#it’s just that it’s the first time i’ll tell someone in person

[hearts4werka]

NNN day 15 | Unspoken Words

“A pathetic what? Loser? Nerd? All bullshit labels you and your friends love throwing around?”

summary: it’s pouring rain outside and you’re in a heated argument with the so-called ‘loser skater boy’ of the school, Chris about your popular friend group constantly picking on him but you don’t know what you could possibly do about it, in the heat of the moment you accidentally confess your love for him that you’ve been bottling inside of you for ages now, how will Chris react to the sudden confession?

warnings: ANGST, heavy language, pouring rain, arguing, angry love confession, kissing, mentions of bullying & possibly more!

authors note: bro this is coming out so late I’m so sorry I seriously am having trouble keeping up with posting fics everyday I might just change the schedule for every two days so I have time to write the fic so from now on I’ll post NNN fics every two days and I’ll try to make them better too, luv y’all sm and hope y’all enjoy this one

The rain was relentless, pouring down in heavy falls as I stood at the edge of the high school parking lot, glaring at him. Chris, the loser skater dude sat leaned against the slick metal of his beat-up board as water streamed down from his dark hair. It was a pathetic sight, really, the way he was looking at me through the downpour like he truly believed I’d stand there and listen to him whine while my friends were making his life miserable just a few feet away. “Chris, it’s not my fault they’re dicks! Just stand up for yourself!” I yelled, the wind whipping my words back into my face. I could see him flinch at the sharpness in my tone, but honestly? He was pissing me the fuck off right now.

“Easy for you to say,” he spat back, his voice rising above the rain. “You think I want to get into it with them? They’ve made my life hell since middle school. And here you are, acting like you’re above it all.” ���Whatever, Chris! You could actually do something about it, but instead, you stand there like a pathetic—” before I could finish my sentence, he cut right into the middle of it. “A pathetic what? Loser? Nerd? All bullshit labels you and your friends love throwing around?” My heart raced as the fight quickly escalated, frustration spilling out of me like the rain pouring down but hee wasn’t wrong, I could feel my friends laughing as they made comments, snickering at his expense as they walked past us.

I was too stubborn to admit that it bothered me, to admit that I felt trapped between two worlds — my friends who I felt loyal to, and Chris, whose passion for skating and the freedom he radiated off him drew me in. “Why don’t you just tell them to stop?” I snapped, fists clenched at my sides. “Oh, right!” he emphasized each word through gritted teeth, “Because you know they’d listen to me. ‘Oh, look at the loser! What a joke!’” He was pacing now, waves of frustration beaming from him as he glared at me. I could tell he was hurt and that made it worse for me. This wasn’t the first time we’d had this conversation, it seemed every time we met, our discussions turned into a bickering fight.

“Why can’t you just grow a backbone for once?” I found myself shouting, the words leaving a bitter taste in my mouth. Chris was the one person I didn’t want to keep fighting with. There was something inside me that pricked me at the thought of him being hurt—something that made me want to shield him from the world, even if I was part of the problem. “I get it, you’re popular, you have to keep up your perfect appearance.” His voice was cold and I hated that I could see right through it. “But that doesn’t mean you need to stand by while they bully someone who hasn’t done anything to you.”

The weight of his words hung between us, and for a moment, we both bathed in the silence, thunder rumbling in the background and threatening to strike. My breaths came ragged, and I could feel the frustration boiling over, a fierce mix of feelings I’d contained far too long. “Do you even care about them?” I shot back, suddenly feeling more bold, “I mean, seriously, do you care that I’m their friend? Or is it just about you being the victim here?” “Maybe if you gave them less attention, they’d stop. Ever think about that?” he shot back with a knife that cut deeper than any of my friends’ insults.

I took a step closer as rain soaked through my clothes, breath hitching as the heat between us crackled. “You think I’m just some heartless bitch, don’t you? You think I enjoy having these petty losers as friends? You know nothing about me,” I spat. He stepped forward, our faces inches apart as the storm raged around us. “So what’s stopping you from saying something? You’re the one with the power in this situation, right?” And just like that, the last strings broke inside me. I wanted to scream, I wanted to shake him and make him understand. “You don’t get it at all, Chris! Maybe I don’t always know what the fuck to do! Maybe—” My voice trembled and before I could think about the honesty I’m about to spill, I continued, “Maybe I just didn’t know how to tell you I liked you!”

His eyes widened, surprise sparkling in them and my heart tripped over itself at my confession. My cheeks burned and beneath the rain, I could feel the silence swallow us whole. The storm around us was like background noise as everything I pooled inside of me far too long, unraveling and honest. My breath caught as he closed the distance, moving so smoothly it caught me off guard. “What are you do—” Before I could finish, he tilted my chin up and pressed his lips to mine. The kiss was sudden as if he was attempting to drown out all the noise in my head, all the rambling I would never stop. It felt electric, warmth pulsing through my veins that made the rain fade into nothing.

When he finally pulled away, my pulse immediately started to race. I blinked up at him, confusion swirling inside of me. “Wait… Did you just really kiss me to shut me up?” He smirked, a shimmer of playfulness in his blue eyes. “Maybe,” he replied and I couldn’t help but laugh, the tension slowly dissolving into something lighter, something filled with hope. “So, popular girl, what now?” I hesitated but with a new fire building inside of me I grinned and said, “We show those little bastard who not to mess with.” And as the rain poured and drenching us both, I realized that maybe, just maybe, we’d figure it out together.

@hearts4werka |

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[felassan]

WBUR article: ''Dragon Age: The Veilguard' creators on their new vision for the fantasy series'

Rest of post under cut due to length and possible spoilers.

“Expectations are so high — whether from the fans of the franchise or the perspective of the company — there’s tremendous pressure.” says game director Corinne Busche. “One thing I’ll say about this team: They really rise to the occasion.” [...] “We sort of lost our way in a couple of previous titles, moving away from that character-focused storytelling that made ‘Mass Effect’ and ‘Dragon Age’ a success,” says John Epler, “Dragon Age” series creative director. “This project really coalesced when we consciously identified that central aspect of the experience: the characters.” “Veilguard” puts players in the shoes of an unlikely leader to a small band of rebels — think “Oceans 11” meets “The Fellowship of the Ring.” “It’s a deeply personal experience,” says Busche. “You’re creating your own character and that might be a representation of you, that might be reflective of the kinds of choices you'd like to make.” For the first time in BioWare history, that customizability allows player avatars to be transgender and access unique dialogue options around that identity. There’s also a prominent storyline about a party member coming out as nonbinary. “I'm an openly queer trans woman — I really believe that representation matters,” says Busche. “Everyone is welcome in ‘Dragon Age,’ and we want people to see themselves and feel like they can have a heroic place here.” [...]"

"4 questions for Corinne Busche and John Epler What makes “Dragon Age” stand apart from other fantasy games? Corinne Busche: “‘Dragon Age’ is a franchise that’s fundamentally always been about this really authentic team of companions that come together to take on insurmountable challenges. It's about people. It touches on some pretty deep themes as well. Injustices. The burdens of leadership. It really is about establishing this sense of found family to take on these challenges that lay ahead.” What feels different from previous iterations? John Epler: “I'd say this version of the game is much bigger in its storytelling, in its scope. We really wanted to put you in every one of the big story moments. So as an example, it's the difference between watching the Battle of Minis Tirith versus being someone who's fighting in the middle of it. You're much more participatory in it. We wanted you to feel like you were part of these big world-changing events. You were right in the thick of it and really focusing on making the story that is so big and epic feel personal just by how you interact with it.” What sort of hero is the player character, Rook?  Epler: “One thing we wanted to steer away from very consciously was the sense of them being a chosen one because that's something we've done previously. They are the right person in the right place at the right time. But there is always a core personality to them. They are always going to be someone who needs to pull together this small but somewhat dysfunctional group and really lead them in a way that makes sense for that team.” Busche: “And it's one of the interesting aspects of each new game having a different protagonist. We do have a true blank slate, some say in ‘Dragon Age: Origins.’ I would put the Inquisitor in that category. Whereas Hawke in ‘Dragon Age 2’ has a very bespoke identity. So we kind of strike a balance between that. One of the defining properties of Rook, who they are as a character, is this idea of someone who's very competent, but as a leader, they're learning how to shoulder this responsibility.” You’ve put a lot of blood and sweat into this game. It’s nearly out. Have people already been telling you stories about how they connect with it? Busche: “Absolutely. One of the reasons that I felt so honored, so privileged to be able to join this team and work on this franchise is so rarely have I seen a game or a piece of media, for that matter, that connects with people so deeply. There's a real sense of ownership and an affinity for the franchise. It's a rare thing.” Epler: “I'll share a very personal anecdote about this game and people connecting. So I wrote the follower Bellara. Early on while we were making this game, I got a diagnosis of ADHD. So I'm writing this character who has a lot of the same mannerisms, a lot of the same views of the world, in a very specific way. And hearing people online, connecting to this character in the way she speaks and the way she interacts, they were able to point to and say, ‘That's me, that's how I deal with the world.’ And it's just such a cool feeling to have someone connect with a character you create and be able to say, ‘I felt seen in a way that I've never felt seen in a game before.’”"

[source]

[stusbunker]

Spotless: Portato

Chapter Thirty Seven

Featuring: Dean Winchester/Reader

Other characters: Pamela, Charlie, Jesse, Benny, Kevin and Sam

Word Count: ~3250 with other media

Warnings, etc: Mutual pining, still unbeta'd, Tricia did read through the first scene, but all mistakes are still on me, Dean goes to confession, our reader's self esteem overrides all logic and prodding.

Series Masterlist

There have always been certain women in your life that you just didn’t click with. Some you wanted to, badly. Others you admired from afar, too shy or self conscious to really try to form any kind of bond, be it professional, educational or friendly. There were some you wanted nothing to do with. 

And then there was Pamela.

She was someone you had always admired, still slightly feared, but had resigned yourself to maintaining a simple and mildly judgemental, professional relationship. So when she woke you up, hungover and definitely disheveled as you were, on the bus to Phoenix, you were wary.

“Hey, sorry, but uh— could you come with me? Please?” She looked a little spooked and not exactly as apologetic as she sounded, but you nodded and tried to rub the sleep out of your eyes.

“What’s going on?” You said quietly, aware of all the other people around you as you shuffled after her to the actual bunk room in the back of the bus. Except no one back there was even asleep.

“Tell her what you told me. Or everything. Whatever comes last.” Pamela seemed pissed as she snapped at Dean and a sudden dread flooded your senses.

He sat on a bottom bunk, fingers rubbing over his lips in consideration as he glared at Pamela’s demands.

You knew something was up with the buddy system after the last show, but neither you nor Charlie had found anything substantial online. Which left in person or direct phone call threats. You’d been with the band long enough to have seen some shit, from overzealous fans to crazy ex’s and even a few stalkers. Benny’s team didn’t mess around when something had weight behind it. Outside of Vegas, you thought it was over.

By the look in Dean’s eyes, it was worse than you had guessed.

“Who died?” Was possibly the worst thing you could have said to Dean, by the journey his face went through.

He just gaped at you before Pamela dove back in.

“Wait— did someone actually die?”

“Will you let me speak for my damn self?! Christ, Pammy. Sorry, Trouble, this is not how I wanted you to find any of this out. Sit down.”

“Oh boy.”

There wasn’t any furniture back there and it felt oddly intimate to sit next to Dean on a borrowed bed like that. Every other bed was too far away. Instead, you slinked down to the floor and popped your knees up in front of you, like a child during circle time, but with something to hold onto.

“What’s going on? Is this about that guy outside of Wednesday’s show?”

“Kind of.”

Pamela exhaled and uncrossed her arms. “I’m gonna go– I don’t think I’m needed and it’s just gonna rile me up if I hear it all over again. But I’ll be up front if either of you need me, got it?”

“Good call— and, uh, thanks.” Dean looked up at her. Pamela nodded and left you and Dean alone.

The air grew thick and you had to get something off your chest before Dean got into whatever had Pamela so on edge. “Are you okay?”

Dean sighed and picked at the seam of his jeans. “I thought I was, you know? I’ve been putting in the work, but being back there, and then seeing Alastair— Having Cain at the fucking show. Really messed with my head.”

“Who are they?”

“Well, you’ve heard about Cain, Cain Charles. I used to box at his gyms all the time.”

You nodded into the pretzel of your arms.

“Well, I wasn’t really boxing— not most of the time. I was fighting in underground MMA type bouts. And Alastair, the slimy looking dude outside the first show? He was my trainer.”

Dean let that sit, but it didn’t take long for the pieces to start to fall together.

“The bruises— I remember how you were always hurt or stiff all the time.”

“Yeah, don’t miss that one bit either.” Dean rested his elbows on his knees and looked down at you, hunched as if he’s expected to get yelled at.

“So, what do they want? Why’s Benny got the guys on high alert?”

“Me.”

It was almost comical the way your mind looped around that simple word. Lots of people wanted Dean. And you couldn’t blame them, but those connotations didn’t quite fit the conversation so far.

“For what?”

“Back in the ring, at their beck and call, probably licking their boots while I’m at it.”

You straightened up, urgency starting to get the better of you. “Dean, I need more information here. Were you, like, an indentured servant? Do you owe them money? Why are they after you for real?”

“No, I, uh— I was there willingly. Started off with a fight at a club and when one of the goons came over to break it up, the guy didn’t kick me out. Instead he gave me a card, told me I had ‘promise’.”

“So you just decided one day to be a cage fighter? Being a rockstar wasn’t enough or something?” You balked, trying to figure out what drove Dean to that place. 

“Look, I’m not perfect, okay? And neither are you, so please, let me explain myself a little?”

You folded back in on yourself. “Yeah, of course, sorry.”

“No, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that— just give me the benefit of the doubt here, at least in the beginning.”

You twisted your fingers in front of your lips and tossed an imaginary key behind your back. Dean huffed out a laugh and cleared his throat.

“So, uh, do you remember before the fourth album we were kind of burnt out and Pamela and Lee were going through the last divorce and Bobby was kind of still AWOL because he’d just gotten married himself and Sam was fine by then and Adam was getting all those scholarships and shit?”

“You’re talking, like, almost back to the summer before the shit with Cas, right?”

  “There abouts, yeah.”

“Okay, vaguely. I remember being busy, Zacarriah had just been promoted and he was doing a lot of poking around. So I wasn’t doing much with you guys in person— since it was between tours.”

“Yeah, makes sense. Charlie and I played a lot of Call of Duty that break.”

“Okay?”

“I just— I was low. And then, finally, we got back into the studio and I could do something, be useful. I was able to sort of bury the darkness.”

“But it didn’t go away?”

Dean shook his head.

“Fast forward and I get this mafia-looking dude telling me I was worth more than just what my dad wanted me to be.”

“Dean—”

“It’s okay. I’ve been over that with Missouri too, just sayin’ why it was such a compliment.”

 Dean rubbed his palms against each other and kind of looked behind you as he kept talking. “So I checked it out, the fights were underground but not, like, dirty. I mean, they fought dirty as hell, but I didn’t feel like I was getting an STD just by walking in.”

“Okay, so you’re no Tyler Durden. What made you stay?”

Dean rolled his eyes.

“The rush of a fight. And you know— I’m hard up for praise— it’s why I love the spotlight and the fans. But it wasn’t like it is with the band. I didn’t even have to work as hard at it as I do with the music— it was only me up there. I didn’t have to answer to anybody else. It was just my hands and the other guys’ that I had to worry about. No harmonies, no compromises. It was easy. And I thought it made me free.”

Dean didn’t meet your eyes, he looked at the wall behind you or the floor. You had never seen him so ashamed, or so outright confessional.

 You inched forward, the need to comfort him tingled along your arms and into your useless hands. “What made you stop? Besides the last tour, obviously, you couldn’t be in two places at once.”

“Uh, so, Cas must have been following me because there was one night where it got really bad. I got really bad— just pummeled a guy to the mat. They— there’s not really refs, more like bouncers to hold back the crowds. But it took three of them to haul my ass to the showers. Cain has doctors on retainer, nobody was gonna call an ambulance and rat the place out. But, he wasn’t moving the last time I got a look at him.”

Dean looked up and into your eyes.

“I still don’t know if that guy is okay or anything. That was my last fight before we hit the road. And Cas called me out, eventually. Let me stew with the unknown and the guilt for a good month first. I didn’t know he needed me. He had his own shit with the kid and stuff then. I just thought— I don’t know. Anyway, you probably got a good handle on what happened after that.”

“So, they’re blackmailing you? Cain and Allistair?”

“Alastair.”

“Him.”

“No, but they’re watching you. They know— they know everyone I care about. Cain thinks I’m letting you guys save me from my true nature. He’s big on instinct and fight or flight crap. But he’s very logical about it all. Alastair—,” Dean blew out the breath he had been holding and dropped onto the floor in front of you, back against the drawers beneath the beds. “He’s a fucking sadist. He wants people to hurt, it’s not just about power—- it’s torture.”

You swallowed. “Don’t you think we need to go to the authorities? They sound dangerous. Really dangerous.”

Dean shook his head. “That’s not an option. Cain is too good, his business is airtight. Nobody talks or walks away. That’s why he’s so insistent. He thinks he can bring me back.”

You didn’t want to know, but you needed to know, so you asked, “do you— would you?”

“No. Not anymore. I’ve come too far. There’s days when I think about it. When it would be easier to just be the beast again. But I’ve got too much to lose. I have the band family, Charlie, Gibson, you—- So no, Trouble, I ain’t going back.”

You smiled at him, softly, not really letting him see how that sent your face burning with all the worry still hanging in the air.

“How can I help? Do I need to enlist Charlie and get our devices better hidden? Change reservations to keep people off our trail? The tour is set, we can’t cancel any dates—- but we can be more careful.”

“Uh, wow, I guess check in with Bobby and Benny? They’re already on top of things, but more eyes on it couldn’t hurt. I— is there anything you want to know? I feel like you’re taking this really well. Like instant problem solving mode. Not even flinching over what— the things I did.”

Dean leveled you with an unimpressed glare and cleared his throat. “Hit me. I can take it.”

It was your turn to roll your eyes as you resituated your legs and propped yourself up on your right hand. “It’s a lot, you know? We knew you were struggling. And we all had been on the receiving end of your temper enough to know not to poke the bear.---- But, I guess, it’s nice knowing, for sure. Like there was something there—- Someones there holding you back, keeping you from us. I’m sorry you had to go through that all alone.”

Dean bumped your knee with his. “Don’t need your pity. But, maybe, your forgiveness. Because I was fucking rotten to you—- more than once.”

“You sure were.” You looked him dead on.

“You’re a part of this band. Whether we say it or not. Even Kevin knows you’re in charge.”

“Pam’s in charge, she just lets everyone run things,” you quipped, an old Bobby line.

Dean chuckled. “Fine. But I am sorry for the things I called you. And how much I leaned on you after Sam and Bobby pulled my head out of my ass.”

“Don’t be.” Dean gave you a face. “Okay, the first part, yes. Be. But the after– that was— it meant a lot. It gave me something to look forward to. Made me feel like I was doing actual friend things instead of work things. Kind of miss the calls— the check-ins. It was a good part of my routine.”

“Yeah, me too.” He sounded so soft, like a favorite blanket waiting for you on the back of the couch. He was right there spilling his guts out and all you wanted to do was crawl into his lap and tell him it was going to be alright. 

You stayed put.

“Thank you— you’ve been— Christ, I couldn’t have done this without you, you know? You pulled me through— in so many ways.”

“Of course. You’d do the same for any one of us. Hell, you did it for Sam more times than I can count.”

“Yeah, but he’s my kid brother. It’s not the same.”

You hummed. “Yeah, but still. Anytime.”

“Hopefully not too soon.”

You huffed a laugh. “Agreed.”

You stretched and sat up on your knees, groaning at being on the floor for so long. “Okay— well, we’ve got like an hour before we get to the hotel. Do you need anything from me before we get to our rooms?”

Dean shook his head and stood up, quickly leaning down to help you the rest of the way. “I should be good, but yeah, check with Benny for the details. And, please, just watch out for Donna and the girls? They’ll be guarded, but I don’t want them thinking we’re neglecting them while we circle the wagons for our own.”

“On it.”

Dean put his hand on the ball of your shoulder and squeezed. You cupped his forearm and caught his weighted stare. It was like he was looking for something behind your eyes, or something there confused him, but either way he didn’t mention it. Instead, he just squeezed your arm again, gave you a guilty smile, and headed back to the front of the bus.

Charlie was invested in Operation Anti-Fight Club, her words not yours. Once you explained, very briefly, what had been going on, she immediately fell into a rabbit hole online. You even had to drag her out of her hotel room to get her to the venue in time for rehearsal the next morning in preparation for the Phoenix show. 

Somehow, she got sound and lights set up with a new venue in what felt like a flash, but was really two hours of back and forth with the band setting up cues and verifying the setlist. 

So when she started texting you during SPS’ set that night, about your conversation with Dean, you were a little worried she was distracted again.

You didn’t reply. From the moment you told her about Dean’s little heart-to-heart she had been asking leading questions and giving you knowing looks. Too worried she was either teasing you or getting your hopes up over nothing, you tried not to overthink it. Sure, Dean had broken things off with Bela with someone in mind. And it maybe, kinda, sorta seemed like he was waiting for you to do something before he left the bunkroom yesterday. But you could have been reading it all wrong. 

It was an emotional conversation.

It didn’t mean he wanted to kiss you.

Right?

Right.

Except now all you could think about was New Year’s. And how you wished you were sober enough to really remember what Dean’s lips felt like against yours.

You had never let yourself want him, not truly. You couldn’t help loving him, you were only human. But admitting to yourself that you wanted him and wanted him to want you back was a death sentence. There was no hope after that. There was not a chance Dean Winchester could be with you, or even someone like you. 

So why were you letting yourself think about it now?

You weren’t, you decided, and made small talk with Jesse instead. 

“You excited to get some days off at home next week?”

“You know it. I miss ridin’, miss sleepin’ somewhere far enough out, the city lights don’t keep me up.”

You smiled and nodded, you grew up somewhere close enough to the country to know what he meant. “Well, one of these days you’ll have to let us swing by. I’d love to see your land.”

The hulking man looked so fond as he reasoned out an uncertain invitation, “well, Matty keeps the place running while we’re on the road, so I’ll have to ask him how’s it all looking for the whole band to swing by for an afternoon. If not this trip, definitely after the tour.”

“Fine! But I won’t forget you said that.”

He chuckled. “Of course you wouldn’t.”

You turned back to the stage as Jodi wailed on their cover of ‘Crazy on You’. Donna was front and center giving it her all. You were once again mesmerized by their talent. Some people were just unreal, having both beauty and brains, strength and kindness. That old, familiar hollowness inched up your throat and twinged the corners of your eyes. You were surrounded by amazing people and all you could do was hover in their shadows. You were a supporting character, you could never exist at that level.

You were a fool to think you ever could.

SPS was phenomenal and they finished their set to whistles and cheers from both the fans and those of you in the wings. They beamed as they marched off stage, heading back to the dressing rooms for a breather before the main event. You cheered them on, knowing you were doing a bad job of masking the way your thoughts had plummeted. Luckily for you, Jesse was a professional and he said nothing as he ducked away to help with PT’s set up.

You rolled your eyes and punched out an annoyed ‘fine’ in the chat. You didn’t want to think about Dean singing about somebody at that moment. What you wanted was a stiff drink and maybe a foot massage. You thought about pulling up your hotel’s amenities, but were caught off guard by Sam and Kevin bellowing your name like a pair of foghorns.

“TROUBBBBBLLLLLLEEEEEE.”

“TRRRRRRRRRRROUBLLE!”

You turned while still looking down at your phone. “Uh, what’s up?” 

But as you glanced up, you got silly string-ed straight to the face. 

“MOTHER FUCKERS!” That had you spitting out air because the foamy substance had grazed your lips. Yuck! With one eye open you charged the overgrown idiots, forcing them to run behind the closest obstacles, gear cases and Benny, respectively.

Benny muttered over his shoulder to a crouching Kevin, “it’s your funeral, cher.”

“Thanks, Benny,” you huffed out as you dodged around the head of security and almost had a hand on Kevin’s collar. “You little shit!”

Kevin cackled as he ran away, too worried about busting your shit in your concert heels, you watched him go. Sam was smart enough to leave quietly amongst the fray, but you promised yourself some revenge down the line. You even knew who you could enlist for help, the last person they would ever expect…

Tagging:

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[afyrian]

phase 7 - nervous aura m.list

    the early autumn morning air leaves a chill down your arms. the thick sweatshirt material not saving you from the low morning temperatures. your legs cross on a bench, hands flipping through your notes. pressing the on button on your phone, you check the time again, ten minutes until your class begins. the lines on the page start to spin as you linger far too long.

  flipping to your next page of your notes, you hear someone shouting your name. very rarely does anyone call you by your first name; however, there's only one person with that vocal inflection that would call you by your first name. your gaze continue staring down at your notebook, the only thing you can pray for is that he'll take the hint and leave.

  "y/n! you're here," oikawa sits beside you, shoes pressing against the bench, sitting on the back of it.

  you look up at him and his insulated jean jacket, raising your eyebrows. there's the usual smirk on his face, a smile that sticks in your head like a painted on facade. "yeah, this is the english building. my degree is in the same ballpark," you look back at your notes, trying to ignore the passing time and the way his eyes land on you. 

  "of course.. so, i wanted to ask how it's going with.. him. he doesn't give me much information that way, but i wanted to make sure you're still making that article. that you’re still interested," he swallows at the end, hand reaching up and scratching the back of his neck.

  holding back your eyes from rolling, you continue looking down at your notes. the little sketches in the corners giving you a small semblance of peace. your foot taps quietly against the concrete sidewalk, "i don't know, oikawa. the head of the paper isn't letting me write about the interview without more proof. so, why don't you talk to him and get him to figure it out?"

  there's a sharp tone in the way you speak to him. a sarcastic undertone resting within. and you don't give him a moment to respond before your hands close the notebook. "oikawa, can you just leave me alone? i- i don't want to deal with this right now, i have a test in five minutes," you shrug your shoulders, standing up from the bench.

  "wait! i'll find a way to get him to legitimize himself for you. do you want that interview or not? i can only help so much, but he’s not gonna answer anything if he doesn’t want to,” oikawa stands with you, eyebrows furrowing, the phrase suddenly sounding familiar to you.

  narrowing your eyes at him, you run your tongue along your teeth. the memory of eclipse standing beside you starts ringing through your head, the threatening aura that seeped into the air around him. your breath catches, heart beating quicker as you try to keep your eyes on his. “i don’t know anymore, if you can somehow convince him, tell him to contact me and i’ll see.”

  “you won’t regret this, y/n,” oikawa, stuffs his hands into his pockets, taking a few steps towards you, “maybe we could even meet up sometime, talk about it. y’know, being the only ones who actually talk to him.”

  “i’m okay, i think we’d better keep our distance, make sure his relationships aren’t compromised,” you shake your head, turning on your phone once more to see you only have a few minutes until class starts, and it already takes a couple of minutes to walk through.

  oikawa nods ardently, pursing his lips, bringing his hands out and sending you finger guns. stepping backwards, he brings on an awkward sense of body language, almost sinking in on himself. “right, yeah, that makes a lot of sense,” he finally turns around, almost running into a light pole.

  taking in a deep breath, your hands feel more clammy with every step you take towards your class. looking back in his direction, you can feel the similarities between him and eclipse. the way they speak, the way you start to feel nervous the longer you’re with them. and yet the confidence differs greatly between them. biting your lip, you open the door to the english building, feeling like a set of protective eyes are on you. 

a/n: a little shorter than normal but i hope you like it taglist (open): @eggyrocks @causenessus @applepi25 @unhelpfulnpc @phoenix-eclipses

@iiwaijime @cupidsblonde @yogurtkags @s1ckntw1st3d @mfcherry

@just-coreee @cherrypieyourface @csbnova @keeboismine @nekozaki

@k0z3me @gigiiiiislife @pookalicious-hq @ghostreader0307

[heymacareyna]

From my caitvi fantasy royalty au on ao3:

The royal family of Zaun were shown to their suites, and Caitlyn was left alone, left wondering how she was going to survive this week if that was what the Zaunite crown princess looked like. Gods, her combined beauty, confidence, and strength sent butterflies aflutter in Caitlyn’s belly.

No. Focus. She’s a guest, and you have to be regal about it.

Caitlyn simply needed to survive the next seven days, and then Princess Violet would depart, and everything would return to normal. In the meantime, Caitlyn would avoid her; that would be enough to keep her safe from her own—

“Going somewhere, princess?”

Caitlyn felt the husky voice deep in her core. By the gods, someone so noticeable should not be able to appear out of nowhere. It felt wrong. She straightened her spine, smoothed the front of her gown, and turned toward the other princess. “I have nowhere else to be,” Caitlyn said, which was technically true. Her parents had forbidden her from leaving the palace grounds while their guests from Zaun were here.

Princess Violet scanned her from toe to head, that storm-gray gaze too perceptive. “Doesn’t mean you weren’t looking for an escape route.”

“I have nothing to escape.” A lie. “I’m grateful for the peace.” That bit was true, actually, and she expected it to make for an easy agreement for them to bond over.

“Hmm,” said Violet, which was not an agreement. How odd.

So Caitlyn pushed, because of who she was as a person. “You’re not?”

Violet shrugged, a casual gesture. “People lie to get what they want. I don’t expect the ceasefire to last long. But sure, it’s nice.”

Hot offense rose in Caitlyn’s chest. You can’t say that. Not here. Not when we worked so hard for the violence to end. “It’s done. The war is over.”

“Until your parents decide Zaun has something else they want.”

The old books. Piltover overreaching. Her entire kingdom’s air of superiority. Violet was right, and Caitlyn hated it. “It’s over , and I won’t let it happen again,” she said fiercely. “No matter what it takes.”

At that, Violet looked Caitlyn over again, as if for the first time. “You really mean that, don’t you,” she said, brows lifting in surprise.

“I don’t say things I don’t mean.”

Violet actually scrunched her nose in sympathy. “Court life must be tough for you, then.”

Caitlyn faltered. It was, actually. In a way she rarely acknowledged outside of her own head. “Is it difficult for you as well?”

Violet met her gaze, and there was turmoil in those twinned storms. The silence stretched between them for a long moment, but finally Violet admitted, “I prefer being elsewhere.”

Interest sparked like a flint. Caitlyn wanted to know more about the other princess. “What do you like to do, then?”

“I like the library.” Violet leaned against the stone wall. “Sometimes I’ll train with the knights. I have a cellar, too, where I can practice my magic alone.”

Magic!

Caitlyn glowed at the introduction of her special interest. “Do you craft the spells yourself?”

“That’s the way we do it,” Violet said. “You don’t, though, right? You only use preapproved spell scrolls?”

Caitlyn hesitated. If word got out about Caitlyn’s homebrew spellwork, all her plans could collapse. “Traditionally, yes. What types of spells do you like to make?”

Violet fisted a hand, jabbed at the air. “Offensive mostly. It’s what I’m best at.”

Caitlyn bounced on the balls of her feet. She desperately wanted to ask if Violet knew any spellmasters. Surely she had those kinds of connections. But the request would reveal too much, too soon. So instead she said, “Where do you store your spell scrolls? How many are there?”

“I have probably thirty that are worth mentioning. I just keep them in my chambers.”

Thirty handcrafted spells already? “How impressive!”

Violet waved this away. “A lot of people are much more accomplished. It’s just a hobby.”

It’s not just a hobby. Tell me more. Tell me everything.

But Caitlyn couldn’t say anything. It wasn’t safe to share.

Violet counted on her fingers, muttering to herself. “We’re here for a week, and then your court is coming to Zaun for a week, right?” 

“As I understand it.”

“Maybe when you visit, I can show you my practice space.”

The offer hung in the air. Caitlyn ached to grab for it, to hold on, to dig her nails in to prevent Violet from taking it back. She was feral with the need to watch Violet work. “That would be delightful,” she said, trying to sound normal about it.

Violet smiled for the first time since she’d arrived, and the light of it heated Caitlyn from the inside. It was more dangerous than any spell, that smile.

Heart in her throat, Caitlyn looked away. “I should be going,” she said, and it was an obvious retreat. “I have, erm, duties. In the meantime, is there anything I can do to make your stay here more comfortable, Princess Violet?”

Violet huffed out a low laugh. “Sure.”

“Lovely. What is it?”

The Zaunite heir winked at her. “You can call me Vi.”

Xena’s Share Day

todays a free day! have something you wanna share? here’s your chance, doesn’t matter what it is!! lemme see it!

[louiswilliamtomlinsons]

.

[hautecouturegirlfriend]

Now who is responsible for this 😭 please

[fingertipsmp3]

No one:

Person writing an introduction for a well-known novel: I am going to spoil the vital plot points and twists of this book for anyone who has not read it

[pallases]

ourgejjg

[steviescrystals]

i’m fr gonna lose my mind :)

[the-travelling-witch]

i can tell you guys aren’t as fond of the entertainment industry which is a shame bc idol! childe, model! kaeya and club owner! diluc are very tasty :(

[kavehater]

Gosh maybe it’s for the best that I don’t watch shows bc seeing people even if they’re fictional having such profound friendships gives me serious fomo 🙁

[redflannelsheets]

.

[sharkieboi]

mmmmm good times with my partner i love them

missed my initial train and had to pay out the ass for a new ticket but it’s fine

and just arriving at their place like immediately the best hugs ever which i have been NEEDING this entire time. then amazing sex and more cuddles and then good diner brunch and then more cuddles. and now they’ve left for work so i’m just chilling at their place, watching D20 and napping, and they booked me a reservation at their restaurant tonight so I’m gonna get to see where they work and get wined and dined, I’m so excited!!

so much has been so shitty recently, it’s nice to have things just be wonderful and okay for a change.

[insanechayne]

~ ~ ~

[noisilyscreechingsong]

Disney princess Danny

It’s known that animals can sense death. Instances where pets gravitate to someone on their death bed and dogs barking at ghosts. Danny already knew this from before he half died, so he was expecting animals to rat him out with their sixth sense or become aggressive or cower from him. Instead, they all behaved the complete opposite than he anticipated.

Stray cats come running to rub against his legs, dogs nearly pull arms out of their owners sockets to get close to him, birds bring him trinkets, raccoons lead him to trash cans full of food, and even squirrels and rats get close to just sit on his shoulders. It’s… weird, but not unwelcome. He always loved animals.

Danny had come to semi-trust the animals that come to him. They know where the good food is and drinking water, they know when to steer away from a certain area right before something happens, and they always know when a person is bad or okay. So when an animal leads him somewhere, he follows. Sometimes they need help and he’s the one they go to. He’s helped plenty of raccoons out of garbage bins and cats out of gutters to have a good relationship with the animals of the streets.

What he isn’t expecting is to be led to Robin again and again.

The first time it was a cat. A mangy old Tom cat that rubbed against his torn up jeans and looked back with - Danny swears- a raised eyebrow. Danny follows and soon enough he finds himself standing a few paces away from Robin who is kneeling down to give clean water to the momma cat and her three kittens.

Robin freezes and so does Danny. They stare at each other.

“Um, hi?”

Robin straightens immediately, leaving the water on the ground where the cats can drink. Tom cat swaggers over to guard them.

“Civilian. Is there something I can assist you with?”

The dude is probably a year or two younger than Danny himself and he has to suppress a smile at the formal tone.

“Oh, uh, no? The cat just led me here.”

He can see Robin glance at the Tom cat who was now licking himself.

“Is that so?”

“Yea. Sorry to interrupt. Animals just like me for some reason.”

The three kittens one by one all totter over to him on unsteady legs after they had their fill. The orange one starts trying to climb his pant leg with its short and sharp claws digging into the jean material.

“They really like me.”

He carefully sits down crossed legged so the others could also climb all over him. Robin watches for a moment silently and when he sees Danny react well to the little pricks from tiny claws, he seems it safe enough to return to patrol.

The second time it’s a couple of rats that lure him away to find Robin fighting off more thugs than he probably should by himself. So taking the rats’ movements as encouragement, he takes the closest thing, a piece of plywood, and hit the nearest guy over the head with it. The guy crumbles like a wet sock and Danny is moving on to the next thug.

They sweep the floor with these guys with only a few splinters and a twisted ankle.

“It was dangerous to intervene,” Robin tells him. “I had it handled.”

“Yea, I know.”

The vigilante didn’t seem to be expecting that response from his stunned silence. He straightens as much as he can with bruised ribs.

“Well, I’m glad you know your mistake. Don’t let it happen again.”

Danny neither agrees nor disagrees, just shrugs and allow the rats to climb up his leg to his shoulder. Robin looks at them curiously. Danny gives a salute before leaving. Robin gives him a nod.

The third time it happened the roles are reversed.

Some people from the local gang are bullying the lonely, homeless teen to run drugs for them. They don’t seem to understand the word ‘no’. It gets to the point where Danny finds himself with his back against the wall and all his exits blocked with a guy shoving him again and again.

“Stop it!”

“I’ll stop if you agree.”

“I’m not doing it!”

Frank the raccoon and his buddy Bobby launch themselves at the guy’s ankles. The guy shrieks and pulls a gun.

“No!”

Before Danny can dive for it, a projectile comes out of nowhere to knock it out of his hands. He can’t even process what happened before the three are running away, two raccoons chattering at their heels before coming back to crowd him in worry.

Danny looks up to see Robin with a sword out threateningly, staring at where the three fled. He sheaths the sword after a few seconds.

“Are you okay?”

Danny realizes he’s breathing a little heavy and slows down a bit as he leans over to pet the top of the two heads.

“I’m- yea, I’m okay. Thanks for the save. Those guys were jerks.”

“I’m inclined to agree.”

Robin is staring at the raccoons and it takes Danny a long moment to piece things together.

“Did- did they lead you to me?”

Robin doesn’t answer right away.

“You have loyal friends.”

Danny smiles at the weird compliment. Looking down at the two heroes of the evening Danny is also inclined to agree.

The fourth time is funny in a way Danny doesn’t know how to describe.

It was the pigeons. They were at fault of course for how Robin’s secret identity was outed. By pigeons.

The grey birds swarmed Danny and settled in a cloud of feathers. One holding something in its beak before plopping it down in his lap like a golden retriever. It flaps off as Danny picks up the obvious wallet clip holding quite a bit of cash and a student ID. The card says Damian Wayne from Gotham Academy. Just then Robin comes skidding around the corner, clearly out of breath and freezes.

Danny looks down at the clip in his hand and back up at the vigilante. He looks at the crazy amount of birds around him and again at the vigilante.

Said vigilante straightens and approaches like he called Danny there.

“If I could have that so I could return it to its proper owner.”

He holds out a hand with false arrogance, but Danny can see the nervousness in his stance. Danny looks down one last time before putting the clip in the outstretched hand without a word.

Robin nods once, pockets the ID and money, and immediately leaves.

The fifth time just cements what Danny had already figured out.

He was at the park. Not Ivy’s park of course, the one where people actually like to go. He was helping the squirrels find and hide acorns when he’s nearly knocked over by a massive black dog.

“Titus!”

The end of the Great Dane’s leash is a familiar face. Damian Wayne’s eyes widen in recognition as he finally sees who Titus was so excited to get to.

“Uh-“

Danny has to close his mouth quickly or else the massive tongue on his face would have turned into a French kiss.

“Titus! Heel!”

Danny laughs at the embarrassed blush on the other’s face, obviously not used to his companion going off the rails like this.

“It’s alright. We both know how animals like me.”

Damian narrows his eyes to analyze the teen. Danny wasn’t about to pretend and Damian looked like he was debating whether to follow his lead or not. There was literally no one within hearing distance.

“Have you told anyone?”

Danny thought about redirecting, but thought better of it. He actually liked Robin and what he did.

“Nope. I haven’t and I won’t. I swear.”

Damian tilts his head and then looks down at Titus. He seems to come to a decision before looking back at Danny.

“You’re homeless, are you not?”

Didn’t think they were being that direct but sure.

“Yea?”

“I will pay you in food and shelter to take care of my animals.”

Danny blinks. Then actually considers the offer.

“What kind of animals? How many we talking?”

Damian grins.

The family finds out pretty quickly when a teen they’ve never seen before walks into the Batcave with two pails of food for the bats, Titus at his heels and Alfred the cat perched contently on his shoulders.

Duke stares and Bruce short circuits.

“Um, who are you?”

“Hi! I’m Danny. Damian employed me to take care of the animals.”

“O…kay?”

“And where is Damian?” Bruce sounds like it physically hurts to ask and Danny does not envy Damian’s position right now.

“Upstairs. I think he said he was going to his art studio.”

Bruce marches past the boy to the stairs before stopping abruptly and turning to Danny and Duke.

“Don’t touch anything. Watch him.”

Duke and Danny blink at each other for a moment as Bruce disappears up the stairs.

“I’m Duke by the way.”

Danny grins.