#listen it's an easy car repair

[brenna]

the vibe for june 18th is doing it for myself. changed out my own battery (even though it was both raining and a heatwave), brushed and clipped the cats' claws, made dinner, did dishes, then wrote. amazing what you do when you take a day off work.

[steddiehyperfixation]

steve harrington's phone number

@steddiebingo prompt: van | 1.7k words | rated T

“Stupid- useless piece of shit!” Eddie barely manages to pull his coughing, spluttering van over to the side of the road before it chokes to a stop with a dying wheeze. “Fucking drama queen.” He gets out and gives the side of the van a good kick, chastizing it for its very loud and inconvenient death. 

Just his luck it would decide to break down here, on a nothing stretch of road several miles outside of town. Too far to walk but not all that long of a drive if his stupid car could’ve just toughed it out a little while longer. “You really couldn’t have held on for like ten more minutes?” he grumbles, kicking the van again. The van, of course, does not answer and remains quite dead. Eddie mutters a few more curses and pulls his jacket tighter around himself against the late November chill as he wanders around to the front of the car to pop the hood. 

It’s an entirely useless gesture, popping the hood. Even before he opens it he knows he’s still not going to have a single clue what’s broken or how to fix it. The inner workings of a car are utterly foreign to him, an alien language of metal and grease that he stupidly never cared to learn. He stares blankly at the incomprehensible jumble of machinery before him, cursing himself for all those times he’d evaded and complained his way out of Wayne’s attempts to teach him how to do his own auto repairs. His uncle’s boring handyman lessons would’ve really come in handy right now, if only he’d had the foresight to listen. 

With a huffed out sigh, Eddie slams the hood back down. He’s going to have to call someone.

Thankfully he can see a roadside payphone not too far off in the distance, about half a mile out maybe. He rummages through his pockets and paws around the front seat of the van for any spare change he could use. He’d just blown through most of the money he had on him at a record store in Indy, but he manages to scrounge up enough coins for one call. Just one. So he has to choose wisely. He starts his trudge to the payphone while he runs through a mental list of options, feeling increasingly frustrated and hopeless as he crosses each of them off one by one. 

A tow truck is too expensive. His uncle is at work. Half his friends can’t drive, and not a single one of them knows anything about cars anyways so they wouldn’t be much help beyond a ride home (and he’d really rather not have to just leave his van on the side of the road). He needs someone who’s free, can drive, and has enough of a working knowledge of cars to possibly be able to give his van enough of a second wind to make it home. 

Which is how he finds himself in a dingy little phone booth punching in Steve Harrington’s number - a number he’s never called before yet somehow memorized, recalling it clearly in his mind’s eye in the scrawl of Steve’s handwriting on notebook paper. 

“Harrington residence, Steve speaking,” Steve’s voice comes through the line, automatic and rehearsed.

“Okay, I’ll make fun of that weirdly formal greeting later,” Eddie decides, “but right now, uh- man, I really hate to do this, but do you happen to know anything about fixing cars?”

“Eddie, hey,” Steve sounds almost startled to hear from him. “Um, yeah, I mean, I’m no expert or anything, but I know enough to get by. Why?” 

“My van just broke down on my way back from the city and I was hoping you might be willing to do me a huge huge favor and come out here and see if you can help me get her started again.” Eddie puts all the desperation he can into his voice, which really isn’t hard. His distress is 100% genuine. “Please? I’m desperate here, Harrington. I’d be forever in your debt, I’ll-” 

“Okay,” Steve says before Eddie can start bargaining. So simply, so easily. He really wasn’t expecting it to be that easy.

“Okay?” 

“Yeah, okay. I’ll help you. Where are you?”  

Eddie breathes a sigh of relief. “Oh thank god- thank you. Thank you thank you thank you. I owe you my life, seriously-” 

“Munson,” Steve cuts him off again, repeating his question, “where are you?” 

“Right, yeah.” Eddie gives his best approximation of where he is and Steve promises to be there as soon as he can before hanging up. Feeling a little bit lighter now, Eddie treks back to wait by his van.

The sun has just dipped below the horizon, streaking the sky with pink and gold, when Steve’s BMW pulls up and he steps out of the car bathed in the orange glow of sunset, looking every bit the rescuing angel. A dashing hero straight out of a fairytale; Eddie can almost picture him with a sword in his hands instead of a toolbox, a noble steed behind him instead of a car. 

He expresses only a satirized version of that sentiment, clasping his hands over his heart and gasping theatrically in greeting, “Harrington, my hero!�� And he grins as Steve rolls his eyes in response. 

“Hi, Eddie.” Steve approaches, plunks his toolbox on the front of the van and leans against it. “You know, I’m surprised you called me. It didn’t seem like you were ever going to.” 

Eddie shrugs, hands in his pockets. “Yeah, I just- I couldn’t think of anyone else who’d be able to help me. I’m sorry if me calling you, like, freaked you out for a second there.” 

Steve’s eyes narrow and his head tilts like a confused puppy. “Why would you calling freak me out?” 

“Well, I mean, you only gave me your number in case something happened with the kids, right?” Eddie states. “So, I didn’t mean to make you worried at first that there might’ve been, like, a Dustin emergency or something.” 

“Oh…” A number of emotions flicker across Steve’s face as he seems to come to some sort of realization, and his expression ultimately settles on vaguely amused. “Right, yeah. Totally.” 

Now Eddie’s the one who’s confused, feeling like he’s missed a punchline. “Is that…not why you gave me your number?” It’s not like it had actually been explicitly stated, but they’d just been talking about the kids right before Steve had written his number down, so Eddie had just assumed that was the reason. 

“No, it-” Steve shakes his head and smiles, a little bit fond, a little bit like he’s still sharing some kind of inside joke with himself. “It’s not important right now,” he decides. “Let’s just figure out your van first, alright? What was going on with it before it broke down?” 

“Well, I don't actually know,” Eddie says, “but she was being very loud and dramatic about it.” 

“Huh, I’ve heard of pets developing similar personalities to their owners but I’ve never heard of cars doing it.” 

“Oh shut up.” 

Steve grins, pushing himself off the front of the car so he can open the hood and take a look. He immediately starts to tinker around with some stuff. Eddie has absolutely no idea what he’s doing, but he sure looks good doing it. There’s a cold breeze in the air, getting colder by the minute with the slowly darkening sky, but something about watching Steve’s arms as he works a wrench into the machinery has Eddie feeling strangely warm. 

Steve’s talking, probably trying to explain what he’s doing or what’s wrong with the van, though Eddie’s not catching a word of it. He couldn’t pay attention even if he tried, and not just because he’s distracted by Steve’s arms. The other half of his mind is still stubbornly stuck on the whole thing about Steve’s number, racking his brain trying to figure out why the hell else he would’ve given it to him. 

He spends way too long replaying that moment, and all their previous and subsequent interactions, over and over again in his head before his memory finally starts to give notice to all Steve’s lingering glances, subtle once-overs, and suggestive smirks.

“Holy shit, you were flirting with me!” Eddie blurts out the realization as soon as it hits him. “When you gave me your number - you were trying to hit on me!”

Steve, who had been interrupted mid sentence, barks out a laugh. “Now he gets it,” he teases as he glances over at Eddie. “You know, I couldn't figure you out for a while. All this time you never called but would still say hi to me when I picked the kids up from Hellfire, I figured it was some sort of soft rejection. But you really were just completely oblivious, huh?” 

“No yeah, I just have fucking rocks for brains apparently,” Eddie says, shaking his head self-deprecatingly as he rushes to reassure him, “I was definitely not rejecting you. Definitely, definitely not. Believe me, if I’d’ve known- I would’ve called so fast, man. I mean, trust me, your phone would’ve never stopped ringing.” 

“Good to know.” Steve smiles, his eyes so golden and warm in the dusk it almost seems as if the sun is on its way back up. He returns his attention to the van, just for half a second to give the machinery one last tweak, and then he straightens and closes the hood, wiping the car grease from his hands off on his jeans as he announces, “Well, your car should start now, if you wanna test it out and make sure. And then we can, uh, continue this conversation?” 

Eddie nods, hops back in the van, and turns his key in the ignition. It rumbles to life, and he lets out a laugh like a cheer. “You’re a goddamn miracle worker, Stevie!” he shouts.

“Glad I could help,” Steve calls back proudly. 

Eddie revels in the sound of his not-dead van for a moment longer before he takes a deep breath, turns off the engine, and jumps out to stand in front of Steve again. “So.” 

“So.” 

There’s a brief beat of buzzing silence. Eddie finds he doesn’t have all that much left to say, and he’s feeling far too giddy right now to be able to stand through some sappy discussion about how they feel about each other when it’s entirely unnecessary. He suggests instead, “Do you wanna just skip the conversation and go make out in the back of my van?” 

Steve grins at him. “Absolutely.” 

[saejinniestar]

A dark thought.

Daddy k!nk, fingering, breeding, subspace, puppy!reader, human! member. IT IS DARK so if you don't like that, then don't read. MDNI.

You were his puppy, his property. He signed a contract to have you. He was the nicest out of all the men who came to see you. He knew what he wanted, an untouched puppy. Luckily, you were his first pick. He read the papers, brought here during younger years, untouched, ready to be bought. He convinced his friends and family that he found someone and that he was ready for marriage. All he had to do was buy you.

It was easy really, using sweet words and kind gestures, you were already in love. You got into his car, so excited to finally be bought. When he got to his house, you jumped out and ran inside. You ran around, smelling the new smells and seeing new things. "Are you happy that daddy bought you, darling?" You ran back to him jumping into his lap, "Daddy? Your name is daddy?" He nodded. "Thank you daddy for buying me, I love you daddy!" He went close to your ear, whispering, "Daddy loves you too, daddy is always gonna love you."

He sat you down in his lap, watching all the guests enjoying themselves at your guys' wedding. You were wearing a pretty white dress but underneath you were wearing a white silk lingerie with easy access for him. He pressed kisses to your neck and traveled up to your ear. He lightly bit it and licked the shell of your ear. You whimpered and your body shook a little. He whispered sweet things in your ear, making you slowly drift away from reality into a subspace only he could enter. "Daddy's gonna make you feel so good when we get to the hotel."

He carried you all the way up to your room. He whispered in your ear about what he was gonna do to you. He talked while you listened, eyes glazed over and head without a thought. He sat you down on the bed, unzipping your dress. His hands roamed your body as he listened to your incoherent rambling as you came back down. "Mmh, d-daddy, feels so good!" He barely brushed his fingers against your panties. "You want daddy to breed you? Get your sweet cunt knocked up?" You nodded, dizzy by the feel of his fingers. "Hmm, you wouldn't even have a choice now would you? Who owns you, puppy?" You pointed to him, humping his fingers in the process. You were barely realizing that you were still humping his hand when he moved it.

"Now tell me, puppy, who does this cunt belong to?" You looked at him, "You daddy." He smirked, taking off his clothes. "And who do you belong to?" You whimpered as he kissed you. "I belong to you daddy, you bought me so you own me." He sucked your tongue, smiling. He taught you so well, teaching you what to say and what to do. Your tail was wagging rapidly behind you.

When he left to work, he knew you’d be at home waiting for him. You’d be there, pretty collar and pretty skirt, after all you needed to be wet and ready for daddy. He’d hear about how you rubbed your bare cunt on his pillow but it never worked, you needed his fingers and dick. He trained you so well, corrupted you beyond repair. He manipulated your mind, telling you things that weren’t actually true. One of them was coming inside. You knew that daddy was always supposed to come inside you, keep it inside so it could take. You weren’t supposed to sit anywhere else but on his dick, you were his pretty cockwarmer, even while you slept. Whatever he said was right, if he needed you to have your leash on, you would.

You were happy being with him, always kissing him and needing him. He kept you right by him, needy and desperate for him, cunt always wet for him. You were sitting in his lap, his tip kissing your cervix and his hands on your chest, your tongue wrapped around his, mind far away. He knew he made the right decision several years ago, you were the perfect puppy for him.

[flowerofenigmas]

Maskless Mark x black male reader

An: Not a lot of black reader fics for Invincible, especially not male ones, so I thought I'd do it myself. The next post will most likely be either an Invincible X Tamaranean reader or a self-indulgent Genshin Self insert post. Or the secret THIRD option: an invincible self-insert post.

CW for major character death (reader), angst, and mild gore.

"Where's Mark, Y/N? You were supposed to drop him off an hour ago."

It was a simple question, one you could've answered easily. Amber and Mark had a bit of a falling out, you two talked for a bit after, and then he went to see Eve. An easy sequence of events to relay.

But the real question was if you wanted to.

You had never seen Omni-man so pissed, especially towards Mark. If you told him where Mark went, would he be safe afterward? You could do that to someone.

Especially not someone you love.

Omni-man's finger gripped the side of your car door, threatening to dent it. "Answer the question, Y/N. Where is Mark?" The words came more impatient and stern than the last, with the 'hero' leaning closer to you and maintaining firm eye contact. Your heart was beating so hard you swore it would just leap out. It raced faster when you noticed the blood on his fingers.

Even still, you couldn't betray Mark.

"He and Amber had a bit of a falling out...?" You murmured, voice small as you gently tugged on a loc. "And uh- he went to the mall to cool off and, um..."

Thunk.

There was now a hand shaped indent in the roof of your car. Omni-man knew you were lying, and his patience with you was near gone.

"One last chance, Y/N. Where. Is. Mark?"

You panicked.

Without a second thought, you slammed your foot down against the pedal and sped off. The roof of your car was now beyond repair and the side was now heavily scratched. You didn't care, though.

You didn't get far.

You were violently dragged out of your car, one side now cut from glass and metal and your neck held in a tight grip.

You were given a chance.

And you wasted it.

But at least it was on love.

The last thing you saw was Omni-man's fist pulling back to punch you.

Crunch.

The scene Mark had returned to was gruesome, to say the least.

Not much in the traditional sense, as it was one person, but to him, it was.

One person lay dead on the street, neck nearly twisted off and face caved in beyond recognition, but Mark knew who it was.

Brown skin. Long black locs. A Seance Dog hoodie that once belonged to him.

It was you.

"I know how much he meant to you, Mark, but you have to understand that our mission is much more important than the life of one person."

Mark didn't look back to his father; he didn't even acknowledge him. Right now, he was focused on you. The life you could've had. The gifts he had wanted to give you. Your plans to go 'hang out' later. He could've had everything with you, but it was taken from him.

You were dead, gone, and yet still he raised a hand to reach out to you.

Omni-man flew closer to Mark, placing a hand on his shoulder. "He was holding you back, son. With him around, you would've never helped me conquer Earth. He needed to go. If you're so distraught, then you can get another pet later. Right now, you need to-"

"You're right, Dad. I wouldn't have ever conquered Earth for Viltrum with him around." Mark interrupted as he finally stopped reaching out. "But after what you did? I don't want you here."

Mark finally turned back to face his father, eyes hollow and numb. "I can see the future, and you don't live to see tomorrow."

It was quiet.

He was finally quiet.

He was heartless, so Mark made sure that he fit that descriptor.

A giant hole in the chest of his 'father.'

He'd never have to listen to him again.

His mother had been killed not that long ago by his 'father.' His friend- no, not friend, you were more than that to him. His everything was killed by him, too. And now his 'father' was dead, leaving poor Mark alone.

He had gotten revenge. Revenge for his mother, revenge for you. But he didn't feel any better.

You were gone.

And he didn't feel any better.

Just empty.

Empty and angry.

Why did everyone else get to live so carefree while you had to die? It wasn't fair.

He'd make it fair.

Tell me if anything is off with the tags or if there are any spelling mistakes.

[hoe4sports]

How this ends p5

Fridolina Rolfo ft Alexia Putellas x Reader

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 alternate

Author’s note: Here is the ending to the “how this ends”. I hope you have enjoyed my series, and that you keep reading my stories.

Warning: non

Summary: Alexia tries to repair what she once broke.

-

After coming home from your trip to Sweden with Fridolina, Alexia had begged you to come see her. At first, you bluntly refused. Never again, you promised yourself. But then. the leafes turned brown, and the ocean changed into a temperature only a fisherman could handle swimming in. Just like the seasons changed, you came around and agreed to meet her.

Picking a spot to meet her wasnt as easy as it seems. She suggested to meet up at her place, but you refused. You decided that meeting up in what once was your own homes would remind you of too many good memories and you would end up forgiving her on the spot.

Meeting up at Fridolina's place, just felt inapropriate. You had too many good memories with her to ruin your peace. It wasnt like you still loved Alexia. You loved her, but like the number of dates she took you to declined, so did your feelings for her. Fridolina picked up the pieces of what Alexia broke, and she worked hard every single day to glue it back togeter.

Arriving at the cafe, you immediately spotted Alexia among the tables. You felt your heart drop to your gut at the sight of her. She was wearing a cap covering her dark baggy eyes as she looked down. Her outfit didn’t resemble something Alexia would normally wear, only a plain pair of jeans with a stain and a white t-shirt.

Even though you felt less affected by the breakup by the day, just like your wounds had started closing up: they definitely hadn’t healed. You felt like your stomach was about to twist inside out, and tried to take a deep breath which only ended in you suppressing a yawn that turned into an embarrassingly squeak.

Alexia immediately shot her head up in your direction before practically tumbling out of her chair. Her frame moved towards you with her hands reached out in your direction. You looked at her hands. The gesture was out of pure routine after spending 13 years together. When she reached you, you gave her an apologetic look and she pulled her hands in, slightly redder in the face.

“hi” you tried to say confidently, but it ended up being more of a whisper. “Hola” she whispered back.

The pair of you standing completely dumbfounded in the middle of the cafe surrounded by couples and families. The tension was thick, and it made you feel like you were on display for the whole cafe to see. “Wanna walk?” Alexia asked, but it ended up being more a telling you instead of a suggestion.

It’s odd, you think. You haven’t seen Alexia since before the summer. Now, it’s late September. Everything is different now. It’s has all changed. Eventually, you moved out of Frido’s apartment into your own home. A place with only one tooth brush, one hairbrush and one water bottle. A home where you could eat lasagna on a Wednesday because you didn’t need to cook for an athlete.

As you walk quietly on the gravel listening to nothing but your shoes hitting the rocks; the sound of the silence becomes unbearable. “How are you?” Alexia spills out. You raise your brow at her. Did she really just ask how I am, you think to yourself while internally rolling your eyes.

“I’m feeling pretty good. Going to Sweden this summer and staying with Fridolina’s family really really helped.” You practically spit the words at her.

A part of you feels good saying that harsh truth to her, to be brutally honest, but a part of you does still love Alexia. You see the hurt on her face, but she hurt you. She chose this for you, and she dosent get to slip away from the responsibility of the situation.

“What’s the deal with Frido? Why do you car-“

“Listen, Alexia. I’m gonna be transparent here. I’m only here because I wanted to tell you in person, before it comes out through media; I’m seeing Fridolina.”

“It’s kinda hard not seeing her when you stay at her place, no?” Alexia laughs.

Your eyes tear up.

“I love her, Alexia. I’m in love with Fridolina.”

-

After your walk with Alexia, that was cut short because of your confession; you retreated hom to Frido. The only issue with what you had just confessed to Alexia, was that you hadn’t confessed your feelings to the girl you were in love with.

When you got home, you immediately popped yourself into the couch lying down on your belly. You let out an audible sigh before laying your head down. Why did it feel like a conflict of interest?

You knew that you loved Frido, and you had loved her since you woke up from mourning your relationship. Frido had been there every step of the way. Always patient, always kind and always good. Frido was the greater woman. She was just perfect.

Abrudly, you were cut off from your own thoughts when Frido suddenly appeared from the corner. The pair of you both let out a scared scream before laughing at each other.

“Sötnos, how was your walk with Alexia? Did you get any answers?”

Frido moved towards you before sitting down next to your head. Her hands running through your somewhat knotted hair from the wind at the park.

“Yes”

You sat yourself up, looking straight into Fridolina’s blue sparkling eyes.

“Not to be noisy, but. And?”

You moved towards her face, gently reaching your fingertips towards her face. Your face just centimetres from the Swede.

“And…” you repeated silently, barely whispering trying to catch your breath.

“Y/n? What did you talk about? The cat? A possible regroup? Fill me in please! And what?”

The way Frido’s natural curiosity kicked in had you grinning at her. You looked at Frido’s lips before looking at her eyes again. Your hand tucking away a few strands of her blonde hair. A soft smile on your face leaning towards her ear before whispering softly:

“And, I love you, Fridolina Rölfo”

-

You and Frido had just come home from Mapi and Ingrid’s when you felt a sudden overwhelming feeling of missing your cat. Your tears were dripping, softly hitting Frido’s couch while looking at your phone. The screen was showing you your cat’s adorable little face. Alexia always complained about how many pictures you took of the little guy, but you loved him to pieces. She always complained about cat litter. How expensive cat food was. How expensive taking him to the vet was. How he couldn’t be in your bedroom or in the kitchen. But you didn’t care. He had never betrayed you, so you never betrayed him.

You looked at his sweet little face while swiping to the next picture. It was a picture of him sleeping on your chest while you were fast asleep aswell. The next picture was your cat with a flower on his head. After the flower picture, a video of him chasing a robotic fish popped up. Your tears kept pressing while you laughed at yourself.

“YN? You will never guess what Mapi just texted me! Oh, are you crying?” Fridolina said as she barged in clearly in shock. You looked up at her, and she was already moving towards you in the speed of lightning. Her hands reached out to you as she arrived at the couch and your hands immediately intertwined with hers.

“I.. It’s just silly, don’t worry about it”

“Skatt, it’s never silly if something makes you cry. I always worry about you. Is there anything I can do to help? Hell, I’ll find a way to catch the moon if that is what you want.”

You flashed your screen towards Frido who looked back at your black cat.

“Is it your cat?”

“It was, but he lives with Alexia now. She refuses to give him to me..”

“Do you want him back?”

“Yes, what kind of question is that? Of course I do”

“Okay; you get what you want, love.”

“But there will be cat litter, he has midnight zoomies and he loves to yell, AND you don’t even like cats?”

“If he makes you happy, then I’ll find a way to get him to you. I’ll be any type of animal person for you. Maybe not a spider or a snake, but a cat? No issues there!”

“But, Alexia dosent want to let him go”

“Don’t worry about the practicality, I’ll sort it out”

The next day, Frido arrives from training with her bag and your cat in a carrier, making you feel happier and more grateful than ever for finding someone that loves you the way you love them.

—

Your eyes filled with tears while looking down on the woman in front of you on one knee with a velvet box in her hands. The idea of marriage, a big grand wedding with all of the people the you loved was something that had lingered in your head since you saw your mum in her wedding dress back when you were 6. Since that moment, you knew you wanted marriage.

Frido’s blue eyes were sparkling reflections the stars in the dark sky above her. She had gone above and beyond to make the proposal special. With the help of Ingrid, she had planned a secret trip for you to Lake Como where she planned to purpose by the gate to heaven at the date of your 3 year anniversary. Frido being Frido, didn’t stop there.

“Y/N, from bestfriends to girlfriends. You are the light of my life. The last years with you have been the best years of my life. I might not have gotten the chance to grow up with you, but I’m ready to grow old with you. Y/N, will you please do me the honour of marrying me?”

“Yes, Fridolina. Yes, yes, yes!” You cheered before throwing yourself around her. She caught you and spun you around in circles. It felt exactly like a scene from a romantic movie. Then, it was time for the ring. It was sparkly and grand, but elegant and classy. It was exactly what you wanted. You looked into Frido’s eyes as she slid the ring on your finger while tears of joy were rolling down your cheeks.

«Its perfect, its everything I’ve ever dreamed of. You are everything I’ve ever dreamed of.” You say as your tears spill down your cheeks while framing Frido’s cheeks with your hands.

“You deserve it, you are so good to me. You are perfect, everything I could’ve ever dreamed of. I would be a fool miss out on trying to wife you up” the last comment made you giggle leaving a smile of your fiancé’s face.

She then reached around her back and somehow pulled out a bouquet of flowers. Not roses, you don’t care much for roses. Alexia would buy you roses, and you’d say “thank you”. But you don’t care for roses. The flowers Frido picked out for you, were bluebells: your favourite. A flower that was rare in the nature, even rarer in shops. The gesture brought tears to your eyes.

“Close your eyes, baby” Frido commanded before she put her hands carefully on top of your eyes.

“There is more?” You whisper, a hushed cry chocking your sob. You felt slightly confused, but you trusted her. She turned you around to face another direction. Music started playing, or rather a live band started playing Ed Sheeran’s “perfect”. Her hands dropped from your eyes and you immediately opened them. There, just 50 meters away from you; You and Frido’s families and friends, 60 people flown in from all over the world to be there on your special day. Your nearest friends came sprinting towards you before wrapping you into a hug knowing that all the pain was worth it.

[audliminal]

Survivability Bias Pt 6

Masterpost - Ao3

Danny can't sleep. Not in this horrid place where the lights bleed green with old rot, and the bees in the walls that buzz in time with his vibrating heart. The murmurs behind doors bleed together, kind and angry, ferocious and sugar-sweet, and when the bees get louder so do the voices and Danny wants to run to them; he wants to hide. The pile of papers on his desk looming over him, the red lines a discordant note amidst the overpowering green. The green of blood, the green of fear. His desk lamp turns to look at him, and it burns his skin, boiling and bubbling like a live wire, and Danny is trapped in the web, frozen and stuck to the floor. Rooted in place, but no one's there, not even Sam or Tucker. He's alone. He has to do this part alone. There's only two others like him. One doesn't care and the other is a child. So Danny has to move, has to listen harder to whispers, has to know who they took this time, has to find them, has to repair the damage and escape without getting caught. Can't rely on anyone else (the only people who want to help don't deserve this, don't deserve any of this - no one else should be punished for his mistake)and the green glow stretches and builds and the walls fall away and everyone is staring at the moron who broke the world, who ruined everything with a stupid dare (why did he take the dare, he knew better than that), and it doesn't matter anymore because there's white cars and white suits, and his mother is staring in shock as the agents advance-

 Danny pulls awake all at once in the pre-dawn light. His dream laughs from whatever recess of his mind it pulled itself out of, the horrid ichor of its dread cling to every aspect of him as he carefully tenses all his muscles and relaxes them again, grasping at the desperate hope that it might help get rid of the horrible way his body wants to vibrate itself to pieces. He feels like he's made of the damn bees from his dream.

Danny's careful tensing process barely helps, but at the moment he's happy to take even barely-help, so he stands up, still counting in his head and breathing as slowly as he can manage. His lungs burn with the strain of it, but the burn kind of feels good, and it definitely helps him stay rooted in the here-and-now, so he keeps doing it as he extricated himself from the night's hiding spot.

The chill of early winter is definitely starting to hit, and Danny let's himself feel just a bit smugly satisfied about the usefulness of his affinity for ice. His resistance isn't huge, and it's not exactly any more pleasant to be cold, but it's a relief to not have to worry about hypothermia that much even though he's now homeless.

Of course, how long he'll remain homeless for is decidedly in question now. Danny hadn't wanted to ask about time-frames, when Robin was already going out of his way to assist Danny at all, and when he'd offered housing assistance too, Danny had only been more reticent to ask questions.

“Now, you said you were homeless?” Robin had asked. Danny had startled back,but before he could start extemporizing, Robin had continued in the same blunt tone. “I’ll obviously be emancipating you; I would make you eighteen, but you really don’t look it, and I don’t want anyone to have a reason to scrutinize any of this, and a declaration of emancipation largely amounts to the same thing. Plus it will give you an easy way to discourage people from asking about your past, since emancipation typically implies a, shall we say, sensitive situation. That does mean that you'll be liable for your own housing though, so considering your present lack of legal standing, I would be more than happy to assist you in acquiring an apartment in your city of choice.” The matter-of-fact speech had caught Danny completely off guard, and he'd ended up staring at Robin for a long moment before Superboy’s half-hidden snickers had triggered a spat almost exactly like Sam and Tucker had always gotten into. 

Even now, thinking back on the conversation after almost a week, Danny finds himself a little choked up on the homesick wash of memory. At the time, Danny had choked down the unpleasant feeling, and admitted that the help with housing would be much appreciated. Superboy had narrowed his eyes, clearly spotting something in his tone of voice (thanks to his super hearing, undoubtedly), but he had managed to distract him with a joke about not wanting to risk his home dimension’s money being seen as counterfeit, and Robin's resounding excitement over that little theoretical conundrum. In that way, he’d managed to end the encounter with some actual legitimate cash in exchange for his interdimensional stuff, which was turning out to be an exceptional boon, all by itself. 

Of course, that exchange had come with its own revelation — the fact that heroes here had reason to carry cash on them was, perhaps, the most reassuring thing he’d seen so far. Phantom certainly hadn't ever been able to hang around long enough to have a shot at spending any money. It makes him wonder if they're getting paid for their work as heroes, and if so, who's doing the paying. Probably, it's a question worth looking into. Any payments coming from the government ought to have a paper trail of some sort, and Sam would say that sort of detail would say a lot about the whole dynamic.

For now, though, Danny finds himself walking briskly through the shadowy early morning streets, fighting against a wash of melancholy. Robin's cash weighs heavy in his pocket – he's been using it as sparsely as he can, since he doesn't know how long the hundred-or-so dollars need to last. Luckily, the nearby grocery store has a good collection of cheap and easy pre-made foods. For the last six days straight, Danny's been able to have a breakfast of two hard boiled eggs, and he currently has the supplies for pb&j sandwiches in his backpack. He anxiously checks his pocket to make sure Robin's burner phone is still there, but he doesn't bother pulling it out - he has no intention of using it unless he has a real emergency, no matter what the other teen had implied. 

It's still not late enough for the library to be open, by the time he's acquired and eaten his breakfast eggs, so instead he heads for the park, with a thought to shake off the remaining thrum of anxious energy from his dream. He's already flinched at two different cars as they drove past him, so he definitely could use the distraction, and the running has, regrettably,  repeatedly proved itself good at calming down Danny's running thoughts. Danny mentally snorts at the thought; an image of his body chasing down his own mind, tackling it and wrestling it into submission. That's certainly one way to deal with his anticipation for a fight.

Danny makes it three laps before he decides to stop, carefully taking the time to stretch out his legs and properly cool down. It's late enough by now that there's a handful of other people scattered in the park, two of which are on similar morning jogs. A couple of them even offer him a smile and nod as they pass each other. He doesn't know a single one of their names, but he's seen most of them around before, and as he finishes his cool down lap and heads off, he realizes that they probably recognize him too.

It's late enough now that he can head to the library, though when he gets there, he discovers that the computers are all in use, so instead he heads for the aisles of books.

He wanders through the rows, not really looking for anything in particular. Danny's happy enough to admit that he's never been much of a reader; language arts had always been his worst class. Even before the portal had been finished, he'd had a tendency to frustrate his English teachers by completely missing whatever symbolism they expected him to find, and the problem had only gotten worse once he'd half-died. With all the myriad problems the portal had created, Danny had all but stopped turning in any of his homework, and he'd not picked up even a single one of the assigned books.

At a certain point, it had actually become a bet between him and Sam and Tucker. He would come up with the most ridiculous possible answers whenever Lancer made the mistake of calling on him, and if he finally managed to get the man to break and swear for real, his friends would have to pay for his Nasty Burger for the rest of the year.

That was before things got really bad. The GIW had still been a mostly incompetent nuisance, and his parents had yet to join forces with them. Of course the ghost fights were annoying, but they'd also been kind of fun, and the trio had been so caught up in the fantasy of being the heroes that they hadn't thought about things like collateral damage or serious injury. It wasn't until Tucker and Sam were stitching up gaping wounds while the populace called for Phantom’s head that they really realized how serious things had gotten.

Danny stares down at the copy of Lord of the Flies that he'd pulled out of shelves. This was the book they'd been reading when he'd first had his accident with the portal. He remembers it clearly because afterwards he'd kept dropping the book and Sam and Tucker had ended up taking turns reading it to him. They'd gotten into several arguments over the meaning of the book. But by the end, both had agreed that the characters of the book were losers. Anyone reasonable wouldn't waste time with petty problems in a life or death situation. Now, Danny's not sure if the three of them just underestimated what's reasonable, or if everyone was just that unreasonable. Probably, it's more complicated than that, but as Danny stares at the book, he can't help but feel furious that a trio of fourteen-year-old losers managed to be more compassionate and forward-thinking than an entire town of adults. Danny wonders if any of the books he hadn't read would offer an explanation of their behavior.

Danny's pocket buzzes and for a moment all he can think about is the bees in the walls of his dream, buzzing louder and louder and louder- then, behind him a chair scratches against carpet as someone stands up. Danny's in the library, and the buzzing in his pocket is the burner phone that Robin had passed him along with the cash. He pulls it out, fumbles for a moment with it, and then stares at the text message on the screen.

Marla's Diner, noon. Wear your mask.

The message is short and to the point, which Danny supposes he should have expected. It hasn't even been a week yet, so Danny can't imagine Robin has his identity ready yet – he's got to have loads of other, more important work, after all. That doesn't mean he has any intention of arguing though, so he types out a little saluting emoticon, and then shoves the book back in the shelves. If he's gonna be meeting with Robin, he needs to not spend his morning having a crisis, thank you very much. So instead he hunts down the young adult section to see if he recognizes any of the series they have here.

Danny finds Marla’s Diner around 11:30, and once he’s spotted it, he finds a place to transform. He doesn’t want to be late, but being in his ghost form still makes him feel like he’s about to get jumped, so he sits on the roof of the building, holding his invisibility, until he sees Superboy flying over and dropping Robin off.

Robin murmurs quietly to Superboy as he’s set down, and Danny strains to hear them without moving at all. “...right to privacy.” Is all he catches before Superboy nods and straightens into a goofy salute.

“Tell him I said hi,” Superboy says. “And just text me whenever you want me to pick you up!” Robin agrees and heads into the diner,while Superboy flies off again. Danny stays frozen until he’s sure the other boy is fully gone, wondering what exactly a day in the life of one these heroes really involves.

When he and his friends weren’t dealing with a ghost attack, or some other crisis they were always more focused on school and having fun, but now with so much time to reflect, and a clear vision of what actual organized heroes look like, he catches himself wondering if things wouldn’t have turned out so bad if they had spent more of their time working on the problem where there wasn’t an imminent threat. Not that he has any clue what that work should have looked like, but maybe if they’d been more focused, Danny wouldn’t have had to flee.

Of course, Jazz would tell him to focus on what’s in front of him, rather than past decisions he can’t change. And right now, he has a meeting to get to. So Danny drops his invisibility and floats down to the ground, trying to look as unthreatening as possible as he enters the diner. The last thing he wants is to get mistaken for a rogue, after all. The hostess turns to greet him and freezes, and Danny flinches, frantically debating whether it’s worth upsetting Robin by bolting.

“Oh!” The hostess says after a moment, pulling Danny’s focus back. “Well, that explains Robin's presence here, doesn't it!” Her tone is bright. She doesn’t sound upset or scared, and when Danny risks glancing at her expression, she’s actually smiling.

“Uh-” Danny blinks. What was he going to say? Why exactly was he here, again?

“Our local hero, already catching the notice of the big leagues! I should be glad, really. You certainly look far too young to be doing the hero thing all on your lonesome.” Her grin dims a little, but before Danny can respond, she brightens again and continues. “Well, your pal is down at the end, hun. Last booth, nice and out of the way, for all your Very Important Discussions.” With a wave she gestures to a booth where Robin is seated, watching the entire interaction with a blank expression. Danny fights down another flinch, and instead forces himself to start walking over to slide into the booth across from him.

“Uh, hey.” Danny says, grasping at the string of his hoodie the second he’s seated. There’s a menu sitting on the table in front of him, and one in front of Robin as a well, so he probably intends for them to have lunch while they’re here, which probably means this is a friendly conversation. At the very least it’s not openly hostile, which officially makes it better than any meal he’d been forced to have with Vlad.

“Well,” Robin begins. “You certainly have a rapport with the locals already. I wasn't aware this region had significant issues.” Danny blinks over at him. He hadn’t even processed the waitress calling him the local hero, he’d been so focused on not causing a scene. And of course, now Robin thinks he was lying in their previous conversation, and- oh god, is that what this meeting is about? Did Robin become suspicious of him since their last conversation. What if this is a trap? Robin’s just staring at him and Danny hasn’t even responded to the clearly implied question yet.

“I’m not-” Danny starts. “Hero is really an exaggeration. There was a train crash about a month ago and it was- bad. I couldn’t just not help the firefighters.”

“Hmmm,” Robin responds, tilting his head slightly and watching Danny fidget for a long moment.

“That doesn’t cause problems for you, does it? I wasn’t trying to step on any toe, I promise! I just- didn’t want people to die, if I could help it.”

“You did nothing wrong,” Robin says suddenly, his tone turning deadly serious. “Nobody is ever wrong for wanting to help, and I read about that crash in the news. You worked with the firefighters and listened to their instructions without question. You provided clear and honest estimates of capabilities and didn’t cause any damage by overestimating or harming yourself in the process. Frankly, that incident is an exemplary show of everything the Justice League strives to do. I know fully trained members who would struggle to perform so perfectly in that kind of circumstance.”

“Oh, wow. Um, thanks?” Danny mumbles, a thrill of pride coursing through him, not unlike he’d felt in the initial aftermath of the crash. Maybe he shouldn’t feel so good about something that was such a terrible tragedy, but it’s just so nice to be told you did a good job.. “I mean, obviously it was freaking terrible, you know? And I’m sure they would have saved loads of those people without me, but-”

“In a disaster like that, everyone’s efforts count towards something,” Robin cuts him off. “It’s not about whether you single handedly changed the outcome, it’s the fact that you made the decision to lend a helping hand in a scary and dangerous situation.”

“Right,” Danny says. Somehow this conversation has become very serious, and Robin’s not talking like he’s in trouble, but he can’t imagine any other reason for this meeting. “Um, is that what you wanted to see me about? The train crash?” Robin stares at him for a moment, before relaxing his posture a little.

“No. I had a few questions regarding your identity. But we should order first. I want you to take your time to consider your decisions.

“Oh, um.” Danny glances down at the menu. He’d been kind of hoping to get away with not ordering anything, but he really doesn’t want to tell Robin no. Luckily the food seems pretty similar to what they’d have at a diner back home. “I’ll probably just have a sandwich? Whatever’s simplest.” The list of sandwiches is about half diner specialties, but there’s also a turkey club and a BLT listed, though the latter includes a fourth letter A, so Danny’s not entirely positive it’s the same thing. He struggles a bit with reading the description, but manages to confirm that it is his kind of BLT, just with the inclusion of avocado.

“If that’s what you want,” Robin says, and at Danny’s nod, he turns to signal the waiter, his demeanor shifts as he does so, and Danny watches with wide eyes as he smiles and thanks the server in a perfect presentation of manners. It would remind him of Vlad, how he drops so suddenly into a charming manner, but it's so completely devoid of malice, that instead it just comes off as someone incredibly gracious who is here on serious business. Then the waitress is gone again, and Robin's undivided attention returns to Danny.

“Do you want to go to school?” Danny blinks, and struggles to reorient himself to the new topic. School has certainly never been a choice in his life before, so the question feels just a little like a trap.

“Is truancy not a thing, here?” Danny asks. 

“I mean, under normal conditions yes, but we’re sort of dealing with a lot of exceptions that the standard laws don’t really cover here. So it’s mostly up to us, how we handle your education. I considered just listing you as having your GED, but I wanted to give you the opportunity to have input into the matter. After all, school could help you adjust to the cultural variances, and if you have any intentions of going to college, a GED can complicate the process. Not that you couldn’t just attend a community college first, but you did say you were sixteen, so we could also set you up to finish off high school properly. It wouldn’t be too hard to list you as previously homeschooled to explain away your missing educational history.”

“Huh.”

“Of course, if we listed you as having your GED, you could just head directly into community college, so in some ways that would get you through college faster, but it would also place more pressure on you, and you’re already having to adjust to plenty of societal differences.”

Danny sits for a moment, thinking about it. Getting a say in how he handles school is wild, but what’s even more wild is the slow realization that he actually kind of wants to go back to it. Danny had hated high school so far, but really most of that could be attributed to a combination of bullies and the absolute hell that was trying to complete school work while secretly being a ghost.

Robin stays quiet, letting Danny mull the question over, as he starts typing on his fancy wrist computer. Danny’s very intrigued by  the piece of tech. He hadn’t seen enough room for a full keyboard, but the way he’s typing seems too fluid to be using the multitap T9 system that Danny’s familiar with. He watches Robin for a moment, thinking about his parents’ own inventions and how he’d always been kind of intrigued by them, even when he thought their whole ghost obsession was nonsense. Danny had always hated his lit classes; had never gotten the hang of analysis, but he’d found science fascinating, and even if he’d had a habit of making a lot of dumb mistakes in math class, he’d liked the logic of it well enough.

It’s kind of fascinating coming to the realization that he actually likes learning, as he sits at a diner in another dimension. Before the portal incident the part of school that he’d really hated had been the social bullshit, not the actual classes. And the idea of getting a fresh start, where nobody already hates him, and he can get whatever grades he wants without worrying about getting in trouble with his parents is practically intoxicating.

“I mean,” Danny says, after their food’s been delivered. “I feel like I might as well try doing school for real? I could always test out if I wanted to and it would be kind of nice to get like a year and a half of a normal high school experience, you know?” Robin watches him for a moment after he finishes talking, and then nods.

“Entirely understandable. Would you prefer a physical school, or do you want to do classes online?”

“Um, I didn't even know that was an option.”

“It's not exactly standard, but it exists as an alternative just like homeschooling. Generally speaking online classes offer more flexibility, at the cost of requiring more self-sufficiency. Some private schools even offer online options that partner with colleges.”

“Huh. That sounds really cool? I don't know if I'd be good at it though.”

“If you want, you could try it out, and if you find yourself struggling, I can help you switch to a physical school.”

“Yeah, okay, sure.”

[writeforfandoms]

Fast Car 1

Find my Ghost masterlist

My second submission for the Ghost Challenge hosted by @glitterypirateduck

You can't believe your luck when you find what looks like a functional car, an excellent way to repair your own car. Turns out you were right not to trust your luck. The truck has owners, and those owners are not happy to find you rummaging around. Oops?

Simon "Ghost" Riley x f!reader

For this one, I used a few different prompts through the whole fic - have fun finding each of them! #'s 3, 9, 14, 18, 27

Word count: 1.3k

Warnings: Canon typical violence, light violence, swearing, zombie au, mention of cannibals.

You slowed when you spotted the truck. The truck itself wasn't that unusual - they existed aplenty out here in the country, away from the remains of civilization. 

But this one had fresh tire tracks behind it, the ground still a little soft with the rains from last night. 

You hadn't seen a working vehicle in… months. Maybe a year. 

Of course, you could have a working vehicle of you could find a replacement part. 

Maybe you'd take a look. Real quiet and sneaky like. Just a little look. Just in case you could find a complementary part. 

You weren't stupid, though. You looked around carefully, checked the footprints around the truck. Checked for any movement. Listened hard too. 

But there was nothing. Whoever had come in the truck was long gone, but could be back any time. If you wanted to try grabbing the part, the time was now. 

The doors were unlocked, half luck and half the times. No need to lock the doors when there was nobody around to rob you blind. It was easy to pop the hood. One more look around showed that the coast was still clear. 

So you pushed the hood open to investigate, humming to yourself. 

“You need a tune up,” you muttered to the truck with sympathy. “I can tell. Too bad I'm not sticking around to help.” 

You patted the headlight but continued to look. You needed to hurry up now. 

You spied what you needed and smiled. Close enough to work. 

“Hey!”

The shout made you jump and very nearly bang your head on the hood, and you jerked around to spot someone walking towards the truck quickly, long strides eating up the distance. 

You took off. No way you were sticking around to get in an argument with the owner. Or skip straight to getting killed. 

You didn't get very far before someone grabbed your arm, nearly wrenching it with the force of his yank. You yelped, the sudden pain startling, and swung around with his pull. 

The man was huge, not just tall but broad. Dark makeup smeared around his eyes made him even more imposing. 

“Let go!” You kicked out at him, clumsy but determined. 

He moved out of the way easily, not even shifting his grip. One more tug sent you off-balance, and he twisted your arm behind you and up, your breath hitching in your throat. 

“Stop struggling.” The rough words made you pause, swallowing hard against the noise of pain that wanted to escape. 

The one approaching the two of you seemed in less of a hurry now that you were subdued, adjusting his hat as he eyed the two of you. Mainly you, probably. You narrowed your eyes at him, tempted to bare your teeth. 

“What were you doing, eh?” He stopped, one hand planted on his hip, the other holding his gun. 

Well. You'd survived two years of fucking zombies and zealots and shit, only to get killed because of a car. Seemed fitting. 

“Looking for a snack,” you drawled, wincing when the man behind you tugged your arm a little higher. 

The hatted one eyed you, shrewd and cold, calculating. A sudden, terrible thought made you swallow hard. 

“Promise I'm not a good snack, though,” you said, going up onto your toes to try to alleviate some of the ache in your arm and shoulder. “Definitely not edible.” 

The man in front of you blinked, apparently caught off guard. 

“You sayin’ you've run into cannibals?” The man behind you asked, incredulous. His grip didn't waver. 

“Well, I ran away from them,” you pointed out, very reasonably. “Does that mean you're not interested in eating me?”

“Not even close.” The one in front of you snorted, stepping closer so he could look down at you. “Why were you poking around in the car?” 

“Looking for kittens,” you snarked, even as pain tightened your voice. “They like warm spots, you know.” 

You yelped as your arm wrenched higher, shoulder straining against the pressure. Tears sprang to your eyes, unbidden and unwanted. 

“Got any friends hiding out?” The hatted one didn't change his tone, still watching you. 

Sure, you could keep mouthing off. But your shoulder ached now, and you were worried they'd dislocate it and then leave you. That would be a death sentence, just a slow one. 

“No,” you grumbled, head dropping. “It's just me. Just been me for a while.” 

To your surprise, the man behind you dropped your arm and stepped back. You stumbled from the sudden release, quickly pulling your arm in to your chest. The throbbing hadn't stopped yet, but at least it didn't hurt so badly. 

“What did you do to the car?” Though there was no visible change to the two men, you didn't doubt they'd grab you again if needed. Being released was a reward for honesty, leaving you with a choice to make. 

“Nothing.” Sulking just a little, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I was looking for a part, but I didn't get a chance to grab it. The car is fine.”

“Hm.” He tipped his head, studying you more closely now. “You a mechanic?”

“I was,” you said, a little wry. “Not much to work on anymore, with most of my customers dead or worse.” 

The big guy made a soft noise of amusement. You eyed him for a moment before returning your focus to the hatted man. 

He nodded once, slowly, gaze still focused on you. “Looking for somewhere to settle, then?”

You shrugged, feeling a little squirrelly now. “Haven't decided.” 

“Tell you what.” He shifted his weight forward, arms crossing over his chest. “We've got a safe place. A town.” 

“Do you?” You didn't bother to keep the skepticism from your voice, even as you rocked back on your heels. “Heard that one before.” 

“If you're really a mechanic, you're welcome in town.” He continued as if you hadn't spoken. “Your choice. Think about it. If you want to come with, meet us there.” He nodded at the decrepit gas station not far from where you all stood. “Tomorrow morning, an hour after sunrise.” 

You eyed him suspiciously. It could be a trick still, a way to get you to lower your guard. It could also be legit. Maybe. Possibly. The chance was very low… but not zero. 

Neither of them moved when you took a careful step back, then another. 

“Tomorrow morning,” the one reminded you, gaze fixed on you still, far too intense for your liking. 

“I'll think about it.” You hadn't really meant to say that, but, well… oh well. You backed away to a safe distance before you turned and walked away. 

You listened for footsteps behind you, and took the long route back to where you'd stashed your things for the day. You even paused multiple times to check behind you and around you. 

And not just to check for zombies, either. 

You didn't trust them, not even a little. The ache in your shoulder hadn't gone away yet, either. 

But… if they were telling the truth… Safety was the rarest commodity nowadays. 

You hadn't been kidding when you'd mentioned running away from cannibals. 

You settled back in a corner, pack held between your knees as you rummaged around for something to eat. You couldn't lie, the idea of somewhere safe to stay, at least for a while, was tempting. 

If you went, it sounded like you'd be stuck in the car with the big guy who'd grabbed you. Eh. You'd just not sit next to him, and undoubtedly once you were in town, it would be easy to avoid him. You didn't have to like him, just tolerate him enough to get in. 

And then avoid him like… Well, like a zombie.

You snickered at your own humor. 

Mind more or less made up, you settled in to have your dinner and rest for the night. You'd already blockaded yourself in pretty well. No zombies were getting in while you slept. 

And tomorrow you'd see if they really had a safe town.

[tj-dragonblade]

[Fluffbruary FIC] Without Warning Something's Dawning (Listen)

Fandom: The Sandman Pairing: Dreamling Rated: T Word Count: 659 Tags: Fluffbruary, Fluffbruary 2025, Human AU, Rich Guy Dream, Mechanic Hob, scent, feelings contemplation, mild Dream-typical angst

Notes: Coming out of left field, we have a surprise fluff entry in the Turbo Lover universe! My brain saw 'green' and 'grey' and went straight to the clothes left on the couch last time around. 'Anticipation' is always an easy theme with this AU as well. Title of course from the Judas Priest song that I named the series after and Dream really ought to take that parenthetical to heart.

Fluffbruary 2025 Prompts: Day 4: green | grey | chess Day 5: anticipation | nonsense | mail

Summary: Dream wanders through his thoughts about Hob

On AO3

It is late afternoon by the time Dream gets to the clothes left in the drawing room. Hob had spent the morning with him lounging in the sunny bay window of the breakfast nook, resplendent in the skimpy teal green dressing gown Dream had gifted him, animatedly discussing literature through the ages. It was a delightful surprise to discover this commonality between them, that Hob was excited to debate the merits of Shakespeare and expound on his favorites from Byron or Chaucer or Austen or Marlowe, and morning had passed into the noon hour before Dream realized it.

Reluctantly then he had retrieved Hob's original clothing from yesterday, from before they had picked up the suit, and once Hob was dressed Dream had driven him home in the Porsche. Or rather, Hob had driven with Dream in the passenger seat, watching how naturally he handled the damned temperamental machine, admiring the flex of his arms and hands as he shifted and steered and sneaking glances at the bright joy in his face.

It warms him even now, back at his quiet and empty house, the Porsche back in the garage, to recall the way Hob had glowed with delight, the grin he sported the whole drive, how right he looked settled in the car that Dream had never felt any true pride in until now.

He likes that Hob is happy driving his car; more specifically, he likes that driving his car makes Hob happy.

He likes making Hob happy.

Hob's happiness brings him happiness.

And he is happy, now, gathering last night's discarded clothing from the green velvet couch, reminded of how it came to be scattered about. He still aches in all the right places, a lingering and welcome memento of their tryst. Hob is so good to him, so giving, indulging anything Dream wants and everything Dream asks of him, with enthusiasm.

They match so perfectly. Dream is forever grateful that he found his way to Matthew's Motor Repairs when the Porsche's clutch went out; Hob is truly the best thing to happen to him in a very long time.

He smiles, picking up Hob's silk shirt, remembering how perfect the vibrant dark teal-green color had looked on Hob, how it burnished the warm tones of his skin and set off the silver threads in his hair—just as Dream had known it would. He drapes the shirt over his arm and lifts the grey suit jacket, shaking it out, bringing the lapels to his face and inhaling. Hob's cologne still clings faintly to the fabric, intertwined with the scent of Hob himself, and Dream feels a rush of anticipation for the next time that he can take it in first-hand, that he can twine himself into Hob's arms and bury his face at the base of Hob's throat, breathe him in, bask in the warmth and the strength of him. The thought curls soft in his stomach and he lets it settle, gathers Hob's trousers and his own rumpled clothing as well, sets it all in a pile. He will have it all delivered to his laundry service to clean and press and return, that he might dress Hob in his lovely ensemble once again, show him off on the town again, bring him home and strip him out of it again.

Hob, he knows, will let him do all of it willingly. Will participate joyously, with warmth and enthusiasm and that beautiful smile, with that bright sparkle in his eye, with heady delight in fulfilling Dream's wishes.

He is more than Dream deserves, and surely Dream will not be able to keep him forever. All things fade; once upon a time he had thought making Alex happy was the key to fulfillment, after all.

But he will keep Hob as long as he can, in whatever way he can and bask in their mutual happiness for as long as he can make it last.

= Started: 2/3/25 Drafted: 2/4/25 Posted: 2/5/25

Previously in the series, in case AO3 is down: Customer Service With Every Nerve Alive Loyalty Rewards Program Shift to Overdrive Love Machines in Harmony

[adrealucia]

New Beginnings

Summary: After relocating to the picturesque town of Puerto Lobos in Mexico, you quickly realize that your car is in dire need of repair. With little knowledge of local mechanics, a friendly neighbor recommends you visit Diaz’s Garage, run by the talented Sean Diaz. Sean, a hardworking and kind-hearted mechanic, welcomes you warmly. As he works on your car, you strike up a conversation, discovering that Sean and his brother Daniel moved to Puerto Lobos a few years ago, seeking peace and a new beginning after a tumultuous past. Sean’s dedication to his work is evident as he skillfully repairs your car. Meanwhile, Daniel, now sixteen, balances school and helps out around the garage. He occasionally joins in the conversation, displaying his sharp wit and curiosity about your life and experiences. As the days pass, you find yourself drawn to the garage, not just for the impeccable car service, but for the genuine companionship you find with Sean and Daniel. You start to learn more about their past, their dreams, and the close-knit bond that holds them together. In return, you share your own stories, finding solace and understanding in their company. tags: post Blood Brothers ending, Sean Diaz x Reader, might contain smut in future chapters, lots of fluff, romantic fluff, overall just fucking wholesome, obviously mentions Daniel quite often, sfw in the beginning, maybe nsfw in the future idk

Chapter one

The dusty road leading to Puerto Lobos was bathed in the golden light of the late afternoon sun. As you navigated your car through the narrow streets, the vibrant colors of the town's buildings and the sound of distant waves crashing against the shore offered a warm welcome. You had moved to this small coastal town in Mexico seeking a fresh start, a place where the past could be left behind and new memories could be made. It wasn’t easy getting here, but it was all worth it in the end. Just the thought of your beautiful small house right at the beach makes you feel accomplished and happy all over again. 

But today, your thoughts were dominated by the sputtering sound coming from your car. To be completely fair your car had gone a long way, all the way down from Washington to here, Puerto Lobos. With a frustrated sigh, you pulled over to the side of the road, glancing at the smoke wafting from the hood. Well, this certainly didn’t take very long. You have been having these kinds of problems with your car for a whole while now, but it’s never been this bad before. A friendly local had mentioned a reliable mechanic in town—Diaz’s Garage. You checked the address scribbled on a piece of paper “Oh that’s actually not far at all” you whispered to yourself and set off on foot, hoping that the mechanic could work his magic.

The garage was a modest but bustling place, filled with the scent of oil and the clinking sounds of tools. Inside, a tall young man with dark hair and a focused expression was working on a vintage truck. He looked up as you approached, wiping his hands on a rag and offering a welcoming smile. At first, you do not notice it but giving a closer look you notice that he is missing an eye. You wonder what had happened to him? 

"Hey there," he greeted, his eyes kind yet weary. "Can I help you with something?"

Relieved that he did not start speaking Spanish you gave him a thankful smile and you explained your car trouble, he nodded, introducing himself as Sean Diaz. As he listened, you couldn't help but notice the way he moved with quiet confidence, every action precise and efficient. It was clear that this garage was not just his workplace but his sanctuary.

You led him to your car, and with a few deft movements, he began diagnosing the problem. "Looks like it’s going to need some work, but nothing I can’t handle," he said reassuringly. "Why don’t you come back in a couple of hours? I should have it running smoothly by then." You sigh internally, it’s not like you thought that he would fix your car on the spot but you also did not really make a plan on what to do now. For a second you look around noticing you only ever drive through this part of down and have never actually explored it. Maybe you could find a nice place to sit down and have some food? 

“Thank you so much, I would have been totally lost if your shop hadn’t been near.” Thankfully you smile up at him again. It’s so good to finally meet someone who is actually fluent in English, even though practicing your Spanish can be fun as well. Usually, when you try to talk to natives they look at you all smiley and kind and the next thing they are doing is getting out their phone to open up the translator app. It’s kind of hard practicing your language skills when no one actually wants to try to communicate with you. But you are learning, just not as fast as you expected to, and since you already had a few years of Spanish classes in school you know most of the basics. You look up at the mechanic again and tilt your head a little bit to the side. “Say.. is there a good place for food around here? …that I can obviously reach by foot, that is.” He nods enthusiastically and gives you a reassuring tilt of his lips, a very kind smile. “Yea, actually just around the corner there is a little restaurant, if you don’t know about it I am sure many people would miss it. But when we moved here first this woman saved our asses. She doesn’t speak much English but just tell her I said hi and I bet she will cook you something very nice.” This actually sounds very nice you think to yourself and reach out your hand to give him a polite handshake. “Okay well thank you for the recommendation and also for trying to fix my car.” He accepts your handshake and chuckles lightly. “No worries and oh this should be easy to fix, gimme like let’s say two and a half hours and you can come back to a nice and well-working car.” 

“Alright see you in two and a half hours then.” You wave your hand as you are saying goodbye to him and turn around to walk the other way. The streets of Puerto Lobos were alive with activity—children playing, street vendors selling vibrant fruits and handmade crafts, and the distant sound of a song coming from speakers out of one of these stores adding a festive backdrop to the scene. As you wandered, you felt the first inklings of belonging in this charming town. He told you that the little restaurant was just around the corner but honestly as much as you were looking for it you could not find it. Well, Mr. Diaz also mentioned that if you didn’t know that it’s there you would surely miss it. You knew about these types of Restaurants where it kind of almost looked like you would walk into somebody’s actual home, so you decided to try and look around as if you were a native to this city. Which in theory was easy, but actually doing it didn’t change the fact that you are in fact not a fucking native. Suddenly the smell of fresh herbs and spices caught your nose and you looked around trying to figure out where this smell came from. After looking around for a while you actually found a little house that grasped your interest. The door was wide open and from the outside, you could see a tiny woman cooking something up. “That must be it.” 

Okay, now it would be time to pray that this woman would also actually understand what you want from her. “Please please, school just pay out this once.” you form your hands into a little prayer position as you walk up to the door. 

“Hola.” You say stepping into the little restaurant. The woman looks up at you and goes back to whatever she was doing before. Okay… she definitely knows that you are not from around here, so now you gotta use your poor Spanish skills, your hands, and your feet. This is going to be fucking embarrassing. 

“¿Puedo conseguir algo de comer aquí?” (can I get something to eat?) You ask while trying to do your best at pantomime. “Well, Mr. Diaz said you wouldn’t understand any English but he told me to say hi to you.” you felt like a total idiot talking English to this woman who obviously has no clue what you are trying to tell her. Though, as you say the name Diaz her head perks up and suddenly a lot of words that you do not understand are leaving her mouth at the speed of light. At first, you are a little unsure if she is mad and seconds away from kicking you out, but then she gives you a big smile and gestures to you to sit down. “Friend? Sean Diaz?” She asks with a heavy accent but you have no problem understanding that one word and the name of the mechanic. “Ah, Sí…” you say and nod your head while sitting down on one of the tables. She continues to speak Spanish but she doesn’t even really seem like she is trying to talk to you, more like she is talking to herself, so you are also not really trying to answer her. 

It doesn’t even take her long before she places a beverage on your table and makes a gesture that shows you should wait some more. It is a hot day so you thank her enthusiastically and take one sip of the drink that immediately helps against your dry throat. You have absolutely no clue what’s in this drink but you couldn’t bother less, this was fucking good. 

A few more minutes passed and the lady set down three big ass plates in front of you. Oh, how are you supposed to finish all of that? 

You ate as much as you could and thanked the woman like five times because Sean Diaz was right. She is a hell of a good cook. In the end, you couldn’t finish all three plates and had a bunch of leftovers, however, you decided it might be nice to bring these leftovers with you back to the Diaz shop. That would be nice of you and totally not weird right? 

Now just how were you going to ask her for bags? 

It took some time but in the end, you just had to mention Sean’s name one more time, probably paid her way too much money and somehow you ended up with a bag and even more food. She put some dessert into the bag as well, even though you tried to stop her but honestly, you wouldn’t have wanted to put up a fight against this lady. 

 When you returned to the garage, the sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the floor. Sean was just finishing up with your car, and beside him stood a younger boy with a mischievous grin. He was animatedly talking about his day at school, and Sean listened with the patience and attention of someone who deeply cared.

"Hey, you’re back…just in time," Sean called out, noticing your approach. "This is my brother, Daniel."

Daniel turned to you, his eyes sparkling with curiosity. "Hi! Sean fixed your car already? He's really good at this stuff."

You smiled, introducing yourself and thanking Sean for his help. “You found the restaurant?” he asked, smiling sheepishly down at you. For a second you could feel yourself blush, but why? “Yea took me some time… also I hope this is not weird or anything but I brought you my leftovers plus additional dessert. This lady must really love you because as soon as I said your name she stuffed these cakes into the bag.” Daniels’s mouth opened wide as he walked towards you, eyes fixated on the bag. “Woah I love Mrs. Perez and this is so kind of you because you must know my brother is a horrible cook.” Sean laughed so loud and kind-heartedly it seemed to warm your insides. They really seem to be nice people. “Well, she knows I am a bad cook, that's why she filled up this whole bag.” his loud laughing swelled down to a little chuckle. “Well… that’s very kind of you… actually, I haven’t asked your name yet, have I?” 

You shake your head and give him a reassuring smile, you couldn’t care less right now if this man asked you for your name because he already fixed your car and he made sure you got a shit ton of very good food. “Oh, I am (Y/N)” You set the bag down on a nearby table and watch as Daniel immediately goes to grab it and rummages through the bag. “Oh look Sean, she gave us Tarta de Queso!” 

You and Sean both couldn’t help but laugh a little at Daniel, even though he looked around sixteen to seventeen he still seemed to be very excited when it came to dessert. “Well, Daniel I think it would only be nice to share some of this cake with (Y/N) since she is the one responsible for our dinner.” He pointed at the cake and then over to you. You wouldn’t have brought it up but you also couldn’t lie, you really wanted to try a piece of this really delicious-looking cake. Daniel sighed but chuckled a bit “That only seems fair.” 

“Now I am going to pack this piece of cake up for you and then we will let you go, I am sure you have somewhere to be.” Said Sean as he took the bag and left you and Daniel alone in the garage. You and Daniel made some polite small talk, mostly talking about past experiences with the lady - or Mrs. Perez as you learned - from the restaurant. 

Sean didn’t take long and came back to hand you your very own bag filled with some cake and also a few more pastries. He gave you a little wink and placed a finger to his lips, showing you to keep quiet probably because of Daniel. He also handed you the keys to your now-repaired car. "It should be as good as new. If you have any more trouble, just come by." “Thank you so so much, I wouldn’t know what I would have done without you today.” You sigh and grab your keys. “How much do I owe you for this?” You gesture to the car, knowing that you most definitely don’t have enough cash on you. Sean just chuckled and shook his head. “Ah don’t worry the first time is on the house… also you brought us this whole bag of food.” 

Your eyes widen in disbelief, on the house? Wow, these people really are kind. “Oh, this is…” You’re lost for words for a second. “This is really really kind of you thank you so much.” 

“Oh, don’t worry, I like to help people out. Now if you ever need something just let us know.” He said as you slowly got into your car, nodded, and smiled up big at him. You wave to him and Daniel goodbye as you gently drive out of the garage. 

As you drove away, you couldn’t help but feel a connection forming. In this new place, amidst the beauty and simplicity of Puerto Lobos, you had found not just a skilled mechanic but potential friends in Sean and Daniel Diaz. Little did you know, this encounter was just the beginning of a journey that would intertwine your lives in ways you could never have imagined. authors note: omg okay I am so fucking nervous to post this, but also kind of excited!! I have been meaning to write a fic for quite some time now and I am so so happy to continue this story. If you've made it this far tysm and ily <3 I hope you liked the first chapter of my new story :) I already published it on ao3 (this was so tough to figure out since I never uploaded it on ao3 before) and I am still debating whether or not to post it on Wattpad as well. Anyway even though I am working on this fic now my requests are still open! might take me some time to finish them now, but I am so happy to be a part of this community :) <333

[flowerandblood]

The Price of Dignity

[ dark academia • Aemond x rich • female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, class inequalities ]

[ description: Aemond worked his whole life to get into the best university in the country. The class inequality he sees there strikes him, and the target of his hatred is a female classmate from his year, a rich girl from a wealthy family. However, it turns out that what was obvious to him is not so simple and he has to face the consequences of his own decisions. A lot of angst, bitchy, violent, mean Aemond. ]

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He very quickly came to terms with the fact that life is not fair. He understood this when he watched his mother, worried, choosing between buying him a new sweatshirt and buying him a new textbook for school, between paying the heating bills and a new bed so they wouldn't all have to fit into one with an old, yellow mattress.

They didn't starve, they didn't walk around dirty, their mother made sure they looked like decent people, however, they were always lacking things, always had too little money for something.

Although his mother worked two jobs at school, she didn't earn as much as his friend's mother, who bought her T-shirts with Disney cartoon characters, had a whole pencil case of glitter pens and expensive chocolate croissants for her second breakfast.

He envied her and one day, when she wasn't looking, he stole her pensieve and threw it in the rubbish. She cried all day because of this, the pencil case was eventually found, however, she didn't want it anymore because it stank.

The next day she came to school with a new pencil case, even prettier.

From then on he decided that whatever he did would not change anything, so he chose not to worry about it and to stay away from such people. He was repulsed by their feeling that they could look down on him, that they were proud to have new, fashionable things, as if there was any merit in it.

They just got it and he didn't.

Something that could not be bought was intelligence, and he did not lack it.

Therefore, he decided to concentrate on his studies, spending whole days in the school library, borrowing thick, worn-out books to take home, having no money to buy new ones in the bookshop. He set himself the goal of getting into a degree in classical literature at the best, most prestigious university in the country by virtue of his academic results, to win a scholarship.

His mother was horrified by the idea, having no clue how she would help him pay for his stay in the capital, where everything was several times more expensive than in their city.

Not wanting to burden her more, to her despair, after high school classes he would go to work for a friend who ran a car repair shop, working as his helper, every paycheck saved up for his plan.

He felt like he was obsessed with it and did not accept the possibility that he might not succeed.

When applying for a scholarship, in addition to a written essay of at least a hundred pages about his favourite author, he had to appear in person for an interview.

Specially for this occasion, he bought himself an expensive shirt, smart trousers and a suit jacket for the first time and, dressed like this, went there with a beating heart.

The professors sitting in front of him seemed tired and weary of their work, sipping tea from beautiful, surely very expensive, porcelain cups. He looked at them trying to hide the disgust on his face, listening to their questions, which turned out to be trivially easy.

He saw how he was arousing their interest more and more with every minute with his attitude, they started asking him about his life, where he came from.

He sold them the heart-wrenching story of his childhood, the tale of his accident involving his nephew, through which he lost his eye, and then his slow road to the top, presenting himself as a young boy with dreams who had worked so hard for his success.

To his surprise it worked, and after a week he received a letter confirming that he had been awarded a scholarship and a place on his dream faculty.

He cried like a baby reading it several times, glad that no one was home at the time, feeling that he had finally managed to win something for himself in his life.

His mother burst with pride when she found out, while at the same time fearing how he would cope in this group, full of aristocrats and children of rich parents who could afford to simply buy them a place there.

He figured he would destroy them all, show them for who they really were.

He felt within himself some great need for revenge and atonement, although he did not know quite how he was supposed to express it.

He spotted his perfect target at the first meeting of his year with the professor who was to be their mentor during their stay at the University.

Despite the fact that they were all sitting in the same elegant uniforms with the intricate gold crest of their university, he saw that she was holding the latest model of phone in her hands, a beautiful gold ring with a sapphire on her middle finger and an old, expensive watch, surely inherited from some very wealthy and famous great-grandfather.

It came to his ears very quickly that her surname, Howard, was due to her grandfather on her father's side, the baron who had been given that title, which her family had boasted of ever since, living in their mansion in a village near the capital.

He looked at her and thought only of the fact that she was a fucking nepotistic, spoilt brat who never had to earn anything, who was taking the place of someone who really deserved it.

He very quickly caught a good rapport with a boy similar to himself, also from a small town from a working-class family, Criston. Like him, he owed his place to his education and scholarship, although he was not as harsh as he was in his assessment of their new friend.

"Oh, come on. Just concentrate on being content that you're here." He said one evening as they prepared for their first classes together. They were sitting in large, comfortable armchairs by the fireplace in the university's huge library filled with old, oak bookcases reaching the ceiling, filled to the brim with thick, dusty tomes.

He instantly fell in love with the place and only dreamed of spending whole evenings there, imagining how other students, writers and poets sat in his place. He hummed at his words, turning the page of the book he had just read, a history of ancient Greek literature.

"I'm concentrating on this, but when I look at her, I just feel sick. She's only here so her daddy baron can show off his daughter at the University. I have no respect for her and don't think she deserves any. The fact that she is here is a joke and one big misunderstanding." He muttered lowly, Criston sighed heavily, shaking his head, not having the strength to argue with him.

They both flinched when they heard someone's quiet footsteps, the figure of Howard appeared from among the bookcases with several books clutched to her chest and headed immediately for her entrance, her face pale, her lips clenched.

He swallowed loudly, feeling the cold sweat on his back at the thought that she had heard it all, and although he thought it was good for her that he had told the truth out loud, a sense of shame overcame him anyway.

Criston threw him a confused, horrified look and he lowered his gaze and grunted, letting out a loud breath, returning to his reading, recognising that the words of someone like him were meaningless to her anyway.

The next day was their first class with Professor Morris, in which they were to study Greek literature of the Classical, Hellenistic and Empire eras. Their professor, a short, smiling old man with big glasses, spoke with enthusiasm and energy surprisingly high for his age, introducing them to the subject and telling them what they would be working on first.

He said they would start with something simple, a collection of myths that, although passed down through generations and written down very late in history, were a source of inspiration that still stirred the minds of young artists and writers today.

He began with a question about who the Greek gods were in Greek mythology, Howard's hand shot up before he could think of anything.

"As far as the Olympian gods are concerned, they were imagined as humans, or rather the inhabitants of Hellada with the difference that they were immortal by drinking ambrosia and had various powers." She said quickly, their professor nodding at her words.

"That is true, Miss Howard. Why were they imagined as human beings and not, like the Christian God, as a superior, infallible entity?"

Howard's hand shot up again and he pressed his lips together, looking at her impatiently.

Stupid bitch.

"Because they were supposed to be the answer to what was happening around the living population, they were not the determinant of moral values, like the Christian God, but more like guardians whose care had to be constantly sought.

They loved and hated like ordinary people, they were eager for revenge, murder and rape, so they did not represent a pattern of behaviour, but rather depicted the unpredictability of nature and events in human life." She said without stammering, and he let out a loud breath, impatient.

She was doing this on purpose.

She wanted to prove him wrong.

He spent whole evenings reading and preparing for class and in the days that followed, he began to overtake her, watching with satisfaction as she turned to him over her shoulder with furrowed brows, impatient when it was him that their professor allowed to speak and not her.

They were at war.

He saw that she had her two friends with whom she went everywhere, naive girls from good homes who clung to her to wallow in her luxuries.

He felt like laughing at this sight.

He had the feeling that it was getting worse by the week, they were throwing hateful glances at each other in the corridors and shunning each other in the common rooms and the library, not wanting to bump into each other by accident.

He knew she was doing this to prove him wrong, to make herself feel the best again rather than because she was interested in literature.

After the first exams they both had very similar scores, but he felt a sense of pride when he saw on the posted list that he had scored one point more than her, a grimace of satisfaction showed on his face as he glanced in her direction indulgently.

Even though she had second place right after him she turned and walked towards the women's dormitory, clearly frustrated, making him feel better for the day.

And that's when he appeared.

Ronald Collins, a blushing man with slight curves, looking as if he was living in some sort of dreamy state had been introduced to them in class with their tutor and it appeared that he would be joining them mid-year.

No one understood how he managed to achieve this, he didn't look like a wealthy man, he smiled at everyone as if he were a priest at a sermon, with tenderness and care, as if he lived in a completely different reality. He and Criston would sometimes see him sitting on the cloisters with a notebook in his hand, gesticulating and talking to himself as if he were some inspired 19th century poet.

"What the fuck is his problem?" He muttered to Cole, recognising that this man was out of his mind.

In their first class together, however, he proved to them that he was something far more dangerous.

"Shakespeare. Romeo and Juliet. Trash and kitsch, or sincere, sudden, fiery true love? There are different thoughts about this world-famous work today. What is your opinion?"

He and Howard automatically raised their hand, but Collins preceded them. The professor allowed him to speak first and, to everyone's surprise, he stood up, looking around the room.

"Pontius Pilate asked Christ - what is truth? But I ask you - what is love?! Is there only one kind of love? When we truly love, can we be so desperate as to reach for the finality, for death itself?" He asked, stretching his hand out in front of him, sweeping it in a semi-circle as if he was showing something, a few people couldn't stand it and laughed under their breath, Howard turned to him over her shoulder, looking at him with big eyes in disbelief, and he looked at her feeling that he looked exactly like her.

What the fuck was that supposed to be?

He bullshitted his way through the next five minutes until their professor decided he'd had enough.

However, what horrified him the most was the results of his first exam, which he saw on a list posted for all students outside the room.

100/100 points Mr Collins 94/100 points Mr Targaryen 94/100 points Miss Howard

What?

"What?!" He heard a familiar voice beside him, Howard stepped closer to the glass as if she couldn't believe her eyes.

She threw him a quick, helpless look as if she wanted him to tell her what had just happened here, but he himself had no idea how that was possible.

How could this fucking moron get such a good score?

"Ah, my sweet rivals!" They heard a voice behind them and turned around, Collins was looking contentedly at his score from over their shoulders, blushing, smiling and dreamy as usual, he could see from so close up that despite his young age he was slowly starting to go bald.

"Miss Howard and Mr Targaryen, the age-old battle between the aristocracy and the working class. So dramatic, solemn, full of contradictions. Love - hate - or perhaps cold calculation? Like Athena and Arachne, like Aphrodite and Persephone, like Achilles and Hector!" He said grabbing Howard's arm and she shook her head, completely surprised, not believing that he dared to say such things out loud.

"− Achilles and Hector didn't −" She began, but he interrupted her, looking up, as if suddenly dazzled.

"− no − Romeo and Juliet − separated lovers − they don't even know yet that tragedy awaits them, that they will not be given the chance to be reunited − but nevertheless this feeling, this will to fight will always prevail." He said worriedly and shook her, as if he wanted to make her realise how serious his prophetic words were, and then he left, wishing them a good day.

They stood horrified, he saw her look at her arms, as if she might have been contaminated by him just a moment ago.

"− oh God −" She muttered, lowering her hands without strength. "− he's an idiot −"

Their war was put on hold as they were forced to turn their gazes to a new enemy, more dangerous and more unpredictable, turning their joint lectures into a nightmare, for some reason having perfect scores on all their exams.

How was it possible that he was always a few points short and he passed everything with the highest score?

He decided to hide in the library as usual, tired and frustrated, and clenched his eyes when he saw that in his armchair, hidden between a few bookcases so that he couldn't be seen from a distance, sat Howard, reading a book even though it was his favourite place and she knew it perfectly well.

"Get the fuck out." He said to her straight out, towering over her with an angry look. She furrowed her brow and pressed her lips together.

"No. That moron is still after me, and he won't find me here. I was here first." She said angrily and turned the page with a quick, theatrical gesture.

He leaned over her resting his hands on either side of her body on the armrests of her armchair, looking at her face from so close that the tips of their noses were almost touching.

"Get. The fuck. Out." He hissed low.

"Fuck. No." She hissed parroting his tone, he grabbed her hard by her arm, trying to pull her out of there, but she immediately lifted her leg and kicked him in the stomach.

He bent down and growled, grabbing her ankle.

"You little spoiled bitch." He snorted, pulling her so that she just fell off the armchair, ignoring the fact that it made her skirt roll up and he could almost see her panties. "You think if your daddy pays for your studies, you're allowed everything?"

In response, he was hit on the head with the book she had just been reading, grabbed his forehead and shouted in pain, closing his eyes.

"Fuck off! I'm studying here as hard as you are!" She snarled furiously, wanting to throw the other book at him, but he grabbed her arms and blocked her movements. They were both panting loudly fighting each other, she tried to hit him with her knee, but he pinned her down with his body.

"Yeah? Oh what a poor girl. She studies as hard as I do. She never had to earn anything, she didn't have to work for long fucking hours after school, studying late to earn a living here, she didn't have to write a 100-page essay to get here, beg the university authorities to give her a scholarship." He hissed out looking at her with hatred, not letting her get away, feeling that he was just pouring out everything he had felt over the years, all the loathing he had for her and people like her.

She stopped fighting him and pressed her lips together, her eyebrows at the same time furrowed in a grimace of pain and sadness, her lower lip began to tremble at his words, her eyes turned red and glazed over from tears.

"Oh, are you going to cry? Are you going to fucking cry now? The poor rich little girl is going to cry because she heard a few words of truth?" He asked in a mocking, sweet voice as if he was speaking to a small child who still doesn't understand much and needs to be explained slowly.

"Fuck off." She exhaled with difficulty, already with less certainty, trying to push him away but to no avail, his hands clenched tighter on her shoulders, her body pressed against the armchair so that she was unable to make any movement, her cheeks red with exertion.

"You're not so snarky anymore? Well, please tell me, how did you earn your place here? Let me guess, you told your daddy - daddy, I would like to study here - will you pay my tuition fees? Hm? Is that how it was? I know, you worked so terribly hard for it." He sneered, arching his eyebrows in a gesture as if he really felt sorry for her, and she burst out crying, looking up at him from below, breathing hard.

"− I wanted to study here because I'm interested in literature, and my dad helped me − what the fuck is your problem? −" She mumbled out almost choking, and he clenched his jaw, his nostrils moving restlessly in rage.

"− my problem is that you've taken the place of someone who's worked all their life for it − some poor boy or girl who didn't have your father's money − the university authorities prefer your money to their knowledge −"

"− then why don't you go and yell at the rector for it? − won't you go to the dean and name some person to take my place, tell them that they are only after my money? − I'll tell you why − thanks to my father's money you can be here for free − thanks to my father's money you'll be able to do your PhD and do your research −" She laughed desperately through her tears, looking at him in disbelief, seeing him turn pale, his lower lip trembling in rage.

"− you didn't know? − you thought our country was paying for your place here, your uniform, your room? − no − but you're right about one thing − you've earned this place harder than I have −" She said emotionlessly, looking at him with a blank stare, and he felt unable to get a word out, his throat tightened, he felt like he was about to vomit, humiliation and rage spreading through his body.

"− you don't know anything about me − you've been insulting me ever since you got here, even though I'm the one you feel sorry for, you're the one carrying yourself like a king, looking down on everyone − and I thought that maybe things would get better, that maybe we'd even become friends − you're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants −" She hissed, pushing him away from her, he stepped back, turning his head away, not looking at her as she picked up her book from the floor and moved ahead, disappearing around the corner.

He slid his back down the bookcase and sat on the floor, burying his face in his hands, feeling that he was trembling all over.

You're a mere brutal boor who thinks he can take it out on whoever he wants.

_____

Aemond Taglist:

(bold means I couldn't tag you)

@its-actually-minicika @notnormalthings-blog @nikstrange @zenka69 @bellaisasleep @k-y-r-a-1 @g-cf2020 @melsunshine @opheliaas-stuff @chainsawsangel @iiamthehybrid @tinykryptonitewerewolf @namoreno @malfoytargaryen @qyburnsghost @aemondsdelight @persephonerinyes @fan-goddess @sweethoneyblossom1 @watercolorskyy @randomdragonfires @apollonshootafar @padfooteyes

[sketchy-noodles]

More SCU!100 Days Headcannons

Yes hi hello, it’s me again I’m back. The Minecraft apocalypse brainrot has dug its claws into me once again and now I must scream.

Link to my first HC/What-if post if you’d like it

ALRIGHT WITHOUT FURTHER ADO…… the ramblings of a madwoman:

——————————————————————————

• Inspired by someone who reblogged my last post, not only does Florida Man bake, he also makes edibles and weed brownies

• SCU!Tommy has mistaken Florida Man’s weed brownies for normal brownies multiple times and Charlie has had to deal with a zombified teenager high off his ass on far too many occasions

• After SCU!Condi is zombified, his rats still follow him around. Even though they’d make an easy food source, Condi has never moved to eat them

• SCU!Charlie is immune to the zombie virus. He discovered this pretty early on in his 100 day adventure but never really saw the point in mentioning it to anyone (it doesn’t really offer him any specific advantages like being able to easily move through hoards or anything like that. If the zombies are hungry, they’ll still tear him apart for food. So he still has to be careful)

• SCU!Tommy isn’t really a fan of any of Charlie’s pals (he doesn’t know them well enough and they don’t really seem to see him as a threat), but Wizzly is the only one he’s genuinely afraid of

• Wizzly is constantly spouting cryptic shit. They’re genuinely not sure if he’s roleplaying, having some kind of sudden old man epiphany, or if he’s genuinely just insane and spouting off nonsense. Charlie isn’t even sure who this man is anymore. Is he even a LARPer or is he some kind of wacky dimension hopper instead?!?! The world may never know…….

• Wizzly has absolutely tried getting the others into “roleplaying”/magic. It hasn’t caught on. They don’t really get it. Charlie has shown an interest in potion-making though!!! So that’s exciting!

• Speaking of SCU!Charlie and Wizzly, Charlie has….. mixed feelings about the man. When he looks at him, sometimes Charlie’s mind goes a little fuzzy and images will flash through his mind. Of joy and brotherhood. Of guilt and betrayal. Of different times in another life. But it’s all very fuzzy and he can’t seem to grasp any of the memories for more than a few seconds before they’re gone.

• When Tommy comes to visit Charlie & Co. after being gone for a while, he usually comes alone if he wants to hang out or taunt them. But if he shows up with “friends”, he’s absolutely set on trying to kill everyone again

• Wizzly and SCU!Condi both definitely have some memories from Molympus as well. They both subconsciously recognized Charlie the moment they first met him even though they knew they’d never met the man before

• Ronald spends most of his time out of the base and scouting. But when he does come back, it’s usually with puzzles, games, books (usually about things like sustainability, DIY home projects, gardening), etc.

• Ronald is also the group’s resident mechanic/tech guy!!! He’s better at car and vehicle stuff, but he’s managed to get a few TVs, radios, and generators working!

• Wizzly made it a point to plant poppies all around the base of his tower. They’re very pretty but they makes Charlie a little sad when he sees them for some reason

• Ronald also does a lot of household repairs. Charlie and Co. tend to break things….. a lot.

• SCU!Tommy constantly has butterflies following him around

• Ronald has his own “radio show” where he essentially goes onto a radio channel and babbles about his conspiracy theories to anyone who might happen to be listening. He also does a lot of record-keeping

• Charlie still gets a little paranoid every time he sees an apple or a stray ram/goat during his adventures. Naturally he knows they should be harmless but…….

——————————————————————————

ITS BEEN SO LONG BUT I HAVE SO MANY THOUGHTS OKAY?!?! SO MANY

[quigzahhutt]

26 and sargebon for the kiss writing prompt pls pls pls

after everything that's happened I just want these boys to kiss

for the kiss prompt ask game

26. "as an apology"

Logan was sitting alone on a row of plastic lawn chairs outside of the medical center, and Alex has never desired proximity so much before.

He wasn't a touchy person– neither of them are, really, but Logan seems to cherish it more than Alex does. It's an inexplicable feeling, wanting to be close to him, to be able to see the sunburn on the bridge of his nose and count his teeth individually.

The crash was bad. It's always hard watching crashes back, obviously, especially if its of your teammate; but for some reason, some fucking reason, Logan always serves to make Alex's heart bunch up in his throat, flutter against his ribs in a way that makes him nauseous unlike any teammate he's had before.

He had heard the murmurs in the garage, the muffled 'fucks sakes' from the engineers, and it made him furious– that's how he ended up here, because he had stormed off, sick of the whispers that felt like they echoed around the cold walls of the garage.

And it's worse, because he gets why they're frustrated; he understands that car repairs are not easy, especially just before quali when the foreboding and impossible task is tossed into your lap, expecting to be finished in time. He knows he's being immature.

Logan avoids looking at Alex as he walks over, even though he knows Logan spots him, based on the way his eyes flick up and down before focusing back on his lap. His leg is bobbing up and down rapidly, and his hand keeps moving up to tug his hair out of the way.

Logan still won't look at him when he slips into the flimsy lawn chair on his left.

Neither of them say anything at first; Alex almost gets up and leaves until he remembers why he's here, that this might be his last opportunity.

"I was scared for you," Alex says, hushed in worry that there might be people around them, listening in trying to find something to write an unnecessary article about.

"Sure, everyone was," Logan responds coldly, and something dangerous zips up Alex's spine up to his temples.

"No- I'm sick of you acting like this! I was worried, my stomach was in knots when you weren't jumping out, Logan, fuck sakes," He tries not to raise his voice, he tries, but Logan has been brushing him off at every confrontation, and Alex is sick of it.

They fall into silence for a bit, and Alex can see Logan's hands toying with each other in his lap, rubbing soothingly at the thumb on his left hand. Guilt begins creeping into his cheeks, and Alex is almost apologizing until Logan starts speaking.

"I wasn't hurt too bad, my thumb is a bit sore but it's nothing concerning. I'm sorry." It's so quiet that he almost doesn't catch it.

Alex doesn't know what he's apologizing for, either, or why it seems like Logan means something else by it. Before he can stop himself, he reaches over and takes Logan's hand in his own, brushing his thumb over the pink knuckles on his left hand.

"I'm glad you're okay," Alex breathes, "the fire was really scary," it feels like a confession.

Logan shifts next to him, wiggles around so he can face Alex better. He moves his arm too, leans it against the plastic arm rests, gives him more access to his wrist for some unknown reason.

Alex indulges, wraps his hand around Logan's, finagles their fingers so he can lock them together. It's entirely too intimate, and he can see Logan looking at him, giving him a quizzical look in his peripheral, but it's good, it's all he's ever wanted.

"You shouldn't be apologizing," Alex practically whispers, seemingly more to himself than anyone, his eyes pointed toward the ground.

"Neither of us are talking about the crash anymore, I don't think," Logan states, and Alex sighs in reply, looking over at Logan for what feels like the first time since this morning.

He looks absolutely exhausted, his eyes vaguely bruised, sunken in like they always get after a crash. He's so different from the kid that joined the team just a year ago, the kid that Alex has been mourning since February.

He's bigger now, scruffier around the chin and hardened in a way that could only happen after a year like this; mentally draining, completely damaging to your psyche.

His unoccupied hand is on Logan's jaw before he can stop himself, and their lips are against each other in no time.

Logan's beard feels weird against his own, clean-shaven skin, and the arm rests dig into his elbows almost painfully as he drapes himself over the space between them.

He definitely caught Logan off guard, because he's already pulling away, breathing heavily like he was just under water. The realization of what he just did thunks heavily in his stomach, and Alex is about to lean away, until a hand is on the back of his neck, pulling him back into the kiss.

Alex practically falls into it this time, caught by surprise the same way Logan probably was before. The hard plastic of the chairs digs into the soft meat of his waist, and the hand on his neck is a solid weight that grounds him to the present, holds him in the moment like the seatbelts in his car.

He unclasps his hand from Logan's and moves it to the side of his face, cradling his jaw with both hands now. He pours every feeling, every emotion from the last 5 months into it, licks against Logan's lips in an apology he can't articulate.

Months of avoiding confrontation, of ignoring the growing tension between them now unfurling between their mouths. Alex tongues his way into Logan's lips, his mouth falling open obediently, and it gives him the opportunity to make up lost time. He should have done this forever ago.

Not the kiss, necessarily, but the apology– the kiss is a bonus, though.

His guilt leaks into the motion of his tongue, too. As the older driver, he should have been the one to keep the peace, to ensure his teammate was comfortable, that he felt okay enough to ask for help.

But he didn't. And now it's too late.

Im grieving their relationship already

[ewanmitchellconnoisseur]

Mɪᴛᴄʜᴇʟʟ Esᴛᴀᴛᴇs (Chapter 1) "Mᴏᴠɪɴɢ Iɴ"

EwanMitchell Verse x F!Reader

A/N: Hello! This is the first chapter of my Mitchell Estates Series! This chapter is for introduction so not much going on! //Dividers by@firefly-graphics

Summary: You finally arrive at what will be your new home. You hope this fresh start will be able to bring you some peace and less drama in your life.

Tw: Nothing!

Word Count: 1.8k

Masterlist • Next Chapter → (WIP)

The road feels never-ending. Everything moving outside of the car feels like a blur and you feel as if you're driving in a fishbowl.

Your eyelids feel like they're being weighed down. You've gotten to the point where you've imagined taping them open. Constantly feeling the need to shake your head as you try to stay awake.

You've spent the entire day packing, and loading all your belongings to your new apartment all on 2 hours of sleep. The cost of movers was not an expense you were willing to pay, the truck itself was already putting a dent in your wallet.

"Your destination is on the right."

You turn on your signals and carefully pull into the small building complex.

It wasn't an easy find. A friend of yours luckily knew the person who had just moved out and managed to get in contact with the landlord before they could give the space to anyone else.

It was an old Motel that had been renovated into apartments, though, it still looked like it was a motel.

You pull into a random parking spot near a smaller building that looks to be the office. It feels good to finally put the car in park and unbuckle.

"Fucking finally" You lean your head back on the headrest and close your eyes just for a second. You listen to the sounds of the cars passing by and the music coming from your radio on low. You had work until 2 in the morning, a rare occurrence, they needed help and you needed the money. And it was only natural that when you finally got home at 3 your neighbours were having sex loudly followed by someone being a dick revving their engine outside the building. You ended up falling asleep at 5 but had to be up by 7 to start packing.

As you relax in your car someone comes and knocks on the window. You look out it to see a man standing there with a clipboard. Annoyed, you hold the button to roll down the window.

"Yes?" He eyes you for a moment not saying anything simply looking between his clipboard and you. You notice his eyes go to your chest then your lips.

Fucking creep.

"You're late." He stares at you and then looks down at his watch. "You were supposed to be here 5 minutes ago." He sighs angrily and starts flipping through pages on his clipboard.

"Sorry, there was traffic." You apologize to which he just rolls his eyes.

What the fuck is up his ass?

Technically you were 3 minutes late since you spent 2 minutes taking a breather. Either way, 5 minutes is not that big of a deal.

"Are you going to get out of the car or am I supposed to give you the tour from here?" He chews his gum like one of the cocky guys that come up to you in bars who act as if they're walking around with the biggest dicks on the planet. You sigh and glare at him as you press the button to slowly roll up the window while staring into his soul.

Once it's up you take the keys out of the ignition, grab your bag and step out of your car. It belonged to your dad, it had been all banged up so you had to get it repaired but it was worth it. It was probably the most expensive thing you owned.

You look around now that you're out and fully take in the building. They did a pretty good job at not making it look like a motel the vibrant blue and orange colours of the doors paired with the black finishings as well as the white walls just made it all pop. You could tell the trees were just recently planted and the gardens were actually tended to.

For a moment you had been worried the place your friend found would be a dump considering the side of town it was on and the price of the rent. You were in too much of a desperate situation to come to look at the apartment itself so you had no other choice but

"Any day now..." You look over at the man who is glaring daggers at you. You take in his appearance now that you can see him better. He's wearing a pair of dark blue jeans and a red sweater. You notice that just above the neckline you can catch a glimpse of a tattoo on the side of his neck. He's cute you'd give him that, but the cutest thing about him has to be that nose. Your thoughts grew a little lewd as you thought about riding his face. His nose perfectly nuzzling against your clit.

Why are the hot ones always so fucking rude?

You close your door, locking the car a couple times before following him.

"You're in B3. Thats the second floor, unit 3." He walks over to that office-like building you noticed earlier and leads you inside, holding the door open.

At least he has some fucking manners.

You take a seat across from the desk as he walks around and sits down in front of you while going through the desk drawers. "No loud noises past 11pm, no pets if it's not on your lease, no in-unit laundry machines, no renovations without clearance."

He finally finds what he's looking for. He pulls out a lanyard, attached to it are 2 sets of keys, a laminated pass and a plastic card. The lanyard itself is decorated with the building's name Mitchell Estates and two phone numbers.

"You only get two keys. If you lose them you owe me 30$ for a new one. The pass gets hung up in your car. If I see no pass and no paid ticket I tow the car. The plastic card is your laundry card. The lanyard has my phone number, don't call me, I promise whatever it is I don't care enough to answer. There is also the maintenance number, call him." He speaks with a dead look on his face and no emotion.

He stands up and walks over to the door and holds it open waiting for you to get up and follow him out. You grab your bag stand up and follow him out of the building. He begins leading you over to the actual apartment.

"The spot you're parked in now is empty so you can have it. Over there is the laundry rooms." He points to the left side of the building, you see a boy and a child walk out dragging baskets behind them. "There are garbage shutes on every floor. Recycling is at the back of the buildings. Those vending machines work." You look over to the vending machines and see some guy leaning against it while smoking. He gives you a grin before stomping out his cigarette and walking into his unit. You try to keep up with the Landlord but frankly, he's walking so fast like he's trying to get rid of you.

You follow him upstairs below you see someone walk into the complex and look toward you. He's wearing glasses and a burgundy cardigan paired with cargo pants. He notices you but quickly looks away.

"Over here is yours." He walks you over to a unit. As you get to the door he searches for the keys, a man comes up the stairs and goes into the unit next to you. You notice the cases of beer he's carrying and a tattoo of a horse on his bicep.

He finally finds the right key and unlocks the door. "Over there on the counter is a copy of the rental agreement. Sign it and drop it off by tomorrow. Rent is due on the first of every month. I don't make exceptions and I don't care for sob stories. If you can't pay I call the police. I trust we will have no issues?" He eyes you up and down again.

Isn't he just a ray of sunshine ladies and gentlemen?

"No need to worry. I don't plan on causing any problems." He nods his head and turns to leave. "Wait," you call after him and he turns back around with an annoyed look. You put out your hand and introduce yourself. "Your name is?"

He looks down at your hand and then back up at you.

"Ettore." With that, he's out your door slamming it behind him.

An hour later the moving truck arrived. Your friends hopped out and began helping you unload your stuff. Since you couldn't afford it on your own and they needed a truck too, you split the cost.

One of your friends stops to look around quickly before walking back over to the truck.

"Wow. It's actually nice." Boyse blocks the sun from her eyes as she looks up at the building. "And that man up there is hot."

You look to see who she's looking at. You see the man before who lives next to you leaning on the railing while drinking a beer. He takes another sip before turning around and going back into his apartment.

"How...kind...and I wouldn't call it nice. It's...an improvement." Boyse rolled her eyes at Farleigh's statement. "I guess considering how it looked before...I can see the appeal." He lowered and handed down a box from inside the truck.

"For $900 a month. Im just fine with how it looks." When Farleigh told you the price even you were shocked in this day and age you were looking at about $2k for more apartments. "Now come on and help me get these boxes upstairs. Im not paying a late fee for this truck." You grabbed a box.

The three of you spent the next 2 hours unloading the truck and then unpacking your stuff. You didn't have much since you were only renting a bedroom before but luckily you had good friends who would be bringing by furniture to help fill in your new space.

"Fuck that was rough." Farleigh leaned against the wall and fanned himself with his hand.

"You didn't even do anything." Boyse rolled her eyes as she took a swig from her water before putting back on the cap and sitting on the counter. "You spent the entire time talking about fucking Felix and his new boy toy."

"I'm 100% sure that fucker framed me." Farleigh had been boring you and Boyse about his family drama for the whole day. He only came back to see his mother for a day and tell her what happened. "Which reminds me we have to leave if im going to make my flight. I have a party to crash."

He blew a kiss in the air which you pretended to dodge earning you a dramatic heart clutch from him. Boyse laughed and walked over and hugged you.

"At least you're a bit closer to me now." You followed her over to the door. The next-door neighbour walked by Boyse and watched him walk away before turning to you and winking and running off when Farleigh honked the truck. "Bye, babe! Have fun."

You turn around locking the door before eyeing your plain and empty apartment.

"This is going to take some work..."

A/N: This was SUPER short but it was just meant to introduce the story and set the scene. Hopefully, you guys can figure out who some characters are just by my vague descriptions but if not do not fear! We will meet them all in due time! (Also it is not easy to describe them when they all look alike 🤣) The next chapter will be longer and better and we will also get to meet Will!

General Taglist: @thought--bubble, @valeskafics Series Taglist: @slytherincursebreaker, @watercolorskyy, @dixie-elocin, @venmondiese, @briefcollectivepersona

[seat-safety-switch]

"Oh bother," said Winnie the Pooh, who was at this exact moment in time very much outside of copyright and placed well into the public domain, "my car won't start." Indeed, Pooh Bear had quite the predicament on his hands. His 1966 Charger's numbers-unmatching 318-cubic-inch polysphere V8 had been equipped, largely inexplicably, with a four-barrel Rochester Quadrajet® carburetor. A previous owner's work, no doubt.

Eventually, his little friend Piglet came tootling down the lane. Piglet had been out earlier that day, in his twin-supercharged Nash Metropolitan, and he remembered that when he left, Pooh Bear had been under the hood of the Dodge, swearing loudly. And now: he still was. A repair that took longer to complete than it did for Piglet's relatively easy-going highway cruising speed to traverse the length of the Hundred Acre Woods? That did seem like a Very Large Problem.

Eeyore was already there, in Pooh's carport, telling the bear exactly what was wrong. "Torn carb gasket," the donkey sighed. "I'm sure of it." Pooh, being a bear of very little brain, did not listen to his friend's measured suggestion, and looked straight past the glob of RTV that clung, half boiled, to the top of his intake manifold.

That's when Tigger showed up, bouncing on a Vespa travelling at a significant portion of c. The exposed connectors of the pouch-style vape batteries powering the Vespa's eight-kilowatt e-bike motor threw a shower of sparks onto the road with every jounce and pounce.

"Hoo hoo hoo!" shouted Tigger. "Can't stop now, my throttle cable just caught fire!"

[tulipe-rose]

forget I just posted that because I just thought of the funniest skk fic prompt while brooding in bed and scrolling through my dashboard.

Pm skk, but they stay at an abandoned hospital, that surprisingly still has its beds, for the night (organizations like the sheep usually get to them as soon as the place gets abandoned).

They split up to check the place for any threats before meeting back at the main lobby, giving each other the all clear. They're both too weary to actually sleep despite the apparent lack of threat so they decide to pull an all nighter. They take all the mattresses off the beds and stack them on top of each other using Chūya's ability and begin playing some twisted versions of sleepover games like 'never have I ever'. There's always a penalty lmao.

Oh and there's this unspoken competition on who'd fall asleep first. Competitive mfs here.

Chūya begins feeling drowsy from staying put for too long so he abruptly gets up and just casually strolls around in circles until an idea pops into his head and a devilish grin spreads across his face. He heads over to one of the hospital beds and rocks it a little to test its wheels. Mildly rusty but functional enough. nothing his ability can't solve.

Dazai be looking at him and like 'really?' and Chūya smirks back in 'you chickening out?' which ends up with them racing through the halls and down flights of stairs on mattress-less hospital beds, repositioning the mattresses at the bottom to cushion the crash. They head over to the kitchens later and unexpectedly find an ancient radio that seemed to have a small issue where some wires were connected wrong, easy fix for Chūya, who spent most of his life living off scraps and repairing stuff like this all the time. (Dazai thinks it's cool but he'd rather let Mori admit him into therapy than admit it; he can just drive the therapist a little insane and gaslight them into believing Dazai is perfectly fine.)

There's little to no signal in the kitchens (seriously what was this thing doing there in the first place?) so they end up scouring the hospital (they give up 2 minutes and forty seconds in.) for signal until they just head over to the roof, which was full of broken and discarded objects.

They sit at the edge and settle on listening to a punk rock song that was audible enough with the tune being satisfying enough. The light pollution in this part of suribachi city was especially non-existent, so the stars burned brightly, the sky's beauty a sight to behold for Dazai, who didn't see stars all that often given that he was a city boy through and through, and a nostalgic scenery for Chūya, who used to stargaze whenever he had too much to think about. The atmosphere was tranquil, calming even, for a while there.

They spend the last two hours before sunrise sitting there mostly in silence, save for some small talk and the occasional comment about every new song that came on. It was actually nice.

They head out by sunrise, calling Hirotsu up to send them a car once they were out of the broken down area and into familiar Mafia territory.

They go back to the hospital again as twenty two year olds, Chūya having taken the radio with him last time, returns with it, the signal as bad as it was back then. They felt like teenagers again /pos (for them, being a teenager was actual hell so I felt the need to specify that this is a good thing in this case), the place felt more and more nostalgic the longer they strolled through the halls, the mattresses they left, torn up and yellow, exactly the way they left them.

The stars were just as beautiful as they were all those years ago.

[fuwaprince]

To the welcoming, the caring, the accepting,

To familiar friends,

To anybody willing to listen,

It's 12 in the afternoon and I'm writing to you from a new low in life. I'm sorry for being absent. Please listen.

I've been homeless and hurting for a while again- still trying to do things on my own. Hopping from place to place all over the state while carrying a heavy shield. My belongings are only getting more scattered/lost over the weeks. It's hot in the back of this car (not mine) that I've been sleeping in. I'm sad and sincerely sorry if this sounds like a lot of complaining... Solutions keep falling through. I'm strong but admit that I'm gross because finding a reliable place to shower is practically impossible... I lost weight from not being able to feed myself properly... A LOT went wrong and I'm having a very difficult time regaining any sort of footing. I keep falling flat on my face, keep landing in risky situations around people who abuse me then crying alone. Things are all wrong.

The mental battle is another difficult one but most days I come up on top. Being grateful for what's left and looking forward to any good that may come are the only things I'm holding onto. I don't want to survive off of the kindness and generosity of strangers or even friends forever. This isn't anybody else's burden to shoulder but mine... But I figured there's no harm in asking for a bit of help to survive momentarily? Please don't abandon me. I want to call my desperate yearning for support a need, but won't dare because my self worth is so low. There were times I would beg saying I needed SOMEBODY'S support and good people misperceived that I didn't. Once because I was smiling in spite of it all. In the middle of crying hysterically while explaining the horrific details of my life on the streets to someone who didn't care much... They said it was justification for why I'm actually fine and not in need- that I could still manage to smile. I've been coldly told to run to Jesus and told ONLY I can be the one to get myself out of this. Compassionate company is hard to come by. It's easy enough to shrug someone else's pain off..

I've dealt with so much assault these past two weeks that I have yet to even address. Sexual abuse. False imprisonment. Verbal attacks on my character. Exploitations. Manipulation. Guilt trips and weaponized shame. I'm exhausted. Reaching out to resources and working with a recruiter is hopefully going to help/pay off soon. I'm hoping it'll repair my self worth.

This post had lots of feelings and hardly any explanation, so I'm sorry context is limited. I'm struggling. I could really use some support from anyone willing to call themselves a friend, or any kind strangers who may or may not happen to read this. I've been battling demons and dragons the size of mountains on my own. This can't be my final destination so I have no choice but to carry on. I'm traveling this path to independence no matter what. I hope someone out there is nice... I hope miracles happen. I'm crying and feeling so lost. I have no place to be!