#my brain is a puddle right now but i've been thinking about the last part since morning

[sandyca5tle]

Slime HRT - 24 Months

Well, these past couple months have been hell, with a light at the end of the tunnel that I’ve now reached, but still. Anyway, on with the show…

So, before I get into the really gritty stuff, my jaw and teeth were converted pretty early on, as well as my ear bones. The former were a little funky, but honestly nothing really changed there, since I already don’t need to chew things, losing my teeth was no big deal, and for the latter, there was a small blip in my hearing - for a few minutes - but then it came back, honestly better than before. I wasn’t super worried about the hearing loss, particularly after eyes taste and smell, only how long I'd be deaf for, but fortunately, as I said, it really wasn't a problem. I’m pretty sure that my slime has just replaced my inner ear’s function innately, and since hearing is just interpreted vibrations, and slime is pretty good at vibrating. What was and has been nice is the cat ears I made a few months back can now actually function, which took a little getting used to, but my hearing is super good now, if a little overwhelming at times.

Right, on to the less pleasant parts: Remember how in the last update I said that apparently you know when your brain goes, yeah, that’s true, and it’s ‘cause it’s genuinely the most painful, disorienting, and scary thing I have ever experienced. First of all, unlike a lot of other changes, it kinda just goes all at once - I think it’s a survival thing, the brain/core wouldn’t function while being half transformed, and it’d probably kill you if they tried to. Only issue is that this means that your brain basically dissolves over the course of a few hours, which is excruciating, and the weeks leading up to that absolutely suck as well.

The first thing I noticed was the pain - headaches, some of the worst I’ve ever had (which I know I’ve said a lot over the course of this, but I was fortunate before to have very little issues, and turns out transforming your whole body hurts). I tried to take some painkillers to help, but they don’t seem to work any more - not sure if it’s ‘cause my biology is so different now, or ‘cause my body breaks them down too well, but either way they don’t work, so I had to suffer through the pain.

Either on top of or because of the pain, I've had a general sense of disorientation. It started off as just sometimes getting a little turned around in games and the like, but it progressed to getting lost if I tried to go anywhere (which was compounded by some other stuff too). Frankly it's a good thing in the final days before my brain changed that I hurt too much to go anywhere, else I probably would have ended up somewhere entirely unknown at a really vulnerable stage in my transformation.

I also have had some memory issues while things have worked things out. My memory has never been amazing in the first place, but I started to get very forgetful, forgetting appointments, plans, even eating (I'd usually ‘remember’ when I started idly eating random things I had around, which has meant I've lost a few things, but I don't remember what so I'm keep finding things I need to replace). I’m also pretty sure I lost some older memories too, but it’s really hard to tell if that’s from normal forgetting or forgetting ‘cause my brain was becoming mush, it’s kinda scary not knowing. This is also part of what compounded my disorientation - when telling left from right is getting hard, forgetting where you're even meant to go or have come from only makes things worse. Also, try reforming yourself from a puddle when you barely remember what you were before… definitely had some interesting shapes recently. Honestly, it was terrifying, I actually didn't know if I'd ever be able to remember things again (obviously I can, but I didn't know that at the time, and my memory of that period are sketchy at best)

Of course, the pain I mentioned earlier made it hard to focus on things, but even beyond that my ability to focus seemed to vanish. I have been so easily distracted over the past couple of months. Genuinely a glint of light or something could completely draw my attention from whatever I was doing, and then I'd usually completely forget what I was doing, get distracted by something else and wonder off. I apparently walked off in the middle of so many games and videos and just any activity I was doing. Frankly it's a miracle that I have any notes, or remember enough to actually write this entry, I kinda spent most of this last month piecing together what I do remember and have notes of (the notes are not the most legible, worse than my normal handwriting which is awful anyways (there's a reason I type these updates)). 

On top of all this, I also had nightmares and hallucinations. The former sucked, but honestly asides from waking up in some weird shapes in attempts to either fight or defend myself from whatever was jumping me in the nightmare (assuming it was a monster one) they were over once I woke up. The hallucinations were worse, since they could appear at any time, and oh boy do they seem real. Sometimes they were small things, noises, or a shape in my periphery. Other times they were blurry, intimidating figures in the distance. And of course with my inability to focus on things, these hallucinations would only be another thing to distract my addled brain. The worst though, was waking up from a nightmare, a puddle unable to reform, and the nightmare continuing as a hallucination in the real world. That'd usually shake me up for a day - and annoyingly my memory issues didn't really seem to extend to them. I'm still working out what was real and fake from that time, and it has not been easy, or fun. My ‘brain’ feels like goddamn soup whenever I think about that time. 

On top of everything else, sometimes I'd faint. Sometimes due to pain, other times (particularly towards the end of the transformation) I'd just keel over, only to wake up in a puddle of myself. It was really disconcerting and scary… kinda felt like my brain was just cutting out, and I was a little scared it might not cut back in at some point… and of course that’s one of the things I remember clearly, the fear and worry of that - very clear that the ‘remember bad shit’ survival instinct was and still is functioning, as annoying as that is.

Since I don't particularly want to linger on those thoughts more than I already have, an interesting thing to note is that even through all of this, my actual mental faculties didn't diminish - while I was forgetful and distracted, if I managed to make myself, I found myself just as capable as before. I partially did this to help assure myself I wasn't losing myself, but also because, let's be honest, slimes aren't known for being the brightest bunch, and I've been a little worried this whole time that I'd get dumber or something. The pamphlet I was given didn't really say anything about this happening, but I know from trans hrt that the information your given doesn't always include every possible effect (I know it certainly failed to mention the attention issues during the most recent stage, and the blindness from before) 

But, despite last month being basically the worst month of my life, I have survived, albeit a little scrambled, and I'm slowly putting everything back together. And of course, now, there's nothing human left in me! I'm all slime!!! (It makes me so unbelievably happy to be able to say that now).

Interestingly, unlike everything else, my brain hasn't fully gone, instead I ended up with what I quickly realised is a slime core! For those unfamiliar, slimes can have a core, which is essentially like their brain/major organ inside them, usually looking like a small coloured sphere. While slimes are usually pretty hard to damage permanently, damage done to a slimes core can be very debilitating, like heart, brain, or lung damage for humans and stuff. 

I actually think I had a kind of proto-core before hand, but didn't notice it, and I think it came around about when my digestive system was changed, since I think my core manages matter-to-slime conversion (I'm guessing this ‘cause that's improved since my core has now fully formed). I guess I didn’t spy it before ‘cause it was too small or something?

On that note, my core is/looks like, interestingly, a kind of verdant green gem. It mostly just seems to float inside of my goo, although I can move it around my body wherever I like, but I tend to keep it either right in the middle of my torso, or in the middle of my chest (at least in human form). Both areas have a decent amount of goo protecting my core, and it looks neat to have it there. 

It does actually look really pretty, especially when taken outside of my body (don't worry, it can be taken out of my body, so long as it remains in contact with my goo I'm completely fine), and yeah, just kinda looks like a funky green stone/gem. I am curious as to why it's green, and I'm kinda hoping it's gonna boost the efficiency of my photosynthesis, and that it's green ‘cause of chlorophyll, but I don't honestly know yet, need some nice sunny days to properly test it out. 

I did find out that if my core does become separated from my goo, I can just reform another body from stored goo around the core, leaving the old body to fall (but I can just reabsorb it afterwards to maintain mass). Oh, and before anyone worries that I was being reckless, I made sure to check that I wouldn't die before I tested anything.

On the note of stored goo, it seems like excess goo/matter is stored in the core, like fat in humans. I'm not sure what or if there's a limit or what happens if I try to eat too much, but as far as I've gotten for now, it seems to be fine. I have noticed that I actually seem lighter now, I still seem to weigh about as much as I look like I should (maybe slightly over) and as such it changes if I make myself grow bigger, but not really if I eat things. I'm not entirely sure quite what's going on there, as that seems like some physics defying shit, but it's actually super useful, means I can store as much mass as I'd like and not break the sofa when I sit down. 

So asides from all of those experiences and changes, I've found a couple other things that have sprung up from these changes. Firstly, I've found that my body feels much more coherent, I'm very much now one gelatinous entity, rather than bits of one and bits of another. Movement feels much more fluid now, especially outside of a humanoid form (not that I've gotten worse at being humanoid, just better at everything else) and I honestly find myself kind of hot swapping between slime ball and slime girl as I need/feel like it. Also navigating crowds is super easy now, just kinda slipping and moving between any gaps (I could kinda do this before, but again, now it feels so second nature). On top of this, my multitasking seems to have improved. I still can’t say one thing while writing another, but I've gotten better at physical multitasking; I struggle less coordinating my ‘hands’ when I try playing the piano for example (I still can't play it, but I've got more of the coordination for it). Add in that I can very easily have several limbs/pseudopods/whatever you want to call them at once (which is honestly why I think my multitasking has improved, it's to facilitate control of the numerous structures I can now produce) and it’s become very easy to manage multiple, physical, tasks at once. 

One thing I have noticed myself doing, almost subconsciously (and honestly, this might've started a little before now, but I'll talk about it here, since I've really noticed it now), I'll just adjust my body however I need in the moment. Now, this may sound kind of obvious, but it's a little funky (but mostly neat) to just suddenly grow an extra limb, or pseudopod to hold or grab something quickly, or to just adjust my mass to better balance or manage something. Again, very neat, but a little funky to realise when I didn't consciously think about it. 

Relatedly, shaping has become easier, not sure if that's due to practise, or having a more compatible neurological centre, but I seem to be able to shape myself quicker, and I seem to have gained a better memory for shape too, the latter is definitely due to recent changes, or at least, definitely due to the treatment.

I've  also still been working on my acid control, which feels like it's gotten easier, but again I can't say whether that's from practice or the recent changes, but I can at least somewhat reliably keep an area of my body acid free now for a bit.

Unrelated to the treatment, but I'm actually much shorter now, at least in my humanoid form, clocking in at around 4’4”(slime ball form has remained the same size, at around 30cm tall). I always liked the idea of being really small, and I can now, and it's not like it really offers any disadvantages, since I can just reach tendrils up to grab things from high up (with eyes/vision so I can see what I'm doing), plus it means I have more spare slime to spend on other, more fun things than just being tall. This all being said, the idea of using all my slime to become really big also has its appeals, but it's less practical for day to day life. 

To touch on one final thing, I definitely don't feel human anymore. I'm a slime, through and through, humanity is just a memory. I've mentioned before feeling more and more detached from humanity (if I ever felt truly attached) as this process has gone on, but now that I'm seemingly done, I don't feel human at all. Interestingly, I find this aspect has been remarkably similar to gender transition, with the feeling of being a guy slowly fading away until it seemed alien to think of myself as one, which kinda feels like where I'm at at the moment. I'll likely catch myself still including myself in humanity from time to time for a while, but I can safely say I'm a slime, and I am so happy I can now. So that’s what my life has been for the last couple of months, and while parts sucked - like, really sucked - the end result is so unbelievably worth it. While this feels like the end of slime hrt, I do have an appointment planned with the doc to talk about my next step and hopefully get myself onto shapeshifter hrt, so my next update will probably be about that. See y’all then!

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Tag list below cut (lmk if you want to be added)

@calliecwrites, @friedsputnik, @now-entering-the-goop-zone, @scrubbinn, @lilacinthefog

@mint-and-authoress, @losttodreams, @redroversendjayover, @ariathelamia, @kanithedemoncat

[agirlandherquill]

through the puddles of ink

since it's a new academic year, a new chapter of my life and i thought, since i've been on tumblr for around eight months now that it's about time i properly introduced myself - this would shock the person i was when i first started this blog, but as it's grown so have i, and i think university has indefinitely helped my confidence - so, without further ado, here goes i'll start this properly by explaining the title of this post - through the puddle of ink

ink is important because obviously it is the basis of literature, the foundation of stories and fitting to my blog name, you dip the quill in the ink to write, to forge an adventure that tests the imagination and takes a reader to wonderful places and puddles because let's face it, ink is messy, ink is chaotic, just like me, my characters, and my writing and because through the looking glass is a very iconic title i also watched that movie in the cinema years ago, i took inspiration, and here we are now - this post is a reflection of me, the beautiful nightmares and writing gremlins that co-exist within my brain and a way for me to get to better know my mutuals, anyone and everybody on writeblr!

here comes the scary part - only for me, and my semi-awkward self - introducing myself, i've never been very good at this stuff so bear with me - and have mercy on my nervous soul,

for the longest time i've loved the sort of self-imposed anonymity of this blog, and don't get me wrong i still do adore my blog name but I thought it was about time I properly introduced myself, so, let me just shuffle some papers in the library of my mind, find the right phrasing for this and... (cue angry hitting of the keyboard) hello! my name is Erin and i'm a writer, a lover of chaos, and a semi-functioning tempest somehow existing within society - i love and ramble about lots of different things - books, shows, songs, you name it, i can waffle and sometimes i can waffle well (that is how i am now going to describe my writing, because it feels like it fits so well)

phew, i got that out, that tiny paragraph was a lot of effort (and i've beaten writers block more often than i can count)

this little post might not seem like much, but to me it's a lot, and i'm happy to have made it this far, and i'm so looking forward to continuing to grow alongside this blog and writeblr (i love you all, no seriously)

and now onto some very much needed rambling about my works, because there's a lot the lovely folk of writeblr are yet to know (and it will come, in time, but here's what i can say for now)

Ruin's Reprisal - we all know the tale of this, my oldest, most functioning (cough, using that term loosely) work - well, where to start? well, i'm on the final stage of proofreading, and once that's all done i'm hoping (let's be honest, dreaming,) to have the final draft complete and out in the great wide world come christmas/new year (that is a courageous goal, even for me, but who knows, maybe i can pull it off, just maybe)

A Deal Of Daggers - it's almost time for nanowrimo, which marks two years since the idea for this first came to me, and i cannot wait to spend autumn working on it (not that i am participating in nano properly this year, what with student-life obligations, but i'm going to write what i can) and i've been steadily chipping away with a few chapters already

those are my two main works, and probably the only works i've been focusing on over the last couple of months - and i've fallen completely and wholeheartedly in love with them all over again, as i do, every single time i open the files on scrivener

as far as my tired but over-eager to write brain can think this should be it for everything i wanted to include in this post until the next post (which won't be long, i can guarantee it),

~ Erin, A Girl and Her Quill, or whatever this hellscape would like to call me :)

~ ~ ~

now for the tag list! (i forgot to add it when i posted, oops!)

(p.s if you'd like to be included/notified too, interact with this post :))

@humbly-a-doppelganger @imawholeassmood @frostedlemonwriter @yrndrgn @abditorywriting

@riveriafalll @lead-to-code @casualsuitturtle @floweryprosegarden @joeys-piano

@catwingsathena @godsmostfuckedupgoblin @nothoughtsjustmhaandotherthings @anaisbebe

@drchenquill @leahnardo-da-veggie @tiredpapergirl @pastelpinkhobbies

[twistednuns]

February 2024

Waking up after a dream inspired by the movie Poor Things. Inserting your brain into a younger body. Living in oblivion until one day somebody shows up to break the news to you. That you've lived another lifetime before and you have to be reminded of who you were, what you knew.

Drawing the gorgeous Sharing card, resonating with it right away. The Queen of Fire is designed in my colours and shapes. She is me.

Sketching something. Loving every line.

Eating a thick soup with tiny noodles and semolina dumplings for breakfast.

Jamie Lee Curtis' guest appearance in The Bear. She's almost unrecognizable. Oh, and Olivia Coleman's, too!

Something finally falling into place: I've been searching for a new wallet for a while now and suddenly a memory of my grandma's old Aigner checkbook popped into my head. And it was the perfect solution. What an amazing local brand! I discovered that there is a store nearby and shopping there was quite the experience. I felt very fancy. And they put so much thought into the product design! Perfect little boxes and everything is so elegant. I also got their classic leather belt.

Organising a SingStar evening. I love how easygoing, welcoming and gentle Felix is. Being weird with Robert. And Ben, my boo. We love each other's colours and he really does give the best compliments (he said that I've got such great taste and always look stylish). Cuddles, leveling up our friendship in a way. Being more at ease around each other.

Car conversations with Luna.

A feeling of having leveled up again; I seem to attract abundance (on a material level). But maybe that's just confirmation bias.

Accepting defeat when I was wrong, following advice.

The moonrise. I love how big and yellow the moon seems when it's hanging low over the horizon.

Liquid Love: sliding over/around/under/on top of each other - blindfolded, naked and covered in oil. I loved touching squishy, chubby body parts. Very sensual and immersive. I wasn't really present in the room anymore and tried to feel rather than think. Cuddle puddle afterwards. I got close to Chili and Daniel (whose toe I accidentally hurt before the event and it felt quite healing that he came close to me and initiated touch) and Christian surprised me with his tongue when I wasn't paying attention.

Interesting effects of Kundalini Yoga: waking up crying from a very emotional, nightmare-ish dream. Feeling so heavy, sluggish, overwhelmed, tired. It's not entirely positive but it's so interesting how much energy seems to be moved here?

An ex-student reaching out to me because she needed a letter of recommendation for an international college.

Walking through the forest with C., scouting a treasure hunt route. Keeping calm despite his weird mood. Staying present, observing.

A surprisingly calm museum visit with my class. And when we went to Pinakothek der Moderne I was happy how much fun some of them seemed to have experimenting, talking about art. I found some interesting works by Max Ernst and set the intention come back again soon, alone. Even just the large, empty building with the high ceilings has a soothing effect on me.

Biting into a slice of moist, warm black olive ciabatta.

Cooking actual food with vegetables I had at home and having fruit for dessert instead of getting trash food on the way home after coming home from work in a bad mood. So much more nourishing. I'm proud of myself for realising I have to be the person I want to become. Now.

Peeling off last post-it before the cool colour scheme finally started. Orange, yellow, purple.

Picking up C. from labour court. Meeting his friend Benni who discussed leftist concepts and utopian ideas with me over lunch. I felt really good when I realised that it was easy for me to follow his train of thought and that I'd missed intellectual conversation.

Connecting with C. Spending time together, walking through a furniture design store. Spicy time and a long afternoon nap. Talking about our triggers and therapy experience. I realised how much fear of failure (and success?) I have, how vulnerable my ego is when it comes to art and doing something new. Even just writing an application for a job I'm not officially qualified for scared the shit out of me. Impostor syndrom? C. still wants me to write a page from my imaginary novel for him and all I can think about is why I can't do it. And he suggested that I could study psychology. I'm intrigued and yet... Why is this so hard? What's holing me back?

Staying calm when I had to call roadside assistance twice in one afternoon. My car broke down in the middle of a busy street with three lanes. I simply accepted my fate and asked for help (and that might actually be the lesson I have to learn from all this).

Reaching out to Andrea. Finally meeting Kosta the cat.

A dream: Sarah as Ganesha with a giant elephant trunk. Facial tattoos: red, black and green symbols and ornaments. Massive, moving, heavy. I woke up from an imaginary alarm sound. Did I really dream up an alarm clock? Wow. And just in time for my appointment, too.

New Moon Aquarius promises a career breakthrough for Taureans. Let's hope for the best.

Something very banal: having kitchen roll at home for a change. I took one home when we had too many after a Slutering event and remembered that I could just... wipe something off without worrying about getting the rag dirty and having to wash it! Nice.

One of the best weeks of my life: a Hero's Journey seminar during the spring holidays. Going in with no expectations, receiving everything and more. I learned so much about myself. Activated my emotional side and practised feeling. I appreciate all those people who acted as my mirrors by sharing their vulnerability, being their authentic selves. We supported each other, learned from each other, celebrated each other. I'm thinking about becoming a Gestalt therapist now. It's such a great somatic method. And fun, too.

Cuddles. Conversations. Choking. And massages. / Seriously though, I asked Ralf to show me his Brazilian Jiu Jitsu choke hold and I travelled to another dimension for a few minutes. It got me GO high. On another note: I realised I want to channel my aggression and lust in a healthy way. Perhapy BJJ training is a good option. Let's fight!

My hero outfit. A golden robe. A glitter mask. Starburst earrings. Black wings. So me.

"Boundaries are not the same thing as walls." - such an important insight. I started journalling in German. Automatically. I'm taking off masks, tearing down walls. Perhaps I don't need the protection of a foreign language anymore. I can feel my own cringey words now. I allow myself to be seen without make-up. I try to show up as the person I really am. I won't hold back anymore.

An intuitive painting I made with buttery crayons on kraft paper. Swirly. Like a weird map of a cozy corner somewhere in the Universe.

Stickers from Franzi's friend: Sailor Moon characters fighting the patriarchy and nazis.

I feel so much love for the people in my group, especially Ralf and Teresa of course, but also Franzi, Frank and Feli. The F-gang. And for all the wonderful people in my life. I appreaciate Christian so much. The ideal balance between freedom and support. He expands my horizon in many ways and I love how he naturally includes me in his family life, his friend group. It feels so good to be a part of something. To be included. And at the same time, I'm free to do my own thing. Meet other people, follow my bliss. He actively encourages it.

I'm relaxed and happy. With this new mindset, even teaching feels easier. I'm more gentle with myself. I follow my impulses. I hope this state of being stays with me for a long time.

Ralf. I'm so grateful I met him. He helped me so much with his observation that I need someone to be gentle with me. His daddy energy. His wild playfulness. His Gemini communication mode. I loved that I was able to pay him back with some mum energy when I shipped his dirty laundry off to Jena. I included a heartfelt letter and the Exploding Kittens card game. I felt like a giddy teenager for a whole day when he implied that he's attracted to me too. I really hadn't noticed. We've been talking, flirting, messaging daily for a week now. So far none of us seems to be bored. I'm looking forward to our reunion!

Teresa. What a lovely human being. I connected with her right away. She's so intelligent, shares my passion for language. And she's so warm, empathic, benevolent, supportive. I ended up talking to her about my idea for a career coaching and she went all in right away. We even might work together. And maybe, just maybe, we're gonna record a podcast together. Even if just to amuse our Heroes messenger group.

I learned that I have a guest appearance in a fun song: Ich wollte doch nur knutschen auf der Party / Sie war gut gelaunt und ihr Name war Kathi / Das Netzwerk ging kaputt und ich musste das klären / Und Kathi hat geknutscht, aber leider mit Sören - Knutschen

More music: making a playlist for Teresa's ride home. And Ralf shared Wann strahlst du?. It's grown on me. The lyrics are everything. Highly relevant for my current state: Ich schulde dem Leben das Leuchten in meinen Augen

Acting in a much more loving way with old friends. Supporting them; touching, hugging, praising them.

Knowing the answers to two sports questions at the pub quiz.

Tuning in with my sonic toothbrush. I chanted and hummed, finally harmonized and changed my pitch. It sounded lovely and reminded my of our RAM chants during morning meditation.

Spending time in the "demon cave" with Lian. Playing airplane. Playing hard. We both loved to be wild - C. was not that amused because he wanted to concentrate on his chess app. But I also started being more gentle with the boy, cuddle him. I've got a feeling that he needs both modes.

"Freiheiten werden nicht geschenkt, man muss sie sich nehmen." - a random flyer on a lamppost, right when I walked past it, back to school, recording a voice message about... exactly that. The synchronicities are back! Life feels magical.

An insanely happy and productive day with the help of Yeli's Finest 50. I was so proud of myself because I even did things I'd been putting off for months. It finally felt right to contact Haus der Kunst and ZEIT Sprachen and ask them for an internship. Things are moving. It's happening. It's coming along. Doors are opening.

Meeting my new osteopath for the first time. I enjoyed his healing, intimate touch while we were talking about all my topics. And I love that we have so much in common. He used to be a civil servant to be able to afford his studies, is a voice actor now, has recently travelled to all my favourite places in Mexico. I'm looking forward to my next appointment.

I finally got a big box of passion fruit from the tree I adopted last year. What a fragrant delivery.

Meeting Becky, learning from each other. Enriching and entertaining as usual.

Finally getting my closet in order. Folding everything, donating a few items, clearing out another shelf to have more room for clothes. What took me so long? / Listening to WILLOW's music throughout the process. It's growing on me: I think I left my consciousness in the sixth dimension

Biting into a physalis thinking Life is delicious.

Saturday afternoon at Haus der Kunst with Sash. Walking through freaky environments, taking pictures of each other. Playing in a room full of feathers. Browsing the avantgarde bookstore. I got a postcard of a Hilma af Klint Altar piece.

Watching Lord of the Rings at C.'s place with his friend Jenny. Spicy morning routine, breakfast with his friends. A stopover at a LEGO church. Spending the whole afternoon soaking in warm water at Therme Bad Aibling. Eating the first ice-cream of the year in the sunshine. Cooking dinner together, talking in bed for a long time.

Ralf cancelled his weekend plans and invited me to Jena. We already have tickets for the planetarium. Really looking forward to seeing him! I've loved learning more and more about him in the past few days. We are so similar!

Something very simple but SO pleasurable: boiled potatoes with salt and butter.

Alex Ava taking two ballroom tickets off my hands when I had to change my plans.

[elprupneerg]

i wouldn't be so upset if i weren't seeing conflicting information between different parts of the amazon page on what the hell weight the yarn is or what the hell crochet hook they recommend using (a sloppy but workable way to tell roughly what size the yarn is) or whether or not it can be washed in a washing machine. some places say its a sport weight/fine weight yarn (so usa yarn weight #2, idk how other countries classify their yarns, maybe its the same, brain is too tired from the hamburger mines to research that right now sorry).

However. i've spent the last 8 months working on a project that uses sock weight/super fine weight yarn, which is yarn weight #1. yarn weights go up as the number goes up, so #1 is smaller than #2, which is smaller than #3, etc. so i'm now very very familiar with how sock weight yarn feels in the hand. i also took a little detour to try making a doily out of some crochet thread i wound up with at some point (probably another thrift store find). crochet thread is yarn weight #0, its very very small. you have to get special super teeny tiny crochet hooks to deal with it. i've still got mine out on my crafting table from the doily project cuz i forgot to put it away.

the yarn that my mom gave me that claims in several places to be a size #2 yarn is not only Way smaller than the #1 yarn i've been using for 8 fucking months. it also is the same size as the doily thread i've got left from the doily project. and it fits in the hook the same way. this is a fucking crochet thread, size #0.

nevermind whether or not i can wash it. what the fuck can i even do with it besides doilies?

the amazon listing for this yarn recommends all Sorts of projects for their possibly machine washable (maybe? depending if you look at the listing or the yarn label or the images on the listing) yarn. such as baby blankets and boots (which definitely won't get puked on/peed on/burped on/dropped in a mud puddle, requiring washing, which is annoying to do by hand when you have a fucking infant). how about some jackets for an adult? you know, with the tiny ass fucking thread? i've been making a cardigan out of size #1 yarn for the last 8 months with only brief distractions by a doily and a couple hats. it is still not done. and i'm not exactly a large person, so if something that would fit me is Still not fucking done after 8 months then how long do you think it will take to make an entire fucking cardigan out of size #0 thread????

my mom ordered some yarn off of amazon for a blanket she's making for my uncle and his wife (i've never met her so i feel weird calling her my aunt yet). but the listings on amazon were very poorly organized so she ended up buying too small of yarn. twice. and neither of them are machine washable/dryable despite her specifically only picking them cuz the listings Claimed they were.

so now i've got 6 skeins of yarn (3 of one kind, 3 of another) and i want to try and figure out what to use it for. but i'm looking up one of them and there's No Fucking Info. like, usually searching "ravelry [brand name of yarn] [sub branding of yarn]" brings up a page with rough production dates, material makeup, yarn gauge, washability, projects people have made with it, etc. and they have info on some pretty niche stuff! i picked up some yarn at a thrift store last year and was able to trace it to being from 1970s-80s west germany.

there is nothing for the kind my mom got. the website on the label is a half broken mess, ravelry has nothing, the amazon store page only has what products they sell and nothing else. i feel like i'm going crazy

[dick-the3rd]

"Limbs just popping up"

Jason: Isn't that your thing? Kyle: Only if you're good. Jason: Damn. So that's never gonna happen. Kyle: *Brushes his knuckles over Jason's cheek gently* You're better than you give yourself credit for. Jason: *BLUSHES and feels strange and uncomfortable and confused.* Jason, trying to sound cool but failing: or maybe you underestimates me. Kyle: oh no, Jason. I know you just right. *presses his lips on Jason's throat and feel him shiver* see, you're already being so good Jason: you wish Kyle: *Hums softly and shifts his lips to blade Jason's jaw.* Jason: *Inhales a deep centring breath trying to pretend that doesn't feel really nice, but ends up tipping his head back to expose his throat a little more.*

Kyle smiles, and Jason can feel the barely there scratch of teeth. Damn if that doesn't make his breath hitch. One of Kyle's hands settles on Jason's waist, fingers curling possessively. "Why don't you let me show you how good it can be?" Kyle suggests on his ear, between open mouthed kisses.

Jason first instinct is to deny it. Play it hard. Dwell a little bit more in denial, but maybe he's a bit tired of making things hard for himself, so, before he thinks too much, he picks up Kyle's hand and slowly deposit kisses each fingertip, before moving on to kiss Kyle's palm. Jason watches as Kyle's face shifts from surprise to hunger.

Jason smirks. "What are you waiting for?"

The grin that Kyle returns is both dazzling and intimidating. It holds promise, and Jason isn't quite sure he knows exactly what that promise is. Sure they'd messed around before. Fights always riled them up, and sometimes Rayner and him just ended up a little closer than expected.

But this is different. This is intentional. This isn't something to blame on adrenaline or emotional moments. This is soft touches and warm feelings that are hauntingly close to real.

Kyle for his part is ignoring his question, watching Jason move to nibble a little at the underside of his wrist. When Jason plants a soft kiss over his pulse, Kyle can't help but to reach up and thread his fingers into Jason's hair.

Kyle tugs just enough to draw Jason's head back. When Jason's Adam's apple bobs with the swallow that follows, and his lips part in a soft gasp, Kyle realizes that the other man is into the hair pull and grins.

Then tightens his fingers pulls tighter. Jason doesn't whimper, but his efforts to hold it back send a shiver down his spine. His eyes flutter closed, and for a brief moment, Kyle sees a side of Jason that's not only soft but trusting.

It's fucking beautiful, and Kyle wants to devour every part of it.

And when Jason opens his eyes, pupils wide and eyelids heavy with lust, Kyle gives in.

He kisses Jason. Soft and lingering, allowing himself to just feel this moment. Jason's hair is silky between his fingers, and Kyle grabs into it, just mindful enough to not pull too hard. Then Jason gasps and the kiss become demanding.

One of Jason's hands sets on Kyle's neck, hot against his damp skin, pulling them even closer together. All Kyle can see and feel and taste is Jason.

When they finally stop to catch their breaths, Jason is flushed, grin so honest and so completely Jason that Kyle can't help but take a peek. Then two. And then three because Jason isn't stopping him and Kyle is a weak man.

And when Jason shifts his legs, their bodies slip, fitting into each other, and it's Kyle's turn to gasp. He can feel Jason's muscles shivering under him, chest panting and heart beating fast.

Kyle isn't a religious man, but he really wants to go to his knees and worship Jason's body.

Jason starts to get a little flustered at the way Kyle keeps staring at him. He can feel his cheeks getting hotter. When he shifts and their bodies actually line up enough that he gets a bit of friction right where he wants it, he grunts and bites down on his kiss-swollen lower lip.

The little noise is all the encouragement that Kyle needs. He remembers his earlier promise of the extra hands and breathes softly, "You're being /so/ good…" It is all the 'warning' he gives before making good on his 'reward.'

The green disembodied hands that wrap around Jason's wrists look just a /little/ too large to be an ordinary human's. Jason gets a good view of them--they look just as strong and solid as the feeling around his wrists suggest--right before they jerk him up and back. His bare feet stumble on the floor before he's lifted just high enough that he can only brush the rug with his toes.

Kyle shifts to his knees and tips his head, watching Jason come to terms with his situation. "So good…" he reaffirms. Despite how into this Jason obviously is, Kyle's not sure if he'll be able to get closer without a kick to the face. The chains he constructs to hold Jason's ankles snugly in place with just enough of a gap between his legs are nothing more than prudent.

"Fuck, Rayner…" Jason can feel himself start tenting in his pants. If the situation weren't enough to get his attention, the gentle praise that Kyle keeps dropping so casually would have him a pliable mess all on their own. But the rest of this? It's fantastic.

More arms and hands begin to take shape seemingly from no where. None as large as the first pair, but a combination of smaller and bigger sizes make it feel like there's at least five people touching him. They begin to wander up under his shirt, teasing his nipples and dragging ghostly nails across his skin. They dip beneath the waistband of the jogging pants he'd slipped into when he went to answer the door, slide under his boxer briefs, and start to kneed at his ass cheeks. They touch him just the right way to get him excited but none of them touch him just the way he /wants/ to be touched.

No, Kyle's saving that honour all for himself.

Jason rocks under the searching hands, his hips starting to work a steady rhythm as he bucks softly against nothing more than the pressure of cotton against his skin. Kyle takes the opportunity to crawl closer. He takes a firm but not piercing bite of Jason's inner thigh just to make him squirm, then shifts his face so that he can brush his cheek against the bulge of his cock. The nuzzle is equal parts cherishing and encouraging, and even Kyle can't tell if he's being sweet or not. "You look so good like this. A work of art… I want to touch you and taste you and get to know you everywhere"

The hands start to work Jason's pants lower until they get hung up on his hard on and cause him to whimper a little. Kyle is delighted. "You gonna keep being so good for me? Hm?"

Jason doesn't trust his voice not to crack, so he just nods quickly at the question.

Kyle clicks his tongue as Jason is finally freed in front of him. He's beautiful even here. Hair trimmed back neatly making him seem larger. Kyle dips down and brushes his lips against the velvet smooth skin. "Use your words, beautiful…" He's going to worship this man. Ravish him until he screams his name. Swallow his cock down until it makes it hard to breathe, and then return the favour by… Well, he hasn't worked things out that far yet. First things first: he wants confirmation. He wants to hear what Jason has to say.

'Tell me you're mine,' he wants to scream it at the younger man, but instead all he does is place his hands back to gripping possessively at Jason's hips, digging his thumbs in (maybe a little harder than necessary), and staring up at the frankly stunning look on his face.

When Kyle doesn't move again, Jason looks down, and it's a good thing there's still hands holding him up, because his knees buckle. 

Kyle's face is flushed, lips parted so close to his dick that Jason can feel each breath, but those eyes… They're staring right at Jason, burning and demanding, like Jason is the most important thing in the universe. 

It's ironic that this is what makes him feel naked and vulnerable. 

Jason wants to squirm, but Kyle's fingers dig hard on his skin, making it impossible for him to move. The construct hands keep pinching and rubbing and holding Jason in every possible way. 

Kyle keeps staring and Jason just wants Kyle to do something. 

"Please." He begs, "Anything. Everything. I'll be good for you."

Kyle kisses the area around his dick, open mouthed and slightly sucking. Jason moans this time, hips bucking and Kyle's fingers just press tighter. It will be a miracle if Jason doesn't end up bruising. 

"Anything you want, I'll do. God, please, Kyle. I'm-"

Jason sobs when Kyle finally takes him on his mouth. Tongue slowly pressing his entire length as he takes Jason's dick. 

"Just take me, please."

And when Kyle /finally/ starts moving, all Jason can do is moan and cry promises. 

[heyitsduff]

it's been a week, now, and i think i've probably got my thoughts together well enough to make this post.

i didn't start watching techno or any dsmp member until around early 2021, when the first episode of the great potato war popped up in my recommended box. i watched it. and then i watched the next 2 parts. and soon enough i was neck deep in skywars commentaries and watching a man beat minecraft with a steering wheel.

needless to say i was completely hooked, and i continued watching techno's videos frequently throughout the year. c!techno was my favorite character on the dsmp by far, his was the only pov i even watched most of the time. something about him and his content was just so captivating, it could make something as fickle as my horrible adhd brain settle down and focus for a while, just to watch his vods.

when he told us he had cancer, i was worried, but i convinced myself everything would be fine. after all, he didn't seem too concerned about it, so i shouldn't be either, right?

and that feeling was only strengthened by the next update. they got the tumor out, and he got to keep his arm! of course it'll take a while to recover, but he's in the clear now, right?

i was in the shower when that last video dropped. i went in feeling good, i'd had a pretty nice day and was getting ready to relax and veg out in front of my computer until i decided to go to bed.

instead i, a whole 17 year old male (almost a grown ass man, as my dentist would say) spent the next two hours hunched over sobbing in the bathroom over a minecraft youtuber.

now, i've been lucky enough to not have experienced a death in the family, at least not someone i actually knew, since my great grandmother died when i was in first grade. but that also meant that i hadn't really experienced grief like this before, and i didn't know what to do with myself.

i ended up texting my mom. she was just downstairs, but i don't really like being seen when i'm vulnerable, and i was honestly afraid she'd judge me for getting this emotional over someone i didn't know personally.

but she didn't, thankfully. she said i might not have known him personally, but i knew part of him, and that part was important to me, and its okay to grieve for that. which is the way i've tried to think about this whole thing from then on.

after i was sure i was done crying, i went back to my room and didn't talk to anyone in person for the rest of the night. i needed the time to process, now that the shock was over and i'd gotten the immediate feelings out.

i ended up having a short text conversation on discord with a friend of mine who was also a fan of techno. he said he'd managed to avoid crying, but only because he knew if he started, he wouldn't be able to stop. i think that's the most genuine emotion i've ever seen from him. that's how much our minecraft pig man affected people.

i delivered the news myself to my other friend. that was rough.

i think i've let a few more tears flow, a sniffle here and there, since then, but i've been able to return to functioning like normal.

i'm gonna really miss techno. he was someone i looked up to, who i could always count on to cheer me up when i was having a rough day. but i know he wouldn't want me to just sit here in a puddle of my own tears, no matter how much i want to sometimes. hell, he'd probably call me a nerd for getting all choked up again writing this post.

good game, pig man.

gg.

[dabideserveslove]

😭6?

y'all just really wanna hurt don't you???

Let's see... the saddest/angstiest moment of the ShigaDabi starving artists AU.

Ok so in this one it's actually (trans) Tomura that's pregnant - I know, big shock since usually it's Dabi - and he ends up going into labor early and I think that would have to be the angstiest moment. I've got a decent chunk of that scene written already and I was only going to share a small bit but then I couldn't decide which small part to share so you get all of it I guess lmao.

Enjoy?

Also I'm still doing these so please, if you're interested, send me asks about my AUs!

“Touya…”

The name was breathed out all soft and shaky, barely audible yet it instantly grabbed Dabi’s attention. Tomura never used his real name. Not unless he was angry or if something was wrong and well… he didn’t sound angry.

Which meant something was wrong.

Really wrong.

Last time Dabi heard Tomura saying his name like that - all terrified and breathy - it was after he was shot. Considering Dabi hadn’t heard any gunshots go off, it probably wasn’t that but that didn’t make Dabi feel any better in the slightest.

Tomura was pregnant, after all, and Dabi’s read the books. He knows how many things can go wrong during a pregnancy. The thought that something might be wrong with the baby wasn’t something Dabi even wanted to think about yet those were the very thoughts and worries that flooded his mind.

The pregnancy may have been a complete accident and there may have been some contemplation about whether or not to see it through when they first found out and maybe Dabi had been secretly hoping that Tomura wouldn’t keep it at the time but…

Now?

Fuck, Dabi would rather die than let something happen to that baby.

“What’s wrong?”‌ Dabi asked as soon as he remembered how to breathe again, looking up from his phone to stare over at Tomura.

At first glance, Dabi couldn’t see anything wrong. Tomura was just leaning against the doorway separating the kitchen from the living room, all pale and wide-eyed. He had one hand settled on top of his swollen stomach, making the oversized sweater he wore almost accentuate the baby bump.

With a soft sigh, Dabi pushed himself up from the couch and started to walk towards Tomura when he didn’t get an answer. “Babe, c’mon. You can’t just say my name like that and then not -”

Dabi stopped mid-step, mouth frozen partially open, when his eyes focused on the liquid dripping down Tomura’s thighs and collecting into a puddle on the floor between his feet.

“My water broke,” Tomura muttered finally; essentially confirming all of Dabi’s worst fears.

That wasn’t supposed to happen yet. Not for another two months.

“Oh,”‌ Dabi breathed, still numbly just watching the puddle on the floor slowly grow as his brain tried to fully comprehend what was happening. “Uh,”‌ he let out a slow, shaking breath, “And you’re uh… You’re sure it’s not…”

“I didn’t fucking piss myself,”‌ Tomura growled, voice still trembling but somehow that just added to the amount of raw anger and murderous intent that had seeped into his tone.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. That’s not good. Fuck.”

“If you say fuck one more time instead of doing something useful, I will murder you.”

Dabi did not doubt Tomura at all in that respect but his mind was still reeling and he had no idea what to do. So, instead, he took in a shaky breath and said,

“Shit.”

“Touya.”

That time it was definitely anger causing the usage of his real name, but that wasn’t what snapped Dabi out of his shock. No, what jogged his brain enough for it to start working again was the pained noise Tomura let out as he leaned harder against the doorway. 

They had to get to the hospital. Right? Yeah. All the books said water breaking = hospital time. 

A shaky moan from Tomura brought Dabi’s attention back to his boyfriend, though, and -

Fuck, Tomura needed pants. 

Speaking of, Dabi realized he might want to put some fresh clothes on, too. Who knows how long they’ll be at the hospital and - hold on,

They haven’t packed a hospital bag yet.

What even goes into a hospital bag? Dabi had no idea. Wait, did they even need one? 

At least an outfit for the kid, right? Or, well, she probably won’t be coming home with them for a while, will she? 

Honestly, Dabi didn’t have a clue. 

Nothing was ready yet, though, so he really hoped she could wait a few days at least. Anyway, they didn’t even have a crib yet and only had a handful of clothes and shit, Dabi still hasn’t figured out how to install the carseat so -

“Todoroki! What the fuck are you even doing?!” 

Well, that got Dabi’s attention, considering he’s never heard Tomura call him by his family name. 

Ever.

“Uh,” Dabi struggled to come up with something, mind still going about a hundred miles an hour which proved to be even less helpful than when it was blank. 

“Oh my God, you’re fucking useless. Can you just get me a towel and some pants?!” Tomura yelled, frustration and panic and stress all spilling over in the way his voice shook and cracked and… were those tears on his face?

Fuck. Okay. 

Dabi had to get it together. Now. And that might have just been the punch to the gut he needed to do it because damn did it hurt realizing that Tomura was crying because of him - because Dabi wasn’t able to do what Tomura needed him to in the moment.

“Okay - Okay, doing it,” Dabi stammered.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Persephone's Symphony | Day One | Persephone

Hey lovelies— so as per my usual shenanigans I've decided this will have no schedule and that I will play god to my own creation because what is life without some chaos? The pros are you might not have to wait a week between updates, the cons are you might have to wait a week between updates. In all seriousness, please enjoy my lovelies!

Synopsis: In which he is the bad one— the dangerous one, the clunky one, the one who only knows how to break things— and she is the good one— the fragile one, the soft one, the one who knows how to put things back together— and he has to keep her alive long enough for anyone else— anyone who can do more than kill— to save her like she deserves to be saved— to save her from him. There are no pomegranates, no three headed dogs, and no requirement to stay— that is, if they don’t count an assassin on the loose out for her neck. In that case, three days in a safe house doesn’t feel like a long time— just long enough for Persephone and Hades to remember why opposites attract.

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Female!Reader (third person)

Warnings: Mentions of death, at times semi-graphic, eventual smut

Word count: 3.1k

Previous | Next

Master List

She can’t hear what the man in the truck says to him— the walls of this house are surprisingly thick. She supposes that’s a good thing. It means she will be able to go about her days normally while cooped up here. Well, as normal as possible. She doubts she’ll be able to get away with her three am rom-com marathons and ice-cream binges. She doubts she’ll get away with screaming in her sleep— and in the shower and at the breakfast table and when doing any, little thing that makes her remember that her life is one, constant nightmare.

It’s only three days— all she has to do is stay awake for three days.

While his head— her body guard’s head— is turned she leans against the kitchen sink, inching back the white lace curtain for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s like a little game at this point. She peeks at him, his eyes snap to hers, and she squeals and drops the curtain. Thank god the walls are thick. It’s almost unnerving how tuned he is to every little movement— not almost, it is unnerving but she supposes that is what makes him a good fit for this job. A good fit for keeping her alive. Like she has been doing for months now, she ignores the way her chest squeezes painfully.

Through the little strip of window that she allows for herself, she traces over his features one last time. Cropped black hair, a square jaw, at least two days worth of stubble. He looks like a bodyguard— rough, dangerous, manly— and that’s before taking into account the sheer size of the man. She is on her tiptoes, one hand pushing against the stainless steel below her for dear life, and she still has to crane her neck to properly see his face. She refuses to let her eyes wander any further than that— she had already glimpsed at the rest of him when he had made the short walk from the truck to the house. She already knows he’s massive.

His eyebrow twitches and she drops the curtain— she may not be as fast as he is but she’s a quick learner. Had she held the curtain open longer she is sure his eyes would have flicked to hers again. Those are the rules of the game, after all. She hears a muted thumping and the door handle jiggle from across the room, spinning towards the faded farmhouse door. She watches as the door handle turns, her throat tight, wondering where all the air in the room went— it was there a second ago.

The door pushes open and she jumps away from the sink, only just realizing what it’ll look like if he comes inside to her still hunched over the window. Of course, he’s already seen her but that’s beside the point. Part of the game is not talking about the game. A boot comes into view— the black, military grade kind— and it hits her like a punch to the gut that this is real— there really is someone out there trying to kill her. Now she really can’t breath. She can only force her lungs to expand to draw in some oxygen before her bodyguard finds her sprawled in an unconscious heap on the ground.

The boot is quickly followed by a leg, which is then, by default, followed by a torso and a head. A head that turns and watches her freeze, red handed like a bandit, in the middle of the kitchen. Gods, she should have just kept leaning against the sink— this is worse! Her hands are up and everything, shot out in front of her like she’s about to jump him or something. Yes, her— the girl currently in a hoodie that pools around her legs, displaying her knobby knees and bad posture— about to jump him— the man who had to practically duck to get through the doorway. She could laugh. In fact, she almost wishes he would laugh at her. She wishes he would do anything but look at her with that blank expression and those ice blue eyes.

“Uhm—” she blinks, trying to think of something to say other than holy shit you’re a giant— which, for the record, is what she wants to say— “hi?”

Are you serious, y/n?

He tilts his head at her and she almost cries. Not the same fear ridden, heartbroken, panicky cries of late. More so the awkward, why the fuck would you say that to the man charged with keeping you alive brand of cries. The normal kind. She drops her hands to her sides, slipping them into the pouch of her hoodie and tangling her fingers together. She can only allow herself to display one embarrassing thing at a time.

The man stays silent for a moment, each second of which makes her cheeks flame hotter and hotter, before finally opening his mouth. “Hi.”

Her chest deflates— some of the heat subsiding. He copied her. Whether purposefully or mockingly it alleviates some of the stupidity she’s feeling. She takes a few steps backwards, her bare feet pittering rather loudly over the worn hardwood. Well, that didn’t last long— there’s that embarrassment again.

“I’m y/n,” she squeaks out— gods, is Mickey Mouse in the building? “I guess you already know that though, huh?”

It was a stroke of genius putting her hands in her pocket— at least now he can’t see the way they shake furiously. She has to resist smashing her head against the sink. Nothing about this situation is optimal, to say the very least. Here she is making small talk with a man who could tear her in half. Her eyes drift to where his red henley pulls taut around his biceps— are they bigger than her head?

“James—” her eyes flick back up, face hotter than the sun, both from her blatant staring and the deep gravel of his voice— “but most people call me Bucky.”

Her eyes widen. She doesn’t know why, probably because she’s an idiot or because she isn’t expecting him to say more than three words. He seems like the strong, silent type. Maybe that is just the rom-coms though. Maybe her brain is just mush now.

“Okay,” she all but whispers, backing further into the sink. His piercing eyes have yet to leave her— something which makes her knees knock together and fingers clench. “Which should I call you?”

He tenses, his dark eyebrows pulling together, and she has to swallow the bile that rises in her throat. It’s day one and she’s already offending him. She pulls her lip between her teeth, biting down until the tangy, metallic taste that she has grown too familiar with these past months floods her mouth. She tells herself that she does it to keep from cursing. Lying to herself is another game she likes to play.

The longer he remains quiet, the more she regrets asking the question. His blue eyes are still latched on her, drifting over the space between her eyes and her busted lip, but somehow they also seem miles away. She can’t tell if he’s looking at her— seeing her— or if he’s seeing something else entirely. It isn’t until she pushes off the counter, taking a hesitant step forward, her foot slapping against the wood like it’s trying to embarrass her again, that he blinks. She pulls one of her hands from the puddle that is her hoodie, sliding it over her hair. Can he see the way it shakes?

Probably.

“Nevermind, forget I asked. It was a dumb ques—”

“Bucky,” the word is rushed out, falling over her own stuttered babbling. He slows after that, his face remaining stoic but his cheeks dusting with the slightest hint of pink. “Call me Bucky.”

She doesn’t point it out— she doesn’t have a death wish. Her being here right now, standing across from a literal giant, barefoot and shaking, is proof enough of that. Instead she nods gently, lowering her hand slowly. He’s not going to attack her— he isn’t a wolf— but still she takes the precaution. Better safe than sorry.

“Bucky it is then.”

He nods stiffly and she pretends like it doesn’t make her hands shake harder. She waits for him to speak, eyes drifting over the blue cupboards and the breakfast nook, taking in the applications of the home and trying not to scream. She feels so out of place, not used to the warmth in the room— the lingering smell of yeast and the flowers in the vase on the table. She used to bake all the time. Now she can barely bring herself to microwave frozen dinners. The sun that filters through the crack in the curtains and lands against her cheek feels like pure fire. She spends her days in the dark— she wouldn’t be surprised if she was allergic to the sun itself now. Allergic to all the things she used to enjoy.

The silence is too much— she has to speak to keep her throat from closing. If she doesn’t then it may not open again.

“So—” she draws the word out, her eyes flopping to the floor where her toe scuffs against a particularly worn board— “we just kinda follow each other around then?”

His face doesn’t change, his lips remaining in the same, expressionless line— a master of one trade. “Pretty much. I follow you.”

“And make sure I don’t die.” She fills the rest in— there’s no point not to. He’s definitely seen the pictures.

Finally his expression shifts, his lips pressing together tersely. It’s an answer in it’s own right— he pities her. He shifts his weight between his feet, the floorboards creaking below him. It could just be her but the sound slices through the room— loud and unforgiving— and she can’t stop the way she flinches. He freezes, obviously noticing her reaction. She almost slaps herself. Leave it to her to make an already tense situation worse. Is it going to be this awkward the entire time?

“You’re not going to die.” His voice is softer than his boots, barely reaching her ears as it cuts through the rigid atmosphere.

She doesn’t know what to say— how do she tell her bodyguard that she doesn’t believe him? He’s supposed to be the one saving her life. It feels risky to suggest that he wouldn’t be able to do that. Like telling the universe that she wants to die. She doesn’t want to die. It’s just hard not to think about death when it follows her everywhere she goes. For twenty-four years she was just y/n. Now look at her.

The queen of death.

She doesn’t know what to say so instead she changes the subject.

“Are you hungry?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

She makes grilled cheese for lunch. It is nothing special but the smell of the butter alone makes the energy she has to scrape together to make them worth it. She can’t remember the last time she cooked like this— the last time she tasted anything but freezer burnt macaroni and lumpy gravy. A couple times she almost drops the spatula, her fingers not used to having to be so coordinated, but the promise of melted cheddar has her fighting through the tremors. That and the audience of one, standing next to her with his arms crossed like he’s judging her culinary skills rather than looking for snipers.

It’s all in her head. That’s what she tells herself at least.

“You want extra cheese?”

She can feel Bucky’s eyes on the side of her face— is there something on her cheek? “Sure.”

It’s all in her head.

She flips the sandwiches, watching as the fluffy white bread is replaced with a perfect, golden brown toast. Her stomach growls, the sound somehow louder than the sizzling pan in her hand. The scream bubbles in her throat again— fuck. Why must everything she does be so humiliating? Why can’t she just keep it together for three days!

“Bacon?” Cue the voice crack.

“Bacon?” He repeats the word back like he hasn’t the faintest clue what a pig is— like somehow he’s a giant of a man but has never touched a piece of meat in his entire life.

Like it’s the dumbest question he has ever been asked. She swallows— hard— her cheeks pooling with heat again. She’s starting to wonder if it ever even left. If he asks she’ll blame it on the steam rising off the pan or her hoodie or both. But he won’t ask— he won’t speak until he has to. It did not take her long to gather that fact.

“You’ve never had bacon on grilled cheese?” It feels like he’s glaring at her.

It’s all in her damn head.

The floorboards groan underneath Bucky again and instead of flinching this time she tries to imagine what they might be saying. Save me, he’s crushing me! She flicks her eyes down, glancing at those military grade boots and then at her own toes, tiny and feeble compared to the size of his gear. One wrong step and her foot would likely be broken. She isn’t too worried about that though— he seems careful. His movements thus far have been slow and calculated, skirting around her and leaving at least a few feet between them at all times. Maybe that isn’t to keep from stepping on her though— maybe he just doesn’t like her. She wouldn’t blame him.

“You say it like that’s unheard of.” He doesn’t say it angrily but there’s no exuberance in his voice either— just the monotone she’s come to expect. It’s been one hour and she can already see how the next seventy-one are going to play out.

“Where I’m from it is.”

There’s a pause— the sound of butter crackling against the pan and of the steady picking up of rain against the kitchen window as it eats away at the sunshine— and she’s expecting the conversation to drop there. He isn’t there to entertain her, after all. That’s what the TV is for— what Leonardo DiCaprio is for.

But then there’s an answer. “Where are you from?”

The corner of her mouth lifts— an action so foreign she can practically see the dust shedding from her rusty smile— and she turns from the frypan long enough to meet his icy eyes and to throw out an arm, putting the front of her hoodie on display for the stoic man.

“SoCal.”

Her mouth lifts higher when Bucky raises an eyebrow, nodding slowly. He could be mocking her but she chooses to believe he’s interested. She chooses to believe that they are making progress and that she won’t have to spend three days talking to the walls. She turns back to the sandwiches, flipping them for the last time before laying down a few strips of bacon next to them.

She isn’t expecting him to keep going but she also isn’t complaining when his voice tickles her ears again. “Caltech, huh? S’that Pasadena?”

She tries to keep her smile from morphing into a full blown grin— she isn’t sure if her poor lips would be able to handle it. It’s been too long since she last used her mouth this much; both for smiling and talking. “Yes sir— born and raised.”

He hums and she watches from the corner of her eye as he leans to the window, peering out of it for a moment. There’s no one out there— at least she strongly doubts there is. This place is in the middle of nowhere. She hasn’t even heard a car since the truck that dropped Bucky off drove away. It’s supposed to be peaceful. She doesn’t see it. All she sees is the dreadful but necessary silence— at least hopefully that way they’ll hear someone coming.

“How about you? Where are you from—” she flips the bacon, pushing it around the pan, her mouth watering at the thought of the greasy, gooey goodness she’s about to consume— “You mind finding some plates?”

She hears him rummage through the cupboard above his head— well, above her head, in front of his— before two mismatched pieces of dishware appear before her nose. Grabbing them, she lets the corners of her lips tick up just the tiniest bit further.

“Indiana— but spent most of my time in Brooklyn.”

“It shows.” She muses, not turning to see whether or not he appreciates the comment.

It’s true regardless— she can hear some of the mannerisms of New York in his voice. Not many. He hasn’t said enough for her to truly gauge just how strong his accent is. Still it’s there, in the gruffness of his tone, just like she’s sure the SoCal shines through in her. At least it normally does— lately she hasn’t exactly been the picture of sunshine.

She removes the sandwiches from the pan, layering them carefully onto the plates. After staring at them for a moment she settles on the one that she wants, handing Bucky the bigger of the two. It’s only fair— he could probably eat at least four. She watches as the giant gives it a glance, rolling her eyes when he hesitantly lifts it to his lips, taking the smallest of bites. Is he afraid of a sandwich?

“I promise I’m not trying to poison you— I need you to stay alive, remember?”

He only grunts.

She has to turn away when he takes a bigger bite, her eyes refusing to detach themselves from his lips. Unprofessional and inappropriate. The orphan and the bodyguard. She takes a bite of her own sandwich, shoving the thought to the back of her mind and replacing it with the heavenly taste of gooey cheese, melted butter, and greasy bacon. She doesn’t have to dissect the thoughts of her delicious food like she would have to the other ones. Cheese doesn’t require a checklist about whether or not her grief quota is up to code. Clearly it’s not— clearly she’s just sick in the head. She takes another bite.

The two eat in silence for a couple minutes, the tension in the room melting for the first time since she introduced herself. Thank gods for cheese.

After a few more moments Bucky sets his plate down, turning back to the window. At first she thinks she is hearing things— like her mind is now also playing tricks on her as well as making her feel like a terrible person— but then it registers and she has to fight back another inappropriate smile.

“You were right about the bacon.”

Maybe three days won’t be so bad.

____________

Tag List: @xhollycowx @remembered-license​

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

A bit of angsty fluff here so what if the night before the battle to take back wall Maria levi and his wife (maybe a civilian) are taking a bath together and having soft emotional sex like for the potential last time and in the middle his wife stops and say "promise me you'll comeback" and levi is a realist so he says "you know I cant promise that" and his wife starts to cry a little and just says "even if it's a lie I need to hear you say it"--- just want to say this isn't necessarily a request but its something that I've been thinking about for a minute I needed to get it off my chest if you want to write it be my guest😘😘

Ha, haha, so... Here I am. I know it took forever but I tried my best to make this a pleasant read. I always think my nsfw writting is cringeworthy, but since I've grown as a writer I decided to write this, to test the waters a little

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Warnings: Nsfw below the cut you guys, proceed at your own risk

Every Me And Every You

Watered down, salty droplets of sweat sneaked into the corners of your open mouth as you fought to catch your breath. Levi's lips rested inches below yours, slightly parted, waiting painfully to launch onto any place of your skin again. It was the build up that was killing him; your nose pointed at his cheek, your forehead pressed to his, your small huffs of air as you exhaled, both of your breaths mingling in the air.

He hadn't had a chance to notice if the water had run cold. The splashes on his thighs felt feverous, hot and stinging to the touch. They were conflicting to the smoothness of your wet skin and your feathery soft touches, so much that his mind couldn't focus away.

Apart from the silent whimpers and moans, the eventual splashes the room was quiet. A few candles flickered at the very far corner, illuminating the room just enough for him to be able to witness the expression of pleasure on your face.

Had it not been such an emotionally heavied night he would have thought you were way too soft, way too slow, way too affectionate to your love making. But tonight, nontheless, it was achingly perfect. Your hips bobbed lovingly on his, bum softly gracing the top of his thighs, water dripping down from your wet hair with each slow movement as your hand rested on the back of his nape.

The soft scratches on his undercut elicited deep moans out of his throat. He knew he couldn't control himself from squirming under your mellow touch, had it not been for his longing to get the most of you he would have already been an executed mess.

With his head thrown back, his hands tightly embracing your form to bring you as close to him as it was possible, your dripping chests collided in passion and need, forcing more lewd sounds to escape the both of you as bathwater constantly lapped its way up to his face and neck. Your soft lips pressed chaste kisses everywhere they could launch onto; his cheeks, his eyes, the slight curved bump on his forehead that rested in place above his eyebrows.

Your own heart ached everytime you eardrums vibrated from the sound of his voice. There was this reoccurring thought digging around the insides of your stomach; this could be the very last time you'd get to feel eachother, not merely in this way, but in any way at all. You couldn't quite come at peace with it. Any other given time you'd be fine with dedicating your heart to the cause, but now, now that you finally had a chance to annihilate the enemy, now that you had a chance to live in peace supposing you retook wall Maria, you didn't really want to part ways with him.

You'd be damned if he couldn't stay by your side.

"Please promise me you'll come back." You spoke ever so slightly, stopping only to momentarily pull back to look into his eyes as your palms came to firmly grip onto the sides of his face. When his hazed eyes managed to focuse on yours, loathing the way your movements ceased, cutting him off absurdly.

"You know I cant- ah- do that." He grunted between short hitched breaths. "But I'd be damned if this is the last time."

Nontheless, after such statements, looking directly in his eyes wasn't doing you -or him- any good either; the more you traveled down the spiraling storm of their steel gaze, the less you wanted to accept that tomorrow was a day one of you would have to accept eachother's death. Your fingers burned the skin of his face as you touched him, despairate to elicit a different answer from him.

The dull ache in your lungs, caused by your throbbing heart only severed by each second as you stared down at him with parted lips. Everything around you was spinning, wrapping you in a hot spiraling vertigo, preventing you from realising the salty puddles that were forming inside your eyelids. Your nose automatically snickered, sucking back the unshed tears that had found their way inside your numb nostrils.

"Even if it's a lie," you spoke as your heart sped, beating so loud that your pulse was all you could hear "I need to hear you say it."

Your only answer was a tender, feathery soft kiss.

Your eyes looked deeper into his as you engulfed his mouth in a bruising kiss, bringing your bodies impossibly closer. There was no denying in it, your movements became almost violent, hips bobbing painfully fast at fear of not being able to indulge like this again.

Levi's lips moved on their own accord, sucking skillfully as his teeth nibbled at the crook of your neck, his tongue pushing the section of skin in his mouth right onto his pallete. His skin felt hotter than ever before; as his own heart throbbed in anxiety and greed, his hands clutched onto your pelvis, his fingers delving despairately hard at every point they touched.

"D-don't stop." He popped.

His lower stomach lowered and sank at the need to contain himself. Despite reaching the much wanted high of intercourse what his mind and body ached for wasn't a blunt release. He needed to feel you close, closer than ever, to feel you on his pained body. The way that your body rubbed with his numb torso left him light headed and dizzy. He couldn't move much; just wrapping his arms around you, pressing you absurdly into his embrace was just about enough.

Enough for the furious grind of your hips to finally creep it's lewd way inside his brain, enough to send pleasure through him in agonising waves. He was practically coming undone under your mellow, never ending movements; he felt so powerless in the moment, he was only able to focus on the much needed friction that would bring him over the edge in a way that his silent cries of pleasure fell deaf on his own ears.

You instantly regretted gripping on the sides of the tub behind him, but the need for stability wouldn't allow you to bring both hands on him again. It was in a singular unanticipated moment that your releases came, accompanied with shagged hitched breaths and pants, bodies completely unravelling and collapsing in the touch of each other. Yet, you didn't know for how long you rocked your bodies back and forth in the edge of the bathtub after you lingered in each other's embrace; it seemed like an eternity and yet not enough at the same time.

As you fought to catch your breaths, rapidly kissing eachother as if to prevent your needs, you wished the world had stopped right then and there.

[wreckofawriter]

Focus

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Ravenclaw!reader

Warnings: Slight swearing, bullying

Word count: 4,728 (this is the longest one I've ever written)

Request: Hey do you think you could do a Draco imagine? I was thinking with a ravenclaw reader who’s actually shy and clumsy.

A/n: Sorry this came out later than I anticipated, its regents week for me and I was crushed by exams. I hope to have part one of my Draco series out over the weekend. Hope you guys like this ridiculously long one!

“Ms. y/l/n” You heard an all too familiar voice say.

“Yes Professor?” You asked turning around swiftly to face the raven haired teacher.

“What happened with your potion, it was a complete disaster?” The teacher asked.

You flushed, it was no secret you weren't exactly great at positions, you were too clumsy to measure anything out, you managed to cut your finger and you always messes up the order of ingredients.

“I'm so sorry professor i'm just not very good at positions. I have been studying I swear, it just..” Your voice trailed off. “I'm sorry professor.” You mumbled looking down.

“I want you prepared for the test next Wednesday, you should be able to manage that?” He asked eyebrows raised.

“Of course professor.” You mumbled still quite flush from the whole conversation. You turned to leave walking back towards your common room. About thirty seconds later you saw the last person you wanted to. Mckenzie Clarkson. She was a fellow housemate who unfortunately was extremely popular, pretty, nimble footed and of course, smart. She was basically everything you weren't, in your mind.

“God your pathetic.” The brunett girl laughed, her stunning green eyes narrowing. “You have lost, what was it? 30 points for us today.” The girls behind her giggled whispering things to each other. “You shouldnt even be in Ravenclaw. Your far to stupid. You cant even get into the common room without help, you trip over your own feet and you are practically failing all your classes.” She smirked clearly feeling very good about herself, as you willed yourself not to cry. You hated crying, so you just glared up at her anger rushing through you like a wave, but you kept it down, what could you possibly say to her?

“Can you just let me go?” You asked voice weak.

“I don't know can we?” The hallway erupted in laughter.

“Just let me leave.” You said voice a bit stronger now as your anger grew.

“Fine.” She smirked as she moved out of the way. You quickly began to walk through the group of girls, the embarrassment was suffocating.

Just as you were about to break free of the group, a girl stuck he leg out sending you sprawling to the ground. Your hands, full of books that scattered as you attempted to get your arms in front of you, it was a failure and you landed on your elbow directly followed by you face. You groaned in pain as you felt blood begin to seep from your nose.

“Oops.” The girl giggled before they all turned to leave laughing and joking.

You lay there for a few seconds squeezing your eyes shut, begging the tears to retreat. You eventually pushed yourself up so you were sitting. You were surrounded by books and papers, you had blood rushing down your face dripping onto you shirt and you had had enough. You simply pulled yourself to the side of the hallway drawing your knees to you cest and began to cry. You knew this wouldn't stop. You were far too shy to say anything and even if you weren't the girls were right anyway. Why were you in Ravenclaw when it took you a good twenty minutes just to figure out the password to your own common room?

Just then your heard voices. You quickly moved grabbing your books and sprinting out of the hallway before anyone could see you. You sprinted the whole way back to the tower. You were greeted by the raven statue you had grown to hate. You groaned loudly.

The statue spoke, “How is it possible for you to stand behind your father while he is standing behind you?” it asked, making you groan again.

“Can you please just let me in, im covered in blood.” You grumbled knowing that it wouldn’t answer. You tried to think. How can I stand behind something that is behind me? You racked your brain for an awnser but it seemed impossible. You couldnt help it you began to cry again. Frustration, embarrassment and sadness filled you as tears streaked you cheek. Why were you put in Ravenclaw? What could that stupid, good for nothing, hat possibly seen in you that made him shout “Ravenclaw” like a farmer yelling for his next sheep to slaughter.

You then heard footsteps beside you. You turned to see Cho Chang. She was in the year above you and was everything a Ravenclaw should have been, pretty, athletic, and of course wicked smart. You wanted to hate her for being so perfect but you couldn't.

“Hey,” She said softly, “I heard what Mckenzie did. That's messed up.” She attempted to sooth you.

“It doesn't matter.” You attempted to smile but it was more of a tight lipped grimace.

“She’s wrong you know.” Cho smiled.

You gave a half hearted laugh, “What could possibly make me a Ravenclaw?”

“So much y/n,” she said, “You are crazy good at Wizards Chess for one.”

“That’s just a stupid game.” You grumbled.

“No, it takes strategy and I've never seen a single person beat you.” She pointed out.

You blushed not used to getting praised.

“Also i've seen your artwork, its beautiful, absolutely stunning.” She smiled making you blush more.

“Thanks.” you mumbled.

“Look don't let one girl get you down.” She advised before asking the statute for the riddle. It answered and she stood there thinking for a second.

    “Oh!” she exclaimed, “Your standing back to back.”

    The statue spun open as you hit your forehead onto you stack of books making you stumble, barley catching yourself before you fell. You cursed yourself before ascending the stairs to your room. You had had enough humiliation for today.

    Draco rolled his eyes as Zambini told another terrible joke beside him, “What do you call a red head with no brains?’

    “I don't know, you with red hair?” Draco mocked.

    “Close but no.” the other boy snickered, “A weasley!” He erupted into laughter as they rounded the corner, heading to the common room.

    As they continued talking Draco felt something thump against his foot. He looked down to see a leather bound book which he had kicked a few feet in front of him. The platinum blonde raised his eyebrows before bending down to pick it up.

    “What the..” Balises voice trailed off.

    Draco looked up to see a small puddle of blood at the end of the quoridor.

    “Some idiot probably got hurt in potions or something.” Draco scoffed, though he was a bit confused. They continued walking being careful to avoid the blood. Draco's mind was quickly brought back to the book and he opened it to see what it was. What he saw stunned him.

    They were sketches. Not crappy sketches that was done by some kid, but damn good sketches. Most of them looked like they were for herbology. There were various plants with notes about them scribbled in messy handwriting in the margins, but every few pages there was something different. On the fifth page there was a drawing of a creature he didn't recognize. It was a black horse-like creature with big leathery looking wings. He wondered what it was. They had now arrived at the common room and Draco went directly to a couch sitting down on the black leather, continuing through the book. On the eleventh page there was a drawing of a broom stick. It was read Nimbus 2000 at the handel. There were various other sketches of random objects littered throughout the pages of plants and each was extremely realistic. His thoughts were interrupted by Daphne and Pansy.

    “Did you draw those Malfoy?” Daphne asked plucking the book out of his hand ignoring his protests.

    “No, could I have it back?” He asked glaring at the girl.

    Before she could respond Perkison interrupted, “Who’s is it Dracy?”

    “Don't call me Dracy” the boy groweld, “and I haven't the slightest idea.”

    “Oh, how did you get it?” Daphne asked.

    “I just found it, now give it back.” He stood up snatching the book up before retreating upstairs.

    “Who pissed in his cheerios?” Pansy grumbled plopping onto the couch.

    The next day you had herbology first period, you quite liked herbology you were good at it too. You loved how you could just sketch after you finished the drawing of the plants and of course you love your grade in the class. It made you feel less like a loser. Just a little less. When you plopped yourself into a seat next to a Ravenclaw boy named Casey. He was always very nice and often complimented you drawings. You would be lying if you said you didn't like him a little.

    After sitting down and greeting the boy you opened your bag to look for your sketchbook. It was nowhere to be found. What the heck? You thought as you searched through your bag with no luck. Then it struck you. You must have left it in the dungous yesterday. You cursed yourself quietly.

    “You okay?” Casey asked beside you.

    “Yeah I just lost my book,” You smiled at him blushing a bit.

    “Oh. I could help you look for it later if you want.” He offered.

    “O-oh I wouldn't want to bother you.” you blushed

    “It's no bother, I swear i want to help.” He smiled flashing a pearly set of straight teeth.

    “Ok, s-sounds good.” You stammered, you felt your face grow impossibly warmer.

    The lesson continues and you talked occasionally to Casey, you did your sketch on a piece of lined paper, you would transfer them when you found your notebook. After Herbologioy you and Casey headed down to the dungeons to look for your book. You had never really hung out with him out of class and it was nice. You were fighting a blush the whole time, you weren’t really one who interacted with attractive boys out of class.

    Draco began to make his way down to potions, he was still working through the drawings, there were many creatures he had never heard of before. It was odd, how had he never seen so many of these before? He was halfway through the dungeons when he heard giggling. It wasn't Pansy’s shriek, it was a soft quiet sound that made him think of the patter of rain on dewy grass. He turned the corner to see two figures in blue robes. One was a tall boy with dirty blond hair and deep brown eyes. Next to him was a y/h girl with y/h/l y/h/c hair that shone in the candle light. Her eyes were a stunning y/e/c that shared a soft yet sharp gaze with the world. He was taken aback. How had he never seen this girl before? They both looked at Draco expecting him to speak but he didn't, he simply kept walking brushing past the two, tucking the leather bound book back into his robes.

    As he walked away, he heard the boy mutter something to the girl, causing her to gasp and laugh,

    “Casey!” she scolded him

    “Oh come on y/n that was funny.” He teased back and Draco almost gasped in surprise. That was y/n? y/n y/l/n? No way. You were in his potions class and you never even spoke up, you were constantly messing up positions too. How was that girl the same one whose name he had grown deaf to Snape yelling? I didn't seem possible.

“Shot, I have to get to positions.” you told Casey glancing at your watch. He said goodbye as you walked quickly to your worst class. You were actually unusually excited, Luna one of your best friends had offered to help you out because you had the class together and she was quite good at potions. You entered the classroom quickly and found Lun, sitting next to the girl. As you waited for class to start you chatted about the different potions and what might be on the test.

“Wait for the dragons egg you have to turn it to powder first right?” you asked to see your friends gaze elss where.

“Dracos staring at you.” She said simply as if she hadn't just said an impossible sentence.

“What?” you asked turning around to meet a pair of silver eyes already on you. They quickly dodged away making you blush tremendously. “I saw him in the hallway eairler, and Casey made a stupid joke about him, hes probally plotting my death.” You sighed reality crashing on to you.

    “I don't think so.” Luna said in her usual dreamy tone.

    “What else would he be doing?” You murmured returning to your notes.

    Before Luna could answer Snape entered the room and you snapped your eyes to the front of the class.

    “It has come to my attention that many of you are getting nothing done in this class.” He stated harshly. You cringed this was not going to end well. “And because of that fact I have made a new seating chart,” You groaned, just when you were getting excited about positions.

    “Listen for your name and your partner,” He continued. “Parkinson, Belby. Goldstein, Crabbe. Greengrass, Lovegood.” You glanced at your friend who was as usual, smiling. You are happy for her as well, there were much worse partners to be had. “Corner, Zambini. Boot, Blustrode. Y/l/n, Malfoy.” The rest of the names went out of the window when you heard your partner. This was not going to be good, not good at all.

    When Draco heard your name called, then quickly followed by his he felt like he was going to throw up. And it wasn't because he knew you were probably going to botch whatever potion they made, it was because he wasn't sure if he could focus around you. He blushed madly and tried to think about something else. It's just a pretty girl you bloody idiot. He scolded himself. You just met her today, he reminded himself Well just realized she existed today. He was shaken out of his thoughts by Snape's voice.

“If you don't like your partner, too bad. Move together please.” Draco glanced over at y/n who was already packing up, Zambini moved from his seat apologizing to Draco for his partner and moved toward the back where Micheal was seated.

    He then saw you make your way over to him your cheeks a bit red, the same way they were when you were talking to that Casey boy in the hallway. He grimaced, how was he jealous of someone he had never spoken a word to? He then decided he would ignore every good quality you had and focus on the bad ones. That way it would be easier to pretend to hate you right?

    The second you sat down his plan failed. You smelt like vanilla and roses. He wanted to lean closer to you and inhale your addicting scent forever, but instead he moved over or so he couldn't breathe in your intoxicating fumes.  

    “Hi, i’m y/n.” You said sweetly sticking your hand out.

    “I know who you are.” Draco responded ignoring your hand and continuing to stare at the board, slouching in his seat.

    “Oh ok.” You murmured. He saw a small frown take over your soft pink lips and he felt angry for being its cause.

    Snape explained that you were to make a Confusing Concoction potion and told you you had till the end of class. The potion wasn't too complicated. You thought you might be able to get through this one.

    “I'll get the water you can work on the feathers.” Draco drawled trying not to get to close to you as he stood. You pretend not to notice.

    “Ok.” you nodded. You grabbed the feathers and began to separate the barbs from them. Not but two feathers in you yelped with pain as a barb pierced your thumb. You yanked it out hissing in pain as you saw blood drips from the wound. Draco who was now back and heating the water grimaced at the sound of your pain but refused to show that he cared.

    He sighed loudly, “Look you go clean up and I will finish the feathers.”

    “Thank you.” you whimpered walking towards a sink face red as the blood dripping from your hand.

    Draco let out a breath he didn't know he was holding after you walked past. He then sat down and began to work on the feathers. His fingers moved easily to separate the barbs from the stalk and he couldn't help but wonder how you had possible stuck yourself with one so quickly. He then heard a thump and an apology and looked up to see you stumbling back to your seat face a brilliant red as Millicent and Boot glared after you. He snickered a bit turning back to the feathers.

    Once you had most of the ingredients in you had to wait for 30 minutes for it to boil so Draco sat down and pulled out the book of drawings he had found.

    He was flipping through the pages again when he heard a gasp beside him. He looked up eyebrows raised.

    “Where did you find that?” You asked pointing at the book.

    “In the hallway.” He smirked, “Why do you care anyway?”

    “Because it's mine.” You whispered causing his cheeks to flush.

    “This is yours?” He asked surprise sewn into his voice.

    “Yes.” you nodded, “I lost it when..” your voice trailed off face growing red, “after potions.” you finished voice quiet.

    “You sure this is yours?” It came out harsher than Draco had intended but what could he do about it now?

    “Yes.” you breathed out face growing warmer. “It does have drawings in it, doesn't it?”

    “Well yeah but they are like, really good.” Only after he said it did he realise how it sounded. He instantly was filled with guilt as your face flashed with sadness and anger.

    “Yeah, well, they’re mine.” You grumbled voice quiet.

    “Here.” He handed the book to you, your hands brushed before you snatched the book away and he felt like he was going to burst at the feeling of your skin against his.

    Just then the timer on your position went off and the two of you continued to work.

    That's how it went for two weeks. You and Draco would share very few words as you worked together. Your grade did improve, but you were still quite prone to accidents and Draco rolled his eyes everytime. You went from being sad he didn't like you to being mad. He was always so rude. He would avoid speaking to you, looking at you, hell he avoided you altogether, his seat was always poised at the other end of the desk as if you were some sort of plague. All of this made you angry and frustrated. What have you done to make you so repulsive? You knew you weren't the best at potions but you had only messes up three the whole time and you were improving. You had never been rude to the boy even once, how come he hated you so much?

    “I just don't get it.” You pouted turning to Casey who was walking you down to potions.

    “It's not your fault y/n, he's like that with everyone.” He explained, “He's just a dick, not much you can do about it.”

    “But maybe if I was better at potions the-” you were interrupted by Casey.

    “Y/n its not your fault, you are amazing and sweet and kind, it's just him okay? Don't let him make you doubt yourself.”

    You blushed furiously at his words, “Thanks Case.”

    “Plus if he's really pissing you off just blow a potion up in his face.” he jeered.

    You laughed loudly, “He'd probably kill me with his icy glare.” you teased.

    “He is always glaring at you.” Casey smiled.

    “Thanks for walking me.” You said.

    “Of course, i’ll see you around y/n.” He beamed.

    “See ya.” You said before entering the classroom. You were met with Draco's frozen glare.

    “Hello Malfoy.” You greeted.

    “Y/l/n” he responded his voice vacant of any emotion.

    You sat down and glanced at the board to see what position you were working on. You then looked at Draco who was already looking at you making you blush.

    “I'll get the water.” You said promptly before standing up and snatching a cauldron. Only when you did this you left foot got caught behind your right and you plummeted to the ground. You dropped the cauldron with a clang and you hit the ground. You instantly heard laughter erupted throughout the room and you felt tears well up in your eyes. You then heard a snicker and you didn't have to see his face to know it was Draco. You blinked furiously face a deep shade of crimson. You then pushed yourself off the ground, lifted the cauldron from a few feet away and turned to face the slytherin boy. Your shyness suddenly disappearing in your rage and embarrassment when you saw the everlasting smirk perched on his lips. You felt two tears cascade down your red cheeks as you thrust the cauldron into his hands.

“Screw you Malfoy.” your voice trembled through gritted teeth. You then quickly left the classroom, laughter disappearing behind you. You made it maybe two cordors from the classroom when you saw Mckenzie. You instantly turned to run but were cut off by a few other girls already behind you.

“God y/n, such a clutz.” She snickered. “I think you belong in a physical therapy building not a wizarding school.”

You only whimpered feeling helpless and small.

“Boo-hoo poor, poor, y/n all alone.” She rubbed her eyes with her fists.”You do realize that Casey only hangs out with you because of a dare right?”

Your eyes widened in confusion.

“I made a dare that he couldn't get you to go out with him in a month and here we are, only two weeks in and you are practically drooling over him.”

You felt a sob leave your mouth. You wanted to say it wasn’t true but you knew it was. It sure as hell wasn’t a coincidence he asked to help you find your book the exact day she said she struck the deal with him. You felt angry. Sad. But most of all embarassed. You were always so embarrassed. Why where you always so fucking embarassed?!

“Guess I'll have to go out with him now that I told you about the bet” She smirked picking at her long blue nails.

“Of course.” You muttered tears falling of your chin.

“What's that?” Mckenzie smirked.

“Of course he would want to go out with you.” You began to sob and you saw Mckenzie’s smirk widen and your anger out did you.

“Of course, some douchebag like him would want to date a slutty bitch like you.” Anger dripped like poison from your voice. All of the laughter around you stopped as you felt yourself smile. You looked up through your tears to see Mkenzies mouth wide open in shock, her eyes wide in her sockets.

Anger took over her features and she pulled her wand from her robes with a shriek. “Stupify!” she shouted and you were sent sprawling backward. Your head hit the stone wall and black dots danced in your vision. You groaned closing your eyes but they popped back open when you heard another voice.

“Back off!” it yelled anger knit into its frame. You turned to see Draco heading strait at the girls. He whipped his wand once and suddenly Meckenzi flew into the air. She then dangled there like an invisible rope was tied to her ankle.

She shrieked for the girls below her to help but they just turned and ran fearful of the boy heading toward them. After the other girls disappeared Draco flicked his wand again and Mckenzie fell to the ground and began to cry.

“Get out of here before I do more than hex you.” You heard him growl.

The girl instantly stood up sobbing as she stumbled away. Draco's eyes softened when they landed on you.

“Are you alright?” he asked as he rushed over to you.

“What do you care Malfoy?” you mumbled attempting to get up only to stumble over your own feet and plummet to the ground, well you would have hit the ground if it wasn't for a pair of strong arms wrapping around you. You looked up at the blonde, his grey eyes were set on your lips and felt your heartbeat speed up to extremely high. Draco's face was now quite red as he helped you back to your feet.

“Why do you hate me?” the question rose from your lips before you could stop it. You flushed immediately after it left your mouth. Draco looked taken aback by the question.

“I don't hate you.” he stated.

“Don't lie to me. You avoid looking at me, you don't speak to me, hell you sit as far away from me as possible.” You paused looking at the boy, “I just want to know why.”

He laughed he actually laughed. What could possibly be funny right now? Was this all another joke? Did he really find your misery that funny. You flushed madly turning to leave.

“No wait love, don't leave.” Draco begged his laughter stopping abruptly.

You felt heat rush to your face at the nickname and turned around looking at the ground. Your gaze was turned upward when you felt a finger slowly lift your face upward. You had never blushed so much in your entire life.

“I don't hate you y/n. I would never hate you.” He smiled, not his usual smirk but a genuine smile and it made you go weak at the knees. “I don't think I could ever hate you.”

“Then why do you act like you do?” you asked, “Why do you avoid me? Why do you never talk to me, never look at me?”

He sighed, “I avoid you because whenever I get near you, I smell you. And it drives me crazy.” His hand caressed your cheek bone and you were pretty sure you face was on fire. “Your scent is beyond intoxicating. When I talk to you I lose track of everything else and I can only hear your voice echoing in my head.” He whispered, his minty breath danced across your face making you shudder. “And when I look at you, it's like the world disappears and it's only you standing there. Everytime I look at you I have to battle myself not to lean in and taste your lips.”

You stared at him. You couldn't breath, your It had been replaced with butterflies that were now fluting inside you madly. You were pretty sure this is what death felt like. But then something clicked inside you and your realized this wasn't death it was love.

“When it comes to you, I can focus on nothing else.” Dracos lips were so close you could feel them brush yours and you couldn't take it anymore. You grabbed the back of his head and smashed his lips onto yours.

You had never felt anything like it before, his lips danced on yours with grace you couldn't even begin to fathom. You felt his tongue slid across your lips and your eyes widened in surprise. You then shut them again opening your mouth a slight bit. You ran your hand threw his hair as he explored your mouth with his tongue pushing you up against the wall softly. You didn't want to break the kiss but you felt your lungs burn begging for air and you drew away from him.

You were both panting when you pulled apart. Your face was a bright red, your lips swollen, and hair disheveled but to Draco, you had never looked more beautiful.

“Merlin,” he gasped out, “I'm never going to focus again when I know you kiss like that.”

You flashed a brilliant red and giggled, Draco then decided he couldn't stop himself anymore, he pressed his lips against yours once again.

[mochikeiji]

[Take it Slow.]

↠ Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x Reader

↠ Warning: cursing, blood, angst, slight fluff, Mafia AU! Monster Bokuto!

⇢ Songfic! Twenty One Pilots: Heathens

✎﹏

(Welcome to the room of people

Who have rooms of people that they loved one day

Docked away

Just because we check the guns at the door

Doesn't mean our brains will change from hand grenades)

He remembers like it just happened yesterday. The only people who had shown him love— his parents. Huge men tearing his arms away from his mother's warm embrace, he remembers her screaming, his father demanding to release them, that the child meant no harm. That he was innocent.

"You would say that because you were the source of this Demon Child."

He can recall the way his heart cracked. After having to be called that, watching with empty eyes as a puddle of crimson like liquid flow on his feet. He no longer hears the screams of his parents.

"Mom? Dad?"

He hears a gun click, the men in their green uniforms yelling orders, staying a good distance away from him. When he hears no reply from his parents, something inside him snapped. They were the last people to hold his entire sanity together. Without an anchor to stop a ship from fall, it'll be like a speed of light before you'll see the action happening.

Those events caused chaos throughout Japan. And he was only 10 years old at that time.

"Demon Child, escapes, killing almost 30 of our fine men who came to put him in custody."

Always on the run, never finding a place to stay. A place to call home. No one was siding with him because of the way he looked. No one listened as he defended himself, telling his side of the story.

"I heard, he killed his parents too."

"He's said to be like a one man army. "

Laughing at society. How stupid must people be to always believe in the media's. How stupid of them to pray to God that he won't come, and do the same to their families. He never believed in anything. There was nothing to believe in a world filled with savages. There was no God controlling their lives, it was them, acting all religious and innocent. He was disgusted. He wanted to make them see reality.

Some think he was just a legend. Some knows he's lurking in the shadows in Tokyo. People using his title to scare little kids. Only his title was known, but never his name. His looks poorly described, instead they made up something that was close to make people believe.

"He had owl like hair and eyes, he was big— his body is some kind of ware human! He had sharp teeth, blood over his clothing. The Demon Child is on the lose, still growing everyday, please, if you have found anyone looking suspicious or matches the following details, immediately contact the nearest station."

He was all over the news. Soon he was about to go worldwide for exposing himself a lot. A man's gotta do what he has to do to survive right?

Everyone feared for their lives. Thinking they're all so saint, innocent, worthy enough to live. It made him puke in disgust.

Still you find yourself getting drunk of love because of this dangerous person.

(You're loving on the psychopath sitting next to you

You're loving on the murderer sitting next to you

You'll think, "How'd I get here, sitting next to you?"

But after all I've said, please don't forget)

How did you find yourself in a tight situation in the first place? Just a week ago you were just taking a train ride on the way home after school, it was already dark outside. If you haven't had a review study you would've been home already.

You would've never have to encounter him.

Like fate, you were being mugged, harassed. Long story short, you found yourself with ripped clothes, cowering in fear, then he swoons in. You can still hear the gun shots fresh in your head. The sound of bones cracking with shrill shrieks from the men in pain. Hearing a body came contact on the ground. You were afraid to meet your saviors eyes, having to experience this in first hand. Bokuto thought you were just some kind of harlot in the streets, but taking in a closer look. You were just a university student. An innocent one if he had to describe. He could hear your whimpers, see your body shaking.

He had one vow in his life after that faithful day, "Protect the weak, the innocent. Eliminate the threats." he never knew there would be people like you in this part of the world.

You remember his soft, big hands taking your smaller ones, he was gentle. He was far from what people had describe of him. But you never really believed in the Demon Child. You didn't even know you were holding hands with him. And that he saved you instead of killing you also. You were so shaken up by that day, he escorted you back to your apartment. Ever since Tokyo was in chaos, many people fled the city. Not much people in your apartment, but a lot of thugs down your blocks. He was about to leave you, disappear once again in the shadows, but you grabbed his hand, he was shocked. It was so gentle than what he has experienced before. You offered him to stay as a token of your gratitude. But you didn't know you were the ones who was staying with him forever.

You wanted to ask him where he came from. Where he was staying. You wanted to know his name, you wanted atleast some kind of background from him. But all he said were these simple words.

"Take it slow, darling. You don't know the half of the abuse."

and that's where your life started.

(We don't deal with outsiders very well

They say newcomers have a certain smell

You have trust issues, not to mention

They say they can smell your intentions)

After filing a report on murder of the men who had previously caused a scene. You were no longer safe in your apartment. Bokuto was no longer safe. You can hear loud footsteps coming from downstairs, the few people evacuating the building. All doors being kicked down, and inspected the rooms. You were the last room from the top of the building. Bokuto was calm, but inside him he doesn't want to leave without you. If he did, what would happen to you? Would those savages kill you for protecting him? No they weren't. He opens your window wide, looking at the next building just a few centimeters to jump on. Your heart was pounding, the footsteps were nearing. You felt nauseous, Bokuto grabs your jacket, and puts it on you, covering you with a hood and mask.

"Jump, I'll follow behind you."

You looked at him as if he was crazy. But you saw his dark eyes, his body in protective stance. He looked like a wolf shielding his mate. Your lips quivered, grabbing some of your belongings in a backpack, you gulped at the distance between your window and the building. Flinching as you hear the neighboring room doors burst open, you closed your eyes for a short moment, holding your breath and took a big leap on the building. Being resourceful, you used your bag as a soft cushion for impact. Grumbling to get up, your eyes scanning the opened window, waiting for Bokuto to join you.

Back in the room Bokuto was impressed at your action. When the locked door was being knocked on hard, he pushed all the furniture against it before jumping out, expertly landing on his feet in front of you. He grabs your arms, carrying you in a princess style, and started running.

"Just close your eyes if you don't want to see what's going to happen."

But you didn't, each sound of the gun shots, sirens the smell of gun powder, blood, smoke, everything you took in on that day as if you were reborn.

"You bought home another one, Bokuto san?"

You stood frozen in your spot. Bokuto had ran a long way, but being fazed by the sirens and gun shots, you didn't realize you were in some kind of dark building with a bunch of guys that look way more dangerous than thugs.

"She's different."

He pulls your hoodie off carefully, letting you hair fall down to your face. But you kept your mask on, remembering his words when he was running,

"Be careful with my crew. They're all quite wary with new comers, darling. We have....trust issues."

You gulped when Bokuto left your side, you hugged yourself as the boys began to huddle over you, eyes looking like they could kill you on the spot. The one who spoke earlier kept a good distance, but his eyes were cold as ice as they bore into you.

"Leave her. She's clean."

They all followed. Was he some kind of leader? Just what we're you getting yourself into?

(You're loving on the freakshow sitting next to you

You'll have some weird people sitting next to you

You'll think "How did I get here, sitting next to you?"

But after all I've said, please don't forget)

Everyone sat on the floor, having a short meeting with Bokuto. You on the other hand, just stayed seated on the corner, shying away from the men who seem to deem you as a threat.

"Hey, (Y/n), come here."

You hear his fingers snap, with shaking legs you slowly made your approach, he pats a spot next to him, gingerly taking a seat beside him. He spoke in a low tone voice.

"Do you know who we are?"

You shake your head, "N-no."

"Do you want to know who we are?"

You didn't move an inch when his hand came forward, brushing against your cheek for a short while, before pulling down your mask.

"You look much better like that, darling."

One second you were scared. Now you were flustered. Snapping out of the feelings, you let a weak, "yes". Wanting to know their identities, their background. Why they were all running away from the police. It took almost several hours of listening to everyone's stories, and names. Almost crying at everyone's stories, especially Bokuto's. You were understanding the deeper meaning on how life was so cruel. You learned that the man earlier was named, Akaashi Keiji. Bokuto's first encounter with— people fear how intelligent he was. He was abused so much by his family for admiring the Demon Child. Taking defense on saying maybe he used to be innocent, and people mistaken him for his actions. He was Bokuto's most dearest and first friend.

"S-so, your name is Bokuto Koutarou?"

"Feels nice to hear it from you, darling."

"Hey, (Y/n). Be sure not betray us, or else."

The guy, Konoha, you presumed threatens. You almost hid yourself behind Bokuto by grabbing his arm in instinct, "Now, now, Konoha. You're scaring the little lady." Another guy, Washio if you have that correct came to defend you. The rest bickered on about you being a threat, and how someone as weak, and defenseless like you against them could get away. You feel Bokuto's hand grip your shoulder firmly, his hot breath against your ear as he murmurs out a familiar set of words.

"Take it slow, darling. You don't know the half of the abuse."

(All my friends are heathens, take it slow

Wait for them to ask you who you know

Please don't make any sudden moves

You don't know the half of the abuse)

It had almost been 2 months since you've gotten used to the gangs presence, and them with yours. You became like the mother of the group, and yet still the child of the group. You've gotten use to see them make deals with other men in Tokyo to earn money, weapons, seen them kill in front of your eyes whenever things get heated. Akaashi would be first to pull you away from the sight of Bokuto snapping someone's neck, or slowly torturing them to death.

You weren't completely used to see Bokuto kill people. Knowing it was for your safety, you wish you could a day without having to hear muffled screams, and pleadings from both men and women.

"Hey (Y/n), why don't you come here and sit with us." Washio calls out, flicking his cigarette on the floor, crushing it on his feet. "Eat, (Y/n), you're the only one who eats less here. It's unfair of us to be selfish." Akaashi offers you a plate filled with food. After having 2 months to stay with them, and staying silently at your place, you had gotten thin from the lack of nutrients. You ate slowly, not wanting to look improper in front of a group of men.

"Um...thank you!" You bowed all of a sudden.

They had their eyes widened, they thought you were going to scream for help like most people, but instead they heard a thank you.

"For what?"

"F-for taking me in! And, for the meal with you guys for the first time!"

Everyone looked at eachother before chuckling. Bokuto stood up from his chair, removing the black gloves on his hands before patting your head.

"Now do you trust her?"

You looked behind, listening to his words.

"Fine, fine. She's innocent, Bokuto."

"See! I told you she was innocent from the moment I saw her." hitching your breath, you admired his wide smile. It seemed so genuine despite everything that was going on.

"Don't worry no too much, (Y/n)! You're part of the gang."

He kneels down next to you, fingers down your chin and gently pulling them to meet his eyes.

"And I will protect you."

He doesn't know when, why. But he knows deep inside, he was allowing himself to fall inlove.

And it was dangerous.

(Why'd you come? You knew you should have stayed)

The building was surrounded.

They should've known they were going to spotted if they stayed long. The team was packing up all weapons and sources they could carry. You stayed hidden on the behind some of the boxes as they opened the doors to be met by almost an army of men with guns.

"Freeze!"

You hear the commander yell, all of the team hidden and scattered on many places, as Bokuto was kneeled onto the ground.

As bait.

The police force were closing in, as they were, everyone inside the building started firing guns, Bokuto running off as he throws in a flash bomb. Blinding many, easily shooting all down in ease.

(I tried to warn you just to stay away)

Things had gotten out of hand when one soldier threw in a bomb. Setting the building on fire. Akaashi held your hand, running alongside with the team to somewhere safe.

"W-wait, where's Bokuto?"

Everyone stayed silent. Akaashi just grips onto you tighter, but he underestimated you. You kicked him on the groin, his hand releasing your arm as you ran away from them before they had the chance to catch up.

You were nearing at the sounds of gun shots, you spot Bokuto hidden on a left over concrete, face smeared with blood, and smoke.

"Bokuto!"

You ran next to him, kneeling behind the concrete wall.

"(Y/n) what the fuck, I said get out of here!"

"Like hell will I leave you!"

(And now they're outside ready to bust)

He was taken back at your outburst and strong willed personality, startled by a bullet almost hitting his head, shooting the man down instantly. You looked behind the wall, instructing Bokuto where to shoot. Since your were small, you weren't easily spotted.

Shooting the last man down. Bokuto sighs. He was out of bullets. You gasped out a breath you were holding in, only to have your eyes shrink back.

There was someone behind him.

As if in slow motion, you pushed Bokuto back. Taking in his position, pulling out a gun that was secretly tucked in your pants and hoodie.

Firing quicker before the man could have a chance.

Bokuto was in awestruck. Who knew you had it in you all the time. Panting at the rush of adrenaline, Bokuto gets up from his spot and pulls you in his arms, crashing his lips almost roughly. Getting addicted to the way on how perfectly and delicious they felt on his, he bites on your lower lip harshly, dominating you with his height.

From the innocent, and scared girl you were, now looking like a hot badass in his eyes.

He had learned that you were more than capable as much as he was.

And he now knew that falling inlove with you was never dangerous, but exciting as it adds thrill in his life.

And finally, someone who actually listened to the others side, and learned to love them.

(It looks like you might be one of us)

The two of you walked hand in hand. Stopping abruptly in front of the man you had just shot. His eyes skim your body, and then your face weekly. You looked so innocent. Tainted by evil.

"W-what have you done to her?"

He weakly utters out, only to be stepped on the head by Bokuto. Who was annoyed. How dare he blame him for making you like this. You places a hand on his chest, telling him to take his feet of the fallen man.

Kneeling down in front of you, just lowered your lips next to his ear, murmuring something. You hear him let out a scream, before it was cut off by head shot deep in his skull. Bokuto licks his lips at the sight of you getting up slowly, gun on your hand as you blew off the smoke.

"Take it slow, dear. You don't know the half of the abuse."

[citrinekay]

I've had a prompt rolling around in my brain the past couple of days, I keep thinking of Holden's car breaking down in the rain, and he has to make his way to a payphone, and he calls Bill, because he doesn't know who else to call. I keep thinking about Bill being worried he'll get sick because he's soaking wet. Sorry if this is disjointed sending asks gives me anxiety >>

Nothing to worry about at all, hon. This makes perfect sense to me! Here you go, hope you enjoy 💕

Holden’s father had instilled a healthy respect for car maintenance in him from a young age, and he considers himself a responsible person when it comes to his possessions; but some things just can’t be foreseen. There were no warning signs, no little lights popping up on his dash to tell him that something was wrong, but still, as his car sputters out on the side of the road, he figures this is somehow his fault. 

It’s late evening on a Friday, the ragged conclusion of a long week out of state on consult. It’s no more than a thirty minute drive between the airport and his apartment, but his little Nova, which up until this very moment had been trustworthy and faithful, couldn’t make it that far. On top of everything else, it’s raining. Not a mist or a drizzle, but a deluge that rolls from the rumbling sky in unrelenting gusts that don’t appear to be stopping anytime soon.

 As the engine clicks and dies on the gravel shoulder of the road, Holden leans his forehead against the steering wheel to brace back a wave of tearful dismay. Not only does he usually leave car repair up to knowledgeable professionals, but he’d also been looking forward to crawling into his own bed after an arduous week spent tracking down a pedophile and murderer. 

A rift of anger rises up from his sudden despair, and he leans back to strike the wheel with the heel of his hand. 

“Fuck!” The curse chokes from his throat, punctuating the steady drum of rain against the metal exterior of the car. 

He breathes heavily into the silence for a long moment until the initial rush of panic and alarm fades. He tries to think clearly about his options. He should call someone. But who? It’s much too late for shops to be open, and he doesn’t want to call the police department and create a scene. He could call a cab, but that might take awhile. And before he can pursue any of those options, he has to find a phone to even call from first.

Holden rubs his tired eyes, and scans the street. 

He knows where he is. Just think … Payphone. The corner of Mission Street and Jackson Road. Two blocks away. 

“Fuck.” Holden says, aloud, again. 

He’s exhausted, and he doesn’t want to walk two blocks in the pouring down rain; but what other choice does he have?

Gathering his collar up around his neck, Holden draws in a deep breath, and shoulders his way out of the vehicle. The rain is coming down so hard that he’s almost instantly soaked, his hair drenched and plastered to his head, his trench coat barely concealing his shivering body from the biting gust of cold wind and stinging droplets. 

For a moment, he thinks about climbing back into his car and waiting it out, but he doesn’t want to face the possibility of the rainstorm persisting through the night. Putting his head down, he trudges away from his car in the direction of Jackson Road. 

The shoulder of the street is washed out in the rain, creating a treacherous obstacle course of sliding gravel, loosened rocks, miry sludge, and muddy puddles, two of which he manages to step directly into. It’s difficult to see with his eyes squinting shut against the driving rain and the scarce streetlamps lining this particular strip of deserted asphalt. 

If his car had broken down just two blocks later, he would have been in a much better position. There’s a tavern and gas station at the intersection along with the payphone, some sign of civilization that this forested stretch of road where he’s abandoned is absent of. 

Holden clenches his jaw and drags his coat more tightly around himself as a fresh clench of frustration seizes his chest. Part of him wants to sit down on the side of the road just to rest his trembling legs, but he pushes on, determined to get to the payphone in as little time as possible. 

Eventually, he approaches Jackson Road, a darkened street of shops with only the neon blow of the tavern sign smudged against the black sky in rain-drizzled reds and greens to light the way. Across the street, the gas station with two sad pumps is illuminated by a few overhead lights that attract more insects than people at this time of night. The phone booth stands like a beacon at the corner of the intersection, interior lit by a single, bare bulb. 

Holden rushes to the payphone, relief washing through his chest. The sliding door protests on rusty, jammed hinges as he grabs the handle, and it takes a few forceful pulls to get it open far enough for him to slip inside. 

The steady, cold patter of rain on his cheeks cuts off abruptly as he stumbles into the glass enclosure. Bracing a hand against one wall, he draws in a shuddering breath and tries to subdue the bone-deep, chilled shiver running through his body. 

His relief lasts bare seconds. Now what?

Turning to the pay phone, Holden tucks his hand in his pocket to search for coins. As he sorts out the quarters, he bites anxiously at his lower lip. The booth has no telephone book, and he doesn’t know any numbers for a cab off the top of his head. Nervously jostling the quarters in his hand, he glances down at his watch. 

10:35. Christ, it’s late. 

Holden presses his eyes shut as a solution rises in the back of his mind. He can feel rain dripping from his hair and sluicing down his cheeks, absorbing through his clothes to chill his skin. His belly shudders from deep inside and his feet hurt, cold and miserable from the long walk in the storm. He’s stranded, and he doesn’t have any other choice. 

Shoving aside his nerves, Holden feeds the quarters into the narrow slot and listens to them fall to the bottom with a metallic clatter. He picks up the phone, and slowly dials the number he knows by heart. 

As he listens to the shrill ring of the phone, he feels a sudden wave of emotion crawl up the back of his throat. He’s thinking rapidly and all at once: Please pick up. Please don’t be mad. Please help me. And finally: Well, this is just fucking pathetic, isn’t it? 

The phone rings six times, and he thinks about hanging up. He could call the operator and get a cab service. He could call the police and they would be more than happy to send someone out - it’s their job after all. His anxiety is about to overwhelm him when the repetitive tone cuts off, and the line rustles with movement.

“Hello?” Bill’s voice is muted and raspy with confusion. 

“Bill.” Holden says, pressing his eyes shut. His cheeks flush with heat that competes with the chill of the rain. 

“Holden?” Bill’s sleepy confusion quickly breaks out into concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, I’m sorry it’s late. I didn’t know who else to call.”

“What’s going on?”

“I, um … I just got back into town, and my car broke down, if you can believe it.” Holden says, a nervous chuckle rising from the back of his throat. 

“Oh, man, talk about shit luck. Are you okay?” 

“I’m fine. I just …”

“Where are you?”  

“Well, my car broke down back on Ellis, but I’m at the payphone at Mission and Jackson.”

“Shit, it’s raining cats and dogs. I hope you didn’t walk all that way.”

“How else would I have gotten here?”

“Jesus, you must be freezing.” Bill says, his tone taking on a note of worry. “Stay inside. I’m on my way.”

“Thanks. And I’m really sorry about this. I know it’s late and it’s an inconvenience and-”

“Don’t worry about it. Now the sooner we get off here the sooner I can come pick you up.”

“Right.”

“Okay, stay put. I’ll be there in about fifteen minutes.”

“Okay. Thanks, Bill.”

“Yep.” Bill says, quickly, before hanging up. 

Holden puts the phone down, and leans back against the cold glass partition. Relief surges through his chest at the prospect of not having to walk one more foot in the rain, but despite Bill’s eagerness to help, he’s still anxious. Ever since Atlanta, they’ve been walking around on egg-shells with each other. Holden doesn’t want to intrude on Bill’s privacy as he goes through his divorce, and Bill seems too focused on his own problems and work to regard Holden’s tenuous grasp on his panic disorder. He’d never wanted to be a nuisance or create problems he couldn’t solve on his own. He’d never wanted to be babysat, or for anyone to think he needed supervision - but apparently he had; and now he’s facilitating yet another situation that Bill is required to pull him out of. He wants to pick the phone back up and call just to say “You’re not mad about this, are you?” But Bill has probably already left the house. 

Drenched and shivering, Holden cowers in the phone booth for the next fifteen minutes until he sees Bill���s car through the smudged pane of glass. 

Bill pulls up at the curb, and climbs out of the car. Rain dampens his hair and the shoulders of his trench coat as he pulls a blanket out of the passenger’s seat and carries it across the sidewalk to where Holden is slipping out of the booth. 

“Thanks for coming.” Holden says, blinking against the surge of rain. “You brought me a blanket?”

“Yeah. Jesus, look at you.” Bill says, his brow pinching with worry as he unfurls the blanket. 

Lowering his head, Holden revels in quiet disbelief as Bill drapes the blanket around his shoulders, and draws it closed at his chest. 

“Come on, you’re going to catch a cold.” Bill says, his hand bracing against the middle of Holden’s back to lead him towards the car. 

Holden quietly lets Bill guide him to the passenger’s side and hold the door open for him. Slipping into the vehicle, Holden lets out a shuddering sigh of relief at the warm air blasting from the dashboard vents. 

Bill jogs around the hood of the car, and climbs behind the wheel. When he pulls the door shut behind him, the interior falls into silence except for their muted, heavy breathing, and the quiet sound of Holden’s teeth shivering against one another. 

“You okay?” Bill asks. 

“Yeah.” Holden whispers, his voice unsteady with a chilled tremor.

 He slips his eyelids open to peek across the car at Bill. His face is illuminated in the pale light from the dashboard, rain-slick lips pursed into a grim line of worry, his usually perfectly combed hair flattened with the rain. He doesn’t look angry.

“I’m really sorry about this.” Holden whispers, drawing the blanket tighter around his shoulders. “It’s so late-”

“I said not to worry about it.” Bill says, firmly but gently. “Frankly, I’d be more upset if I found out later that this happened and you didn’t call me.”

Holden glances back down at his lap where his numb fingers are white-knuckled around the blanket. It has that foreign smell of someone else’s house lightly concealed by the ashy sting of cigarettes. Abruptly, he feels like crying again. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Bill asks. 

Holden nods, pressing his eyes shut. “I’m just really tired.”

“Okay, let’s get you home.” 

Holden turns his face toward the window where the storm outside continues to rage. The car softly lurches into motion as a tear stings the corner of his eye. He lifts his chin against his cheek to let the emotion absorb into the soft microfiber of the blanket along with the rain. It takes him just as long the drive back to his apartment for him to realize that he isn’t just overwrought or extremely tired, but relieved - as if he’s been holding his breath since Atlanta, waiting for everything to spill over between them, waiting for Bill’s disapproval to come crashing down on his fragile shoulders. It hasn’t come, and apparently it never will; he’s been shadowboxing with lying ghosts. 

At his apartment, Bill shuts off the engine, and climbs out of the car. Holden steps out onto the street on the other side, letting the blanket slide from his shoulders. 

“I’ll walk you in.” Bill says.

“You don’t have to do that.”

Bill circles around the car, his expression determined and unwavering. He waves a finger at the drooping blanket. “Come on, put that back on.”

“It’s yours, I don’t want to take it.”

“You know how long that thing has been sitting in my closet for?” Bill asks, pulling the blanket back up around Holden’s neck. He nods toward the building. “Come on, the blanket is the least of my worries. I don’t want you getting sick.”

Holden doesn’t protest again as Bill leads them across the street to the lobby. He punches in the door code with cold, shivering fingers that he quickly sticks back underneath the blanket when the door unlocks. 

In the elevator, neither of them say a word, but Bill’s hand is tucked loosely against Holden’s lower back. It’s not grabbing or forceful, just resting there almost protectively. When Holden closes his eyes, he can feel the weight of it more than the bone-chilled shivers running all the way to the core of his body. 

Holden leads the way to his door, and drags his keys out of pocket with numb fingers. 

“You should get out of those wet clothes right away.” Bill says, quietly.

Holden nods. “I will.”

“Good. The last thing we need is you catching a cold or pneumonia.”

“Yeah.” Holden mutters, jiggling his key in the lock. 

“Hey,” Bill says, touching his elbow. 

Holden glances up from the lock, and Bill’s eyes are soft in the low light of the corridor, worried and unaccusing. 

“We need you.” He says, “So take care of yourself, okay?”

Holden’s throat tightens, and he nods. Shrugging his shoulders to indicate the blanket, he says, “I’ll get this back to you on Monday.”

“Sure. Keep it if you want.” 

Holden frowns softly as Bill gives him a pat on the back, and moves past him back in the direction of the elevator. 

“Let me know if you need a ride to work on Monday.” He says. 

“Thanks, I will.”

“Okay, see you then.”

Holden stands with his key in the lock as he watches Bill amble down the hall back towards the elevator. A slight smile tugs at his mouth. 

When Bill is out of sight, he gets the door open, and slips into his apartment with a sigh of relief. 

First, he drapes the blanket over the arm of the couch, and takes off his wet clothes. When he’s in clean, dry pajamas, he goes into the kitchen to boil water for tea, and as the kettle warms, shuffles into the living room where the discarded blanket is lying. Picking it up, momentarily holds it to his nose, and closes his eyes as he inhales the lingering, warm smell underneath the rain. If he washes it, that scent will be gone. 

Carrying the blanket into his bedroom, Holden uses clothespins to hang it from the curtain rod to dry. Faint light from the streetlamp filters through the microfiber, casting a soft, pinkish glow across his room. The cold in his bones is almost entirely melted away, and he feels warm again. 

[atombombbagel]

You think you could do a short story about what happened to Hancock right after he took the radiation drug? (Like what do you think that felt like? Do you think it involved a lot of puking? Do you think it was before or after he became mayor? Do you think at some point Hancock thought he was gonna die?) All I've gotta say is I figure ghoulification is very unpleasant and painful as all hell.

written by @fantomofthehiddles, because they are so much better at explaining this stuff than I am 

[[Just to be clear, this is based on my own monsterpost about ghoulification from a bit ago + our talks with Bagel where we were figuring out Hancock’s timeline and figured his change “to become a better man” must’ve happened all at once. Personally, I kinda don’t see Hancock becoming mayor and THEN changing into a ghoul and people just being okay with it, especially since this process would have to take two weeks minimum. It must’ve been before he overthrew Vic, but we also know he was human when he was a drifter… so that leaves only one moment in his life when this could’ve happened.]][[And no, I don’t think he thought he was gonna die. I think he HOPED he was gonna die.]][[But to everything else I say: yes, yes, and YES. And “enjoy” ;)]]

[[PS. And what do you mean, ‘a short story’? What is this combination of words I’ve never seen before??]]

John brushed his blonde hair away from his face, leaning on his knees over the pill he rolled about in his hands. He wiped his tear-stained face with his sleeve. The image of Tom’s head split open on the sidewalk was still freshly seared in his mind, and John could see it every time he closed his eyes. Tom wasn’t his friend. They didn’t even like each other. But no one deserved such a fate. John remembered how he’d moved towards the body, for no reason he could think of, only to stop when one of Vic’s goons, a walking monster truck called Brett, of all names, had aimed at him with his submachine gun. “Whatcha gon’ do, McDonough?” he’d said mockingly, laughing when John did take a step back, gritting his teeth. There really was nothing he could do, was there? Just like before. Just like always. There was nothing he could do. Or, he did everything he could. Or was it just something he was telling himself to be able to sleep at night? He stifled a sob as another wave of tears flowed down his face. He wasn’t even a man anymore. He was… next to nothing.Might as well, right?The pill was round and pretty big, a perfect sphere in all regards except for one small indentation probably marking the spot where it would start… John didn’t want to think about it. He just wanted to escape the promenade of mistakes that his life was. The image of brains on cement. The bloody body parts scattered in the ruins. He exhaled sharply and swallowed the pill before he could change his mind, washing it down with a bottle of vodka as it made an impossible amount of stops down his oesophagus. Well. It’s done. No taking it back now. All he could do now was wa…The pain began so abruptly it caught him completely unprepared. He doubled down, digging his fingers into his abdomen as it pierced through him, this debilitating power tearing at him from within. He couldn’t move, he couldn’t even scream as the pain spread to every part of his body, seemingly even to his bones… and then suddenly let go and diminished into nothing but odd discomfort in the pit of his stomach.

John pulled himself from the ground and sat back on the crate between one display and another in the Old State House storeroom. He could hear steps over his head, guards shifting places, completely unaware that he’d snuck in here just to fuck with them. Just because Vic said he wasn’t supposed to. And Vic was just two floors up, he thought to himself. Every fiber of John’s being wanted only to get his hands on a gun, go up there, and shoot that fucking bastard in the face. See HIS brains on the sidewalk. But that wasn’t going to happen, was it?He gulped what was left of the vodka all at once–and in another minute, he was on all fours giving it all back to the floor. He cursed and grabbed some tarp to clean it up. Oh, it wasn’t supposed to be like this. Fuck. It was hard enough to get in here under Vic’s guards’ noses; the last thing he needed was to alert them to his presence by gurgling his guts out and screaming in pain. Yet, somehow, through the mind-clouding nausea and head-splitting headache, he knew it was only going to get worse.

While he still could stand up and move around a little, he slid some display cases in to barricade the door. The last thing he needed was to be found out by someone while… Another wave of nausea sent him to his knees. He quickly latched on to a steel bucket he found in the corner, and when he raised his head, he could see there was blood mixed in with the vomit. Fuck. He could feel it pooling in his mouth, filling it with the taste of iron and… rot? Fuck. He spat it out into the bucket.Then, fever hit. His strength was diminishing fast; soon, it was an exorbitant effort to even turn to the other side as he lay on the tarp on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chin like that was supposed to help with the cramps. Ohh, he was never going to tell another woman she was overreacting. This was karma punishing his ignorance, he was sure of it. And boy, did he deserve it on so many levels.Could he just die yet?He didn’t know how long he lay there–hours? days? weeks?–shivering, no, shaking, really, barely able to breathe, pain clawing at his body as he yearned for the end… His mind barely holding on, and yet still insanely clear. It was like living through every pain of his entire life… and surviving. If he could, he would’ve shot himself in the head right now, just to stop the pain, just to finally rid the world of himself; but also, there was something there… pulling on his consciousness like a child tugging at their mother’s skirt as his brother played nearby… something that wanted him to live. Something that stroked his head and said it would all be… just fine. But how could it? Heart pounding like crazy… Fighting for every breath… like living underwater… Water… Holy fuck, he was so thirsty… Everything was pain. Burning… Even through the haze he could feel his skin… falling off. Every move hurt more than the last, but… was he even moving? Or was he swimming? What was that?… Green skies?… A child…? What…?

When he awoke, he immediately retched out a dark, thick puddle of whatever was left of his stomach, apparently. Everything was… blurry and dark… Ugh, he still wasn’t fully there. Where was he, actually? Old State House? But… Fuck, he was so out of it. Even the worst trips he’d ever had were never this… Never like this. The pain was mostly gone now, though. At least that. John pulled himself from the tarp and saw his silhouette still perfectly painted on it in what looked like watered-down blood and… pieces of him. His hair was spread like an aureola around the place where his head just lay.John wiped his face and nearly jumped out of his skin when he pulled off a good part off his nose straight off his head. He dropped in on the tarp. “What the actual fuck?” he mumbled. That was not how he expected this to go. As he pulled himself up on shaky arms, he suddenly felt how insanely hungry he was. Thankfully, he brought some food with him when he was coming down here, though tatoes were no longer an option. At least… Holy shit.His gaze fell on his blurry reflection in one of the cleaner display cases and John couldn’t help but stare at how much had changed. There was a bony ridge jutting out from where he’d just pulled his nose off. His eyes were pitch black. Every bit of hair he ever had was gone. He couldn’t help but check, but yeah, down there, too. Geez, he should grow up.For some reason, he couldn’t take his eyes off of that reflection. It still seemed surreal. But then, the world around still felt surreal, too. Was it really him? Did he really…? He stared at his hands, covered in scars and red burns. Hissed, pulling off some fingernails that still held on, even though crooked and clearly dead. God… What has he done to himself?He fell back to his knees. His heart was pounding as he buried his face in his hands. It wasn’t supposed to be like this… This was supposed to fix him… or kill him. He was supposed to be dead. He didn’t deserve to live anyway, not after everything that had…

A shiver went through him. There was a hand stroking his head. He looked up and his black gaze fell into his mother’s warm, gray eyes. “It’ll all be fine,” she said with a comforting smile. “I still love you, baby, even if you’re someone else. It wasn’t your fault. None of it.” Then John blinked and she was gone, and for a second, he felt debilitatingly alone. But he wasn’t, was he? He wasn’t the only disembodied, homeless bastard in this town, in this world. But they were all huddled up, beaten down. Even though all it would take was for one single person to just… get up. And if there was anything John ever did wrong, it was waiting for someone else to get up first.It was right there in front of him the entire time. 'John Hancock’ written in faded, fancy letters above that silly outfit he’d laughed at before… all this. Before John Hancock.Might as well, right?

> Epilogue:“Hi, Timmy, and thanks for the help,” he said to the drunk drifter he’d paid to keep an eye out for the guards when he’d been sneaking in.“Huuh?” Timmy replied, eyeing him mistrustfully. “Who the fuck are you? Where’s McDonough?”“He’s gone,” John replied, reveling in what he was about to say. “I’m John Hancock now. And don’t worry, pal…” He patted his shoulder. “…I’m gonna fight for us.”

[teddyylou]

Seven Minute Siege: aka that fan fiction I've been half assedly promoing

Here it is Chapter 1/15

PART 1: SILENT WITNESSES

Caspar’s Story:

STARTS 9:48 AM

Who actually needs to know what year the Berlin wall was built?

After a good ten minutes of trying to force myself to pay attention, I give up, easing my cramped hand and dropping my pencil on the table. I sat there staring at it, SpongeBob print mocking me, while it rolled onto the floor.

Mental note; thank Joe for that stationary set later.

The saddest part is that I actually like history.

It’s even sadder that I wouldn’t like it apart from the fact that Mr P. was the teacher. He was the first teacher who actually looked like they wanted to be there, and not in a creepy; over the top way, but he was also the first teacher who actually gave me a chance. He quickly became my advisor in freshman year, and I couldn’t thank him enough.

“Caspar? Caspar! Are you listening?” I hear someone snap their fingers and I look away from my pencil, which has made its way over to the bookshelf next to my desk and is currently chilling with a 2006 copy of People Magazine. Bless the American Education System. I see that it was Mr P. and I give him an apologetic smile.

Great job, Caspar

“I get that you only have three weeks left of high school but that is no excuse to feel like you do not have to-”

BANG! Crackle BANG!

“AHHHHHHG!!!”

BA- CRACKLE!

The loudspeaker cut out and the whole class is left silent and wide-eyed.

What in the hell..?

Mr P. looks from the P.A. in question over to us, then back to the P.A. His teeth are clenched together in a ‘what the fuck’ kind of way. He clears his throat before turning to us once more.

“I’m sure someone in the office just fell on the loudspeaker button… Back to work guys.” Mr P coaxed with his usual smile, but due to the uncertainty in his voice, not a single student resumed their study.

My stomach churned, Mr. P’s words just slipped through my mind like a whisper.

The class were all wide-eyed and dead silent. A pin dropping could have be heard. I looked at the faces of my classmates, the people I had come to know slightly better over the semester, most of which I had never spoken to until senior year. Their expressions were not necessarily scared, but at the same level of ‘what the fuck’ that Sir was at moments ago.

From the back of the classroom Sam Pepper, a generally loud and obnoxious kid, reluctantly raised his hand.

“Sir, even if they fell on the button, that didn’t sound normal for an office. Should we- should we lock down?” His voice cracked in his sentence through fear.

“No, no, it’s fine… Come on guys.” Mr P sounded completely unfazed by the sound we just witnessed. I understand that teachers have to keep us calm and all, but if he is only pretending that everything will be fine, he is doing a good job of it. But unfortunately he is the only one doing so.

Mr P sighs, “Guys, fine. If anything is really wrong, the alarm will go off. Until then, we have nothing to worry about.” Our teacher encouraged. I had a bad feeling about this and I’m sure the feeling amongst the other students was mutual.

9:49 AM

Mr P sat timidly at his desk, hands clasped together and tense. I think the tension of the situation was growing on him as he went from his still position behind his desk, to quickly jumping out of his seat faster than lightning. He marched directly over to the door, reaching out both hands to close it. But just his hands reached the doorknob; he was pushed back by a strong force and knocked onto the floor.

Screams were let out as a red colour appeared across his chest, spreading quickly staining his blue button-up shirt. It was like the universe went into slow motion as a man in a black beanie concealing his face, only enough so that he could see, pushed our teacher to the floor as he stormed the classroom, gun in hand. He fired across the classroom as people ducked and dived for cover before their brains could register what was happening. Students were dropping like flies in their attempt to escape the mad man’s fire.

After coming to my senses of what was happening, I jumped behind the bookcase and pulled my knees to my chest. I cover my ears in an attempt to block out the sounds of my classmates and friends’ screams. I can’t comprehend what is happening as bullets fly around the room like darts, hitting people multiple times. Who could be doing this? Why? I see a body fall practically on to me, ripping me out of trance as I jump in shock and horror. I almost let out a scream as I push it off noticing that it was the body of none other than Sam Pepper that was now lying next to me; my clothes are saturated in his blood as wet, hot tears stream down my face.

I rock back and forth while the gunshots continue. Then all of a sudden they stop, just as fast as they had started. Either everyone was dead or I had gone deaf due to the bullets. All I could hear was my own heart beat through every part of my body as I held my breath.

I remember what my mother told me. If I’m ever in this situation, play dead.

The figure walks around the bodies of senior students checking to make sure no one is alive. I quickly go limp and continue to hold my breath as I shut my eyes; Pretending that Sam’s blood is my own. I feel the man walk past me and stop. I try not to move.

I want to scream.

I give all of my will power not to squint my eyes further, or do anything to show that I am not dead. If I try anything I’ll be dead before I could finish it. I hear what I think is him finally walking away. I count to thirty before deciding to sit up.

I look around the now silent classroom, amongst the red puddles and splatters on the floor and walls, to see that I am the only one left alive.

As the silence continues, I decide to stand. I walk lines through the desks. Slowly, not trying to touch anyone, checking that maybe someone is still breathing. I see dead bodies left and right, still with eyes open. Clutched stomachs, and hurled over bodies from pain, the stench of death already lingering. I make it to the front of the room, failing in an attempt to steady my breaths and tears.

I head to the door, peeking my head around the frame. It would be stupid to leave; the man could walk out from anywhere and shoot me. I bring my whole body back inside the classroom and press it to the wall, hidden against it.

Not sure if I can bear to look at anything in the room for any longer, I let out a breath with my eyes squeezed shut.

I wait in silence.

…1…

…2…

…3…

I suck my breath right back in and slide down the wall to the floor when the gunshots start again.

9:50 AM

From my spot in a ball against the orange felt walls, I hear the door of the classroom next to ours get broken into, the cries of a teacher trying to save his students, who at least bothered to make them go into lockdown.

I try to find something to distract myself from what was going on, so I can pretend I’m not helplessly pressed against a wall clinging onto it for dear life. The sounds of gunshots go off around me echoing through the halls as screams and cries ring in my ears. Unfortunately the only other thing I can see from my spot on the floor is the dead corpse of my favourite teacher.

I feel like I never got to repay him for everything he did for me. He was the one who helped my with my dyslexia, he was the only one who tried to find other solutions for me to complete my work. He never dismissed my Tourette’s as bad behaviour. He understood my ticks. But most importantly, out of everything, he helped my come into terms with myself and helped me believe that who I was, was okay and nothing to be ashamed of.

In a time where I was to afraid to even come to school, or go home, he gave me council, and we talked it out. He made me realise that I was normal and that I had nothing to worry about. He told me to come to him if anyone was ever mean to me, and he advised me when I told him about my crush on my now three year boyfriend Joe.

We had gotten together at the end of freshman year, and today of all days was our three-year anniversary. Mr P helped me build up courage to ask him out. Joe was always so confidant and one of the only openly gay guys at our school. There was Tyler and Troye, two best friends who I was always too afraid to talk to. There was also Connor Franta but he didn’t come out until the end of last year.

It was only through Mr P and Joe that I can now say that all of those people, plus many more are now my best friends in the whole world.

Speaking of anniversaries, it just occurred to me that a certain event was due to happen just after school was let out. Three weeks from now, at the start of the break, Mr P was going to get married. Joe, the rest of my family and I were all invited and we were hardly ever not talking about it.

I let out a small whimper thinking about him and his fiancé. She was lovely; she was a musician and had an amazing sense of humour. He was caring and brilliant. They were perfect for each other. He was stupid for not going into lockdown. But neither of them deserved this. No one did.

My thoughts were interrupted as I noticed the unnerving silence which must have meant that the gunshots had stopped, then I heard a small creak of a door from across the hall. Curiosity got the best of me and I peeked my head around the corner yet again. My eyes widened as I met an equally scared looking pair of eyes, belonging to no other then Arden Rose. She was hiding in the doorway of the library, obviously not knowing the situation, and scared out of her brains. I silently urged for her to run back into the library. Using my hands as signals but it was clear she had no idea what I was trying to get across to her.

She took one look at me, then down the hall, I knew what she was planning and I wanted to run over to her and stop her before she did. I sat helplessly in the doorframe as she met my worried gaze one more. I knew the man had left the second classroom, he would see her. In a flash she launched herself from her spot, only to slam herself back against it as a bullet was fired straight at her. My heart stopped as it hit the brickwork, only just missing her. What was she doing! I could only stare at her while willing my heart to start again as the sound of a door slamming to the ground and more bullets and more scream echoed in my ears. I tried to signal to her to run, but I knew I was too late. So was off sprinting down the hall, book bag flying behind her. I bashed my hands on the wall as a slammed my head back into it in a mix of anger, worry and frustration. I wanted to scream as I heard two more gunshots follow her down the hall.

I couldn’t stand it. It was one thing for my classmates to die, another thing for my favourite teacher. But Arden was something different. She was one of my best friends, and she is dead. I accepted her fate as I silently cried. Pulling at my hair. There is no way she could have escaped.

9:51 AM

My thoughts turn to Joe as I cry to myself, trying not to be heard. I was stuck, helpless in this classroom, as a mass killer rampaged my school. I could no longer hear any gunshots if they were still going on. The only thing I knew was that my beautiful boyfriend was in the classroom at the end of the hall. I hoped he was in lockdown, but as much as I craned my neck I couldn’t see out of the door far enough to check.

He wasn’t at school this morning and I prayed that he decided to just not show up. I wanted to text him but if he was in his classroom I didn’t want to put him in danger by setting his phone off. If he was in any sort of trouble, he would text me.

It still awed me that I was lucky enough to have him. Not to mention that Joe had been mine for three years. I was even more stunned that he loved me back to be honest, not to mention freshman Caspar. Joe has always been this angelic, stunning, little human and I’m still not sure if I have grown into my long, lanky limbs and massive ears. Yet ‘I love you’ is the first thing I hear from him every time we meet so I must be doing something right.

As soon as the police show up I will find him and hold him and never let him go. He is my beautiful baby boy and my number one priority even if I have to shield him from danger with my own body; I would do anything to keep him safe. If we both can’t make it out of this, I will make it my mission to make sure that he is the one alive. He has so much potential, much more than I do. I would never find someone even close too as good as him.

I’m whipped okay.

We have an amazing day planned for after school, which includes skipping the last two periods. Though after all of this, we might not feel like it. I would be happy if we are just both here to see it happen.

I flinch when out of the corner of my eye I see something move past the window on the other side of the classroom. I turn my whole tear stained face to see

… Kian…

… and JC…

Is that … Ricky?

9:52 AM

They slowly walk past the window. Kian grips onto JC’s shoulder and Ricky scouts the area as they sneak their way past my classroom. They must have gotten up out of their own class and left. The tension probably got too much for them. Maybe they were already out of class when it happened.

Idiots. That’s the only word I could think of to describe them. Sure they were kinda my friends, and I get that they would want to leave, but there is one guy in the hallway who just shot my entire class plus two more, and one guy can’t hold down a whole school right?

Anyway, there are probably at least three more gunmen around ready to shoot; Ricky, JC and Kian are goners.

Like with Arden, I try to signal them. JC points at me through the window and the other two turn to face me. Ricky waves me over but I furiously shake my head.

What! Is he, crazy? I’m not risking my life to try and sneak out. If I could save anyone I would, but it is impossible for me to leave my spot. I try to tell them to leave and get out of sight.

The three boys just stare at me through the window, they shrug at my gestures and smile at me. Kian waves as he puts his hand on Ricky’s back pushing them on. They walk out of the way of the window so I can no longer see them.

I start to panic. Everything is finally catching up to me. The smell, the small cramped position that I am in, the fact that I can’t leave said position. Maybe I can. I have no idea what is happening around me and my phone is over on my desk. I can’t see anyone’s texts or snap chats or Tweets or anything. It all occurs to me that there could be more killers, no police; Maybe Kian, JC and Ricky are outside safe, maybe they are already dead.

The worst part is that I’m stuck alone, with my thoughts. I can escape them just as much as I can escape this room. It’s so quiet that the only thing I can hear is the screams of the past five minutes playing over in my head.

Wait, it was quiet. Actually dead silent.

There hadn’t been a gunshot in a really long time, or at least, not one that I had heard. Did that mean it was safe?

I couldn’t take being there anymore and decided that it would be best to leave, I had missed all of the other opportunities I had been given and this could be my last one. What if he comes back?

I slowly stand, using the wall to help me up. I look at the red handprint that I had left slowly seep into the felt. However, this thing ends, it won’t be happily. So many parents have lost their children; people losing soul mates, siblings, family members, and friends…

I hear one final gunshot and jump in my spot. I freeze.

9:53 AM

I hear a scream. It sounded like the person was screaming out ‘Noooo!’ but kind of like someone’s name.

It also kind of sounded like Will.

No, YES! it was unmistakably the cry of Will Darbyshire. Did he find Arden? They weren’t together but it is so obvious how they feel. He clearly loves her.

I don’t want to think about how he would feel if he found her body. I turn my head back towards the wall where I once sat.

I think about the impact on everyone’s lives that this one man, let alone any other gunman at this school, or anywhere, has done to our community.

Who let him have a gun; WHO JUST LETS ANYONE HAVE A GUN? I slam my fist against the mark I left on the wall in anger.

I’m angry for those who had to die today; their families, and anyone who has to go back to school after this and deal with the memories of what went down on this morning.

All of those students were my friends! They were so talented, they had bright futures. They had so many people who loved them and they themselves loved so many.

I didn’t care anymore, I pulled my hair with both my hands and I let out a frustrated scream and it was almost like one thousand other voices were screaming with me.

I lifted my head from my hands to see that it wasn’t in my head. There really were people screaming with me. A class of students from the end of the hall were rampaging down it, screaming and yelling and avoiding the flailing gunfire of the man on the floor.

I lean out of the door, grabbing onto the frame to watch it. The students burst through the front door of the school to safety; cheering and whooping as they exited the crime scene.

I got swept up in it all and felt a yell strangled in my throat wanting to be let out.

I was about to let it out as the last few members of the class left the building, when the gunman stood up.

9:54 AM

I wasn’t sure if he had seen me but I dived against the door again, this time against the other side, flat against the open door itself.

I watched in horror as the man walked over to two pairs of feet trapped under a bank of lockers that must have been pushed over during the stampede.

No, no, NO! Not more death! We were good, we were safe. More people can’t die today.

I watched as I recognized a turquoise quiff belonging to one of the trapped victims. No, Not Tyler!

I Stood ready to scream. I could create a distraction. The suspense was building, almost at tipping point. I sucked in a breath as a different noise sounded from the end of the hall. The sound of multiple texts on someone’s iPhone rang through the dead silent halls. I breathed heavily as I looked from the lockers to the man to the direction of the noise. It did its job as the man dropped his gun to his side and followed it.

It wasn’t until my eyes looped back around to the noise as well that I noticed the man lift his gun again, to the head of Connor Franta.

I let out an audible whimper as I held my breath. He looked as threatening as a kitten as he kneeled on the floor. Large eyes pleading to the man for mercy. I had held my breath for so long that black spots appeared in my vision, blocking my view as I braced myself.

I shut my eyes as the last gunshot went off.

A body fell to the ground and the clank of the silver on the tiles jolted me fully awake.

Two arms scooped me off the ground and once again the confusion upon me sent the world into slow motion.

I was barely walking for myself as my feet kicked the ground. The police were practically dragging me out of the school.

I turned my head to face the body of the gunman on the floor. Lying in a pool of his own blood.

It was over.

Until the high-pitched squeal of a girl spun the world back to normal, and the worried sprints of Dan, Phil, Tanya and Jim had me break out of the policemen’s grip to follow them.

Part 2: https://teddy-parade.tumblr.com/post/155612175180/seven-minute-siege-pt-215

[peachpety]

Fic authors self rec! When you get this, reply with your favorite five fics that you've written, then pass on to at least five other writers. Let’s spread the self-love 💖

twenty-twenty-one top 5

I've been sitting on this anon ask (as well as same from my sweet friends @fangqueen and @mystickitten42 thank y'all!) for a fair amount of time.

A bit of a block hiatus from writing has settled in...and honestly the time has come for her to go. So I'm clearing out brain cobwebs and dusting off WIPs. This exercise is timely in that it has reminded me that I love writing these boys. And that I love the things I've written. And so.

I've melded this ask with a related tag from @sugareey-makes-stuff (mwah, lovely!) and narrowed my top 5 to 2021 postings.

My 2020 top 5 can be found here.

My 2021 short list! Excerpts and personal thoughts below the cut! xoxo peach 🍑

🍑 In a Jam draco x harry || 2.6k || T || Getting Together Berry Picking

🍑 Come as You Are draco x harry || 3.8k || E || High School Non-Magical AU

🍑 the weed which strings the hangman's bag draco x harry || 1k || M || Auror AU Angst-lite

🍑 It's Called Fashion, Potter draco x harry || 2k || E || Getting Together Clothed Sex

🍑 Like You a Latte draco x harry || 1.6k || M || Coffee Shop Non-Magical AU Meet Cute

BONUS! 🍑 A Weasel in the Hamptons draco x ron || 15.4k || E || Getting Together in the Hamptons

🍑 In a Jam draco x harry || 2.6k || T || Getting Together Berry Picking

[Harry] focuses on plucking fruit, shoving his hands deeper into the brambles, letting the thorns prick him back to his senses. Even in his limited experience, he recognizes the fragility of this thing between them, like autumn fruit, heavy with promise, yet easily bruised.

This fic is the last thing I've posted(!) and my favorite, in no small part, because of Molly Weasley and her heirloom berry buckets. Drarry UST is strong, just like I like it.

🍑 Come as You Are draco x harry || 3.8k || E || High School Non-Magical AU

“Ok, well!” Ron claps his hands. “On that note, I gotta run. If I’m tardy again, McGonagall will skin me alive and make a football from my freckled hide. I’ll leave you”—he points at Draco—“in our star quarterback’s capable and rather large hands.” He grabs Harry’s wrist and waves his arm about. “Span of ten inches. Good for palming footballs… and other things.” He winks and departs, answering his ringing phone. “Hi babe! I’m walking in the doors right now…”

This fic was, hands-down, the most fun to craft. Ron Weasley, the social media edits, and the letterman jacket all conspire to make this fic my absolute GOAT to date. Includes delicious art (and gif!) by @fictional.

🍑 the weed which strings the hangman's bag draco x harry || 1k || M || Getting Together Angst-lite

Smoke curls from the tip of Malfoy’s cigarette, an ephemeral rope cast asunder by the wind, as murky as the puddles peppering the cobblestones between them. Slick film coats the water’s grey surface, shiny with misshapen rainbows.

Like Malfoy’s eyes, Harry thinks madly. Alive, not dead. Alive, not dead.

A (sleeper) divergence! But a favorite. The most drarry angst(lite) I've written. Also the most purple I've slanted. I vortexed down some obscure rabbit holes for inspiration on this one...and the tone of this piece was the better for it.

🍑 It's Called Fashion, Potter draco x harry || 2k || E || Getting Together Clothed Sex

Pansy kicks Draco with the pointy toe of her Louboutin. “Pay attention to my plight, for fuck's sake,” she whines. “My eye candy has buggered off.”

“I’ve no idea what you mean.” A shift on the arm of the chair and a nonchalant slouch against the chair back allows Draco to elongate his leg. Darkening green eyes follow the pinstripes lining his trousers from his ankle to hip. Draco’s magic purrs, gratified.

“Look at you,” Pansy says. “Preening like a bloody peacock. When will the eye fucking progress to actual fucking?” She stabs her straw at a cherry swimming at the bottom of her drink. “I’m already bored.”

Some of the best banter I've written, imo, damn. Also, dual POV mirrored at the beginning of each POV section...of which I am proud. Also also, fashionista!Draco, my beloved. Includes gorgeous art by @pauleonotis

🍑 Like You a Latte draco x harry || 1.6k || M || Coffee Shop Non Magical AU Meet Cute

Harry looks out at the crowded room. A platinum blond bloke slouching mid-queue snags Harry’s gaze.

And it’s A Moment… One of those stupidly cliché tunnel-vision moments—where the Earth slows its rotation, and flowers bloom, and kittens frolic, and the sun shines through parting clouds to spotlight as if touched by angelic grace, the most beautiful individual Harry’s ever seen.

“It’s him,” Harry breathes.

My first introduction to the glory of social media edits, and to the brilliance that is @hogwartsfirebolt (mwah, sweet for the collab!) I love an ensemble cast and Weasley bros abound here.

BONUS!!

🍑 A Weasel in the Hamptons draco x ron || 15.4k || E || Getting Together in the Hamptons

A sleek red convertible, top down, rolls to a stop in front of them. Draco hands back the champagne. Ron fills his mouth as he watches the attendant hop out, collect Draco’s belongings, and toss them into the back seat. Draco tips the bloke smoothly and slides easily into the driver’s seat.

The alcohol burns Ron’s throat as he swallows too hard and wipes a drip off his cheek with the back of his hand. He’s used to Muggle contraptions, having traveled without magic all these years, but seeing Malfoy—the purest of purebloods—seated confidently behind the driver’s wheel of a car is messing with his mind. It’s incongruous and unfathomable.

And sexy as bloody hell.

“Get in,” Malfoy commands. He smirks. “That is if you’re willing to go off-script.”

Listen. I adore this pairing. I loved writing this...even if it pushed me out of my short-fic writing comfort zone (see my faves above, all under 4k). Can things be improved? Absolutely. But. This fic has shown me that long(er) fic is within reach. I've got Ideas. Here's hoping!

***I'm sure everyone has done this already, but tagging*** @thusspoketrish @calypsotempete @vukovich @wheezykat @thistlecatfics @rockingrobin69 @pennygalleon @amorsindolor