nose from the way her uniform was stained and her entire face bloodied. "C'mon, we gotta get outta here, come with me - c'mon, baby, you can't touch her anymore, you made your point, you'll end up killin' her or some shit," he panted, shoving through the crowd and effectively ending the fight.

Billy didn't let go of your form until finally outside - letting you rip yourself away as your blood boiled, adrenaline making you much stronger. He watched you pace; huffing, puffing, seething, all but gnashing your teeth hatefully. "That fucking bitch had it coming, Bee, it was self defense!" You finally explained.

"Oh, yeah, princess, totally looked like it," he scoffed, blocking the doors in case you tried to go back. He lit another cigarette.

"It was, you condescending asshole!" You snapped, eyes ablaze and anger tangible. "She approached me, she ran her mouth, and she hit me first!"

"Well," he sighed, "whatever the reason, it's not worth jail time for beating her to death."

"Might be."

"Ain't nothing worth throwing your life away," he offered you the cigarette, but you refused. "Why don't you just tell me what happened? What'd she say?"

"It doesn't matter, Billy."

"I think it matters when she looks like she's gonna need a blood transfusion to replenish what she's lost."

"Whatever - let it be a lesson that you shouldn't throw stones if you're scared of a boulder."

Billy sighed, smoke blown from his mouth, "C'mon, doll, tell me what happened?"

"Doesn't matter, it's done, it's over, it's in the past."

"Baby, I can't help you if you don't talk to me."

"You can't help, period, Billy! There's nothing you can do!"

"Well, you're not even letting me try!"

"'Cause it's redundant!"

"Obviously not when you look like a raging bull!"

Your eyes rolled, head shaking, "I handled it."

"I saw," he scoffed. "So, 3-on-1? How'd that happen?"

"I told you, they approached me."

"Well, I'm gonna need a little more to go on. C'mon, pretty girl, the fuck just happened? You know you can get suspended!" This made you freeze, muscles clamming up, looking purely petrified as if the thought hadn't occurred to you. "I know you don't want that, but if you talk to me, maybe I can help lessen whatever punishment."

"Oh, whatever, like I care about being punished," you snipped, hands twisting together - telling Billy you were beginning to get anxious.

"I think you do, it'd put you in the house with your mom alone," he trailed, pushing away from the doors to approach you like a baby deer. "C'mon, I know you don't wanna get suspended, so just tell me what happened."

"I'm sure you'll hear all about it from your little basketball buddies."

"I don't fucking care!" He snapped with the cigarette trapped and bobbing between his lips, making you look at him in mild shock. "There's gonna be a hundred different rumors, whole fuckin' school watched you beat the shit outta those girls - but I only care about what you have to say."

"There's no point - "

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he growled, snatching the cig between his knuckles, "I just saw three bitches on the ground, all injured, beaten up, bleeding - so stop being so Goddamn stubborn and just tell me! I'm tryna help you!"

"You pulled me off of her, you've helped plenty."

"I'd like to understand how this happened."

"It won't change anything."

"No, it won't, but you have a side to the story. Tell me what went wrong? What happened?"

You sighed, no longer pacing, planting both hands on your hips. Your head shook as Billy tossed the filtered cigarette butt aside, muttering when he exhaled the last of the smoke, "It seems so stupid now."

"Hey," he soothed, crowding into your space and taking one of your hands in his. "Whatever it is, I'm sure it wasn't stupid. You're forgetting, I know well enough to understand you wouldn't throw a punch unless absolutely necessary. Whatever got you riled up like that ain't stupid, sweetheart."

Like a glazed donut, your eyes turned glassy. Billy frowned and took your other hand off your hip, forcing your attention on him. "I swear, I didn't start it," you whispered.

"Only matters that you finished it," he smirked. "Tell me, what the fuck was all that?"

You sighed deeply, offering meekly, "Guess they had it comin'..."

"I know they did," Billy chuckled. "Nobody's that stupid to provoke you, except Brittany."

"I was at my locker... They approached and slammed it shut."

"Right, okay..."

"There were words exchanged, but Brittany, she - " You paused, swallowing thickly, "she started talkin' shit about my mom, about, you know, what she does..."

Billy understood instantly. "You fuckin' serious?" He growled, seeing you nod and fill him in on what was said - unable to look him in the eye as you relived your anger. By the end, you were trembling in emotion and adrenaline loss, Billy sighing deeply and yanking you into his chest for a tight embrace. "All right, yeah," he mumbled, "should've put them bitches in the ground."

"And now," you sniffled, "I'm gonna get suspended, forced to stay home with Ma all next week."

"We'll get you outta it."

"Can't, the school doesn't tolerate fighting on school grounds."

"You said she swung first?"

"Technically, yes. I might've - allegedly - prompted her into it."

"It's still selfdefense, toots, no matter what you or anyone said - if she swung first and hit you, you were only defending yourself."

You shrugged, resting on his chest, "You see the damage? Admin won't care who swung first - not when they're beat to shit."

"Yeah, there's my li'l hothead," he smirked, chuckling slightly before pecking the top of your head. "But you gotta admit, it's impressive how you took on all three."

"I guess, doesn't exactly feel like an accomplishment."

"Nah, princess, seriously," he pulled you back to look at him again, "that's fuckin' hot. I mean, they approached you and still got their asses handed to 'em. That's straight skill."

"Or just a lot of anger with nowhere to go," you frowned. "Think I should go find admin?"

"Nah, they'll probably find you - "

The doors opened and your name was called, the principal's secretary waving you to her. "Fuck," you whispered, releasing Billy.

"I'll come with you," he promised, lacing your fingers together when he took your hand. Billy had to admit, it was a little weird being in the principal's office but not being the one in trouble; waiting without patience in a fraying chair, picking at the exposed stuffing with his leg bouncing. He'd been there 45 minutes, skipping the last half of classes, just waiting as you were behind a closed door with the principal, vice principal, and the disciplinary officer.

He looked up when the school nurse lead Brittany, Jennifer, and Jasmine inside - glaring at them but admiring the scattering of cuts and bruises with dried blood on their precious uniforms. A few minutes later, you were exiting the office with a passive and neutral expression settled on your face. Your lip curled only slightly when you clocked the cheerleaders - hating how smug they all looked - approaching Billy instantly.

"You all right?" He checked, standing and adjusting his jeans.

"Mhm," you nodded, keeping your voice low as the principal called the three cheerleaders into his office. You waited until the door was closed, then informed with a smirk, "I'm not suspended."

"No?"

"Nope," you confirmed. "Apparently, they asked a couple other kids what happened and my story matches theirs. I was minding my business, they came up to me, they started mouthing off, and Brittany was the one who hit me first. So," you shrugged, "guess your idea of selfdefense held strong."

"See? That's good, huh?"

"Yeah," you sighed, nodding absently, "but he said the girls were gonna lose their spot on the cheer squad for this. Listen, I don't think I feel like goin' back to class - kinda just wanna take a nap."

Billy hiked up his jean jacket sleeve, consulting his watch for a moment. "Wanna head to mine? Neil's got the evening shift and Susan has bridge club for a few more hours - we'd be alone."

Your eyes rolled, "No offense, Bee, I don't feel like fucking right now."

"I'm not sayin' that, I'm sayin' let's go nap at mine," he chuckled, picking up your backpack that you forgot about. "We can come back to get your brothers but you know you're not gonna rest if you go home."

You gulped, sighing sadly, "Yeah, well, about that..."

"Something else happen?"

"Apparently... The school has an obligation to call the police if a student reports abuse."

"You reported your mom?"

"Not on purpose," you rushed in defense, "just that... I had to explain what Brittany said to me - so I had to admit what Ma did - or does."

Billy frowned, "Jesus."

"Yeah, so... Maybe going home isn't the smartest idea right now. I wouldn't wanna be there when they conduct their wellness check."

"You wanna stay at mine?" He offered.

"What about Neil?"

"He's a lot nicer with you around," he admitted. "Won't care too much if you stay the night. Plus Max has that club thing after school, then she's going to the arcade; so, she won't need a ride, we can just go."

"You know what? Sure, all right, I'll come to yours," you accepted, your lover boy whisking you away without a second thought. "Thank you, baby."

Your hands were stiff, and when you looked at them, noted split skin and stained blood as a reminder of your aggression... Wondering why the fuck people pushed you to these limits and acted surprised when you reacted? If they wanted a punching bag, they picked the wrong one - but you were willing to remind them.

When you got to the Hargrove residence, you were silent as the grave; stewing in your anger that rolled off you in projected waves. Billy was terribly disarmed, unsure how to properly comfort you - wondering how he would want to be comforted, realizing he'd want to be alone, not subject to anyone's bullshit advice. So, he did what he knew and after handing you a bag of frozen peas for your split knuckles, comfortably stripped and crashed in bed with the window cracked and a rolled joint between his fingers.

You rested on his bare chest, sighing deeply while watching the end of the spliff come to life in a smoldering ember. Billy took the first inhale to make sure it was lit and instantly handed it to you, his arm snug around you and the silence hanging in the air like the swirls of stale, exhaled smoke.

"I'm sorry it got to this point, pretty girl," He offered awkwardly, his other arm bending to prop under his head. Both of you stared off aimlessly, stereo filling the space dully in the background.

"Not your fault," You inhaled and held your breath, handing him the joint. He casually flicked the end in an ashtray resting on the window sill.

"No, but I could've done more."

You chuckled, smoke seeping through your lips and teeth, "Oh, yeah? How? You gonna beat up three girls?"

"Nah but I could beat the shit outta Jason."

"What good would that do?"

"If he didn't want a weekly black eye, Jason would control his sister."

"It's always about control with you, isn't it?"

"I'm just saying," he handed the joint back, lungs pinched to hold the smoke, "I could protect you."

"You already do, baby."

"Let me do more, princess."

"You can't fight every battle for me."

"You could let me try."

"You'd be fighting on two fronts," you frowned, exhaling slowly. "Can't fight for me when you're defending yourself against Neil."

"Might be easier to deal with your shit than my own," he chuckled without humor, accepting the spliff. "Look, I know you don't want me involved, but that's kinda what a boyfriend's supposed to do, right? Protect their woman?"

"I wouldn't know."

"Never had a boyfriend before?"

"Nobody was worth dating until you. Nobody could understand me the way you do so effortlessly."

"'Cause we're one and the same, baby girl. You don't have to do everything by yourself," he inhaled, handing the spliff over again, "don't always have t'be strong."

"Ain't no other choice."

"You could let me in more..."

"You're one to talk."

He sighed, smoke billowing. "You're right. Can't expect you to open up if I don't, so why don't we both try to let the other in more? Yeah, I get it, the shit we deal with ain't pretty but at least we understand each other, right? We're the best for each other to lean on."

"I don't wanna drag you into my bullshit, baby."

"I want you to drag me in, princess. I wanna help you."

You sighed, "Well, Brittany and her cronies are getting suspended and kicked off the cheer squad - they'll be looking for reason to take it out on me."

"Say the word, baby, and I'll beat Jason black-and-blue."

"You're so romantic."

"Only for you - so don't tell anyone. I got a reputation to protect."

You both snickered as the weed you indulged in took effect, lulling you two into a state of ease. Your knuckles had stopped burning, resting your injured hand under the frozen peas, reminding yourself to remain grateful in this turbulent period of life because now, you had someone on your team. Someone who wanted to help carry your baggage. Someone without alternate motives. Someone who was willing to withstand the storm in the hope of feeling the warmth of the sun again.

requesting rules and masterlist

Stranger Things masterlist

[cilil]

The more I dig into the lore around the Second Kinslaying for my current project, the more I'm fascinated by the detail that it was specifically Dior who killed Celegorm. That's one of the main details we get, we aren't even explicitly told who killed Dior, Nimloth, Curufin and Caranthir, just that they were slain.

Celegorm meets his end at the hands of the son of the woman he tried to marry, the son of the couple he fought against and I just love it when narrative threads come full circle (or parallel one another).

I know opinions differ in regards to the level of sexual or romantic interest Celegorm had in Lúthien, as well as the exact appearance of Dior, but this is why I love having him look like a male copy of his mother. I love the idea that Celegorm, in a way, sees her face one more time, but this time it's Dior's. I love the idea that the opponent he fights to the death looks like Lúthien. I love the idea that Dior's face may have been the last thing he saw.

And yes, I also love the idea that Dior may have wanted revenge for what happened to his mother.

If you then put the Silmaril aside for a moment, you can see a more private, personal conflict at the heart of this tragedy: Dior vs Celegorm, though Dior, true to his name meaning "successor", acts as a sort of stand-in for Beren, Lúthien and Thingol in Celegorm's perception.

It's just... ugh. So very fascinating and emotional and tragic.

[edwinspaynes]

Re: The DBDA fandom is dying (inspired by @crafteeauthor)

Can't speak for other creators but:

Am I uploading fewer fics than I used to? Yes! But what you don't see is that I'm writing a 100k word longfic in most of my writing time. This is true of many writers in the fandom, too! We all are devastated by cancelation and are working on long projects to get justice for our faves.

But for my shorter oneshots, fine. I have been getting fewer hits on my DBDA fanfic lately but the hits-to-kudos ratio is genuinely insane. Like, for every 2-3 hits I'm getting a kudo. I'm getting a veritable smorgasbord of comments at that.

(Also the hits are far from bad like I get 500 regularly still. They're just, like, not like the 2k-3k I'd get in the beginning.)

Plus, the fan events on here like @dbdpromptober (the one I've been doing) are immense successes!

Sure, some more casual fans are dropping off, but the fans who engage are staying. The fans who CREATE are staying, based on the sheer volume of wonderful fanworks (art, fics, etc) we're getting daily.

This is very obviously becoming a creative community that is here for the long haul. Which is wonderful, a rare and beautiful thing.

Also! The magnitude of people who are still discovering the show is awesome. Every day, I'm seeing new people in the tags going "just watched Dead Boy Detectives and learned it was CANCELED!?!?"

Like, the community is growing! Please!!

As someone whose other main fandom genuinely did die out after the last book was released, this is not what the death of a fandom looks like at all.

So don't worry! We're clearly in a Fireflyesque situation, and as Charles once said, we're not going anywhere.

[lenaswritingandstuff]

Not alone • Harry Potter x f!reader

Pairing: Harry Potter x f!reader

Summary: After spending some time with your crush Harry, and while on your way to Hogsmeade, you decide you don't want him to be alone.

Word Count: 1.3K

Warnings: Fluff, English is not my first language!

A/N: Had this idea (which was supposed to be a drabble but oh well) while watching the third movie yesterday. Harry and y/n are supposed to be in their third year (to stay true to the books) but feel 100% free to imagine them being older if it makes you more comfortable. Enjoy! Comments and reblogs are deeply appreciated :)

The one thing new third years in Hogwarts were looking forward to the most was the fact that, after hearing their elders talking about how awesome all the shops in Hogsmeade were and all these rumors about the Shrieking Shack, they were finally allowed to go too. When you received your permission form, you immediately went to your parents so they could sign it. Soon, your friends wrote to you about how fun the trips to the village would be, and you answered , genuinely, that you were just as excited. 

So when it was time for the new year to start and to get inside the Hogwarts express, your friends were already talking about it while looking for a compartment. After a while, you ran into three people, and you recognized them immediately, not only because they were in your year, but also because of them was your crush - Harry Potter. You immediately felt your heart beating faster and your cheeks becoming hotter, especially when, when he was about to enter a compartment after Hermione, he turned his head towards you, and seeing you, waved.

“Hi, y/n.”

You cleared your throat, trying to pull yourself back together, and managed to smile back.

“Hi, Harry.” 

He gave you one last smile before going into the compartment, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. Your friends didn’t know you had a silly crush on the Boy who Lived, as you knew they wouldn’t stop teasing you about it if they did know, so you kept your disappointment - and hope of the dark haired boy truly noticing you - to yourself. He talked to you sometimes, and you two were sometimes paired together for group projects which all ended in a very good grade - and even a correct one with Snape - and he was nice and friendly, but you felt like he acted the same with most of your classmates, which made you believe that your crush wasn’t reciprocated. 

The next month, the visits to Hogsmeade started, and you and your friends were just as excited as the other students. The day before the first visit, you went to the common room sometime after class and found Harry there, a book open before him - but it was obvious he wasn’t reading it, as he looked lost in his thoughts. There were only you two here, and you didn’t know whether you should go and talk to him or not. Gathering up some courage, you walked up to him.

“That book seems fascinating,” you teased.

Coming back to reality, Harry raised his head towards you and smiled.

“Oh, hum, yes,” he said. “We’re supposed to read it for Binns and write something about it.” 

“Ah, yeah, that one. I planned to do it tonight, too.”

And before you realized what you said, Harry answered.

“Oh. Well, we can do it together if you want?” 

You looked at him, incapable of speaking, and after a while, Harry cleared his throat. 

“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to, I know you have good grades in that class…”

“No!” you almost screamed. “I mean, of course we can do it together. I’d love to.” 

“Cool,” Harry said, nodding slightly. “Well, you should take a seat.” 

“Oh, of course, sorry.”

You felt yourself blushing, feeling horrible for being so awkward around him, but he didn’t seem to notice or care. The two of you started doing your homework, but soon started to talk about other topics like Quidditch or Professor Hagrid’s classes, not noticing the people coming and going. You guys laughed a lot too, and for the first time, it felt easy to talk to him. You still managed to finish the homework, and when you did, it was already time for dinner.

“Maybe we should go, don’t you think?” Harry asked. 

“Yes,” you nodded.

You two went to put your bags in your respective dorms before meeting again in the common room a minute after, and went together to the Great Hall. Here, you saw your friends as well as Hermione and Ron, and wondered if Harry would decide to rather stay with them than with you, but you ended up sitting next to him, and actually talked a lot with him, inadvertently forgetting about your friends. After dinner, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, you and Harry walked together back to the common room, still chatting. 

“y/n?”

You turned your head and saw your friend Parvati.

“Sorry to interrupt, but it’s time to go to bed.” 

“Oh.”

You looked around and saw that the rest of the Gryffindor house had already gone to their dorms.

“I guess you’re right.” you said before turning back to Harry. “Well, good night, Harry.”

“Good night, y/n.”

The next day, everyone in your class was talking about going to Hogsmeade, which made you realize you maybe should have asked Harry if he was going.  The afternoon came, and you rolled your eyes when hearing Draco Malfoy brag about whatever new expensive thing his father had bought him, and went to the courtyard to join the students who were allowed to go to the village. After giving your signed permission form to Filch, you saw Hermione and Ron, and looked for Harry, who usually wasn’t far away, and saw him talking to Professor McGonnagall. You couldn’t hear what they were saying, but seeing Harry’s face, it couldn’t be something positive. You saw your Professor shaking her head, and after walking away a bit, going back to him and petting him on the shoulder in a compassionate gesture. You wanted to go and talk to him, feeling sad for him, but Professor McGonnagall gently touched your elbow.

You followed Parvati into the dorm you shared, and fell into an easy sleep, dreaming of a boy with green eyes and a scar on his forehead.

“Let’s get going, Miss y/l/n.” 

You nodded, and turned back your head. Harry was still here, and your eyes met before he turned on his heels and went back inside the castle. Your friends actually waited for you, so it was easy to catch up with them, but as you approached Hogsmeade, you couldn’t help but think how Harry and how alone he must be feeling at this moment. Pondering whether you should go back to stay with him and if he wanted you to stay with him, you decided on the second option. Ignoring your friends’ confused questions and calls, you turned and ran back to the school, and, catching your breath, you went to look for the boy you had your heart. You started looking in the common room, but there was only the kind Neville. 

“Neville?” you asked. “Have you seen Harry?”

“Yes,” he nodded, “I saw him minutes ago, he was going to the library.” 

“Thank you,” you smiled.

You almost ran to the library, and found him sitting alone, a fist holding his cheek. He saw you when you came closer to the table, still a bit breathless.

“y/n? You’re not in Hogsmeade?” he asked, confused.

“I was going, but…” you gulped and had a small smile. “I…I didn’t want you to be alone.” 

Harry looked at you, not speaking a word, and after a moment, his silence made you doubt if you made the good decision.

“I mean, hum…I’d understand if you wanted to be alone, though? I…I can leave.” 

Feeling like you were gonna die of embarrassment, you quickly turned around to leave but you heard a chair moving and, seconds after, a hand on your arm. 

“y/n, wait!”

You stopped your pace, and when you turned around to face Harry, his hand was still on your arm.

“I’m sorry. I just wasn’t expecting you to come back for me. I…Maybe we can go eat chocolate by the fireplace in the common room?” 

You smiled, and felt your heart beater faster than ever.

“I’d love that very much.” 

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Masterlist

[sagesskies]

ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ꜱᴘɪʀɪᴛ

✒ ɴᴏᴛ ᴇᴠᴇɴ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ ᴄᴀɴ ᴅᴏ ʏᴏᴜ ᴘᴀʀᴛ

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱɪɴᴄᴇʀᴇʟʏ ᴀᴘᴏʟᴏɢɪᴢᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ᴛʜᴇ ᴅᴇʟᴀʏ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛ 2 ᴏꜰ ʏᴀɴᴅᴇʀᴇ ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀʏ ɢᴏᴅ, ʜᴇ ᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇꜱ ʏᴏᴜ ɪᴛ ɪꜱ ɴᴇᴀʀʟʏ ꜰɪɴɪꜱʜᴇᴅ. ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴀɴ ᴛɪᴍᴇ, ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ.

ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ɪɴᴄʟᴜᴅᴇꜱ: ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴꜱ ᴏꜰ ʜᴏᴍᴏᴘʜᴏʙɪᴀ, ᴄʜᴇᴀᴛɪɴɢ [ᴛʜᴇ ɢɪʀʟ ɪꜱ ʜɪꜱ ʙᴇᴀʀᴅ], ꜱᴡᴇᴀʀɪɴɢ, ᴠɪᴏʟᴇɴᴄᴇ, ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ꜱᴍᴏᴋɪɴɢ, ɢʜᴏꜱᴛ ꜱʜᴇɴᴀɴɪɢᴀɴꜱ, ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍɪʟᴅ ꜱᴇxᴜᴀʟ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ, ᴅᴜʙᴄᴏɴ, ᴛᴇʟʟ ᴍᴇ ɪꜰ ɪ ᴍɪꜱꜱᴇᴅ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴇʟꜱᴇ!

Yandere Spirit who was your secret boyfriend in high school. A forbidden romance between two youths, who often got to keep their secret because it’d always be excused as just ‘Boys being boys’. He was the most popular boy in school, his older brother was just as popular, but he was even more so. 

Yandere Spirit who was good looking, kind hearted, intelligent, and athletically talented as well. You never knew how you were able to get with a guy like him, you were simply another guy on the track team, and he was not only the team’s star but also the captain. 

Yandere Spirit who was possessive of you, even in life. He’d always claim you as his partner for group projects, even if there were smarter kids in class, and whenever there was an opportunity he'd always insist you wear his track jacket that had his last name on the back. 

Yandere Spirit who still dated other girls, and you tried not to mind so much. They were just a cover, he told you that and you knew it to be true, both of you were aware of what happened to gay boys in this town. He understood more than you, because his older brother Tommy was one of them, and he ran away when he was seventeen. 

Yandere Spirit who remains oblivious to how much his behavior with his girlfriends bother you. You never liked how he was always so physically intimate with them. Yeah, it'd be expected of a couple but did he have to do it so much? God, you can't bear to watch this.

Yandere Spirit who always notices how you distance yourself from him whenever he has a new girlfriend, and one day confronts you about it.

“Cmoon, [Name], why won't you just tell me!” Raphael practically whines, he refused to let go of your hand. You were both part of the track and field team but with his strength you'd argue he could be a football player. 

When you still didn't reply, he huffs, looks around to see if anybody else was around, then pulls you in close, perching his head on top of yours despite your protests. 

“Please babe?” God you never liked it when he called you babe, but you let him anyway, “Tell me what's bothering you…” He sounds like he's near to tears but you keep your lips shut.

“Raph, seriously I'm fine,” You insist, even though you're really not. 

The whole day, you had to hang around Raphael and his new girlfriend. It wasn't so bad, Raph made sure that you were included in the conversation and his girl, Cheryl you think her name was, was actually very nice. 

Your problem with the situation was seeing your boyfriend being all sweet and cuddly with his new beard the same way he always was with you. Well, there was the fact that he was technically cheating on you- But that's not the big issue here! 

Unfortunately for you, you shared a good quarter of your classes with the two lovebirds, and eventually you just distanced yourself from them till you were able to handle the sight of the two of them together. 

Even more unfortunately, was Raph's clinginess to you. When he saw you start to drift away, he immediately pulled you back in and when you decided to just ignore them as best as possible without looking rude, he caught on to that too. 

“Ugh, I know you're lying [Name],” Raphael pouted, “Come on, remember how we promised each other no secrets between us? Don't tell me you forgot!” 

You rolled your eyes, “Anybody would forget Raph, you made me say it in the 2nd grade.” 

“Still!” He protested, “Just tell me already [Name].” You could feel his grip get tighter around you, he was getting impatient. 

“Was it something I did?” Yes. 

“Does it have to do with Cheryl?” Yes. 

“Oh come on, don't tell me you're jealous of her!” It was Raph’s turn to roll his eyes, “Babe you know I'm only using her as a cover.” 

You glared at him, “Doesn't mean you have to be so touchy with her.” 

“She's my new girlfriend,” He used air quotes when he said the word girlfriend, “Gonna have to act like I’m head over heels for her to sell the act.” 

You knew he was right, he was saying the exact same things you told yourself whenever you tried to stop the ugly green monster that was envy from rearing its head. 

“Besides, don’t you think you kinda deserve it?” 

Your eyes widen, and you frown, “What? What do you mean?” Raphael shrugged, “I mean, you’re always tusslin’ and getting all up close with the other guys in the team,” His voice had a bitter edge to it, “I’m your boyfriend,” His hold on you strengthened, “It’s like I’m forced to watch you feel up all these other guys when the only ass you should be groping is mine.” 

“Do you hear how silly you sound right now?” You deadpanned, “It’s just guys being guys, most of us have been wrestling each other since we were kids.” 

He groans, “Ugh, but that doesn’t change that they still get to touch you so much!” 

You sigh, perhaps you and him weren’t so different after all. Not when both of you were so petty as to get jealous because of just, a really plain stupid reason. 

So you pat him on the back, and comfort him like you would a child throwing a tantrum. Till he stops whining, and you apologize to each other, then you continue to pretend that it doesn’t bother you when he presses a kiss to a girl’s lips, when he holds her hand, or even plays with her hair. 

And you pretend like he’s not playing with your heart. 

Yandere Spirit who you watch as he competes with his brother Gabriel over your younger sister, a popular junior who was vice-captain of the cheerleading team. Sometimes when he kisses you, you can’t help but think that this is the same tongue that flirts with your sister. 

Yandere Spirit who you accompany when his brother tells him to meet in the woods near Varenway cliff. Sure he was told to go alone, but you never trusted Gabe, he was always too intense for your liking. It was why he’d never be as popular as his brother. 

Yandere Spirit who you can only watch as he gets into a fight with his brother, held back by the stronger arms of Gabe’s football teammates who tease and mock you all while assuring Gabe won’t hurt Raphael too badly.

You thrash in their grip like a wild animal refusing to be caged, you kick at their feet, try to slam your head back into their stupid faces, but regardless of your attempts you are still stuck. 

“Let go of me, you assholes!” You practically spit. 

One of them, your classmate Sam Moss, sneers at you, then turns to his friend, who you recognize as Luke Herring, “Should we let [Name] go Luke?” 

Luke lets out a dumb laugh, “Huhuhu, naahh,” His tone is calm like an afternoon breeze, but his eyes are filled with only malice, “I don’t think we should Sam.” 

You click your tongue and tune out the rest of their words, they think they’re so intimidating just because they hang around Gabe, who nobody dares to pick a fight with, but they’re nothing more but tiny little pups who think the wolf’s shadow is their own. 

Instead you focus your gaze onto Raphael, who moves quicker than Gabe, but whenever a hit is able to land, it lands hard. Your heart clenches when you see the newly forming bruise above Raph’s brow, his busted lip, but you force yourself to remain silent. Raph can handle himself, and you hated to admit to it but Sam and Luke were right, Gabe may be dumb but he wasn’t that dumb to let Raph get seriously hurt. 

But still, for every hit that Raph gets in, Gabe lands another solid punch. Raph’s blood stains Gabe’s fists, and his beautiful face is marred. Gabe himself does not even need to catch his breath, the only evidence of exhaustion is a light sheen of sweat. 

You feel a sharp tug on your head, and you wince, Luke grabs your hair and has a look of anger on his face. 

“Little shit, fuckin’ pay attention to us damnit!” His spit flies in your face, and you grimace, “Should fuckin’ teach you a lesson for such disrespect.” 

Sam cackles like a hyena, “Ha! I don’t think Gabe would mind us roughin’ this arrogant prick up a bit,” In his eyes there is a hunger for violence, and you suppress the urge to shiver, you get what your mother means now when she says that men are like animals. You’ve never felt more like prey before now. 

You try to ignore them, and the fear that slowly builds in your chest, to get one last glimpse at Raph. But all you see is his head hanging low, and being grabbed by Gabe, whose bruised hands are curled tightly around his collar, before you are thrown down into the floor, and Luke gets on top of you. 

His sleeves are pulled back, and he draws back his fist for a punch, but before he can Sam who is still watching the fight, gasps, and Luke turns to see what has happened. Their eyes widen, but all you can hear that tells you of what just happened is a distant sickening crunch. 

Luke gets off of you and both he and Sam run to Gabe, who is looking down the cliff. Where is Raph? 

You get up, legs shaky for a bit before you steel your resolve and steady, you voice your thoughts, “Where's Raph?” 

When you get no response, the fear that was building from the fear of Luke getting his meaty hands on you is now growing from the possibility that Gabe let his anger get the best of him. At the thought of it, it is not only fear budding within you, but also anger. 

You march over to Gabe, and with strength you didn’t have before you grab him by the back of his collar and turn him around so you and him were now eye-to-eye, “Did you push him off, Gabriel?” Your voice is shaky, from fury, from anxiety, from both, you do not know. When you receive no response, you grit your teeth, and shake him violently, “Answer me, you bastard!” 

Gabriel’s eyes go wide, and his mouth parts but there are no words that leave his lips. But then he nods, and your sudden burst of strength fizzles away, and your hands let go of him. You walk, one step backward, another, and then another, and you fall on your own bottom, and your hands go to your head. Raph loved to do the same thing, hand going to the top of your head and holding it gently, sometimes just laying there together, his hand on your head and both of you quiet together.

You cannot let them see your tears, you cannot. But the dam breaks, and you start to sob. 

You hear them speak, Gabe, Sam, and Luke. However, you don’t want to listen to them. They killed him. Sam and Luke had less blood on their hands, but they were the ones who restrained you. If they didn’t then- Then maybe you could- You could… You don’t know. You don’t know, you don’t know. 

Gabe is standing in front of you, arms crossed, “Get up, [L/N],” His voice was gruff, nothing like Raph’s who always sounded like he was singing or speaking poetry, “Unless you want to end up like Raph did, you’ll do as I say.” Gabe was cruel too, nothing like Raph. 

Hesitantly, you get up, and wipe away the tears on your face. Sam and Luke who were looking at you like you were no better than the dirt on their shoe, now look at you with slight pity. It was no secret in school that you and Raphael were the best of friends, but they wouldn’t be looking at you so if they knew what you two were really like. 

You go down the cliff with them, traversing through the steep and rocky terrain. Till you arrived at the bottom, where Raph’s body lay. The blood had stopped flowing by then, or perhaps there was simply too much to look like there was more accumulating. Luke covers the bottom half of his face, Sam turns his head away, and only you and Gabe can look at the corpse. 

You glance at him, his face is like stone. You wonder if he regrets what he’s done tonight over your sister, but you can’t bring yourself to ask him without feeling like bile was going to start creeping up your throat. 

You help them carry the body deeper into the woods, Luke and Sam go to get the shovel Sam’s dad always kept in the back of his truck, and you are left with the boy who killed your lover. 

Both of you are silent, and your eyes go to look at his bruised knuckles stained with Raph’s blood. You must’ve been staring because he glares at you, “What? You wanna join Raph in his grave?” 

You know you should stay silent, but you’ve had enough of that. 

“It’d be better than having to bury him, that’s for sure,” You snarl out, you want to sock him across the face, but you’d have less impact than Raphael did, “You’re a monster.” 

“He got what was coming to him,” Gabriel clenched his fists, “If it wouldn’t be me, it may have been you.” 

You flinch, “The hell are you talking about Gabe?” You? Kill Raph? If that was meant to be a joke it wasn’t very funny. But Gabe had the same amount of charm as a donkey’s ass so it probably shouldn’t have surprised you.

“You think I’m blind, [L/N]?” A smirk forms on his face, it looks like Raphael's but at the same time it couldn’t be more different, “Everybody’s seen how you look at him and his girlfriends.” 

Your heart raced, did- Did he know? Did everybody know? If so, why weren’t you getting picked on? Raphael may have been the most popular guy in school, but even he would get harassed by some jerk. 

“You don’t get to chastise me for shit like this when you’re jealous of all the girls he gets,” At first you’re surprised he knows the word chastise, but when he accuses you of that, you laugh. You laugh like you would at a joke Raphael made, and when you realize that you start to cry. 

Gabe looks like he’s going to make fun of you, but thinks better of it when he sees the tears racing down your face and makes an expression of discomfort. 

Sam and Luke return, and by that time you’ve dried your tears. Gabe and Luke, the stronger ones, start to dig the grave, and Sam lights a cigarette. He hesitates, and then offers you one, a peace offering of sorts. 

You take it, even if you’ve never smoked before, and you cough as the smoke fills your lungs. 

“Sorry about Raphael,” He says, there is no cruelty, there is no mockery, only remorse for the blood that has been spilled, “Didn’t know him much, but I knew you two were close.” 

You take another puff, and you cough less this time, “It shouldn’t be you who’s apologizing,” You glare at Gabriel, who is digging his own twin brother’s grave. Sam follows your gaze, and he purses his lips, but then he nods.

You crush the cigarette under your shoe, and go to Raphael’s cold corpse. Your eyes scan over him, his eyes are open, the once vibrant green now hollow and empty. You close his eyes. Before you stand back up, you see a familiar glint of steel. The necklace he told you was gifted by his mother.

You take it off his neck, the cross dangling at the end gleaming even in the dark, then place it in your pocket.

Eventually Gabriel and Luke finish up, and you and Sam pick up Raphael’s body and then settle him gently into the grave. 

You take one last look at his face, burning it into your mind. He is beautiful even when his face is bloody and bruised. You want to weep again, your tears would wash away the filth from his face, but they would not bring him back. 

Yandere Spirit who invades your dreams every single night. He holds you close and what was once a warm embrace, is now a cold and stiff cage. Even if it is a dream you can smell the iron from the blood on his skin, and the earthy odor of the soil he was buried in. 

Yandere Spirit whose search you volunteer for. Even if it is only to avoid suspicion. You’re paired with Gabe and his younger brother Amos Jr., and the silence is filled with Junior’s ceaseless chatter. You pity the young boy, who shouldn’t have to search for his brother who he doesn’t even know is dead. 

When you go near the spot you buried Raph, your gaze immediately meets Gabe’s and a silent agreement goes between you two. Do not let Junior find the grave. 

But despite your best efforts, the boy does, and you can only watch while Gabe threatens him to keep his mouth shut. You're sick, and you haven’t eaten anything all day. You tell Gabe and Junior to go ahead, and then puke your guts out near Raph’s grave. 

You hold on to a tree, and sob. The taste of vomit, still on your tongue. The wind blows through your hair, it feels like Raph’s gentle caress. You swear you even hear his voice, whispering to you that it's all going to be okay, that he’ll make things better, that Gabe would pay for what he’s done. 

Time passes by. You attend Raphael’s funeral. You study, and go to your classes. You run, run faster than you’ve ever ran. You run faster than even Raph, who you’ve replaced as the track team captain. You wear his necklace every day, and you’d never take it off if you could help it. 

Sometimes you swear you hear him, whispering into your ear. Every night you feel like he’s holding you as well, but his touch is cold, yet it still brings you comfort after every nightmare where his bloody corpse stares at you from the shallow grave Gabe made for him. 

You start to isolate yourself, especially when the comforting touches become rough and possessive when you spend too much time with anybody else. You make small talk with your classmate? Ghostly fingers dig their nails into your skin. You roughhouse with your friends? Cold arms wrap themselves around your waist so tight you feel like it’s getting crushed. You get hit on by a girl? Suddenly she’s got a cold look in her eyes and leaves mid sentence. 

When you graduate, you don’t attend any parties, and you’re not invited to many other than the ones hosted by your track teammates. Gabe invites you to one, surprisingly, but when Raph wraps himself possessively around you, you know you’re not leaving the house tonight.

You don’t sleep that night either, not when Raph’s hands grope your bare flesh, sensitive against his cool touch. You swear you can see him, blood still staining his skin, his eyes are vacant but at the same time hazy with lust. He whimpers, and whines, panting into your ear.

  “Feels good.”

  “Nngh, sooo warm.” 

 “Need you, need you, need you.”

 “Love you, love you ‘s much.”

 “Never letting you go, n- ha.. not even death can separate us.” 

You feel dirty, like you’re being used. But you let him continue, you deserve this. Don’t you? You didn’t help him. You were too weak to help him. If only you were stronger, maybe it wouldn’t be his ghost on top of you right now but it’d be him in the flesh. Body just as warm as yours, a beautiful red flush on his sun kissed skin. You’d trace over every freckle, every small childhood scar, and hold him close to you till the sun rose.

But instead, your only company is the freezing form of Raph’s specter as he desperately clings to the comfort of your warmth, to feel alive again. And he’s never leaving you. 

“...You’re mine, mine, [Name],” His frigid whispers send a shiver down your spine, “You are mine even in death.”

☏ - ᴠᴏɪᴄᴇᴍᴀɪʟ: ᴍʀ. ꜱᴀɢᴇ ᴡᴏᴜʟᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ʀᴇᴍɪɴᴅ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʟʟ ᴛʜᴀᴛ ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ᴏᴘᴇɴ, ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ'ᴅ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛᴏ ꜱᴇᴇ ᴍᴏʀᴇ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ.

[togrowoldinv]

Meet Me At Midnight

College!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You invite Wanda to spend the holidays with you. Will your true feelings for each other be revealed?

Note: I can’t believe it’s almost new years. Enjoy this Wanda fic!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

You’ve casually known Wanda Maximoff for a few months now. You met her in your literature lecture. The girl seemed mysterious, but not in an off-putting way.

Wanda was assigned to be your project partner for the semester. Like typical college students, you two exchanged numbers that first day but didn’t think about working on the project until late in the semester.

She sent you a text a few weeks ago and the two of you began working on the final project. Upon working with her, you realized just how amazing she is. Her and her brother moved to America for college, that explains her enchanting accent.

By the end of the semester, you completed the project and presented it to your class. Wanda suggested celebrating your successful work with dinner. You agreed, and the two of you went out for dinner and drinks that night.

Somehow, the holidays were brought up, and Wanda told you she was not able to go home to celebrate. You asked her to come with you to your family Christmas. She was so excited to see a true American Christmas, and to not be alone.

It went by quickly. Your family took Wanda in and made her feel at home. The girl loved it so much that she decided to stay for the New Year’s celebrations as well. You take her to the grocery store with you to get last minute needs for the holiday.

“Wanda, do you want red or white wine for tonight?” You ask her.

“Oh, I don’t know,” Wanda says. She leans over you and places her chin on your shoulder. You like how affectionate she is with you. “Whatever you like best.”

“Come on, Max, you gotta pick some food and drinks out too, or my mom will be mad at me,” you tell her.

“Fineee,” she says cutely. “White. And can we get some of those chips I liked the other day?”

“Doritos?” You clarify.

“Yes, them!” Wanda says.

“We can get every flavor.”

Wanda smiles and you put the white wine in the cart before moving to the chip aisle. You stay true to your word and get every flavor of Doritos, even the taco ones. Wanda also picks out some candy and other snacks.

You buy decorations for New Years so that you can go all out for Wanda. You don’t typically go this big, but you want her first real celebration to be a special one. Streamers, hats, glasses with the year on them, and all of your dishware needs are in your cart by the time you leave the store.

Wanda is buzzing with excitement when you arrive home and begin to decorate. Your family helps make the food while you decorate with the girl. You stand on a chair and hang streamers from the ceiling.

“Wouldn’t this have been easier if I got up there?” Wanda asks. “I am taller.”

“No, I got this,” you say, but just as you do you lose your balance on the chair from standing on your tippy toes.

You begin to fall backwards but Wanda’s hands on your hips stop you. She helps you stand upright again.

“Are you okay?” She asks.

“Yeah, thank you,” you reply. Her hands remain on your hips, and she pats them softly, a silent gesture for you to get down from the chair.

“Let me finish for you,” Wanda says. She steps up in the chair.

You can’t help but watch as her sweater rises up as she hangs the decorations. Her perfect frame is distracting. You almost don’t hear her when she asks for a hand to help her down. Her soft hand rests in yours even after she is back on the ground.

“This looks amazing,” Wanda says.

“It really does,” you agree.

The two of you get swept away by your mother to help prepare food for the party. Time flies by and soon the guests begin to arrive. It’s mostly family friends, but a few of your friends from college are here too.

Wanda enjoys meeting everyone and hearing stories about you. You try to keep her away from your gossiping mother’s friends but it’s no use. They reel her in and tell her all about your child and teenage years.

“She seems great,” a voice interrupts your gaze on Wanda.

“Natasha, so good to see you!” You tell the woman.

“You too, y/n,” Nat says. She hugs you. “Is she your girlfriend?”

“Oh no,” you reply. “Just a friend from college.”

“Sure,” Nat says. “That’s why she’s staring daggers through me.”

“What?” You turn to see Wanda is staring at you and Natasha. There’s a look on her face that isn’t quite readable, but you can tell she’s unhappy.

You decide to walk to Wanda and steal her away from the gossipers.

“Hey, there’s some more people I’d like for you to meet,” you tell her. She nods and follows you back to where Nat is standing. “This is Natasha.”

“Nice to meet you,” Natasha speaks to Wanda.

“You too,” Wanda replies a bit grumpily.

Another woman walks up behind Nat and wraps her arms around her. Wanda looks at you confusedly.

“And just in time Maria shows up,” you joke.

“I’ve been here,” she replies. “Just got a little distracted by the fondue.”

“Why does that not surprise me?” Nat asks.

“Maria, this is Wanda,” you say.

“Great to meet you, Wanda,” Maria says. “You’ve got a good one here.”

“Oh, it’s not-” you begin but Wanda interrupts you.

“Thank you,” she says, placing her hand in yours.

Nat and Maria get pulled away, leaving you and Wanda standing there together. She still has her hand in yours.

“Are you alright?” You ask Wanda.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” She drops your hand.

“Okay. Let’s just go get a drink,” you suggest.

For the rest of the night, Wanda seems to have shaken off her weird jealousy of you and Natasha. Or really you and anyone that’s not her. But when it’s five minutes until midnight you can’t find her anywhere.

“Wanda?” You call up the stairs, thinking maybe she went to your room. You get no response but go upstairs anyways.

She is sitting on your bed when you arrive. Four minutes until midnight.

“Hey, what are you doing up here? The ball is about to drop,” you say.

“I just needed a minute,” she says.

“Right, okay. I’m sorry. I know that my family and friends can be a lot.”

“It’s not that,” she says. “Well it is, but it’s not.”

You close the door behind you and sit next to Wanda on your bed.

“You’re missing home?” You ask.

“I always miss home,” Wanda replies. “But being with you here has felt kind of like home.”

“I’m so glad,” you say. You glance at your watch. Three minutes until midnight. “What’s bothering you then?”

“Do you like me?” Wanda blurts out unexpectedly.

“What? Of course I like you, Wanda,” you say.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Do you like me like me?”

“Oh.”

“Because well, I like you,” Wanda says. “And what’s bothering me is that everyone else seems to really like you too.”

“What like Nat?” You ask. She nods. “That never happened, Wanda. We’re friends.”

“But you’re attracted to her.”

“Well, you have eyes,” you try to joke, but Wanda doesn’t smile. “She is a friend.”

“And so am I,” Wanda says with a frown on her perfect lips.

“Yeah, but if you want to be more than friends then we could try?”

“Really?” Wanda asks.

“Really,” you say. “You’re so beautiful, Wanda. And so smart, cool, funny, and passionate.”

Wanda smiles the most perfect smile you’ve ever seen. You hold her cheek in your hand and brush her hair back with the other. She leans in closer.

“Wait,” you whisper. You hold up your watch. “Count with me. Ten, nine, eight…”

You count all the way down to one and Wanda kisses you as soon as she can. She practically straddles your lap as she deepens the kiss. It’s everything.

“Wanda,” you say softly, pulling away to breathe. “We need to go celebrate with everyone.”

“But I want to kiss you,” Wanda pouts.

You kiss her pouty lips and almost lose your will to stop.

“We can do this all we want later,” you tell her. “Right now it’s time to celebrate the new year with everyone. What do you say?”

“You promise we’ll do this again?” She asks.

“And again. And again. And again,” you reply, leaving a kiss to each of her cheeks and her forehead with your words.

Wanda smiles and lets you take her hand. You two walk downstairs together and spend the rest of the night celebrating New Years. It’s the best beginning to a year either of you have ever had.

You hope for many many more with Wanda by your side.