#my window blinds have been broken for years and the only way i can get them to stay up is with some clothes pegs (?)

[jackredfieldwasmyjacob]

my room is a mess right now

[astridthevalkyrie]

oh my god, bakugo's kind of my friend! | k. bakugo x reader

----> summary: You'd never dare tell anyone that he was your friend. You'd never be so bold. Katsuki agrees. He's definitely not your friend.

----> warnings: quirkless university au, video game violence, fluff n feelings

----> a/n: title blatantly stolen from the office—"oh my god, dwight's kind of my friend!"

----> word count: 2k

God, no, you’re not friends with Katsuki Bakugo.

No one is.

Yeah, okay, that’s not totally true. He’s sort of friends with Ochako, that’s how you met him. He’s actually fairly close to Izuku and Eijiro, his roommates. He tolerates Shoto, might even begrudgingly respect him. And he’s got some weird mutual-depression pact going on with Kyoka. 

But you’re not any of them. And you vehemently deny it when people ask, lest he, heaven forbid, think you’re going around telling people he likes you. You saw what happened to Neito last year when he, just once, said something about his friend Katsuki. You’re pretty sure it was the reason behind his switching majors, too, just to avoid being in the same classes with the terrifying blonde.

Sure, you’re in his apartment. Neito’s never stepped foot in here (aside from The Incident). And you’re well acquainted with the people he does clearly consider not-enemies. Earlier today, you and Momo had been out getting chips and soda for tonight. Just half an hour ago, you’d been playing blind karaoke with Eijiro, Izuku, and Ochako on Kyoka’s old laptop and mic that somehow both still had really good audio quality. Not to mention, you and Mina have had at least one class together every semester since you both started—she always races to slide into the chair next to you on every first day.

And you’re currently sitting on Katsuki’s couch, two feet away from Katsuki, playing a battle royale on Katsuki’s console.

“Behind the building,” he mutters, and you hum in acknowledgement, running to the spot he generously marked on the map.

It started a long while back. You and Denki had been playing some shitty racing game, and you’d very easily kicked his ass, leaving him groaning and flopping back onto Kyoka’s lap, where she offered no pity, rolling his head off with a light shove. As you were laughing at the display, Katsuki had taken Denki’s place on the floor, and all but demanded you pick up the controller once more.

(You’d won again. Terrified, you simply claimed that your controller must be broken before racing out of the room.

Imagine your surprise when, the next time you visited, he’d barked at you to assist him with a multiplayer, ordering a pouty Denki off the couch.)

You like playing, and you don’t have a console with as much storage back home, and you’re too broke to be buying multiple games anyways, so you don’t mind taking advantage of Katsuki’s appreciation for your skill. It’s usually a nice way to end the night, whether you and Ochako end up leaving or if you fall asleep right there on the couch.

Shivering, you bring your feet under the wool blanket you’d brought with you. You’re the only one who finds the apartment freezing. Everyone else typically sheds their extra layers, while you once hunted down Eijiro’s sock drawer to steal a pair of He-Man stockings for the night. 

“Up in the window,” you warn, at the same time he says, “Oi.”

Both of you meet each other’s gaze for a second in bewilderment, before rapidly turning your attention back to the TV. He dodges the shot from the window, and then continues.

“You been tellin’ people I hate you?”

“What?” Your hands almost drop the controller, but you regain control just quick enough to roll out of the way of a grenade. “No.”

“Kirishima said Tetsutetsu told him that Kendo told him that Tokage told her that you told her I hated you.”

If you weren’t nervous, you’d tell Katsuki you were surprised he even knew all those names. “I didn’t say that. I just said we weren’t friends.”

There’s an awfully long pause. You can still hear the sounds from the game, and the chatter of everyone else in the apartment—Hanta’s trying to rap?—but not a word from your couch partner. If it weren’t for the screen in front of you, you’d be nervously biting your nails or just full on escaping, honestly. Not that you’re scared of Katsuki, at least not more than one should be, but…

Well, the truth is you did see him as a friend. Or, screw it, as more than that, if those little arrhythmias you observed in yourself every time he would raise his hand in greeting when he passed you on campus were any indication. And you know it’s going to hurt—it already does—to hear him confirm the same thing that you told everyone when they asked. That you meant very little to him, in the long term.

“We’re not friends, huh?” he finally says, as more of an inquiry than you’d expected it to sound.

Your mouth feels dry, but you don’t stop staring straight ahead, spamming X to whack someone over the head with a bat. “Um. Are we?”

“Isn’t this your favorite game?” he shoots back, as though that answers your question.

“Yes? So?”

Another pause. You climb up to the roof of some building and emote pointlessly before hopping down and ducking behind a bush to heal. Katsuki lets out a mix of a sigh and a grunt, dashing across an abandoned minefield. 

“So,” he snarks, “I only bought it after you told me it was your favorite.”

Faintly, you feel the tips of your ears grow hot. Is that true? That can’t be true, can it? The timing does line up. You think it was back in the first week of October that you mentioned it, and then by Halloween you’d already played several rounds. Between that and losing to Momo in several games of pool, finals month had flown by.

But…

“I didn’t even tell you that.” Your voice comes out meek, and even though you’re in a safe space now, you’re still too nervous to turn your head and look at him. “I was talking to Shoto.” You’d even been half sure that Shoto wasn’t really registering what you were saying, with Ochako an inch away from him shrieking starships were meant to fly-y-y-y-y directly into his ear.

Katsuki grunts. “I was there, wasn’t I?”

If you wrack your memory, you can sort of remember it. He was…on Ochako’s other side? When she got drunk, she usually wanted to whack something, and Katsuki’s arm had been her victim that day, her palm smacking against his elbow at every other sung word.

The heat from your ears travels down to your neck. Over the singing and over everyone else’s conversations, was he paying attention to…you?

“I appreciate it,” you squeak quickly, wincing when you’re shot in the leg, “I mean, that was nice. Thank you. I just—I didn’t think you wanted me telling people we were friends, after what happened to—”

“If you bring up Monoma, I’ll take away your blanket,” he threatens; it makes you chuckle weakly. “You’re not that shithead. He pisses me off. You’re…you know.” You don’t know, actually. “You.”

Yeah, you’re you. You play games with him. You know his friends. You’re the only one who can try to outdance Eijiro to Rasputin in Just Dance. What does any of that have to do with…

“Do you think I ever fuckin’ carried that dick’s bag to class?”

“I don’t—”

“Do you think I had his stupid long ice cream order memorized? Pistachios, on the sides only,” he mimics, and you huff in an affronted sort of way, defensive of your topping choices. “Telling people to shut up so that I could hear what he was saying? Turning up the heat and burning up everyone in the apartment just to keep him warm? Was I inviting him to my place every two weeks just to fuckin’ watch him play Kingdom Hearts 3?”

And so, you finally look to the side. Katsuki’s cheeks are red, and his gaze is still on the television. His thumbs move furiously against the controller, and you have to bite your lip to prevent a quiet you’re really cute, you know that? from carelessly slipping from your mouth.

“But, to be fair,” you attempt, still confused, “you don’t exactly do all of that for your other friends either, Katsuki.”

At your words, he slouches into his seat more, the creases on his forehead deepening as an uncharacteristic frown—a frown, not a scowl—forms on his face. One would think you’d just told him you hated his guts. 

“Yeah.“ His glare flickers over to you for a moment. “Exactly.”

There’s a blast from the TV and a realization that hits you at the same time. 

You’re not his friend. He doesn’t see you as a friend.

The heat finally reaches your cheeks, and your mouth falls open slightly. 

Then, realizing something else, your head immediately snaps back to the screen to see that blast sound had actually been your character getting blown up. 

Your mouth falls open. You’d looked away for a few seconds at best. Which aces are in the lobby tonight?

“I lost,” you tell him, crestfallen. 

Katsuki snorts. “I didn’t.”

He keeps playing, and your cheeks don’t take any time to cool down. Instead, you stare at him while he’s distracted trying to escape the same vicious bastards who hunted you down, and you note that his face doesn’t look any less heated either. For once, it’s clearly not because he’s just getting into the game.

You wonder if that was ever the case at all, or if he just felt the same striking little jolt you did everytime you two accidentally bumped into each other while playing on this exact couch.

“I think I’m done for tonight.” The announcement comes out a bit louder than you expected. “I’ll probably head back.”

“I don’t think so.” Without breaking his eyes away from the TV, he nudges his head in the direction of the bedrooms. “Uraraka’s dead on her feet, and you’re not walkin’ back alone.”

Has he always purposely caused the fluttering in your chest? “Okay, well. Izuku’s still awake, I’ll just take his bed for now.”

Katsuki’s tongue clicks in a fuck-around-and-find-out kind of way. “Alright. Put the controller back before you go.”

“Fine. Where’s the, uh…” You turn your head this way and that, looking for the little box that they all go in.

“On my right,” he offers casually, not a hint on his face that he essentially just confessed to you.

Feeling a little spiteful, you reach to the side, blanket and all, instead of just standing up and going behind the couch like you would any other day. Purposefully blocking his view of the screen as you reach over him to toss the controller into the box, you smirk slightly when another blast signals that he’s died as well.

Only to yelp when a firm arm shoves you down against his chest.

“Would you look at that,” he murmurs, red eyes glittering in amusement as he watches you struggle on his lap, “I lost too.”

Tokage is going to hear a very different story tomorrow. “And how’s that my problem?”

His grip tightens, fingers gently digging into the thick cloth of the blanket that’s draped over you. “I wanna play again. And I’m cold.”

There’s a small, dumb grin on his face that you’d consider kissing off if it wasn’t mirrored by an equally dumb one of yours. You’re pretty sure Katsuki’s never ever complained about the cold in his apartment. But then, he’s never complained about the heat either. If he wants to be a sauna under you, who are you to deny him? Besides, you’re feeling cold too, you might as well just take advantage of the free insulation.

From the table, in the midst of pouring something that looks like cookie batter into a bowl, Kyoka raises her brow at the sight of you, then pats Tenya’s arm and points. 

He mouths something like, “Finally.”

Face burning once more, you bury your face in Katsuki’s neck, and relax in his hold while he presses X to replay.

[litchifaerie]

Guilty as Sin [Aemond Targaryen]

pairing: aemond targaryen x niece!reader (unspecified dad)

warnings: fluff, very little angst, not Daemon's daughter but she has silver hair, ooc!aemond (?), "i burn for you" typa confession. niece!reader strikes again.

word count: 3.3k

After the incident of Driftmark, it was a known fact that the family of the dragon has now broken into two factions, namely: The Hightower Greens and The Targaryen Blacks. Young Prince Lucerys had somehow managed to blind his uncle, Prince Aemond, in an act of what rumours say to be “self defence”. The family damaged beyond repair went on to live separately, no longer finding joy in maintaining the facade of a “happy joint family” to appease their king. Now years later, the question of inheritance of Driftmark is raised. Lord Corlys Velaryon is feared to be nearing his death and thus Vaemond Velaryon has raised a petition for himself to be declared the heir instead of its true heir, Lucerys Velaryon.

When the Blacks made their home in Dragonstone it took them quite a while to settle in with its rough seas and jagged cliffs. In a few months everyone seemed to settle in well. Everyone except for Rhaenyra’s eldest child, her only daughter, you. Back at King’s Landing you loved the court. You loved meeting the ambassadors of kingdoms you had read about in books with Aemond. You loved sneaking around the castle at midnight with Aemond. Your bare feet hurriedly rushing over the cold of the stone floors in search of some leftover lemon cakes in the kitchens. You loved sewing with Helaena and learning the names of her friendly little creatures. You and Aemond were perhaps the only companions she had growing up.

Yes, yes, you missed Aemond even more so. And now six years later, here you are, sitting in the carriage with your mother and step-father awaiting to reach the Red Keep soon. You’re busy gazing out the windows, looking at how much King’s Landing has changed. I wonder if that jeweller still has a shop in the city market. Lost in your thoughts you jump a little when you hear your mother speak. “Do keep an eye on your brothers there. Daemon and I have some matters to attend with the King the moment we reach. I do not want those two to pick a fight with your uncles.” Rhaenyra speaks calmly.

You nod with a polite “Of course mother”. And with a moment of hesitation, you ask “Is it alright if I invite Helaena for an afternoon tea, perhaps even a play date for her twins and little Viserys and Aegon? Please allow it mother! It has been ages since I last saw her! I wish to see my baby cousins and catch up with my dear aunt…” Rhaenyra can never say no to your pleading eyes. She only chuckles “yes my dear you may”.

It wasn’t a long while before the carriage came to a stop. A knight comes to open the door for you. “No one to greet us hmm” murmurs Daemon. His ability to remain stoic sometimes makes him seem invisible even in close proximity. He steps out first, helping you and your mother down next. Jace and Luce come rushing begging to go to the training grounds. “Boys”, you call out, “Mother and Father have some matter to attend to. Now if we may, lets see how the knights here train at King’s Landing.” With that you just turn around and they follow you like ducklings, ever the obedient little brothers.

You make your way to the training yard, looking around and seeing specks of your past. It all seemed like a far away dream now. How happily the boys played fight together, with you dabbling in some swordplay at times. Distant shouts of cheers catch your attention and you look their way. “Seems like there’s a fight going on” Jace remarks. And Luce replies energetically “Lets go see how the knights fare then” and drags you both towards the crowd.

A clash of swords and flurry of movements of men later you are able to catch a glimpse of long silver hair. A Targaryen. Long hair and a fine swordsman? Can’t be Aegon. That leaves the 2 others. And as you get closer you recognise his silhouette. It took you a little time but you can spot him anywhere still. It’s not your eyes that tell you of his identity but your heart. Its him. Yes, it is. Its Aemond.

“Well done my prince. In no time will you be participating in Tourneys.” Says the knight, who if your memory serves right must be Ser Criston Cole. “I don’t give a shit about tourneys” Aemond replies trying to gather himself after that tiring display of amazing swordsmanship. And then he spots you. At first Aemond believed it to be untrue. His mind had played many such games with him through the period of your absence. The Gods were cruel to not only rob him of his eye but also his dearest friend the same night. Maybe he stared at you a moment too long because that was enough for Jace to step in front of you and shield you from his uncle's view. At that Aemond seems to snap back to reality. “Nephews, come to train? Shall we see who has turned into a better swordsman these past 6 years.” He clearly is still looking to pick fights. You put your hand on Jace’s shoulder “Do not engage he just wants to rile you up”.

The crowd whispers amongst itself. Do you see that? The sons of the Queen and Princess do not get along. Are the whispers true then- You think you need to squash these whisperings now by a show of goodwill. You walk towards Aemond in the “dainty” manner a proper Lady should approach a Lord. “Uncle” you come to a halt just a bit away from Aemond, a few inches closer than it is deemed appropriate. “How have you been? I see the years have been kind to you. The tales of your growing talent of sparring has reached Dragonstone. And I am happy to say those words do no justice to your skill. You’re much better than what they lead us to believe.” Flattery. Heaps of it. So what if it’s a little backhanded. I need to patch things up even if it’s a little. “Dear niece” Aemond raises your hand to place a kiss on your knuckles “Ever the beauty. That must mean the tales of Lords and Knights fighting over a chance to court you must be true then?” and all you can do is chuckle. Oh so he will play this game then. “You flatter me too much my prince. I was wondering if you and Princess Helaena would have your afternoon tea with me. I’ve missed you incredibly. And I just can’t wait to meet little Jaehaera and Jaehaerys”

Ser Cole places his hand on the prince’s arm, “Perhaps some other day Princess. Prince Aemond has some mat-”. “Yes I will” Aemond butts in before Cole can finish. “Very well then” you fold your hands together. “I shall take my leave now. The journey here was rather long and tiring”. You look behind you to see the astonished faces of your brothers. You know what thy must be thinking. What the fuck is going on in her head? “Come Jace. Come Luce. Let us go freshen up. Mother is waiting for us” You wait for your brothers to take one of your arms each. And you leave just like that. Maintaining eye contact with Aemond for as long as it was societally acceptable of you to look his way without it spurring rumours.

Are her hips swaying? Is what Aemond notices as he watches you leave. With a smirk on his face his last thought is: You’re home now zaldrītsos.

You walk with your brothers to your room, both of them still silent, a little surprised at your actions that’s all. You’re at your door when you turn around “Brothers if you may. Please go to your respective rooms and tell your servants how you’ll like your rooms arranged. The long jouney has taken a toll on me and I wish to be alone.” They know that tone. They know what you say is less of a suggestion and is most definitely a command. And they know better than to cross you when you’re tired. Being short tempered is something you have learned from Daemon while growing up. He truly was your father in every way imaginable except biologically.

Once in the comforts of your room you let a deep beath out. And there it is on your bed. You hoped it would be. The letter with the blue wax seal on it. A sapphire blue.

“Welcome back dear niece.

 The crown jewel has finally returned to the court.

 See you in the evening.”

                              ~ A. T.

It’s evening now and in another part of the Keep, Aemond seems to overhear a very important conversation on his way to his sister. One about the matter of your betrothal. “Those Hightower cunts” Daemon seethes openly. Mother? Aemond hides behind a pillar in the seemingly deserted corridor while he heard his uncle openly badmouth his “kin” without any care of who might hear. The doors to the chamber were left ajar. “When you suggested y/n be betrothed to Aegon and Jace to Helaena. She refused the very moment it was suggested. Appalled that such a proposal can even be made. And now when we are here to have the king’s blessing to betroth Jace to y/n, the so called Hand has already made a suggestion for a match between that one eyed boy knight and our daughter!” Rhaenyra is just silent. Daemon seethes in his anger. But all Aemond focuses on is that he could have your hand if his mother finds a way. And also, a little angry that Jacaerys Velaryon, rather Strong, might covet what’s his.

Fuelled by what he refuses to call jealousy, the prince makes his way through the Keep. With only one destination in mind, he storms through the corridors paying no mind to the strange looks he receives. And its as if he is 10 again, knocking at the doors of his beloved friend. But now he is a man of 19, and she is more than his friend. She is his destiny and he will have her.

You’re busy taking your heavy necklace off, opting to wear long delicate crystal earring instead which matches the long flowy gown you changed into for the tea when you notice the knocks. Thinking its your ladies-in-waiting you yell out a “Come in.” Setting the necklace on top of the dresser, you’re surprised to find Aemond’s reflection staring at you through the mirror. “My prince” you turn to face him, still sitting at your vanity, “Aren’t you here a little early for the tea?”

“Hmm…” Aemond just hums in reply and sits on the settee nearby, “I’ve come to know of an interesting proposition regarding you my niece”. That was enough to have your attention, “And what that might be Aemond?” you cock an eyebrow at him. “You’re going to be betrothed by the time your stay here ends”. You’re a little stunned but you expected this coming. Your mother has given you the liberty to choose who you might marry but you won’t do so at the expense of her political foothold. Marriage cannot always be for love and you will follow your duty like the honorable Princess of the realm you are if that is what’s required of you. “Yes, I’m aware” you tell him plainly. “I think they have Jacaerys in mind.”

“And you have no issue regarding it” Aemond asks, finding himself to be a little unnerved at your calm demeanour. “No issue whatsoever?” And you can’t help but sigh “It is what is expected of me uncle. Targaryens are known to marry their siblings. Look at yours. I always knew that there might be a possibility of me marrying Jacaerys. I am my mother’s firstborn. Her heir. But I am not a son. She only seeks to squash any problem that might raise for when I ascend the throne by marrying me to her firstborn son.”

“He’s not worthy of you. None of those plain-featured boys. You’re more valyrian than they are with your silver hair.” Aemond speaks out. “If I were you, I would watch my tongue Aemond. Don’t want you to lose your other eye due to your idiocy.” You say casually while combing through your hair.

Aemond was a little sick of your nonchalant attitude. How can you agree to this match? Why do you seem so fine? Why are you willing to go through with this? All he can do is sit in silence, his eye refusing to watch your figure, his ego stopping him from expressing what he wants. But you know what he wants, and you want him to say it out loud.

You get up from the vanity, your silver hair in loose waves, the setting sun casting an ethereal glow around you. You look like the very picture of an angel to Aemond with a halo behind you. And suddenly all he can see is you, all he can breathe is you. You’re close, too close to him, his knees are touching your leg as you stand in front of him. The door to your room is only closed shut and not locked. One can just simply walk in and catch you.

Your fingers ghost over his cheek, trailing up to his eyepatch. “Does it hurt now?” he hears you say. There is no pity on your face, just curiosity. And your touch is so delicate, so soothing. “Not as much. Sometimes when I have worked myself too hard a sharp sensation shoots up but then subsides in a while”. And now its your turn to hum. Bringing your other hand to his other cheek you gently cup his face. And Aemond’s lone eye meets yours.

His eye seems so vacant. But if I look hard enough, I can catch a glimpse of the young boy who chased me through the gardens. “Can I see it. Your eye?” you rub your thumb against his cheek. Affection. Aemond bring his hand up to reach for yours, the one on the side of the maimed eye. “It is ugly. It might frighten a lady.” He hesitates. She will take one look at me in my hideous glory and never look my way again.

“Not to me. Especially when its you.” That sentence holds a lot more meaning and truth than what one might think and you only hope Aemond understands. And Aemond does what you ask of him. He gently removes his eyepatch waiting for you to let out a gasp. He wants to close his eyes for your inevitable disgusted expression but he cannot look away from you. He looks at every muscle you move on your face but he doesn’t see a grimace, instead could it be, is it awe?

A soft smile graces your face, wildly different from what he anticipated it to be. “The sapphire compliments your features nicely. I hope the gem isn’t uncomfortable?” He is dumbstruck for a minute. “No, it doesn’t, I always wanted to thank you in person for this gift.” When his eye healed, Aemond was surprised to find the city’s most famous jeweller with a chest full of his best gems waiting for him in his mother’s parlour. A reparation I suppose, the queen had said, the Velaryon girl wrote this letter saying how “sorry" she was for her brother’s action and expresses her regret for not being able to defend you against her brother. He wanted you to be there with him when he woke the next day, he remembered your crying face when the master said Aemond’s maimed eye can’t be repaired. It’s worth it y/n. I lost an eye but gained the biggest dragon that there is.

You resume rubbing your thumb gently over his scar and that’s what brings him back. “No man, no matter how noble he is, deserves you”. “Then who does my prince? Pray tell”, you say. You know his answer. Just say it Aemond. I beg you. “I have a duty to the crown Aemond”, dropping your hands from his face, you walk away from him. “And I will do it, even if I don’t wish to.”

Aemond was furious “How can you be so blind? Do you not see my pain?”. Your back was turned to him and you closed your eyes in frustration. You turn to look at him, with angry tears in your eyes, “I am tired of waiting for you!” you yell, “These past years have been agonising. It hurt not to be around you. But those letters kept me going. Our secret exchanges were what I kept looking forward to every week.” Aemond’s chest is just heaving. “And just when I thought that there’s a sliver of chance you feel the same-”

“I do.” Aemond interrupts you. He reaches forward to hold you but you back away. “Then why Aemond” there’s a slight tremble in your voice. “Thousands of lords and knights came to have my hand. And I rejected every single of them, hoping that you will present yourself in front of my parents and ask for me. You claim to have affection for me but I don’t see it.” You cut him off before he has a chance to explain.

“I’ll show my love for you” is all the silver haired prince says before tugging you to him harshly and planting his lips on yours. Its wild, full of passion and fury. The kiss seems to ignite something in you. Both your inner dragons coming to life and breathing out fire. He’s burning you with the force of the emotions the kiss conveys.

Although you feel breathless you still craved more of him. Your hand went at the base of his neck, tangling at his roots. You drag him even close if that’s possible. Aemond’s one hand is around your throat, controlling your movement, dominating you completely. His other strongly grips your waist keeping you in place. Your lips move together in perfect synchronisation although there seems to be a bite here and there.

The Targaryens are only gods because of their dragons. Right now, right here, were two young lord and lady lost in each other and were in dire need of air yet unwilling to be apart, fearing what comes next. You’re the first to break the kiss. The evidence of your passion is seen on Aemond’s swollen red wet lips and messy hair and you can only imagine yours to look the same.

Aemond leans his head against yours, your foreheads touching. His eyes are closed in pleasure and a rare smile graces his leeps but all you can do is admire him through your eyelashes. “Make me your wife” you call out softly. “Ask my mother for my hand. I do not wish to marry Jacaerys…he is too much of a brother. It is you I want. I’ll fight for you if needed be” Aemond opens his eyes at that. “Silly girl”, he says, “The Queen has asked the King for our match to be made.” Your brows furrow in confusion, “My mother agrees?” Aemond brings a hand to caress your face, “I think she does. Daemon on the other…” Even you become anxious at that statement. “My uncle is a challenge I welcome” he continues, “Nothing can keep me away from you. I’ve waited years for this, I can’t let go of you now.”

You can’t help but smile. You loved Aemond but marrying him meant going against what your mother had taught you. Knowing the distaste Daemon held for the members of green party, and thinking of your brothers’ action against Aemond made you feel immensely guilty. But you waited all these years, you were the exceptional daughter all this while, ever obedient, ever graceful. Never a hair out of place. Always the perfect princess. And if Aemond is the treason you commit against your family, then you will happily be guilty as sin.

[look-at-the-soul]

HIII ANGEL <3 can I request 'Hometown Glory' for the Adele music thing? I love that song so much overall so no specific lyric or anything for reference 🙈

Hello my darling! How have you been? 🥰 thank you so much for sending in this song as request!! As I started playing it over and over, I was playing different scenarios of how to make Tommy go back to his hometown. ✨

⚠️ There’s a bit angst but comfort after it

Lyrics and flashback in italics 😊 I hope you guys like this! Would love to hear your thoughts about it 💕

Song: Hometown Glory by Adele

Hometown Glory

Tommy sighed loudly as they entered the Birmingham territory, he got tense immediately, his energy changed and the atmosphere as well.

Charlie was sleeping in the back of the car, he saw his son through the rear-view mirror.

I've been walking in the same way as I did

Missing out the cracks in the pavement

It had been a while since he came back, over the years he changed, both mentally and physically. Unlike him, everything in Birmingham was the same, but worse; the smoke irritated his eyes, he found more factories than he could remember, people on the streets, smoke clouding around.

He took a turn and found the old church where his mother would take them every Sunday, he hadn’t stepped in one in ages. In the corner he found the old building where he and his brothers used to go to school when they were little, it was now abandoned and falling into pieces, he saw broken windows and the door was replaced by blocks.

"Is there anything I can do for you dear?

Is there anyone I could call?"

"No and thank you, please Madam

I ain't lost, just wandering"

No matter how hard these people worked, they’d never be able to get out of Small Heath, they could only hope to repeat the same story of their parents. They were still digging, but instead of getting out of the hole, they were moving deeper and deeper.

Tommy looked to the side, finding the pub where his Dad used to send him and Ada to get a bucket of beer for him, he even remembered the one time when he and his sister decided to bet who could run faster and the spilled almost half of the bucket, when they got home his father got pissed for the missing booze and started raising his voice, then Tommy saw him taking of his belt. It was only natural to ask Ada to run and hide while he took the beating for her.

As the memories were too vivid for his own liking, Tommy had to shake his head to them brush away.

Somehow his heart felt at ease with the familiarity as he stopped his vehicle outside the Watery Lane house, the place held so many good moments.

'Round my hometown

Memories are fresh

Taking Charlie’s sleepy body into his arms, Tommy had to hold his breath as he looked in the small space between two houses in the other side of the street.

Flashback

“Tommy!” Y/N squealed as his hands pulled her body towards his. “Someone might see us!”

Y/N tried to push him away, but his hands were resting firmly on her waist.

He laughed and the sound echoed in the small corridor while her palms attempted to stop him, but there was no use because he had other intentions.

Leaning towards her face, Tommy captured her lips in a soft kiss.

Y/N gave in, not only to his kiss but her hands gave up and instead of trying to push him away, she moved them to the back of Tommy’s head.

Taking a few blind steps, and Tommy had her pressed between the wall and his body.

“Let them see.” He replied after pulling apart to have some air.

He always waited for her there, he knew the exact time where she would go out to buy some bread for dinner and they’d sneak around before it was time to walk her home.

End of flashback.

'Round my hometown

Ooh the people I've met

Are the wonders of my world

Tommy felt the heartache was unbearable, but as Charlie stirred in his arms, he hurried to open the door to the house where he was once happy.

Shifting his son’s weight to one arm, he carried his kid upstairs, into his old bedroom, the same bed where he and Y/N would lie together to watch the stars and the moon. Memories of the two of them making love right there, burning his skin.

Tucking Charlie in, he stared at his son for a few seconds, before turning around to walk out of his room.

“Mama?” Charlie called half sleep.

Charlie’s voice made him stop on his tracks abruptly. His son had only started calling Y/N Mama.

“She will be back very soon, sleep well my boy.” Tommy lied and his eyes filled with tears.

Charlie had already lost Grace, his Mum. He couldn’t let him lose Y/N too, she was now his Mama, the woman who tucked him in and read him bedtime stories, the one who kissed him better.

Exhausted, Tommy flopped on the couch, he was quiet but his mind was already working at speed to find a way to get Y/N back.

His enemies finally found a way to make him surrender, by taking Y/N he no longer cared about any business, deal or wealth. For the very first time he was powerless, he wasn’t ahead of everyone else like he used to, he didn’t see that coming.

I like it in the city when the air is so thick and opaque

Because one morning she was kissing him say goodbye by the door, talking about going out for lunch together since she would be in the city visiting the orphanage and the next thing he knew is that she never showed up to have lunch, she was barely ten minutes late and Tommy knew something was wrong, she was never late.

As if she knew someone would take her, she left Charlie at home that day since he was sleeping. He wouldn’t be able to keep going if they took Charlie too.

Staring into the flames he made a silent promise; he wouldn’t stop looking for Y/N. He would give anything those bastards wanted, anything to get her back.

***

Looking at her nephew, Polly rubbed her forehead. Dark circles under his eyes, lines of worry decorating his features.

Just like she did for her nephews and niece all those years ago, now she stepped in again to take care of Charlie, she had help him have a bath that morning, get him dressed and have breakfast, all while Tommy was still waiting for a phone call.

As she was wiping her hands with a small cloth, she heard the unmistakable sounds Charlie was making from the living room. The image broke her heart; Charlie was playing on the floor with a horse made out of wood and he was holding a small photograph of Y/N, making voices as if she was riding his horse, but what really hit her like a bucket of cold water, was Tommy’s lost stare, his eyes fixed on his son and the photograph, his cigarette hanging from his lips, still unlit.

She quickly moved with the lighter in her hand and the movement made Tommy snap out.

“Jimmy McCavern called.” Tommy stated without an ounce of emotion.

“Charlie? Sweetheart go and find my shawl, it’s by the window in my old room.” She ushered the kid out of the living room, to then look back at her nephew. “So? What happened?”

“They want the racing licenses, the exportation permit, two pubs and Arrow House.”

“What?”

“It’s the Billy boys Pol, they want everything or nothing at all.”

“But..” She tried to reason with him.

“They planted explosives in my property, they almost killed my boy!” Tommy exploded, his heart was beating like a drum, hammering his ribs, his head. “I’m not going to risk Y/N, I’m giving them what they want.” He explained with fear in his voice and eyes.

Then before Polly could do or say anything else, he stormed out of the room.

“Is my Dad mad at me, aunt Pol?” Charlie looked from the floor to her with sadness.

“Oh no my sweet boy, no…” she tried to stop the tears forming in her eyes as she hugged Charlie, “he’s worried about Mama, that’s all, he sent a letter and she hasn’t written back,”

“But she’s alright, she’s shopping.” He explained sure of himself.

“That’s right, but you know Dad right? He worries too much.” Bitting the inside of her cheek, she extended her hand to Charlie. “How about you help me bake a pie?”

Charlie nodded and rushed to the kitchen, allowing Polly to take a deep breath, she wasn’t sure how long they could keep lying to Charlie and if Y/N would come back from the Billy boys on one piece.

I like it in the city when two worlds collide

You get the people and the government

Everybody taking different sides

Tommy slammed the door, making Lizzie jump in the process.

“Do you have the papers I asked you?”

Lizzie looked away.

“Don’t make me repeat myself.” He was about to lose his patience.

“Tommy…”

“Lizzie give me the fucking papers!”

When she didn’t move, Tommy walked around her desk, took the keys from her skirt and after fumbling with the keys for several seconds, he finally opened the drawer. Rushing towards his office, he took the pen and signed the papers.

As he was about to go out, the ringing of his phone made him stop on his tracks.

“How’s the paperwork going Mr. Shelby?” Jimmy asked.

“I need to talk to Mrs. Shelby first.”

Jimmy groaned. “Fine, you can say hi to the wifey.”

The next thing Tommy heard was Y/N gasping and letting out a sound of pain.

“Y/N!”

“Tom… don’t believe anythi-”

“That’s enough bitch, now…” Jimmy tore off the phone from her ear and threw her to the floor.

“Don’t you dare to hurt her, prick!” Tommy yelled, feeling frustrated and useless.

“Oh, what are you gonna do about it tinker-boy?”

“I’ve the papers.” Tommy made a huge effort to control his emotions, he needed to think.

“That’s what I like about you Mr. Shelby you know how to make a deal.”

“I’ll have the rest of your demands by the end of the week.”

“Fabulous, meet me at the canal at five o’clock. And you can have the wifey back after you hand over the rest.”

“Charlie’s yard. But I need to see she’s alright.”

“Ha, that’s not going to happen, I need to have a little fun first.” Jimmy hang up before Tommy could say another word, and it only left him more agitated than he already was.

Bonnie was already dead and Aberama was injured badly, he couldn’t let Y/N get hurt.

Tommy wanted to throw away the phone but deep down he knew it wouldn’t change a thing. So he walked towards the bar, finding only another memory unlocked as he saw the decanter, Y/N bought it for him after his horse won a race. Just like the globe and the black horse figure, she also added an hourglass in one his shelves.

Everything, reminded him of Y/N. No matter where he looked at.

Taking the checkbook from his drawer he started filling the information on the cheque.

***

Let’s leave the wives out of this. Tommy had whispered to Jimmy before turning his back at him.

It required all of his strength to not kill Jimmy right there at Charlie’s yard, but his message was loud and clear.

Subtly, Tommy let slip a direct threat to Jimmy’s wife by handling him the £500 cheque. Then pointing at Isaiah patrolling around should’ve made clear that he wasn’t joking.

About a couple of hours later, Tommy got a phone call from the Midland Hotel, announcing Mrs. Shelby was dropped at front desk.

He couldn’t drive fast enough to the hotel, smoking frantically to release some stress. As he saw the building another memory hit him hard, as the big salon was the place Y/N chose for the wedding back in the day.

For an instant he was transported back in time to that day, watching her in her wedding gown walking towards him, with her big smile and eyes sparkling from the love they felt.

'Round my hometown

Memories are fresh

Nothing prepared him for what he was about to see, surrounded by a sea of people carrying towels and a first aid kit. Tommy felt like his heart stopped beating as Y/N appeared in his eyesight, there was a deep bruise decorating her cheek, her chin scraped just like her palms, they were already putting some kind of ointment.

“Mr. Shelby I ran a quick checkup on your wife, but I’d like to run a few tes-”

But Tommy finally reacted and pushed past the Doctor to get to his wife. Kneeling in front of her, his hands trembling before caressing her face gently, he didn’t want to make her even flinch from the pain.

“Are you alright love?” He asked with fear in his voice, he was terrified to learn she was hurt.

Y/N threw herself in his arms, feeling relieved to finally see him. “Oh Tom!” Tears flew freely as she wrapped her arms around his neck, his came to rest behind her back, trying to convince himself that she was safe now.

Are the wonders of my world

Taking his gloves off, he took a deep breath.

“I’m hungry.” Y/N stated easing the tension, her statement made Tommy chuckle slightly feeling like he was getting his wife back.

“You heard Mrs. Shelby, she wants to eat something!” He cracked a small smile, leaning forward to catch her lips in a soft kiss, allowing her to give him back the part of his soul that was missing.

Wiping the tears from the corner of her eyes, Y/N arranged Tommy’s tie.

“So… I really need to leave all of this behind, I want to go home, have a bath and give Charlie a hug and then snuggle with you all night.”

“You know I can’t just look the other way around and pretend nothing happened, right?” He already had a plan to get to that prick and not lose anything in the process.

“I know,” her voice faded away as her hand squeezed Tommy’s. “Just let me have this moment, yes? I was terrified that I’d never see you again.”

Tommy swallowed hard as her voice broke. His hands rested at each side of her face, to make her look at him.

“What makes you think that you’d get rid of me so easily, ey?” Tommy asked with glossy eyes.

“Never.” Y/N moved her hand to the back of his head.

“Charlie has been asking for you a lot, Polly told him you were out of town, shopping.”

“Oh! Then we really need to get a few things, to keep the lie going.” Y/N joked, earning a scoff from Tommy.

“Everything reminded me of you… the house, the neighbors, places we’ve been together, this hotel, where we got married.”

Tommy motioned Y/N to stand up, his arm around her waist for support. Kissing her hair softly, he could only think of the memories they still have yet to create.

***

Masterlist

Tag list: @lyarr24 @runnning-outof-time @cillmequick @datewithgianni @cloudofdisney @gretelshelby @gypsy-girl-08 @lespendy @onlydeadcells @fastfan @stevie75 @prettylittlehoneyeyesxoxo @esposadomd @forbidden-forest-witch @ange-thoughts @moral-terpitude @elenavampire21 @forgottenpeakywriter @thenattitude @winchestergirl22 @zablife @heidimoreton @imichelle-l-rigby @allie131313 @already-broken144 @peakyscillian @babaohhhriley @shelbydelrey @shaddixlife @sloanexx @sydneyyyya (can’t tag) @adaydreamaway08 @pono-pura-vida @thomashelbyswife @darleneslane @everythingelseisextra

[winterarmyy]

Random angsty 40's!bucky blurb that i needed to share...

I've been having this constant concept in my head, whenever I'm listening to Midnight Rain by Taylor Swift. This might hurt some people because it has no happy ending. So, you have been warned.

Imagine it's the 40's and Bucky never fell out of that train and both him and Steve survived the war.

He is a war hero and she is an aspiring singer who came to New York to chase her dreams. They met at the bar where she worked at and the first time Bucky heard her singing, saw her performing; he was simply smitten. Literally would spend almost every night at the same bar just to watch her, admire her.

You'd think that his infamous reputation would give him some sort of confidence to woo her, but Bucky was a mess when he tried to approach her. He fumbles with his words, then completely lost them when she giggled at his blushed cheeks. Bucky still thought it was a miracle that she said yes when he asked her out on a date. It wa first of many that they had.

"My town was a wasteland. Full of cages, full of fences. Pageant queens and big pretenders. But for some, it was paradise"

And in one of those dates, she opens up about her past and dreams. Her, coming from a quiet, small town full of pretenders. Her, dreaming of a future where people would know her name, listen to her songs. While most men might ridicule her for having such silly dreams, Bucky has always been supportive of her.

He is sweet and kind, just a blinding ray of light to the shadow of her heart. She loved him. So does Bucky. And they had the most beautiful relationship together. They were happy.

"My boy was a montage. A slow-motion, love potion. Jumping off things in the ocean. I broke his heart 'cause he was nice"

At least until Bucky proposed to her. His knees was on the creaking wooden floor of his small apartment, his eyes wide and glisten with so much love and adoration for her. But even if she loves him with all that's left of her heart, she let her need for chasing her ambition reign her mind. So, she let him down.

"He was sunshine, I was midnight rain. He wanted it comfortable. I wanted that pain. He wanted a bride.I was making my own name. Chasing that fame. He stayed the same. All of me changed like midnight"

They parted ways after; not that Bucky wanted to. He was willing to wait for her until she's ready, however long it takes. But she didn't want to break his heart even more by giving him hope. So, she left.

Months later she was scouted sure enough she made it. She made her name, her legacy. She was a star; and her fame only rose higher until years gone by.

And "Midnight Rain" is her perspective in the future when she got all she ever wanted; her voice to be heard, her songs to played, the fame and the riches that came with it. She had everything. All except one; love.

One lonely night she was on the piano; the thought of Bucky came across her mind. And all of the words just spilled out from her heart, just as the tears broke from her eyes.

"It came like a postcard. Picture perfect, shiny family. Holiday, peppermint candy. But for him it's every day"

She wondered if Bucky ever got married. If he found another lucky woman who can mend the heart she had left broken. If he finally got the happiness he well deserved.

"So I peered through a window. A deep portal, time travel. All the love we unravel. And the life I gave away"

She hopes so. That he is happy but at the same time she missed him so dearly. Her soul yearned for his, her skin longed for his heat. His smile, his laughter, his kisses. Everything was unraveling. And she wondered about the life that she could've had with him if she stayed behind. If she said yes to forever. Would she be happier then?

"I guess sometimes we all get. Just what we wanted, just what we wanted. And he never thinks of me. Except when I'm on TV"

Yes, she made it. She got what she wanted. The cost? She had to abandon what she needed the most. And she imagined that Bucky must have forgotten her by now. He must have erase her from his life, that the thought of her will never came across his mind. Except, perhaps when he saw her in the news.

"I guess sometimes we all get. Some kind of haunted, some kind of haunted. And I never think of him. Except on midnights like this"

Many nights like this, she reminisce about her relationship with Bucky and realized that he is the best thing that had happened to her. And that revelation had haunted her because she knew that it was far too late for her now.

And i-- *sobs*

[chicxxonaa]

Hehehe, this is my second post following up my first one. I’m still getting used to my layouts of my posts. So please enjoy. 💜

CW: None, heavy angst, some fluff, Geto’s perspective on missing Gojo :(

Christmas has passed again

The new year is approaching as well.

And..you’re not here.

…

The girls laugh and play with the toys I bestowed on them. They’re so happy and healthy. But I can’t find it in my strength to smile as much as they can.

They’re tucked away and asleep now.

I look outside the window where I can see the city scape.

The air is chilled as it blankets over the night like a shroud.

And all I want to think about is you.

You, oh infinite one.

The gifted six eyed child.

You are the strongest.

But do you feel strong right now?

Don’t you feel tired like how I am?

Do you feel the weight of our souls crushing?

Is my pain in correspondence to yours?

…

I try to look out for you anywhere where I think you might be there.

The first I think of is your hair. So many people had the idea to compare you to chilled snow. But I beg to differ. Bright, untamed, a beautiful white.

The kind of white that the sun reflects on fresh blankets, drying outside on a spring day. The kind that is shown on beautiful chrysanthemums, gently blowing amongst the breeze. You were never much for caring about your look, so your hair was always so similar to like cotton, easy to mess up and pull apart. Like a dandelion, so easy to blow away, they speckled your eyelashes, some of the hair in your arms, and a little bit found in your cheeks. But in a way, it was so different, that I never thought I’d love something as much as your hair.

…

I saw my girls laugh and smile and their sounds of joy rang me to a time when you laughed and smiled with me.

God your smile was infectious. Like a flu i was willing to catch. So much so I was getting annoyed.

Your mouth was wide. Wide enough to see your smile spread across your face like dough. Every teeth, fang, part of your gums would be visible when you smiled. The kind of smile that was carved carefully by some benevolent being above you and I. Only something I was so gifted to see. A perfect array of pearls to form the most magnificent necklace across your lips. If could, I’d frame it in the confines of my mind where I would stare at awe in the museum of my memories.

…

I stared at the lights below the city and tried to see your eyes.

I was never so appealed to the sky. It was blue, what was such a big deal? It was simple science. The only phenomenon that was so simple, and sometimes so dull of this earth.

That was until when we skipped class the first time as first years to head to the roof. The sun was directly shining above us as we played a make shift game of catch and laughed so the world could hear.

You took off those round dark shades you always wore to wipe off your face. You never told me why you wore such glasses. They say the eyes are the windows to the soul, but what about them did you decide to keep them closed? Because when you took the end of your shirt to wipe off the sweat from your brows, you looked up.

Eyes without a face.

The blue in your eyes matched perfectly with the late summer sky. Like I was looking into a kaleidoscope of the sea. The windows to the soul, and your soul felt like that day. Your eyes were the sky, and your face was the sun. What a beautiful sun. I was willing to become blind to see you. Gaze at you. My blue sun.

…

Your skin was as pale as mine. But yours was like porcelain. Not a single scar, cut or mole in sight. A marble statue of desire. It’s all I can think about when I see this snow fall. That perfect skin, the holy body. Only one I can see when I have been wiped of my sins. But you’d wipe them for me with your touch. Velvety, innocent and yet the night of our first kiss, I died when I felt that heavenly death. And then resuscitated when I pulled back.

…

The one thing I try so desperately to remember, so desperately to salvage like a broken record in my mind, tainted with grime and dust, trying so hard to clean any distortions, is your voice.

God, I love your voice.

Every time you’d talk with that boisterous voice of yours, whether it was to say something cocky, a joke with no value, a laugh, a yell, a cry. When you said my name.

I couldn’t help but feel the heat of it all around me, suffocating me and drowning my ears in your sound.

But I remember one blue hour. Three in the morning, when all was still, tranquil.

You came into my room silently as to not disturb, but you know I don’t really sleep well. Less now that it’s been two years without you by my side.

You stand over me and my bed for a moment, mustering up the courage to speak to me. You call out my name in a whisper and I respond.

“Suguru,”

“What is it?”

“I can’t sleep..”

“Hm. Why?”

“…I can’t sleep without you near me..”

“Hm..”

“Can I…lay here with you?”

“…yes, you can”

As you laid down beside me in what was normally a twin bed, I could feel the weight of the mattress shift lower. But I did my best to make you more comfortable than I. You smelled of fresh body wash with a hint of your newly washed white tee. Your back was towards me. I didn’t find that satisfactory.

“Satoru”

“Hm?”

“Can you face me?”

You carefully turned over to face me.

“I wanna hear why you can’t sleep.”

“But I just told you.”

“Tell me again.”

“Why..?”

“…The sound of your voice helps me sleep. Like a lullaby.”

I can see your ears get red, even in such a dark room. You leaned forward and kissed me, and then proceeded to tell me a bit about your day, what you think of people, what you think of yourself. Every hum, every vowel, noun, verb, any name including mines that you’d speak from your tongue, was like music to me. I wanted to replay it over and over again. I didn’t want you to stop. I wanted to sleep to your tune.

You were the lullaby to my dreams. I wish I slept longer.

…

You’re not as mysterious as you claim to be you know. At least not to me. You’re a crystal ball, I see what you are when you’re like this. Vulnerable, beautiful. You’re not a god like you say you are. You’re beyond that.

You’re not an instrument of the world.

You’re not a gifted person.

You’re not the strongest.

You’re human.

Was mortality not enough for you?

…

The world is asleep, I’m not.

Your memories frost over the window pane of my apartment.

The new year is coming, and you’re not here.

Satoru

I miss you.

[marivoid]

Entry 27

Day 204

Guess who was heading NORTH instead of SOUTH. How could one mess up this bad? Well, apparently the sun's direction has flipped! It rises in the west, and sets in the east! The earth has done a full turnaround on how it works! That asteroid really screwed us over.

Although I only learned that fact with the help of a man named Keralis. I just happened to see the smoke billowing out through a forest of Evergreens (Still shocked that those trees are even alive) and followed it to a rather lovely wooden cabin.

I would love to say I turned tail right there and left while I still could! (-Random buildings with smoke means people and I would rather not want to find out if they are deadly-) But my plans were foiled when my foot got caught in a snare trap and left me dangling like a pinta!

And just to make matters worse, guess who happened to walk out at that time!

(Spoilers, the owner of the cabin!)

"Are you alright? No broken bones?"

"A slight head rush! But nothing too awful!"

Now, one may think the most sensible way to untie somebody hanging upside down is to undo the rope around their ankle and lower them down. That would be a perfectly sane, reasonable option.

Not taking an axe and slashing just a few centimeters above your foot and sending you falling head first into the ground.

(My neck still hurts as of writing this.)

"You really need to watch out for those traps! Scavengers and bandits love to use those sorts of things to rob people blind!" The best way to describe his voice was Swedish. (I think. I've only ever heard Swedish accents in old TV shows in the G.U.I.D.Es)

"I'll definitely try harder in the future?"

After I had managed to collect myself from that little mishap, the man explained to me what he was doing out there. Apparently Keralis had been living in the woods for a few years now and had rigged it full of traps in case any wanderers (like me) or Stranglers got a bit too close to home.

He seems like a nice enough man. Brought me inside, got me a couple glasses of water and was overall very hospitable. Asked a few questions about where I was going and... Well.

"I'm trying to find the Demon and Heavy-Body Builder. I should get there tomorrow but I haven't really seen... Anything, really."

Keralis had fallen silent at the mention of the names. However... Back then he just sounded like he was holding in his laughter the more I think about it. "And are you sure you're going the right way?"

"Yes? The sun rises in the east, sets in the west. Work off of that and you're fine."

"Switch those two around."

"... What do you mean, switch those two around?"

And thus began a minute of the loudest, heartiest belly laughter I've ever heard. This poor man may have died from his laughter if he had not collected himself!

"I'm sorry- I'm sorry! But goodness-" A wheeze and another laugh. "-I haven't met anyone who didn't know that! Of course you haven't found them, you're going the wrong way! Come, come, I'll show you something that should help!"

Keralis showed me a room that would have been any mapmaker's dream come true. There were so many maps pinned up on the walls, feather quills laying about on a cluttered desk, and a huge window that just made the room feel SAFE.

I hadn't realized I had been staring at everything for so long when he set a compass in my hand. "This, my dear friend, will get you where you need to go." He had said with a twinkle in his eyes. (His HUGE eyes, mind you.)

"I... Are you sure? These things seem hard to find."

"Oh nonsense! Nonsense! I can make another one if I really need it. But you, mister, are running around like a dog trying to catch its own tail! In circles!" His hand had fallen on my shoulder at that point and something about it... Just seemed off. His hand was unnaturally firm and felt colder than a normal hand? "Where you need to go is Comparator City! I have a map just for it as well- I know a few people there myself!"

The man kept rambling about something (I can't tell you what) because I had seen something off with his neck. Why was it darker on one side than the other? And what was up with those lines? They looked so much like...

"Sweet face? You are staring!"

"I-I'm sorry, who?" That shocked the ever loving stars out of me. Even now, I have never met anyone who calls a stranger 'Sweet Face.'

"You silly! Sweet Face! Since I still don't know your name after all!" He dropped a rather heavy roll into my arms while I was still in my state of shock. "Those are for you! One map straight to Comparator City, and a few slips of blank paper to make your own maps." Before I could even thank him for his kindness, Keralis was pushing me out of the room. "I have a spare room you can stay in for the night. It's the least I can do for you getting strung up like that! There is also a river nearby, if you need to take a plunge. I've already tested, no flesh eating bacteria in it! Just... Don't drink the water. To be safe."

And... That leads us to now. Me writing in this journal after being able to actually soak in water for once (No more ten minute rushes) and a soft bed for the night. It's really nice here. But unfortunately I can't stay. I need to find The Doctor. And now...

Now I'm just one step closer to finding him.

-MLW

-G.U.I.D.E 67

[bitebitesnap]

What Are You

Does anyone remember that time I said I had an AU for Guilty Gear? Yeah I don't really have much of an explanation for this beyond it was a test of that AU that I wanted to write that;s evolved into...this.

So yeah um, this has been sitting in my drafts for -checks notes- at least a few months??? I really wanted to get it out much earlier than now but tbh I'm just glad it's finally done so have this nearly 3000 word thing before I overthink it.

Heat burned in his eyes and throughout his chest. Smoky embers rolled through his throat, coating his tongue in ash and soot. Strain filtered through his forearms, resting hot on the shoulder. He shoved harder, grip tight around the wrench.

Absolutely nothing. The bolt remained as steadfast as any rusty piece of crap would be from lack of care.

His brow pinched tight. A deep frustrated breath heaved in his chest as a trickle of sweat rolled down his temple, "Hng...dammit.." He tugs the wrench free, staring at the thing with a harsh scowl.

"Still struggling down there, hothead?"

He rolled his eyes almost good naturedly-not that you could see, "Shut up. I'm making progress, quite making fun of me." He brushed the back of his hand against his cheek, smearing something viscous but he ignored it. The headband had been an oversight, as he meant to take it off before getting under his little project, but at least the leather kept the sweat out of his eyes

You still laughed at him while kicking your feet, "Maybe I will when you're not getting covered in grease and let us both get something to eat for once!"

He huffed, "It's not that simple. Can;t just force the damn thing, it takes a careful touch. One wrong move and," Metal pings sharply right into his ear, but it proves his point as the exhaust rocks softly against his flick, "This thing goes right into my face."

He hears your hair rustle as you push it behind your ear nonchalantly, "And? You've been punched real hard by a car once."

"Got hit by a car."

"Semantics aren't important." Your shadow on the wall waves off his scoff, "You'll be fine."

"I will. This won't." He picks up the end of the topic of discussion to hold it out from underneath the motorcycle, "This thing was half a month's payment to get and I don't feel like remaking it. And the manufacturer is out of business for the rest of the year, so there's no replacement either." The recently polished pipe squeaks as he props it back onto his shoulder, hanging precariously just over his face.

The singular reason why it couldn't just be pushed out of his way was staring him in the face with all it's rusted stubbornness-a joint from the old exhaust kit still set in place. He'd left it when first starting since it wasn't too important yet, but now he kind of wished he did. The rust had soldered the bolt into the frame and he couldn't replace that without completely fucking up the whole shape of the bike. If the section he was on wasn't a support brace he wouldn't have been worried about it, but there it was right in his face like a fist to the nose and here he was trying to fix it.

To add insult to injury it was quarter past noon, right in the heat of the day. The sunlight from the garage's ratty window was like a branding pole right across his chest, not held back in the slightest by the missing slats in the already broken blinds. He'd already sweat through his one good shirt-thankful for the one time he thought ahead and took off his vest for 'safety reasons' that only meant for the jacket to sustain the least amount of damage possible.

"Yeah fair enough on that end I guess." Your small sigh stills his hand before he can pick up the wrench again, "The Dragoons have been getting worse." And he almost rolled his eyes, huffing under his breath.

Dragoons. Half human, half dragon. Monsters in the form of men that only knew destruction. The reason for the current lockdown that pushed him off the King's work list for a while. For his own sake, he said.

Bullshit.

His grip on the wrench tightened, "Yeah. Like always." The frame creaked a bit as he pushed himself into place, the old wheels on the cart he laid on rattling under his back, "Bastards love to make things worse whenever they crawl out of their holes." Like keep him from getting an actual set of jacks for the bike over his head and leaving him to resort to ram-shackling the thing on top of scrap and a pile of real thick phone books.

You only hummed. The tips of your steel toed boots flicked in and out from behind the front wheel. You;d sat yourself on one of the many old crates he had yet to haul out of this old garage, leaning back and kicking up your heels like you owned the place. He didn;t doubt you came without your phone, which he did hear you tap away on again once you stopped answering. So he turned back to the subject in his hands-a stubborn bolt that refused to move.

It was after a few minutes of him quietly struggling to himself that you spoke up, clearly bored with whatever you had been entertaining yourself with before, "Though it's kind of confusing to me." He lets out a tight hum for you continue, "How are you different?"

He grunts through his teeth-damn this thing refused to move, "Different? The Hell are you on about?"

"I mean." You hesitate, huffing as you gather your bearings, "Why aren't you?" Your heels tap against the crate as you swing them.

"Why aren't I what? Just say it." He let too much aggression slip as he tried again to make the bolt just fucking move. Fucking Hell, he was moments away from just wrenching the whole lot off and calling it a day. Support frame be damned he wasn't dealing with this for much longer.

"Dangerous. Like the other Dragoons."

Immediately tension locks his hands into place, wrench handle digging into his palm. Ice pours into his veins as if the sun decided it wasn't summer anymore and slipped right into winter. Wide eyes glance towards where you sat, frantic, "What."

If his bark affected you there was no way he could tell from where he sat. Your boots shuffled against the crate, steel lined heels clacking together, “You have the Dragon Install, which is a Dragoon ability. The marks on your neck are a dead give away, too. You're also stubborn, short tempered, and itching for a fight at a moments notice. Just like one of them.” Each finger he heard you flick out made his shoulders flinch almost imperceptibly to you, but for him he felt each one like a tick of a clock.

A self conscious hand left the wrench to brush along the stripes decorating the sides of his neck and throat, normally covered by the jacket's collar. The jacket he had stupidly tossed aside so he could drag himself underneath his project without worry. Right.

Fuck him.

He forced his hand back onto the wrench. Change topic, change topic, ”Dragoons are assholes that can't keep their heads on long enough to hold a conversation. Mostly they're known for their rampant destruction of a lot of big cities.“ Frantic he scanned around for something, anything to busy his other hand with so you wouldn't notice his pause-or at least hopefully, you'd brush it off and move on like he did, ”You did go to school at one point right.“ The question wasn't as smooth as he wanted it to be but it would have to do as he rummaged in the junk next to him.

You picked up the topic change. He knew you did. The sudden lurch forwards was perfectly aligned with the indignant scowl you always gave him when he prodded at your intelligence ”Hey I was homeschooled, asshole. I know enough.“

A little huff pulled the corner of his mouth, "Ya sure about that? I remember having to tell you about the older generations of that tech menace you call a phone." Pliers found his hand and lifted out of the mess on the floor. Without thinking too much on it he clasped the teeth around the wrench's handle.

"And? I didn;t take tech classes in college, along with half the population in the city." Your shadow waves away the comment and sweeps towards the door well out of his line of sight.

He leers at your image, grip tightening as he pushed, "You. College. Really."

"Yes really, jackass. I did manage to get in like every other half-baked professional we work with."

”Not to get anything better than a-“ Metal snapped much too loudly and right into his face, ”FUCK-! Shit….dammit.“ The bitter taste of now twisted steel bit at his tongue as the flecks scattered onto the garage floor beneath him. Even the wrench flung itself away as if to escape blame while it clattered along the floor.

”You good down there?“

”Yeah..Just fucked it up.“ He brushed the metal off his face as best he could, though a faint sting laced his eyes, ”Nothing new down here. Old piece of shit still has it out for me.“ With a scowl towards the skeletal frame braced above him he assessed the damage.

While the frame had been scraped bad, nothing was too out of order. The bolt's remains fell out of the socket with a tug from the pliers still in his hand, a mangled mess of threaded steel reduced to just a nub. He didn't really care where the rest of it went-with his luck it exploded from the force he exherted, which was fantastic. With the exhaust pipe in the other hand he shoved it up further under the chasis until it braced onto the floor over his head-not an ideal place for it, granted, as it could twist up the metal in some way, but it was better than on him or lost in the mess that was this garage's floor.

But it was your snickering that made him shove against his bike's suspended frame, the cart’s wheels rattling beneath him as he looked at you with a deep frown, ”Shut the Hell up, asshole.“ Slowly sitting up he scrubbed his very likely grease covered fingers over his eyes, probably smearing black over his face in the process, ”You don't even care that I got metal in my eyes, do you?”

You just grinned at him, leather jacket squeaking as you shrugged, “Nah, I know you're fine. Not like I haven't seen you deal with worse.” Your gaze stays on him even though he gives you a glare, narrowing onto that smug little tilt of your lips for a bit too long while you go back to picking at the peeling patch on your arm.

He grunts, getting up from the cart, “Ya sure about that, runt? Could have got a real big shard in my eye and you would be laughing about it. Real mature of you to make fun of me while I could be bleeding on the floor.” Damn, his neck ached. Granted he was laying down for longer than normal, but it rarely got this bad. It pulled on his shoulders while he rested a hand over the knot at the base of his neck and tugged hard-the nice pop rolling through his spine deeply satisfying.

“But you wouldn't because Dragoons don't get hurt that easily.”

He huffed, long and loud. Again with that. “I told you, I;m not a Dragoon.” Dropping the bolt into the scrap pile he starts digging into the drawers of a donated file cabinet that was being filled with anything but, “I'm not a mindless freak like they are.”

Perhaps you felt merciful today because once his sharp retort left him you fell silent. A small victory. Unfortunately the natural desire to ignore the current problem now left him painfully aware of just how bad he’d let this borrowed garage get. The file cabinet was the oldest piece he had-a surprising feat, as the building was at least a few decades- filled with more rust than whatever he had that had spent too much time lying around on the floor and needed a place to be stuffed into. And it's convenience was also the problem-there was more than just spare bolts in this thing. It was practically bursting with random crap he didn’t need when he had it but didn’t want to deal with. It was less an organization method and more a way to ignore the mess.

And clearly, an excuse not to continue the topic.

He'd never admit to the unease roiling in his gut. Waiting was not his thing-neither was digging through old crap in the waning hope you'd drop the idea niggling in your head for something he wanted to be bothered by.

”So.“

But you were, in fact, the most stubborn human being he's ever met.

He sighed, rolling his head back behind his shoulders, “What now.” He grumbled, hand still halfway into a new drawer.

“I'm getting to it, jerk, give me a second” Again he snorted as you huffed. But when you weren't immediately going down another one of your common rantings about the king you both worked under-which would be a blessing in this case, he'd take anything else right now-he grew wary.

Yet you continued.

”I know of the dragons. Big ugly things that come from the rifts to the Otherside, some unknown dimension parallel to our own where it's similar but wrong in a way.” Your boots tamp onto the concrete as you hop off the crate, ”People think that humans were there once from relics, but it;s possible the dragons either ate them all or did something to get rid of them.“ Steps clunk across the garage floor as you approached slowly, almost cautiously, “I know you're not a dragon. That much is obvious." He rolled his eyes, "You've also stated that you're not a Dragoon, but you have a lot of similar abilities that Dragoons have-short temper, brash personality, preference towards destruction and the like.” His ears twitch at each finger you flick out, repeating the count you’d made before, “Yet at the same time you have control over your rage. Instead of reaping havoc, you direct it, almost like a gun, towards whoever you're fighting. In fact I don't think I've ever seen you get super angry at anything that isn’t that hunk of junk you call a project over there.” Air swishes, like you'd tossed a thumb over your shoulder.

He’s frozen in place, staring blankly at the cabinet. It’s all too much. How had he not noticed how closely you were paying attention. How well you’d been watching his every move-sure, he couldn’t exactly call you a slacker, but you’d rarely made it feel like you were a threat.

And yet he should have. It was written in your title, your name.

Hunter. Dragon Killer.

Harmless wasn’t in the job description.

But…could he really call you dangerous? Yes, you’d read out his failed cover up like a book on a shelf, but it wasn’t with malice or even disappointment. Though you sounded a bit exasperated, it wasn’t what stood out-just a backdrop to something softer, lighter despite the weight of them. Something almost like…

Curiosity.

“So my question is, if you're not a dragon, or even a Dragoon, then…” A subtle shift of your hair as if  you’d tilted your head makes his breath catch in his chest, ”..What are you?“

The words are there. They stick in his throat like honey-sweet, sickly so, a coat of lies he could use to cover the whole truth and hide it away before it's ever known. He could speak them now, cover his back and run away again.

But he can't. He's already gone too far. Said too much, let you in too soon. If he backed out now, it would only make it worse for the both of you. In his eyes, there’s two ways this can go. Either you get it from him, or you take the unbelievably stupid risk of finding someone else to answer-neither of which are on his good list of ideas.

Well, at least one was a definite no-go. The other not so much, but he couldn't guarantee how flaky he could get.

Instead he sighs. Air hotter than the setting sun boils against his lips, what little condensation a desert could procure steaming away before his face in a puff. With a collecting breath he turns, face carefully neutral. The aged black shirt stretches to accommodate the tight cords of muscle as he crosses his arms, workbench creaking as he leans back against it.

Looking you in the eye he forces the words to leave his lips, ”A Drago.“

He sees the gears in your head working. Little flicks of confusion as you glance about, unsure whether to maintain his intense stare or gather information yourself by whatever he'd hung up on the walls. But the garage's scattered remnants of memorabilia wouldn't elaborate on his words, thus forcing you to turn back to him. And with a soft swallow, you ask the words he didn't want to answer yet knew he had to, ”…What's a Drago.“

And here it would fall apart.

”A dragon turned human.“

[practicecourts]

Beatles prompts

there's this Taylor Swift writing prompts lyric thing going around & while lovely (truly lovely) I felt it would be nice to have another list too.

She's leaving home, after living alone for so many years

we gave her everything money could buy

And you're making me feel like I've never been born.

So how could I dance with another (Ooh) When I saw her standing there

But when I get home to you I find the things that you do will make me feel alright

Changing my life with the wave of her hand

Take these broken wings and learn to fly

Me, I'm just the lucky kind

And I'm not what I appear to be

Things we said today

Some day you'll know I was the one

She thinks of him and so she dresses in black

Treat me like you did the night before

Hey, you've got to hide your love away

I ain't no fool and I don't take what I don't want

You're gonna lose that girl

She's got a ticket to ride, but she don’t care

It's only love, and that is all / But it's so hard loving you

If you leave me / I will follow you and bring you back where you belong / 'Cause I couldn't really stand it / I admit that I was wrong

Open up your eyes now, tell me what you see

I've just seen a face I can’t forget, the time or place where we just met

Why she had to go, I don’t know, she wouldn’t say. I said something wrong, now I long for yesterday

Working for peanuts is all very fine / But I can show you a better time

Leaving the note that she hoped would say more...

This bird had flown

When I call you up, your line's engaged

Leave it all till somebody else lends you a hand

You're telling all those lies

In the good and the bad books that I have read

Say the word and you'll be free

I met you in the morning

Waiting for the tides of time

I’m fixing a hole where the rain gets in, to keep my mind from wandering

I can see that I was blind

You don't look different, but you have changed

We'll forget the tears we've cried

Keeping an eye on the world going by my window

And in her eyes you see nothing

No sign of love behind the tears cried for no one

Love is all and love is everyone / It is knowing, it is knowing…

UPDATED with so many more lines that just need love! 41. Living is easy with eyes closed. Misunderstanding all you see 42. When the broken-hearted people, living in the world agree, there will be an answer, let it be. 43. There’s nothing you can do that can’t be done 44. Carve your number on my wall / And maybe you will get a call from me 45. With every mistake / We must surely be learning 46. Something in the way she moves attracts me like no other lover 47. But of all these friends and lovers, there is no one compares with you 48. For well you know that it’s a fool who plays it cool. By making his world a little colder 49. Try thinking more if just for your own sake

50 (from the last and final Beatles song 2023 - Now and Then) I know it's true, it's all because of you / and if I make it through, it's all because of you

I could do another one of these lol... i'll start collecting anyway !

[babydipper]

“Word of warning, mate,” Mulciber spits with a cruel smirk, “she doesn’t swallow.” Pandora looks stricken and Dorcas can feel her blood boil at Mulciber’s confession. She wants him dead. Wants him to be ruined, left in pieces, and forgotten. She wants to ruin him completely with her own hands.

But before Dorcas can move, Mulciber is already taking a step back and touching his face. There’s blood on his fingers. It drips down his arm. Ruins his robes. Ruins his pride. For a second, there’s nothing but the smell of iron and she has to close her eyes to fully experience it, process it. The ruby drops blinded her, reflecting in Pandora’s dress.

Before Dorcas could move, Remus Lupin punched Mulciber in the face.

Remus Lupin has punched Mulciber for Pandora. Nothing makes sense anymore.

-

Dorcas ends up with Lupin on a fake balcony Pandora found a year ago. It’s evidently forgotten by the staff and it’s based on the ground floor, which makes it perfect for hiding and smoking when they want to spend time alone. She sits on the railing, watching Lupin with a cold bottle of firewhiskey to his face.

Mulciber punched back before leaving the party and now she has to babysit Pandora’s new boytoy. She would heal him if he asked. He hasn’t. “We’re lucky Rosier didn’t get to him first,” Dorcas says because the silence is eating her alive along with alcohol in her system. She has found a stray cigarette in the pocket of the jumper she has stolen from Evan, so she lits it up with a spell. She likes the little gifts he leaves her. “It would bloody ruin everything.”

“Why?”

“Because he and Barty would kill him,” Dorcas confesses. “And it would have consequences.”

Remus laughs harshly, but he seems genuine. “Yeah. Yeah, it would. It will for me.”

“So your little friends weren’t supposed to know,” she plays with the cig in her hands. “I wonder what Black will say about hanging out with his baby brother in the same room.”

Something passes through Lupin’s face and it’s not caused by the building-up bruise. Dorcas puts her cheek on her knees. Everything smells like cigarettes and alcohol and Autumn. It’s the smell of disaster. She likes it best. “His opinion on my life is irrelevant.”

This is it. This is why he hangs out with Pandora and why he hasn’t gone to his dormitory the second Mulciber’s fist met his face. Dorcas takes pity and passes the cig. Lupin takes it with grace she hasn’t suspected him to have. He has to smoke, she decides. It makes him less of a loser.

Pandora slips through the window, the only way to get to the balcony, still wearing heels. Her makeup is smeared a little and her hair is a mess, but other than that and some blood on the dress, she looks fine. Not as if her birthday party got ruined. And certainly not as if her ex-boyfriend humiliated her in front of people. She watches them briefly, Lupin on the ground and Dorcas on the railing. “Fuck,” Pandora goes then, “Fuckity fuck.” She’s drunker than Dorcas remembers, but she doesn't blame her. “I bloody hate him. I didn’t even get to kiss anyone,” Pandora pouts.

So Dorcas leans in and kisses her, hard, all tongue and teeth. Pandora melts. They part hearing a noise, quite startled. Lupin has let go of the bottle, but fortunately, it hasn’t broken. He looks even more startled, so Pandora smiles her most dangerous smile. The one that is so sweet that it just can’t mean anything good. She squeezes Dorcas’s hand in thanks and falls down beside the bloke. “You want to join?” she asks innocently.

Lupin opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. It gives Dorcas enough time to get the bottle and start to drink with her hips leaning against the railing. Firewhiskey burns her throat. She enjoys the feeling. “Fuck, sorry,” he tries, “sorry for stalling. I’m making this awkward.” He brushes his hair with his hands and then he does the same to his face; the cigarette has long since been finished. Dorcas passes him the bottle. He drinks greedily. “Fuck, I don’t think I like girls like this anymore. Does it make sense?”

“No,” Dorcas says.

“Yes,” counters Pandora and shoots her a glare. Dorcas just shrugs in response.

[arsontisticallyinfernal]

»»—-𝐻𝒶𝓅𝓅𝓎 𝑒𝓋𝑒𝓇 𝒶𝒻𝓉𝑒𝓇—-««

꧁𓊈 𝘊𝘰𝘯𝘵𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘢𝘵𝘪𝘰𝘯 𓊉꧂

Summary: It's been a while since Yuu lashed out towards the first years, but Yuu hasn't showed up to any classes ever since the last overblot.

Content warnings: attachment issues, abandonment, possible ooc writing, overblot mentions, the fields are barren of anything but angst

Genre: Angst, no comfort, there is no actual happy ending and the title is a lie

Fandom: Disney's Twisted Wonderland

Characters: Malleus Draconia, Ace Trappola, Deuce Spade, Grim, and the first years are mentioned

Pronouns: They/them reader, He/it Malleus, He/him Ace

Writing time: fifty-four(54) minutes

•°¯`•• 𝐹𝒾𝒸 𝓊𝓃𝒹𝑒𝓇 𝒸𝓊𝓉 ••´¯°•

The sky was dark, clouds congregating over Ramshackle like a halo of shame. Sat in the lounge, was Yuu, alone in misery on the couch with their grey feline peacefully asleep on their lap. They should've felt happy, an overblot hasn't happened in months, yet something clung onto their skin like a leech that kept biting at their mental state.

Were the first years okay?

It was one of the many questions in Yuu's mind, they wanted to feel mad at them all, but they couldn't have the heart to genuinely hate anyone in the school.

As they slowly petted Grim, the sound of sudden thunder shook the prefect, whipping their head upwards and towards the window, narrowing their eyes as they noticed a figure in the yard. It was a welcomed presence, one that Yuu adored. They carefully picked up Grim from their lap and set him on a cushion, placing a blanket on top of the cat. With that, they grabbed the umbrella by the doorway and treaded outside, opening it up and making their way to the fae.

"Tsunotarou, it's been some time." Yuu spoke with clear joy in their voice, walking up to its side, a smile spreading across their face.

"Yes, it has been, child of man. I have heard you haven't been attending school?"

"Oh...yes. That. Well, I just needed some time I guess, it's been tiring."

Yuu always felt comfortable around Malleus.

"If there's something troubling your mind, you can tell me."

He had looked down at Yuu, smiling at the prefect. It's been months since they first met, yet it felt like it's been years with how close the two have grown. Malleus was blind to what the future will be, it was too busy being caught up in the present to even take a guess.

"I just...Malleus I'm gonna be going home."

What?

"Crowley finally got me a portal to get back to my world. I want to go home, really! But...I feel like I haven't done enough, I feel like I still need to apologize to everyone. And..."

They didn't want to leave behind the many people they've come to love and treat like family.

Yuu didn't want to say anything more, fearing that they'd hurt Malleus more than they already have with the news. It looked shocked, befuddled, and broken, like a shattered pot laid upon the ground to be looked at.

"You're...going home?"

He couldn't muster itself to say more, because that's all that needed to be said.

"You're leaving me?"

"Tsuno...this world, it isn't for me, I'm not supposed to be here! I feel like a bug in the system of the world. I stick out like a branch in mud, Tsuno. I don't want to leave you behind but..."

Everything is as silent as it was inside. Neither of them exchanged any words the rest of the night.

The next day, Yuu finally went to their classes, awaiting the end of the day. Once sunset came about, only Yuu's closest friends were invited to the orientation room, left to sit in silence as Yuu bid them all a bland goodbye before stepping through a portal that was a warped picture of their home.

Ace made eye contact with Yuu right before they went through, he looked miserable. Standing all around him were the first years, Ace knew that he and Deuce would be most affected.

He still had so much to tell Yuu, they all still had so many adventures to have as a group.

He hoped it'd be the same without the magicless prefect. But deep inside, he knew nothing would ever be the same.

𝔼𝕟𝕕.

@brushtailedportals

Requests are always open!

[phanfictioncatalogue]

Fics With Body Part Names In The Title (2) Masterlist

part one

Arms Unfolding (ao3) - alimacbrux

Summary: It’s been two years since Dan and Phil have seen each other after an explosive break up. But now, a few years later when they’re both a bit more certain of themselves, maybe, just maybe, they can make it work again.

Breathe Fire Into My Heart (ao3) - Finally_Facing_Failure

Summary: Dan Howell lives in a world were dragons fly the skies, with riders on their backs. He has to train to become a rider, even though he doesn’t want to.

The upside? A boy named Phil who trains beside him.

Broken Doors And Open Hearts - andromehdas

Summary: Phil breaks the door to the office and they cant find a way out.

Broken Leg - 2009manchesterphan

Summary - Dans running late for the radio show, but as Phil comes to hurry him on, Phil takes a tumble down the stairs and breaks his leg.

cherry lips and crystal skies (ao3) - orphan_account

Summary: It’s summer in England and Phil gets invited to a high school pool party to survive the heat wave. There, he meets a flirty and mysterious Dan Howell.

Eyes (wattpad) - abbythephan

Summary: Dan notices things. He notices the way the paint in the walls at school are cracked and old. He notices how his Father comes home everyday, smelling of a different perfume each night. He notices the way his parents scarcely speak to each other. But most of all, he notices the Boy with the beautiful blue eyes.

Eyes Of Comfort (Part Two) (wattpad) - redmeetingwhite

Summary: Phil uses the safeword.

feel upon my lips (the taste of you) (ao3) - i_am_my_opheliac

Summary: Phil has never done this, has never wanted to until Dan.

Felt By The Heart - cozyfoxy

Summary: Dan is blind and has been since he was only three. He hates that he can’t see and feels like life is going nowhere for him, until one day, fate steps in.

Finding the Guts - twentydanphilots

Summary: Short fluff based around Dan and Phil’s first meeting in 2009.

forever is in your eyes (ao3) - counting2fifteen

Summary: A family finger painting session

if my heart was a house (you’d be home) (ao3) - stylinshaw

Summary: In which Phil comes home from the gym sick and tired and Dan is concerned and protective.

I’ll Make Your Heart Beat Faster - danosaurlovesphillion

Summary: Based off that time Dan and Phil did the glow-in-the-dark paint challenge (on BBC radio show) which Dan described as “erotic”. They go home and try to help each other wash off the paint but some bottled up feelings get in the way.

Joining Up The Dots With The Freckles On Your Cheek (ao3) - twoheadlights (fizzfic)

Summary: He traces circles on Phil’s back now and sees a freckle right in the center. Phil’s open window always lets some light in and he’s practically basking in the pale moonlight to match his skin. Dan smiles to himself and traces a I Phil across his back, as if it was a secret he didn’t want Phil to know even though he did.

He shuts his eyes, feeling sleepiness finally hit him when Phil suddenly moves next to him and murmurs, “Love you too.”

Lungs Filled With Flowers (ao3) - worriedpeach (skeletonflowers)

Summary: Whenever Dan has a bad day, he always knows that Animal Crossing will be there for him no matter what. When he finds a friend code written on his desk, he immediately adds it into his DS, despite not knowing who it could be.

My Name On Your Lips - wishicouldunreadthat

Summary: The darker conditioning fic. Dan, fourteen and socially awkward, finds himself kidnapped. But the situation doesn’t seem as bad as he thought. In fact, he might even like his kidnapper. Is that normal? Is he even safe?

The Hidden Face (ao3) - CloudyBear

Summary: Phil Lester has always been bullied, and mostly by a particular brown haired boy with coffee coloured eyes. When he finally goes to boarding school, hoping to have a fresh start and forgetting about his not so enjoyable past, he gets an unhappy surprise when he finds out who’s going to be his roommate for the rest of the year…

Those Lungs - thetummyhand

Summary: Dan wanted to have a relaxing summer holiday so he and Phil fly off somewhere warm and ocean side in a cozy cottage on the beach.

Wisdom Teeth Removal- doomedhowell

Summary: Dan goes to the dentist and gets his wisdom teeth removed and Phil cares for him after.

You’re In My Lungs - tinylester

Summary: Dan lives his life beneath a cloud of depression and swimming in a sea of self-hatred. His day to day battles with anxiety and toying with the point of being alive leave things like love at the very back of his mind. Insert Phil: a boy with dark hair and blue eyes, and despite the fact that he’s found himself in a horrible cliché, Dan quickly decides that meeting Phil might be the best thing to ever happen to him. But as their relationship progresses, Dan learns that other people aren’t medicine and Phil may, just in fact, be more toxic to him than the packs of cigarette he smokes.

[theshippirate22]

All Too Well (Steddie Version)

part 2! part 1

or read it on ao3!

Steve felt perfectly sick. If it was any later, he would get out of bed and start getting ready for work, but it was still the middle of the night, only about two a.m., so to do anything but lay there was pointless. 

He rolled on his side, hoping to kill the feeling in his stomach, to relax enough to sleep. He knew he wouldn’t, but it felt like he should try. 

Everything remotely good that had happened that year was long gone. He could still picture it after all these days, but the magic of it was missing and now it just made him ill. 

“Where are you going?” 

“I’m taking you home.”

“This is not the way to my house.” Steve looked out the window at the little town street he knew as well as his hands.

“Didn’t say your house, now did I?”  Eddie grinned at him.

Steve smirked back, tearing his sight away to push his hair out of his face. The AC had broken in the van, so all the windows were down, and the wind was forcing his hair away from where he liked it. 

“Stop looking at me!” He rolled his eyes. “I can feel your eyes burning into me, Munson.”

“Can’t help it. You’re pretty, you know that?”

Steve opened his mouth to argue, blush creeping up to his ears, but couldn’t find any words to defend himself. Eddie had called him pretty so many times before; why did he still lose all higher cognitive function when he said it? He could hardly breathe...

He couldn’t meet Eddie’s gaze, even though he could still feel it against the side of his head, deciding instead to look straight ahead. 

“What, are you shy, sweetheart?” Eddie brushed a stray piece of Steve’s hair from his face, laughing softly to himself. “Guess you haven’t heard it enough. You are pretty. Prettiest boy I know.”

“Stop it.” Steve swatted him off, still not meeting his eye so as not to encourage him, but that didn’t stop the soft smile taking control of his face. “Stop it, pay attention. You’re driving. Stop it! Look, that’s a red light!”

Eddie glanced at it, bursting into a grin as the light immediately went green and he coasted through it. 

“See? Even traffic thinks you’re pretty. Wants me to look at you.”

It was raining. Steve could hear it pounding against the windows. Against the roof. 

He rolled over to look outside. He’d been sleeping with the blinds open for weeks. He hadn’t really slept for a long time, and it was easier to see if the sun was up so he could stop lying there miserably.

It had to have been raining for a long time, because everything he could see was thoroughly soaked, but the sound had just managed to reach him. Maybe he’d fallen asleep for just a second there, and if he focused hard on the sound of the downpour against the glass, he could do it again. 

Worth a shot. It’s not like he had any other plans.

“Hey!” Eddie ran from the other side of the trailer. “Absolutely not! Wayne, put it away. I swear to God...!”

Steve took the leather photo album from where Wayne held it out to him. “What have you got in here, Munson?”

“No. No, give it to me, Steve.” 

Eddie tried to take the book from him, but Steve just lifted it above his head and laughed, swatting him away as he jumped to grab it. 

“Give it to me!”

“Let him look, kid.” Wayne leaned back against the sink, almost smiling.

“Steve!”

“Oh, did I just find a way to embarrass the Eddie Munson?” Steve chuckled, leaning over the peninsula and opening the photo album so he could better look at it. 

Eddie groaned, letting his head fall into his hands. “Jesus Christ...”

Steve brushed his fingertips over the faded Polaroids and the tiny body of young Eddie. He was skinny and pale, even more so than he was now. He had his head buzzed and a broad, innocent smile that was long gone from his lips. Now, his smile was usually cynical and sardonic, and if he really meant it, it was nothing more than a soft shadow of the one in the pictures. 

The pictures were mostly birthday parties, parks, pools. His childhood mirrored Steve’s, but they were on opposite sides. Eddie’s birthday parties were Wayne, his mom, and a homemade cake, candles lit with a cigarette lighter. Steve’s birthday parties were his entire elementary school class, a massive raspberry filled sheet cake with his name on it in bright blue icing, and sparklers in the yard. Same feeling, different world. 

“That’s from his first tee-ball game.” Wayne murmured as Steve turned to the page. He eyed Eddie to see if he’d snap, then continued when he didn’t. “He ran over to me and his mom screaming ‘I got a home run!’”

“Oh God.” Eddie buried his face in his hands again, turning bright red. “Please. Stop. I’m begging. Steve, have you no empathy?”

“You’re cute.” Steve mumbled. “You look so happy.”

“Ughhh! You’re awful!”

“Oh hush, kid.” Wayne tousled his hair, pushing past him to get another beer. 

It was a few hours later, after Steve had fully exploited finding one of his pressure points, that Eddie even dared mention it. 

“You’re gonna have to show me your kid pictures now. You do know that, right? It’s only fair after you tortured me.”

Steve lifted his head from where he was lying next to him on the floor, stuck in a sort of sleepy haze from the lateness of the hour. “You don’t want to see mine.”

“No, no, I do.”

Steve shook his head softly. “No, uh, they aren’t... happy. Not like yours. I’m pretty miserable in ‘em... I was miserable for a long time...”

Eddie didn’t answer. 

Steve thought maybe he’d upset him. It was always hard to tell what he was thinking, especially for Steve, who already had a hard time reading people. He needed him to say something, anything. 

Eddie reached for him, fingertips brushing over his wrist. He forced open the fist Steve had subconsciously made and laced their fingers together.

“What were you like?” He mumbled. “When you were little?”

“You wouldn’t have liked me.”

“Mm, probably not.”

They both laughed softly, shoulders shuddering against each other. 

“I was a dorky little kid with a bowl cut and glasses,” Steve murmured. He figured he owed him that much, at least.

“A bowl cut? You telling me Little Byers has a chance of becoming The Hair?”

“Only when I was little. By the time I was, like, eight, it was more like this. Byers is beyond saving.” 

Eddie chuckled, rubbing his thumb over Steve’s. 

“I had a twin-sized bed with monster truck sheets, and I played basketball, soccer, and football, and I was so mean.” Steve sighed. “I didn’t realize for a long time what a jerk I am.”

“You’re not a jerk now.” Eddie corrected softly. “You were- don't get me wrong- but not anymore. Now you’re just a weirdo.”

“Oh, wow, thanks.” He rolled his eyes, smirking.

“No, that’s a good thing! I’m a weirdo, too, right? I like to think I’m not so bad.”

“You’re not so bad at all, Eds.” He gently squeezed his hand. It was nice to have it there; the feeling was more secure than Steve had felt in a long time. 

Why had Steve even bothered to tell him about his past? To tell him anything? He knew the reason, but he didn’t like how impossibly stupid he felt when he thought about it. 

He told him about his past, expecting him to be there in his future. 

The irony of it. Steve thought of that night a lot. 

Here they were, both of them, in the future, just not near each other’s at all. It was so surreal to have a broken promise like that. 

Robin wouldn’t even talk about him. As if she thought Steve couldn’t bear to even hear his name. Which wasn’t true, of course. 

He thought about him constantly. 

He couldn’t decide though: Would he rather hear about him being okay, having a life and being fine? Moving on, even though Steve felt like he had died? Or was it better to suffer and drown in the memories? Hope Eddie was doing the same thing on the other side of town?

Maybe it was a good thing Robin didn’t talk about him. 

“Hey! Catch!” Steve threw the keys to the Beemer at Eddie. 

Eddie shrieked, flinching as the keys hit him in the arm and fell to the ground. “What the hell?!”

“You should drive. You know where we’re going, and I don’t.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “You’re gonna let me drive your baby?”

“I trust you.”

“Bad choice, Harrington.” He grinned, plucking the keychain up and sliding into the driver’s seat. 

Robin and Nancy piled into the backseat with Steve on the passenger side.

“I’ve never been to a protest,” Nancy said. She only had half a face of makeup, and currently, Robin was holding a mirror so she could perfect her eyeliner. 

“Oh, they’re so much fun! Eds, remember what happened last summer with the cops?”

“I remember.” He chuckled, looking back at her through the rearview mirror. “That was awesome.”

Steve turned, half facing Eddie, half facing the girls. “Remind me what exactly it is we’re protesting.”

“The patriarchy, probably,” Robin said, spitting out the word like it tasted bad and rolling her eyes.

“What’s wrong with the patriarchy? I’m not arguing; I really don’t know.”

Nancy pursed her lips, smoothing rose-colored blush along her cheeks. “Oh, fuck the patriarchy.”

The others were caught off guard by the comment; Nancy wasn’t one to curse. She was really serious.

Eddie laughed in surprise, and agreed, “Fuck the patriarchy!”

“Fuck the patriarchy!” Robin fell back against the seat, kicking excitedly. “Fuck the fucking patriarchy!”

“Ahhahaha!” Eddie tapped ecstatically on the top of the steering wheel. “Fuck the patriarchy.”

Steve grinned. He couldn’t fight it. It had been too long since they had done something normal. Since they’d been so excited about something other than staying alive. 

Eddie looked absolutely radiant, tangled curls tied back with the black bandana he usually kept in his back pocket, palms loose against the wheel of the Beemer- Steve’s Beemer-with the afternoon sun blazing over him. 

Steve felt something stirring, deep inside of him, like he’d never felt before. A kind of hot longing in the very darkest depths of his stomach. A dissatisfaction that couldn’t be satiated with stolen glances and sleepy exchanges, and he still couldn’t seem to draw his eyes away.

God, Eddie was beautiful.

“What do you say, Stevie?” Eddie asked, startling him out of his trance, and just like that, the feeling was completely gone. 

“Fuck the patriarchy.” Steve mumbled, suddenly remembering where he was, so over-takingly weak with admiration.

The feeling had come back, later that night. Eddie had realized he’d forgotten to tell his Uncle where he was going. “Just want to him to know I’m not skipping town.”

“Do you do that a lot?” Steve had jabbed, elbowing him playfully. 

“If it weren’t for Hopper, I’d be wanted for murder in the state of Indiana, and most people still think I should be. So yeah, I’m always skipping town.”

He was currently leaned back, shoulders against the wall of the phone booth, hips thrust forward in a position that couldn’t possibly be comfortable. 

Steve stood just across the little diner, waiting with Robin while Nancy ordered, and there it was again. The simple inability to tear his sight away, the feeling drawing, dragging him towards Eddie like any more distance between them might tear Steve’s heart straight out of his body. 

“You know,” Robin murmured, following his sight. “I was thinking on the drive down...”

He could hear her voice, but it sounded distant and full of static. Like she wasn’t there with him, rather, she was over the radio in a different town. “Hmm?” He forced out, because he knew she was talking, but he just couldn’t seem to understand any of it. 

“He’s gonna say it’s...” She trailed off. 

Steve didn’t ask her what she thought, because he knew that too. The thought was horrifying and awful, and to think of the word she meant was almost enough to kill the ecstasy he was feeling.

He’s gonna say it’s love.

He never called it what it was. 

That was on Steve, and he would have to take the blame for it. Maybe if he hadn’t been so...  afraid, it would’ve lasted longer. Maybe he could’ve fixed things if he had just said it.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be in love with Eddie, that was never the problem. He was just so scared that love was too strong a word, and Steve would fall too fast. It would be Nancy and senior year all over again.

The guilt was awful. To think maybe he could’ve done something to change this... He could usually forget about it long enough to forget why he needed to. 

“There you are.”

Eddie sat in the dark of the Harrington kitchen, knees pulled awkwardly to his chest and wedged under the lip of the table, despite the uncomfortable length of his lanky legs, white mug clasped in his hands. “Uh, yeah... I, uh, made some tea, I hope that’s okay.”

Steve smiled softly at the sight of him, wrapped in one of Steve’s blankets in Steve’s kitchen drinking Steve’s tea. “Yeah, you can have whatever you want. Don’t tell Henderson that, though. One time he drank an entire gallon of milk while he was over.”

Eddie laughed once, but it fell flat, forced out. He took a sip of his drink to hide his face. 

Steve lowered his voice to a hoarse whisper and leaned against the counter, all traces of humor gone. “Do you hurt? You need some Advil?”

Eddie glanced down at his stomach- scratches and tears slowly healing into thick, white scars- with a disinterest as if he’d forgotten they were there. “No, I’m alright.”

“Another nightmare?”

The silence was answer enough.

“I told you to wake me up,” Steve murmured, crossing to stand over him and smooth some of his frizzy curls down. “That’s why you’re here.”

“I thought I did.” He leaned into his hand against his forehead. “That’s why you came down, isn’t it?” 

“No, actually. I woke up because I’m starving and then you weren’t there. Do you... wanna talk about it? The nightmare, I mean.”

“Not particularly, no.”

“That’s fine. I’m happy to listen if you change your mind.” He crossed back across the kitchen to open the fridge. “You want a snack? We’ve got string cheese, apples, Cheetos... popcorn, Eggos...”

“...Steve?”

He turned around, abandoning the idea of food, because Eddie sounded so desperate and unlike himself, it scared him. “Yeah? What can I get you?”

Eddie swallowed to keep his voice from breaking, but it did anyway. “Will... Will you just hold me?”

Steve nodded intently. He left the fridge open, forgetting its existence entirely, and strode quickly to meet him halfway, pulling him against himself as tightly as he could. 

Eddie roped his arms around his neck, blanket slipping from his shoulders, pulling himself in so he could rest his head on Steve’s shoulder, and Steve tightened his arms around his waist to close the space and rub lightly across the base of Eddie’s shoulder blades. 

He didn’t cry, even though they both expected him to. The worst of it was wet, shuddery breaths against Steve’s collarbone and fingers locked in his hair like he’d fall apart if he didn’t hold on. 

Steve’s hot exhale danced over his ear and across the back of his neck. “It’s okay…You’re gonna be okay…”

“Don’t let me go.” Eddie moaned miserably. 

“I’m not gonna let you go. I won’t let go of you.”

The only way to describe the way they held onto each other was desperately. They clung to each other in the dark, like it was the only way they could possibly be safe from everything.

“I’m not gonna let you go.”

Steve’s hands slipped under the hem of Eddie’s shirt, wanting, needing to be closer, and his fingertips brushed softly over where the scars lanced across his stomach and dipped down onto his hips below his waistband. Even though he was gentle, there were still places that would make Eddie suck in a sharp breath if Steve touched them. 

Eddie had stopped letting him look at them, the scabs and the scars, a month or so after Steve had stopped cleaning and bandaging them twice a week. He suspected Eddie hated them. Hated the way they were permanently there marring his skin. But Steve was relieved, running his hands over the smooth, uneven skin, to know they had healed okay. They weren’t nearly as bad as he’d imagined they would be.

The fridge started to whine, lamenting the fact that it had been neglected with its contents exposed, but the sound blurred into the background noise of the house. All Steve could hear was Eddie’s breathing, ragged and stressed, like he couldn’t come to grips with everything. He probably couldn’t; it had taken Steve years, and he still got upset over things that seemed stupid- needles, blindfolds, too-loud clocks...

Eddie’s fingers relaxed slowly, releasing the tight grip in Steve’s hair so he could draw his arms back into himself and pull away. “I’m sorry. Sorry. That was weird. Sorry.”

Steve loosened his hands from around his waist but didn’t let go, rubbing the hem of his shirt between his fingers. “It... wasn’t.” The hesitation was in surprise; it didn’t feel strange at all to be so close to him, even though he’d never even held Nancy like this, and he had been in love with her.

“You don’t... have to be nice...” Eddie said, attempting to extract himself again, flushed and embarrassed. “I should probably go. Like, home. My uncle’s probably worried.”

“I said I wasn’t going to let you go.”

Steve wasn’t sure where that had come from, even as it left his own mouth, because he was acutely aware of everywhere his body was pressed against Eddie’s and he could barely breathe, but it seemed to work, because Eddie stopped pushing away from him and relaxed back into his hold.

“Are you okay?” He murmured, pulling his hand from under his shirt and tucking some of Eddie’s hair away. 

Eddie sighed exhaustedly and muttered, “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be fine.”

“I mean right now. I know you will be. I’ll make sure of that. But are you okay right now, at this moment?”

He shrugged. 

“Stay,” Steve whispered. “I know you want to run, but you said you wouldn’t do that anymore. Stay with me. Okay?”

“...Okay.” Eddie agreed softly. 

“Okay.” He echoed, to make it seem final. He pushed the hair off Eddie’s forehead and kissed him lightly at the tense spot where his eyebrows met before he realized what he was doing. He pulled back quickly, eyes wide, yanking his hands awkwardly into his chest, folded into loose fists.

“That was weird. Sorry.”

Eddie grinned softly. “It wasn’t.”

 Steve opened his mouth to say something, but there weren’t any words and before he could come up with anything, Eddie traced along his jaw and up across his cheek, pushing up on his toes to lean in. 

He bit his bottom lip tentatively and stared at Steve with the doe eyes, waiting for something. Anything. 

“Can I kiss you?”

The feeling was there, begging for them to be close, like their own personal gravity. Even though something tugged at Steve, that he shouldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t ignore the draw between them. Couldn’t fight the agony in being apart...

Steve tipped his head forward and filled the space. 

The first kiss was slow and careful, reserved. Like both of them were waiting for the other to pull away and laugh it off. It didn’t happen though, and the break was gentle and natural. 

Eddie chuckled softly, leaning back against the counter and pulling Steve with him, fingers interlocked against the back of his neck to bring him back towards him and cover his grin with his own.

Steve linked his thumbs under the elastic waistband of Eddie’s sweats. The feeling was burning him, electric under where Eddie’s lips moved against his, where his hands pinched the rough hair on the back of his neck.

Holy shit.

Was this what he had been missing out on for all these months? This taste and this feeling and Eddie. It was all Eddie.

When they finally separated, Steve leaned his forehead against Eddie’s, heavy breath dancing over his face. 

“You okay?” Eddie mumbled, soft enough that it almost hid his concern, but not quite. Did he think Steve was gonna bolt? Where was he going to go, they were in his own damn kitchen.

“Wanted to do that for a long time.” Steve murmured, smiling lightly. 

“You should’ve.” Eddie stole another short kiss. “Coward.”

There was a sort of euphoria between them that couldn’t quite be explained. It wasn’t a drug high sort of euphoria, or even a satiated kind. Maybe it was that they were here, together. At this moment. And somehow, in the expanse of all the time and people on Earth, they had found each other. And, if they were daring enough to say it, they loved each other.

For a long time, they held each other in the dark, laughing and kissing, swaying- almost dancing- around in the yellow light of the long-abandoned refrigerator.

@maya-custodios-dionach and @long-live-taylorswift

*if you wanna be added to the tag list message me! the whole thing is written and i’ll add a chapter every day*

[c4ts4ndstuff]

Chrumblr's May Whump Challenge! Day Three: Carry

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Word count: 1008

I had a hard time with this one, until it suddenly all came pouring out! This is set vaguely in the future when they're pro-heroes. Can be read as Tsu/Izuku but was written platonically. I love their friendship 🥹💕

Izuku had been patrolling, when he crossed paths with Tsu. She was in costume, helping an elderly lady who seemed to have dropped her groceries on the sidewalk. Izuku had jogged over to them, and stooped down to help out. He had been making some conversation with Tsu and the old lady, who had introduced herself as Akamatsu-san, about the meal she was planning to make for her visiting family, when a loud CRACK made the street stutter into silence.

Izuku had jerked up, tomato still in hand, and scanned his surroundings. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Tsu do the same, as she held out an arm in front of Akamatsu-san.

Screams rang out as the ground began to shake.

Tsu, being closer, kept Akamatsu-san from falling and held onto her to help keep her steady.

Izuku frantically looked to find the origin of the noise, eyes widening when he finally found it.

One of the buildings on the street, a two-story building which Izuku vaguely remembered as being notable for being several decades old and not having had a single villain damage it, was falling onto the street.

Izuku flew over there before he think anything else. Eyes searching for the cause, Izuku saw no one suspicious as he got between the building and the road, and used Blackwhip to act as a net, protecting the scrambling civilians below him.

"I'll evacuate anyone inside." Tsu called out to Izuku, hopping through a broken window inside. Izuku grunted as he concentrated on holding the building up.

He could occasionally see Tsu as she helped injured people out of the building, where another hero (Izuku recognized her as Spitfire, a hero just a couple years older than him who could create sparks and fireworks which was really good for temporarily blinding villains, and making signals, and- focus Izuku) who had shown up, would help them get away from under the building.

Eventually, Tsu came out by herself.

"Deku, the building's clear, kero." She ribbited, before hopping over to a couple people who still hadn't gotten out from under the collapsing building, and ushered them away.

Izuku strained as he tried to figure out the best way to let go of the building. He didn't want it causing anymore damage, but the rubble that had slowly been raining down reminded him he didn't have much time to think it through.

When the ground was clear, Izuku floated backwards slowly, as he extended blackwhip. The building came down in short bursts, clumps of bricks falling and crashing to the ground.

Izuku felt his heart stop as a small section of the corner, broke off and bounced off the side of the building, and headed straight towards Akamatsu-san who was leaning against a storefront, to feeble to run.

"Watch out-!" Izuku yelled, desperation in his voice.

Akamatsu-san stumbled backwards against the wall, before Tsu's long pink tongue wrapped around her waist, and gently tossed her towards Spitfire, who caught her and ushered her into the crowd.

Izuku watched in horror as Tsu, from the momentum of throwing Akamatsu san, moved closer to the collapsing building. He tried to use blackwhip to reinforce that side of the building more, but he was already stretching himself thin. He could only watch as rubble fell, heading straight for Tsu.

"Tsu!" Izuku called out, wishing he could reach out to her, but couldn't spare a single tendril of blackwhip. The street around them rumbled, the sound of falling rubble drowned out all other noises, so she probably couldn't hear him anyway but-

It landed.

She wasn't moving.

How could things have gone so wrong, so fast?

Izuku forced himself to focus on lowering the building, pulling it as much as he dared, away from Tsu's prone body.

She has to be okay. Izuku thought desperately.

With a shudder, the building was finally on the ground.

Izuku forced himself to keep an eye on his surroundings, as he ran towards Tsu.

Something had to have caused this,

No villain made their appearance, no cackle, no monologue. Dust clouded the air, and Izuku coughed as he threw himself to his knees in front of Tsu -she's not waking up- and began checking her vitals.

She was alive. Her pulse faint, but there.

Blood pooled under her unconscious body. Izuku felt his stomach sink as he saw it concentrated around her head.

Izuku quickly found the wound on her hand. He was applying pressure to stop the bleeding, when he saw a pair of boots step up to them.

"An ambulance is on the way," Spitfire cut straight to the point, as she crouched down next to Tsu.

"ETA?" Izuku asked, and felt nothing but dread as Spitfire grimaced.

"There was a villain attack twenty minutes south, just before the building collapsed, and it's clogged the streets. It's going to be at least a half hour before they get here."

"That's too long." Izuku said, unable to tear his eyes away from Tsu's face. Her face was pale, and her mouth left open from her tongue sticking out, she hadn't even had enough time to pull it all the way back in before she was hit.

With shaking hands, Izuku brushed her hair off of her face.

You're not supposed to move someone with unknown injuries, Izuku numbly remembered. One wrong move with a neck or back injury, and the person will be left with even worse injuries than before. Their class at UA had been assigned a paper on that years ago.

Tsu would die before the ambulance got here.

He heard Spitfire gasp and start to speak as he gently, oh so carefully, lifted Tsu into his arms. Her head fell against his shoulder, and he shifted until he was sure she was stable in his arms.

Ignoring Spitfire, Izuku used One for All to jump high into the sky, and pushed float to its limits towards the nearest hospital.

Izuku glanced down at Tsu, craddled in his arms.

Please be okay Tsu.

[willow-by-the-brook]

A Glimpse in The River

(this is a repost of some old work. sorry if this isn't to your taste and let me know if you'd like to see more or if you'd prefer to just read my 'poetry'.) (thank you for your valuable time and support❤️❤️.)

Day of the Mirror

The feeling of hitting wet sand while running. 

Your sunlit face tells you it's a hot day out, while the rest of your river-water-covered body tells you it's cold.

Your timid, nervous face looks at you from within the clear river water.

Could this day get any worse?

Maybe it will.

Day of the Self

A large and dark-grey ceiling hangs over a room of three completely white walls. The roof overhead is heavy and hangs directly over the heads of those below. It is lumpy, uneven and covered by a thick veil of perpetual gloom.

The strange thing is, the ceiling, as horrible for a stable structure as it is, continues looming overhead with no sign of ever bursting and ending the misery it is put through, resulting in the very thing causing others grief and disappointment.

You look at the ceiling and try to understand how it came to this situation. You wonder what the damage is and try to look for answers. How much ever you try, the only thing you find is grief. Layers and layers of suffering, misery and soul-emptying loneliness.

The walls feel solid, yet the sense that they could easily be torn down slithers up your feet, creeps up your arms and worms into your mind.

Day of the Odd

Is it possible for everything to seem out of place in an area housing nothing?

Can one feel as though they are getting suffocated by nothingness?

Why should life make its hosts feel like it wants to suck out all forms of reality from the hosts themselves?

A house with nothing to show must have nothing to hide.

Mustn't it...?

Day of Discovery

A house made of only a room with three walls.

A house whose broken fourth wall is unable to keep the house bound together.

A house with a weak base.

A house that has no doors.

A house whose walls are not connected closely with each other.

A house with nothing to show.

Except for an invisible window.

Will the window leave a tiny crack?

Can I hope for some light and warmth in this darkness-ridden world?

Day of Redemption

A small window creaks open in a dark and empty room, allowing a small glimpse of the world outside.

The cracks in the window are no source of hope. Instead, they are the exact opposite. They reveal a meek world filled with unpleasantries. The world they overlook is bleak, meaningless and a world that follows pointless objects in the pursuit of what it calls happiness.

Reform of a specific blind hope is in process. It was mistaken to believe that simply because there is another world out there, it would be better than the one I am subjected to live in.

We were told that there is always a better world out there.

That was a lie.

While looking through the crack in the window, my hands drift over the walls. They feel strange. The walls feel solid and as though they have been up for several years. What lies outside is only a limited, narrow view. The world seems completely empty, apart from a few disappointing, uncaring people pursuing pointless endeavors.

The small and limited room seems immaterial. The room is off-putting, with the way it warps the sense of one's reality. It feels unreal, yet forces you to think it is the only reality you can attach yourself to.

If you don't, you'll just end up going mad. Or at least, that's how you see it.

Break Day

A crack in the walls appears as a pair of deep, loving green eyes peek through. The gap widens further and further. You notice the bearer of the dark green eyes is the one breaking the walls with her sharp glance and strangely gentle-looking hands.

She enters the wide hole and beams at you. She sighs in slight exhilaration. She moves closer to you, grabs hold of your hands and seats you onto one of the most comfortable-feeling armchairs you have sat on in a long time. She seems to conjure it out of thin air. You knew the chair wasn't there previously.

This feels good. The chair feels good. The air feels good. Her gentle grasp feels good.

You see the tiniest sliver of sunlight. You smile to yourself, one of the first smiles you have had in six years. You finally feel some hope for yourself.

You can do this. Maybe, just maybe, the window leads to somewhere good.

Present Day

"Aris? What are you doing here?"

"I tried to do the only thing I could. Escape. Leave the torture I was subjected to and fade away."

"But why? Why like this?"

"I don't know, Wisteria! It was the only way I could think of!"

"You know there was another way. You know there-"

"Wisteria, stop. I'm tired. I've been tortured for long enough now. Let me get just a little bit of peace in my sleep. We'll talk afterwards."

"(sigh) Alright. Take your rest. You deserve it. I'm staying here, though, and you aren't going to stop me.

17 years ago

A cosy cottage by the hills. A clear lake with little tulips and lilies. Little children running about the lake, all with about as much joy as you'd expect.

Could you think of a sadder and more painful sight?

A little child pokes her dear and delicate tulip head out the cottage window. She follows the children with dedicated and hopeful eyes, wishing desperately to be a part of their group.

She rushes out of the room into the kitchen. She chirps up, with her little baby voice,

"Maman, puis-je sortir jouer avec ces filles?"[1]

Her Maman smiles at her.

"Oui, ma cherie."[2]

The young cherie rushes out of her house, screaming as wildly as all the other children. Lost in joy, she has left the earthly world behind and ascended to a higher realm, that of Euphoria.

She rushes out with her newfound joy, experiencing it all in one go, unaware that that will be the last time she shares joy like that in at least 3 decades.

All the young children bounce about with joy, their delighted shrieks filling the meadows with pleasant birdsong. All of them jump into the lake and swim about for at least an hour, splashing with all the grace of a seagull looking for food.

None of them notice the smell of smoke piercing the air around them. Not until it's too late.

The little girl poked her head out of the lake to look at her Maman, but her eyes could only see flames licking the land around her. Frightened, she tries throwing some water outside. The flares die quickly, but she is still far too late.

The poor cherie rushes out of the lake, screaming, 'Maman!' No reply comes.

It never shall come.

Fearing the worst, she finds a pail nearby, fills it with water and runs to her house. The smell of smoke alerts her, and she throws the water, managing to put the fire out.

She rushes inside, hoping to find her Maman struggling to breathe but still alive. Nothing but a bit of her Maman's apron is one of the only survivors.

She does not make noise. She tries to will her legs to move, but they are frozen to the spot. She melts down and sits amidst the pile of ashes. She tightens her hold around the piece of cloth.

Unbeknownst to her, she has not escaped scratch-free. A part of her has burnt away in the flames, an essential component. In fact, it is the only part that ever mattered.

That part is a capacity to feel joy. Nay, it is the boldness to feel pure glee. And, by the time she regains that part of her, she will have been too late. She will have missed out on the chance to rejoice in the best parts of life. But she must know that there is hope for her. There is a cure for all afflictions and, no matter how late it comes, it will come, and it will heal her.

Present Day

Everything became hazy. My mind was heavy as is. The hospital beds were uncomfortable to sleep on, but my exhausted person did not care. I was just beginning to doze asleep when I heard Wisteria's worried and caring voice, barely a whisper now, say, "Thank you so much for asking me to check in on her. Poor girl, she's gone through so much. I'm glad she was able to get out alive."

The last thing I heard before dozing off was Wisteria's sobs as she grasped my hand tight. She managed to stop crying for a while, simply to tell me, "You shouldn't have gone through that. I promise that from now on, wherever you go, you won't go alone. I'm there with you every step of the way."

I give her a little smile. I forced my eyes open and managed to get some words out.

"Wisteria?" "Yes?" "I love your dark green eyes." "(shh) Save that for when we get home, silly!"

She smiles at me, pulls me toward her and clutches me tight toward herself. She holds me like that for some time, and I fall asleep in her arms.

It has been a while since I have felt such security, warmth and love.

It feels good.

(translation: [1] Maman, could I play with those girls? [2] Of course, my dear.)

[wompwomp4]

i wish we could go back to being kids, Leah.

that’s not to say that i want to re-live those years; cold, wet, angry years. i’m saying i want to re-live you. i want to gather up those summer/autumn/winter/spring days in poulsbo, put them safe on my shelves where i can remember them.

my memories come and go, but i can’t forget walking through your neighborhood (always your neighborhood, not mine. i used to joke that if you came within a ten foot radius of my house, you'd explode), past the worn houses with their overcrowded decks and equally overgrown lawns.

past the house with the fenced-in yard and the yapping dog, rusted car in the driveway. down the hill, pocked with pot holes and muddy grass, dead trees that will be heavy with crab apples and too much pollen in three months.

down to the street, make a right, echoes of heated conversations carried in the breeze. four blocks to the next neighborhood, with it’s shiny new houses- fresh coats of paint, artificial gardens, and security cameras watching us warily from their perches in windows, blinds drawn tightly.

something about them used to make me so angry. i made an effort to pass by with as much disturbance as possible. i was so loud. i still am. always have been. i think you know, Leah, that it’s my way of forcing my presence into the world, of demanding not to be heard, but to be listened to. ‘don’t ignore (forget) me!’

you’re the only person i know that can love me like this– loud and mean and broken.

it doesn’t take long to leave the houses and their people, with their range rovers and organic granola, behind.

now we cross the street, half running because people come flying at this turn. we’re giggling at the same jokes we’ve been telling for years when we meet the new strip of sidewalk. we hurry down the block, towards the pizza/tattoo/coffee shops all squeezed into one building, the one with the bench (you know). turn the corner, and we’re home.

we invade the stores of downtown poulsbo, with their overpriced antiques and mass-produced 'rustic' home decor. make our rounds; the bead store (im sorry), the bakery, pass the shitty coffee shop on the way to the pocket-sized book store, the dainty stationary store, the diner and the seafood place, sometimes down to Mora's. businesses that had to learn to accept us.

we make up stupid names for some of these stores, ones i still can't let go of them after all this time. leave most of them with nothing, borderline harass the locals (mostly me).

always, we wind up at Cups, share a mexican brownie after pretending to read the menu. sometimes, we get milkshakes. sit outside if the weather is feeling generous. usually, it isn't.

we're here for hours, suspended in these moments. i yearn to feel them again. i can see your face so clearly. we were so young, the weight of it all wasn't quite as heavy as it is now.

downtown poulsbo isn’t the same anymore, but neither are we. we grew out of it, and it grew away from us. but i still see you in those stores, on the pier breathing in sea salt, down the sidewalk. i still see you on the hilly walk home, illuminated by the dying sunlight. in the abandoned house and the barn, at copper top and metro market, and the thicket of trees in front of Sakai.

i'm lucky now if i get to see you once a year, but in my mind, i always see you, and i love you. you are otherworldly, then and now.