#its gotten so bad id rather be anywhere else than there

[sleep-nurse]

Lowkey scared to go home

I wanna stay at school forever

[bulldagger-bait]

When it comes to hygiene tasks and self care with disability and chronic illness, its pretty much a constant case of: don't let perfect be the enemy of the good.

Basically: it's better to do something, than to do nothing at all.

TLDR: Just because you can't do something "properly" doesn't mean you shouldn't do it at all. Do it half-way. Do it shitty. Do it barely. Do it on a technicality. But do what you can. Just try, because doing something will help you.

If you don't have the energy to scrub your body with a sponge, just rub soap over your skin with your hands.

If you don't have the energy to wash your whole body with soap, just hit the places where sweat accumulates, or where you're smelliest.

If you don't have the energy to wash with soap AT ALL, just sitting in water is better than nothing. It will wash away dirt and oils.

If you can't bathe or shower at all, a warm wash cloth is your new best friend. If that's too much, then try bath wipes. They're a bit bigger than regular wet wipes, and a bit more heavy duty. They're designed to help keep bed ridden patients clean in hospitals.

If you don't have the energy to dry yourself after a bath or a shower, just put on a bathrobe and get into bed. If you don't have the energy to get dressed afterwards, just don't. It can wait until you can.

If you don't have energy to brush your teeth for two minutes, honestly, just a cursory scrub is better than not doing anything.

If you can't brush your teeth twice a day, brush in the evenings. It will help take away the build up of food from the day.

If you don't have the energy to brush AT ALL, honestly, just take a cloth and wipe the plaque off your teeth. Rinse with mouth wash after if you'd like. Something is always better than nothing.

If you can't floss twice a day. Try once. If that's too much, try a few times a week. If that's too much, try setting aside a day once a week as a goal. If you can't keep a schedule, do it when you're able to. Hell, I keep some floss next to my bed so that if I forget and don't have the energy to go get it, I can just reach over.

If you can't iron your clothes, don't bother. Wrinkles are fine. Wear jumpers over wrinkly t-shirts. No one will know, and honestly, most people won't even care. If it's really wrinkly and it's A Big Deal And It Needs To Be Ironed, here's my life hack. Step 1: take a spray bottle, and spritz the item of clothing (while you're wearing it is easiest) until it's lightly damp. Step 2: use a hair-dryer on the clothes until they're dry. It gets rid of creases like nobody's business, it's easier than lugging out the iron and ironing board, and you get to have nice toasty warm clothes afterwards.

If you can't fold your clothes, try just hanging them up. It's less commitment. It's quicker to do. Granted, you need to have the space in order to do this, but it is also good at helping you downsize, and lets you visualise exactly what you have.

If you can't put your clothes away, invest in a couple of laundry baskets, and then just keep your clean clothes in the baskets. You can then separate washed clothes into underwear, pants, and shirts baskets. You can just leave them like that. I'm giving you permission to never fold your laundry again if you can't. Just leave it unfolded. Who's going to care? Something is better than nothing. If you can, try to put those baskets into your closet so that you can keep the clutter out of sight, and give yourself a more restful environment.

If you can't separate your clothing out into different categories and wash them "properly" (whites, warm tones, cool tones, darks, delicates / switching between hot & cold washes / paying attention to laundry instructions on the label) then just don't worry about it. If you cold wash your clothes, colours won't bleed. Maybe gradually over the course of dozens of washes there'll be some changes in hue, but it's really not as high stakes as the One Red Sock In The Whites Turns Them Pink trope makes it out to be.

I've pretty much come to the point in my life where if a piece of clothing can't survive the washer and dryer, then it's just not meant to be. I colour separate my clothes, and if I have the energy/remember I'll take my bras and jumpers out of the washing machine to drip dry. But otherwise, I leave it to the universe.

If you can't separate out your recycling, then don't. If you have a large amount of rubbish you need to get rid of but the idea of separating it out properly is stopping you from doing so, then just don't worry about it. I know it's not ideal, but if you have garbage in your room/house and you need to get rid of it, please just get rid of it. Don't let the problem get bigger and harder to deal with. Don't let "doing something properly" get in the way of keeping your living spaces clean. Please. Give yourself understanding.

If you can't wash your dishes, get paper plates. Obviously, it's not ideal, but it is better that you eat food than skipping meals. It is better that you have a clean kitchen, rather than having dishes piling up and making it harder to look after yourself.

If you can't prepare meals for yourself keep making the tasks easier and easier. If you can't do recipes, then simplify. Use pasta sauce from the jar instead of making it. Eat canned soup. Buy food you can just stick in the oven. If you eat fish fingers and microwave veggies every night, it's better than not eating anything at all. It's better than having to fork out money on take-out. If you need ready-made meals, then get them. If you're literally just eating a raw cauliflower for dinner; 1) I see you, 2) me too, sis, 3) something is better than nothing.

These are the basic things you need to do every day to function as a person. They are your activities of daily living. Brushing your teeth. Bathing or showering. Using the bathroom. Getting dressed. Eating. Drinking. Sleeping. Keeping your environment clean. You don't need to do these things perfectly, but they need to happen in order for you to have a decent quality of life.

And it breaks my heart, because I know that so many disabled people can't do these things every day. I'm not saying this to guilt or judge, I'm saying that these are basic needs; you deserve these things. These things bring dignity. If a disabled person is unable to do these things, it diminishes their quality of life. It robs them of dignity.

If you need help to do these things, Its okay to ask for help. It's okay to need help. But if you can't get that help and you have to do these things by yourself -- or you just plain want to be independent and do it without help-- then don't hold yourself to standards you can't meet.

Don't let perfect be the enemy of the good. Doing something is always better than doing nothing. Even if it's not perfect. Even if it's not done well. Do what you can.

[faerociousbeast]

hinata has a lot of inner strength though and supported naruto from the beginning more than sasuke

where did you even come from.... anyways i did say id offer asks like this a little of my time from now on since you seem to have difficulties with your brains when viewing the series yourselves so.

inner strength? i imagine youre referring to her attempting to train herself and then literally not getting anywhere. i do not doubt canon! she did Attempt to do that. however, that isnt really a basis for claiming her external status either.

and no see this is my biggest problem with you people. stop claiming things and giving her credit for things shes never done! admiring is not the same as supporting. she did not hate him ever! this is true!

however, when did this ever HELP naruto? this is where you all seem to get rather confused. heres the thing- she didnt. she never approached him, she never offered him a connection, and youre welcome to equate this to her "shyness" and timidness but then youll have to admit she did Not Do Those Things. and that her so called "kindness" didnt help him when he actually needed it.

he didnt even know she existed. this is not his fault. hinata never made an attempt to let him know she existed. it is NOT his fault for not "loving her back" or "being dense" or whatever the fuck the last claimed, just bc she didnt actively hurt him. inaction ≠ kindness holy crap how many times must i repeat this

she literally just stalked him everywhere and that was kinda it how was he supposed to fucking know???? she only publicly supported him AFTER EVERYONE ELSE DID AS WELL. that does not help, and you need to stop claiming it did.

she never really seemed to see him as just another kid, who was suffering, and that her "support" could possibly help him at least somewhat. she was perfectly content following him everywhere hiding behind things and using his pain to make herself feel better. about her "inner strength" or whatever you said.

but this, is NARUTO helping HINATA from a young age, and he barely even knows of her existence. hinata never did jack shit for him for. pretty much the first 16 years of his life at least, aka the most tough times for him. but HE, was her main inspiration to "get better" WHICH AGAIN ISNT BAD! but stop claiming she did anything in return! she fucking didnt! where is this kindness you speak of?

also you really shouldnt have brought up sasuke. cmon man. this has gotten rather long oops.... but still. just go read the manga again? watch the show maybe? this is also canon ten times over thyeve said it to each other sooo much. they were rivals because they didnt know how to approach each other with friendship. they were EACH OTHERS goals this was not onsided.

if she was so shy, there were MANY options other than fucking stalking someone in a more unfortunate situation than your privellged self everywhere! this is NOT KINDNESS.

he does not owe her JACK SHIT! just bc she "supported him the longest" whats with this weird trend of loving people is suffering and you must force yourself through it or something? what

and if you wanna claim pain arc is super romantic, w hinata throwing herself in front of naruto to say something, sasuke did that too all the way back in land of the waves 💀💀💀💀💀

except he literally did not have time to think (my body moved on its own), he did not have an entire group of people telling him to not interfere as itd only make things worse, he did not think it over and then do it out of SELF PROCLAIMED SELFISHNESS, his actions here were actually REMEMBERED???????? FOR ONE THING??

"more than sasuke" my ass 😭 naruto was so happy nd shit when sasuke was acknowledging him. he finally had someone who understood his pain and didnt judge him. he had someone to train with and inspire him to get better too. but even in again, the WHOLEASS MOVIE they made for a WHOLEASS MARRIAGE, he still looks so sad with her 😭😭

narutos a nice dude and im sure he'd agree with you on the first part! but just. anyways. i dont know what you thought the point of telling me was? i doubt this will affect your opinion, and youll never change mine, soo. see. internet arguments are useless. you legit cpuldve just scrolled down on my blog anyways if you needed an answer from me that bad

[ectonurites]

I know Jason "came back to life" in the eyes of the public etc but like legit interested in your opinion on this because I'm just confused and interested in how he went about that, y'know? Like wouldn't it take him years? And who does he get to confirm its him and not some rando? IIRC Bruce didn't know he did that until the iceberg lounge thing which is weird if his son came back to life you would think he would testify or something sooner? I just don't know how it would work lol 😳🤔

SO you sent me down a reading rabbit hole. 

The thing about Jason’s situation compared to most situations irl is the fact that since he genuinely did die, there was a body and everything. That definitely makes it tricky. However, even though in our minds he was dead a super long time since he was killed in the 80s, he was only really gone for what’s probably 5 or so years by the time in RHATO he’s trying to ��come back’. It being not even a decade is in his favor (I haven’t found a ruling for New Jersey specifically yet but in Ohio for instance a death ruling can’t be overturned if it’s been more than 3 years, so less time dead is better. But Ohio’s the only state i’ve seen the 3 year thing for so working with 5 should be okay here) 

Most cases about people needing to re-declare themselves alive that have happened irl I’ve found are either missing persons who were presumed dead after many years being away (the base line is 7, some states have it as less though), OR the more common situation of literally just clerical error on this thing called the ‘Death Master File’ (apparently like, nearly 40 people get declared dead by accident every day in the US! which is WHACK!) 

The grounds Jason would likely try to use is that it was a mistaken body (so somebody else) and he had actually just been missing all this time, which would kinda be a mix between a ‘fraudulent death’ claim and then the missing person type thing. Fraudulent death seems to be one of the harder ones to prove (because most of the time this category is more for people who purposely faked their deaths). In general, the fact that this happened with him as a child rather than as an adult, means there’s less cases I’ve been able to find that are even remotely similar but it also might help him out since there’s less precedent and also it’s more clear it probably wasn’t a like ‘get insurance money/run away from money owed’ scam. 

However, identity theft with dead people is like, a pretty common thing, so yeah proving oneself alive is not the easiest process in the world.

But most of the like, ‘things that make being declared legally dead even if you aren’t a really really bad and a lengthy process to fix’ are like, money related (social security, life insurance, bank accounts, property stuff, etc) and for someone like Jason who was 15 at time of death (so not married or owning property) and money apparently does not seem to be a problem for due to his various criminal activities, these wouldn’t be anywhere near as big of a deal. Like, sure a little inconvenient perhaps but definitely not entirely devastating like it can be for the real normal people that this kind of thing happens to. Also, when he bought the Iceberg Lounge, he bought it out from under the fuckin’ Penguin, so like, there’s already some shady shit going on there, so even if he was still in the process of ‘coming back to life’ he’d probably have been able to get that all started.

Also the ‘confirming it’s him’ thing as far as I’ve gathered from what I’ve read doesn’t... anywhere say it actually requires he bring someone from his life (Bruce) to verify it’s him? It’s way more about the combination of your presence & the documentation. So as long as he has photo ID and like as many of his official documents as possible (which. sneaking into the manor to steal his real passport from childhood and other documents like that i think is absolutely something he could/would do especially since like, earlier in RHATO 2016 it’s shown Bizarro’s door thing can literally get into the Batcave. I think it’s not unlikely to assume at some point he thought it could all come in handy and swiped ‘em) he could get the process going. This might differ since he was a minor at time of death but again every real case I’ve found so far was dealing with adults so I’m not sure.

Getting the US government to declare you alive though, like, from what I read can honestly be done as quickly as within a few weeks OR it can take years (but usually the ‘years’ there is more figuring out all that money and insurance related stuff, which again, not as big a deal for Jason specifically)

Another consideration I’d like to bring up is the fact that being presumed/found dead and later turning back up definitely happens a lot more in the DC universe than real life. Like, there’s supervillain attacks and world disasters and shit all the time. I think that realistically in the DCU there is probably a better system set up than IRL for handling cases like this, which would work in his favor.

I also think that due to the fact he was a relatively known person in Gotham, and we know Gotham’s systems are NOT the most uhhhh ‘by the books’ especially if theres public pressure and money being thrown at them, I pretty firmly believe he could have gotten it settled relatively quickly.

In real life it would be a lot harder due to the factor of the body, since he’d have to try to prove that wasn’t him even though it literally was, but liiiike unless Bruce had cashed in big on life insurance and didn’t have the means to pay it back (which this happened years before he lost the fortune LMAO) he should probably be fine, this is a comics world where most problems can be solved if you throw money at them (real life’s kinda like that too of course but comics take it to an EXTREME).

I do agree that Bruce would probably need to have been at least a little aware this was all happening, but for dramatic effect since this is in fact a comic book I understand why they had it be a surprise to him. A panel of Bruce getting a phone call from his lawyer wouldn’t have been nearly as effective as Jason just suddenly being on TV. Also like, I don’t think it’s impossible to rule out Bruce could have known he was in the process of legally coming back to life but not have known he was doing so in Gotham, because Jason being back in in the city was Bruce’s actual problem there.

Also funnily enough one of the cases of a person I found who was declared dead but is still alive was someone with the last name ‘Todd’, weird coincidence world. 

Some further reading about real cases of people coming back / things I might have referenced but wasn’t sure exactly where to link along the way: (one) (two) (three) (four) 

[extremelyblackandwhite]

handmaid - 34

PAIRING: mob!sebastian stan x ingenue!reader

WARNINGS: age gap, guns

A/N: i do realise i’m very VERY late with this post but i’m growing too attached to this fanfic. hope you enjoy this chapter x

NEXT CHAPTER

    - You know Sebastian, just because your father was a great man, doesn’t mean he was a good one. 

Sebastian watched as she left the room, the trail of her dress disappearing between the edge of the door and leaving him frozen where he was. There was probably not a single person in the whole entire world who could freeze him for what seemed like more than an hour, yet Y/N seemed to hold that power effortlessly, something she could easily control. What looked like someone who’d always be there no matter what was slipping like sand through his fingers. 

He rubbed his face, walking over to the good selection of glass filled bottles to pour himself another glass. What was he doing? Was he really about to marry someone who despised him and who he couldn’t stand when the girl he wanted was asking him to leave? Maybe he could pay off Forrest and move to a new country with Y/N after transferring all his money to other offshores. Surely he could do that without calling much attention.

A loud sound rang through the room and his eyes glued to the phone on his bedside table. He was sure he’d never heard an actual hotel phone ring and that alone intrigued him. He grabbed the phone from the hook, bringing it up to his ear.

    - Hello? - shaky and heavy breathes came from behind and he started to wonder if someone was trying to play a prank on him. - Hello?

    - S…Sebastian, it’s Y/N … - he could almost hear her cry which made him grip the phone. - I’m scared, Sebastian. I’m scared.

    - Are you alright? 

    - I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to, I’m so sorry. 

    - Angel, whatever it is, you can tell me.

    - I’m pregnant.

For the second time, the same exact person had managed to freeze him on the spot yet again but what was most worrying for him was why she was crying and why she was telling him in the phone. He kept calling her name on the phone but before he could even get an answer the line went dead. Without much of a second thought, he dropped the phone and rushed out of his bedroom, going up the stairs where her bedroom was located. The numbers seemed to mock him as he tried to run as fast as his legs could allow him to her bedroom. Knocking on the dark wood as forcefully as he could, he found no answer and without much prior thought or consideration for hotel staff, he grabbed his revolver to shot the lock open which led to an empty room. He looked around with the agility of a cheetah and eye of a predator but she wasn’t anywhere to be found and with more worry settling on his chest, he ran over to Gwen’s bridal suite where Y/N’s bodyguard was standing.

Surely if he was standing there she would be safe inside and the call was maybe Y/N being playful. Yet again, something in the back of his mind made him unreliably restless and so, much to the groans of some of the women waiting outside the bridal suite, he walked inside the room to be met with girlish high pitched screaming about how it was bad luck to see the bride in the wedding dress. How much bad luck could it bring to a made up wedding he didn’t know but in all honesty he didn’t care and mostly ignored the rest of the bridesmaids as he looked for Y/N who was nowhere to be seen.

   - Where’s Y/N?

   - Probably somewhere else. God, Sebastian could you at least follow some traditions? You could give me at least a few hours of freedom before I become a Stepford wife. - her eyes were mostly focused on her glass of prosecco rather than him which greatly annoyed him. - Y/N wanders around, she’s probably outside or with Jude Dubois, they’re awfully close. 

   - Was she with you a few minutes ago? - he ignored how uninterested Gwen was in her handmaid’s whereabouts.

   - I don’t know now would you kindly leave? This is my bridal party and you’re not part of it. 

Sebastian quickly realised she wasn’t here and Gwen barely care if she would return or not. He returned back upstairs to her bedroom, maybe she had been in the bathroom when he came to check on her. His mind kept yelling at him something was wrong and even the most rational part of him, the one that normally overwhelmed everything else, was telling him that Y/N wouldn’t call him like that, telling him she was scared. What worried him more was she being pregnant, he wondered if she was safe and if the baby was safe, with little to no regard at what consequences her being pregnant would be. 

He paced inside her bedroom but nonetheless it was empty with the smell of lilies and roses belonging to her fragrance lingering around. Sebastian sat down on top of her bed, sighing out of frustration and worry. There was no sign of anything bad happening in the bedroom, everything was tidy and kept to perfection except for one opened drawer of her bedside table. He wondered if Y/N had decided to leave with Jude Dubois and that call had been nothing but a joke but yet again, he could feel something was wrong, he heard it on her voice, her trembling breathy voice. That wasn’t the voice of someone who was playing tricks on him. His heart ached, completely ached in a type of pain that he couldn’t remember ever feeling. Something was wrong, something bad was happening and he couldn’t find a rational reason that would put her in a safe situation.

As he got more lost in his own thoughts, his phone rang. He picked his phone from his pocket to see Y/N’s name as the caller ID. However, before his heart could slow down from the mere stress of not knowing about her whereabouts, his whole body tensed as he recognised the voice way too well.

   - How are the wedding preparations? Busy enough? - Mr. Williams’ voice came through the phone with a pompous tone, almost proud. - Have you ever noticed how Y/N squeals every time someone grabs her? I wonder if that gets you off.

  - Listen to me, if she’s not in my hotel room in less than half hour, you’re a dead man. I’ll ... - anger dripped from his voice.

  - No, you listen to me. - he interrupted. - You don’t have the upper hand in this situation so I would watch your tone unless you want her head as your wedding present. Now ... I am a fair man, I don’t enjoy killing innocents just for it specially pretty girls like her. I’m sure we can reach an agreement.

  - You don’t want to start a war with me. If you touch even a single hair of hers, I swear I’ll make sure both my men and Forrest’s will go after you. 

  - Yes, I’m sure Michael Forrest will love to know his precious daughter is pregnant from you. It must sting, knowing that it was her you were supposed to marry. - he froze on the spot once more, unsure if he was once more playing games on him or if he had dropped. - You’ve always been like your mother, so gullible. You didn’t even bother check on any of the two girls, how they had the same birthday or how she was the only one to inherit a whole family’s estate? It only took a few documents to prove that yet you didn’t do it. I never pegged you to let your guard down for a pretty girl yet here we are.

His head hurt, his heart pounded harshly in a way that made it sound through his skull and all he wanted to do was scream and kill him. Flashes of her face and how she would always smile at him crossed through his mind as his own voice blamed him for her situation. 

   - Meet me at the Lotte New York Palace Hotel in an hour and maybe we can strike a deal. 

   - What makes you think I won’t just kill you? 

   - You don’t know how many people in your inner circle are loyal to me. If you tell anyone or if you try any little games, there’s several of my men who’d love a way with your little mistress and I’ll make sure to tape it so you can watch it later. Don’t cross me. - the line went dead.

He stood there, helpless, surrounded by her scent and belongings which only reminded him more of her. Every single memory he had of her seemed to hit his mind like a freight train from the first time he had seen her from his most recent denial of running away with her. He could almost feel her finger tips on his jaw, hear her little laugh whenever something pleased her, every thing was still so fresh, so recent. His ears were ringing as he noticed the little music box he had gotten to her on her bedside table. His hands reached for it, cradling the box close to him which caused it to snap open, the soft melody of La Vie en Rose flowing into the bedroom.

He promised. He promised her in Paris that nothing could harm her yet here he was, unsure of her state and helpless to fix anything the way he knew. He broke his promise, he broke his promise and for what? A family name? Her safety? She wasn’t safe either way. That thought itself drowned any emotion in his face. It was a blank slate and not even his eyes where Y/N could always find the truth of what his heart was going through seemed to show anything other than the pure void. 

Placing the music box on the pocket of his jacket, he exited her room and, almost mechanically, made his way down the hall, ignoring every single person who tried to talk to him or even congratulate him. Soon enough he was at the parking lot, entering his car so he could ride to the Lotte New York Palace. He was early, much early but all he could think about was seeing her again, see her safe despite anything. 

The hour seemed to go by incredibly slow but everything comes to an end and once the deadline reached its expiration, Thompson Williams walked into the hotel bar, sporting an irritable smile on his face as he sat on the high chair next to him. 

   - Why so gloom? - he taunted, for the first time holding power over the man he considered had stolen his golden opportunity of success. - Might it be because you have no control anymore? You let her be around me, I learned how she acts, I knew she wasn’t gonna scream and I knew if I endangered anyone she would do what I told her. So innocent, I can see why you like her.

   - What do you want? - Sebastian only stared at him, trying to not let the guilt or his comments affect him. At this point, he just wanted her to be back to him safely. Revenge could wait. 

   - Here. - he slide a document file towards him. - You’re gonna reside from your position within the family in my favour. Sign that document and you can go on your merry life with her, maybe use that little house Forrest gave her, have the kid. You were never made for this life anyway.

tag list: @lilya-petrichor​​​​​​​ @xoxohannahlee​​​​​​​ @irespostthingsiwanttoseelater​​​​​​​ @nikkipea​​​​​​​ @madisonpillstrom​​​​​​​ @cevans98​​​​​​​ @thelostallycat​​​​​​​ @sideeffectsofyou​​​​​​​ @anxiousdreamersworld​​​​​​​ @captainchrisstan​​​​​​​ @lookiamtrying​​​​​​​ @sarge-barnes-sir​​​​​​​ @stuffforreferences​​​​​​​ @thebadassbitchqueen @sebastianstansqueen​​​​​​​ @nsfwsebbie​​​​​​​ @strangerliaa​​​​​​​ @emzd34​​​​​​​ @everything-is-awesomesauce​​​​​​​ @dreams-in-blxck​​​​​​​ @krismeunicornbaobei

[fortheloveoffanfic]

Heaven, Hell and You

John Constantine x OFC  (A/n- Just gonna toss in some cheesy tropes to move things along)

Masterlist   Chapter 2

Warnings- Brief mentions of mental health

Chapter 3

John had made several mistakes in his life, though he couldn't determine if bringing Valerie back to his loft was one of them. She'd been eerily silent throughout the car ride, keeping closer to the door with her head cast towards the window as John drove in silence. And even when they'd reached his building, as led the way up to his apartment, she hadn't offered him the slightest pea. He needed her to talk though, so he could decipher what or who she was.

Valerie had to be special. Between his all too life like dreams and her being attacked by a demon trying to escape into their realm, she couldn't just be any regular human. Besides, she'd understood Latin as if it were English, and the only time he'd ever come across that was with angels. Nephilim, it was the only plausible answer. How could she not know though? 

Taking off the whistling kettle from the stove, John filled up two mismatched mugs, both with tea bags he'd been surprised he'd had, leaving room for milk and sugar in one. He had never been the most hospitable, and usually preferred to not entertain guests, but he also supposed that the least he could do after essentially dragging her to his car was try to make her stay comfortable. And of course, get her to trust him so she'd talk. 

After a while, he didn't really note how long it had been, Valerie emerged, wearing what he'd left out for her after offering to let her use his shower. Well, at least half of it, "I couldn't fit in your sweats," she blushed, certainly noting the way his dark eyes had landed on her exposed legs. Her very smooth, toned legs. 

Clearing his throat, John tried to shake off the perverse thoughts, "Its fine," he dismissed, "Tea?"

Nodding stiffly, Valerie relieved him of the cup, only stirring in a spoon of sugar before bringing it to her lips, "Thanks," she smiled, her face half hidden by the ceramic mug, "And um……thank you for everything else too."

"No problem," he obliged, gesturing for them to sit, "Just part of the job."

"The job?" Her brows knitted in question.

"I'm an occult detective," and when she still showed no sign of understanding, he carried on with explaining, "I do exorcisms, investigate the supernatural, that kind of stuff.”

“I….” Trailing off, she tried to make sense of it all, “Exorcisms? The supernatural? That’s,” exhaling softly, John could already see that the little bits he’d given were too much for her, “That stuff isn’t real,” Valerie shook her head dismissively, though, he could see that thing in her frightened eyes, that thing that told John she wanted to  believe him.

“You’ve got a better explanation for what happened back there?” Leaning back in his chair, John crossed his legs at the ankles, waiting for an answer.

Straightening her back, Valerie set the mug down, “Schizophrenia could easily explain that boy’s behavior, and it’s commonly associated with-”

Cutting her off, John interrupted her rambling, “And what about you understanding a language you’ve never learned?”

“Well there’s there’s not a lot of medical research on it, but I assume that a neurologist would suggest a brain tumor, or an-”

Chuckling dryly, John shook his head and folded his arms across his chest, “So you’d rather believe that you have a brain tumor than believe that demons and that stuff,” he quoted mockingly, “Is real?”

Clenching her jaw, Valerie stood abruptly, “That’s bullshit, that’s all nonsense and babble from the bible. Things meant to scare people into obedience,” emitting a dry, husky laugh, she rolled her eyes, “You expect me to believe that there are demons and one of them just knows me by name and decided to come after me. Cause that’s so believable!” 

John stood too, fuming at her stubbornness. To think he’d actually thought he could like her! “If it’ll save your ass then yeah!”

“Save my ass from what?” Her yell was louder than his, and for a hot minute, all sorts of tension building between them, they just stood there, both red in the face, fuming.

“You should be telling me!” Running fingers through his hair, John turned away, walking over to lean on the skin, “You’re the one they’re after!”

“They?” 

“Hell,” he clarified, “And maybe heaven too, I don’t know. Look,” his tone softened as John desperately tried to reason. Despite Valerie being extremely difficult, he still had the gnawing urge to help her. There was just something about her, he just couldn’t put his finger on it, “I know it’s a lot to hear in just one night, but believe it or not, they’re after you. And you’re the only person that knows why,” he sighed when she sat again, the gravity dawning on her just as she really started to let his words sink in, “Look, that couldn’t have been the first time-”

“It was,” she sniffled, swiping at her eyes, “I mean, it sort of was. I guess…..” Swallowing tightly, Valerie continued slowly and reluctantly, “I hear things sometimes…..they say they’re coming for me. Sometimes I see people that aren’t there, but the doctors-”

“Gave you a bunch of pills and told you it was all in your head?” John knew the story all too well, after all, it had been his story too. 

“Sort of,” she shook her head, voice teary and smaller than before, “They said that I was being paranoid at first, and then this doctor that I went to when I was in college, gave me antipsychotics. She said that was delusional and when i graduated, my grandparents had to pay for the records to be suppressed so I could even get this job; no one’s gonna hire a crazy nurse.”

Her story, as little of it as she’d told, tugged at John’s heart. Going through something like that alone couldn’t have been easy and he didn’t want to upset her further, but the more he knew, the better he could help her, “Do you see things too?”

Thinking on it in silence, Valerie eventually nodded slowly, avoiding his gaze, “Yeah,” blinking away tears, “The meds never helped, so I stopped taking them. And now I just try to ignore it, but it’s so scary sometimes,” her already soft voice dropped to a sorrowful whisper, “Gosh,” her voice broke, “You must think I’m crazy.”

Finally pushing off the edge of the sink, John dragged the chair closer to Valerie’s tentatively resting his hand over hers on the table. It was so foreign for him, taking someone’s hand like that and the last hand he held was Angela’s, when they’d tried the whole dating thing, but holding hers didn’t feel half as right as holding Valerie’s and John, for the slightest second, though he could get used to it. If only he’d let himself. “I don’t,” he eventually reassured, causing her to look up at him with wide, hopeful eyes, a couple drying locks falling over her delicate features, “I see them too, when I was a kid, my parents sent me to a mental institute. They tried everything, electrotherapy,” at that, she gasped sympathetically, “Meds, but nothing helped. And I tried to kill myself.” It was hard to avoid the sympathy that welled up in her gaze, and the way she turned her hand beneath his, so she could circle his fingers in a loose grasp. He hated the vulnerability that came with telling someone the truth about himself, but though his mind protested, John came clean in one go, hoping it would help her open up.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, squeezing his fingers, and suddenly, she was the one comforting him, “That couldn’t have been easy, but now you have a second chance, right?” Finally, she was starting to admit that she, at least partly, believed him, “Not a lot of people can say they have that.”

“Right,” just realizing how close they’d gotten, both leaning over the table and hands still locked, John pulled away abruptly, resigning to the back of his chair at the kitchen table, “And I’m trying to make the best of it. But this isn’t about me-” When he caught her staring, frown down-turning full, pink lips, he furrowed his brows, “What?”

“You’re hurt,” as quickly as she stood, Valerie was dropping to her knees in front of him, their position leaving John a little more than flustered, “Let me see your arm.” Without his permission, she was already holding on to his left hand, undoing the cuff buttons of his dress shirt, ripped on the sleeve from the earlier confrontation, pushing it up to his elbow, revealing his tattoo along with a large slash running for about six or seven inches at the top of his arm, “It looks like it’s only just started to bleed through the fabric, but it’s bad. It doesn’t need stitches though. You’re lucky, it’s not close to the vein and not too deep either. Do you have a first aid kit? I have supplies in my car, but…..”

“I brought you here in mine,” he huffed. She was so close, and with her looking up at him like that, wide doe eyes so sweet and innocent and plump lips barely agape, it was kind of hard to think, “I have some things,” he breathed, feeling like he should be looking anywhere but at her face, lest he submit to whatever spell that it exuded, the only one he wasn’t immune to. “But you don’t have to-”

“I insist, you saved my life,” she smiled faintly, “Though, if you’d prefer an E.R, I could go with you, my Id’s in my bag so it wouldn’t take too long.”

“No,” he dismissed,” I mean,” floundering for his words, John fought to uncloud his mind, “I can take care of myself, you should get some rest.”

“Look, I’m staying with you so you can do your job, right? You want to help me because its your job?” Sitting back on her heels, Valerie’s hold on his hand continued, “Well since I’m here, you should let me do mine, please.”

Thinking on it, John could tell that Valerie probably wasn’t going to give up the matter so easily, thus, he submitted, “Okay, there should be some things that you can use in the medicine cabinet, above the sink in the bathroom.”

“Good,” she all but leaped up, scuttling off barefoot into the bathroom, only to return minutes later with John’s beat up first aid kit clutched in her small hands. Setting it down, Valerie pulled her chair even closer, so close that when she sat, one of his knees parted hers legs slightly. And when she leaned over to look over his wound, John could smell his soap mixing intoxicatingly with her natural scent. She’d put her hair up with a tie from her purse, and her eyes were trained on his arm, concentration equally reflected in her steady hands, gently dabbing his wound with Hydrogen Peroxide, trying to bring as little pain as possible, “Does it hurt?” 

“A little,” He returned lowly, slightly wincing, “It did before, but I didn’t notice the bleeding until you pointed it out.”

“Okay,” when she was through with cleaning it, Valerie rummaged through the kit again with gloved hands, looking for an antibiotic cream or powder, searching for a while until she found something satisfactory, “There’s some bruising, it shouldn’t cause too many problems, but it’ll still hurt and we should keep an eye on it.”

We

“Alright, thanks,” John kept his eyes on her, admiring how she worked with a tenderness that he found often absent in other medical personnel. It was like, she cared in a personal way, as if he meant something to her already. He wondered if the treatment was exclusive to him, or if it was just something she carried within her. “So, you’re a nurse?”

“Nurse practitioner,” Valerie corrected, “I work in the ICU at Los Angeles General, most of a doctor’s work for half their pay,” she chuckled lightly.

Without warning, John found himself mirroring her smile, the mood lightening. “So why aren’t you a doctor instead?”

After a moment, she shrugged her shoulders, moving on to wrapping a bandage over his arm, to keep the gauze in place “When I was kid, my mother was an N.P in the E.R, I used to want to be just like her,” Valerie’s face fell, “She always said that I had…..healing hands, whatever that meant.”

By the time Valerie was done, she still held onto his wrist, her thumb tracing circles into his skin, “Can your mom…..or any of your other family see….things?”

As he asked the question, Valerie’s smile, as faint as it was faltered, “No, she couldn’t. I’m actually adopted, and my mom died when I was thirteen.”

“Oh,” his shoulders slumped as John realized that figuring out exactly what she was, was going to be much more complicated than he'd anticipated. Usually, it was easy for him, he could see past the surface, but Valerie, as far as he could see, was perfectly human. And who knew how much her parents, or at least her dad, would know. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, it was a long time ago,” her forced smile was enough to tell John that Valerie was done with the topic, and when she moved her hands, starting to pack up everything she’d taken out, “And um, you should take something, for the pain, and try not to get it wet when you shower,” the chair scraped on the worn tiles when she stood, “Thank you for everything but maybe I should see if my dress is dried and-”

“You have to stay here,” John objected hastily, frightening her in the slightest, “I mean,” he tried to broach the matter again, “I mean, it might not be safe for you to get back or stay alone, we still don’t know why that demon was after you, and something else could come just as easily, you really should stay.”

“I couldn’t impose like that,” she shook her head, desperately not wanting to overstay her welcome.

Standing too, John placed a tentative hand on her shoulder, causing her to meet his gaze once more, “You wouldn’t be. Stay tonight, and tomorrow, we can talk about this some more, when you’ve gotten some rest. Please?”

Hesitating for a moment, Valerie weighed the options; go home alone at nearly two in the morning and possibly get attacked by something she knew nothing about, or stay with a somewhat trustworthy though abrasive, handsome stranger and be safe. "Fine, but I have to get my car, first thing tomorrow morning."

"Okay," he determined, "I've gotta take a shower, but you can take the bed."

Giving John's place a sweeping look, she noted his mismatched furniture; a rickety kitchen table with four chairs, a long sofa with a couple worn throw pillows nearby in front of her, and behind her, near the furthest window was a bed, haphazardly made. "Where will you sleep?"

"Couch," he gestured to the sofa behind him, trying to move around her, only for Valerie to grab his bicep, stopping him suddenly.

"You don't have to do that, we can share it," when his expression suggested that he wasn't readily on board with the idea, she offered, "Or I can take the couch, whatever is better for you."

It was weird, sleeping in an unfamiliar bed with a man she didn't know. Valerie had only ever had one, one night stand and even then, she'd been too drunk to care whose bed she'd fallen asleep in. But that night, with John, the alcohol had already subsided and though they'd come close to kissing, she was pretty sure he wasn't interested in her like that. 

She'd been laying beneath his thin covers, pillows wedged between his sleeping body and her annoyingly awake one for nearly an hour and a half, and not once had her eyes felt heavy. Valerie was wide awake. 

The digital alarm clock on her side, with its glowing red numbers told her that it was nearing three am and all Valerie could have mustered up by then was, at most, five minutes of shutting her eyes tightly and hoping for the best. Though, the best never came. 

She laid like that for a while more, that was, until John started fretting in his sleep, mumbling incoherently as beads of perspiration gathered on his brow. "John?" Valerie sat up, shifting to face him, too scared of his reaction to rouse him. "John?" She called a bit louder, her worry building. Valerie had seen people have nightmares before, ex boyfriends or patients during a night shift, but they much unlike the one she was witnessing right then. John was thrashing, occasionally yelling.

When he eventually shot up it was minutes later with wide, disoriented eyes, hands reaching out wildly, and maybe she'd heard wrong, but her name leaving his lips in a babbled cry. It took him a while to settle down, but even when he did, Valerie threaded carefully, "Are you okay?"

Her hand lingered in his shoulder, actually itching to cup his cheek, and John gazed at her intensely in the darkness before speaking again, like he had to be sure she was really there, "Yeah," he swallowed thickly, chest dominated by deep, heavy breaths, “It was just a bad dream. You should get back to sleep.”

Ignoring his advice, Valerie squeezed his shoulder affectionately, scooting closer despite her better judgement, jamming her thigh against the makeshift barrier keeping them apart, “Do you want to talk about it? What was it about?” 

Once again, their faces were too close, and it felt too comfortable, so comfortable that neither John nor Valerie showed any signs of moving away from each other. His throat felt tight and dry, though his heart was slowing with every second that her hand remained on his bare shoulder. Healing hands. She was there, and she was okay. When the word finally fell off his lips, lonesome, quiet though speaking immeasurable volumes in the silence, they just stared at each other, not knowing if to lean in or pull away, “You.”

******

Tagging- @harrisongslimited @magnificentclodpiebanana @keandrews @greenmanalishi  @rdjloverxxx @danceoftwowolves  @planetkt @wheretheriversrunintothesea  @luxx-aeterna

[angeltrapz]

SAW ASK!!!!!! 💞 n ee wayz as far as Eric/Adam goes i wld love to hear yr thoughts on how their relationship looks @ th very beginning when Eric still v v fresh in his recovery (obvs we’ve talked a lil abt this both but expandin on stuff), n also u mentioned Eric knowing how to bake (at least some things) n id LOVE to hear more abt that!! also for a general SAW polycule question, just bc it’s a dynamic i don’t think either of us have rlly touched on, thoughts on William + Mallick?

SAW ASK!!! (tysm!! <3)

okay so Eric/Adam:

I rly like th idea u had where they meet at one of Bobby’s groups (also throwing in tht I think abt Group Therapy All The Time) bc like. neither of them want to be there, neither of them rly have much in common w any other survivors, n neither of them can stand Bobby Dagen. so tht’s still like, th foundation fr how these 2 meet to me lol. the idea of them listening 2 him talk while rolling their eyes at each other n fake gagging is So Good.

I feel like Adam is just... rly open? w Eric? bc god does he understand how fucking hard it is 2 be around ppl after smth like that - maybe not to the same extent (though they DO have tht solidarity), but like. there’s only so many times u can hear “I’m so sorry tht happened/I can only imagine what u went thru” b4 yr ready 2 just tell ppl to shut the fuck up. so like, on Eric’s side of things, not getting tht frm Adam? not hearing the whole “I’m rly sorry u almost lost yr son and were locked up fr six months”? tht’s foreign territory ENTIRELY 2 him. sorry is all anyone has to say, even other survivors. Adam not saying sorry n instead being like “well I’m glad yr still around” is kind of what makes tht decision in Eric’s head like, yes, I think I want 2 get to know this dude. He Gets It.

n Adam is just patient too. letting Eric come 2 him, making sure he knows he’s there, tht sorta thing, bc regardless of how much he likes Adam, being around ppl again is not smth he can just jump into. it’s a wound tht is still raw n open n aching n he needs to treat it w care instead of rubbing salt in. n Eric half expects tht to turn Adam away, esp when he sometimes goes a day w no communication, but it doesn’t n he’s just sorta like ??? bc Eric never rly... saw some1 making tht kind of accommodation fr him, never expected some1 to understand it. tht’s another region I feel they’re very similar in - contact, sometimes, can b very very hard, even over text. if they don’t speak all day, tht’s okay - they send each other “i’m okay” texts n th other person responds w “good” n tht’s fine. Adam provides compromises when Eric never even knew tht was a possibility. it’s good.

things progress kinda slowly but not in a bad way. they’re just kind of getting used 2 each other - both of them have been alone fr so long, having some1 in their lives tht they give a shit abt n who gives a shit abt them is smth they’re both navigating. fr Eric, it’s being around some1 consistently after his trap. fr Adam, it’s actually having a friend who doesn’t make him feel like shit + having some1 he can definitively say is there. sometimes its easier 2 sit in comfortable silence than it is to force a convo neither of thm rly have the energy fr. sometimes just being in a room together is enough. tht’s smth they both notice - tht it’s like. they find it easy 2 be around each other. which is SO foreign to both of thm so they’re just kinda feelin it out?

n again like u’ve written b4, I also feel one of th turning points is when Eric calls Adam abt his hair + Adam shaves it fr him in his bathroom. tht’s th point where they’re both like “oh, I rly care abt this person.” bc it’s three in th fucking morning, Adam didn’t even have 2 pick up his phone or even answer when he saw it was Eric. but he did, bc he cares, bc he wants to help, n Adam’s just kinda freaking out internally too bc it’s been a looong time since he’s felt tht way abt some1 - he just wants Eric 2 be okay. n it’s then tht he’s kinda like, coming 2 terms w th fact that he truly cares abt someone who he can say without a doubt cares abt him too and it’s just like. oof. ESP when Eric sleeps over bc again, it’s early as fuck, and isn’t it so much easier 2 just have him stay? isn’t it easier fr Adam to make space fr Eric in his bed n home n heart? n Eric actually doesn’t tell Adam abt this later, but tht night he sleeps over after Adam shaves his hair? it’s th best he’s slept in fucking weeks.

I feel like after tht they’re a LOT more comfortable w each other - not tht they weren’t b4; I mean in th sense tht when they’re not doing too great, they’ll reach out 2 each other rather than bottling it up n dealing w it alone. Adam comes over w CDs he likes bc he can’t talk abt it but he doesn’t want 2 be by himself n they sit in Eric’s living room together in comfortable silence. sometimes Eric sings 2 him. they both find tht it helps. Eric becomes more accustomed 2 accepting help when he knows he needs it + Adam offers - dimming th lights n staying close by to keep him frm getting another migraine, having th TV on but w the sound down low enough tht it doesn’t feel like some1′s hitting him over th head w too-loud dialogue, getting things fr him on th days tht his nerve pain flares up n he’s mostly confined 2 his bed. they’re there fr each other. this is what friendship looks like fr them, two Jigsaw survivors who understand each other better than any1 else ever could.

another huge step fr them is like, th first time Adam offers 2 help w Eric’s rashes. I feel like, even as they grow closer, tht’s still not smth he’s vocal abt/comfortable showing often, something he’s ashamed of bc he feels like it’s gross n he doesn’t want 2 like. make Adam deal w that. but like during one of their sleepovers where Adam cuts his hair fr him n Eric’s got his shirt off he just. grabs the ointment he knows Eric keeps in th cabinet above the sink n while Eric’s still sitting w his back to him, he wordlessly begins tending 2 the rash spread along Eric’s shoulders n his neck n back, n Eric just. freezes. Adam doesn’t say anything, just does it fr him, n Eric kinda. Breaks Down a lil bit. like he just starts silently sobbing bc Adam doesn’t have 2 do this. he doesn’t have to help him w one of th things Eric hates most abt his own body. he could think it’s Gross. but he doesn’t think it’s gross n he doesn’t mind touching it and he’s so gentle when applying the ointment n then when he’s done he just kind of leans against Eric’s back bc He Knows. he reaches around front n grabs one of Eric’s hands n just sits there w him while he cries it out, holding his hand 2 say I’m right here, I’m not going anywhere, n that is MAJOR fr Eric. and honestly? tht’s kind of th first time he Rly becomes aware of “oh fuck I love him.” (Adam too, ngl)

basically, the way it starts is a shared experience, smth no one else can rly say they have, an understanding based on tht shared experience. giving each other space until they begin inviting each other in. care, patience, “I’m here.” re-learning th feeling of mutual concern. somewhere along th way, it turns into love, and somehow falling into tht is just as easy.

-

Eric + baking:

YES I love this hc!! this is smth he picked up during his time btwn jobs during th earlier stages of recovery (but After meeting Adam/connecting w Art) bc he needed smth to do n was just sorta like, “well I guess this works huh?” n like. it was def a learning curve bc Eric can cook, relatively well/at least okay, but baking is a entirely different matter. at frst he was kinda discouraged when things didn’t turn out th way he hoped they would, but w gentle guidance on Art’s side n enthusiastic encouragement frm Adam, he stuck w it n has gotten pretty good as a result!! his fave things 2 make r peanut butter cookies (he does a little design on th top w a fork n both Adam + Art r like Oh My God That’s Adorable) + th aforementioned carrot cake cupcakes!! frosting is usually homemade n it’s usually cream cheese! he makes his own frosting fr cakes n stuff too (Constantly has 2 tell Adam to “keep yr hands off of th frosting/batter/dough! we’re not gonna have any left!!!” even tho tht Doesn’t stop him).

he makes rly good banana bread too! tht one was a lil harder 2 learn but he’s honestly pretty proud of it now. it’s so funny bc Adam typically doesn’t like stuff like tht but if Eric made it? oh it’s Amazing. (he’s like tht w Art’s cooking too kjdfhjs partially bc he is a Disaster in th kitchen, but also bc That’s His BF/Best Friend!!!)

if some1 is feeling particularly shitty he takes requests (Adam usually wants brownies + Art is partial 2 peanut butter cookies but w chocolate chips too) n it’s just a nice lil thing he can do 2 help, which is smth he Always wants to do. he also stress bakes tho so sometimes his bfs have 2 just kinda like check in n make sure he’s doing okay. but! yeah baking is smth he enjoys + is relatively good at!!

-

William/Mallick dynamic:

yr right I haven’t thought abt this dynamic much but I Am Now!!!

I feel like at his core, William is def a caretaker. Mallick, 2 me, is someone who is just wholly unfamiliar w being cared for. so like, at the Very Least, they’re both dating Adam + Lawrence, right? they spend a lot of time around each other. plenty enough time fr William 2 pick up on this. it just kinda. makes his heart hurt, bc he sees the unease in Mallick’s eyes every time one of thm performs even th smallest acts of kindness fr him - not bc he doesn’t appreciate it/doesn’t want it, but because it’s more that he feels like he doesn’t deserve it. n William Sees That and is just like. I Need U To Know You’re Loved.

they’re comfortable w each other, of course they are! they’re friends, good friends, who happen 2 be dating th same people! who go to bed together at night n wake up w each other in th morning. it’s love, they know tht, but Mallick still always looks so surprised when William makes waffles fr him fr breakfast. William cares.

n Mallick can kinda feel it, and he’s not resistant 2 it, but he’s definitely on edge abt it a little. but William also just has this air abt him that Mallick finds it hard to stay keyed up in, so it doesn’t rly take long fr Mallick to at least be at peace w William’s attention. but the moment he starts to really fathom it is during one of those days he can’t get himself 2 relax n is just shaking out on the couch, knees drawn up to his chest n his arm wrapped around thm, just kinda staring down at th carpet n just Not having the energy to get himself out of his own head. Lawrence + Adam r at work n Eric is taking a quick nap so it’s just Mallick n William.

so Mallick is sitting there spiraling n his breaths r coming out a little fast n William just sits down beside him, a mug of warm tea tht he sets down on th coffee table fr a moment, n he just rests a hand on Mallick’s shoulder. doesn’t say anything, just sort of like. offers tht bridge, opens tht avenue. n Mallick is like This Close to just breaking entirely, but what rly does it is when William just swipes his thumb over his shoulder n squeezes. n Mallick rly DOES break down, almost ugly-sobbing and wheezing, n somehow he ends up w his face in William’s neck, pretty much curled into his side, n tht’s when it truly hits him how much William cares abt him too. tht there are Several People who hold tht kind of room fr him in their hearts n lives. William didn’t even have 2 say anything fr Mallick to understand that, to know it as truth. n tht’s like, one of th events tht actually leads Mallick to building up tht self-esteem, knowing that.

n after tht happens, Mallick is a little less reluctant abt accepting William’s (+ everyone else’s!) help, at least some of the time. like Mallick will catch himself digging his fingers a lil too harshly into th stump of his arm (I’m w u on 10 Pints resulting in at least a partial amputation - like what was tht little scar in 3D???) n then he’ll feel William’s hand cover his n gently curl around his palm 2 be like “I’m not gonna say anything, but I see you, it’s okay,” n his grip relaxes. Eric will notice he’s working himself up too much n he’ll reach out n take one of his hands while he’s pacing + laces their fingers together so tht Mallick has to pause a moment n then he’s able to breathe. Lawrence stumbles across him in th midst of a panic attack n Mallick finds himself breathing easier when Lawrence takes one of his hands, places it over his chest + his heart, n breathes w him. Adam holds him when he jolts awake frm a nightmare. lil things like tht.

one of their fave things to help them both de-stress is they’ll lay in bed n William will read out loud to Mallick, who has his head on his chest n is listening but doesn’t have to put too much energy into keeping up, bc it’s mostly abt being close + having smth to fill the silence tht neither of them feel particularly comfortable in anymore. sometimes Mallick falls asleep n it honestly makes William rly happy bc not only is Mallick relaxed enough to actually close his eyes, he also trusts William enough to fall asleep around him, trusts him during a time he’s at his most vulnerable. it’s not uncommon fr Lawrence to get home frm work to find th two of them curled up against th pillows, sometimes both asleep or just Mallick while William continues reading silently and brushes his fingers thru Mallick’s hair. Adam def has a pic of them like tht somewhere, hung up on th cork board Art had bought specifically fr those kinds of photos. it’s smth easy tht doesn’t really require much energy + has the added bonus of just being close to n held by someone u love n who loves u.

and they help each other. sometimes William has a rly hard time looking at himself, the days where his guilt sits heavy in his chest n doesn’t seem 2 want to anywhere, n Mallick will just sit w him outside on th porch swing and just Be There bc it’s like. “I’m here, I want to b here, Jigsaw was wrong, you are not a terrible person, u did what u could w what u had and I love you,” in a single action. I think William also struggles, like u’ve mentioned tht Eric does, w th guilt of what happened + feeling like it was his fault. so Mallick sitting w him, their shoulders brushing, fr William it’s like, if he was truly as awful a person as John seemed 2 think he was, wld Mallick be this close? wld Mallick willingly lay down beside him some nights n kiss him good morning? wld he kiss him again on th cheek after he makes a fresh pot of coffee + pancakes? n William knows tht Mallick wouldn’t keep himself so close if John was right, so it’s like. proof of tht. n tht means a lot to William. sometimes tht’s all he needs.

they don’t have 2 deal w their struggles alone. they’re both surrounded by ppl who love them n want to see them do well - it’s only natural they feel tht way abt each other, too.

[wafflefries13]

The Consequences of Late Night Calls

Happy birthday to the world’s best blasty boy! 

This is the first fic I’ve written for tumblr, so let me know what you think!

Warnings: None, I think. Some cursing, some guy talks smack for a bit. 

Genre: Fluff

~~~~~~~~~~

The call shocked you out of a deep but impromptu sleep. You jerked up from the noise, a page of lecture notes sticking to your check. It fluttered back to the desk covered in its own mess of loose leaf documents, used textbooks that cost more than a weekend trip to Disney World, and a laptop missing three of its letter keys. 

You dragged your tongue against your teeth, trying to get rid of the cotton feel coating the inside of your mouth. Rubbing stars into your tired eyes, you wondered when exactly you had fallen asleep. Was it somewhere near memorizing the latin terminology for court rhetoric or around reading the case file and trial records you were going to be tested over on Monday? Deciding wondering was basically pointless, considering you had pretty  much forgotten all of it anyway, you pawed blindly around for your phone. 

“Hello?” You answered, eyes still closed, although it probably came out and more of a mumbled groan than anything else.  

“(Y/NNNNNNNNN)!” 

You pulled the phone away from your ear, wincing at the sudden loud noise. Blinking bleerally, you looked down at your phone. You had taken the caller ID picture a year ago, at a sorority Halloween party you barely remembered aside from the copious amounts of alcohol consumed followed by an ill-advised scavenger hunt that ended with a call to the police and the dean’s car somehow ending up in the agriculture department’s greenhouse crowded with Jack-O-lanterns. It was a profile shot of Bakugo Katsuki, his mouth opened in a mid-yell scowl, as was his standard expression, and eyebrows furrowed in annoyance. One hand extended to try and block the camera, the other clutching a brown bottle. He was wearing a fantasy barbarian king costume, chest bare to show off the taut muscles he worked so hard for all of high school to get. When he’d shown up in it, or, rather, when Kirishima had dragged him along in his own dragonborn costume, you couldn’t believe he still had it. You remembered sitting in your basement in 9th grade, pricking your fingers with a sewing needle as you and the rest of your newly formed D&D group, Bakugo and Kirishima included, spent way too much time and effort into creating your costumes. 

Rubbing at the bridge of your nose in a vain attempt to chase away the headache you could already feel forming, you brought the phone back to your ear. You could hear the low thump of bass heavy music in the background. 

“Hi, Suki,” You said, trying not to sound condescending, but it came out like that anyway. 

“Hey!” He said sharply. The rest of his reply was slurred smooth. “I told you not to call me that.” 

You smirked. “It’s cute.” 

“It’s embarrassing! ‘M not cute.” 

“No, you’re calling me at-” You pulled the phone away again to check the time. “Katsuki, it’s like two in the morning, what the hell?” 

You heard someone shout something on the other side of the line that Katsuki mumbled a reply to. To you he said, “Was thinking about you.” 

You felt yourself blush despite yourself. “You were thinking about me?” 

There was a clunk and a bump. You could imagine him falling against a wall and sliding down to sit until the room stopped spinning. “Yeah. I don’t like it.” 

You ignored the jab in your heart. “Well, thanks.” 

“It keeps happening. I’ll just be, like, doing stuff, and then I just think, ‘What would (Y/N) think of that?’ ‘I wonder what (Y/N)’s doing right now.’ ‘(Y/N) would know what to do now. She’s so smart. And her hands look so soft. And her eyes are so pretty.’” He was quiet for a second. “It’s annoying. I can’t stop thinking about you. And it’s worse when you’re here.” There was a shuffling as you heard him try to stand up then give up again. “Why aren’t you here? I want you here.” 

You were wide awake now. You clenched and unclenched your hand, trying to process the information your obviously drunk friend had just confessed. Your stomach churned in a mix of anticipation, anxiety, and straight up butterflies. 

What the hell did all of that mean? Well, of course you knew what it meant, or you knew what it meant when spoken by a sober person of sound mind and body. But there was no way, you tried to rationalize, that The Bakugo Katsuki, the guy you’d known since freshman year of high school when he’d punched a guy who had flipped up your uniform skirt on the first day, the guy who had surprised just about everyone in home economics when he busted out a three tiered cake like it was no one’s business, the guy whos ego was big enough to have its own gravitational pull, was confessing his feelings to you in a drunk rant at two in the morning. 

“Katsuki,” You said in a soft voice. “I-” 

There was a retching sound from the other end of the line. Katsuki coughed, tried to say something, then threw up again. “Aw, fuck.” 

That headache was back with avengence now. You sighed, looking for your keys. “Katsuki, where are you?” 

“Uhh, on campus? At the Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. There’s a party. Why aren’t you here?” 

“You know I hate all the Greek life bs. Stay where you are, okay? I’m coming to get you. You’re completely wasted.” 

“‘M not. I can handle what I drink.” There was another pause before he wretched again. 

“Did you just throw up again?” 

“...No.” 

“Cool. I’ll be there in ten.” 

You didn’t wait for him to respond before hanging it. You didn’t think your heart could take it if he kept going on like he had been. Grabbing your keys and heading out of your crowded studio apartment, you hopped in your car to go save your drunk friend from making any other ill advised decisions that night. 

You realized that you were probably over thinking the whole phone call as you drove through deserted streets. You couldn’t help it, it was a bad habit you had formed as a kid that now  made you obsess over court documents and testimonies in class. But now, instead of helping, it was picking you apart. What did Katsuki’s tone imply when he was talking to you just now? Could you trust the tone of an inebriated person? What did he mean when he said he thought about you a lot? You’d known each other for years now, being involved in almost all the same activities. Wouldn’t it be natural to think about someone you spent so much time with? But you’d known Kirishima for just as long, not to mention the rest of the self-named “Baku-Squad.” You’d never gotten a late night drunk call from any of them. Heck, Katsuki had known Izuku way longer than he had known you, and you were pretty dang sure Katsuki had never called him going on and on about how he always thought about him. 

Stopping at a red light, you pressed your forehead into the soft faux-leather of your steering wheel, willing your thoughts to calm down and just come to a rational conclusion already. Expect, you know, a rational conclusion that wasn’t that the guy you had carried a torch for for almost as long as you had known him might actually have feelings for you back. 

You turned on to the street lined with sororities and fraternities across from the main campus. You had to slam on your breaks almost immediately to avoid running over a tipsy, giggling co-ed who was stumbling out into the road. She didn’t even look up at you. 

You didn’t know exactly which house Katsuki was stranded at, considering you could see at least three different parties all going on at first glance. His “Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever” wasn’t very helpful, either, considering all the Greek letters adorning the houses blended together in your mind at some point. And you really didn’t want to tramp through a bunch of different houses tonight. 

Thankfully, you were saved the trouble when you saw Kirishima’s 1969 Chevrolet Chevelle park half off the curb in front of one of the houses. You’d know that car anywhere. Kirishima had dragged your group to various scrap yards and auto-repair stores all summer after he got his license, the first of you all to do so, in an effort to fix up the worn down Chevelle that he’d bought for a hundred bucks and a turkey sandwich. 

You parked on the other side of the street then jogged across to the house that was practically vibrating with heavy music and Greek life energy. Stepping over a semi-conscious frat boy laying in the doorway, you scanned around the house for any sign of Katsuki’s pomeranian-puff-ball hair. 

You spotted Denki lounging on a couch, a lampshade on his head and a tangle of phone chargers clutched in his fist. His hand sparked every now and then as he used his quirk to recharge the collection of phones. 

You lifted up the edge of the lampshade. “Hey there, Pikachu.” 

“Heeeeeey~” He said, giving you a thumbs up. You could already tell he was too far gone, although you didn’t know if it was from drinking or the over use of his quirk. 

“(Y/N)!” You heard a voice call behind you. A body fell heavily against your back. Sero wrapped his arms around you in a backwards hug. “Where you been? We missed you!” 

“Studying. I’m boring, remember? I’m looking for Katsuki, you seen him around?” 

Sero snickered. “Bakugo, huh? He’s been looking for you for a long time, right, Denki?” 

“Heeeeeey~” 

You swallowed hard. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” 

Sero snickered again, flopping on the couch next to Denki. “Can’t tell. Part of the bro code. And he said he’d kill me.” 

“That does sound like Katsuki.” 

Sero covered his eyes with his arm, head leaning back. With a wide smile, he waved his hand in the vague direction to the back door. “I think he’s out by the pool or something.” 

You waved bye. “Thanks, I’ll go check it out. You guys take care of yourselves, okay?” 

“Look at ‘em go,” Sero said to Denki as you left. “You think they’ll have a spring wedding?” 

“Heeeeeey~” 

*~~~~* 

You managed to weave your way through the crowd of bodies clogging the house to finally spill out into the back yard. You had no idea how people were able to stay this energized this late into the night with this many other people around. You remembered once being stuck at another party, early on in your college days. When it became super clear you didn’t want to be there, overwhelmed by the noise, the crush of bodies, and the suffocation of social enterprise, Katsuki had dragged Kirishima over to you, planting him in front of you as your ‘extrovert shield.’  He’d stayed with you behind the boisterous redhead for the rest of the night. 

You wondered if Katsuki remembered doing that, if he remembered any of the small nice gestures he did for you over the years. And now, with his call, with what Sero said, with your over analyzing brain, you were dissecting every interaction you could remember. Was the time he opened a door for you a signal? Was the reason he would ask to study with you for chemistry, when he was way better in practically every subject than you, just so he could be close to you? Were the times he had given you his jacket when you were cold meant to be a more intimate moment? 

God, you were going to go crazy. 

Walking around the pool, you finally spotted the hot-headed blond. He was sitting slouched over on the end of one of the reclining pool chairs, forearms braced on his knees.  You almost called out to him, stopping cold when you saw the girl behind him. She had draped herself over his back, chin rested in the crook of his neck, one had massaging his shoulder, the other conspicuously sneaking under the hem of his shirt to rub circles on his abs. 

You clenched and unclenched your hands, worry gnawing at you as a headache at the back of your skull. Had something changed between the time he had called you and now? Had there been nothing there to change at all? Had you been misreading this situation the whole time? 

Katsuki looked up, his permanently affixed scowl even deeper. The second his jewel-red eyes met yours, you felt your heart skip a beat. He jumped to his feet so fast the girl behind him fell back against the chair. He tried marching over to you, which was made only slightly less intimidating by the drunk sway to his step. 

You didn’t remember him being so tall. You’d just seen him this afternoon. There was a flushed blush across his face, adding a surprising softness. Were his arms always that strong looking? Were his eyes that piercing? Was his jaw that strong? 

“You came,” He said, voice rough as whiskey soaking into gravel. 

You spread your hands. “Well, you said my name three times, so, here I am!” You laughed nervously, trying to ignore how his gaze pinned you down. 

He took another step towards you, hand reading up. “(Y/N), I-” 

His cheeks turned from pink to green. Lurching to the side, he vomited into the pool. You tried to help him back up, hunched over and trying to catch his breath. The crowd of people around you groaned in disgust before rolling in to sarcastic applause. Katsuki flipped them off. 

“Alright, Suki,” You said, rubbing his back. “Let’s get you back home.” 

He grumbled, leaning his full weight against you. You almost stumbled and fell with the sudden shift of balance. Katsuki slid his arm around your waist, hand firmly grasping your hip, as if he was the one trying to prevent you from a drunken stumble. His fingers felt like fire through your clothes. 

You decided to go around the house instead of trying to push your way through it. Soon you were making your way across the street. It took some maneuvering to unlock and open the passenger door. You practically dropped Katsuki in where his head fell back with a groan. You grabbed his seat belt and stretched across him to fasten it. It wasn’t until he started petting your hair that your realized your position of half-way laying across his lap. You jerked back, some of your hair getting caught in his fingers. He made a disappointed sound at the loss of it. 

You slid back into the driver's seat, trembling hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. You had to take a few steadying breaths before you were ready to start the car. Pulling out of the neighborhood, you glanced over at Katsuki. His eye brows were furrowed, eyes closed, mouth pulled in a small frown. 

God, he looked adorable. 

You hit the break harder than you meant to at the light. Adorable? Where the hell did that thought come from? He’d probably be furious if he knew you ever thought that. 

But…

You risked another look at him. When he let his face relax like this, you could see the slight chub that still clung to his cheeks. Another thing he would hate to know that you thought was how much you loved the softness that it leant him. It was cute. 

Almost without your realizing it, you lifted your hand. You were overcome with the sudden urge to poke his cheek. A car horn blared behind you when your finger was less than an inch from his face. You let out an undignified squeak, hands slamming back to the wheel. Katsuki grumbled and turned in the seat, head resting against the window. You could feel the blush burning up your face. 

A few minutes later, you pulled back to the apartment complex. You both lived in the same building, Katsuki directly below your own unit. And now you were overthinking his reason for not living on campus. 

When you opened the passenger door, Katsuki almost fell out. You jerked forward to catch him then dragged him out. He half woke up, as feeble on his legs as a newborn horse. 

You lugged him through the lobby. He was muttering under his breath, but most of the words you could make out were curses. Not unusual for him. You pressed the button for the elevator repeatedly. It just blinked back at you. You sighed in frustration. They had been doing maintenance on your building all week, but now might have been the absolute worst time to do the elevator. 

You shook Katsuki’s shoulder a little bit. His head jostled like a bobble-head. “Suki, I’m gonna need your help here for a minute.” 

His head lolled forward, forehead coming down to press to yours. In a quiet voice, he whispered, “I’d do anything for you.” 

You shoved him upright, face burning. “Then walk up the damn stairs yourself!” 

Despite that, you still ended up half-carrying him up four flights of stairs. You were uncomfortably sweaty when you reached the door to Katsuki’s apartment. The two of you had traded copies of your apartment keys when you had moved in. “In case something happens to your dumb ass and I need to come save you,” He had said. He would frequently stop by, usually when you were hours deep into an all-nighter. He’d bring his laptop and work on whatever 12 page essay way due on your bed while you poured over case reports. You’d sit in silence, just together, sharing the same space, content with nothing more than knowing the other was nearby. Or he’d bring you real food to make sure you weren’t just eating ramen all the time. In turn, you’d pull him out for game night with the squad, make sure he’d actually call his mother once in a while, and lend an ear to his semi-nightly rants on whoever he decided to hate that night. 

You fumbled with the keys, jamming the key in the lock then pushing it open with your shoulder that wasn’t currently occupied by a half-asleep, full-drunk boy who had at least 50 pounds and ten inches on you. 

There was always an expectation with the rooms of single college boys. Greasy pizza boxes, empty bottles of booze displayed like expensive decor, at least one poster of a half-naked girl somewhere, probably a basket of clothes that should have been washed weeks ago. And while you knew plenty of guys who fit that description, Katsuki defied expectation. His apartment was always immaculate. His shoes were lined neatly by the door, a calendar above his desk  color-coded with assignment due dates, bed made. Katsuki may give off the persona of a punk, but you knew he was a straight-laced nerd through and through.  

With the last of your strength, you lugged him across the room, dropping him on his bed. With a groan, you stretched your arms up until you heard a satisfying pop in your back. Hands on your hips, you watched as Katsuki moaned, burying his face in his pillow and pulling his feet up from the floor. You sat on the end of the bed, tugging his feet to you to unlace his shoes. You let them fall haphazardly to the floor, too tired to care about his level of neatness.  

You grabbed a bucket from his hall closet, putting it next to the head of his bed for when he inevitably woke up vomiting in the morning. Checking his bathroom, you put a couple of painkillers and a glass of water on the nightstand with a post-it note saying “Drink Me.” 

Brushing your hands off, you looked around and checked your work. Satisfied that he wouldn’t kill himself between now and when you would inevitably check on him in the morning, you decided it was finally time to head back upstairs and get some well deserved sleep. 

But… 

You turned back at the door. Katsuki was splayed like a starfish, gently snoring with his mouth wide open. You also noticed his blushing red fluffy cheeks. 

You tapped the door knob a few times before sighing in surrender to temptation and turnin back. You knelt down next to the bed. For a moment, you just watched him sleep. He looked so peaceful now. You reached out. Your index finger sunk into his cheek like it was a marshmallow. You couldn’t believe you had never done this before. God, he really was adorable. 

Your thoughts were abruptly cut off as Katsuki’s hand shot up and grabbed your wrist with an iron grip. With a shriek, you tried to scramble backwards. Katsuki lazily opened his eyes, not at all bothered by your struggles. With seemingly no effort on his part, he tugged you forward. Off balance, you fell into his chest. Katsuki wrapped his arms around you in a bear hug, slinging a leg over yours, trapping you on the bed. 

“Katsuki!” You hissed. You squirmed in his hold, not getting any extra room. He just hummed, nuzzling into the crook of your neck. You were pretty sure your face was hot enough to start a fire. “Katsuki, let me go!” 

“No,” He mumbled. His voice rumbled against your skin sending shivers through your whole body. 

“Katsuki!” 

“You can’t leave. If you leave, you won’t come back.” 

You stopped struggling. “What are you talking about?” 

He squeezed you tighter. “I’m loud. I get angry real easy. I fight a lot. And you…” He trailed off, his breath catching and rattling in his chest. “You’re so much better than me. You’re nice and smart and talented and pretty and caring and… and…” You could feel the hot tears landing on your skin. He was starting to shake. His grip had loosened enough for you to get out, but instead you brought your arms up and pulled him in closer. “If I let you go, you’ll see how much better you are than me. And you’ll leave. You’ll leave me because you’re better and you deserve so much better. But I’m a selfish bastard and I just want you for myself because I love you so damn much.” 

Your heart dropped into your stomach. You wiggled your hand up, threading your hand into his hair and tilting his head to look up at you. 

“I love you too,” You said softly. “And I’m not going anywhere.” 

Katsuki crushed you to his chest, letting out another loud sob. You could feel hot tears pressing against your eyes. You had no idea Katsuki felt this way about anything; about you, about himself, about your relationship. 

But one thing you knew for sure: You loved Bakugo Katsuki. 

~~~

The first thing Katsuki noticed when he woke up was the head ache. His head felt like he had a railroad spike jammed through his temples. God, what did he do last night? There was the party at Kappa Alpha Betta Whatever house. It’d been fine for a while, hanging out with the guys, playing beer pong, winning some extra cash from freshman in poker (where did he put that money anyway?). And then…

And then someone had said your name. He’d heard it across the room, an amazing feat in and of itself, but his ears were trained for any news of you. He’d jerked up right when he heard it, missing his shot at the beer pong table. He gladly took his drink and went prowling through the house. Who had said your name? Were you here? Were you coming?  

It might have been selfish, he knew how much you hated loud crowds, but damn it, he wanted you here. He remembered the last Greek life party you had been at. He’d lost you at some point between getting into an argument with that damn Deku and pulling Denki down from a keg stand. He’d finally found you huddled into some back corner, looking like a rabbit about to dart from a hungry fox (he wouldn’t mind being that fox, honestly, he could eat you right up.) You’d lost the color in your face, hands shaking as you clutched your red Solo cup almost hard enough for your nails to pierce the plastic. 

He snatched Kirishima by his collar as he carved a path through the room. He planted the extroverted red-head in front of you, creating an extrovert shield between himself and the love of his life you. He’d spent the rest of the night talking to you. Nothing special, he couldn’t even really remember what about. But he did remember the relaxed slope of your shoulders, the spark in your eyes, the smile that played on your lips at whatever lame joke he had just made. 

Back in the present (or last night, whatever), he was still stalking through the halls looking for whoever had mentioned you. He heard it again, the tail end of your name, coming from the living room. 

“-(/N) never had it so good.” There he was, lounging along the bottom stairs with a smug look on his face as he regaled the small crowd he had attracted. Katsuki recognized him as one of those legacy kids, the one who showed up to the first day of orientation in a sleek black Bugatti and took up three parking spaces, talked in almost every one of his classes when he even bothered to show up, and was, without a doubt at every party on or off campus. 

And now he was telling a story about you. What were you ever doing with an asshole like him? 

“You would never guess it from how she dresses, you know,” The guy continued, lazily waving his half-empty beer bottle. “But she is stacked.” 

Katsuki tensed up, his heart jumping into his throat. He pushed aside the crowd until he stood right in front of the bragger on the stairs. “What did you just say?” He asked through clenched teeth. “You're talking about (Y/N) (L/N), right?” 

He lazily swept his gaze up, grinning wide when he saw Katsuki. “Yeah, (Y/N)? You know, she comes across as a frigid bitch, but let me tell you, she’s an incredible lay.” Katsuki’s vision went red. The crowd started to subtly shuffle away, feeling the cold change in atmosphere. “Not much besides that, honestly. Thank god her tits and ass are amazing, cause her face sure wasn’t doing it for me. Super boring, too, heard she’s failing her classes. Oh, well. Hey, I could use a side-piece when I’m running my own firm, you know?” 

The asshole never saw it coming. In the span of a heart beat, Katsuki had grabbed his designer jacket and hoisted him off the stairs, pinning him to the wall so his feet kicked to try and reach the ground. 

“You listen to me, asshole,” Katsuki hissed. “You never talk about (Y/N) again. You never look at her, you never talk to your shit-stain friends about her, you sure as fuck never tell another lie about her, or so help me, you’ll get to find out what color your liver is.” 

Katsuki was half-way sure the jerk had pissed his pants. He dropped him in a heap, landing in the puddle of spilled beer on the floor. He brushed his hand off on his jeans, eager to get whatever germs the gossip had off him.  

He was almost out of ear shot when he heard the rich kid spit and say, “Fine. She’s probably crawling with it if you’re dicking her down.” 

The kid’s head made a dent in the wall as he richoched back from the impact of Katsuki’s punch. He would easily have a black eye and a broken nose, the chipped tooth would just be a  bonus. 

Katsuki’s head was fuzzy with rage, stalked through the house, bee-lining it to the nearest source of inebriation. How dare he? How fucking dare that absolute ass-wipe ever even think of saying such horrible things about you? He wasn’t even worth knowing your name, much less saying it. Not to mention the fact he must be blind to think you were anything less than stunning. Ever since he had known you, you had been nothing but kind and smart and caring and funny and…

“Baku-bro, you doing okay?” 

Katsuki didn’t realize how tight he was holding his fists until he relaxed. His nails had made half-moon indents in his palms, his knuckles brushed red from the punch. 

Kirishima had his mouth pulled down in that stupid puppy dog pout. “I’m fine,” Katsuki brushed him off. He grabbed a beer out of an iced cooler, twisting off the cap in a single motion and chugging half the bottle. 

“Well, that’s good, cause I don’t think Tim Flood is making it out of here without a few stitches.” 

“Good.” Katsuki finished the beer and chucked it into a recycle bin. He grabbed another and stalked out of the room. Everything felt too hot, too tight. His head was pounding. If you were here, you’d get a bag of ice and press it against his forehead. You’d probably call him an idiot for getting into another fight, that he needed to learn how to manage his temper better. He’d call you a dumbass but let you lead him away somewhere dark and quiet, away from all the other more insufferable dumbasses. You’d find some pain killers, get him some water, because that’s just the kind of caring person you were. Maybe you’d bring him upstairs, lead him to an unoccupied bedroom. The two of you would sit together on the bed, maybe just a little too close. You’d hand him the water, his hand would brush against yours. You’d look down, shy, blushing cutely. He’d lean forward, thread his hand through your incredibly soft hair, angle your face up to him. Your plush lips would part slightly and he’d lean forward and - 

“Are you sure you’re good?” Kirishima asked, abruptly cutting off Katsuki’s impromptu fantasy. “Cause you don’t look so good.” Katsuki bit his tongue. “Is it because of what that guy said about (Y/N)?” Katsuki whipped around, glaring daggers. Kirishima smiled and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Hey, bro, it’s okay! No one believed him, anyway.” 

Katsuki scoffed, taking a swig of the beer. “(Y/N)’s too good for him anyway.” 

“I bet you think (Y/N)’s too good for everyone here, right?” 

“The hell is that supposed to mean?” 

“It means you need to hurry up and tell (Y/N) you like her!” Sero shouted, jumping in out of nowhere. 

Katsuki dropped his bottle, Kirishima catching it just in time, and grabbed Sero by the front of his shirt and lifted him up. Sero just grinned his stupid, wide grin. 

“Come on, Katsuki,” Denki said, slinging an arm around Katsuki’s shoulders. “We all know you’ve had a thing for (Y/N) since high school. Why don’t you just put us all out of our misery and tell her already?!” 

Katsuki felt his face heat up. “I don’t- I haven’t - Fuck you!”  Katsuki couldn’t remember why he was friends with these three idiots as they all burst out into laughter.

 He snatched his bottle back and pushed through the crowd. He needed some air. He heard Sero yell after him, “You have to tell her eventually!” 

And… That was mostly it. Katsuki’s memories of last night sort of started to trail off after that. He knew that he drank, he drank a lot. At some point he ended up by the pool. And maybe he’d called someone? Oh, hell, he hoped he hadn’t called someone. 

His eyes snapped open at the soft groan. There you were, just inches away from his face, fast asleep and tucked in his arms. You were pressed close, breasts pushing against his chest, legs tangled with his, one hand clutching his shirt. Your lips were parted ever so slightly, breathing heavy and even. 

And you were so fucking close. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. His arms tightened around you and he tensed. How the hell did this happen? Did you actually come to the party last night? When, and why? What had called you down there-? 

Oh. Oh, the call! He had called you last night? Some time in his drunken haze he must have figured out to bypass the timed lock he had put on it specifically to avoid calling people with a too-honest tongue. But had you…?  Nervously, he looked down. He sighed in relief. You were both still dressed. At least that was one mistake he knew he hadn’t made. 

Alright, that was one problem. Now, on to the next one: How was he going to get out of here without waking you up? Craning his head around, he checked out the room. Wait, this was his room. He was in his apartment! A picture of last night started to form in his mind. He’d called you, blabbering God knows what, and then you’d been a good person (why were you such a good person?) and had come to get him, to make sure he was okay. And then what? He’d somehow seduced you into his bed? No, it was more likely you had stayed to make sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit, maybe sat on the bed because it was the middle of the night and you were exhausted, and then… This. 

Okay, okay, no, this was fine, he could fix this. He could slip out, let you keep sleeping. He’d make some breakfast in the kitchen and then you’d wake up, wander in rubbing the sleep from your eyes in that cute way you did when you pulled an all-nighter studying. He’d chastise you for lugging his drunk ass up here, for being out so late at night. You’d wave him off, compliment his cooking, tell him to take better care of himself, and then smile up at him with that blindingly beautiful smile and sparkling eyes. 

“Morning.” Katsuki yelped at your greeting. He stared, wide-eyed, down at you, as you look back up at him lazily with those sparkling eyes. “It’s kinda hard to breathe here.” He realized then just how tight he was holding you. He jerked backward, his shout of surprise cut off as he fell off the bed. He rubbed his sore hip, looking up when he heard your giggle. You were leaning over the bed, smiling shyly when he caught you staring. 

He gulped hard, feeling his face burning up. “Hi.” 

You tucked a loose threat of hair behind your ear. “Hi.” 

He should say something. He needed to say something. God, why wasn’t he saying something? 

“I-“ Katsuki stopped with an incomplete thought in his mouth. He suddenly felt uncomfortably hot, his stomach clenching and throat going dry. Your face dropped as you lunged forward, dragging a bucket in front of him (where did that even come from?). He surged forward, clenching the sides of the bucket in a white knuckled grip, and threw up. 

You slid off the bed and knelt next to him. You rubbed small circles in his back, whispering small comforts as he coughed up bile and alcohol and who knows what else. You reached over behind him and grabbed a glass of water from his nightstand. 

“Here,” You said. “Rinse and spit. Don’t swallow or gargle, it’ll just mess with your gag reflex.” Rubbing the spike of pain growing in his forehead, he did what you said. When he caught his breath, he accepted the pain killers you had and dry swallowed them. You really had prepared for everything, huh? 

Katsuki shoved the bucket away with his foot, leaning back against the bed. “Fuck…” 

You hummed in response and scooted to sit next to him. “So,” You said. 

“So,” He said back. 

“I don’t suppose you remember much from last night?” 

He clenched his jaw, mouth going dryer than it already was, if that was possible. He tried to laugh, but it sounded forced and strained, even to him. “Hey, we’re both still wearing pants, right?” You didn’t laugh back. 

“So that’s a no then?” The seriousness with which you said that made him pause. 

“I, uh, think I called you?” 

“MmHmm. You didn’t sound too great, so I came to pull you out.” 

“Huh. Thanks for that.” 

“Yup.” You paused for a second. “Do you remember… anything else you said?” 

Fuck. 

“Uhh, I owe you breakfast?” 

You looked away. “Is there anything you maybe told Sero that you wouldn’t want him to tell me?” 

Double fuck. 

“If this is about Halloween last year, Mina was the one who brought the Ouija board.” He smirked at you, waiting for you to laugh with him. Instead you didn’t even look up, staring a hole in the carpet with the intensity of your gaze. 

You let out a sigh through your nose, pushing off your knees to stand. “I’m gonna head out,” You said, rubbing the back of your head and still not looking at him. 

Katsuki jumped up, immediately regretting as his head began swimming. “(Y/N), wait-“ He cut himself off with another surge of nausea and lurched towards the bucket. 

“Katsuki,” You said, sounding frustrated. “Look, I…” You sighed, running a hand through your hair and turning back to him. “We’ve known each other for a long time now, right? And for all the time I’ve known you, you’ve been stubborn and pig-headed and aggressive and just, you know, you. But still, in all that time, despite everything, I still…” You pressed your lips, looking for the right words. “I’m happy when I’m around you, Katsuki. I feel at ease, I feel protected, I feel like I can be better at anything. And I’ve thought about this a lot, so much that it makes my head spin and my heart hurt, but through all the trouble I still think it’s worth it. Because at the end of the day it means I still get to be with you and sometimes I just feel like that’s enough, but now I…” Your lip was trembling, tears gathering at the corners of your eyes. Katsuki wanted nothing more than to take a big step forward and wrap you in the biggest, tightest hug of your life. Finally, you sighed in defeat. “But if you can’t say it, if the One and Only Katsuki Bakugo can’t say it, then how the hell can I?” 

Your voice broke on the last word. Katsuki was so stunned and suddenly pinned with guilt that he couldn’t move when you spun on your heels and rushed out of his apartment. 

Oh, fuck. 

~~~

“Idiot,” You murmured to yourself as you fled up the apartment stairs, furiously wiping at your eyes to get rid of the oncoming tears. “Idiot, idiot, idiot.” By the time you reached your apartment and slammed the door behind you, you weren’t sure if you were talking about Katsuki or yourself. 

You felt sick. Anxiety gnawed at your mind like a starving coyote. Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki? Had you really just confessed your feelings to Katsuki like that? Would he ever speak to you again? Would things just become too awkward that you’d be edged out of your friend group? They had known Katsuki much longer than they had known you, after all. God, what if he was calling Kirishima right now and telling him about the disaster of a morning, after you had taken advantage of his blitz out state and slept in the same bed with him? 

Well, no. Kirishima was probably still knocked  out from his own night of heavy imbibing. Not to mention that even he, the most kind-hearted and patient person you knew, would have to draw a line at listening to Katsuki rant while dealing with a massive hangover. 

And no, Katsuki wouldn’t do that to you. Despite his rough deminor, his abrasive personality, and his profane tongue, Katsuki was actually a sweetheart deep down. Maybe really deep down, but still. He wouldn’t be so intentionally cruel, even if you told him that you shared all of his baby pictures of him playing in his All Might onesie online. 

So then why were you still huddled on a heap on the floor, back pressed against the front door, crying? Why was this pit of loneliness blooming in your chest?  

You yelped at the sudden banging on the door. Who could be here so early in the morning? You had paid rent this month, right? You sniffed, rubbing your eyes and smoothing out your clothes. You hoped your cheeks weren’t the blotchy red they got whenever you were upset. You took a deep breath to steady your voice for whoever was outside. 

Opening the door, you looked up at a wide-eyed Katsuki, panting hard with determination set on his face. You groaned internally. 

“Katsuki,” You began,” About what I said, I’m sorr-” 

Without waiting for you to finish, Katsuki surged forward. You tried to take a step backward, almost falling, but he caught you, a strong grip on your shoulders. Without waiting for you to get your bearings, Katsuki leaned in, smashing his lips against yours. 

It wasn’t a graceful kiss, all clashing teeth and urgency rather than romance. His eyes were screwed closed. He stayed pressed against you, not moving, grip so tight on your upper arms you thought there might be a mark later. 

Just as suddenly as he had come forward, he jerked back, but kept his hold on you. You both breathed heavily, eyes locked. Your mind whirled, a hundred voices shouting at the same time. For once, you decided to ignore them and let your body do what it wanted. 

You reached up, wrapping your arms around Katsuki’s neck and pulled him back in. This kiss was controlled, soft and sweet. His hands dropped from your shoulders to wrap around your waist. He pressed in harder, adding desperation in the kiss, as if he thought you would vanish any second. When you both pulled away this time, he leaned his forehead against yours, noses bumping into each other, sharing the same breath. 

His voice was rough. “Sorry,” He said. “I had to brush my teeth first.”

[tfw-no-tennis]

mtmte liveblog issues 4&5

its delphi time babey

I'm sorry but drift & co look like such fuckin nerds on their scooter things on the cover lmaooo

oh god. seeing the first page just reminded me of how horribly confused i was for this whole little arc the first time i read it. i was like ok, who are all these new characters, and also why does everyone look so similar

anyways now i now what's going on. i love first aid

love the running continuity of rung being the literal only psychologist on cybertron (except for fr*id but that's later). no wonder everyone's fucked up they all have to share a single therapist 

ok i find it extremely funny that first aid was demoted from doctor to nurse, as if that's a thing that happens EVER - I mean it'd be one thing if first aid was a nurse practitioner (which i doubt is a position that exists here), at least that demotion would make sense, but like...the doctors i work with don't know how to do most nurse stuff (like BP, cathing, vaccinations, hell even using some of the thermometers - that's all stuff nurses/etc do), so demoting one to a nurse would be a disaster (just like promoting a really good nurse to a doctor would be a bad idea). anyways i know I'm being pedantic but it Be like that when you work in the medical field and read something that has medicine-related stuff in it

i love swerve giving ratchet the tiniest free drink ever lmaooo

is that skids being a rowdy drunk in the bg lmaoooo

unironically i love medical statistics. keep it comin

i love magnus’s giant sternal chestpiece thing. its like a bird’s sternum but without the massive pec muscles attached 

i love magnus and rodimus’s dynamic so much

oh pipes....im so sorry but this fun space adventure is going to be not so much fun for you

ratchets ideologies are certainly interesting, and i liked seeing how they changed over the course of the story

drift: why would i be SCARED of the DJD, I've got a SWORD, two swords even,

hvbhajkhfbsdjkf pipes really said ‘oi, you two - what's this, then?’ that's the most british fucking thing, that's literally something i say when I'm doing an overexaggerated british accent, oh my god,

PIPES IS SUCH A TINY DUMBASS. ILY SIR BUT WHAT ARE YOU DOING

aaaand now you're covered in dead bodies, pipes. look at your life, look at your choices

drift epic sword moments

drift confirmed for the kinda weird guy who has katanas that he uses to like, cut up fruit and water bottles in his backyard while rodimus films him

‘i thought i heard...bickering’ lmaooooo

ah, so its covid

this arc is how i feel working in healthcare lmaooo especially now that i probably have covid 

so rewind condensed the entire war into an 11 second long cringe compilation. nice

seeing the mechanical stuff past tailgate’s visor is so cool

poor tailgate, this guy is getting slammed with history from multiple sides. and like, bias is inevitable in ANY sort of recounting of events, especially controversial historical events, so poor tg just kinda has to take it all in and decide who to listen to 

that’s...not really how immunity works, guys. also, you shouldn't be exposed to so much disease with proper ppe usage

is there even such thing as ppe in the transformers universe?? there are fluid- and contact-transmitted illnesses, so there SHOULD be

is there even OSHA in this universe??????? unbelievable 

first aid, holding a giant fucking claw clamp: we haven't tried EVERYTHING............

first aid read a human wikihow article on how to jumpstart a car and took notes 

i love tailgate’s ‘mom says its my turn on the xbox’ pose 

tailgate has a point - he’s from pre-war times, where things weren't as grey so of course he would try to divide the two sides into ‘good guys’ and ‘bad guys’

CYCLONUS BE NICE DONT HIT UR FUTURE HUSBAND

go get some character development and then maybe you'll feel better

seeing the word quarantine is making me twitchy w/my possible month-long complete isolation quarantine on the horizon

drift pulling his swords on pipes and ratchet pushing down drift’s arms...lmao

poor pipes...even tho this is completely his fault, its still rough

also jesus, pharma and ratchet look so goddamn similar, reading this was so confusing the first time around 

drifts idea of subduing pipes involves turning into a cool car and also posing with his sword

also. never gonna be over drift’s massive thighs. jesus man

ooof now drift has the rona. ouch 

poor drift, his covid realization is getting overshadowed by pharma being flung around

first aid bustin thru w/the epic medical nipple clamps and some Big Boi Backup

ok that's an epic pre-beatdown speech from fort max right there, daym 

im just gonna continue on w/issue 5 now for continuity’s sake. yay!

the cover of tailgate in magnus’s autobot school is so cute

and we open with an incredible shot of fort max str8 up ripping a guy in half. i mean, to be fair, he DID just give an epic speech about how much he was gonna do that, and he certainly followed thru

yeahhhhh, fort max is not doing so well atm

when he puts that dudes head in his chest vent thing and then snaps it shut....man 

also i fucking LOVE when their faces are shaded all in black w/only the eyes/mouth fully drawn...fantastic stuff

ratchet: phew i am not equipped to deal w/this level of Fucked Up Mental Trauma. u good m8?

ratchet is already writing up a referral to rung for fort max as this is happening

drift is just laying on the ground dying like, oh hey yeahh I'm still here too 

i fucking love when punctuation is drawn in story - like here where first aid has a little ? over his head....fav

ratchet holding drifts hand ;_; 

ok tbh ambulon having switched sides 10 yrs ago is wild bc like, 10 years is barely any time for these guys, especially in a war that lasted 4 million years. that would be like a human switching sides in a war like, 3 months before it ends. probably. i sense some math bs, I'm just extrapolating here

all that mexican standoff shit is going down and first aid is just like But That's None Of My Business

ah so ambulon is an asymptomatic carrier 

and there's first aid with the save! iconic

pharma calling ratchet ‘buddy’ hbvakjdsbfhkasdf

ooooh i love that they figured it out - and i love that twist, that transforming is what triggers the start of symptoms. remember when drift turned into a cool car? yep

s/o to Ambulon Transformers for helping me in my medical terminology courses, bc now ill always remember: Leg(tm)

also this explanation makes a ton more sense (in universe, at least) than the whole ‘i guess we as medical staff have been exposed to enough Germz that we’re more immune to this or something’ theory 

ah, i love the meaningless (to me) alien robot medical jargon 

drift and ratchet hhhhhhhhh

‘I'm too wide’ fort max L O R G E

also once again drift is forgotten in favor of a bunch of other dramatic stuff happening vbhjksdfbjhskdf

godddd i love tailgates little flashbacks where we see how Important and Special he is, complete with his ‘bomb disposal’ arm label...augh its so good! 

and tailgate’s autopedia page even reflects his lies! like, did tailgate go edit that first thing upon waking up??? seriously, I'm fascinated by tailgate’s meticulous dedication to his fake life

also the fact that ultra magnus believes everything he read on autopedia is amazing lmao

ultra magnus: you think somebody would just go on the internet and tell lies? 

fuckgin love magnus’s long ass name/title placard 

tailgate hvbahjkdfbjhaskf i mean, he’s gotten the abridged version of everything else, of course he would assume that’d be the case here too...but not on magnus’s watch

magnus cant even say ‘fun’ hvukdasdbjfkjsadf i love my uptight law dad

love rung implying that upon questioning, he would easily divulge a patient’s name and maybe even information about said patient’s treatment while under him....love the disregard for patient confidentiality and hipaa in general 

not that hipaa seems to exist here, at least not in a fully realized form 

also i mean the above genuinely, i think rung’s tendency towards at least slight malpractice is very interesting 

poor red alert....super bad luck that HE was the guy to get roped up in that overlord business 

I'm glad that, at the very least, red alert was able to prove that he was Actually hearing something to rung, rather than get brushed off completely 

god magnus and tailgate’s interactions are golden 

also tg is much more sarcastic/quippy than anyone gives him credit for tbh

‘thought warfare,’ ultra magnus says with complete seriousness. god i fucking love this comic

now i can tell pharma apart from ratchet bc pharma has let his true Petty Bitch nature emerge and you can see it in his expressions

the whole ‘tarn is addicted to transforming’ thing didn't really go anywhere, right? i feel like i noticed that on my second readthru as well 

also pharma is such an interesting character given the context of him like, trying to strike a bargain w/the djd to keep them from destroying delphi, but that arrangement inevitably kinda making him lose it as the situation escalates. he’s also just really entertaining bc i feel like he kins the joker or st and probably gets into really heated arguments w/people on twitter about just abt anything

‘sound bomb’ i love this comic

another important facet of pharma’s character becomes clear around this time as well - how he’s really into ratchet. i also choose to read them as awful exes tbh, it makes their dynamic even more entertaining

‘killmaster, with the wand’ is one of my favorite running remarks lmao

also, was killmaster even a character before mtmte? or, if he was, was he an important one? it would crack me up the most if he literally didn't exist at all, but any way you spin it is still funny 

ratchet’s tiny humansona facing off against pharma is wild

‘I'm miles from anyone i truly care about’ brutal, ratchet, drift is dying like 2 floors away (im p sure)

SUDDENLY DRIFT IS HERE, ACTUALLY 

oh don't worry first aid, that sure isn't the last we’ll be seeing of pharma 

so like, did first aid save everyone by posting that data log to his wreckers fan blog or something? lmao love it 

i love the pretty fucked up reveal of ratchet having stolen pharma’s hands. like, damn dude. 

and that wraps up the delphi arc! our first true ‘arc’ of mtmte, and a fantastic one at that. short and snappy and fresh, with some very clever writing and cool new characters, and a lot of great plot threads to be picked up later. plus, we got to see the beginnings of drift and ratchet’s whole thing (and ratchet and pharmas whole thing). and the lost light gets some much needed extra medical staff, so everyone wins! 

well, we’ll see how fort max feels about this all pretty soon.....

[grizzly-bear-bane]

New Cigar Box, sneak peek

+

Arthur used to think that ‘growing up’ would be exciting, a whole new world of unlimited access right in his eighteen year old hands with this plastic ID and the wide eyed picture of himself trying his hardest not to smile. A new start, a change, a big change that meant them both moving forward, not backwards. A ticket to a bank account, for one. Legal cigarettes for another, which was a necessity for handling his stress. But most importantly, turning eighteen was an all access pass to an adult shelter he’d be able to walk right into with Eames without the threat of being hauled off by a social worker, which also meant no more Davids, no more nights spent outdoors or crashing on the floor of an apartment filled to the brim with junkies and the trappers that supplied their habits... Arthur's habit. 

Habits, now. 

He grimaces, taking a drink before he pours out a splash on the stone, earning glares as he toasts to Eames. 

At least this time he couldn't say it was his fault that everything had gone south. They had had to abandon the car in favor of hiding in Yusuf's apartment once Eames’ demons from Chicago finally caught up to him. Three months of living a life of pure luxury in that old station wagon with its no battery, no wheels, and no gas, but it had been theirs, one promise of Eames’ fulfilled. And it had been permanent, parked in the industrial garage like a mobile home. A home. 

Gone. 

“Maybe a month or two in a shelter and we can circle back to the car once Travis can get the parts we need to actually get that piece of junk on the road. Then,” Eames had said, “we’ll be out of here for good.”

Only, Travis never got those parts and Eames never got to follow Arthur to the shelter. Arthur had gotten them a bed, went to sleep, woke up and Eames was still gone. No goodbyes, not a hug, nothing. Just the threat of an eight year prison sentence and the promise of deportation back to England for a stupid armed robbery.

“Don't worry about that, baby, you know your Eames always finds a way to get back to you. I'm not going anywhere.” 

But even Eames didn't sound confident, not even after the trial was over.

“Two years. We can manage that... right?”

Arthur knew Eames’ tone had nothing to do with being afraid of prison. Eames wasn't afraid of anything. 

Except Arthur himself, or rather the kinds of trouble Arthur could get into now that he was on his own again. 

“Just keep your head down, boy, stay in the shelter as long as you can, and for god's sake, stay out of the streets.

And damn if he hadn't tried. He'd stayed put in the shelter, he’d kept pace with his medication, even jumped at the chance for free testing at the clinic on the second floor! He'd hustle once a week to keep their money growing in the account, he'd kept his head down just as Eames had told him to, tried his best to be civil with his new cot neighbors, and had done his best to stay the hell away from Yusuf, Nash, and anybody else with drugs. 

But as always, ‘trying’ was just a fucking delay for the inevitable. 

Even hiding out in a shelter couldn’t protect him from the one thing that had ruined him long before drugs did: men. The male counselor with his ‘clumsy’ hands, the creep in the cot closest to the bathroom, a brand new stalker… 

And him.

Arthur’s been wandering the streets on a binge since spotting him, the one monster that’s been haunting his every step since puberty. 

David hadn't seen Arthur but Arthur had seen him as that man loaded groceries into his minivan, a brand new batch of kids bouncing around him and his wife in excitement. Save for one boy. One scrawny little nothing sulking quietly as one of the bigger kids shoved past him. 

It was enough to send Arthur into a tailspin. Even when he'd been on his own in this city, way before meeting Eames, he still hadn't ever been this scared, this sick, this damaged as he was with that monster standing just on the other side of the parking lot of where Arthur had been bouncing in a trucker’s lap for Eames’ commissary funds.

Arthur's not even sure how long he's been staring at the payphone on the sidewalk. He's been riding on a high all afternoon but it's fading. He's lonely and growing more and more sick as his anxiety starts to build up again, but he's far too terrified to call… anybody, really, certain that Yusuf and Ariadne must have tossed out his bag by now, thinking him dead in a ditch or the river after weeks of no sign of him.

After his trouble in the shelter, Eames had told him to go back to Ariadne’s place with his things where he could at least be safe from strangers even if it meant putting an end to his quest for sobriety, but Arthur had wanted to stick it out, stay clean, and prove to Eames that he could handle himself. After seeing David though, he couldn't handle the shelter any longer. Just being near a man sober sent him right into a panic attack. 

It was like coming home, as easy as peeling a slice of cheese off its plastic, he'd quickly found some of Nash’s fellow junkies, though thankfully not Nash himself, and had silenced that panic. Hard. 

Heroin, he found, didn’t clear out his pockets nearly as fast as coke did. How anybody could pass up cheaper, stronger drugs when high, Arthur didn’t know, but once that quick trip to the clouds was over? Replaced with puking and more puking and other fun things coming out of other fun places? He was more than happy to leave heroin forever and spend more money on a drug he could trust, one that was familiar, rather than risk any more bad trips. Unlike heroin, coke didn’t make him feel so bad so quickly. Coke didn't judge. It only held him close and kept him safe, alert, but he’d never been high on the streets by himself before. 

Anxiety was one thing, but uncontrollable paranoia had had him clinging to that high just to pluck up the courage to show up at Yusuf's apartment, relieved beyond words when the squatter outside his door told him that Ariadne had left and gave him as good of an address to go find her that the dozing girl could muster. 

It took him the rest of the evening and the last of his coke to find the apartment complex but he'd managed, still looking like a battered wreck after that fuck up with the truck driver. 

But it didn't matter. Just like how his aunt would rush to his mother no matter how scared or how bloody her mouth was or how it stained the front of her dress, Ariadne had opened the door and hugged Arthur tight. Her long lost, chosen little brother.

It was nothing like Yusuf’s place. Small, simple, but clean and dry and safe. Even the streetlights looked that much brighter coming in through her open windows as Arthur sat at her kitchen table and let her dab days-old blood away from his busted lip. She gives him a pack a frozen broccoli to hold to his swollen cheek.

“I'm not going to preach to you, or judge or… anything… right now. I'm not even going to try to stop you. You've been through enough already.”

For some reason hearing that made him panic. He shook his head quickly. “No, no, I'm not, well, I only relapsed a few days ago.”

“Days? Arthur, you've been missing for weeks now. Eames’ been worried sick. So was I. Anything could have happened to you… and it looks like… anything did happen… Arthur--”

“I got sick and puked on a trucker in his cab so he beat the shit out of me. It's nothing--I’m going to get clean this time. I'm totally done, I promise.”

That promise had hung in the air between them, waiting for Ariadne to accept those words, but she waved them off, as disbelieving as Arthur had felt just repeating that promise himself. Even he knew he was nowhere near ready to handle a withdrawal.

It was soul crushing in its truth, but rather than leave him in that pain alone, Ariadne had gotten up to give him a hug. She’d held him for a small eternity before she’d wiped her eyes and looked at him earnestly. 

“You don't have to make me any promises. I care about you, Arthur, and that’s not conditional. That being said, I'm really, really hoping that you don't go off in search of drugs while you're here, but...if you need them, then...okay. Yusuf and I are still friends even if…Just say the word and I'll get it for you. Whatever you need until you are ready to quit. Okay? Just...please stay. Everybody's so worried about you, Arthur. But you're here now, and you’re safe, and alive, and that's all that matters. We will figure out the rest later.” She'd paused, frowning even as she lowered her voice and asked, “Do you need...something...right now?”

He’d just nodded at the table, fidgeting so much he’d tangled his hands in his shirt, unable to say or do anything else without falling apart hearing her words. 

“Arthur?”

He’d tried to say a simple thank you, but all he could process was David and his constant reminders that Arthur was worthless. “I don't deserve this. Especially not from you. I don't deserve any of this. I shouldn't have come here. You have your life in a good, good place here. I'm so sorry.”

“No, no, no. Why not?”

“Because…” He’d opened his mouth, ready to read off a mental list but with her rubbing his hands, even while holding them tightly to stop him from leaving, he couldn't seem to find one. He sat back in silence, staring at his hands in his lap.

+

[ruffiorocks]

Lena isnt the only one who has killed people.

Soo this might be unpopular, but if people are going to harp on about Lena killing Lex id like to remind you of a few other instances you seem to have forgotten about:

1. Kara killed or rather ‘obliterated’ parasite. Parasite was actually the mutated version of an innocent man called Rudy who was taken over by a parasite that corrupted him. Kara made the decision to kill him. Now whether you agree if this was justified or not is up to you,  but the fact is KARA made the decision to KILL a dangerous monster that would have caused all manner of havoc and nearly killed Jonn. But remember that Rudy himself was an innocent.

2, Anyone remember when Alex killed Astra with a KRYPTONITE sword?! Alex didnt have to kill Astra, Astra hesitated when she said she would kill Jonn. Alex could have stabbed her anywhere, like literally anywhere and then Jonn could have gotten out of the way. Again, this is up to you if you think its justified or not. But its still someone being killed. Astra wanted to save Earth, she didnt go about it in the best way but she wasnt your typical bad guy out for themselves. Alex killed her to protect Jonn.

3. I dont know why this one is ignored so much since it happened so recently, but am i the only one who saw Jonn MURDER an unarmed Manchester Black because Manchester taunted him? No just me that saw this happen? Manchester made Jonn see his family and then a white martian, Jonn, a centuries year old alien who has been through some s**t allowed Manchester to get to him, he then morphed into his Martian form in a rage, disarmed Manchester and didnt even hesitate to run him through with that staff! In other words, Jonn disarmed a guy and murdered an unarmed man because he got pissed. This one unlike the others, doesn't actual have any justifiable reason! 

4. Lena shoots Corbin, a man who had a GUN to Alex’s head, Kara is not faster than a gun touching Alex’s head. Adam died as a result of the Harun El, but he made the decision to go ahead with that even after Lena told him no and to go home. Adam was not a child, or a ‘kid’ he was an adult who made an adult and well informed decision. It went to s**t and Lena refused to do it again even when she was told to by Col Haley. You can talk legal ethics and all that jazz, but the fact is the show hasn't got time for logistics, if it did half the show would be in question.  Lex, a man who previously committed mass murders, both before and actually within the court. He killed all his guards, he then attempted to destroy Argo City (a city thriving now because Lena managed to figure out how to make Harun El), he was literally only seconds before trying to kill Kara! Lena knows that the world wont be safe with Lex in it so she makes the painful decision to shoot him. 

7. Remember when Kara went in guns blazing to kill Reign? When she made the decision to kill Reign but f**ked it up so Mon El and Alura died? She had to turn back time so she could save them and change HER DECISION to kill Reign. Shame Lena didnt have a time travel option to undo her mistakes.

6. Does anyone remember when Jonn was so pissed to see a White Martian he put KRYPTONITE hand cuffs on Kara, he had to have been carrying around with him so she couldn't stop him from killing the white martian? Alex and Kara had to beg Jonn not to murder it while it was UNCONCIOUS! No? Just me that remembers this then. Lucky Jonn had Kara there eh? 

7. Just a small one here, but does anyone remember when James, Winn and another CatCo employee were under the effects of Myriad and jumped off a building? Kara couldn't save all three, but she consciously chose to save James and Winn before that other woman. This isn't the same as her CHOOSING to kill Parasite, but Kara still made the decision to grab her friends first. This isnt necessarily a bad act, but it was Kara making a life and death decision for someone else in favor of two of her friends. We all know we would do the same, but that woman still died. 

Sooo how is the only bad one here Lena? Lena kills the DC version of Hitler 2.0 to protect the world, like the others who have all killed someone. But apparently Lena  is evil incarnate? Lex deserved a fair trial? Just like Hitler did? Yeah... no! If you had the chance to kill Hitler you would of. Lena apparently is the only one who is held accountable when she is responsible for a death, but Alex, Jonn and Kara get off Scott free and those deaths are completely forgotten. 

Kara wont ever forgive Lena for killing Lex or for the death of Adam? Well Kara was pissed at Jonn for a while because she thought he killed her aunt, someone she was related to and loved (so not the same as Lex) but when she found out that it was Alex, her own SISTER that killed Astra she was shocked for all of 5 seconds before she hugged Alex and reached out a hand to Jonn who had lied about it. Not sure Lena needs forgiveness from Kara for shooting HER brother anyway. 

Kara was also completely fine with the fact that Lena shot Corbin to save Alex. She even used it as an example when she was defending Lena to the rest of the gang. 

Adams death doesn't actually have bugger all to do with Kara even if she does find out. 

Kara was shocked for all of 5 seconds when Jonn unnecessarily killed an unarmed Manchester Black. When they got back to the hospital that same day she told him he could still be a man of peace and wasnt arsed at all. 

So Kara can forgive Alex for killing a member of her family, she can forgive Jonn for killing Manchester, she can forgive Lena for shooting Corbin who was trying to kill Alex, she can live with the fact she killed Parasite (with NO consequences and an apparent ‘no kill’ rule) and in an alternate time line attempted to kill Reign, but for some unexplained reason KARA wont be able to forgive Lena for shooting the insane, mass murdering, genocidal, psychopath who tried to kill her cousin, tried to kill her, tried to kill her best friend (Lena) had her other friend (James) shot, and attempted genocide again on Argo City that would have killed Kara’s mother and the rest of her race? Yeah..... I see some double standards going on here.

For the record, Lena doesn't need Kara’s forgiveness for the deaths of Lex and Adam. If she faced consequences for those she would be the ONLY one out of all the above to face consequences for killing people. Its lucky that Jonn had Kara around to talk him out of killing the martian, didnt seem to remember that little talk when it came down to Manchester, and Kara didn't seem to remember it either. Its a shame Lena didn't have her best friend to talk her out of killing Lex, but that another story. 

In conclusion, Lena is NOT the only one on this show who has killed/murdered someone. I honesty believe its just because people are looking at Lena expecting bad things to happen, or they hate her and they see nothing but bad things. But the others are all the ‘designated’ heroes so any murder or death they cause is absolutely fine, justifiable and instantly forgotten. They never face any consequences for their actions. Jonn was a civilian who killed another civilian, if Kara was actually doing her ‘JOB’ she should have taken him to the police station/DEO like she does anybody else. But again, logistics. 

For the record, im not saying there weren't reasons for all these deaths, or the above characters are bad, im just stating that it isnt all black and white and they aren't any better than Lena in these cases .

Whether or not what Lena did was right or wrong, the others have essentially done the same or had to be prevented from doing the same. Lena unfortunately didn't have a bestie super to talk her out of it, or the option of time travel to fix it. 

Oh and one last thing in response to “Lena HAD Kryptonite!”

1. Alex shot her SISTER out of the sky with Kryptonite. 

2. Jonn carried around a Kryptonite knife he ‘really liked’ and was disappointed when Kara the kryptonian didnt bring it back with her after a fight?? 

3. Jonn had Kryptonite cuffs he brought to a fight with him purely so he could use them on Kara so she could stop him from killing an unconscious alien. 

Rant over.

As always, discussion welcome, abuse not so much :-) 

[angrylizardjacket]

when i said it i thought it was true [1] {Ben Hardy}

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where ben is the reader’s ex and they are somehow working together on the set of bo rhap and they fall in love all over again ☺️ could you make it angst-y and then end with fluff? i love your writing so much!!

Anon asked: could you do an imagine where the reader is in bo rhap, maybe playing as one of roger’s gfs or something and she kind of falls in love with ben while filming the scenes with him as roger 💖 very fluffy pls :D

A/N: 3124 words. Super AU version of BoRhap being filmed in the fic. There’s gonna be another part, that will fill the prompts better. This might end up being a series. I hope you enjoy. Feedback would be nice.

When your manager rings you, telling you that you’d landed a part in the Queen Biopic Bohemian Rhapsody, you were elated. Freddie Mercury was a bit of a personal hero of yours, and to be a part of his story on the big screen, it was sort of a dream come true. 

In your first meeting, you sign a nondisclosure agreement, and you’re given the latest draft of the script to start learning, as well as a character brief. The script calls your character ‘Amanda’, the girlfriend of Roger Taylor who he eventually realises he wants to settle down with. You’d seen pictures of young Roger Taylor, you wouldn’t lie, you were excited for the role. Honestly, even today he was still quite a fox.

The point is, you were excited to have a fun time on set with a pretty blonde, make some new connections, and earn some good money. Some really good money.

The other shoe drops when you’re flicking through Instagram, and one of the stan accounts you follow has posted a leaked screenshot of the proposed cast list, and there’s your name, right beside the name of the last person you wanted to pretend to be in love with. Ben Hardy; pretty blonde extraordinaire, and your ex-boyfriend.

The table read is... awkward. 

The two of you are sat next to each other, and barely spoke two words to each other. You feel unprofessional the whole time, but you’d rather be anywhere else in the world, and the delivery of some of your lines falls a little flat. The director casts a concerned look between yourself and Ben as you rattle of what’s meant to be banter like you’re reading the news paper.

“They’ve got no damn chemistry; it’s like watching a celebrity divorce hearing.” When the Director vents to one of the producers in the hall outside after the reading, you manage to catch it where you’re just about to come out of the bathroom.

“They’ll be better on set, I promise, it’s just jitters.” She tries to soothe his nerves, and they’re off soon after, and you’re left with a cold, sinking sensation in your stomach.

“You’re Y/N, aren’t you? How are you finding the set?” The guy who greets you on your first day on the Eastenders set smiles with such casual ease it feels like you’ve known him for a while, instead of having just met him.

“Yeah, that’s me.” You agree with a quick nod, rocking back on your heels as you gaze around the space, trying not to look at him for too long. “It’s a bit overwhelming.” Actually, what’s overwhelming is that he’s talking to you. He’s Ben fucking Hardy, pretty-boy on the soap-opera scene, and he’s talking to you on your first day.

“Yeah, you’ll be right though; if you need any help or anything, just give us a yell, yeah?” And you realise he probably doesn’t know who you’re playing, or how you’re involved in that Season’s arc, but you certainly did.

“I didn’t know you could play drums.” You’re trying to be casual when you say it, but you see Ben tense where he’s sitting on a sofa in the rehearsal room, script and pencil in hand.

“I can now, that’s all that really matters.” He’s giving off such strong ‘please leave me alone’ vibes that it almost hurts, and you have to push through the knot in your stomach and sit down next to him.

“Ben, we need to at least be civil.” You say quietly, and he looks at you, expression a little forlorn.

“Y/N, we are civil, and we’ve done this before. Let’s just keep it professional, okay?” His tone leaves little room for argument, and you nod in agreement with a small smile, and pull out your phone, waiting for the rehearsal director.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” You purr, running your hand delicately over the collar of Ben’s shirt, as his eyes widened and he spluttered to form a sentence, just as the script had told him to. 

Your character was more a plot device than anything, when Ben’s character is at a low point, his main romance is on a break, and he meets you, a temptress in all black. Your job is to give his character a realisation, he starts as your cocaine dealer when his supplier can’t make the drop, and he falls for you. Depending on the audience reaction, you knew the producers were waiting to see if they kill you off or have you recover from your addiction. The point is, your fate’s uncertain at the end of the Season, and Ben’s character realises he has to get out of the drug trade.

“I’ve got something for you, from Oskar. Can we go somewhere more private?” When he speaks, it’s with surprising confidence, and he steps up from the bar stool and into your space, smiling as your face lights up. The director calls cut after a moment, and you step back, smile sliding to something genuine as an assistant comes in and straightens your loose, black silk shirt, and they reset the shot for a new take.

“Ben, could you try less flustered? You’re here to deliver drugs, you’re not a schoolboy.” The director’s voice was kind as she came up to the two of you, and Ben agreed easily before she turned to you. “Great job, Y/N, don’t be afraid to be more even more forward, if you feel it.” As soon as you nod in understanding, she absconds, and you half laugh.

“If I was any more forward I’d be in your lap.” You snickered, voice quiet as you dipped your head to hide how you were faintly flustered. Ben was quiet, just watching you for a moment, but before you noticed, the director called for everyone to standby.

“I’m after Maggie, do you know where I could find her?” Ben starts as soon as the cameras start rolling, brow furrowed as he leans across the bar to speak to the bartender, and that’s your cue to enter the scene.

“Hey there, baby, I don’t think I’ve seen you around here; I know I’d recognise your face.” And when you say it this time, he smirks back at you, a little cocky, and you can feel the way it makes your heart flutter and you know it’s not as fake as it should be.

Before filming even starts, the producers have essentially forced you and Ben into bonding sessions which, if this were several years ago, would have just been dates. Now they’re awkward and tense, and you tend to bring heavily highlighted scripts.

“I saw you in that Wes Anderson movie last year. It was a really good performance, one of your best.” He offers over coffee. The idea that he’d kept up with enough of your work to label one ‘your best’ has you a little shocked, and something in your heart warms as you thank him softly.

It’s gotten easier to hang around with him, and it’s even easier to pretend to be in love with him in rehearsals. It’s like riding a bike, how easy it is to let yourself smile and lean into him, to let the banter flow easily between the two of you, fond jabs that edge on insulting coming as easily as breathing.

Joe mentions that he thought the two of you worked together before, and when you reply that you’d dated for almost a year, he goes very quiet, eyes going wide. After a beat, he admits it explains a lot.

“X-Men did you real dirty.” You’re half paying attention to an interview with Roger Taylor that the two of you had been instructed to watch together. You’re both in his trailer, sitting on opposite ends of the sofa as you watch in almost complete silence.

“What?” He asks, after a beat, your words having taken a moment to process.

“Killing you off like that; they could have gotten so much mileage out of your character.” The way you say it is far too well thought out to be an idle thought. Ben smirked.

“You just liked the leather pants.” He muttered, but you’re silence is answer enough. You know he sees your embarrassed smile, but you can’t bring yourself to deny it.

“Hey, do you wanna grab a drink after and go through notes and blocking and stuff?” You’re shooting your third episode, and you’re far more comfortable on set by now. Agreeing easily, you let Ben drive the two of you to what he claims is the best pub in town, and you sit in one of the more secluded booths to talk.

It turns out he’s just as much a fan of you as you are of him; you’re known more for your bit-parts in long-running series, it seems like the only show you hadn’t been a part of so far had been Eastenders, it was only a matter of time. It’s an innocent night, true to his word, all you do is talk, and discuss the script. There is one part of the upcoming script that has you a bit nervous. 

“Listen, honestly just go for it; it’s not meant to be sweet or anything, I’m literally taking coke from you.” You tell him, fidgeting, and he’s hums thoughtfully.

“You sure? We can talk to the director, I’m sure-” He offers, but you laugh to hide your nervousness.

“Nah, let’s knock it out of the park, the script says go for it so just go for it.” You assured him, heart rate already quickening at the mere thought of it. 

The next day, before the scene, the director comes over to talk you through it, making sure that if anything becomes uncomfortable, that you can talk to her. Both you and Ben assure her that it’s fine.

“You’re far too cute for this line of work.” You say as you hold a baggie of “cocaine” up to the light, smile playing on your lips.

“Cute? Ouch, you really know how to wound a man, you know.” He says, leaning back against the sofa in the hallway of the grubby hotel your character was staying in. He’s watching you with interest, small smile playing on his lips.

“Cute’s not a bad thing, baby, but you look like you should be making coffees or playing football in the sun, not here, not with me.” And you tap out a little of the powder onto your hand, pretending to snort it before you turn to him, his expression dark and hungry, and he kisses you, aggressive, almost desperate, and you lean into it, almost forget you’re playing a role with his hand on the back of your neck. When he lets go, when he pulls away, your eyes are still closed and you chase his lips for a moment. Eyes flickering open, you see him smirking down at you where he’s standing, and you both know it wasn’t entirely acting.

“You don’t know anything about me.” He growls, and you know you have to smile like you’re into it, like it’s a challenge, but instead, you duck your gaze, giving a small laugh and wiping at the nostril you’d just “snorted cocaine” through, before looking up at him through your eyelashes.

They call cut, and the director announces, almost a little awed, that she’s pretty sure they got the the take, actually says she’s not sure if she could getting a better take if they tried again. Ben seems far too pleased with himself. 

“They want us to tell the public we’re together.” You’re resting your head on Ben’s chest laying at the back of the tour-bus set, and his hand is resting on your waist, which is bare for the crop top and booty shorts they’ve put you in.

“Yeah, I heard.” He replies, voice equally quiet. “I think we’ve got a meeting about it tomorrow morning.” Gwil and Rami are actually playing scrabble at the front of the bus, and Joe is talking to Singer, the director.

“It’s a bad idea.” You’re so frank that you feel Ben freeze, and you heave a sigh. “It’s good for the movie, but Ben...” You trail off, and you feel it when he forces himself to relax. “It wouldn’t be real, it would just be weird.”

“Y/N, we’re actors.” He says very pointedly, and when you turn, resting your chin on his chest, he looks tired, a little exasperated. “It’s just a business deal.” He assured, and you let out a low, thoughtful grumble. 

“We’ll discuss it tomorrow.” You allow, and he nods once, shifting to a more comfortable position, and you go back to resting your head on his chest, eyes fluttering closed as Singer called for the shot to be reset and a bunch of people came and straightened your clothes, and touched up your makeup, all without you having to move much.

You agree to the terms set forth in the meeting easily, the story being that your relationship rekindled on set, and that you were now madly in love, mirroring the relationship you were portraying on screen.

“Wait, does that mean-?” Ben leans forward in his chair, with his heart in his throat as he followed their logic, thinking through the plot of the movie. “Like engaged?” He asked.

“Seems a bit fast.” You agreed, voice level enough that someone might mistake you for calm rather than internally freaking out, and your managers shared a look.

“There will be a public proposal during or after the world premiere, that’s up to you both, and after the movie is out on DVD, you can go your separate ways.” They assured, but your mouth fell open.

“You know he left me for X-Men, right?” You splutter, and Ben’s eyes widen as he turns to you with a scoff.

“You’re the one who said the distance was too much for us while I was in Cairo.” He snapped, and you threw your hands in the air.

“I was offering to come and stay with you instead, but you said you were too busy!” That was enough to shut him up, his mouth snapping closed as he turned away sharply, huffing out a resigned sigh.

“We have a few brands and restaurants who are interested in sponsoring, and the producers are willing to increase both your salaries if you go through with it for the full duration.” Your manager informed you both carefully, and you and Ben shared a resigned look.

“Fake intend to marry me for like three months?” He asked, voice low and bitter, and after heaving a long sigh, you look to your managers,

“Fine.”

“I think I love you.” Ben’s character shows up at your character’s door, and you open it in a silk robe. 

“Hello to you too.” You laughed, but he’s so serious, so sincere, and when he doesn’t flinch, doesn’t offer anything else, you step up to him, pressing your lips to his, and he wraps his arms around you, hands sliding against the silk over your hips, and you pull back.

“You’re too sweet for me, baby,” voice so low it’s barely a whisper, he’s the one who chases your lips this time, but your catch his chin, and his eyes open. 

“You’re high.” He says softly, voice raw and a little desperate.

“And you’re my dealer.” You push him back gently, going to close the door and his expression turns angry.

“That doesn’t mean anything; I love you, Maggie.” His words hang heavily in the air, but before you can respond, they call for cut. You’re told to play it more like it hurts to try and turn him down, and you agree, smiling and nodding all the while. Everyone sets up for another take and you close the door.

When you kiss him this time, his hands are holding your face, and you’ve got your arms around his neck, and it’s like the world falls away from around you. It’s not acting now, hasn’t been for weeks, almost months now, not since he’d asked you out officially. Every time you kiss him you’re desperate to drown in his embrace, and he kisses you like it’s just the two of you, no cameras, no scripts.

“You’re-” and he cuts you off with another quick kiss, which has you laughing a little sadly, “Peter you’re too sweet for me.” He rests his forehead against yours, heaving a sigh.

“I know you’re high.” He says gently, and you don’t push him away this time, just lean back, your finger lifting his chin.

“And you’re my dealer.” You tell him, expression falling.

“That doesn’t mean anything, that doesn’t matter; I love you.” And you know that in that moment, the words mean so much more than the script, than these characters, than the show; he loves you. Ben loves you.

You avoid him, outside of filming, until you actually get a call from your manager telling you you’re contractually obligated to be seen in public together at least once a week. Even while filming you’re short with him, and he’s quick to get away from you the moment he doesn’t need to be around you, which was getting to be pretty bad, seeing as how you had been blocking a sex scene.

After the call, you and Ben get a drink. It’s awkward at first, though that’s unsurprising. After a long sip of his beer, he pats his thighs where he’s sitting in the armchair across from you. You make a face at him, shaking your head. 

“It’ll look less suspicious than if we’re shouting at each other across the table.” He hissed, and you groaned, obliging and crossing to sit yourself in his lap. He’s warm and secure, and he wraps his arm around you like it’s second nature. “Let’s not make this weird.” He said gently, and you nod.

“As for tomorrow’s shoot,” you said softly, leaning in to make sure no-one else heard, and he nodded, humming softly, “we’re professionals, and,” after a beat you cleared your throat pointedly, “it’s not like we haven’t done it before.”

“Not in front of a camera crew we haven’t.” Ben says with a smirk, and you snicker in agreement. “It’s gonna go fine; this is all gonna go fine, I promise.” And when you raise your eyebrows at him in surprised question, he just laughs softly, and brings you in for a chaste kiss. “It’s only until the DVD’s released.” He assures you, and you let your expression fall, already weary.

“Ben, that’s over a year away.”

[wayward-wayfinder]

“I could really eat something.”

Prompt number: 25

Fandom: All For The Game / The Foxhole

Rating: G

Warnings/Tags: N/A

Now on AO3!

“I could really eat something, you know?”

Andrew looked up from his laptop, brow furrowed before he smoothed his face back into its expressionless norm. He still had six problems left, and only fifteen minutes remaining in which to do them, but he still shut the computer with a sound ‘click’. “That,” he said, “seems like a personal problem, Josten.”

Neil looked at him from over the edge of his bed, Spanish dictionary in one hand while he absent-mindedly twirled a pencil in his other. “It could be your problem, too.”

That was true. Andrew rubbed at his chin, still sore from where Renee had hit him with a precise right hook an hour earlier. He wasn’t particularly hungry himself, but the last time that Neil had gone out alone Andrew had ended up driving in aimless circles looking for him anyway. Neil had the unfortunate habit of shutting down when he was hunting, and it set Andrew’s teeth on edge every time he felt Neil’s presence drop from his sphere of perception.

“One hundred and two, Josten,” He finally said. Neil took it for the resigned acceptance that it was.

The air outside was crisp, the leaves on the trees bright splotches of orange and red, and Neil stretched his arms upwards as his joints popped. Andrew watched before turning his attention to the empty sidewalk. It was late November, most students hurrying towards the warmth of their dorms rather than sticking around on campus in the cold. Andrew was fine with that. It was a messy business, when there were more witnesses around.

“Any ideas?”

Neil hummed softly, tilting his head carefully to the side while he thought. “There’s always the bars.”

Andrew nodded, and let Neil lead the way downtown. It wasn’t a far walk, and he could already hear the music from Fox Tower.

People were already crowded outside the bars, laughing loudly while bouncers unenthusiastically carded the already-drunk patrons. Andrew hated to admit it, but Neil had the right idea; it would be easier to eat here than anywhere else. Everyone was too drunk to care, and it was easy to find people passed out in the alleyways beside the bars while the police presence was almost non-existent. It helped that it was close to Fox Tower if they needed to escape.

Neil flicked out his fake ID for the bouncer, looking bored as the man assessed the card and then Neil’s face, before silently handing it back and waving him and Andrew in without so much as a second glance. Another thing that Andrew hated to admit was that sometimes, being on the exy team had its perks. Not that he would ever admit that to Dan, lest she began to think that he was actually enjoying it. 

Andrew took a seat at the bar, elbows out to keep others from pressing too close against him as Neil disappeared into the crowd, disarming smile already plastered on his face. Andrew lifted a finger lazily, and turned his attention to the rest of the bar when the bartender nodded her acknowledgement. It looked to be mainly the younger students, probably pushing off their exams and studying, and Andrew rolled his eyes when he saw the group that Neil had slid into; the girls looked shell-shocked, glancing at each other before one one timidly asked Neil something.

Andrew drained his glass as the bartender slid it over, purposefully ignoring the look that Neil sent him as he signed a slip of paper for the girls, looking vaguely uncomfortable. It’s what he deserved, for not noticing the exy league patch that one of the girls had on her jean jacket; Neil still wasn’t used to the attention that he got from some of the Foxes’s fans.

The bar was steadily becoming packed, people jamming in from all sides to order at the bar as the servers stopped doing table service, and Andrew was rapidly becoming irritated. He raised two fingers for his check, and sent Neil a text as he made his way towards the exit after paying, not paying attention to the angry stares he received as he shouldered people out of his way. Outside. Hurry up.

Neil showed up ten minutes later, just as Andrew was finishing his cigarette. Andrew shot him a look, and Neil raised a had to wipe blood from the corner of his mouth, at least having the decency to look sheepish. “They were too drunk so the persuasion didn’t work properly,” he said by way of explanation, “So it was kind of hard to get him outside.”

“Did you just leave him there?”

Neil looked irritated that Andrew had even asked. “Of course not,” he said. “That would have looked bad, since his friends saw him walk off with me. I brought him back to the group and said that he had gotten sick on the way to the bathroom.”

Andrew nodded, then stubbed out his cigarette in the sand holder by the doors, starting to make his way down the sidewalk. “Let’s go then, if you’re done.”

[cyl2-moved]

alright so i didn’t really agree with what tier lists were saying about certain fgo servants so i made my own one ! you’re welcome to disagree, of course, but this is what i think should make up the fgo five star tier list

S: makes any team better, 100% desirable, meta breaking

A: well built and capable of carrying a team

B: good team addition and plays well/good for one specific purpose

C: ok tier, they’re just fine tbh, deservant of 5 star status but on thin ice

D: straight up should’ve been a 4 star

EX: servants that i’ve heard of only in legend

*note: this is for the na server as of january 2019, i could honestly give less of a shit about jp

**note: berserkers gain a bit of fluidity because their one purpose is to kill and any zerk that can do that is good (< that’s all zerks btw)

***note: all 5 stars are worth levelling up, they’re all really good. don’t burn them please

****note: i don’t claim to know everything about fgo, this list isn’t the gospel

S TIER:

MERLIN (caster): ok y’all saw this one coming but basically merlin is fucking amazing. he can really fit on any team set up he wants to and he’s a prime example of what a good caster should be. i don’t think i need to explain this entry. moving on.

JEANNE D’ARC ALTER (avenger): jalter is probably the best buster based servant you can summon in the na server right now and was a complete powerhouse until merlin showed up. if you want a reliable servant that can do just about anything without fail i suggest her if you ever get lucky enough to summon her

FIRST HASSAN (assassin): normally gramps isn’t listed with these two, but if you’ve ever used him chances are you can atleast somewhat see where i’m coming from here. this man is a BEAST, his singularity track record should be proof of that (y’know, because he stole the show in a whole ass two of them). he can’t fit into any team like the first two but he can destroy like nobody’s fucking business. summon him if you get the chance

A TIER:

MIYAMOTO MUSASHI (saber): musashi is a saber focused in single target buster damage, and her skills and np allow her to go above with this focus. at the moment i’d say she’s probably the best saber available because her np, skills, and deck match so well. \

NERO BRIDE (saber): i forgot her and i’m only just now adding her in so whoops but basically she’s one of the only arts sabers that’s actually good and has a good and spammable np.

GILGAMESH (archer): he’s an anti army buster focus who has a noble phantasm that only six servants in the game so far aren’t weak to. he’s kind of a lancer pincushion but just don’t send him out into battles with lancers. there you go.

ISHTAR (archer): ishtar doesn’t have the same np effect as gil but other than that she’s a fairly good replacement for him, not to mention she has a slightly higher hp value than him

BRYNHILDR (lancer): brynhildr would probably be lower on this list if it weren’t for her sparse availability and trait that affects most male and some female servants in the game. she’s probably the best lancer in the game because of those two reasons, but all lancers are safe bets tbh

OZYMANDIAS (rider): ozymandias is amazing at spamming buster cards and has a particularly great np, great for boss battles. also he’s hot

QUETZALCOATL (rider): basically the same as ozy here except with a more specifically buster deck. also she’s hot

ZHUGE LIANG (caster): a lot of people categorize him with merlin and to those people i have to ask: have you ever played this game? waver comes close, but don’t act like people didn’t throw him to the side the exact moment merlin came out. open your eyes you absolute fools

XUANZANG SANZANG (caster): this one has a twinge of personal bias but seeing as she’s a caster but has the highest atk of all of my servants atm. also she’s hot, but she’s one of the only casters in the game right now that’s somewhat buster based and can make a buster brave chain which her np (which is kinda rare for casters). she can fit into really any team composition without too much issue and has a rather high survivability rate

JACK THE RIPPER (assassin): contrary to brynhildr, jack got higher on this list almost specifically because of her availability. she’s a really good assassin that’s rather easy to get (well, considering she’s a five star). the one bane i can think of is that she’s not very team compatible, but she’ll do just fine regardless. get her going with quick chains and she will absolutely obliterate

CU CHULAINN ALTER (berserker): just wanna start out by saying he’s still one of the most powerful berserkers in the jp server. AND he’s easily available. do i really fucking have to say anything else? (protection from arrows lol)

MINAMOTO NO RAIKOU (berserker): mom’s deck is set up a bit differently from other berserkers’, having more arts and quick card than most of them. does that stop her from utterly obliterating everything in her path? nope, not at all, in fact, it only helps. her quick and arts card charge her buster np, which is a wave clear that RAINS crit stars, that only help her kill more later. conclusion: she’s an absolute goddess

JEANNE D’ARC (ruler): jeanne d’arc only really made it to this part of the list because you can get her really easily and she’s absolutely amazing on arts stall teams. as well and good as this is, though, she only really reaches her good points in her final ascension and is kind of hard to use before this. i wouldn’t suggest using her if you’re a starter player, heads up

B TIER:

OKITA SOUJI (saber): okita was placed lower on this list than i’d like her to be but because of her quick based status i kinda had to. there’s going to be a lot of this going on especially later in the list, but quick servants don’t see the light of day until skadi comes around, which is going to be mid 2020 for us na players unless fgo gets destroyed before then. the only servant that really got away with the quick niche was jack because she’s self sustaining if she needs to be, but okita’s deck doesn’t really let her do that. despite this, okita’s still amazing, and i highly suggest rolling for her

ARTORIA ARCHER (archer): summer artoria serves as an amazing arts archer that does wonders with her single target arts np that brings up her np gauge up almost immediately after it’s done, meaning you can spam her np whenever. she’s pretty great for arts team and not very versatile elsewhere, but you’re in for a treat when you use her

SCATHACH (lancer): OF COURSE scathach was going to be fairly high on this list, she’s one of the best lancers to date. her quick deck brought her down a bit here, but she’s a reliable servant that can fit into any team composition with little issue and has a powerful np. what else could you want

ARTORIA LANCER (lancer): honestly lartoria is high on the list for flexing and little else, but she serves as a powerful buster servant that has a pretty good wave clear np. the rest of the reason she’s up here is personal bias and i’m not scared to admit that, also she’s on a horse

TAMAMO LANCER (lancer): lanmamo is a kinda surprising servant tbh, she doubles in buster and quick and does amazing in both and has an especially high hp stat, something i wouldn’t expect from a quick/buster decked servant. honestly, you really can’t go wrong with summer servants tbh, they’re all really good

QUEEN MEDB (rider): i’m SICK of people shitting on medb. she’s fucking great. she’s a buster main that’s a crit star sponge and has a fairly good single target np. bring her into a caster boss battle and she will fuck the life out of the opponent, i guarantee it

TAMAMO NO MAE (caster): mikon is an amazing caster who sadly doesn’t really hold up to those in the higher tiers, but has skills that work great for any team and is practically the god of any arts stall team you ever might think of making. also she’s hot

LEONARDO DA VINCI (caster): da vinci doesn’t really hold up to tamamo, but i still think she deserves a spot in this tier. she has a pretty varied deck that can fit in with really any team and has a pretty powerful wave clear np. she’s a great caster, no doubt, but in a point in time when this game is practically dominated by merlin, she really doesn’t hold up as much as the others

CLEOPATRA (assassin): cleo is an exceptionally good buster based assassin with an anti army np which is really effective. she makes for a fairly good farming servant and can hold out for a while in boss battles as well

SAKATA KINTOKI (berserker): sakata has gotten strangely a bad rep from the fandom but is overhyped by the game, which is weird to me, but whatever. he’s probably the most powerful berserker atk wise, but can only really survive for three turns before dying no matter what you do. as far as servants go, he’s not as good as the game hypes him up to be and he’s not as bad as the fanbase makes him out to be.

AMAKUSA SHIROU (ruler): amakusa really only got up here because he’s one of the only four extra class five stars in the game right now, and as a servant he’s okay. he’d be a lot worse if he were a normal unit that had a class disadvantage that was common, but since he’s practically untouchable as a ruler he gets a spot up here

C TIER:

ARTORIA (saber): artoria has a rather bad reputation among tier lists because of her basic deck, basic np, shit skills … but her blandness only makes her increasingly compatible with other team setups. you can really stick her anywhere and she’ll do fine, and if she’s set up right she can become a really good servant. y’all are just lazy and mean

MORDRED (saber): mordred got kind of the same treatment as her dad but with more buster and slightly better skills, so if this tier list had a lot more specific tiers mordred would probably be above her. however, this isn’t, i’m too lazy for that. mordred is really just a slightly more atk based artoria

ARJUNA (archer): arjuna’s good, no doubt, but his competition out of the five star archer pool is hard to match up with. he’s definitely the best archer in the story mode gacha, but as an arts archer that can’t spam his np as artoria archer, he’s a bit dead in the water

ORION (archer): orion has the same problems as arjuna but with an added fuck you because of that extra quick card. if you have her i hope you have fun beating the absolute shit out of gawain

KARNA (lancer): karna’s an amazing buster servant, but the lancer pool is just really fucking good. he excels in buster but got that quick fuck you just like orion. i don’t really have much to say tbh, he’s good

ENKIDU (lancer): enkidu excels in quicks and didn’t pussy out like orion and karna, and if this were the non-merlin era he’d be higher on this list. sadly, since arts is dominating, he’ll have to wait a bit, but soon ...

FRANCIS DRAKE (rider): i really like francis, i do, but compared to the other riders she’s really just a farming servant. she can be a good main rider if you really want her to be but her np is almost made for farming. her np is the exact example of a farming np. next

ILLYA VON EINZBERN (caster): news flash but she’s not really as good as everyone hyped her up to be. she has a bit of a confusing deck (why does she have one buster card but a buster np!?!) and no clear niche so like … is her fame only because of that anime she’s in or what. chloe’s better

SHUTEN DOUJI (assassin): shuten has an arts based deck that doesn’t really fit her as an assassin and doesn’t have a very powerful np but otherwise is a good and reliable servant. She can just about survive anything and has been the cause of many of my clutches. thanks shuten

VLAD III (berserker): vlad excels in arts teams and is an amazing arts unit, but he would’ve shined if he was released later. because he was the first five star berserker released and non limited (unlike sakata) he defied a standard for berserkers before berserker standards were even set, and it didn’t come out well

FLORENCE NIGHTINGALE (berserker): florence honestly would’ve been better if she wasn’t released at the same time as cu alter, who’s a goddamn beast, and if her concept wasn’t so mismatched. her deck and skillset is kinda weirdly put together and doesn’t flow as well as raikou’s. she’s wasted potential, really.

D TIER:

ALTERA (saber): honestly i think people hype up altera too much, she’s good but could easily be replaced by a four star imo. at her best she’s just an artoria remake sorry

NIKOLA TESLA (archer): his deck and skill set and np are fine? he just really doesn’t have a proper use. he fits into any team but in a way in which that team has to kinda carry him and he’s ugly. that’s all

MYSTERIOUS HEROINE X (assassin): mhx is a good assassin, especially since there are only a few you can really choose from, but she’s more of a trophy than anything. it’s cool to have her, and again, she’s fine, but she doesn’t really match up to the other assassins in the game, especially jack, who’s more easily accessible and self sufficient. also it doesn’t make sense why she’s an assassin if she’s a saber killer (just be an archer!!!!) but w/e

EDMOND DANTES (avenger): let me explain first. please. ok, so edmond is good by most standards, especially because he’s an extra class which means he’s basically untouchable by most everyone except for bb when she rears her ugly head in may. but what sucks about him is that he was released as sort of a avengers test before jalter? idk how to really explain it, but he’s significantly worse than jalter because they wanted to see how an avenger would hold up. not only does he not hold up to the only servant in his class by a long shot, he has the quick curse and looks exactly the fuck like komaeda. he really took that l

EX TIER:

RYOUJI SHIKI (saber): fgo seems to really like her but the fanbase seems to think she;s ok at best but i’ve never seen her ever in supports in my nine months of playing this game. does she even really exist? idk. her character desc says you’re likely to never see her and i’m starting to think that’s true

ISKANDER (rider): alright i KNOW you exist and everyone loves you but i’ve never seen you either. what the ufck. where are you

anyways that’s it this took way longer than it should’ve i’m going to bed

[heavyonthecost]

fatamoru snippets dump #3

Partly Erasmus/7C, partly Reincarnation spoilers. (Still all Yukipauline, because goddammit this trainwreck of a pairing has eaten my brain.)

(#1, #2)

(content notes: spoilers for Mujou no Erasmus, Seventh Coat, and Reincarnation. Also last one’s kinda violent.)

(Prompt: GRADUALLY WATERMELON, 100 words, based on Mujou no Erasmus. If anyone’s wondering about the spelling of his name, it’s because it’s supposedly short for the Dutch word for ‘little rabbit’ (konintje))

I can handle the texture for just one slice, Nijn thought when Pauline first offered him a slice.

I prefer cantaloupes, he thought when she brought more the next day.

If she wants me to, he thought as he went through a whole plate she brought him.

And now, his father’s cutting up a whole watermelon for them.

“You like watermelons, right, Nijn? You two have been eating a lot of them lately.”

Nijntje isn’t his actual name, and he doesn’t like watermelons, but if she says so, he has to make it so. For his family.

“Yes, I do.”

(Prompt: keeping secrets,400 words, based on Seventh Coat)

In the darkness and silence of her apartment, she sat in front of him, staring straight at him. Just a few days ago, she wouldn’t have thought that she’d be helping a serial killer hide from justice, and in a way none of it felt real, still - the person in front of her is undoubtedly her childhood friend, the same person she’d come to love, and the whole time, a part of her was hoping that he’d reveal that all of it was just a prank, that he hadn’t actually committed all those murders. But every time she tried to make a joke about it, he only stared back at her in silence, never saying that yes, he was lying, leaving her to awkwardly laugh it off while looking anywhere except at him.

So maybe, it was time to stop denying it.

”What did you feel when you killed all those people?”

She could see his eyebrows rising. “Why do you ask?”

“Well…” ‘Because I couldn’t think of anything else to talk about’ didn’t seem like it’d cut it. “You’ve admitted what you’ve been doing to me anyway, it wouldn’t hurt to also know about that, right?”

“It would. People like you aren’t supposed to get it.”

“But I want to understand you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

And on his face was the same pained expression from the first night she offered to hide him, when she confessed her feelings to him despite what he’d admitted. In a way, it filled her with relief - that he seemed guilty about letting her fall for the fake persona he cultivated surely meant that some part of him was still capable of caring about others.

She dragged her chair forward. She was scared, too, of what his answer would be - of whatever force there is that would drive someone to commit such atrocities. Yet she still felt drawn to him, which she probably shouldn’t, but if it were that easy to make herself stop caring about him, she’d have done it right after he confessed all his wrongdoings.

“I’ve gotten myself this deep in now, we’re basically in this together now.”

“That’s not -”

She jutted forward, her face barely inches from his, not giving him a chance to continue his protests. Her hands were shaking but she had to, wanted to know. “Let’s not hide anything from each other anymore, shall we?”

(Prompt: something fluffy, 500 words, based on Seventh Coat)

“Good morning, Pauline.”

Rubbing her eyes, Pauline surveyed the dimness of her apartment, barely lit by the thin rays of sunlight filtering through the almost fully-closed blinds. Near the dining table was the person greeting her just now, the very reason her apartment was so closed-off. And on the table -

“What are you doing?” She only just managed to suppress her voice from a shout to a whisper.

“I made breakfast.”

“I can see that.” On the table was a plate with a few pieces of pancakes, topped with honey and fruits - she remembered having a little left of those in the fridge. “But didn’t we agree not to do anything unnecessary -”

“I made sure the blinds were open as little as possible. Anyone who hears anything would just think that it’s you.” After a pause, “I thought I should do something for you in return.”

Do something in return. If she had simply been letting him stay at her place as a guest, it’d have been nothing out of the ordinary. She would be able to cheerfully thank him for it, coo at how neatly he had arranged the food, mention how excited she was to be eating his cooking again. Not so much when he was also wanted for multiple counts of murder.

There are other things I’d rather you do for me instead, she thought. She was past doubting this man’s admission of his actions, but maybe he could tell her that he was just an impostor, the real Yukimasa was somewhere out there, still his old slightly aloof but not unkind self that she’d always known, not some cold-blooded killer -

Even as her mind spun up unreasonable wishes, she sat down at the table and grabbed the utensils laid out. At least, she didn’t want to waste the food. Her fork sunk right into the stack, and her knife cut through it just as easily.

She brought a piece to her mouth, chewing through the soft, fluffy texture. It was good. She wanted to savour it, but her mind went back to the hands that had created it, the same hands behind those gruesome images plastered all over the news -

“Pauline?”

She had stabbed the table with her fork, and he had rushed to her side, concern audible in his voice. She wanted to scream, ask him why couldn’t he have spared the same amount of concern for those other people, why couldn’t he have simply not killed them so she could just enjoy being with him like this - and she immediately hated herself for coming up with such selfish reasons for condemning him.

“...I need a moment.”

She continued hanging her head, panting heavily despite only sitting still, until she could hear him shuffling away into her room. She didn’t particularly had any more appetite, but she still cut off misshapen pieces from the pancakes and stuffed her mouth full of those soft, sweet chunks, pretending that was why it was getting hard to breathe.

(Prompt: nightmares, 100 words)

Before, his dreams were the only place  where Yukimasa could fully indulge his desires, but now, even those dreams brought him distress. He wasn’t supposed to kill anyone else, he promised she’d be his first and last -

He jolted up, breathless, and next to him, Pauline also stirred awake.

“Those dreams again?”

His hand brushed her neck, still so slender and fragile, and the caresses changed into a light grip.

“Are you going to kill me now?”

Her voice, soft and calm, brought him back to their idyllic days together, and he replaced his hand with a kiss.

“Not yet.”

(Prompt: unrequited love, 100 words)

Sometimes, Pauline missed the way Yukimasa used to smile gently at her, whispering sweet nothings. But she’d recall that it was all an act - he had never loved her the way she loved him, and likely never would.

She regretted none of her decisions. He no longer hid anything from her, and she no longer turned a blind eye to the truth. She still got to stay by him, more important than anyone else to him, anchoring him to the more benevolent of his desires.

It was a chain that bound her. But it was one she chose for herself.

(Prompt: your id, 600 words. Contains knifing and blood-licking.)

When he came in carrying a knife, she knew it was finally time. Sooner than she expected, perhaps, but she had agreed to this arrangement prepared for it to end at any time. She said nothing as he lifted her shirt and put the knife against her stomach. The sting from the edge cutting in morphed into a sharper pain when he swiped the knife across her skin, and she reflexively let out a short shriek. He drew the knife across her stomach again, this time drawing a groan from her, and she could see a glimpse of that smile she saw through her hazy consciousness on that day he choked her.

It hurt. Of course it did. But she was the one who agreed to be the target of his urges should they become uncontrollable for him. And perhaps she wasn’t supposed to think this way, but it wasn’t a bad feeling, seeing him be able to do what truly pleased him - even if it involved spilling her blood.

She felt the tip of the blade lodged into another patch of skin on her torso and winced as he twisted the blade, gradually screaming as she became unable to hold back her voice. Twisting the knife back to its original position, he raised it up high and she closed her eyes, waiting for it to sink into her flesh. But it never came - instead, it was his lips pressed onto the first cut he created, and she hissed from the sting brought by his tongue running over the wound.

Done lapping up her blood, he wiped off his mouth and looked down at her body. She supposed he wanted to savour every bit of it, taking his time shedding her blood before he finally killed her - it was to be his first and last murder, after all. But he hadn’t retrieved his knife yet, still hovering over her with his breathing as rough as hers. “Pauline,” he said, his face right above hers, “I think I’m in love with you.”

Her eyes widened at the words that she didn’t expect to hear any more since she asked him to stop pretending in front of her. “Aren’t you just excited to see the blood?”

His eyes scanned her wounds again. “It feels different from the last time I beat up someone until they bleed.”

“Maybe you just forgot because it’s been so long since you’ve seen this much of someone else’s blood.”

He bent down and kissed her, the taste of her own blood still faintly in his mouth, and his hand crept across her stomach, sending shivers and jolts of pain all over her body as his fingers traced the wounds.

“I never thought of wanting to do this with anyone I used to beat up.”

She wasn’t sure what to feel - happiness that her feelings were finally requited? Sadness that it couldn’t have happened sooner? Confusion, because why now after all this time? So she just laughed. “What are you doing, falling for me now? Can you really kill me when you’re like that?”

He went silent, his expression as blank as usual. Then, “Wait here.” He got up to leave the room, and when he came back, he held a first aid box in his hands.

“Wait - so you seriously can’t kill me anymore? Are you going to be fine? You know I’m not letting you kill anyone else, right?”

“I’m just delaying it,” he said as he unpacked the contents of the box. “I know I said that I’ll only touch you when it’s time to end everything, but… right now, all I can think of is that if I kill you now, I can’t see you bleeding like this again.”

“Eh...”

Focusing on cleaning her wounds, he said, “If your offer of hurting you in the meanwhile still stands… I’ll take you up on it.”

Through the stinging pain, she managed a wide smile. “You finally took up one of my suggestions!”

He frowned. “Is it something to be so happy about? You really are a strange woman.”

Her smile didn’t waver. “I wouldn’t be in love with such a strange man if I weren’t.”

[audible--silence]

Words from the north - the whole unedited note from my phone

//

Words from the north

Watching the sunset over the Cape range tunes. A light yellow through to dark blue gradient swings through the sky with a string of Aqua running down the centre a single star sits above as a full moon shines lightening up the town of Exmouth after a day spent in the sun in the sand

-

I am convinced the only difference between the average joe and a poet is one pays attention to life, understands the dictionary and writes things down

-

From the one day the conditions called for hoodies and cameras rather than wetsuits and surfboards

-

Smelling like mosquito spray, salt water and sweat is a way of life

-

Surf forecast up here looks like sitting in SoSo looking out the window staring at a palm tree to figure out what the wind is doing and asking ya mates that walk in the door “hows the surf?”

-

You know you’re doing something right when you start feeling guilty for all the fun you’re having

-

And I would’ve gotten away with it too if it wasn’t for you meddling kooks

-

From that one time we thought itd be a good time to be homeless together for a week. By the end of it we were somewhere between brothers, lovers and mortal enemies all at once

#fucktony

#whothefuckistony

-

Sea’s of red dirt and shrubs for hours and hours and hours on end

-

Karijini

The sound of birds chirping, the wind rustling through the tall grass and the camp fire crackling away as the sun hides away behind the towering mountains im front of us. Shades of purple, red and yellow take over from the normal red, green and blue that make up the scene. I relax into a camp chair as twilight starts to take over. Indi is editing photos while Noems takes charge of dinner. Despite many attempts at offering help, we were both benched from kitchen duties. Another day of adventure comes to a close and the contentment sets in alongside the anticipation of what tomorrow may hold

-

Worth the wakeup knock on the car at 4am in the freezing cold

Worth the bitter windchills knocking our balance on the slippery rocky path up in the dark

Worth racing the sun to the top of the mountain

Worth choosing between having my fingers warm or my camera in my hand

Worth struggling to see by the light of a phone torch

Worth not feeling my fingers for two hours

Worth it for the golden yellow and blue light peeling over the horizon

Worth it for the feeling of being awake and alive before the sun is up

Worth it for the view of the cliffs side

Worth it for seeing the wind blasting trees

Worth it for the view from the top

Worth it for the oranges on the way down

Worth it for the tunes and singalongs

Worth it for the smoked salmon croissants

Worth it for the snacks and the beers in the carpark

-

But first, let me check my engine oil 🤙

-

You can tell where all our money went when you look at us, none of it went into shoes

-

At a fucked up level though thats just evolution. The strongest survive (colonialism)

-

“But what are ya gonna do with that information though? Just make your own meaning and chase that” (on the topic of the meaning of life)

-

The ritual of fires every evening after a days adventure and then every morning to boil the water for our coffee before we go again

-

The grit that came off my skin

The knots that became of my hair

The red dust that washed off me as I stepped into the first bit of hot water id felt in what felt like a very long time

The black under my finger nails

The red and yellow stains on my hands that the soap didnt wash off.

The holes in my shorts, tshirts and sweater

The red stains on my towel after drying my face

The rash on my face after shaving

-

Tilting your head back in ya camp chair to escape the heat of the roaring campfire and getting a glimpse at the sky absolutely glowing with stars was a constant reminder of how fucking good we’d got it

-

And you say sheeeeeesh

nice garyyyy

-

“Oi dad, what are ya doin?”

“25 ak47’s and a piece of plywood, thats what im doin”

-

Im in full travel mode now. All i think about is whens my next meal, when do i have work and hows the surf. Also wheres my weed.”

-

This post brought to you by…

-

All my friends do lots of drugs

-

“Ya livin the dream ya lucky shit” - taes dad, post

surf

-

An observation about all the people you see on social media who you idolize in some capacity: when you meet them in real life, no matter how much idolization or importance you think they carry, when you meet them in person, they all still behave like normal people

-

I’ve completely left behind my old way of life.

I’ve forgotten what its like to go to a bar.

To dress cool.

To think about what im wearing.

To think about impressing people.

To think about who to see.

To think about what event to choose from.

I’ve forgotten what its like to look up at tall buildings.

To see lots of concrete.

To walk past unfamiliar faces that dont smile when you walk past them.

To order coffee in a takeaway cup.

To eat nice food.

To see my friends at pica bar for drinks at the last minute plan

-

There came a time about two months in where i began to get over it all.

Doing dishes with a water bottle and a tea towel that smelt like smoke. Sitting in the drivers seat on your phone, tired because you dont want to have to brush your teeth with a water bottle and climb like a contortionist into your car’s bed every night. Sick of having to plan when i want to take a shit. Sick of having to set up and pack down my kitchen every time i want a coffee or some lunch.

Sick of not having anywhere to be but knowing im in one of the most beautiful places in the world and feeling a burning pressure to see it all. Sick of having to buy ice every two days

Sick of emptying water from my esky

Sick of laundromats and planning how long I’ll last on a single outfit

Sick of worrying if im spending too much time sitting in the cafe

Sick of being the tag along in everybody else’s group of mates

Sick of drinking beer every shift

-

As time goes by, you learn the intricacies of a place. Where all the rocks are on the track to the camp. Who in the carpark not to wave at and who to have a chat to. Where and when to be to get a free drink. How to steal a shower. When

-

More and more i find while living out of my car thst routine is important. Something to ground you. For me, its making coffee out of the car, no matter how inconvenient it is. Before inevitably giving up and buying an oat flatty at soso. - talk more about habits

-

Some things that dont grow old:

Seeing the surf going off

Seeing familiar faces out and about

Turtles next to you in the water

Whales breaching in the distance

The moon rising over the ocean or the ranges

The sky full of stars when the moon doesn’t shine

The sun and the warmth no matter the season

Town beach hangs with good crew

The feeling of a shower after a few days of salt water

The people at work

The chats at work

Free beer at work

The life in the oceans

The vibe of fun

Never knowing where you’re gonna end up after you wake up

-

Whatd you see when you nearly died?

A big pair of tittys and a snickers bar

-

The moon rises in front of me for the third night in a row. I watch it from my car, a leftover slice of pizza from work in one hand and my phone in the other. Im one of the very few people lucky enough to witness this insanely beautiful sight and yet it feels in this moment it feels unextraordinary. How spoilt with wonder must you be for this to feel normal. The same goes for this whole place. This is paradise and right now this is home. This is standard. Only when I get back to Perth and am able to look back with the 20/20 vision that is hindsight and realize just how special it all was.

-

I wish I was more conscious at the hour of 6am, snug in my bed, parked in the bush as the sun rises over the bay in front of me. An explosion of pink and gold dominates the sky, shining through the bushes and the trees around me. The sound of the waves crashing behind the birds chirping. An easterly wind rustles lightly through the trees. I’m so sure it’s beautiful. If only I was awake to take it all in.

Instead, i roll over and try and escape the golden light for a minute or two more.

-

Hey siri play lots of nothing by spacey jane

-

Sometimes Id like not to feel like a fugitive when i take a shower, other times, the stars as my landlord is a pretty good deal

-

Its not a mistake its a decision

-

Maker of questionable decisions

-

I dont wanna face this day for fear of what will come. For I know how good it can be, and I know the fuckery that this day holds

-

Holy fuck thats a lot of cars

Yeah its cos nobody fuckin lives anywhere

-

To be fair I’d stalk you

-

A happy change of plans

Like all good road trips, this one started out with unfortunate circumstance, poor planning and a significant lack of caution. We planned for months to leave WA and drive across the nullabor, up through NSW and into QLD and at the 11th hour, three days before we were due to leave, we find out that covid has closed the borders. Again.

So with a house I had already moved out of, a plan in shambles on behalf of a big bad virus, and a car all prepped and ready to leave, we did the only reasonable thing to do. Changed course by a few thousand km’s and headed north with no idea what we would do, where we would sleep, what we would eat, where we would stay, who we would hang with and where we would surf.

Our first day saw lots of last minute preparations, plenty of driving to all manner of songs and podcasts from everything to the worlds dumbest grifters to Australian alcoholics talking about orgasms. I shut the door on 25 Chatham Road for the last time. We drove through familiar and unfamiliar roads. Memories of standing on the side of these very roads ripe in my mind. Except this time, with my whole life in the backseat of the car, in a setup Reubs and I built. Hell of an upgrade from a backpack and a thumb. After hours of rolling green hills, that resembled what I imagine new zealand to look like we parked up on the side of the road. Very true to form. We set up the tent, brushed our teeth and had dinner in the form of a banana and a beer and then got to bed as the sun set. I woke up at 25 Chatham and now I find myself falling asleep somewhere between Northampton and Kalbarri in my car.

-

“Traveling is just tetris on wheels mate”

-

No matter how far away you travel to try and escape modern society, if you look up at night, you will still see a satellite and you will be reminded that no matter where you go, you are a member of a species that can get itself to space

-

Shit i like:

Squeezing kenny

Cooking in car parks

Paying for wifi and toilets with beer or hot chocolates

Surfing. All day

Chatting shit

Brownies

Staring at the stars

Dunes

Eating brownies, chatting shit and staring at the stars under the shade at dunes.

Hunters

Making new friends everywhere

Chatting to literally everyone

Having nowhere to be and never thinking about home

Telling Tony to get fucked

Surfing bombie and paddling back in twilight glassy waters

Dinners and laughs with friends in the whalebone carpark

Breaking into RAC for a shower

Coffee dates at soso

Waking up to ben packing a tent

Laughing till my ribs hurt

Tonic water with lime

No internet for weeks

Chatting to esther and alice at dunes

Staring at groms wiping out

Carpark hangs

Never having an empty passenger seat

Never being able to see out the rear view mirror

Never being alone

Cooking in the carpark opposite the cop shop

Drying shit on the car every time we parked

Listening to lots of nothing a million times

Chaos at froth consisting of surprise drinks, random chats and boats

-

And the curtain closes.

On two months and nine days of nonstop adventure and fun. Unpredictable, unprecedented fun. The people you met were of a caliber I’d not encountered and never considered to be my own but from the get go and proved time and time again over the course of my time up north, they were.

I dont know how I’m going to fare when I get off this plane in two hours and have to see my parents, exist in cold weather, deal with a broken car, find a place to call home, figure out a new job and find my way with my friends who I can never be the same with after this.

The wheels are up. Fleeting views of the ningaloo coast and the cape range out each side of the planes window; a farewell of what I’m going to be missing. The red dirt and wildflowers underneath us where I’ve spent most of my nights sleeping look exactly as they always are. Untouched and still. I know I’ll be back soon. I’ve got so much more to see. So many more people left to meet. So many more memories left to make. So many more waves left to surf. So many more beers left to pour. So many more sunsets left to see.

Exmouth, for two months you sure have changed me.

-

Tiger,

I dont know your history brother but if i had to take a look into your past im guessing id see a lot of pain, chaos, missing love and bad mates who dont know that they’re bad.

You’re a good dude man im so fuckin sure of it but you seem so hell bent on starting a fight and proving a point. To whom i dont know. Your break up has obviously destroyed you and your coping mechanism is alcohol and trying to get with women. You’re incredibly kind and generous to your friends and a fierce antagonist to anyone who isn’t. You need help and you know it but you dont know how to find it or who to ask.

The hardest thing about you is that you need to change your whole view of life. Theres more than you think to it. I know there’s someone in there waiting to be found. I wanna be the guy holding the torch while you search.

You’re a good guy,

I dont wanna see you get killed by some drunk in a fight or waste yourself away in a bottle and a job you hate because you didn’t know there was another option.