#maybe ill get a mini fridge for my room if possible soon

[mac-n-cheese-flavored-arson]

worst part of living with other addicts is that I can't have any substances in the house without them disappearing, including kosher wine just for shabbat and religious reasons or my prescription pain medication for managing my disabilities

[osomagine-san]

I know I requested about the brothers S/O passing away, how about their only child passing away? I’m sorry, I love angst haha

Don’t apologize! I love it, too >:3 Good thing there are so many different ways to grieve/handle trauma! I made ‘em all longer than the last one, too

Osomatsu kind of... gives up.

His kid meant everything to him. He loved- no, loves, them so much. They never fought or had big spats-- not that the kid was the best-behaved kid in the world, but Osomatsu would always have a sort of childishness to him that bonded him so effortlessly to them. They were inseparable-- the kid was like a little mini him, and he loved them so much.

Standing in front of their grave with the rest of their family long gone was a lonelier feeling than I can describe or even really relate to-- to lose a child is, to my knowledge, one of the worst things you can experience. So young, too...

He remembers the day it happened. Before he even knew it had happened, he felt his heart suddenly leap into his throat, like he himself was in danger. He wasn’t-- he’d just been watching TV-- so what could the problem be?

As time goes on, he feels the same way. There’s a big, gaping hole inside of him that can’t be filled-- and oh boy, did he ever try to fill it. Alcohol didn’t work, food didn’t work, and talking about it didn’t work, either. There was nothing to be done. All he can do is sit in his sadness and... what? What does he do?

There’s a day, though, where he’s just sitting by himself. The pain is beginning to ebb. Thinking about the most beautiful child that was ever born doesn’t hurt so much at that particular moment. The days that they spent together were the most wonderful days of his life, and right then, he knows that his kid would be so mad at him if he just sat there feeling sad about them. They’d be so mad if they were forgotten or blocked out, too. The memories continue, and he cycles through them like one might cycle through the playlist on an old CD a friend had burned for them years ago. He’d start to cry.

━━━━━━

[Warning for death via car accident and a depiction of dissociation.]

It was strange, on the day of the loss, to see Karamatsu so loud. 

He’d immediately called his brothers to the hospital when the accident had happened. When they arrived, Karamatsu was screaming at the poor receptionist, trying to wrangle any amount of information out of her. This was his son. He needed to see him immediately.

“I’m sorry, sir,” the receptionist said, “but I really can’t tell you anything. There isn’t anything to tell. I don’t have any updates.”

He had to be dragged away from her with the combined force of all five of his brothers.

Osomatsu had managed to calm him down the most. His attitude was so genuinely carefree that it somehow relaxed Karamatsu-- if someone could just laugh and shrug it off, maybe he was just making a big deal out of the situation.

It’s not that he felt like it was certain that everything would be alright, but he, at least, was able to relax.

He doesn’t quite remember what happens next-- just little moments. Following the doctor to the room where his son was lying, bruised and bloody and broken. The sight of his face was clear as day, but his brain did him the favour of blocking the rest out. Voices that sounded far away, comfort just outside of his grasp. The only thing his mind let through was the sound of the even, flat tone the heart monitor had taken.

Days went past in a bit of a blur, like that. Even the funeral passed by in the blink of an eye, and Karamatsu was present for it only in body.

Almost two weeks had passed before he came back to. He hadn’t lost every detail of his memory; he just gained awareness that he’d been floating around for the last two weeks without really accomplishing anything.

He checked the time-- one thirty in the morning. As he got up (good god was he ever hungry-- had he eaten anything?), he noticed that he was back at his parents’ house. His brothers were all back in their futon, sound asleep. It was a comforting sight. Things had gone back a few years.

He just reheated whatever leftovers were in the fridge-- in this house, there were always leftovers. 

He went over it all that night. He recalled the majority of the last two weeks, even if he wasn’t totally present for them. He had a memory of Osomatsu and Todomatsu teaming up, poking at him, trying to get him to respond. Their persistence lasted a surprisingly long time. Osomatsu wanted to draw something lewd on his face and Choromatsu yelling at him not to do that. He’d responded, then, but he couldn’t quite remember what he’d said.

He sighed while he thought about his son. He should have been there, or done something, or something... He wasn’t sure what. He also didn’t really feel guilty about it-- it couldn’t possibly have been his fault. Sure, if he’d kept a better eye on him, it wouldn’t have happened; but it was more on the driver! That text message could have waited! That truck had mangled his only son, and now he was left with nothing.

“...Except for my leftovers.”

“Jyushimatsu, please don’t read my thoughts right now.”

━━━━━━

[Warning for death via illness.]

Choromatsu really only has the one way of dealing with pain and grief-- and it’s cleaning. He cleans the whole house over and over again until it’s completely spotless.

It’s obvious to those who are close to him (such as his partner) that there are some things that he just doesn’t touch very much. For example, the door to their daughter’s room was closed after the incident and he never went in there. She was a messy kid, too-- her clothes and toys still covered the floor to the point you couldn’t step anywhere without stepping on something.

There were also dozens of empty pill bottles on the nightstand as well as a little heart monitor next to her alarm clock (that she hadn’t used in the past year, since she wasn’t really attending school, anymore). There were also a lot of cups and glasses that had yet to be taken back down to the kitchen and washed-- the icing on the cake of this little situation would be finding mould in what used to be cups of various juices.

There were other things that Choromatsu hadn’t touched-- her little shoes were still lined up neatly at the door, and they hadn’t been touched in a long time. Choromatsu had been the one to line them up there in the first place. It was a Friday-- the last day she went to school. She wasn’t feeling well so he was going to let her stay home the following Saturday, but just before dinner, she collapsed.

They had a little whiteboard with a calendar on it. They used to cross off every day-- when Choromatsu or his partner forgot, their daughter would always step up and do it herself. She never let it slip her mind (unlike all of the homework she had due). 

It was painful, but his partner had to bite the bullet and clean out their daughter’s room. It just had to happen. It had been two months and it was starting to feel unhealthy to keep all of that right there, and it was clear that the two of them weren’t going to have another kid anytime soon.

Choromatsu found the door open and his partner cleaning it out. Most of their daughter’s things were packed in clear garbage bags.

“What are you doing?! We can’t throw this out!” Choromatsu never yelled at his partner, but he was just so shocked.

“I’m not throwing it out,” they replied. “This just makes it easier to carry. I rented a storage unit and I’m going to put it all there. I’ll need help with the furni-”

“What?! Why?! You can’t just take all of her things like she was never even he-”

“I’m not! I’m not pretending like she never existed! I’m not trying to get rid of her.”

“Then why don’t you talk about her?”

“What?” They tilted their head and put down the bag that they were piling clean clothes out of the dresser into.

“You just...” Choromatsu looked at his partner and saw all of the times he’d spent with them, and with... her. His voice broke. “You just go quiet when she’s mentioned. You don’t say anything to me. You go back to work, and you smile, and you...”

“Oh, come here.” They hold Choromatsu tightly. He’d started to cry. “I don’t go quiet when she’s mentioned. I try to change the subject when someone brings her up around you. I know that you’re having a hard time dealing with this... I just hate seeing you upset.”

He held his partner close.

“I think,” they continued, “that having all of this stuff around doesn’t help anyone. I think we need it out of the house, at least for a little while. We don’t have to put everything away, but... a lot of it takes up a lot of space.” Choromatsu nodded. “And a lot of these glasses are disgusting.” He laughed lightly, despite the tears. “No, I’m serious. I’d rather just throw a lot of these out.”

━━━━━━

The relationship that Ichimatsu had to have been in ended shortly after the death of his daughter. He loved his family, and losing one member of it was too much. He had to cut out the other.

He became rude and crass with his partner; lazy, never picked up after himself until they just left him. There was no relief-- as soon as they were gone, he realized that he was testing them. And they had failed.

Oh, well. Better that ended sooner rather than later. He knew he could have been a little more kind (they were going through the same thing, after all), but he wasn’t. And he didn’t really care that he wasn’t-- he deserved it, after all. He deserved to lose that child and he deserved to lose his partner.

He lost his job because he just stopped showing up. He wasn’t qualified for it, anyways-- he’d been with them for a few years at that point, and it was only an entry-level job, but anything like that was better than he should have had.

He wound up back at his parents’ house. The cold and almost even cruel outer shell he’d developed was apparently his personality, now. He couldn’t stop being rude and ungrateful, and he hated himself for it-- but again, he didn’t deserve the kindness his parents were showing him, anyways. What did it matter? They might as well throw him out on the streets.

Of course, they didn’t. With a bit of love, Ichimatsu very gradually started to open up again. It started with his cat friends, who cycled through visiting. At first, he felt like he didn’t deserve it, or them. As they continued coming, though, he realized that the cats didn’t really care about that. They had no grasp on “good” or “bad”-- the only thing they had a grasp on was that he was kind to them.

The idea that maybe there was no such thing as “good” or “bad” was liberating to him. He didn’t deserve the cats’ affections, and at the same time, he so did. To love is to give without asking for anything in return.

He gave his child as much as he could while he could. There was no force of fate that put them in his life, and none that took them away. Sometimes, things just happened and it didn’t always have to mean something.

He probably never got together with another partner or ever had another child, but he started a cat adoption center. He let strays come and go as they please, and took in cats that were abandoned and gave them to loving homes.

━━━━━━

A hole manifested itself in Jyushimatsu’s life, and no matter what he did, he just couldn’t shake it. It was omnipresent, and the hole pestered and festered until he couldn’t take it anymore, and then some.

The hole manifested itself in strange and different ways-- sometimes as a void in his chest where his heart should be; on days like that, he’d clutch at the fabric of his sweater, like he was expecting something to be there, and then come up short. The surprise would cross his face only for a moment before he continued on like it had never happened.

Sometimes it was a sudden chill that he couldn’t quite shake. The initial shiver lasted only a moment, but the cold stayed with him until he’d fall asleep that night.

A couple of times, it manifested in shadows. He’d stare into the darkest corners of the room, and it would be hard for him to pull his eyes away. They had a presence, almost.

Either way, after the initial accident, he was able to mostly fully recover afterwards. There were some harder days when he could hardly make it out of bed, sure, but as more and more time passed, the fewer and fewer those days became.

The hole stayed with him, though.

━━━━━━

Todomatsu genuinely loses all memory of losing his son.

He continues his days as normal. He calls for him to go to school, and he comments a lot about how little TV his son has been watching. He’ll continue on to say how proud he is of him, because all that time must be spent studying, right?

His partner doesn’t know what to do. It’s hard to tolerate sometimes, because they feel so alone. Their worst fear had just happened, and the one person they thought they could share in their grief with was only making it hurt worse. They’ve broken down in front of him, begging him to remember, but he only got concerned for his S/O. Before they called his brothers, they thought that they were going crazy.

They got in all kinds of fights about him. Todomatsu, stubborn as ever, refused to believe or acknowledge it. He was beyond defensive about the topic-- he was rather laid back about most other things. He and his S/O had never fought like this about anything.

It’s during summer vacation that Todomatsu starts coming to. He notices that his son is nowhere to be found. He must be at a friend’s house, he thinks. His S/O had notified the other parents at their kids’ school that Todomatsu was having trouble coping with the loss, so the parent of his son’s best friend knew that trying to tell Todomatsu what had happened would amount to nothing. Of course, they didn’t lie to him when he called after a week, worried-- they told him straight up that they hadn’t seen his son in a long time.

In a panic, he called a lot of other parents-- even those that didn’t like his son. He was missing, and he needed to find him.

His S/O got a few calls from concerned parents about the situation and went home early. They found Todomatsu on the floor, sobbing and panting.

“I think something bad happened.”

[verus-veritas]

Senior Picture

By Cris Kane

Shawn had looks. He had a killer body. He had mad skills on the football field.

What he didn’t have was a lot of money.

So while other members of his class were hiring top-notch photographers to take their senior pictures, Shawn had to search for whoever could do it cheap. Around here, the cheapest shutterbug was “Navajo Joe”.

That’s what all the kids had been calling the short, skinny Native American kid from tenth grade since he and his family moved to town a few years back. Navajo Joe’s real first name was indeed Joseph, although no one knew if he was a Navajo or even bothered to ask what his background was. In general, he was just ignored, although behind his back, many of the jocks referred to him as “Nava-homo”. Not only was he small, thin and frail, sometimes staying out of school for weeks at a time for unspecified illnesses, but raised suspicions by excelling at anything artistic. While he never did anything overtly gay (besides being artistic), he did show up with his still camera at nearly every sporting event held at the high school and he seemed to focus his camera most intensely on the handsomest, hunkiest boys. At every football and basketball game, every swim or track meet, every wrestling match, Joseph could be found, hovering on the periphery, zooming in for the best angles. He used a vintage camera that still took photos on actual film and, after he developed the pictures, he would bring them in to the school newspaper for publication.

Shawn didn’t know much about art – or about much of anything besides football, to be honest – but he did know that, whenever his photo showed up in the school paper credited to Joseph, Shawn looked really cool in it. Not that any photographer could mess up terribly when taking a picture of the well-built senior with his shaggy brown hair, intense eyes, boyish upturned nose, firm lips and strong chin. But Joseph seemed to have a knack for snapping his shutter when Shawn was at peak awesomeness. Shawn’s girlfriend Madison had started keeping a scrapbook of all the photos of Shawn that appeared in the paper, so she could feast her eyes on Shawn during those rare waking moments when she let him out of her sight. Her favorite was probably one of Shawn at quarterback during the homecoming game, his facial features in perfect profile against the stadium lights, his right arm cocked back to throw, revealing just how pumped Shawn’s biceps were. Further down, Shawn’s spandex football pants embraced the bulging curves of his glutes and did nothing to hide the generous endowment lurking behind the laces on the front.

Madison was the one who urged Shawn last week to ask Joseph’s services for his senior portrait. When Joseph returned from one of his frequent absences on Monday, Shawn tracked him down in the hallway between classes. At first, Joseph acted afraid he was going to get beaten up when he saw Shawn walking quickly toward him in the hallway. Shawn grabbed Joseph by the arm so tightly that the skin indented and turned white, not returning to its natural cinnamon brown shade for a full minute after Shawn let him go.

“What do you want?”, Joseph mumbled, casting his worried gray eyes up at Shawn.

“Chill, Nava…Joe.” Shawn grinned disarmingly, but Joseph looked suspicious. “I just wanted to say I liked the pictures of me you’ve been taking for the school paper.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks.” Joseph indicated relief that a jock was actually being civil to him, but he still stood with his limbs tense, ready to bolt if necessary.

“My girlfriend loves the pictures too, and she was wondering…well, I was wondering too…if you’d be willing to take my senior picture for the yearbook.”

Joseph’s body relaxed and he smiled with relief. “Why, sure, I’d be happy to.”

“I can’t afford to pay you much. Both of my folks are out of work right now, and I don’t have much saved up, but…”

Joseph waved off his apologies. “I’ll do it for free. It’d be a great opportunity.”

Shawn’s grin widened, revealing a movie-star smile. “For serious? Awesome! When?”

Joseph started to get excited. “How about after school today?”

Shawn shook his head. “Nuh-uh. I got football practice.”

“We can do it after practice is over. We can go out by my house. There’s some great scenery we could use as a backdrop.”

Joseph’s extreme eagerness was starting to give Shawn second-thoughts. He looked down at what he was wearing: a long-sleeved plaid shirt with jeans and work boots. “I’m not sure I’m dressed right for photos today.”

“Are you kidding? You look fabulous!” Inside his head, Joseph was kicking the shit out of himself. Fabulous? He never said that word, but suddenly it fell out of his mouth as soon as he found himself talking to the school’s number-one stud. He knew the jocks’ secret nickname for him, and knew how accurate it was, but he didn’t want to blow this chance by acting like a cliche. He backpedaled. “What I mean is, you don’t want to be in the yearbook looking like some douchebag in a suit and a tie with your hair all fussed over. You want to look normal. You want to look the way you really look. Like you do right now.”

Shawn couldn’t argue with that. He didn’t want to look like some pretty-boy model posed in a studio. “You promise I’ll look bad-ass?”

“How could you not?” How could you not??? Way to go, Joseph, you’re sounding less and less like a regular guy the more you blather on. Just shut up before it gets any worse. “So, after practice tonight?”

“After practice tonight.”

---

Not wanting to be taunted by the jocks, Joseph didn’t hang around the football field or the locker room, but waited in the parking lot until Shawn was done with practice. When Shawn finally emerged, his hair was tousled, his shirt untucked, its top two buttons undone. As Shawn unlocked his rusty 4x4, he asked Joseph, “I don’t know the way, so I guess I’ll need to follow you.”

Joseph looked sheepish. “I don’t have a car. I take the bus.”

Shawn had forgotten how young Joseph was. He unlocked the passenger door and said, “Okay, hop in.”

Shawn swung by his house to grab a few cans of Bud from his dad’s mini-fridge in the unfinished basement. He offered one to Joseph, who politely declined. Shawn chugged two beers as the truck bounced along the dusty backroad that led to Joseph’s place. Shawn had hoped the beer would loosen him up, since he was self-conscious about the idea of posing for pictures, particularly for someone who was probably a fag. Not that he had a problem with gay people. At least not as much as some of the other jocks. Hey, maybe fags take the best pictures because they like what they’re seeing, Shawn thought. Although if that was the case, then Madison should be able to take the best pictures in the world, because she couldn’t keep her eyes or her hands off Shawn whenever they were together.

Shawn liked Madison a whole lot. With her wavy blond hair, big green eyes and porn-actress lips, she was definitely the hottest of the cheerleaders, and she worked just as hard to keep in good shape as Shawn did. She wore her cheerleading sweater to school as many days as possible because she knew just how spectacular it made her boobs look, and it never failed to get him hard when she would leap in the air and her skirt would fly up to reveal her panties and her great ass. It was true she could get clingy sometimes. For the past couple of weeks, it was like she wanted to be with him 24 hours a day. Fortunately she had mellowed out in the last day or two. Musta been her period or something. But mostly, he was happy to be her boyfriend and he knew how jealous the rest of his teammates were that he was the guy who Madison pursued.

They finally reached the top of the hill, where Joseph said meekly, “This is my place. It doesn’t look like much on the outside, but the outside keeps you from seeing how bad it looks inside.” Poor as his family was, Shawn suddenly felt like a millionaire compared to anyone who had to live in a dump like this. It had a sagging roof, a ramshackle porch, windows repaired with duct tape and a front yard consisting of dirt and rusty car parts.

A haunted scarecrow of a man with long white hair and the skin of a brown elephant opened the squeaky screen door and stepped onto the dilapidated porch. He eyed the strange truck with suspicion until Joseph leapt out of the passenger door and shouted, “It’s okay, this is a friend of mine from school.” Joseph smiled over at Shawn. “That’s my father. He’s scary at first, but when you get to know him…he’s terrifying.” Shawn had no doubt. “I’m gonna run in and get my camera. Be back in a minute.”

Joseph dashed swiftly across the pitiful “lawn” and into the house. Shawn was impressed by Joseph’s speed, especially for someone who’d just been so sick he couldn’t go to school. Maybe he should encourage the kid to join the track team next spring. Clearly he needed something positive in his life, and if Shawn vouched for Joseph, he was sure he could get the other jocks to lay off on the razzing and the mean jokes.

Shawn waved to Joseph’s father and called out, “How you doing today?” The old man merely stared, coolly appraising the young man and his truck. As a wind swept through, creating a cloud of dirt between them, Joseph stepped back outside carrying his camera and a tripod.

He sprinted over to the truck and told Shawn to follow him. “Bring your football.” Shawn jogged back to the truck and grabbed a ball from the cab, then cast a look back at Joseph’s father, who remained stern and unhappy.

Joseph scrambled easily up steep paths, increasing Shawn’s admiration for the wiry kid’s athleticism. He had assumed Joseph was just a wimpy art geek, but get this kid in a weight room and give him a year or two to grow, he might even be football material.

When they reached the top of the hill, Shawn was amazed by the natural beauty of the valley around them. “Shit, it’s awesome up here.”

“Yeah, I like to come up here and stare at the horizon and think about my future. The sunsets up here are spectac…they’re awesome.”

“I bet. So what should I do?”

Joseph pointed Shawn toward a rock outcropping near the edge of a cliff. “Stand over there. I can get all the hills and the trees behind you.”

Shawn set down the football, walked over and stood stiffly, facing directly at Joseph, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. Joseph placed the camera on a tripod and looked through the eyepiece, then frowned. “No, I need you to relax. Be natural.”

Shawn tried but he was still too self-conscious. He fidgeted with his arms, having no idea where to put his hands. Joseph realized the problem and grabbed the football. “Here!” He gave the ball a wobbly toss more or less in Shawn’s direction. Shawn easily snagged it with one hand, although it sent him slightly off balance. A lesser athlete might have toppled over the edge. “Sorry! Sorry! Sorry!”, Joseph yelled.

“No problem,” Shawn grinned back. Okay, maybe Joseph wasn’t football material.

“I want you to grip your ball and stare at the horizon like you’re looking downfield.” Shawn did as he was told. Giving him a prop to hold had made a world of difference. “Turn a little to your right.” Better still. Joseph risked making another suggestion. “Could you maybe unbutton a couple more buttons of your shirt?”

Shawn hesitated. Was this all part of Joseph’s plan? To get him out here and have him take off his clothes so he could have pictures to jack off to? Wait, he was the one who asked Joseph to take the pictures. Stop bein’ such a dick, Shawn thought. He loosened two more buttons, offering a peek at the pecs he’d spent so much time perfecting in the gym over the summer.

Joseph grinned approvingly. “That looks awesome. You ever thought of being a model, Shawn?” Shawn laughed off the suggestion. “I’m serious. I don’t think you appreciate all you’ve got going for you.”

Shawn was starting to feel uncomfortable again, and the buzz from those beers was really kicking in. He just wanted this over with. “Quit stalling and take the pictures, okay?”

Joseph nodded and looked through the viewfinder. “Did you ever hear that old story about how when the first Native Americans saw cameras, they refused to let anyone take their picture because it would steal their soul?”

“Yeah, I think I heard something about that. I always thought it was just bullshit.”

“Yeah, me too. Funny thing, though. I asked my father about it. And you know what? He told me it was true.”

Joseph snapped the shutter on the camera and the clicking sound reverberated in Shawn’s ears, repeating and repeating like it was caught in a loop. Shawn’s skin tingled all over while his muscles stiffened. Inside, he felt panicked as he realized he couldn’t move any part of his body. It was as if he had become frozen in time at the moment Joseph took the photo. His eyes remained fixed on the horizon and he couldn’t move them in any direction. He suddenly felt an incredible desire to itch his nose, to lick his lips, to scratch his balls, to do ANYTHING physical, but he was powerless. As if that sensation weren’t disturbing enough, he suddenly felt as if he were drifting out of his body – almost as if he were seeping out of his pores and becoming a vapor. Eventually, when he felt his entire being had escaped the confines of his body, he seemed to coalesce, his spirit – his soul – shrinking, becoming denser until it seemed to converge into a single particle that zoomed at light speed toward the lens of Joseph’s camera. He was disoriented as his very being was warped through the heavy glass of the camera’s lens until he was finally trapped inside the camera itself as a shapeless entity.

“Can you hear me, Shawn?” The voice was booming and echoey, like Joseph’s voice but heard from a long distance away in a deep canyon.

Shawn’s trapped being, or whatever you wanted to call it, could somehow hear the voice, and he discovered that he could psychically “speak” back to the voice, despite no longer having a tongue or a mouth. “What did you do to me?”

Joseph’s camera remained on the tripod, while Joseph sat beside it on the ground, eyes closed in a meditative state so he could communicate with Shawn’s trapped soul.

“My father taught me how to capture the souls of others in my camera, then teleport my own soul into their bodies.”

“Are you shitting me?”

“You’re stuck in a camera, Shawn. Does that seem like I’m shitting you?”

Although his soul had no eyes, Shawn could somehow look out through the lens and perceive his body, still standing frozen in position on the cliffside. “Why are you doing this?”

“First of all, because I can. I mean, if you had a choice to be either me or you, wouldn’t you choose you? Second of all, so that I can support my family.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re doing a great job of that so far,” said Shawn’s snide disembodied voice.

“I’m still only learning. But I’ve been on the lookout for a body that I could really do something with.”

“So all those pictures you took at the games, you were stealing people’s souls?”

“No, I have to concentrate to make it happen, so I only steal the souls that I really want. Like Madison’s.”

“What? You did this to Madison?”

“Yeah. A couple of weeks ago. I got her alone after cheerleading practice and asked if I could take her picture. And, zap, she was trapped in the camera just like you are now, while I took over her body.”

If Shawn’s soul had a head, it would be swimming. "So, wait, for the last two weeks, Madison…”

“Has been me, that’s right.” Shawn could hear a wicked smile in Joseph’s voice. “Every time you kissed her, every time she jerked you off, every time she blew you, that was me.”

Holy shit, Shawn thought. He had wondered why Madison had been so eager to give him blow jobs lately. “That’s sick.”

“I got the impression you enjoyed it at the time.”

“You did that just so you could have sex with me?”

“Not exactly. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed being so close to you, but being stuck in a straight girl just felt…icky. No, I had to use her to convince you to let Joseph take your picture. You would never have asked ‘Nava-homo’ to take pictures of you if your girlfriend hadn’t said how hot you looked in his photos. Once I – well, Madison – had planted that idea in your mind, Madison’s soul went back into her body, with no memory that anything unusual had happened to her, and I returned to school in as my dumb old self.”

Joseph’s body began to shake violently, as if something were escaping it at a rapid speed. Instantaneously, Shawn’s body began to vibrate. Joseph felt his spirit overtaking Shawn’s frame, his lifeforce oozing its way through Shawn’s bones, his muscles, his brain. The transition from his own scrawny body into Shawn’s was overwhelming to Joseph. While his training period had allowed him to enter other bodies that were larger than his, including his own father’s, none had previously possessed the strength, the poise and the confidence of Shawn. As Joseph acclimated to his new shape, the body began to move, balancing itself quickly before it could topple over the cliff. He clutched the football in his hands and had a comforting sense that Shawn’s body mechanics and agility were still intact even without Shawn’s soul. He glanced down at the gap in his open shirt and admired the well-honed musculature underneath. He lifted a mighty fist and appreciated how the folds of fabric stretched and strained over the pumped biceps. Taking over Madison was a means to an end. Taking over Shawn was Joseph’s wet dream. Shawn’s cock expanded to a rock-hard eight inches just from Joseph’s thoughts about what he would be able to do in this body.

Joseph looked over and saw his body collapsed on the ground beside the camera on its tripod. He walked over, enjoying the swagger that came automatically with this body, and spoke softly into the camera. “Shawn, I can’t hear you any more, but you should still be able to hear me. I’m not sure how long I’ll be in here, but don’t worry, my father will make sure nothing happens to you until I return. And I promise, I would never let anything bad happen to this body.” Joseph placed one of Shawn’s hands under his shirt and rubbed his smooth tanned skin.

Joseph, as Shawn, easily flung Joseph’s inert body over one shoulder and grabbed the camera and tripod with the other. He walked back to the house and left the camera and his old body with his father, then strode manfully back to the 4x4. He got into the driver’s seat and roared the engine to life. He had driven in enough other bodies by now that he could practically take a driver’s exam if he wanted to. He waved goodbye to his father, who could psychically make out the muffled screams of Shawn’s soul inside the camera.

Shawn did not show up for school the next day, and his parents told the school that he had never come home the night before, although his father did note that some cans of Budweiser had gone missing. No one had seen Shawn when he drove off, and his 4x4 was missing. Shawn’s girlfriend was questioned but she couldn’t think of anything that might have caused him to vanish, although the police found it suspicious that her memories of the past two weeks appeared to be astonishingly vague.

Joseph also did not show up for school the next day, but nobody noticed much. People were so used to him being out sick that this attracted no undue attention. He wasn’t a very memorable kid.

About a week later, Joseph’s father received a letter from California, in which Joseph described his adventures so far. He had ditched the 4x4 fairly quickly, to avoid being spotted, and with the help of family members scattered across the country, had made his way to the coast via various forms of transportation. He had already had meetings for possible representation as a model and hoped to be able to start sending checks back home soon. (There were other things Joseph planned to do with this body to make some extra money – things that Shawn would never have done and which Joseph’s father never needed to hear about.)

Just in case the police ever connected them to Shawn’s disappearance, Joseph’s father burnt the letter as well as a photo that Joseph had enclosed. It showed “Shawn” lying on a California beach in white shorts, hair clipped into a buzz cut and newly bleached to platinum blond, his softball-sized deltoids and biceps practically bursting through his golden skin.

In the photo, he was staring at the horizon, pondering the bright future ahead of him.

Source: “Senior Picture” by Cris Kane on Gay Spiral Stories

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Reaction Shots, ch.4 (baon)

Summary:   Still in the aftermath of the events of ‘Any Other Tuesday’.

Notes: Finally, the POV some of us have been waiting for! Antwan, what have you to say for yourself?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Original Undertale Characters, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Prejudice Against Monsters, Violence, Injury, Prejudice from Police Officers, LV issues, Original Undertale Characters

part of the ‘by any other name’ series.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3

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Read Chapter 4 on AO3

or

Read it here!

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Antwan

Asgore’s driver didn’t say a word when Antwan started rummaging through the mini-fridge. It was mostly filled with bottles of tea and fruit juice, but in the back there was a narrow bottle of a decent whiskey.

Seemed like even Asgore had a tough day from time to time. He poured out a finger’s worth and tossed it back. Poured another and this time he only held the glass, absently studying the facets cut into it. The backseat was absurdly roomy for one human, and the seats were cushiony and comfortable. Normally, Antwan would have appreciated it. Today, not so much. Fuck, he was tired. He hadn’t really been thinking about a ride until a few minutes before he was ready to leave the Embassy. He’d been halfway downstairs when he belatedly remembered his car was still in Edge’s driveway and his willingness to ride around with Red at the wheel was low in his current mood. He’d been about to call an Uber when Asgore suggested his own driver and he’d vetoed any protests pretty damn quick. “Your diplomatic immunity is less assured than my own,” Asgore had told him with uncommon sternness. “I’d prefer you avoid public transport for the moment.” It was frustratingly sensible. Stretch was going to be pissed, though, if everyone was put on lockdown, and he was probably going to end up with another restriction on leaving for a while. He sure as fuck didn’t envy Edge having to drop that information. Stretch was pretty laid back but if he had a hair laid just right across his tailbone, he could hold a hell of a grudge. Jeff wasn’t going to be a problem because transport starting working on getting him a car the second he’d hit the ‘agree’ button on his employment contract. Jeff. Antwan took another sip of his drink, savoring the clean burn. He hadn’t been able to talk to him at all; Jeff was in and out of sleeping and his phone wasn’t connected to the Monster servers so Antwan hadn’t dared so much as texting him directly. All the reassuring texts he’d gotten from Stretch and Edge only reminded him that he wasn’t there, sitting by him where he most wanted to be. Not his fault but assigning blame didn’t change facts. It wasn’t Jeff’s fault he’d gotten hurt either and— Hurt. No, fuck that, he’d gotten stabbed, he’d nearly been fucking murdered and that was a memory that wouldn’t be leaving soon. Antwan expected to see it in his nightmares; Jeff’s pale face, drained of color, with only wet darkness on his lips, garish in the harsh streetlights. The same dark shade that was spreading across his shirt, staining his hands, and all Antwan could do was kneel next to him, uselessly. He would have died if Stretch hadn’t helped him. There was no way to know that for sure, but Antwan was certain, and much as he was grateful, he also didn’t want to think about it. Not about losing Jeff. A few nightmares were a small price to pay and it wasn’t like he had any major trauma in his background the way the others did. The youngest of five kids, the only one who’d followed his mom’s path as a lawyer. His parents had been fine when he came out to them. They had four other kids giving them grandbabies, they weren’t worried about one from him. Once he’d finished Law school, he’d spent a few years as an immigration attorney, but when the Monsters came aboveground, he hadn’t hesitated. He’d been on a plane that night, abandoning everything to offer his services because he knew one damn thing for sure; if Humans couldn’t even give rights to their own kind, there was no way in hell they were going to be fair with Monsters. The job came with long hours, hard work, and a shit-ton of satisfaction. But it was exhausting in times like these, when he was struggling to ensure that whatever plea deal the prosecutors were going to offer was going to be enough for what those fuckers did. It was a hate crime, no other word for it, and the mayor was backing the Embassy. But he knew from experience that prosecutors tended to side with the police, and he was making damn sure it wouldn’t be that easy. He’d filed motions against the perps, the cops, the city, sent out their teams to work the angle of criminal and civil charges because if the other two fuckers tried to wrangle a deal where they were innocent bystanders, he was going to ensure if there was one fragment of evidence they knew what their friend was planning that they were charged as accomplices in the commission of a felony. No one was getting out clean and if this needed to drag on for months, Antwan was fine with that. But for right now? He needed to touch Jeff, see with his own eyes that he was all right. Funny thing; he hadn’t been looking for a relationship. Sex, yeah, and he’d thought Jeff was cute as hell from the start. From the moment they’d met, Antwan wondered about those pouty lips and after he’d gotten the charges cleared on him, he’d gone for a different kind of investigation. Their first date almost put him off; Jeff had been so eager to go out with him it almost hinted at desperation, and his first thought was that he'd made a bad fucking mistake. He’d pretty much resigned himself to having to change his phone number from the get-go, but they’d actually had a good time. Jeff hadn't asked for too much, no hinting that he wanted more and those plush lips had been even better than Antwan hoped. In a variety of ways. Somehow, they’d gone from a one night stand to two, to four, and being with Jeff was not something he’d ever thought he wanted, but it somehow turned into something he needed. Antwan took another sip of whiskey, remembering when they’d been out once for dinner. Jeff had been almost squirming in his seat, obviously excited about something and Antwan had let him squirm, silently enjoying how damn adorable he was. It wasn’t until dessert, shared because Jeff would never order one on his own and was frustratingly insistent about split checks, that Jeff finally pulled a wrapped gift out of his bag. It was obviously a book, Antwan knew that before he pulled loose the first piece of tape. But he’d been speechless at what was hidden beneath the paper. An excellent copy of “The Godfather”, first edition, complete with the original dust cover. It was one that he and Stretch had been idly searching for; most were in poor condition these days. It wasn’t specifically worth much, except that he’d wanted it. He couldn’t even remember mentioning that he’d wanted it, maybe absently, not really thinking about it. “Someone brought in an estate lot of books and that was in it,” Jeff told him, almost nervously, like somehow he’d done something wrong by finding him a thoughtful gift. Thanking him seemed too easy and instead, he’d pulled Jeff in for a kiss, heedless of the other diners and the feeling of Jeff’s smile beneath his lips was one he would treasure. Not the feel of Jeff’s bloody hands in his own, squeezing weakly as his life drained away on the sidewalk. Not that. Yeah, what he wanted was Jeff within reach whenever possible, and he was just about done waiting for Jeff to get over his idea that somehow his actual worth was tied to a paycheck. Edge’s plan to make him a job offer was pretty good, but it was taking too damn long. Truth be told, Antwan wished he could make Jeff understand that he really didn’t give a shit about it. Money wasn’t a problem for him and that it was for Jeff was understandable but frustrating because Antwan wasn’t sure how to get around it, and he knew he’d have to. There was no question that Jeff was going to argue he needed to pay his way if he moved in.

How was it Antwan had no trouble with eloquence in a court room but one adorable, stubborn guy with soft eyes and a gentle smile made him tongue tied? Jeff was the first guy he’d ever wanted to take home to meet his family and it still frustrated him that it was stupid money that stopped him last Christmas. Well, didn’t matter. Next year, he was going. Edge had been nudging him to make this jump for ages, warning him about waiting too long, and last night was pretty fucking persuasive arguments of its own that life was short. The driver let him out at the security doors that led to the Monster wing of the hospital and Antwan had to force himself not to jog inside. Impatience was eating at him as much as his exhaustion and he needed to see Jeff first, then he could take a nap. In the lounge by the nurse’s station, he was surprised to see Edge and Stretch sitting. Well, sitting wasn’t exactly right; Stretch was asleep, sprawled across Edge’s lap with his legs dangling over one arm and his head resting against the other. Antwan wasn’t too sure how good a pillow Edge’s bony arm was but Stretch was giving it a good try. Edge was looking down at him and his normal fiercely stoic expression was faintly softer. Probably someone who didn’t know him well wouldn’t notice, but Antwan did. He’d been around for a while now, had seen Edge go from a distant professional to a close friend. He’d watched Edge’s relationship with Stretch from the beginning, saw every hiccough, every step back, every twist and turn that got them here. Yeah, he knew Edge pretty well. And he couldn’t help wondering how the hell he managed to deal with this. Stretch was in and out of the hospital all the time, and that didn’t even count his issues with depression. His health wasn’t the best even compared to Sans and Red. Antwan wondered vaguely if height had anything to do with it. Seemed like the shorties didn’t get ill as often. Or maybe he was talking out of his ass, like he knew shit about the effects of low HP past how dangerous it made for them to be around humans. For all he knew, it was their sheer asshole quota that kept Red and Sans healthier; it was as good a metric as any. Edge opened up about personal shit either bluntly candid or not all, but Antwan had seen him when Stretch was sick or hurt. Now he understood that quiet strain better than he ever wanted. The realization that they were sitting in a hallway rather than with Jeff took too long to filter through his exhaustion but once it did, rising fear pushed aside any weariness. Antwan walked up to them quickly and demanded, “What’re you doing out here?” He didn’t mean for it to sound as accusing as it did. Probably. But Edge only raised a nonexistent eyebrow at him and said, “The nurse asked us to leave while she changes his bandages. I would have argued, but Rus doesn’t like it when I fight with the staff.” Rus. Antwan wasn’t so tired that he didn’t twig that. Edge didn’t usually call Stretch ‘Rus’ unless he was stressed or upset.

The Rus in question stirred sleepily, shifting a little and sighing as he snuggled in closer to Edge. Working with Monsters had taught Antwan that humans had souls, and he swore the sudden longing he felt resonated there. He wanted Jeff in his arms, in his home, in his life, and he wanted it right now. Maybe it did resonate. Monsters were sensitive to souls, and Edge tilted his head towards the door and said softly, “Go see him.” Didn’t have to tell him twice. He still opened the door hesitantly, seeing a nurse at the side of the bed. She was just pulling the blankets back up and Antwan let his eyes slide away from the stained bandages on her cart to Jeff. He was still too pale, his light hair falling lankly over his forehead. Surrounded with IV’s and machines, but when he caught sight of Antwan, he smiled sleepily.

Antwan couldn’t say when Jeff had made the change from cute to beautiful in his eyes. Even more so, now, with that smile. Proof that he’d survived. “Hey.” It was all he could manage past the sudden tightness in his throat. “Hiiiii!!" Jeff slurred in reply and Antwan blinked in surprise. "I just gave him his evening medicine," the nurse said, amused. “Take whatever he says with grain of salt.” “I’ll keep that in mind.” Antwan held open the door for her to wheel the cart out and then sat by the bed. One of Jeff’s hands was sitting on the blanket and Antwan took it carefully in his own, squeezing gently. ”Hey, baby.” “Hmmmm,” Jeff sighed happily and Antwan could only smile helplessly. Those wide pupils and glazed eyes were a pretty good sign that the conversation was going to be a short one. “Love it when you call me that.”

Before Antwan could say anything, or maybe just repeat it, Jeff made a good effort at sitting up in excitement. “Edge offered me a job!” “Did he?” Antwan said. Like it was totally a surprise to him, yeah, and he hadn’t known about that plan for weeks now. Sitting up seemed to require more dexterity than Jeff could manage at the moment. He sank back down into the pillows, blinking owlishly at his body’s betrayal. Antwan’s response must’ve made it through the fog of drugs because he brightened and nodded, his head wobbling like it was on ball bearings. “He said I can move to New New Home and have my own place and everything!" Antwan rubbed a thumb over his knuckles. Jeff had small hands and slender fingers, pale against his own. "I was kind of hoping you'd move in with me." Of all the replies he’d expected, Jeff laughing and shaking his head was not one of them. “Noooo, I can't do that." It left him at a loss, and yeah, okay, Jeff was out of it, probably didn’t mean it. Antwan wet his suddenly dry lips and asked, "Why not?" “I don’t want to move in just because you feel guilty I got hurt,” Jeff explained. Each word was rounded and drowsy, and still managed to cut. “I know you’re not as into this as I am. S’okay, love you anyway. Can’t help it.” "What? Jeff, that isn't true, I--" He trailed off when it became apparent that Jeff had lost his battle against the medication with his last words, leaving him asleep and oblivious. Antwan sat and watched him sleep, coldness settling into his chest, and all he could think was it was the fucking worst when Edge was right.

-finis-

[berlinaura]

Man it has been an eventful week. After settling down to my room and unpacking my things I listed down everything I need and went for a long shopping day on Wednesday. I bought for example a plastic container for leftover food (our fridge is ridiculously small!), hangers, extra set of bed sheet and food.  At first I thought I would have to dry my laundry in hangers but then I realized that we have plenty of equipment from laundry racks to cleaning supplies that I had nothing to worry about. I already washed my first batch of clothing successfully even though I had no idea what each of the 9 programs of our washing machine do.

Thursday 3rd of October was the national holiday of Germany, der Tag der Deutschen Einheit. A celebration of the German reunification. My buddy invited me to go to the celebration in Brandenburger Tor so we went. We enjoyed the market and live music and went for a long walk in the area of Reichstag building and Hauptbahnhof. We thought (falsely) that the only place where we could get snacks for a movie that would be open would be the main train station. Then we walked to Sony Center in Potsdamer Platz and watched two movies in a row. At first I thought it would be absolute madness but then I realized how genius it is! Gemini man would get a 3/5 from me and IT part II 4/5.

On Friday my roommate asked me if I wanted to come to a museum with her and her new friend. Of course I’d go! We visited Neues Museum at the museum island. We observed some bath tub looking sarcophagi and saw Nefertiti herself.

I wasn’t supposed to do anything outrageous on Friday because I had been feeling a bit ill and wanted to have a rest before the upcoming orientation week. After the museum visit my roommate threw a pre-drink gathering at our apartment and I had a moment of weakness so I joined and went clubbing with them. I am glad though because the evening was fun!

In my opinion the club was no different from the clubs I’ve been to in Finland. As I heard someone say earlier, the erasmus parties aren’t probably the best Berlin club parties there are. For my first party in Berlin it was good enough though. And I am a bigger fan of the pre-parties and casual pub evenings anyways.

On Saturday I woke up feeling okay and wondered about it for a moment. Then I stood up and realized I was still drunk. I used this energy to clean up the kitchen because flies around stacked beer pong cups aren’t a pretty sight after a night out. On the late afternoon I went thrift shopping to Humanas and found a cute skirt I can wear the next time when going out. I felt like I didn’t really pack any clubbing clothes so I had a mini crisis on Friday and ended up going in just jeans and a T-shirt.

Sunday was my chill day. (As if everything before it was such a hard work!) I binged Shameless UK on Netflix for a couple of hours until me and my roommate went to get a drink at Boxhagenerplatz. The place was full of cozy bars and I thought I’d definitely be going there again! I had probably the best gin & tonic I’ve ever had in my life. 

Monday was my last day before orientation week. I was hanging out in Alexanderplatz, getting some final school supplies and I thought “maybe some erasmus students would like to meet today” so I sent an invitation to our facebook group. Luckily a shit ton of people were interested! People wanted to meet quite late but luckily I got a Swedish and a French girl to meet up with me beforehand. I was asked if I know any cool bars in Berlin and all I could come up with was the place I was the day before so we met at Boxhagenerplatz “:D” but it was good and the bars were great! 

Later we met with the whole group in a bar called The Castle and it, once again, is a bar worth going back to. The bartender was super nice as well as the atmosphere. We talked and enjoyed drinks for several hours until I had to do the adult thing and go home to get some rest for the first day of orientation week. 

 Navigating through the campus was less stressful when you already knew some people. The room of the information session was so retro. Some parts of the campus seem so modern and beautiful. There’s this one place that looks like a museum because it is so aesthetically pleasing. Then there are these run-down hallways and classrooms that look like they’re from the 70′s. Nevertheless the info session was somewhat useful as was the campus tour afterwards. 

TUB makes some administrative matters a bit too complicated and they know it! For example, when I want to search through the courses, I go to the course catalog (Vorlesungsverzeichnis, available only in German) to see the name of the course and the timetable. When I want to know what the course is about, what are the prerequisites and how many credits it is worth, I go to MOSES. Then there’s a different place for the material, possible course sign up, exam sign up etc. This all makes me appreciate the compact student portal we have in Finland. 

Another thing that makes me go WTF is that most of the courses don’t require a sign up! We just go to the first meeting, greet the teacher and announce that we are there to learn. We don’t even sign up for exams because we “don’t exist in the system”. 

I also knew that Germans like to use cash but I wasn’t prepared for this!! We need to pay at school cafeterias with a Mensa card but the machines that allow us to load money to the card only accept cash money (and not even coins). Many bars only accept cash and the ones that proudly advertise they accept card payments have a 5-10€ minimum limit for the purchase. This is something that I’ll probably get used to and I hope that a proper wallet makes my life easier. I should have thought about that before coming here.

Because of the program for the orientation week was sold out in such a short time, I could only get tickets for two events: visit at Urban nation museum and a walking tour in Kreuzberg. Many didn’t even get that so I am lucky. To compensate the lack of official events, we decided to go bowling with a group of people I got to know on Monday. Turns out Alexanderplatz is a pretty popular place to go bowling even on Tuesday evening so we didn’t got in the first place. Luckily the second one was just a 10 minute walk away and we had a nice game there. Afterwards we went for a drinks in Hackescher Markt and I ordered my first lager! 

The evening was successfull but unfortunately I also got to see two rats! I was told to get brave and set a goal to get rid of my rat fear by the end of my erasmus year but I’m not sure if I can do it. After seeing the rats I do feel a bit less nauseated by mice though so maybe it will be possible to get over my rat fear as well.

Today we went to listen to another info session at campus. This one was about courses, the sign ups and all that. Everybody is just as confused by the lack of an official sign up - why can’t TUB just come to this century and open an online sign up for courses!! After the info session I decided to go for a walk so I decided to go to Märkisches Viertel in Norhern Berlin. I wanted to see the place after hearing Sido’s “Mein Block” and also just get a walk because the sun was shining and for once I had no rush to anywhere. Judging by my short visit, Märkisches Viertel is like the Hervanta of Berlin. 

Of course as soon as I was on the border of Berlin so pretty much as far as I can get from the city centre, some people at the erasmus group wanted to meet in the centre with a short warning. I decided to skip it all and headed home for a nap after which I finally sorted out my courses. My timetable is currently very full but I don’t want to have the risk of failing a course and then not getting enough credits. I want to a have the possibility to drop a course if it feels too difficult. 

I am looking forward the rest of the week! Tomorrow I’ll go to the campus again because there’s some sort of fun (?) meeting planned with the buddies and exchange students of TUB. In the evening I’ll go to the movies again to see Joker! On Friday there’s the museum visit and an international erasmus party at the same club as last week. This time there will be people from TUB so I am excited to go again. On Saturday late afternoon (important and calculated factor!) there’s the walking tour in Kreuzberg. I haven’t been to that area so much so it’s nice to check it out. And then for Sunday I plan to go to see the Reichstags dome from the inside and maybe do something with the roommates. 

# livin the dream

[queenburd]

and in the end; chapter 5

Alright: this chapter includes surgical procedures that happen on screen. No blood is mentioned, but the actions are still described, albeit clinically. I mean. Look guys. It’s Bonnibel, if you can handle that you should be fine.

chapter 5: let your dirty sadness fill me up just like a balloon

callbacks and references: The Arcadian Queen, Getting Better All the Time

[TRANSMISSION RECONNECTED. RELAYING...]

[PLAYBACK]

It was no secret that May loved flying. She found it very freeing, feeling wind push at her while she moved at great speeds, high above the heavy world. When she was small, she would move at such a rapid pace, flapping her little wings hard as she could and then catching the up-drift to take her further.

This form, she thought to herself, tilting gently as to not disturb her passenger while she adjusted course, was a rarer fit. No less her, but there was a greater power in these wings. These were wings meant for gliding on the highest winds in the atmosphere. These were wings powerful enough to soar through stars.

But enough about that. They were coming up onto the rendezvous. Slowing slightly, May called back to the little creature clinging to her feathers. “Okay hon! You hear me alright?”

With the wind pushing noise back, she could not hear a reply, but the kneading of her feathers under her skull was interpreted as an affirmative. That done, he resumed gripping them with all his strength, as though it was the only thing keeping him fixed to her.

Silly man, she thought fondly, continuing. “We're gonna be portal hopping in a second here, alright? First into Mab's Arcadia, then into Uuu after that. We're just trying to muddle up any tracking chips via the hops, and then we're headed to Bonnie's to get them out. But the jumps might make you nauseated, so hold tight to me. We'll get through it fast.”

If it was possible for Kass to go any stiffer on her back, then he accomplished it with ease. His knees, sharp little things, dug deeper into the curve of her neck. Had May the time, she would have worried more about his state, but as it was, a shimmering pink tear in the sky was forming just ahead of them.

Silently, she sighed in relief. With the time hunting through files and backtracking the site, she had felt increasingly concerned she was behind schedule, and she had just about rammed the gas pedal of the van into the ground trying to make up for it. Not only that, but coordinates were not quite the easiest to visualize. (As a bird, she had an innate sense of direction, but overshooting was still a concern.)

She slid through the rift, the pinks momentarily shifting into more colors than the human eye was capable of registering, and then they were in the Outlands.

Mab had told May about Arcadia before. She'd wanted to visit very badly, to see the two suns she'd heard of. Now though, soaring over the gray and dry landscape, she recalled the little she had been told of the edges of Mab's world.

There was little out here, but what was here radiated its hostility in waves. It reeked of death and desperate bids for survival. It made her stomach turn a bit.

There was no time to dwell. Another portal tore open ahead, in the angry dark sky. The disk that formed had a familiar blue-green sheen, and she soared into it with immediate relief. Again the colors swirled hard around the phoenix and her passenger, and then her vision was readjusting to cope with the over-saturated hues of Uuu.

Here, it was nearing twilight, and so looking for familiar markers on the ground was easier said than done. But Mab, ever the wonder, had been kind enough to set this final portal close enough to Bonnie's lab that, even in the fading light, May spotted it in short order.

She alighted on the soft grass outside of Bonnie's lab, and almost immediately Dib dived out of the doorway towards her. He was followed by the small peppermint fellow and Gunter, albeit at a slower pace, though May paid them no mind, choosing to lean her head low to help her passenger slide off her shoulders.

It took some doing, with patience and time, for Kass to stiffly slide down the side of her neck. He found no assistance in Dib, who was far too busy staring at the large creature leaning down in front of him. His eyes were wide and round, like saucers.

“Big..... bird,” he said, very eloquently.

“Yes, dear,” May said, almost laughing as she gently nudged Kass's side with the smooth curve of her beak. “Hey, hon. You alright?”

“I'm going to be ill,” Kass said quite matter-of-factly. Approximately 4 milliseconds later, he followed through.

-

Bonnibel had the lab prepared for a couple hours now, diligently cleaning her instruments and perusing her checklist for the forty-third time. She was, more than anything else, mildly excited to see her most familiar test su—patient.

Well. Maybe not the most familiar, that would have been Simon, certainly. But when Kass was around, Bonnie learned an exceptional amount. A whole new variety of curse words, for one thing. And he'd been the first human to undergo deep brain probing, which had provided her with a wealth of data she'd not had access to before.

She certainly held no real bitter feelings to the man—holding grudges wasn't really her thing, and really, Kass had already paid for all his bad behavior, she thought. To her, it was all water under the bridge.

For some reason, Kass did not seem to reciprocate the sentiment. When Simon and May helped him into the lab (really, carrying him, his arms draped over their shoulders and his own steps unsteady), Bonnibel could actively see him lose whatever little color was still in his face.

She smiled in what she thought was a pleasant manner, and then the smell hit her.

It was no secret that Kass was usually very, well, gross. Bonnie had registered this on most of the occasions they'd come into contact, from Foundation flunkie to freeloading cockroach. He was not what one would call a cleanly individual. Add to that the messiness that usually resulted from Foundation scrapes, and she could expect the disaster that was dragged into her lab.

This, however, was a new level of disgusting. She gagged and stepped back as Simon and May deposited the garbage disposal feigning as a human into a chair. How they could stand the scent of bile, she couldn't tell, and she was honestly rather grateful that they had not immediately set him onto the examination table to start.

May immediately dropped to her knees beside the seated patient, her olive skin also a paler shade, though it lacked the sheen of sweat that glistened on Kass like a film. Simon was already moving to the mini-fridge in the corner of the room to grab a bottle of water. Gunter and Pepbut made wiser decisions, the former grabbing a towel from one of Bonnibel's work tables, the latter grabbing a bucket in the likely case mister upchuck felt like having a round two.

May was taking the towel from Gunter to press at Kass's mouth and shirt when Bonnie sidled up behind her nonchalantly to take a closer look at the ex-agent (this time, holding her breath). Kass's eyes, while not the most focused or awake, were locked on the scientist's movements over the shoulder of his fussing rescuer. They were filled with the usual wariness and disdain, and, Bonnibel noted, a smidgen of fear.

She didn't necessarily blame him for not liking her presence or her lab, but she also didn't particularly care, either. Instead, Bonnie placed her fingers on May's forearm to try to convince her to stand. “Hey, maybe you should sit down and let me--”

“Dib,” May spoke over her, determinedly not moving from her position between scientist and subject, “hon, do you think you could run over to the house and grab some of his clothes? Sick of this stupid orange jumpsuit.”

Dib had been hovering in the door frame, apparently, seemingly at a loss at what to do. At this, he nodded rapidly, and seemed eager to leave them to their business.

May continued to wipe the putrid stuff from her friend's neck and front with care. She seemed rather unwilling to stop touching Kass, Bonnie noted curiously. Her hands were touching his face and throat lightly, without pause.

How she could stand to be near someone who reeked like Kass did, Bonnibel had no clue. But May had chosen to live with him, so she could only assume the bird had adjusted to the levels of stink, and put it out of her mind.

She huffed, still hovering over May's shoulder, and found the smell had improved marginally. “Well, I gotta give him a good non-invasive” (and here, she emphasized the phrase hard, recalling the dark look the bird had given her when she described the work needed to accomplish her goal) “scan before I can do anything else here, so he's gonna have to get up eventually. Preferably sometime soon, so we can get a move on.”

Kass muttered something unintelligible, then said again, louder, “'m right here.” Despite his caretaker's objections, he pushed himself up to stand, unsteadily, gripping the back of the chair to keep himself upright. Bonnibel resisted the urge to step back as another, weaker wave of smell hit her. It was his breath, she realized. “What scan. What's this about.”

“Well,” she began, squashing any frustrations she might have felt blooming (May hadn't told him?) to instead hold her clipboard up. “We gotta check for and remove any trackers the Foundation schmucks might have tried to plant in you, and,” she took on a bit more of a miffed tone, “take out my trackers in case they ended up compromised during your stay.”

Which she doubted, in all seriousness, but May had been very, very adamant about it, and it was very difficult to say no to a person looking at you the way May had looked at her. Better safe than sorry, anyway.

“So first, we'll have to do a scan,” she continued. “Comprende?”

Kass was grimacing as she said it, and without his glasses, it was easy to see the way his eyes looked, for lack of a better word, haunted. How much of that was traumatic flashback via Bonnie, and how much was exhaustion from being in the hands of some jerk parascience monster hunters for over a week, she neither knew nor cared.

He took the bottle Simon handed him, while May unfolded herself from the floor. He had already downed half the contents when she asked, rather hesitantly, “Can't he get some rest first? Get cleaned up? It's been a long day.”

Wasn't she the one who had demanded this? This whole thing had been her idea, Bonnie wanted to argue. Now she wanted to put it off?

Before she could, Simon had already cut in, ever the mediator. “It might be better to do this right away, especially if you know they're going to be looking for you guys. See, Bonnie's scanners don't have any problems tracking through portals.”

“Right!” The scientist grinned, pleased. “Magic doesn't really get in the way of that, especially when I've accounted for it. The tracker would just read where the person would be in that dimension. So, if they did hack my stuff, the tr--”

“They'd show up right over the house,” Kass interrupted hoarsely, surprising them both. He had taken the towel May had been using to clean him up, and was using the clean end to wipe the sheen of sweat off his face. Bonnie was pleased to note the smell had improved significantly with the water. “Okay. Let's just get this over with.”

“Kass,” his roommate said, as though to argue the matter. He waved her off, and then, in the sight of everyone present, took her hand in his and squeezed it.

“S'fine. Won't let you go through all the trouble just to stop now.”

“S'no trouble at all,” she was saying. Bonnie and Simon exchanged a look.

One scan later, Bonnie was discerning the trackers and marking them on a simple body diagram. “Oh, that's not too bad at all,” she said cheerfully. “Looks like they're pretty surface level, a wrist tracker and ankle tracker. That'll be no problem to get out, simple incisions and wire snips.”

She snickered. “Looks like they went the lazy route on you, dude. Those are some of the easiest trackers to get both in and out. Mine, though, those are gonna take a bit more work.”

She didn't bother to add that they were embedded so deep in places he couldn't access, he'd only be able to remove them with a medical professional like herself.

Well, it wasn't like she had had any plans on taking them out at the time!

Both Kass and May looked markedly uncomfortable, despite her good news. They were both seated, gripping each other's hands so tight the knuckles had gone white. Bonnie continued, unaffected.

“Don't get me wrong though, I can get them out no problem. He's just gonna—you're just gonna need to be anesthetized for it,” she corrected, talking to him directly. This only seemed to make him tighten his jaw further. “I get the feeling you don't want to feel me poking back into your head like last time, you big baby.”

Okay, that might have been the wrong thing to say. Simon was giving Bonnibel a near-horrified look at the casual mention, and the two in front of her were looking fairly queasy. Pepbut expectantly lifted the bucket to Kass's knee.

He scowled instead, shoving it back at the mint, and then glared darkly at Bonnibel like one might glare at a lion behind bars, 40 feet away, at the zoo. “If you think you're getting anywhere near me while I'm unconscious, you've got another thing coming, laffy taffy.”

Bonnibel grimaced, and May pressed her hand to Kass's forearm gently. “Kass...”

“No, I'm not arguing this whole damned procedure, birdy. I just want to be awake, I'm not letting her near me while I'm not cognizant.”

“But--”

“Nah, that's fine,” Bonnie cut in over May quickly, relieved. “I've got stuff that'll numb you out but leave you conscious, no biggie. Buuuuut,” she added, pressing her index fingers together, “you won't be able to move, and apparently being conscious but unable to control your body is pretty distressing to humans.”

“Yeah,” Simon said rather pointedly, as if to suggest he may have had some experience on the subject. Bonnie grinned, and shrugged at him innocently. She'd done it with consent, of course!

Kass looked away from her, back to the girl holding his hand. He was making an expression the scientist couldn't read, but May nodded as though she understood perfectly. “I'll be right next to you, the whole time. Promise. I'll make sure nothing goes wrong.”

“We all set, then?” When there was no argument, Bonnibel clapped her hands together excitedly. “Let's get started!”

Putting Kass under was no problem, and they could all see the way his body went fully lax without his control. Had it not been from the way his eyes were open, one could think he was asleep. With care, May pulled him onto his side to give Bonnibel access to his back.

The Foundation trackers were, as she expected, predictably easy to remove. As she worked around his long limbs, Bonnie would look up occasionally and find May, with her seat pulled next to the work table, staring intently at Kass's face at eye level with her own. She only let go of his hand to let Bonnibel remove the tracking chip from his wrist.

“That's all the small ones!” she said as she dropped the small deactivated metal rod onto the waste dish with her tweezers. “Just gotta stitch them up, and then we can get to the big guys.”

“Let me,” the bird said. Bonnie blinked and watched at the wounds pulled themselves closed, leaving only smooth skin with no trace of scar.

“Uh,” she said, a mix of surprised and confused, “I really wanna check that trick out sometime, if you don't mind.”

“Just keep going.” She didn't even look up, her thumb running small circles on the back of Kass's hand.

So Bonnibel kept going.

The next trackers, hers, were in more invasive places. Quickly, she cut open the back of his orange shirt up through the neckline. She heard the small shuddering breath May released, but did not look up, incredibly careful as she slit open the skin between Kass's shoulders and exposed the muscle beside one of his upper thoracic vertebrae. Hands steady and slow, she grabbed the small pulsating yellow light embedded into it with her tweezers, and slid it out to drop it into the waste tin with the others.

That done, she did not pause, instead moving up his neck to where it met the base of his skull. Here, she could see her old handiwork, helpfully exposed by the lack of hair. “Okay bud, last one! Hanging in there?”

Bonnibel expected no response, but she glanced up to see May's scowl, almost a mirror image of what Kass's usually looked like. Right. Empath. That would explain why she was clinging to the man unable to express his emotions through body language. “You weren't kidding about invasive,” she said, her eyes flicking from Kass's face to Bonnibel's.

“Nope!” she said quite cheerfully, quickly and easily parting the skin. This was familiar territory, and it was without hesitation that she pulled out the last tracker that was embedded into the tissue where trapezius muscle turned into tendon. Simon gave a sympathetic wince as she dropped it into the bowl, where it made a soft clatter.

“Okay!” Bonnie exclaimed with a grin, standing straight and rolling her own shoulders. “All the compromised chips are out! Now I'll just slip in the new ones and we--”

“No.”

She paused, her hand hovering over a clean pair of tweezers. “What's up?”

“No new trackers,” May declared, her voice steely. Her gaze met Bonnie's gold eyes cold. “No trackers from you, no trackers from Dib. You're done keeping tabs on Kass, you're not doing it anymore.”

“But I--” Bonnie began, but Simon was shaking his head. May continued, undeterred, in the same voice she had had when she had said I'm getting him back.

“No, Bonnibel. Kass has spent most of his life under surveillance. He's not your prisoner, he's not on probation, he's not some dog you have to keep track of in case he runs off.”

Bonnie didn't have anything to say to that, so the bird repeated, firmly. “No more tracking chips. No more experiments. We're done.”

“Booooo,” she finally replied, opting to pout. Well, fine. She'd already gotten plenty of data on Kass, it wasn't so big a loss. “Fiiiiiine, fine, lemme just stitch him up and then we'll be all set.”

May shook her head again, and this time Bonnie had to take a step back at the sight of the skin on Kass's neck and back doing things she had never seen skin do before. It wasn't like it was healing—it was like it was reversing, returning to net zero.

When she looked up, May was actively grimacing, her brow twisted in pain. A small noise escaped her, and behind her, Simon was getting to his feet, his eyes locked onto her back in horror. He was seeing something unpleasant, that was for sure.

“May,” he said in a voice that sounded genuinely upset, “You don't have t--”

But she was waving him off, her face relaxing. “S'done, Simon. It's fine.”

Later, Simon would tell Bonnie how he saw the skin at May's neck slice open and pull itself back, before immediately undoing itself. Bonnie's curiosity would grow and grow, and soon she would ask May to sit with her for some tests of her own. Now, though, Bonnie leaned over the table to get a better look at the bird's face.

“And they call me a weird one,” she said, but the girl didn't even seem to be paying attention to her. She was more focused on the man on the table, her fingers on his cheek.

“I'm fine, hon,” she said, more to him than to anyone else in the room. “Really. Just get some rest.”

Bonnie shared another look with Simon over May's head, and then Bonnie shrugged at him.

[TRANSMISSION INTERRUPTED—RECONNECTING...]

[originaljediinjeans]

MCU Rewatch: “Black Panther” (2018)

Summary: *Deep thematic discussion,* “lol that thing is cute,” “I love Shuri”, “wait a minute, I’m white, am I the bad guy?” *Shameless Killmonger shaming* *Bucky angst* “Seriously what is up in Wakanda?” *more deep thematic discussion* “look at this and this random cute stuff” *more Bucky angst* “White Gary Stu is an important character, in this essay I will--” *tries not to get into discussing racial issues that I know nothing about* *fails*

Actually, Okoye and W’kabi already DO have a kid: it’s the rhino!!!!! XD

Young T’challa in the prologue asking his father about the story of how Wakanda came to be and why they hide from the outside world--that is a kid trying to understand why the world is the way it is. And that is something that T’challa is still trying to grasp when we fast forward to present day. Even then, T’challa’s experiences in Civil War have already opened his eyes to the struggles in the outside world and the suffering of innocent people.

King T’chaka is VERY imposing in that flashback scene

The issue of Bucky Barnes is palpable in the subtext of the conversation between Nakia, Okoye, and T’challa when they bring Everett back with them from Korea, if nowhere else in the film. Anyone seeing BP for the first time after CACW would be aware of the context. Obviously Barnes is not a concern to them at the moment because he is on cryo and has one arm. Okoye probably had an easier time swallowing T’challa wanting to help Bucky because he was a fugitive who would not be safer anywhere else and he was framed for a crime he did not commit, aka killing the previous king. She might have thought it was fair, in fact, for T’challa to make reprimands for attempting to murder the poor thing.  Everett Ross is a white man also but in completely different circumstances that Okoye very pointedly outlines: he is a foreign intel operative, and if they let him live and leave Wakanda then he will tell the rest of the world what they saw there (unless the Wakandans have some kind of brainwashing tech of their own--maybe they’re too humane for that but why wouldn’t they? Or just leave Everett unconscious in Shuri’s lab until he recovers and then when he’s ready take him outside the border and leave him there to wake up). Okoye is basically saying, “Look, T’challa, Barnes was one thing, helping this guy is a terrible idea because he is more likely to betray us if we let him live.” But to Nakia and T’challa it makes no difference: Everett is a human being, if they have the means and resources to help Everett recover then they should help. Is a person’s life really worth less than an entire country’s safety? Shuri’s jibe “another broken white boy” serves to burst the bubble of that tension.

No, seriously, T’challa put the kimoyo bead into Everett’s wound and offered to take him to Wakanda and Okoye’s face was like WHAT

I’m just gonna call him Everett to differentiate him from Thunderbolt Ross. Maybe Everett the Leveret.

Okoye doesn’t care who she kills. She serves her country and whoever in her mind is legally the king. Anyone who is a threat to the throne that she is sworn to protect she will kill--”Without question.” It’s not that she doesn’t value life, but she values her oath as a member of the Dora Millaje. Her country, her people, her monarch: those are her priorities. 

But would she have been happy afterward about if if she had been forced to kill her own husband? Clearly she was conflicted about working for Killmonger, and as soon as she found a loophole she broke ranks and took all the Dora Millaje with her. She does not want to support a monarch who will cause Wakanda to commit needless bloodshed in the rest of the world. The other Dora Millaje saw how ruthlessly Killmonger murdered Zuri and then threw T’challa off the waterfall: they are not here for it.

If the new king of Wakanda wants to get into international relief, then Okoye will stand by her king. 

*smh* T’challa and Nakia flirting on the job. I’m not saying they shouldn’t do it. By all means, continue.

Just putting this out there: a film or mini-series about Nakia or Wakanda’s foreign operatives would be pretty sweet

Also, it’s nice to see Lupita N’yongo and Andy Serkis in roles that aren’t motion-captured. They are both incredible actors and having them did so much for this film.

The assault and robbery at the museum in London must have taken at least weeks of planning. 

I like how Queen Ramona wears a full-length gown with a fuller skirt to T’challa’s coronation. It’s still African in decoration but it’s a little more “European” than what everyone else is wearing. I guess in Wakanda the queen has the luxury of wearing a dress with that kind of skirt. 

Dealing with the loss of close family members is a theme throughout the film. The main Wakandan characters put aside their grief for King T’chaka for T’challa’s coronation, and I assume it was healing for T’challa to see his father again on the ancestral plain. But learning about his father’s covered mistakes shakes his perception of what his father was and how he ruled--how all the kings and queens before him ruled. And he has to address his grief again. T’challa decides that the best way forward for himself and his county is to change how Wakanda does things with the outside world. 

I don’t really like Shuri’s upgraded suit for T’challa. The purple nano-energy is kind of unsettling, or maybe I just don’t like how it looks against the black. I also don’t like how it tears up whatever clothes T’challa is wearing. But I understand why she did it.

On that note, Shuri is a princess, and that is WHY she has the time to do whatever she wants, and I just think it’s fun that she used her time to further her education during her teen years and go into technology research. It’s kind of like how modern royalty are advocates for the arts and certain pasttimes, but on the next level.

Apparently, some of Shuri’s technological advances (esp. the trains in the vibranium mine) have been pretty recent.

Also, Shuri is a multi-tasker, and she’s probably always working on six or seven projects at a time. And she’s not afraid to do more. She starts on one, puts it aside to work on another, and while she switches between tasks she thinks about how to do the others. This girl is...way ahead of everyone. Especially me. But I’d love to be friends with her. IDK how to make her not see that I’m just another “colonizer” but I’ll figure it out.

“Shuri calling people “GENIUS!” when they get on her nerves. 

She’s territorial about her lab.

Another point about Shuri: other Wakandans’ kimoyo beads might have a certain set of functions, but Shuri probably programmed hers to sync to everything she touches

My dad commented while watching that the potion that strips away the power of the heart-shaped herb is “nasty stuff.” No shucks, Sherlock. 

Gosh, I hate Killmonger. He is so smug, he is so condescending to everyone he meets. He is so convinced that he’s right that when he first enters the throne room he acts like he’s already won the challenge and become the king. He only wants to build a “Wakandan Empire” to satisfy his own angst--how much does he even care about his “brothers and sisters”? He is convinced that every person in the world is his enemy. EVERY. PERSON. Including me. Including T’challa. Including the aunt and cousin he’s never met. Including the white guy in the fridge he doesn’t know about. Erik is next-level messed up. He’s just the worst.

(I’m white--am I supposed to take the discourse that “white people are evil” personally?) 

“Hey Auntie.” Every time I hear that line I want to break through the fourth wall and slap him.

I mean, only a really heartless person would not feel sorry for the trauma that Erik went through when he lost his dad. And deep down, I sympathize with Killmonger’s anger, and I have such a rigid way of thinking that I admit that I am tempted to wonder about righting the world’s wrongs with violent means. Is he right that white colonizers ruined the world for Africans? Yes. But no, “An eye for an eye and a tooth for a tooth leaves the whole world blind and toothless.” Punishing the “class” of people who have “wronged” the “oppressed” only furthers the cycle of pain and suffering. And pain and suffering are not limited by wealth and status and nationality. Solving the world’s problems isn’t about putting others down, it is about pulling people up and letting them heal. That is why T’challa’s strategy of international outreach is the right one. 

Which is why the post-credit scene with Bucky is actually relevant to the film as a whole: he was the first person in need that T’challa and Shuri were able to give to. T’challa choosing to help Bucky paved the way for  deciding to share Wakanda’s resources with the less fortunate in the world. 

(I’m saying that to myself like I’m angry that Bucky is there at all. It’s called having a mental illness that wants to destroy the things I care about the most. Like there’s this demon in my brain that wants to agree with the extremists who think that Bucky and Everett were “valued” more than Killmonger. Killmonger let himself die because he had the same outlook that all white people are scum and refused to open himself to the possibility that he was wrong--unlike T’challa.)  

“This movie vilifies African-Americans and puts native Africans on a pedestal.” SCREW THAT CRAP. Killmonger was as much a victim as he was a villain. And T’challa and his entire country got called out for not helping other people of African descent across the world. Gosh *rrrgh* 

Having the heir to the throne available to be challenged by the heirs of the other tribal leaders was part of the inter-tribal agreement of how to govern Wakanda. It’s supposed to make it “fair” to the different groups, including the Jabari. That probably implies that the tribal council members are interrelated to each other and the royal family since the monarch has been chosen from different ruling families and they would have intermarried to keep their status--the fact that T’challa has an on and off relationship with the daughter of the River Tribe chief kind of validates that theory. Which tribes were Ramona and T’chaka part of? I’m curious.

I’m not sure how much contact the Jabari have with the rest of Wakanda but I’ll bet M’baku enjoys sending the reigning monarch passive-aggressive letters or something like that. 

I am a huge fan of T’challa’s black robe that he wears on his first day as king.

I really hope the heart-shaped herb grows in the wild

(I wonder if average Wakandans have access to the heart-shaped herb, maybe for medicinal uses)

It is interesting how falling asleep into the trance from the heart-shaped herb is depicted as having flashbacks to the death of the new king’s predecessor/father. It’s kind of like falling asleep IRL and your subconscious slowly takes over.

T’challa dragging M’baku to the edge of the waterfall during their fight was a gutsy move. But I still think T’challa is a Hufflepuff.

T’challa does not like to compromise. It’s kind of unsettling to watch him talking to Everett in their first two scenes: it’s like T’challa thinks he is dictating actual reality while Everett still insists on what is real. 

Yeah, Everett, I hate 80s music too. Klaue probably listens to some real garbage.

I hate that they had to kill off such a great villain and he was being so villainous, but I think the screenwriters felt like that was the only way the Wakandans would let Killmonger into their country, War Dog tattoo or not.

I am just...really soft for the border tribe rhinos, okay?

I’m not sure how much Ulysses Klaue is pretending to be crazy and how much he’s been actually off his rocker since Ultron tore off his arm but after this viewing I’m pretty sure it’s mostly pretending. It is convincing, though.

Did W’kabi ever get counseling after his parents’ deaths?

...actually, does Wakanda even HAVE psychotherapy/counseling like the rest of the world does? Or do they count on technology and medicines to fix all our mental health and emotional problems? You’d think they would have counseling. You’d think they have everything we have except better, but what if they don’t? You’d think that could have been an option for Bucky, except he was so afraid of being triggered by his own shadow. 

I have, like, a lot of questions just about how things are done in Wakanda in general

Like they have access to foreign films and the rest of the world’s internet. The world just can’t tap into them. They see us but we can’t see them. Wakandans know what the outside world is like but they don’t bother about getting on the same page.

T’challa and Shuri are a great team, I want to see them in action together more in the future

I like the jacket that Okoye wears in Korea

In all fairness, Everett Ross is used to being the man in charge, and T’challa is a challenge to his authority. From T’challa’s perspective, he is rude and abrasive, but that’s why he does what he does. Even though T’challa is the king of another country, that doesn’t change anything in Everett’s playbook. Everett acts the way he was trained: he tries to speak up because it’s his job to inform people about his interpretation of the situation, he helps out Okoye and Nakia during the car chase but that’s because he’s after Klaue too so he might as well. He volunteers to help overthrow Killmonger--”hey, you’re going to need all the help you can get”--because he knows as well as the others that if Killmonger can carry out his plan then it could create a global catastrophe. His background info on Erik Stevens informs T’challa and company that Killmonger was not a good person, nor did he have good intentions being in Wakanda.

I don’t really like how Shuri kind of puts Everett down: “broken white boy”, “colonizer,” “I know everything about you plus I’m smarter than you so you do as I tell you because you’re a stupid outsider”. I get it, it’s supposed to be justice for hundreds of years of white people treating Africans like this. So me being white, naturally, it makes me uncomfortable. But I don’t see why it’s nice, even if it is cute. It’s like she’s treating him like a pet hamster, or a rabbit or a hare...a baby hare...a leveret.

How am I supposed to know that Shuri doesn’t see Bucky Barnes as just another fun science project? Or just a favor she’s doing for her brother? That’s my jealousy talking, but I think those are questions worth asking.

I’m glad that Shuri recognizes Everett’s skill as a pilot. But she barely explains to him what he’s supposed to do when they arrive in the laboratory--and then she and Nakia hurry off to change into their battle costumes (and Shuri does her hair and makeup, too). Did they not go over the plan in detail and explain things to the noob beforehand?

Zuri had a lot of survivor’s guilt. I don’t blame him but it’s still really sad. You didn’t have to do that, sir.

Even if the Jabari did eat white people, Everett Ross would be just a snack to them.

I kind of like the casual button-up outfit that Everett wears for most of his Wakanda scenes. I think that’s the sort of thing I’d like to see Bucky wearing while he’s in Wakanda

My mom says that in the scene where we see T’challa reenter the throne room she saw M’Baku in there. Really? Was Everett Ross there too? 

M’baku is a much nicer person than we give him credit for being. But he really is kind of a drama queen. An he’s just rude. He’s cool but like, come on, man. 

Seriously, when he teases Everett about eating him, Ramona, Nakia, and Shuri all give M’baku a look like, “Dude, he’s with us, not now. This isn’t helping.” : /

I’m definitely sticking around for the Black Panther sequel to see how M’baku and W’kabi continue to complicate or uncomplicate things for T’challa

I love how T’challa was shown taking the time processing the news that his father had killed his uncle and how Nakia was helping him through it. It’s like Ryan Coogler understood something that the writers and directors of Captain Marvel did not...

The Queen Mother doesn’t do much in the film but she shines in the scene where she administers the herb to her son. She knows the ritual, she knows how to prepare the herb, she knows just what to do.

“We may be creating a bigger monster with M’baku.” I just LOVE that line. When I was in college I went to the English symposium, and I went to a panel on Frankenstein. One of the papers discussed the relationship between the creator and the creation, and one of the examples the author used was Iron Man 2 and the relationship between Tony Stark and the “monster” that his father created. And the theme runs through the entire MCU and here Ramona Says the Thing Out Loud and it’s amazing.

Golly, that must’ve been a fun hike, up steep trails and slippery ice to Jabariland with a white guy who has no idea what’s going on and thinks he needs to be in charge. While you’re suffering from the fact that your son/brother/ex is most likely dead. Were any of the ladies tempted to just push him off a cliff? Well, I’m glad they didn’t because that wouldn’t have helped their cause.

OR MAYBE: Everett, because he is a nice person, helps the ladies climb up the steep, secret mountain trails safely, he lets them lead the way because clearly he doesn’t know his way around; he and Shuri help Ramona out because she is older, even with Wakandan treatments for aging joints and arthritis she’s still a little stiff, and Ramona tells him “Thank you” and looks him in the eyes when she does so. He catches Nakia when she slips on ice, “Thank you, but I am sure I can take care of myself.” “I know you can, ma’am. Just watch your step.” Everett wishes he and the others had better hiking gear and warm coats instead of just blankets. Shuri and Nakia catch Everett when he falls at least twice: he’s still recovering from his gunshot wound, and the altitude is getting to him. Everett and the three women don’t talk that much while they are hiking, they hold hands and pull each other up while going up the steeper trails. Getting up the mountain takes a team effort and Everett is a part of it.

Nakia; “You know, Okoye wanted to just leave you to die.”    Everett: “That’s comforting.”

Of course I get the symbolism of Killmonger and T’challa fighting in the vibranium mine--that mine is literally everything that Wakanda is built on. 

“Please stay--I know a way you can still fulfill your calling.” Nakia is like, okay, I’m not sure I believe you, lemme just kiss you.” T’challa is so soft I can’t even.

It is so cool that there are so many female lead characters that are powerful and influential. AND they’re warriors, how cool is that? I respect Nakia, Shuri, and Okoye so much. I might have more in common with them than I realize. More likely, they’re the ideal I should work for. Goes to show how badly I need a sequel.

The reason I like Black Panther so much is because I am white and this film gave me a way to empathize with the black experience. One of the superpowers of fiction is to be a medium to help us discover empathy for others.

It’s like what T’challa says to Steve Rogers in the Civil War mid-credit scene: his dad and the man framed for murdering his dad were both victims of a greater evil. Skin color, wealth, political status--there is nothing that makes that commonality invalid. And T’challa knew that he and his long-lost cousin Erik had a lot in common in spite of a lifetime of not knowing about his existence.

Every character in this film has a story that is beautifully told and I am here for every single one. (Maybe not so much Killmonger and Klaue)

If it’s not too much to ask, though, please be kind to Everett Ross, he is doing his best. He didn’t have to help T’challa take back his country, but it was his job anyway and he knew what T’challa and Nakia and Shuri were up against. (Plus they needed a gosh-darn pilot). T’challa, Nakia, and Shuri refusing his assistance because he was an ignorant outsider would have defeated the entire point of the the story. He is a better person for his experience in Wakanda, and the world is a better place for T’challa having saved his life at all. Everett is, at the very least, a role model for stepping up.

Everett also reminds me of a smol and determined epaulette shark--but then again, he’s played by the same actor who played Bilbo Baggins. 

I GUESS some feedback on this post would be helpful. There are some parts where I need to be more blunt about my perspective in order to express my thoughts. Also my feelings about Bucky are kind of not in a good place right now.

[yourjughead]

Lockers

Requested from Prompt list: 91 and 100 - Sweet Pea x reader.

Thanks for the request dolly!

A/N: Lot of dialogue and time hops in this, hope its not too difficult to follow. this is also quite long so i couldn't separate the dialogue like i usually do, my apologies.

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Riverdale High had become like a cattle market. The school was at maximum capacity and it was felt easily in the overflowing halls and louder than usual common room. It was suffocating and with the lack of space came sacrifices elsewhere such as motorbikes littering the car park, crowded common rooms and sharing lockers. The latter was what affected you the most.

“Im telling you Fangs, Jones is losing it, it's his fault we're in these uniforms” the two sauntered down the hall before arriving outside locker 216, next to the janitors closet. He crumpled up the paper with the combination and threw it at Fangs, just missing. Students flowed passed the two of them as Sweet Pea fought the lock. Fangs said his goodbyes before leaving the spot you quickly replaced.

“Emm can I help you?” Sweet Pea rolled his eyes before turning to the sound of your blatantly irritated voice about to snap back. His eyes widened and his mouth went dry at the sight of you looking at him like he grew an extra head. He just continued staring before gliding out of your way to the locker. You just gave him a confused smile before tossing some books in on top of the few he had managed to get in.

“Emm Yeah you can take your crap out of my locker” he found his voice again after watching you before handing you back your books.

“its my locker” you threw the book back in, the two of you locking eyes and thus, the love hate relationship began

2 Weeks later.

“Seriously Sweet Pea, stop leaving half-eaten food in my locker, you'll draw mice!” You threw the half eaten burrito in a brown paper bag into his chest.The other Serpent's ooohing at you asserting yourself.

“Firstly, OUR locker, secondly its MY locker I'll do what I want” he was clearly putting it on in front of his friends as he tossed you back the burrito. You purposely let it fall to your feet before exhaling sharply and storming off, Sweet Pea hot on your heels, the Serpents making whip sounds and hollering.

“Wait I'm sorry yn, I'll try and stop doing that I promise”

“Yeah you better you jerk!” you hit him into the chest before retrieving your books from the locker. “Maybe we should just get a mini fridge”

“Or you could get a clue" you rolled your eyes before sauntering off, knowing his eyes were fixed on you.

A week later.

“YN!!!!! WHERE IS IT!?” Sweet Pea shouted at you from the front steps before almost running to you as you got out of your car.

“wheres what Sweet Pea, I don't know what you're talking about” you tried to be as nonchalant as possible but he dragged you by the arm to the side of the school.

“WHERE IS MY JACKET! My Serpent one! I know you took it!” you bit your lip before finally giving in, sighing and retrieving it from your school bag.  

“Okay okay sorry, i was cold after cheer-leading last night, I didn't think you’d care”

“Oh...emm...well I do” he wasn't entirely unsure of himself and couldn't settle on how that made him feel. He took the jacket from you looking down at its worn leather.

“Well I have to wear it to a thing tonight but-but umm I’ll leave it in my locker after if you need to wear it again” he slid his arms inside his second skin, caught slightly off guard the slight smell of your perfume on the collar. The two of you idled to the locker in silence.

1 week later.

“Sweet Pea I thought I told you that you have to ask me before you borrow my books” “Sorry, I had a test earlier and I needed your notes” “What you need is to learn to make your own” you dug through the locker as he had his back thrown against another alongside yours.

“Will you help me? I just want to do okay here yanno? Don't want to be stuck here with you forever” “Oh wow stop with the flattery ill get a big head” you stood smiling, locking the locker again.

“Whatever can you just-” “Aww look, Sweet Pea has made a friend” Fangs interrupted swinging his arm around Sweet Pea.

“Hey wait you're that girl ive seen in the Serpent jacket” he moved from Sweet Pea and seemed to almost square up to you, other serpents gathering.

“Yeah Sweet Pea said I could wear it” you were not even slightly phased by his attempt to intimidate you, you were close friends with Cheryl Blossom, Fangs wouldn't be a problem. Fangs looked to Sweet Pea like he had 3 heads, the group doing the same.

“Emm no I didn't yn” it was your turn to look at him like he'd grown a few extra heads. He felt guilty for lying and making you look bad in front of his friends, he just didn't want them to know he was falling for you.

“See, Sweet Pea wouldn't associated with the enemy. You should really be getting to cheer Northsider, don't trip on your privilege as you go” you scoffed at fangs, grabbing your gear bag and bumping Sweet Peas shoulder as you went.

1 week later

You hadn't spoken to Sweet Pea since, you didn't like the way he changed around his friends. He had tried to make contact with you every day including leaving you notes and doodles in all of your notebooks. He then opened an almost empty locker, the last bell on a Friday sounding off behind him. You passed as if on cue behind him, laughing with Cheryl on your way to cheer.

“Yn what the hell? where's your stuff?” he reached out catching your forearm, Cheryl almost snapping his neck on contact.

“Take a hike urchin boy, she doesn't want to speak to you” you looked at the floor allowing Cheryl to bite back, Sweet Pea biting his tongue as not to offend you further by mouthing off to your friend.

“Okay well could you tell yn that I’m sorry and i really want to talk to her” he look directly at you but spoke to Cheryl, she rolled her eyes before going to speak again, you cutting her off.

“Its okay Cherry, go start training the juniors, I'll catch up” she assured you meant it before scowling in a way only she could and then leaving you both outside the locker you once shared.

“So, emm where's your stuff gone?” he waited until the red headed bombshell was gone before speaking again.

“My car, i was sick of having my stuff vandalized” “Okay okay fair point...but maybe you could put it back and I'll promise i won't draw all over it...as much” he grinned at the little smile you gave, happy to be finally breaking you down.

“I thought you wouldn't want to associate with the enemy”

“Well I mean you piss me off but id do anything for you...even associate with you”

“Yeah well-” “Shit!” Sweet Pea suddenly caught you by the forearms and dragged you back and into the janitors closet then releasing an arm, closing the door and pulling down the little blind.

“WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!” “Shhhh shhh sorry please be quiet they'll hear you!” “Who?!” you whispered slightly separating the blind slightly from the glass to see some Junior Serpents joking around in the hallway.

“You have to be fucking kidding me Sweet Pea!” you went to unlatch the door but he pulled you back again, standing in front of it.

“I know I know but I just want them to leave us alone” “We’re not an us! We just share lockers, i wasn't even talking to you two minutes ago!” “Why are you so difficult?!” “Why am i still in this closet should be the real question?!” “UGH!” he caught your shoulders and hauled you forward to meet him. Your bodies were flush against each other as his lips met yours furiously. Your own arms wrapped around his sides and the two of you seemed to melt into each other. He backed you gently against the shelf, moving his hands to your face, connecting his lips to your neck.

“Wait wait Sweet Pea what the hell are we doing?!”

“I-I don't know but I'd very much like to keep doing it” you laughed agreeing before he kissed you again. Suddenly light flooded the closet and you both turned to the now open door, Fangs standing there reaching for something.

“Sweet Pea?! YN?! What the hell is happening?!”. “N-nothing Fangs” Sweet Pea almost left his body with the fright, you deciding you had had enough. “Go away Fangs kinda busy”

“No dude what the hell?! A Northsider?! What about the pact?! No Northsiders!” “Yeah well that was before I left a burrito in my locker!...Well it's been nice seeing you, come back soon!” he closed the door again before Fangs reopened it.“No dude seriously what the hell?!” “No dude seriously what the hell?!” you spoke again more bitterly and Fangs glared before Sweet Pea tried to close the door again, fangs stopping the door with his foot.“Sweet Pea, what, what is going on between you two?”

“We-we don't know right now but I'd really rather stay here Fangs-” he glanced back at you “id really really rather keep doing it-” his voice lowered then “please Fangs” fangs seemed to grumble before stepping back, upset but he hadn't seen his friend like this before. Deciding to deal with him later, fangs moved his foot, the door finally closing. “Don't worry about him yn...ummm but what are we doing…” Sweet Pea finally spoke again once he sure Fangs was gone, allowing a little of his insecurity show. “I dont know, Im not really sure”

“Well maybe we should figure that out, i don't want to mess things up with you, you're difficult enough already” “WELL THEN LET ME SLEEP IN  YOUR STUPID T SHIRTS AND HOLD YOUR DUMB HAND, YOU PIECE OF SHIT”

“WELL THEN OKAY THAT SOUNDS GOOD TO ME!”  you dragged him back into you meeting furiously again.

“Oh and please, please always wear my jacket, its ridiculously hot...especially with that tight little uniform….the only thing that would make that uniform even hotter would be if it was on my bedroom floor” his face darkened and you smirked hard. “Well maybe we should- OH MY GOD I HAVE PRACTICE! CHERRY IS GOING TO KILL ME I LEFT HER WITH THOSE UNCOORDINATED JRS!” you burst out threw the door, Sweet Pea laughing hard at you panicked before you took off out the double doors. Sweet Pea returned to the locker, grabbing some books and then locking it again for the weekend.

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[mimahvanilla]

𝐋𝐨𝐰 𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐲: 𝐌𝐲 *𝐒𝐢𝐜𝐤* 𝐄𝐱𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐜𝐞

I am never a sickly child. I rarely get colds and fevers, which explains my perfect attendance in school. But when I was in the second grade, I caught a virus and got diagnosed with Dengue. And I am here today to share to you my experience as well as give a few facts about the Dengue virus.

Transmission of dengue is done through the bite of a mosquito, but not just any mosquito. It is caused by mosquitoes from the Aedes species, particularly types of Aedes aegypti and Aedes albopictus. They are known to be day biters, meaning they do not bite people at night but mostly during the day. These mosquitoes also spread Zika, chikungunya, and other viruses. To describe, they are the ones who have white stripes on their legs and body. As we all know, mosquitoes love to dwell on damp areas such as ponds, canals, unclean bathrooms, and the like. It so happens that my house has a canal right next to it and you know how much I used to love to play outside. Maybe that was the reason why I got it in the first place.

At first, I started to lose my appetite. I felt really under the weather. I felt weak all over and my throat was itchy. I then developed a fever that reached up to 40°C that went on for about three days. My parents took me to the hospital where my pediatrician diagnosed me with Dengue and on the same night, we admitted to the hospital to get the best treatment possible. We were sitting on a hospital bed in the emergency room as the nurse took my vital signs. She then pulled out a needle and inserted it in my left hand. I was so scared at first I had to close my eyes. I might have cried a little bit but they said I was very brave. They then attached me to a dextrose, put me on a wheelchair and took me to my room.

It was my first time being confined in the hospital. I shared a room with a baby who has dengue like me. I forgot his name since it was such a long time. He was very adorable but very loud. He always cries and is very annoying. He later then transferred hospitals because it turns out he was misdiagnosed. After they left, we had the room all to ourselves. A mini fridge, a small bathroom with a heater, and the hospital bed where my visitors would sit and lay down on. I did not like one bit of it but I had no choice, I had to get better as soon as possible. For several times a day, nurses would knock on the door and come into my room to check my vital signs and see how I was doing. And every day, they would take blood from my fingers so they can check my platelets. They hurt a lot, but it was okay because the nurses were very nice and comforting. The struggle with being confined was taking a shower. It was difficult taking off and putting on your clothes because you have to be careful of the dextrose, and I would always shiver after I got out of the bathroom because the room was so cold. The food was okay, I guess; I enjoyed the jello’s they gave me. After about a week, I finally recovered and my doctor sent me home. I was so happy because I got to go back to school again and see my friends.

Fast forward to a few years later when I was in 6th grade, typhoon Glenda struck the city. Roofs flew, streets were wet 24/7, water sources were limited, and the power went out for 3 days straight. We struggled but we managed to survive. The consequences then hit as I was hospitalized again due to typhoid and Dengue fever.

Typhoid fever and paratyphoid fever are life-threatening illnesses caused by Salmonella serotype Typhi and Salmonella serotype Paratyphi, respectively. They are most common in parts of the world where water and food may be unsafe and sanitation is poor. The symptoms showed as I felt severe stomach pains, nausea, and diarrhea. The doctor gave me medicines and antibiotics to treat it and told me to stay hydrated. A few days later, the symptoms started to get worse. I felt so weak, my fever was so high, and even started to vomit blood. My parents did not hesitate to take me to the hospital as soon as possible. The results show that the fever I got was no ordinary fever but a breakbone fever, an acute mosquito-borne viral illness. We then discovered that I caught Dengue, again.

You might be asking, how come I got Dengue more than once. It turns out that you can be infected by the dengue virus more than once. To be exact, you can be infected by it five times in your life. This is due to the dengue virus having 5 serotypes: DENV1 through DENV5. The more you get the virus, the more dangerous it becomes. The reason it gets dangerous is because the first time you get the virus (DENV1), your body builds antibodies towards DENV1, but the next time you get DENV2, your antibodies will actually help proliferate the virus all over your body. But the good news is that you will not accumulate all serotypes anytime soon because the more common types here in the Philippines are DENV1, 2 and 3.

There are also two classic manifestations of the virus. Clinical manifestation is actually just classic dengue, and is also known as breakbone fever, and it is associated with high fever, and is normally not fatal. This is what I got diagnosed with. And the second manifestation is called the dengue hemorrhagic fever. It is more severe and is more fatal. This is like the classic dengue: breakbone fever, associated with high fever. But this has shock and hemorrhage. It is also called the dengue shock syndrome and is only present when you already have the dengue hemorrhagic fever. Forty percent of the world’s population, about 3 billion people, live in areas with a risk of dengue. Dengue is often a leading cause of illness in areas with risk. Each year, up to 400 million people get infected with dengue. Approximately 100 million people get sick from infection, and 22,000 die from severe dengue.

My experience with it was so horrible, because my body had to fight two diseases at once. In the first few days I was confined at the hospital, I was weak and pale. My platelets were so low, they had to attach me to another dextrose to my other hand just to keep my energy up. My face became so puffy that my cheeks and under eyes started to swell. Every day, nurses would take ounces of my blood to test it. I was on so many meds and antibiotics that my tastebuds started to get numb. With the help of the nurses, and my family, I slowly recovered. I slowly regained my strength by eating as much food as I can and drinking as much water possible together with the medications they prescribed me on. After 10 days, I finally recovered and got home. The moment I got back to school, everyone was glad to see me back at my feet again. And since then, I would wear mosquito patches and repellant to not experience that again.

[youngksbass]

What else could I do?

♥ Young K x Reader

♥ Warnings: gangs, mentions of drugs, mentions of blood/violence, angst, swearing, illness

♥ Word Count: 1,999

♥ Part: 2 of ? (Part 1) (Part 3)

You could see the daylight seeping in from the door down the hallway, only a few more quickly paced steps and you would make it out without an incident. You definitely weren't afraid to confront the rival gang leader, you just didn't want to face the consequences of having to do so within a school building. As you practically ran towards the exit you bumped into someone's shoulder, sending books that they were holding sliding across the linoleum tile floor. "I'm so sorry!" You muttered in embarrassment before hurriedly picking up the papers without even looking up to whomever they belonged to. After gathering them all up you stood and held them forward, "I'm really sorry I wasn't watching where I was going..." Your eyes met those of the quiet boy who had been seated beside you this morning in class. However, now that you looked at him more closely he seemed somewhat familiar... 

"It's okay, you're name is (y/n) right?" He asked with a deeper voice than you had expected, his dark hair partially falling in front of his eyes. You nodded in response and he simply grabbed the jumbled notes from your grip. "Nice to meet you." He muttered almost inaudibly with cheeks that were slightly flushed. Before you could even ask for his name in response he had disappeared into the crowd of students that littered the halls.

You stopped by the corner market on your way back towards your new place, the door creaked open and a small bell alerted the store owner a customer had entered. Your phone pinged with a notification and you checked it while reaching for the cheapest vegetables on sale. An anonymous message detailed that you had a new buyer and you let out a sigh of relief. You were worried that due to moving territory you would lose customers but so far no issues have arisen and now you've gained another. You found a deal on some ramen, it was 'buy one get one' so you stocked up, and you held in a cheer of excitement as you added it to the basket. You searched for any other lucky bargains and after finding a good deal on some medication you headed to the checkout. You heard the bell chime at the door, another customer entering the small market that not many people inhabited. You felt eyes on your movements and quickly peered over your shoulder to see who was staring behind you. One of the boys from the other night was acting casual in front of an aisle when you had turned around, it was one of the guys that had beaten up your friends. You quickly glanced around the store analyzing your surroundings before deciding that he was alone and not accompanied by other gang members. You quickly payed for your groceries before ducking out of the building in a rush towards home. Your phone rang and you immediately answered seeing it was Woosung. "Hey, what's up?" You answered as you started cutting through an alley as a shortcut to your new home. "You need to pick up for her." He told you, a routine occasion when you were out and about. "And she also says you'll need to pick up next week." "Okay, I'll stop on my way home. I got groceries and we also have another job tonight." You stated and you heard him sigh in response. "Alright, but aren't you worried we'll run into the other guys? We should be careful-" You could hear the hesitation and worry in his voice before you cut him off. "They don't scare me Woosung, it seems like they're all bark and no bite." You replied in attempt to ease his worry. "I don't think Dojoon's nose would agree." Woosung replied without missing a beat, you knew he was right that they weren't a group you could simply ignore. Sooner or later there would be a confrontation between you and that leader, but that wasn't going to stop you from doing your work. "It will be fine, okay? I'm hanging up now~" You said cheerily before immediately hanging up. You weren't going to let that one interaction keep you from your work, you were not that easily intimidated. Besides, it seemed like they had never even experienced a challenge before, so you were already one step ahead. You stopped by the pharmacy and started thinking of new ways to branch out and garner income, there had to be more options right? You pondered different plans as you entered the small basement apartment you called home. "Mom~ I'm home." You announced before sliding off your shoes and carrying the groceries to the small and makeshift kitchen. You immediately put the veggies in the mini fridge before setting the bag of ramen and other goods down, then you poured a cup of water and grabbed a pill bottle from the pharmacy bag. "She's asleep right now, I was just gonna grab her some water." Woosung stated in a slightly hushed tone as he appeared from the doorway, you nearly jumped at his appearance due to being engrossed in thought. "I'll put this by her bed for when she wakes up." You replied softly, you quietly placed the water on the storage bin beside her bed and placed the refilled medication beside it. You looked at her fatigued figure for a moment before shuffling soundlessly back into the kitchen. Woosung was looking over the purchases and organizing them. You plopped down across from him and held your head in your hands while letting out a sigh. "We have to find another source of income quickly..." You muttered delving into your thoughts once more at the possibilities. "Jaehyung will be here soon, he got another buyer so we now have two customers for tonight." Woosung added in attempt to ease your worry, he finished putting the groceries away and sat beside you. "They increased it." You remarked in defeat, his fist clenched at your words but he relaxed when you put a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Don't worry, we'll make it work. Until we find a way to make more I'm only filling her's, that way it won't be an issue." "Are you crazy?! You can't-" His words were cut off as a familiar figure entered the room with a wide smile on his face. Jaehyung walked over and sat across from you without losing his grin. It looked like Woosung was going to continue but you sent him a "We have a new buyer!" He told you eagerly and you smiled in response, Woosung looked exasperated at your immediate shift in demeanour from merely seconds ago. "Good job, tell Hajoon and Dojoon that we will do two runs tonight starting at 9." You instructed and Jaehyung pulled out his phone texting the others. Much to your relief the other gang did not make an appearance at your two jobs that night, though you had made sure that Hajoon and Jaehyung had scoped out the area well. It was about a week later now and luckily a confrontation was yet to occur between your gang and Young K's. You learned the rival gang leader's name was Young K whom you shared many classes with, too many to feel comfortable and not worry about possible issues. You were hoping maybe that one night was enough to keep them out of your hair, at least that's what you hoped since you were no fan of unnecessary fighting. So far he had ignored your entire existence since the first day at school which you definitely felt was better than any interaction at all, he already had his repertoire built and name made here. Unlike him, you liked to keep quiet and draw the least amount of attention to yourself as possible, it was what had helped keep any issues arriving for you and your friends thus far anyhow. You had bigger issues to deal with then an opposing 'gang' anyhow due to the raising cost of your mother's prescription medications along with the need to put food on the table. You had stopped refilling your own medicine in order to save money, which only Woosung knew, and you had also been eating even less than before. Woosung had noticed your dreary state recently and offered to pay to refill your medicine, but you knew you couldn't give him that burden either. This was the best choice, when your mom needs her medication to survive your's could wait. 

The days became a blur as your illness began to act up due to the lack of medicine repressing it. You barely made it through school these days and fully focused your minuscule amount of energy into putting the next meal on the table. Woosung was trying to keep you from being involved and kept telling you to stay home in bed during jobs. But the pain is bearable, so you continue to push forward and ignore his words of worry and caution. You stood up as the final bell rang, but immediately you grabbed the side of the desk as you felt like you were about to fall. You shut your eyes, letting people walk past and exit the classroom. Deep breaths in and out, in and out, in and out...It felt as though your head were a brick of cement, the sounds of students shuffling out around you became muted and loud once again, and all you could think was not here... You pulled yourself together, it seemed everyone had already left, so you took a deep breath and slowly made your way towards the door. You were cautious and kept a hand hovering over each desk you passed by just in case your legs were to give out. You felt a familiar tinge of pain in your side, the feeling had been unnoticed by you due to high pain tolerance but now you were aware of it with all that was occurring with your body at the moment. Now all you could do was try and keep yourself from panicking as you made it into the hallway. It hadn't seemed like you had been in the classroom for long but all the halls were silent and without the clutter of students as you slowly made your way towards your locker. Spinning. Dizziness. Stars. Your vision began to falter in and out causing you to lean a hand on the wall beside you. Slowly you slid down to lean your back against the wall, the air felt as if it were disappearing from around you and your breathing was erratic. Your vision was becoming too blurry so you leaned your head back against the wall and closed your eyes. You tried to take deep breaths and calm yourself as if that would solve the problem at hand. Another sharp pang in your side caused you to double over in pain, now you looked down at your lap and held where the pain occurred with a shaky hand. You gritted your teeth as you took in the pain fully and tried not to cry out. "Y/n?!" You heard a familiar voice call out followed by hurried footsteps across the tile flooring of the hall and towards your current position on the floor. "Hey, hey!" You felt someone grab your shoulder trying to snap you out of your state but you were just trying to keep from passing out. "Y/n, what's wrong?!" You tried to look up and respond but you were hit with another large wave of pain and this time you couldn't hold in a small whimper. You closed your eyes in attempt to block out the hurt, and you could hear whatever unlucky soul that had found you spewing a string of curse words. Then you felt like your head was cement once again and you felt a grip on your shoulders as you could fight the light headed feeling no longer...

[tcm--holland]

memory // peter parker

summary: best friends till the end…or rather, best friends until two months ago. what happened to you, and why did you suddenly disappear? an arcane letter with a single date on it is all peter has left of you as he ponders a love that could’ve been.

word count: about 2.8k

a/n: so comic was very light-hearted, so i took some time to write something a little more on the angsty side. i stayed up last night for this, because i just love it so much!! do i even need to say it’s unedited anymore? also thank you so much for all the notes comic got (about 150 in 2 days !!!!!) and have fun reading this one, i hope you love this as much as i do!! <333

masterlist

________________________

On the floor sits the Spider-Man suit in a small pile. A few feet away are the remnants of what appears to be a LEGO Death Star. The shelves are stocked with books, and the desk has some kind of mechanical parts scattered about. On the wall hangs an Iron Man poster. Looks like that poster’s been there a while.

And finally, sitting on the bed is Peter Parker. His earbuds hang in his ears, but he’s not listening to anything. His eyes are faintly bloodshot from crying just a few minutes ago. The phone in his hand shows that he was looking at a picture. The girl in the photo is you, grinning and holding up a peace sign next to him. You’re both in black pants and a red polo, the uniform of an old job.

In his mind, he remembers a long forgotten memory. When that picture was taken, he’d just made a lame pun about popcorn (“Here’s a bad joke about popcorn. Wait, never mind, it’s too corny!”) Of course, you thought it was the funniest thing ever and got caught mid-laughter while Peter tried very hard to not laugh with you. He remembers how contagious your laughter was, and how it sparked up something something very pure inside of him. He wishes for what could’ve been.

Peter stands up and walks over to his desk, moving aside the mechanical parts and digging up a piece of paper. He takes a seat and a deep breath before he starts writing.

You looked up just as Peter walked in. Well, not really walked so much as awkwardly shuffled. His pants looked like they could slide off his waist at any given moment, and his shirt was definitely three sizes too big. You burst out laughing, to which he looked a little miffed.

“Oh my god, who gave you that uniform?” You quickly told someone to cover you for a few minutes as you grabbed Peter by the arm and dragged him into the back room.

“Uh, there was this guy, I think his name was, like, Josh -”

“Josh! Here, if you’re going to work at this honorable movie theater, you can’t look like that.” You shut the door behind you and tossed him a new polo and pants.

“Wh - Josh told me these” - he motioned to his ill fitting attire - “were all you guys had!” Peter gaped at the clothes you gave him, sliding his hand into his pocket to retrieve his name tag.

“Yeah, well, you’ll learn quickly that he’s notorious for messing with people.” You grab his name tag, which reads, ‘Parker Peter’. “I thought Peter was a first name, but cool. Parker Peter.”

“Yeah, I’m Park - wait, no, I’m Peter Parker! What the hell?” He grabbed it back and looked at it before groaning. “Did Josh do this too?”

“Uh…he didn’t. He just kinda gave me the idea to do it.” You gave him a mischievous smirk and winked. “Sorry, Parker Peter. See you ‘round.”

Peter could only stare in utter shock as you clicked the door shut behind you to let him change. It was in that moment that he realized that he was crazy for you, and he smiled.

Or at least, tries to start writing. His hand starts shaking, just a little at first. But it gradually becomes so bad that he can hardly hold the pen anymore. Peter sets the pen down and runs his hands through his hair.

When he met you, it was like he was alive again. As though he hadn’t been breathing right this whole time and he had just figured it out. He knew you were going to be one of his closest friends that summer.

Peter sets his head in his hands, wondering how this ended up the way it did. He writes a few lines about how you never pick up when he calls you, or how you never text back anymore. He crumples up the paper into a ball and throws it into a random corner of his room. It bounces off of the wall and, coincidentally, into the trash can.

“Yeah! Come on, maybe you have a hidden talent here. See if you can beat my record!” You encouraged Peter, giving him that grin that he can’t say no to.

“Ugh, fine. I’m only doing this ‘cause you want me to, Y/N.” Peter reluctantly stepped up, taking the crumpled up Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice mini movie poster and aimlessly throwing it. Miraculously, it landed in the trash fifteen feet away.

Cheers erupted from the crowd of teen workers, and suddenly everyone was high-fiving and fist-bumping Peter. You went on about how you just knew he could do it and how proud you were and how far he had come. You threw your arms around Peter in a big hug. He hugged you back, smiling wider than he thought was possible until he spotted a dark gaze from someone standing nearby. Josh.

“Peter! If you want dinner, there’s pasta in the fridge for you!” A faint voice from downstairs briefly jolted him back to reality.

“O-Okay! Thanks, May!” Peter called back before returning to his thoughts.

Maybe if he’d written you sooner rather than waiting so long, or if he’d taken his chance when he could, something would’ve been different. Maybe if you hadn’t moved away.

Peter stood nervously in front of the theater. It was about mid-July and he decided he wanted to do something about his massive crush on you. So, courageously, he’d asked if you wanted to hang out sometime. In his hand was a single white rose. Earlier, one of its thorns had pricked his thumb, so now a Captain America themed band-aid was wrapped around it.

He stood there, watching as the sun shining above started to make him sweat. He smiled awkwardly to people going in and out, but paused when he heard something. He turned the corner to see something he wished he’d never seen.

You were entangled in Josh’s arms, and you were kissing him. You laughed your beautiful laugh, the one Peter had imagined hearing when you saw him with the rose. “No, babe, I have to go. I can’t leave Peter waiting. He’s my best friend.” You chuckled and gave Josh a tight hug. Over your shoulder, he looked at Peter. Slowly, his face contorted into a smug smile. It was the same one Peter had been given when Josh played his first prank on him.

Unable to do anything else, Peter fled the scene. He tossed the rose into the first trash can he could find and ran. He ran as fast as he could until he got home. May looked confused.

“Back already? Where’s Y/N? And the rose?”

Peter gave no response as he stood there for a moment, panting. Finally, he went upstairs and locked himself in his room.

He brings his hand to his face, inspecting the scar on his thumb. Peter thinks the scar is just a reminder of why he doesn’t need to contact you anymore. You’re fine. You probably found yourself another Peter and another Josh.

Peter wonders how he was so oblivious to Josh that whole time. It’s only in retrospection that he remembers how much you talked about Josh to him. Or how you sneaked glances at him while making batches of popcorn and giggled.

He vividly remembers the last letter you wrote him, nearly two months ago. The only thing on the entire sheet of paper was a date. That date is today. Your signature, a cute collection of squiggles ending in a few hearts, was absent. But there’s no mistaking that handwriting for anyone else’s.

Peter nearly drove himself crazy trying to figure out what it meant. Is the date a memory of something that happened last year today? Is it a warning? There’s no way that it’s a threat. Or, to be optimistic, is it the day that you’re coming back? His stomach had taken a sick turn when he wondered if it was a suicide note.

Now? Well, it’s almost nine PM. And nothing happened. Is this some kind of joke? Is it supposed to be funny, but Peter just took it too seriously?

“Peter, are you okay?” You asked gently. Peter quickly wiped away a tear, but he gave himself away with his flushed cheeks. “I’m sorry, I really am.”

“I-It’s okay,” he said, trying to muster up a smile. It wasn’t okay. He didn’t get the joke. He didn’t know why it was so funny for him to get popcorn butter dumped on his head. As a prank.

“No, it’s not,” you shook your head. “I told Josh to use popcorn, not the butter. Maybe he didn’t hear me right or something…” You sat down next to him on the floor of the back room.

Peter wanted so badly to tell you. He wanted to tell you about the cruel smile Josh had on his face as he dumped the bucket of butter on him. He wanted to tell you everything. But he didn’t, because he knew how heartbroken you would be. He couldn’t bear to see you stop smiling.

“It’s okay, Y/N, it really is,” Peter reassured you instead.

“Here, I’ll cover you for the rest of your shift. You go home and wash up, okay? And then we can hang out,” you grinned. It worked instantly, and soon, Peter was smiling too.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“Yeah, same here, Parker Peter.”

You were the light of his life. You always made him so happy, except for now. This whole day, Peter has been anxious and worried that something bad will happen. Maybe it is just another old prank. But he can’t help but think something was supposed to happen that didn’t. There’s a strange feeling in his gut telling him there’s something he’s missing.

Or maybe the only thing he’s missing is you.

The back room had become Y/N and Peter’s spot. No one really hung around in there, so they occupied the space when they had nothing better to do. They would just sit in silence on their phones, only disrupting the quiet to show each other memes. Other days, they’d talk about everything there was to talk about. It was a place that harbored good memories. The tiny back room with nothing more than shelves with extra uniforms and a table.

It was good until Y/N dragged him back there to talk about something important. There was a worried look in your eyes, and you were more energetic than usual. But this time, it was nervous energy.

“I need to tell you something, Pete,” you said quietly, jaw set.

Peter was worried, to say the least. The only other time he’d seen you like that was when you were talking about how stressed you were recently. You were trying to juggle your job, family, friends, and your boyfriend all at once. Things were getting difficult.

“I’m moving.” You finally blurted out. Peter’s heart sank as soon as you said this.

“W-What d’you mean you’re moving?” He couldn’t believe what you’d just said. He felt himself going numb with shock.

“I mean moving. Out of the city. Far away.” Peter felt the soul-crushing weight of what was going to happen. No more hours spent in the back room, laughing and chatting away. He wouldn’t get to hear your laugh ever again. He wouldn’t be able to be near your positive energy. And he would get to see you up close anymore. You’d become a distant memory, and maybe one day he’d even forget what you looked like.

You didn’t cry. You weren’t that kind of person. But Peter knew you felt it too. A claw wrapped around your hearts, squeezing as hard as it could. It was heartache.

“Does anyone else know?” Peter asked solemnly.

Your face fell at this. “Uh…yeah. I told Josh. H-He said he didn’t ‘do’ long distance relationships and dumped me. I just, uh. Thought I meant a little more to him.” You swallowed and looked at Peter.

He hugged you, arms tight around you. He wished he’d never have to let go. “Oh, Y/N,” was all he said. He thought about telling you the truth about Josh now, but he didn’t. The words never came out. He kept his mouth shut.

Peter grabs his phone and opens Instagram. He goes to your account. The last picture posted was also two months ago. It’s a picture of you sitting at the edge of a pool with a grey pitbull in your arms. You’re grinning as wide as you can. The picture is captioned, ‘The only guy worth keeping around!’

What happened? Why did you go AWOL on the world? Or did you do it on purpose?

“I didn’t do it on purpose!” You exclaimed as he rubbed his arm.

“So you’re telling me it was a total accident that you punched me.” It didn’t hurt that bad anymore, but he knew it was going to ache later.

“Uh…yeah…?” You gave him a sheepish smile. “Here, I’ll kiss it to make it better.” You slid up the sleeve of his t-shirt and placed a kiss on the warm skin by his shoulder.

Peter stared at you, unable to form words for a few seconds. “Man, my cheek really hurts,” he finally joked, turning his cheek towards you.

You looked confused for a moment before you started laughing. You pecked his cheek and grinned. “Better?”

“Much, much better,” Peter laughed with you. He felt like he could run ten miles, he was so happy.

Peter recalls May’s reaction to you leaving. She was sad that you wouldn’t get to have dinner with her and Peter again, or sit and play board games all day. You ruled at Monopoly.

He glances back at his phone to look at the picture of you. You look a little older, and you grew your hair out. You’re just as beautiful as he remembers, if not more.

There were days spent staying on the phone for hours and hours, sometimes even falling asleep with his phone in hand. You told him everything about your new life, and he told you everything about his life. Well, almost everything. He didn’t tell you about Spider-Man.

And then, one day, you stopped picking up. For the first few days, Peter just thought you were busy. For you, especially, life had a habit of tripping you up. But weeks went by with no response. Just one cryptic letter with a mysterious date written in black ink, which you never write in. That’s all he has left of you.

“You have to call me at least every weekend. I want to know everything! And text me all the time,” you reminded Peter.

He didn’t need a reminder, but he nodded anyway, a sad smile on his face.

“I have an idea. Let’s write each other letters.”

“What do you mean? Like in the mail?”

“Exactly! It’s so old-fashioned and cool. Like sending messages to each other by carrier pigeon, hand-written and signed and all.”

“The last passenger pigeon died in 1914.”

“I did not sign up for your nerdy ass to ridicule me like this, Parker Peter!” You make a face at him but laugh anyway.

“It was in the fine print,” Peter winked.

You threw your arms around him for the last time. “God, Pete, I’m gonna miss you so much,” you mumbled into his shoulder, the one you punched only a few weeks before.

“I’ll miss you more, Y/N,” he whispered into your hair. You didn’t let go for the longest time, but when you did, a smile was on your face.

“Write me in case I don’t make any friends, okay?” You said as you slid your sunglasses onto your face.

“Please. You’ll make friends. But I will anyway.”

You turned to leave but stopped. You quickly ran back and gave Peter a kiss on the cheek. “Don’t forget about me. I’ll be back one day.”

“I couldn’t forget you if I tried.”

Peter sighs. Who is he kidding? He’s foolish to think something would really happen. Two months and no word from you. Why would some enigmatic date on a piece of paper mean anything?

He loosens the tie around his neck, feeling stupid. He should just focus on what’s happening in his life. But Peter just can’t let go of you, because you told him to remember.

Maybe that’s all you’re supposed to be. A memory.

.

.

.

.

Somewhere nearby, but not close enough for Peter to notice, sits a shadowed figure in a crouching position. Her suit keeps her blended into the night. She’s watching him pace around his room. His phone is still opened to a picture of a girl. She feels something inside of her, like she’s supposed to remember something but doesn’t. A long gone memory begins to resurface.

_______________________

tag list:

@thelifeofanengineeringstudent

@deans-angel-of-thursdays

[jordanjaeger]

Chibi Eren Companion

So me and @jagerdernacht were chatting and, as per usual, fan-girling over Eren and somehow we got to talking about what it would be like having a chibi version of Eren as a companion. It was such a cute idea that I thought I’d write about it and well, it’s a bit longer than I thought it would be, but whatever! I had a lot of fun writing this and there is a high possibility that I will be writing a part 2. However, I want to get started on my requests so it will have to wait for now!

When a person wakes up, it’s usually in their bedroom. Or sometimes a person can fall ill or become injured, resulting in them waking up in a hospital room. Or maybe a person had a little too much to drink last night, so they ended up awakening in some place random that they don’t remember how they got there.

No one, however, wakes up to a tiny cartoon character standing atop of their chest with two run down pencils in their hands ready to attack you the moment you moved a muscle.

“Gah!” you screamed as you scrambled back against your bed’s headboard, making the small being tumble over.

You didn’t have time to think about or even plan your reaction to it. So when you woke up to a pair of green eyes staring diligently at you, you couldn’t help but to react involuntarily.

“Ouch!” The small being fell back onto the bedspread, bumping its head against the footboard.

You stared at the mysterious creature as you felt your heart race and nearly jump out of your chest. It looked like some sort of cartoon. Were your eyes playing tricks on you? Were you still asleep? Was this some sort of dream? There was only one way to find out.

Without taking your eyes off of it, you took your fingers and pinched your upper arm, wincing slightly at the pain as you added more pressure. After realizing you were in fact wide awake, you released your arm, ignoring the pain and keeping your eyes on the being.

“Damn it, that hurt,” it grumbled, rubbing its head. Upon noticing your gaze, it immediately jumped to its feet, rushing to find the two pencils it was previously holding.

While watching it search, familiarity hit you. You studied its features, taking note of its short brown hair and big green eyes which every so often darted towards you to keep an eye on your movements. It looked scared, but nonetheless determined to do whatever it had planned to do once you returned from Dream Land.

“E-Eren?” you whispered, mentally confirming that the being looked just like the main protagonist of your favorite Anime, Attack on Titan.

Eren stopped in his tracks after hearing you speak. He seemed to be even more startled by your words rather than your size.

“Ah! It can talk! It must have intelligence!” he cried.

“Huh? Wait, no! I’m not-”

“DIE!” he yelled as he grabbed one of the pencils hidden in the folds of your comforter and threw it at you.

You braced yourself for the impact of the pointy object, which lightly touched base with your forearm and instantly dropped back onto the comforter. Lowering your guard, you picked it up and held it at eye level, then shifted your gaze back to Eren.

“Shit, my attack didn’t work! It’s still alive!” hissed Eren.

With the last remaining pencil left, he sent you one final death glare before charging in your direction. Climbing the mass hills that made up your comforter, he launched for you, his only goal to kill you.

“Hey!” you yelled as your reflexes kicked back in and you held up your guard again.

Somehow, Eren managed to climb up your shirt and to the top of your head, making you squirm in discomfort. It felt like a bug was crawling on you, all the more reason to believe that you weren’t dreaming.

“Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!” Eren repeated his words after every strike to your head, until finally you had had enough.

With a bit of concentration, you reached for him and grabbed him, trapping him inside of your fist.

“Ah! Oh no! Let me go you big ugly titan! Let me go! Let me go!” pleaded Eren as you brought him in front of your face. You watched as he struggled to free himself, unaware of your obvious power over him.

You continued to study him, still dazed at his very existence. How could this even be possible?

“What are you?” you asked him curiously.

Eren shivered in fear at your question.

“If you’re gonna’ eat me, then do it already!” He yelled, ready to accept his fate.

You furrowed your brows at him, then sighed as you slowly got out of bed. You walked over to your desk and sat down, gently releasing him onto the cool surface.

“Y-you, you let me go?” Eren asked.

You nodded.

“Tch, big mistake!” He snarled as his eyes searched for another weapon.

He noticed your cup of writing utensils situated on the far left side of your desk. Recalling where he originally found the pencils from before, he charged for the cup, but you were faster than him. You calmly lifted the cup of utensils up just before he could grab a hold of one.

“Hey! No fair!”

You tilted the cup in your hand, letting the utensils rattle a bit as you rested your chin in the palm of your free hand.

“Life’s not fair, hun,” you replied, a sly smile hinting at your lips.

Eren, still not giving up on his goal, scanned the top of the desk for another weapon. A pencil sharpener lay in one of the cupboards, prompting him to use it as a replacement. Though to his dismay, you casually picked it up, making him fall flat on his face as he dashed for the plastic object.

“You done yet?” You asked him, playfulness dripping from your voice.

Eren growled, frustrated at your attempts to demean him. He tried to look around for more weapons, but was met with an empty desk, with him being the only thing occupying the surface other than your laptop and a box of harmless tissues.

You couldn’t help but chuckle at his actions. Whether or not this was a dream, one thing was for sure, Eren was a stubborn brat both in the anime and in real life.

“Listen, you might as well give up.” You placed the cup of utensils back in its original location along with the pencil sharpener. “No matter what you do, I’ll always be one step ahead.”

You folded your arms and leaned on the desk, hovering over Eren as you spoke. You peered down at him, waiting to see what he would have to say next.

“Tch,” Eren clicked his tongue, looking away. He, too crossed his arms over his chest, contemplating a plan B.

“How did you get here?” you asked him.

Silence was your answer.

“Oh, I get it. The silent treatment huh?” You leaned in closer to Eren, who continued to ignore your presence.

Only the faint growls of a particularly hungry boy filled the air, making you smirk at the light bulb that now shone brightly over your head.

“Well, suit yourself,” you shrugged. “I don’t know about you, but I’m hungry.”

You placed your hands on the desk and stood up. Walking over to the small mini fridge in your room, you opened it and debated between a selection of fruits, ultimately pulling out a container of strawberries.

As you returned back to your seat at the desk, you noticed Eren had completely turned to face the wall, but this only provoked you even more.

“Mmm, so good!” You stated as you popped one of the sweet berries into your mouth.

Any other time you would have just grabbed whatever fruit your fingers touched first, then crawled back into bed while reading a book or watching Netflix. But this time you made sure to pick the sweetest fruit you had, certain that it would win over Eren. After all, he was always known in the anime for having a sweet tooth. Now was the time to put it to the test.

“Damn it,” muttered Eren as he clenched his stomach which continued to make whale sounds.

“What’s wrong, Eren? Hungry?” You asked in a rather obvious tone.

“Shut up!” He snapped, making you snicker even more.

“Oh don’t be that way. Here, have a strawberry.” You broke a small piece off of the fruit and handed it to Eren, who only looked at it and turned away.

“Stop being so stubborn. If you don’t eat, you’ll starve,” you warned him.

“You must not be that intelligent if you think I’m going to trust you, you stupid titan!” Eren spat.

“Come on now. If I was a real titan, don’t you think I’d be more interested in eating you than these berries?”

Silence was your answer once again. Now you were starting to grow annoyed, until Eren’s stomach growled for the second time.

“Eren, you need to eat.”

Eren looked back at the fruit you were holding, wondering if he should trust you. Either way, if he didn’t eat soon, he would surely pass out. So he didn’t have much of a choice. And with that observation, Eren decided to take a chance and accept your offering, making you smile in relief.

He quickly ran away from your hand to distance himself, then began to nom on the juicy sweetness that was the strawberry.

Oh my god.. this is the cutest thing I’ve seen in my entire fucking life you thought to yourself, wanting to get a picture but not daring to disturb him.

“Good?” You asked with a smile.

Eren shifted his eyes at you, remains of strawberry smeared across his face. Your smile simply widened at his cuteness, causing Eren to blush and look away.

“It’s alright,” he said lowly, but you knew he was just acting.

“You’ve got a little something..” you pointed your finger to your own mouth to indicate to Eren that he had leftover strawberry on his face. Unfortunately, he didn’t catch the clue, so instead, you took the liberty of cleaning him up yourself by grabbing a tissue from the tissue box on your desk and wiping his face for him.

“Hey! What the!” Eren protested.

“Oh calm down, I’m just cleaning you up. You’re a mess,” you assured him, making his blush spread to his ears.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, slightly embarrassed but secretly grateful.

In response you smiled, but just as soon as you did, a wave of dread came over you as you realized how much time passed by. Quickly, you arose from your seat and walked over to your nightstand to look at your phone.

“Oh crap! I’m gonna’ be late for school!” you cried.

Without a second thought, you darted towards your closet to pull out your school uniform. You didn’t even realize Eren still sitting on the desk, utterly confused. And when he saw you throw off your pajama top, he nearly fainted.

“Gah! I’m sorry!” He exclaimed as he turned away, the red in his face deepening in tint.

“Huh?” You questioned, puzzled by his words. Then it registered that you were half naked.

“Ah!” You gasped and slammed the closet door shut to finish changing in privacy, your cheeks now rosy.

After nearly five minutes of running back and forth in your room, you were finally ready to head out of the door. Slugging your bag around your shoulder and slipping on your shoes, you reached for the doorknob.

“Wait!” said Eren, reminding you yet again that he was there. You turned to look back at him. He looked distressed.

“What is it? I’m going to be late!”

Eren hesitated for a moment.

“What about me?” he asked sheepishly, making you raise an eyebrow.

“What about you? I can’t bring you with me,” you said.

Eren furrowed his brows and balled his fists.

“Why not?!” he shouted.

“W-well, because..,” your words trailed off. He had a point. Why couldn’t you bring him with you? After all, he was small enough to fit in your bag. As long as he kept his mouth shut, no one would ever know.

“I don’t want to stay here all by myself!” Eren folded his arms across his chest, tears threatening to spill, but he blinked them away to hide them.

Fuck, how can I say no to that? He’s so damn cute you thought defeatedly.

“Fine,” you agreed, walking over to him. “But you have to keep quiet. No one can know about you. Got it?”

You lowered your hand to him so that he could climb aboard. Eren nodded, excitement sparkling in his big green orbs. You felt a warm and fuzzy feeling develop in the pit of your stomach, satisfied for earning the small being’s trust. You unzipped the smallest compartment on the front of your bag and gently placed Eren inside. Then, you held one finger to your lips. In return, he made a zipper motion across his own lips and pretended to lock it, handing you the imaginary key. You wanted to cry, you wanted to say to hell with school and spend the rest of your day with him, but instead, you took the imaginary key and smiled, then rushed out of your room to catch the buss.

[jojowritesstuff]

mini-fic for when reid dies? maybe it's in the moment or just a flashback but your writing is so so so good and I would love to see how she would react and how she'd act round her family and just the whole darn thing

This is actually another collaborative piece so not entirely my writing.

:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

She had cut class for the first and only timewhen she was a sophomore in high school. Her brother had called her - at thispoint, she was taking every opportunity spend time with him. That day though,it seemed especially urgent. She hadn’t driven to school, so she had to run tothe hospital. Every step slowed her down, and she felt as if she’d never reachit. By the time she got there, they were already pulling the white sheet over hishead, but not apologizing- scorning, scoffing at her- the nurses whispered inlow undertones how she could never be a good sister- she didn’t even careenough to visit her dying brother. Doctors laughed when she tried to explain tothem, her own parents ignored her and even Mark cut off ties…

  Shebolted upright, hardly muffling a scream as she was driven into consciousness,her heart hammering. "Hmm...baby?" Raya groaned, torn from sleep by the sudden movement and noise comingfrom the girl that was supposed to be sleeping next to her. "What's wrong?" she asked, hermind still foggy with sleep. Hazel could hardly hear Raya's voice - her heartpounded in her ears, blocking out most of the sound. She didn't even realizeshe was crying until she brought her hands to her face, only for them to comeback wet. She tried to breathe deeply, slowly, but every time it just resultedin another gasp.

  "Hey, hey..." Raya cooed, sitting up and laying agentle hand on Hazel's back. "It'sokay sweetheart, you're okay. It was just a dream." she hummed, herhand starting to draw slow circles. It wasn't the first time Hazel woke up froma nightmare yet she never spoke about what she saw in her dream. She turnedblindly into Raya, burying her face in her girlfriend's neck. "It- it wasn't," she chokedout, before starting to cry harder again, her vision obscured due to tears. "Shh... just breathe, baby"Raya hushed her, wrapping her arms around Hazel to pull her in close. She couldfeel the girl shaking in her arms, sobs tearing through her.

  Hazelshut her eyes, still trying to breathe. After several minutes, she finallymanaged to calm down slightly, and nearly twenty minutes had gone by before shefully stopped crying. "I- I'm sorry,I kn-know it's l-late," she stammered, still shaking.  "It'snearly four in the morning, you could even say it's early," Raya remarkedlightly. "Doesn't matter though. Areyou okay now?" she asked.  Hazelshook her head. "I will b-bethough... you go back to s-sleep, I'm sorry for waking you." "Don'tbe sorry sweetheart, I don't mind," Raya told her "Do you want to talk about it?" She shook her head again."It's- it's stupid, you wouldn'treally care to know and-"

  "Stop right there." Raya interrupted her. "Do you honestly think I don't care?Baby, I love you, of course I care. No matter what it is I am sure it's notstupid." "It was just about my brother, it- it's nothing," Hazelsaid, immediately feeling the heat rush to her face. "Oh honey..." Raya sighed. She knew that Hazel used tohave two brothers, one of them having passed away but while Hazel often spokefondly of him she never said much about his passing or anything related to it.

  "I did my best," she said tearfully, pulling herlong hair into a ponytail. "I knowit but..." she shook her head, biting her lip."What happened?" Raya asked, drawing light patterns onHazel's arm. "It was like a weekafter I got my license, so I drove to school," Hazel started. "And I knew it was- it was getting tobe the end, but my parents were out, and he texted me asking when school gotout so he could see me... I left right then and there, I got to the hospital inlike 8 minutes," she sniffed.  "It was pretty bad, I tried to get holdof my parents too but I couldn't... I just sat there with him, made sure hekn-knew how much we loved him," she said, starting to cry again.

  "I'm sure he knew," Raya said, wrapping her arms aroundHazel, pulling her in again. "Youwere there, he wasn't alone when it happened and that's what matters the most.He was with someone who loves him." "Still... my parents were out,Mark was at school... one of the doctors was s-so rude, I overheardhim..." "You did everythingyou can," Raya said sympathetically. "Screw that doctor." She wasn't sure what to say tocomfort her, knowing that nothing she could say would make a difference to whathas happened.

  "And my dad still hasn't been the same tome, he thinks I- I should've done more to get them th-there, my mom was awfulto me for a whole too... M-mark was the only one who really understood." Afresh wave of tears was spilling over Hazel’s cheeks by now. "It wasn'tyour fault, sweetie. They were the ones not picking up their phones." Raya hummed, lightly kissing Hazel'shair. "They knew their son was ill,they should have had their phones ready at any time. You really don't need toblame yourself for any of this. It wasn't fair from your parents to react thatway when you were the only one who was actually there for your brother "

  Hazelturned into Raya, burying her face in her neck. "I could've done more, I- I didn't want to spend the last minutesI had with him on the phone, I tried so hard," she cried, her breathhitching. "Baby, it's okay. Hedefinitely understood, you were trying to reach your parents," Rayasaid, still drawing light patterns into Hazel’s back not knowing what else todo to comfort her at this point.

  Hazeldidn't say anything for a while, still crying into Raya's shoulder. "I miss him," she said meekly,knowing how pathetic she sounded. "Iknow, honey, I know." Raya hummed, her lips nearly brushing overHazel's ear. "He was your brother,you'll always miss him but part of him will always be with you," shesaid, arms still wrapped tightly around Hazel. She shook her head, stillsobbing, until eventually her tears quieted into gentle whimpers and she'dfallen back asleep. Slowly and careful not to wake the sleeping girl Raya movedso they would both be laying down. She pulled the covers over them, stillholding Hazel close as she slept. Even in her sleep, Hazel clung to Raya,moving closer to her and curling into her.

  Hazelwoke up just a little over an hour later- her face still damp with tears. She rememberedeverything that had happened, and slowly sat up- she was far too mortified tobe with Raya now, so she settled on quietly getting ready and slipping out ofthe house to get to class. When Raya woke up she found the other side of thebed empty. Checking the time she figured that Hazel must have left to classalready. She sent her a quick good morning text before getting ready herself. Hazelsaw the text immediately, but couldn't bring herself to respond. She could onlyimagine what Raya thought of her after her episode the night before.

  It was arather slow day at work and so Raya managed to get back home on time. She knewit would be another hour until Hazel would be back so she started fixing upsome dinner for the two of them.

  Hazelbit her lip, almost afraid to enter the apartment. With a deep breath, sheopened the door, depositing her heavy book bag on the couch. "Hey, you're back. How was yourday?" Raya called out from the kitchen when she heard the door open.  "Eh,"she said. "The usual - how waswork?" "Was a slow day. Notmuch to do." Raya replied."Got to be home on time so I made us some dinner." She headed outof the kitchen into the living room, towel still hanging over her shoulder. "Are you okay? What's wrong?" sheasked, seeing the light frown on Hazel's face.

 "Yeah, I'm good!" Hazel said, plastering on a smile. "Just a ton of work to do."It wasn't like her not to exuberantly detail her day, as she loved medicine somuch she could hardly contain her joy. "You'renot. You may smile but your eyes talk a different language." Rayasaid, immediately concerned about Hazel's unusual behavior. "What's up?" "Nothing! I'mfine, seriously," Hazel said quickly, turning her back to Raya andpulling out two monstrous textbooks. "You'reprobably tired from last night, which I'm really sorry for again," shemumbled, still not looking at her.

  "Don't worry about it, it's fine I didn't mind,“she told hersincerely and walked around Hazel. "Babe,look at me, what's really going on with you?" When Hazel lifted herhead, her eyes were sparkling with tears. "I'msorry, okay? I shouldn't have unloaded everything on you, I know you'll see me differentlynow..." "Why should I? I'vealready known that you are a compassionate, hardworking, smart girl with such agreat passion," Raya said, gently tugging a strand of hair behindHazel's ear.

  Shesighed heavily, pushing her glasses up to rub at her eyes with her fingers. "I know, I know... ugh, I'm sorry, lastweek, Tuesday, was eight years since... since he died, I've been kind ofemotional lately." Raya leaned over, pressing a gentle kiss to Hazel'sforehead. "Come on, dinner should beabout ready now."

  "I'm not hungry, plus I /do/ really have alot of work to do," Hazel said. "Most peoplestart researching in residency, some do 4th year, but I want to get a kickstartand go as soon as possible," she said. "I'll eat a little later though, I promise." She reallyhadn't been hungry all week, but she hoped Raya hadn't noticed. Raya sighed "Alright. I'll put your food in thefridge so you can heat it up later," she said, figuring that there wasno point trying to convince her. "Justdon't get all caught up in your research and forget about eating, okay?" Shenodded. "Thank you," Hazelsaid gratefully, settling down at her desk and cracking open one of her books.

 Rayawordlessly headed back to the kitchen, returning with a mug of Hazel's favoritetea a few minutes later. "Here,"she said, setting the cup down with a warm smile. "Oh- thank you," Hazel said, looking up for just amoment. "No big deal," Rayareplied. "Let me know if you needanything else, okay?" She knew trying to pressure Hazel to talkwouldn't get them anywhere so she figured it would be best to just wait untilshe'd talk on her own

  Hazelworked for just over an hour before closing the book lightly and settling nextto Raya who was curled up on the couch by now. Raya smiled looking over atHazel. "Hey there. Done with yourstuff?" "For tonight atleast," Hazel said. "CanI... I mean, would it be alright if I talked about Reid for a little?""Of course. You can talk aboutanything you want." Raya said, sitting up cross legged on the couch, athrow blanket over her lap. "Readyto listen" she said with an encouraging smile.

 Hazelsmiled, laying her head on Raya's shoulder as she started to speak...

[sjwerewolfinc-blog]

Indelible

I don’t usually publish fanfic on Tumblr but why not, let’s give it a shot.  Rating: Explicit Summary: Anakin is a tattoo artist by profession. But some clientele are looking for more than just a tattoo. As a powerful caster from a long-standing clan, he offers a different sort of mark for those who need it. Obi-Wan is running from a dark coven intent on exploiting him for his gifts. He definitely needs Anakin's services. Anakin couldn’t stand the typical weekend night crowds that flooded his shop. Frat boys wanting greek symbols and sorority girls asking for cherries or chinese characters they didn’t understand. He hated it, but it paid the bills. He’d been gifted with two things in life. An understanding of cars and an understanding of how to put ink into skin.

He’d chosen the latter as his profession, becoming a certified tattoo artist at the age of 20. His maternal grandfather, Yoda, had drawn with him since he was a little boy and his mom had to work late shifts. He’d also, much to his mother’s chagrin, taught him magic. His mother was gifted with the craft as well but she rarely used it and didn’t approve of her son occasionally using it as part of his job. But sometimes something under his skin itched and he had to let it out. Sure he could work a spell at home like a normal witch or sorcerer, but his favorite outlet was imbuing his gift into permanent artwork. Such opportunities didn’t come along often but when they did they were always rewarding.

The shop was just about to close after another long Saturday night when an unusual patron walked in. He was more upper class than the usual clientele. His neat auburn hair and beard a dead giveaway. Anakin figured he was looking for more than the typical flash piece.

“What can I do for you?” He asked, not particularly interested.

“I was hoping for a symbol of protection.” The ginger stranger replied. So he was one of Them. The magical community looking for enhancements.

“What kind of protection and for what kind of caster?” Anakin asked, knowing only he and Ahsoka were left in the small shop.

“A comprehensive kind for a diviner. I’m willing to pay, of course.” The posh tones spoke of a man used to getting his way. “I was thinking a sigil of the moon.”

Anakin raised his eyebrows. That was powerful protection, indeed. “One session?” he asked.

“Yes. As soon as possible.” The man must have been running from something strong and fast.

“I can help you. But it won’t be cheap.”

“I would expect no less.” The man produced a handful of coins and thread, more valuable than cash. Anakin locked the door, flipped the ‘Closed’ sign, and turned off all the lights except the one in the back room. He gestured for the man to follow him

“What wards do you need? I have to know to work the spells.” He got his client situated in the backroom, Ahsoka looking on in curiosity.

“She’s my apprentice,” he said of the dark skinned girl. “She’s one of our kind. What do you need?”

“Conflation. To make my enemies think I’m somewhere else. And protection from a powerful enemy should they find me.”

“Any elemental preference?” Anakin asked.

“Water.” The man responded. At least he wasn’t an idiot. Using any other element with a moon sigil would have weakened the spell.

“Alright, backroom, take your shirt off. I’ll get my inks ready.”

Anakin wouldn’t admit it to many people but he lived for this. The magical aspect of ink. He had the ability to transfer magical intent into a kind of magic that only came about by mixing blood and skin with blessed ink. It was a powerful and deep kind of alchemy. He could leave permanent magic in people. Blessings, protections, wards against enemies...he had the power for it within his veins, and for a select few clients he could pass his gifts on, the magic just as permanent as the ink.

“What’s your name?” he asked as he shaved his client’s back down with a simple razor.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi.”

“That’s a good name. An old one.” Magical circles were small enough that name recognition wasn’t uncommon. Magic seemed to pass genetically in almost all cases.

“Maybe it used to be,” the man muttered. Anakin closed his eyes and willed the most effective lunar sigil for the case to come to his mind. Once he saw the image, he used a tracing pen on Obi-Wan’s skin, the mark going directly between his shoulder blades. For magical tattoos free hand was the only way that really worked for him. The stencil was an unnecessary middleman.

“Take a look in the mirror before we make it permanent,” he told his client. As the shirtless man walked to the mirror in the back, Anakin appreciated that he was fairly attractive. Toned but not overly muscular and with a dignified manner that made Anakin curious about chasing that put-together aura out the window. He reminded himself that this was a client in need of serious protection and not here to be ogled.

“It’s good,” the man said, returning to the chair that Ahsoka had sanitized. Anakin washed his hands and put on his gloves, applying a thin layer of Vaseline to the area.

“Have you ever been tattooed before?” Anakin asked. The man’s perfect unblemished skin seemed to be begging for it.

“No. But I can handle pain.” Was the stoic reply.

“Alright. But if you need to take a break, tell me. People who forget to breathe through the pain tend to pass out, and then it’s a whole thing for me to deal with.” The man laughed a bit at Anakin’s pseudo-sarcasm and the artist appreciated the sound.

The sigil was a geometric pattern inside a sphere, with small symbols representing certain lunar phases. The ancient symbols of waning stages represented what was hidden, and the strategically placed waxing symbols would grant strength if confronted by an enemy. He’d use black and dark blue inks, blending them to invoke the element of water.

Ahsoka came in to sit and watch Anakin enchant the inks. He brought them out from the locked and warded cupboard he kept magical supplies in. He had to make them himself, including substances like mountain ash leaves and juniper stems, which had been collected from his garden at certain times of night and burned to fine ash. The pigments had to be carefully created to be as powerful as possible.

He poured some black pigment into a large cap, then the blue. Finally he mixed a white paste with the blue ink to create a color that would accent and enhance the design. He used his favorite tattoo machine, the one he’d made himself and meticulously cleaned only a few moments ago.

The inks laid out, Anakin focused his energy on them. He chanted softly and kept an image in his mind of how perfectly the sigil and colors would sit with the man’s skin and spirit. How lunar energies could keep things hidden in their shadows and provide a refuge for those in need. And if need be, use those shadows to defeat enemies. The words were old and a combination of languages. The Slavic tongue his mother and grandfather used as well as some latin mixed in. He could feel his energy waking the inks up, how they wanted to be of use and serve their purpose. When he opened his eyes he found his client turned around to look at him.

“You’re quite powerful,” the bearded man said plainly.

“Hm. My grandfather says I have too much. That’ll it’ll eventually attract bad things my way. But not using it feels horrible after a while. Like being stuck in a cell.”

“I know the feeling,” Obi-Wan said softly. Anakin pulled a chair up behind his client as Obi-Wan straddled his own. For the placement this position would be easiest on both their backs. Ahsoka pulled her own chair up to watch.

“Snips, could you make sure the salve is ready for when we’re done? He’ll need to take some with him.”

“The comfrey stuff?” Ahsoka clarified.

“Yup. Practice your Healing intent on it.”

“Sure thing, Skyguy.” He felt a bit bad for Ahsoka. She was dealing with finals at her high school and was exhausted. She probably could have used the extra hours of sleep, but it had been a while since they had a magical request and she needed to learn.

He pressed the pedal that made his machine buzz to life and started in. He focused on Obi-Wan and on transferring his magic to this living canvas. Thoughts of protection, security, safety from ill-intent flooded his mind for the first part of the tattoo. He always lost himself like this. Time slipped away and became something you couldn’t measure with a clock or even words. He wiped as blood welled up, dipping his machine into the pigments again and continuing to leave magic grounded in skin. He pulled back, the first part of the tattoo which centered on protection was done. He’d have to take a break to recenter his intent.

“Quick break,” he told his client. “We’re almost halfway done.” Obi-Wan stood and turned around and looked startled when he saw Anakin.

“Oh, don’t worry,” Anakin assured his client. “It’s supposed to happen.” He was referring to his own tattoos, some of which only became visible when he practiced magic. He had one under his right eye, a thick red line that dropped into a curve at the end. There was also a fire sigil on the front of his neck that sometimes flickered as though caught in the light of a camp fire. His eyes were also likely changed. He knew that they filmed over and reds, oranges, and greys moved across them like particularly upset clouds in a stormy sky.

“I take it that fire is your element?” The man offered a half smile.

“It is,” Anakin said, stretching and holstering his machine. “But don’t worry. When it comes to blood and ink I can work with any element. I just need a few minutes to channel a different kind of energy for the power ups in case you’re found. There’s water in that mini fridge if you want it.”

The man nodded his thanks and Anakin sat in his chair in a semi-meditative state. He could feel power in his client and drew on it as well as his own to focus on the aggressive side of the piece. He thought of Obi-Wan being in danger and instilled a fierce sense of retaliation against anyone who would hurt him. Once he was ready he had the man sit back down and he resumed.

“You must make quite a living off of your craft,” his client commented.

“No. I don’t take every request for a magical tattoo. Not even most, actually. If I did half the practitioners in this town would be running around with elemental runes and sigils to attract love. Just as bad as all shitty flash out there and worse because it’s powerful.”

Obi-Wan huffed at that. “So why did you accept my request?”

Anakin finished on of the battle sigils. “You’re genuine. This isn’t personal gain for you, it’s a tool in a survival kit. I don’t always read intents particularly well but you seemed honest. And I can read intent once I’m working with someone’s skin. So now I know you’re honest.” He paused after that. “And you’re not bad looking, which doesn’t hurt.” He couldn’t see Obi-Wan’s face but he knew he smiled at that.

There wasn’t much talking after that. Anakin had finished the bulk of the piece, and now it was just the accented lighter blue left.

He changed needles and began shading around the thicker outlines of the piece, creating soft swirls that offset the black and dark blue shapes. He wiped his client’s back one more time and leaned back.

“Okay, you’re all set. Just sit like that for about ten more minutes. I wanna let it bleed a bit and then Ahsoka will get you set up with salve and bandaging.

Anakin walked around so he could dispose of his inks and take his machine to the back for cleaning later. He snapped his black gloves off and tossed the in the hazardous waste bin along with the paper towels and anything else that had come into contact with blood or plasma. He could feel Obi-Wan’s eyes on him the whole time.

Anakin didn’t know what prompted it but he felt compelled to ask. “Are you safe for tonight?”

“Safer now than I was a couple of hours ago. I’ve been staying in a hotel and haven’t noticed anything strange there.”

“A hotel?” Anakin scoffed. For the kind of protection he’d paid for in the tattoo he needed to be somewhere safer than a hotel. “You could stay with us. Whatever is after you is serious. A hotel is no place for you to be with that kind of trouble.”

“No, I can’t risk you being in danger. You’ve already done enough by working such powerful magic for me. If the man chasing me is here, he could have felt it.”

“Then I’d be a target anyway. You may as well stay somewhere with real wards. Ahsoka and I have a small house just outside the city and a couch that pretty comfortable. Plus you might need help applying salve to your own back for a few days.” Anakin noticed how tired Obi-Wan looked suddenly. He’d clearly been on the run for some time. “Come on. Home cooked meals and better magical protection. At least for a day or two. Our kind has to look out for each other.”

“Alright, I suppose it would be nice to rely on more than traveler’s wards. Thank you, it’s very kind of you.”

Anakin grinned. “No problem. Oh, and I didn’t tell you my name. Anakin Skywalker,” he said, pulling a new trash bag out. “Nice to meet you.” He smiled at the ginger man. “And this is Ahsoka Tano.” The girl smiled tiredly and pushed her braids behind her ear, approaching Obi-Wan with the salve.

Anakin inspected it. “Nice job, Snips. This has a really good energy.”

“Duh. I do know how to make healing salves after over a year of being your apprentice.”

“I love you too,” he smiled back. Ahsoka put on a glove and spread the salve over the fresh tattoo. Then she used paper towels and saran wrap to create a temporary bandage. “You can take that off after a couple hours. It’s really to prevent blood and plasma from getting on everything you touch and minimizing risk for infection. Ahsoka and I can follow you to your hotel if you need to get your stuff.”

Obi-Wan nodded and the two artists got to shutting down the shop. Anakin noticed as Obi-Wan exited the hotel that he didn’t have much. Just one suitcase.

“Are you sure about taking in someone who’s on the run?” Ahsoka asked.

“I have a good feeling about him. Plus I took you in,” he grinned. Ahsoka had to give him that.

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Obi-Wan wasn’t sure exactly what he was doing as he followed Anakin and Ahsoka down the highway. What if they told people about him? What if they wanted to use him for his abilities? Though someone as powerful as Anakin likely wouldn’t have need of them. Even as they’d left the shop the man’s eyes looked like a grey sky with red clouds. It was so otherworldly and frankly beautiful. Ahsoka had told him that when Anakin worked strong magic that happened. He usually had to go for a run or a work out in order for the energy to dissipate. Or as she’d insinuated, other activities would do the trick. He was a bit troubled that someone as young as Ahsoka was romantically involved with her employer but it was none of his business.

Perhaps he’d get some actual sleep tonight. These days his sleep was plagued with nightmares of the syndicate chasing him. He was running not just from one man in particular, but that man’s coven. They dealt exclusively in dark magic and they wanted Obi-Wan. And there was another catch. What if Anakin and Ahsoka found out that he wasn’t just a diviner? Diviners and seers weren’t particularly uncommon in their community. But Obi-Wan was a blood mage. If he had a sample of someone’s blood he could manipulate them. He wouldn’t, of course, but he could. And words written in his blood were more powerful than runes or sacrifices in spell work. The fact that his blood had magical properties also gave him visions from time to time of events that could sometimes be prevented or encouraged. Frankly he hated what he was. It had never brought him anything but trouble. He’d rather be an elemental caster like Anakin and Ahsoka. Or nothing at all. Just a normal person with a job and a family. And now the leader of a dark coven wanted him for his power. He’d seen in visions what the man wanted. To torture him, use his blood, convince him to become dark and gain power for them. He’d die first.

Pulling his thoughts together he noticed they were approaching their destination. Finally, after many dark and winding side roads, Anakin’s car pulled up in front of a modest two story wooden home. Obi-Wan could feel the powerful protective wards and shields everywhere. He followed the artists up the small set of steps, suitcase in hand. Anakin keyed open the door and turned on the lights.

“It’s not much but it’s home.” He said, sweeping his arm out. There was a living room with a large but beaten looking couch and a small kitchen behind it. “The bathroom is down that hallway. My room is at the end of it. Ahsoka’s room is upstairs along with a second bathroom. Help yourself to anything in the kitchen whenever you want. Though I’m going whip up some stir fry if you want any.”

The interior was warm and welcoming. It spoke of being well lived in but not neglected. There were pictures on the walls of Anakin and a woman that looked to be his mother. He assumed the small elderly man was his grandfather. There were some of him and Ahsoka, his arm around her and her often making faces at him.

He cleaned up in the bathroom and went back to the kitchen to see if he could be of use for dinner, late as it was. Ahsoka was already at the small dinner table, SAT prep books and chemistry notes spread about. Was Anakin in a relationship with a high schooler?!

Ahsoka looked up. “Hey, do you happen to know anything about trigonometry? I have a test in a couple days.”

Obi-Wan usually prided himself on having tact but he found the words coming out of his mouth of their own accord. “Are the two of you dating?”

Ahsoka stared at him and burst into peals of laughter. He could also hear Anakin’s amused huffs as he chopped vegetables.

“I promise, I don’t date minors,” Anakin said, grinning at him.

“Anakin took me in,” Ahsoka said. “Our families were in the same community growing up. But then my dad did something unforgivable and was banished. My mom couldn’t handle it so she bailed. I was thirteen and Anakin was nineteen and already a tattoo apprentice with a caster. He caught me trying to break into a place nearby one night.”

“My mom and grandfather were off traveling and I was already living on my own,” Anakin added. “This place was my dad’s and he willed it to me. So I told Ahsoka she could crash with me. Eventually we pulled some strings and my mom became her legal guardian, even though they’d never met.”

“But Skyguy’s my actual guardian. I mean he’s the one who technically took me in and made sure I was going to school and eating. Then I started hanging around his shop and decided that I wanted to be a tattoo artist, too.”

Obi-Wan felt foolish though relieved as well. “I apologize for my assumption. I just wanted to make sure that no one was being taken advantage of.”

“It’s fine,” Anakin smiled. “Wanna help chop some of these vegetables up?” Obi-Wan complied readily. They worked in an easy silence, Ahsoka studying and Anakin and himself making food. Anakin seasoned the vegetable and rice in a way that smelled fantastic. “Ahsoka, can you clean the table off so we can eat on it?” He asked his charge, who grumbled good naturedly but did so.

Anakin poured wine for himself and Obi-Wan as they all sat down to eat. The food was simple but it was the best Obi-Wan had had in a long time. Afterwards Ahsoka yawned and headed upstairs for bed. Obi-Wan insisted on cleaning up but Anakin pointed out he’d helped cook, so they’d both do it. When dinner was cleaned up Obi-Wan was given a clean towel and instructions to wash his tattoo with unscented soap.

However as soon as he was in the bathroom with his shirt off, he realized his problem. “Um, Anakin?” he called out. The tall man was instantly in the doorway, eyes still looking inhuman. He grinned and gestured for Obi-Wan to turn around. He gently undid the bandaging and and pulled the wrap and paper towels off, tying them off in a trash bag.

“Need help washing this?” With Anakin’s full height and deep voice just behind him, Obi-Wan had to fight the thrill of want that went through his body. He collected his dignity as best he could.

“Yes, I don’t think I can reach.”

“Okay, sit on the edge.” Obi-Wan sat on the edge of the tub as Anakin turned the shower head on. He got to a warm temperature before directing it at Obi-Wan’s back. Anakin’s warm hands soothed the liquid soap down his back and Obi-Wan had to close his eyes at how good it felt. All too soon Anakin stood. “Did you uh, need me to leave so you can take a full shower?”

Obi-Wan opened his eyes and knew they probably looked glazed. “Yes, after hotels and sleeping in my car, I’d like to take a full shower.”

Anakin nodded and was gone, the bathroom door closed. Obi-Wan sighed. He was in trouble.

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In his room, Anakin berated himself for getting so close. ‘Oh sure, invite the stranger on the run home because you think he’s hot. Then practically give him a bath. As if someone like him wants anything to do with a caster who spends his energy on tattoos.’ The guy was polished, handsome, intelligent, and polite. He could have anyone he wanted. Anakin seemed to only attract people who were more into his profession than they were into him. There’d only been one person in his life who didn’t treat him like a free tattoo connection and he’d taken off the second he realized that Anakin wasn’t just a guy who thought Wicca was cool, but that he cast actual spells and his eyes sometimes didn’t look normal. In fact Ferus had arrived unannounced at his house while Anakin had been working a consecration spell on the garden, seen his eyes, yelled something about him being demonic, and he’d never seen him again. Ahsoka said she never like the asshole anyway and how was Anakin supposed to really trust anyone if they couldn’t handle a simple spell?

Obi-Wan could clearly handle a lot, which made it all the more unfair that he was almost certainly unattainable. Anakin heard the shower shut off and Obi-Wan emerged from the bathroom wearing a pair of sweatpants Anakin had loaned him and nothing else. “You should air dry,” Anakin said. “The tattoo, I mean, let it air dry and then I’ll put more salve on it. I can make tea while it dries, to encourage healing.” ‘God, smooth, real smooth, Skywalker’, he thought.

He took the infuser in the kitchen and made quick work of brewing an herbal tea. He kept it on hand with as clumsy as he and Ahsoka could be. His guest accepted a cup and the sat in the quiet kitchen.

“I really can’t thank you enough,” Obi-Wan said, breaking the silence. “You’ve done so much for me and you had no reason to trust me.”

“Mom always taught me to do right be people. Especially people who need a little help.”

“It shows in you,” Obi-Wan smiled. People strong in the fire element were rumored to be quick tempered, unpleasant, and manipulative. But Anakin had always taken pride in breaking stereotypes.

“We should get that salve on you so you can get some sleep,” Anakin said. “Come on, I keep a ton of it in my room.” He led Obi-Wan back down the hallway and into his bedroom. It was a pretty simple room, if cluttered with drawings. He had a large sketch pad up on an easel and charcoals laid out seemingly everywhere. Drawings he was still working on were taped to the walls. Some of them magical in nature but many of them portraits, still lifes of flowers, animals mid motion or profiles of wolves and large cats. Some were marked with client names and dates. Anakin watched as Obi-Wan made his way to a charcoal portrait of Ahsoka he was working on.

“You’re incredibly talented,” Obi-Wan said. “I mean with magic, obviously, but you’re a very gifted artist.” Anakin tried not to blush and failed.

“Thanks. I’ve only been good at a few things in my life. I was lucky to be able to make a living at it.” He dug through his nightstand for the salve, purposefully pushing the lube to the back of the drawer.

“I very much doubt it’s luck. Not many people in the world share your skill set. And you’ve clearly put in long hours to perfect your artistry.” Anakin pulled a jar of the comfrey salve out and unscrewed the lid. He looked up and caught Obi-Wan staring at him. The man wasn’t just looking but actually staring. Oh, right, his eyes.

“I know the eye thing puts people off. By tomorrow they’ll be back to normal though,” he stammered. He brushed his hair behind his ear self-consciously.

“No, I’m sorry for staring. It’s just they’re quite beautiful.” Oh. No one had ever said that about his eyes when they were sparking restlessly with the remnants of magic. And Obi-Wan was still looking at him, his pale skin a bit flushed. Gods, did he, did he want Anakin? Well, fire was the element of rash decisions, as his mother always reminded him.

He approached the older man Obi-Wan didn’t back away or make an excuse. Anakin stood toe to toe with him, looking down slightly because of his height and then he ducked down that last little bit and pressed his lips against Obi-Wan’s. It wasn’t forceful but it wasn’t a gentle touch either. It was insistent, sure of Anakin’s intent.

He was about to pull away, ready to assure the man that he would never expect physical comfort in exchange for shelter when Obi-Wan put a hand in his hair and kissed back. He felt the man’s tongue against his lips and gladly opened, moaning as a hot tongue slid into his mouth. Anakin put an arm around Obi-Wan’s waist and gently walked them back to his bed. He sat down on the edge, tugging the auburn haired man down with him. “You don’t have to,” Anakin panted out as Obi-Wan’s hands went under the hem of his black t shirt.

There was a tug of teeth on his lower lip at that. “I know,” he said. “I just very much want to.” And there was no arguing with that. Anakin helped get his own shirt off and attacked the man’s neck, working his way from ear to shoulder, mouth hot and tongue sliding over where teeth scraped. He felt Obi-Wan moan and push him back onto the bed. Obi-Wan was gazing at his chest, fingers reaching out to touch the tattoos there.

A large phoenix covered most of Anakin’s right side, from hip bone just underneath his armpit. A stylized fox sat on his right pectoral, curled in sleep under stars that covered his collar bone. His own sigil of protection reached from the middle of his left collarbone down to just above his navel. It was a complicated geometric pattern in blacks and reds, meant to enhance power and his ability to protect his loved ones. He’d had it done just after Ahsoka had officially become part of his family. There were other, smaller marks scattered about his chest. Some he’d done himself and others were from friends. Mostly small runes, brief incantations that only those raised by magic folk would know. And that was just his torso. Obi-Wan had already seen his arms which were fully saturated by ink.

“So beautiful,” Obi-Wan murmured, tracing the fire sigil down his body with two fingers. Having another magic user touching him like that felt incredible. He could feel the lines and colors hum approvingly along his body. It was a very new and very appreciated experience. He pulled Obi Wan into another kiss and onto his lap. Gods, they were both already hard. He ran his nails lightly down that pale chest, then moved up to bite at already peaked nipples. Obi-Wan tugged his hair at that and fuck it was good. He was mindful of the fresh ink between the man’s shoulder blades but thoroughly enjoyed licking and sucking at his chest.

When Obi-Wan returned the favor Anakin groaned and made to get his pants off as soon as possible. He wanted to take his time but the magic from his work earlier demanded a release soon, and he wasn’t sure he’d ever get another chance to be with this man. With little effort they were both naked and it was Anakin’s turn to admire his partner. He sucked marks into the chest as Obi-Wan groaned and pulled at his hair so perfectly. He moved his hands down until they brushed at the erect cock. He suddenly very much needed to have that in his mouth. Standing, he pulled Obi-Wan to the edge of the bed and got on his knees.

“Oh, Anakin,” the man moaned, pupils blown at the sight of him on his knees. If that wasn’t hot Anakin wasn’t sure what was. He started with the base of the man’s cock, slowly sliding up it, sucking at parts of it along the way. He swirled his tongue around the head and started taking the length in earnest, using his tongue to keep the cock wet, letting his saliva move down it and make it easier. Obi-Wan was panting and swearing and Anakin reached down to tease his own erection. He loved the weight against his tongue and he wanted to swallow around the man again and again.

Suddenly the hands in his hair were tugging him up. Anakin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, concerned. “Not what you like?” he asked.

“No, it was perfect too good. But that’s not how I want to come.”

He stood partially and pressed a filthy, open mouthed kiss to his partner’s lips. “How do you want to come?” He was pretty sure he’d let this man do just about anything he wanted to him.

“I want to fuck you,” he said bluntly, eyes and voice dark. And Anakin was so on board with that plan. He could barely the remember the last time he’d had anything in him that wasn’t his dildo.

He scrambled around in the bedside drawer and found the lube. “Shit! I don’t have any condoms. It’s uh, it’s been awhile,” he said.

Obi-Wan took the lube and gave him a serious look. “I don’t have any either. But I can tell you that I’ve been tested recently and I’m clean. But it’s up to you. You’d be taking the larger risk.”

“I’m clean,” Anakin nodded, leaning in for another kiss. “I work with needles so I get tested every three months in case. Hasn’t been anyone since then.” Obi-Wan nodded and brought him back for a lengthy kiss. He took the bottle of lube from Anakin and pushed the younger man back against the pillows. Coating his fingers he left his own marks on Anakin’s chest as one of his fingers circled gently around the tight entrance. Once he Anakin relaxed, he felt Obi-Wan’s index finger slide in, and the man moved down his body to tease his cock with small licks. Anakin groaned and placed the flats of his feet on the mattress, giving his partner better access. Then there was a second finger and it burned a bit but it was so worth it. For long minutes Obi-Wan just played with him like that, scissoring his fingers, licking at his cock and balls until Anakin thought he could just die like that and be happy.

Then Obi-Wan prodded a bit, curled his fingers slightly and Anakin shouted in pleasure. He wanted to touch himself but he didn’t want Obi-Wan’s mouth to go anywhere. A third finger stretched him and fuck, he just needed the man’s cock inside him right now.

“Just a bit more patience,” Obi-Wan murmured, laughing a bit. Anakin protested but all he could manage was a thrust of his hips and and a something that sounded like “un”. Then the man was pushing his hair back from his face and lining himself up. He pushed in gently, the first ring of muscle protesting a bit but the pain was so perfect.

“Alright?” Obi-Wan asked. He appreciated the concern but he needed more than concern.

“Want you to fuck me hard,” Anakin ground out. He knew his eyes but be dark grey and red now but he didn’t care. “I need it so much.” The magic was pushing him and he didn’t care if he was begging. Hell, Obi-Wan seemed to like it. His partner withdrew and pushed back in hard, causing Anakin to cry out and buck his hips again. He wrapped his ankles around the man’s lower back, digging his nails in hard.

“Is this what you need?” Obi-Wan demanded, pounding in again, cock brushing Anakin’s prostate.

“Yes, yes,” was all he could manage. Obi-Wan changed the angle of his hips a bit and started fucking him in earnest, hard and hot and so perfect. He was so hard it hurt and god he didn’t think he’d ever been fucked like this when he really needed it. “Love it, so good,” he said against Obi-Wan’s skin.

Obi-Wan was just as gone as he was, fingers leaving bruises in his hips and looking up at him, Anakin knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. The sight of the composed man, lost in passion while he could feel his cock filling him up was hot as hell. He felt his orgasm building and knew he wasn’t going to last much longer. He wrapped his own hand around his leaking shafted and started pumping. He didn’t scream as he came but it was a near thing. His vision went white for a moment as he felt his body let go of the energy magic it had been holding for too long.

He didn’t realize it but he must have passed out for a moment. When he opened his eyes Obi-Wan was sitting beside him, pressing a cool cloth to his forehead. He moaned happily at the sensation of cum running out of him.

“Are you alright?” The grey-green eyes were concerned but he caught the edge of smugness and grinned up at him.

“I’m very good,” he laughed, standing to go clean himself properly in the bathroom. When he came back Obi-Wan already had his sweatpants back on. “You should sleep here,” he smiled widely. “I have an extra comforter and it’s nicer than the couch.”

Obi-Wan laughed and got into bed.

“What’s so funny?” Anakin asked, feigning indignance.

“You look practically stoned,” his bedmate laughed.

“It’s an endorphin thing after the magic releases,” he murmured, instructing Obi-Wan to turn over so he could apply the salve to his tattoo.

“I could feel it, the magic.” Obi-Wan said. “It was incredible. Like this tidal wave of energy with your personal signature on it. It felt like...blood and ink and the heat from a fire place.”

“No one’s ever said they felt it before,” Anakin mused, finishing his application of the ointment. He was basically stoned, and very sleepy. He used the wet cloth to wipe his hands and turned off the light, leaving only the bedside lamp. Getting comfortable in bed he turned towards Obi-Wan and said a soft good night. The last thing he felt was a kiss against his forehead.