#so shoot. ive exhausted my brain

[hughjackmansbicep]

The Seamstress

Contains: Logan Howlett X F!Reader

Summary: Youre a seamstress and he seems to have an endless supply of holey clothes....

Wordcount: 1.2k

Warnings: None :D

a/n: haiiiiii ive always loved this trope in fics !!! tehe!! srry for not writing much recently i got fired from my job LOL anywayssss... i was listening to the smiths writing this unrelated but related.

Most days bled together, the same mundane routine playing out in front of you each day. Wake up, go to work, go home, eat takeout, and pass out to some soap opera. Currently, the highlight of your life was finding out what was going to happen next on The Days of Our Lives. You were a seamstress in the middle of Manhattan; you owned a small shop off 64th, and although you were living out your dream, nothing excited you anymore. Every task felt exhausting; you couldn't even find passion in sewing anymore. That was until he stumbled into your shop.

“Hi, yeah, I was wondering if you'd be able to sew this up for me.” He grumbled, holding up what appeared to be some yellow and blue jumpsuit. You'd almost forgotten to respond, completely captivated by his sheer beauty. His gorgeous face, chiseled body, kitty-like hair, and you can't forget the unusual yet totally working for him mutton chops. “U-um, ahem, yeah, I totally could.” You manage to choke out, reaching for the clothing item. “How long do you reckon it'll take?” You examine the clothing carefully; it's decorated with rips and holes everywhere. He's lucky if I can get this finished by the end of the week, “Tomorrow.” Your mouth moves quicker than your brain can. “Cool, I'll come by at 10? Is that alright?” He asks, slowly backing out of the shop, his eyes never leaving you. ‘10am? I can't begin to do that either; I mean, I wouldn't get to sleep tonight’. “Yep! See you at 10!” Cure that mouth of yours; you give him a smile and an awkward wave as he makes his way out the door.

You blow your breath out as if you'd been holding it the entire time, sinking down into your chair. You silently cursed at yourself for agreeing to such a stupid timeframe, but this meant you could binge Days of Our Lives tonight, so maybe it wasn't half bad.

The rest of the day went just as you expected. A couple hems, a few cinches—nothing out of the ordinary apart from the comic book cosplay you agreed to revive back to life. It was currently 3 o’clock in the morning; you'd been sitting there sewing the garment for 7 hours. Honestly, you'd been making great time; you were so close to finishing, maybe 20 stitches left total. Somewhere between the last stitch and a doctor getting slapped, you'd passed out on your living room floor.

You'd awoken to the feeling of your feline licking your cheek, causing you to immediately shoot up off the floor. Your eyes frantically searching for a clock, the power Must’ve gone out sometime around 5 in the morning because that's all you saw flashing back at you on the stove. In a frenzy, you started throwing random clothes on, praying they'd match, shoving the costume in a garment bag, and running out the door. Thats when you finally looked down at your phone, seeing the time read 10:03, “God damnit.” You whined under your breath. Your shop was only a couple blocks away, but that was still a 15-minute walk, so you sprinted. You probably looked like a complete lunatic, but you couldn't care less right now. The incredibly hot customer probably waiting outside your doors was the utmost important thing on your mind.

Dripping in sweat and hyperventilating as you turned the corner to where your shop was, you saw him just as you thought you would. Leaning up against the door, one arm crossed over his torso as he took a drag from his cigar with his other. God, he looked heavenly, and you... Well, maybe not your best day, but definitely not your worst. “Hey, sorry I'm late.” You breathed out, hands resting on your knees as you caught your breath. “But I've got your thingy.” You hold the garment bag up; he just furrows his eyebrows at you, cocking his head to the side. His silence makes you feel more embarrassed than you already do. You get up to unlock your doors, ushering him to follow you inside.

You check him out at the register; the only words being exchanged were the cost of the repairs and where he can tap his card. He walked out with a smile and a nod, a soft ‘Thanks’ escaping his lips before the door shut. You throw your head in your hands, feeling shame wash over you. You were hoping and praying he was going to leave his number on the receipt, but obviously he did not. I mean, why would you have had him waiting and showed up looking like a complete mess? Not very good looks. You simply had to chop it up as a loss and return back to the mundaneness of your life.

The very next morning, though, he was here again, this time holding an old brown jacket. He'd said there was a small hole in the pocket he wanted fixed. This time it only took you all 20 minutes. You asked him to wait upfront as you brought the jacket to the back to repair it. When you returned, you checked him out the same as before, and he left exactly the same as before. This became an everyday routine for the two of you. Every day he'd walk in with some worn-out article of clothing asking you to stitch it up; you always obliged, even if the clothes looked and smelled like they came from 1987. You always did wonder how this guy had so many ripped-up clothes just lying around, and why wouldn't he just bring them in all at once?

This charade had been going on for 2 weeks now when you finally decided to break from your usual script of ‘thank you, come again’. “Why is everything you own torn apart? Is everything okay back home?” You asked as he slipped his card into the machine. You could see the heat rising to his cheeks as he tried to hide a smirk creeping its way on his face. “You want me to be honest with you?” He looked up at you, pursing his lips together in a thin line. You nodded your head, waiting for him to continue, “I honestly thought you were gorgeous when I first walked into your shop.” Now your cheeks started burning red as your eyes went wide. “So every day since then I head into Goodwill and find anything I can with a hole in it so I can find an excuse to come see you.” This was the first time you'd ever seen this man avoid eye contact with you. You couldn't find your words as your throat had gone dry. He was into you??? And here you were this whole time thinking you ruined your shot (and that he was homeless, but you weren't going to tell him that). 

"Well, say something.” He exasperated, snapping you out of your daze. “I honestly don't know what to say; I’m shocked. I get off at 6 if y’know... You wanted to grab something to eat?” You offer awkwardly, smiling through the pain of how anxious you sounded. He looks up to you finally meeting your gaze, a soft smile painted on his lips. “Ill be here to pick you up at 6 doll.” He grabs your hand, planting a gentle kiss on your knuckle. He walked out the door, leaving you in utter shock and denial for the rest of your shift.

hi ps u can always request me shtuff to write! :3

[tortillamastersblog]

♕ No Matter What - Part 15 | Lena Luthor ♕

Pairing: Lena Luthor x reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, injuries and some swearing

Previous Part | Next Part | Masterlist

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I slip in and out of consciousness for what feels like an eternity until an explosion close by makes me flinch involuntarily.

My eyes snap open and my brain tries to make sense of all the blurry things I’m seeing.

There’s flashes of light, muffled shouts and gunshots and for a second I think I’m overseas again.

Then, however a pair of warm hands cups my cheeks and turns my head.

I blink rapidly until a pair of green eyes comes into focus above me.

“Lena.” I gasp, the metallic taste of blood in my mouth almost making me gag.

The young woman has tears in her eyes and her face is scrunched up in pain.

“Don’t say anything,” she urged and when she lets go of one of my cheeks to press her hand against my side I yelp weakly.

My shaking hands try to pry her’s off my waist, but she pleads, “No, stop. I’m trying to help,” while my blood seeps through her fingers.

“It hurts.” I managed to get out and Lena’s guilty eyes meet mine again.

“I know,” she croaks. “I’m sorry.”

Around us, I still hear shouting and gunshots and I let my head roll to the side to see what’s going on.

Several heavily armed figures are swarming the place with their guns at the ready, shooting occasionally.

My eyes land on an unmoving body nearby and I feel disappointment wash over me when I realize it’s not Lex but his goon, Otis Graves.

There’s a pool of blood around his head and I’m assuming he’s been shot.

“Y/N, hey,” Lena’s voice makes me tear my eyes off the body. “Stay with me.”

I try to smile but a cough racking cough shakes my entire body and I feel more blood run down the side of my mouth.

“Lex. . .?” I ask weakly and Lena moves her one hand from my cheek down to my neck, tracing her thumb over my skin in soothing circles.

“They’ll get him,” she says with a watery smile.

Good. At least one good thing came out of this.

I don’t know when or how she got here, and how she managed to get help this quickly, but I couldn’t care less about any of that.

All that matters is that she’s okay and that Lex won’t be able to get to her anymore.

I feel the fight leave my body and let out a shallow breath, allowing my head to loll to the side again.

My eyes begin fluttering, but before I get to close them, Lena’s hand is back on my cheek, forcing me to look at her.

“No, hey! Keep your eyes open. You hear me?!” she’s crying softly and I want to wipe away her tears but my arm won’t move. She sits up straighter and looks around frantically, shouting for help.

My ears begin ringing and my breaths are coming out shorter and more shallow.

This must be how Noah felt, I think, remembering how I used to be in Lena’s position, trying desperately to stop the blood from seeping out of Noah’s chest.

The sound of his rattling and gurgling breath still haunts me to this day and if I could, I’d switch places with Lena just so she doesn’t have to feel like I felt back then.

But then again, I wouldn’t want her to have been shot, so I’m glad it’s me on the ground and not her.

My eyes flutter again and a wave of exhaustion washes over me and I can’t help but let them close.

Just for a few minutes, I tell myself.

Lena’s warm touch lulls me to sleep even more and the last thing I hear before drifting off is her desperate plea of,“No! Please. . . You told me you’d stay with me, no matter what. Remember?! Y/N, please.”

When my eyes blink open, the first thing that comes to mind is that I’m dead because I’m warm and comfortable. Then, however I look, seeing that I’m in a hospital room.

I’m exhausted beyond belief, but the pain is completely gone and when I glance at the bag on the IV pole next to my bed labeled Morphine I know why.

It’s dark outside, I realize when my eyes drift to the large window before sweeping over the rest of my surroundings.

The room is dark as well, but because of all the monitors and machines next to my bed it’s not as dark as outside.

A small body, slumped over in a chair next to me catches my attention and it’s then that I feel the person’s hand in my own.

Oh shit. . .

“Rubes,” I whispered as I squeeze her little hand. “Hey, wake up.”

I don’t know what time it is, but it must be late if she fell asleep and if she’s here, Sam can’t be far either.

But where is Lena?

I can’t imagine how worried they must have been and I’m sure I’ll hear all about it later when Sam returns and Ruby’s out of earshot.

Speaking of the devil, the door to my room slowly opens and in steps Sam, dressed in pajama pants and a hoodie.

She’s holding what looks like a cup of coffee and she moves slowly so as to not make too much noise.

Even in the dark, I can make out the circles under her eyes and I feel horrible, knowing she probably hasn’t slept a wink.

She goes to sit on the vacant chair next to Ruby’s, the girl still fast asleep, but then her eyes connect with mine and she shrieks, dropping the coffee before slapping her hand over her mouth.

“Y/N!” Her eyes tear up and she rushes to hug me.

Ruby startles from the sudden movement, whining at being woken up so abruptly but the she realizes what’s going on and throws her arms around my neck as well.

“Hey, guys,” I whisper as they both cry against me. “It’s alright. I’m going to be okay.”

Sam shakes her head and pulls back while Ruby continues to cling to me. “You don’t know that!” she hisses with tears streaming down her cheek. “Have you seen the state you’re in?! The doctors say it’s a miracle you’re still alive.”

I frown anxiously take her hand. “I’m sorry, Sam. That’s not what I— Shit. . . I’m sorry.”

Sam sighs and squeezes my hand, using her free hand to wipe at her tears. “No, please. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap at you. You just woke up and — We were so worried about you. I can’t believe Lex—“

“You know what happened?” I cut her off with wide eyes.

She nods. “Lena told us. She called while you were in surgery.”

Lena. . . My Lena.

“Where is she?” I ask quietly. “Is she okay?”

Lex’s words stung more than I’d like to admit and the fact that she’s not here makes me worry that he was right about everything.

I am a nobody and I wouldn’t be surprised if she thinks she deserves better than what I have to offer. Which isn’t a lot, let’s not forget.

I’m not poor per se, but Lex is right. I’m nowhere near as wealthy as the Luthor family and if we’re going by their standards, I am poor.

Oh, and not to mention my fucked up family situation and the mountain of trauma I bring with me everywhere I go.

“Hey,” Sam squeezes my hand again, bringing me back to reality. She’s watching me with curiosity, knowing I tend to get into my own head. “She’s okay. I sent her home. She was exhausted. She wanted to stay with you, but she almost fell off the chair in her sleep.“

Ruby chuckles against my chest, clearly amused by the memory and I can’t help but smile as well.

Okay, so maybe Lex was wrong after all.

But what if—

“Stop it.”

I raise my eyes to meet Sam’s glare.

“What?!” I defend weakly, but she just raises an eyebrow.

“I can practically hear you overthinking,” she says with a deadpan voice which makes me roll my eyes.

“Okay, okay.” I give in, running the hand that’s not holding Sam’s over Ruby’s back. “It’s kind of creepy how you always know.”

Sam laughs and tilts her head adorably. “It’s not creepy. I just know you.”

I huff, not knowing what else to say and close my eyes for a moment.

The morphine might be working overtime to stop me from feeling any pain, but it’s also making me feel drowsy and with the comforting weight of Ruby’s head on my chest I feel like falling asleep.

“Y/N?” Sam whispers after a moment, and I force myself to open my eyes again.

“Hmm?”

“Tired?” she asks softly and I nod. “Okay. We’ll let you get some rest then. . . Unless you want us to stay?”

I shake my head and press a kiss to Ruby’s forehead. “No, it’s okay. I can’t imagine how tired you guys must be.”

Sam squeezes my hand one last time before letting go and prying a half-asleep Ruby off of.

The young girl whines at the loss of contact, but once she wakes up completely, she lets Sam guide her out of the room.

“We’ll stop by again tomorrow, alright?” Sam asks as she’s already halfway out the door.

“Please do,” I say with a smile, sending them off with a wave before finally turning over and closing my eyes again.

The next time I wake up is when a doctor, Doctor Mike, comes into my room to check on me.

By now, the sun has come up, bathing my room in a soft orange light and I just lean back as he goes to check all my bandages and bruises.

He tells me I have a few cracked ribs from where the baseball bat hit my side, and a sprained shoulder.

He also tells me I had some internal bleeding from when Lex shot me and kicked me in the stomach, but they managed to fix everything during surgery.

“Now, the only thing we have to keep a close eye on is your leg,” he says, once he’s done examining my stitches.

“My leg?” I frown. As far as I know the only injuries either of my legs sustained are a couple of scrapes and bruises from when I got knocked off my bike.

“Yes,” Doctor Mike says with a grimace. “Once we dial back the painkillers, you should feel a burning or tingling sensation run down the side of either just your left leg or both of your legs.”

He watches me closely for a reaction, but I don’t react which prompts him to continue explaining.

“The bullet grazed your lower spine,” he says. “We know there is some nerve damage, but we can’t know how extensive it is until you’re completely off any and all pain medication.”

I gulp and clench my hands into fists, only now noticing the bruises on my wrists where my hands were chained together. “So am I going to be stuck in a wheelchair for the rest of my life?”

Doctor Mike shakes his head. “No, no definitely not, but it is possible that even after physical therapy your leg or legs won’t ever feel and function the same as before.”

I swallow the growing lump in my throat and press the heels of my hands against my eyes.

“For now,” Doctor Mike continues softly after a beat of silence, “You should focus on resting and letting your body recover though. We’ll worry about everything else after.”

I don’t say anything and just continue to press my hands against my eyes.

There’s nothing I could possibly say right now because I’m still processing.

“I-I’ll give you some space,” Doctor Mike says after quite some time. “If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask for me.”

Silence.

Then, the sound of the door opening and closing confirms that he has left.

I drop my hands into my lap and bend my head, no longer holding back my sobs until I pass out once again, exhausted.

“Oh, my poor baby. . .”

My mom’s voice reaching my ears makes me open my eyes slowly.

I look to my right where it came from, thinking I might have just imagined it, but then my gaze lands on her sitting on the chair by my bed.

To my surprise, she’s not alone. Next to her is my dad and behind the two of them, standing with a nervous smile on her face, is Harper.

My dad looks paler and thinner than the last time I saw him, but it’s him nonetheless.

I clench my jaw, ready for a screaming match even though I just woke up, but then he suddenly starts. . .crying?

He grabs my hand and squeezes it between his own and bends his head in shame.

My mom and Harper watch wordlessly, though the sympathetic look in their eyes makes me soften as well, even if it’s just the tiniest bit.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, his voice strained. “I- I fucked up, Y/N. So, so badly. I hurt you because I was hurt. I was so. . .fucking hurt. . . but I know that’s no excuse for how I treated you. I wanted to reach out sooner. . . The guilt was eating me up on the inside and I thought— I thought I already lost one of my kids. I can’t lose the other one, too. I don’t want to lose you.”

That’s all I’ve wanted to hear ever since he kicked me out a little over a year ago, but what is it they say, sometimes words can be just a little too late.

Coward!

I pull my hand out of his and cradle it against my chest as if his touch burns.

He looks up with tears in his eyes and when his eyes meet mine, I can see the realization that I’m not forgiving him on his face.

“Y/N. . .” My mom tries to intervene, but my dad cuts her off with a sad smile.

“Don’t,” he says quietly. “It’s okay. I-I’m going to wait in the car.”

My mom looks between the two of us with a conflicted frown, but before she can object my dad’s already on his feet.

He sends me a tight lipped smile that I don’t return before leaving the room with slumped shoulders.

It’s looks pathetic, and I wonder if that’s what I looked like when he kicked me out.

Harper hesitantly sits down on the now vacant chair and after a few minutes of awkward small talk the tension between the three of us disappears.

My mom and Harper both fawn over me, telling me how worried they’ve been and saying how they found out about what happened when they turned on the news.

Apparently Kara, who was still at Lena’s when Lex called, filmed everything with her phone and started a livestream on the CatCo website.

Law enforcement was called immediately and Lena being the genius she is, traced Lex’s call back to our location outside of the city.

She and Alfred followed the police to the warehouse and went in after the building was breached and Otis Graves was shot.

It turns out Lex was arrested without incident after he tried to make a run for it and is now in police custody with another attempted murder charge to his name.

They’re also going to trial him for blackmailing Lena and kidnapping me which will most definitely earn him a spot in a high security prison in the desert.

My mom and Harper stay for about two hours before leaving, seeing that I’m still struggling to stay awake for more than a handful of hours.

They leave behind a bouquet of flowers and small teddy bear that joins Sam’s and Ruby’s stuffed koala on the windowsill which they bring with them when they visit me a couple hours later.

Kara, Winn and James also stop by over the course of the day, checking in with me and showing me all the news article about the event before leaving again with the promise of returning soon.

As it’s nearing dinner time, my windowsill now full of flowers and get well cards, I can’t help but worry about Lena.

She’s the only one that hasn’t come to see me yet and because Sam’s not here to stop my overthinking, my thoughts begin to spiral.

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Uh oh, where’s Lena 👀. . .??

Tag list: @nerethos @orange15quote @nuianced-tck-enby @autorasexy @unexpected-character @nothisismax @wandatasha @rosea-reginae

PSA about the tag list:

If I can’t find your blog when I try to tag you, I will reply to your comment asking to be tagged and tell you that you’re account is hidden and that you can’t be tagged.

If, from that point onwards, you don’t change your settings and I still can’t find you when trying to tag you in the next part, you will be removed from the tag list and I won’t try tagging you again in future parts.

I’m not trying to be mean or anything, but this has happened a few times now and I don’t have the time or energy to reply to your comments multiple times, telling you to change your settings.

[larkspyrr]

chapter iv — i'll use you as a focal point (wc. 5k)

prev — masterlist / ao3 — next

reblogs are appreciated!

You groaned, a noise that you were fairly certain rose from the very depths of hell itself to give life to your marrow-deep exhaustion.

From somewhere to your right, you could hear the duke laugh, a sound distinctly shit-eating. He then leaned over you and into your line of sight, causing you to squint to try and make out his face against the backdrop of the obnoxiously bright golden skylight far above.

"How you doing down there?" he asked, a smug, gleeful grin to match his laughter tugging at each corner of his mouth.

You grimaced by way of an answer.

Wriothesley reached his hand down to you, looking more chipper than he had any right to. You fought back the urge to slap it away in a petty display of childishness which the only remaining functional portion of your brain recognized was undeserved, no matter how many spars he had won in the last two hours. However, it turns out the majority of your muscles no longer quite wanted to respond to your mental commands, so you accepted the lift, letting your palm fall heavily into his grip. He pulled you up roughly; his warm, calloused hand tight around yours as you stumbled back onto your feet. He took a second to make sure your balance had fully returned before he released you.

"That was invigorating," he said, breathless and windswept in an infuriatingly charming sort of way. The man was not nearly as affected by exertion as he should have been — according to you, anyway. You were certain you hadn't been that much of a pushover. "Well done."

You grunted, surely the very picture of nobility, silently preening at the praise you hadn't known you'd been hoping for. Every fiber of your body felt like frayed thread — but your mind was buzzy and alive.

Everything about the ring was as exciting as it was new. You'd been taken to the limits of your abilities and then ushered past the threshold, again and again, but you'd loved every moment of it; every loss, every clip you weren't able to dodge in time, every rare instance where you were able to clip Wriothesley right back.

There was something electrifying about exchanging blows, trying to anticipate your partner's next move whilst planning your own. About testing the boundaries of your abilities, your strength and dexterity, about making decisions in less time than it took to blink. It dug its fingers into you, created a hunger that you'd never experienced before, something primal and unfiltered and thrilling.

Suddenly, you were in perfect understanding as to how the Pankration Ring had become such a staple for the residents of the Fortress. You were fairly certain you now had a better understanding of the duke himself, too, having seen how he teaches — thorough and patient and kind — and, maybe more importantly, having seen how he fights — with power and grace and dignity and a ferocity that might have frightened you if you'd never seen the warmth he kept safely hidden behind his cool facade.

Boxing went against everything you'd ever learned at every ball and in every etiquette class and at every overstated, vacuous dining table — it was brutal and untamed and utterly lacking the propriety you'd learned to wear like armor, as though your composure was all you'd need in order to weather a world that wanted only to see you fail. It awakened an instinct that you had never been allowed to even acknowledge, let alone encouraged to follow. It stripped you down, scrubbed you raw, and then built you back up again, shiny and new.

You couldn't wait to come back.

Instead of giving voice to any of that — you had a reputation to uphold, after all — you opted to exhale roughly, shaking out a foot. "I can't feel my legs."

"Good," Wriothesley chirped merrily, slapping you on the shoulder. You gasped, pitching forward. The duke's eyes wrinkled at the corners, watching you straighten and shoot him the dirtiest look you could muster. "And don't try to fool me — I can tell you loved it. Now go shower and get your fancy stuff back on. I'm starving. To death, in fact."

You sighed but obeyed, your soul answering to the promise of a cool shower and hot food. Stretching your overtaxed limbs, you made your way back to the locker room, Molly trailing swiftly behind, chattering away at a mile a minute, seemingly almost as energized as the duke after your series of bouts. She was carrying your dress in her hands, freshly laundered and folded and smelling far too lovely for it to belong anywhere near a prison, let alone a boxing ring.

"And you were just wonderful," Molly was saying, smiling widely. "Frankly, I know you're no stranger to sparring with Miss Clorinde, but that was always with swords so I didn't have high expectations for you when it came to boxing."

You huffed. "Wow. Thanks," you drawled.

"Oh, don't be that way, miss, you know what I meant," she said easily, a lazy wave of one of her hands. She nearly dropped your dress onto the locker room floor but saved it with a wobbly oof, slapping her free hand back under the neat pile. She trotted on, unaffected. "I can't be blamed for having doubts! Besides, you blew me away."

You breathed a laugh. "I didn't win even once, Molly," you told her, untying your boots.

"Not today!" she gushed, nearly bouncing on her feet. "But His Grace has been doing this for years and you still managed to keep up, even if you didn't win! I wager it's only a matter of time before your training sessions are more evenly matched."

You smiled, a hopeful little flicker of pride settling in your chest.

A quick shower, a rote redressing, and a tidal wave of chatter later, you reemerged from the locker room, looking and smelling fresh, hoping that the stiffness in your limbs wouldn't betray your secret training session from behind the haze of lavender-scented detergent. You'd had Molly's help putting yourself back together and she had given her seal of approval, so you couldn't have looked too worse for wear.

The duke turned away from the ring, fastening the usual gloves back onto his scarred hands, eyes meeting yours. He grinned, wide and wolfish. He had changed into a fresh suit, dark and grayscale like his usual, burgundy tie once more secured around his neck, dangling pointlessly and crookedly in front of an indecently undone series of buttons. An unprofessional and deliberate stylistic choice for sure, dishevelment juxtaposed by all the accoutrements you'd associate with a man in his position, in a way which was clearly meant to illustrate his status while still embodying the spirit of rebellion. You had respect for that. So much that was familiar to you, reimagined to suit his own desires. You were positive it must piss Thibeault off to no end. You were jealous of the debonair audacity. Maybe even a little appreciative.

From an aesthetic standpoint, at least, you were certainly... appreciative.

You shook your head, banishing that particular train of thought.

"You two hungry?" he asked, offering his arm to you. Woefully, it was once again concealed behind his shirt sleeves.

You shook your head again for good measure. Clearly the first had not been powerful enough.

"Naturally," you said, twining your arm with his. "You also promised me tea."

"A woman after my own heart," he said in a conspiratorial undertone to Molly. She giggled. "Let's all depart then. I know just the place. Even if it is the only place. You remember the Coupon Cafeteria, don't you?"

"Victory has put you in a good mood."

"I'm always in a good mood."

Side by side, you made your way back through the halls surrounding the Pankration Ring to the elevator, ascending from the deepest depths back to the main level. Once on the administrative floor, the familiar hustle and bustle continued on, the heart of the underwater city beating as strongly as ever. Weaving between the milling crowds of people, arm-in-arm, you couldn't help but notice the number of surreptitious glances and hushed words exchanged as you passed. Wriothesley had been right about the gossiping, that much was clear. You wondered if it would make its way to the surface as quickly as he seemed to think it would. You hoped it got up to Thibeault and soured the milk in his tea.

There was a pause in the clamor of the cafeteria as you entered, bread and drinks frozen halfway up to agape mouths, eyes wide and watchful. You saw a tomato slide out of someone's sandwich and onto the brass of their bench. He seemed not to even notice himself.

"Wolsey?" Wriothesley called, leaning forward into the kiosk to search for the man in question, either oblivious to the scrutiny, unaffected by it, or very good at appearing unaffected. You could hear the distant clanging of metal and raucous laughter from somewhere deep in the kitchen. After a moment, Wolsey ducked beneath the row of hanging pots and pans separating the kitchen and kiosk to stand behind the counter, a harried smile on his kindly, weathered face.

"Ah, Your Grace," he said, dipping his head in greeting. "I received your request this morning for the meals — I've prepared something I think you'll all like. Should only take a few minutes to finish up."

"Wonderful," said the duke with a gracious nod. "Thanks, Wolsey."

Wolsey disappeared back into the depths of the kitchen, the clanging picking up twofold. Wriothesley guided you away to a table at the edge of the cafe seating area, pulling out one of the rickety iron chairs with a theatrical flourish.

"My lady," he said in an imperious tone, bending into a deep bow, peering at you from beneath a dark, raised brow. His lips quirked at the corner.

You rolled your eyes at his display, but took the offered seat, settling in and fanning out your dress around you. You shot him a look. "You're enjoying this far too much." Wriothesley winked at you and pulled out a chair for Molly as well, who flustered at his courtesy, waving her hands.

"Oh, thank you, Your Grace, but I was just about to go summon the aquabus back for my lady and me," she said apologetically. This was news to you. You raised a scrutinizing eyebrow which she pointedly ignored.

Wriothesley, oblivious to her shenanigans, smiled warmly at her. "Ah, I see. Thank you, Molly."

"Of course, Your Grace," she said with a tiny curtsy and a wicked little smile in your direction. Traitor. "Enjoy your meal, you two!"

"Dinner for two?" he said as she scurried away into the crowd. "How utterly scandalous."

"And specially requested meals, at that," you quipped. "I'm flattered. You spoil me."

"Anything for my intended. This is one of the many perks of the job," he responded easily, gesturing at the liveliness of the cafeteria. "No dental, though. And as for the food, I... uh..." His face scrunched. "I make a point of preparing my own meals unless I'm able to tell Wolsey in advance that I'm coming."

You couldn't help but snicker. "That bad, huh?"

"Oh, you have no idea," he replied wearily, dropping into the seat across from you.

"They're happy to do anything for the darling of the Fortress, though, I'm sure," you said innocently, leaning back and letting your eyes scan over the massive room and its vibrant array of occupants. "I've seen no fewer than two dozen people looking at you with stars in their eyes since we left the elevator. And that's just since the elevator. We've only made it about, oh, a hundred yards or so."

He scoffed. "Please," he said. "That's rich, coming from the belle of the ball. I'm frankly surprised anyone would believe that you'd ever choose a delinquent like me. Even I didn't think you'd give me the time of day," he said, a playful smile on his face as his eyes flicked from where your hands folded in front of you to your face. "No matter how handsome and charming I am. You could have anyone you want when you're finally ready to settle down and start a family."

You shook your head. "No, I told you I'm not concerned with anything like that," you said quickly. "Starting a family is not in my plans. Now or ever."

His eyebrows narrowed. "You're serious?" he asked. "Ever? Even after you've become a Champion Duelist?"

After, you noted, a sharp pang resonating behind your ribs. Not if.

You cleared your throat. "Nah," you said, trying your best to sound casual and not at all touched. You cringed inwardly at the unnatural way the word sounded, grating like a tin can down a gutter. "My aspirations would conflict with familial responsibilities and I need to be able to focus all my efforts on my work," you explained. "I just... it wouldn't be fair to anyone to ask them to sacrifice their future for me. I will take care of my family now so that I won't have to feel guilty for focusing on my future afterwards."

He frowned, deep in thought. "Well, I don't know if that's strictly true," he argued. "You should never feel guilty for having dreams or for pursuing them. A future can be shared, you know?"

Your swallowed, your stomach in a knot. "Well, what about you?" you asked lightly, intent on turning the conversation away from you. Evidently it worked, as Wriothesley looked briefly startled by the abrupt pivot. "Does the illustrious Duke of Meropide ever plan on settling down?"

Wriothesley looked like he was seeing something far away, carefully swirling his drink while he thought. "Maybe," he said finally. "Not in the immediate future, but someday, yeah. I'd like to."

You sat back against your chair once you realized how far forward you had been leaning. The extra space made it easier to think. "Really?" you asked. "You didn't strike me as the type."

Wriothesley laughed but the sound was brittle and half-hearted. "What 'type' did I strike you as then?" He shrugged. "I guess I'd just like to have the family I never had. With the right person, of course," he amended quickly. "I don't want to be rushed into the decision, as the court would like me to be."

You look at him for a long moment. Understanding... recognition flared inside you. "I know what you mean," you said softly

He scratched at the back of his neck uncomfortably. "Sorry, didn't mean to get too heavy on you there. Go ahead. You can call me a romantic fool."

Your brows knitted together and you shook your head. "I don't think wanting to have a family makes you a fool, Wriothesley. Not at all. I'm confident you're a fool for other reasons," you teased with a gentle smile, "but not this one. I think it's a nice desire to have. I hope you find the right person one day."

"I... thank you," he said haltingly. The tips of his ears looked faintly tinted. He cleared his throat with a noncommittal wave of his hand, and he might as well have been dispersing any hint of vulnerability in the air as though it were a wisp of smoke. "Sadly, here my options are somewhat limited," he lamented with a melodramatic sigh, a clumsy but firm topic change of his own. "However... there is a very charming young man who works in PZ2 who's expressed interest. I believe he's in for tax evasion."

You held a dainty hand to your chest, gasping in delight. "So you have prospects after all!"

"Oh, I do," he said, raising his chin haughtily. Amusement danced in his eyes. "As you observed, I'm very popular."

Wolsey approached your table as you laughed, dishes in hand, raising a scraggly, aged eyebrow at the baffling exchange before him. You recognized that it would appear, at best, odd to anyone not aware of the true nature of your relationship with Wriothesley, so you hoped Wolsey wasn't one to partake in the notorious Fortress gossip cycle. Wolsey shook his head wearily with a good-natured smile. One that said with no words, clear as day — kids these days. You hoped that was the green light that he wouldn't go poisoning your meticulously crafted well.

"Here you are," he said, placing a dish down before each of you. "Enjoy your dinner, Your Grace, my lady."

You both thanked him happily before digging into your meals.

You swallowed, eyes wide. "The inmates eat like this every day?" you asked, barely resisting the urge to shove more food into your mouth while you still spoke. It was phenomenal.

The duke snickered and for your life you couldn't understand what could possibly be so funny. "Archons, no. No. The welfare meals here are a bit of a... lottery system, so-to-speak."

"Hm?" You tilted your head, puzzled. "A... lottery?" you repeated. "Like gambling?"

"Yep," he said, popping the 'p', tossing another piece of his steak into his mouth. He proceeded to explain while chewing. "Exactly like gambling. We have several chefs on staff. Some of them are even inmates themselves. So let's just say, the type and quality of the meal depends upon whose you end up receiving. That's why I notified Wolsey in advance to ask him to make our meals himself."

You paused for a moment, letting his words sink in before throwing your head back in laughter. "A lottery," you wheezed, nearly choking on your food. "Oh, that's delightful. Probably cruel and unusual punishment, too, but delightful."

He beamed at you, eyes scanning over your face as you fought to regain your composure through fits of giggles. "If anyone asks," he said, blue eyes alight with mischief. "I didn't say a word. It would be bad for kitchen morale."

You snorted. "Perish the thought. Far be it from me to damage kitchen morale."

You were wrapping up dinner when a young man approached the pair of you, looking for all the world like he'd prefer to be anywhere else. He was thin, wearing the standard inmate overalls and an uneasy expression beneath a mop of sandy hair. He twiddled his thumbs in front of him as he waited for Wriothesley to notice him. You couldn't help but wonder how old the kid was. He couldn't have yet been out of his teens.

Wriothesley trailed off as he noticed the new spectator to your conversation.

"Your Grace?" the boy said at last. "Might I have a word?"

Wriothesley smiled tightly, placing his fork back down onto his empty plate. "George. Of course," he said to the boy who exhaled with palpable relief. Wriothesley turned an apologetic look at you. "Please excuse me. Feel free to have a look around. This shouldn't be long."

"Of course. I'll be fine," you reassured. Wriothesley nodded gratefully and began walking with the boy to a quiet corner near the cafeteria, already speaking in hushed tones. Wolsey came over to clear the rest of the table, offering you a polite smile as he collected the empty dishes. You thanked him and made your way in the opposite direction from the duke to explore a bit more freely, side-stepping inmates and guards and doing your best to take it all in. You noticed nowhere near as many people paid you any mind while you walked alone, despite the fact that you stuck out like a sore thumb in your stiflingly formal attire.

"Hey, lady!"

Clearly you stood out more than you'd thought. You came to a stop so abrupt it felt like reaching the end of a chain tether. You turned your head to find the source of the call, but could see no one close enough to have been the owner of such a high-pitched, authoritative voice. You turned even further, confused, completing an entire circle in place like a music box ballerina.

"Oi, over here!" came the voice again, cutting through the pandemonium. "Whaddarya, blind?"

You rotated once more to the source, emanating from a stack of various storage boxes and cases tucked away between two huge pillars of bronze and iron. Your eyes had to fall a few feet short of the height you'd been expecting to find the culprit — a little girl, no older than ten, little fists firmly anchored on each hip. She looked at you, up and down and then back up again with judgemental, green eyes.

"I never seen you ‘round these parts before," she said. She lifted her chin at you. Ornery little thing.

Your lips twitched as you watched the kid size you up. You couldn't help but feel a surge of fondness for the defiant, precocious little gesture. "That would be because I've never been here before," you told her.

She blinked, head tilted. "You servin' time?" she asked gruffly.

"No, ma'am," you said, squatting down to get on her level. Your freshly laundered hem dragged into a murky little puddle and you immediately felt a streak of guilt as Molly's hard work was once again ruined. "Just visiting the duke."

She rose an eyebrow. "The duke?" she intoned disbelievingly. "You tellin' me you're friends with His Grace?"

You nodded, smiling. "That I am."

She gave you an odious look, turning her back on you to make her way back to her corner. "If you say so, lady," she called over her shoulder. As she reached the stack of boxes, she spun to face you again, folding her arms in front of her chest. There was a boy you hadn't noticed before now standing beside her. He looked at you shyly, eyes comically wide.

You laughed softly, straightening and walking to the pair of them, near what you now realized was a small fort built between the two stacks of boxes. "What are the two of you up to?" you asked, leaning down to peek beneath the tarp draped over the two kids. There were a bunch of small items lying in cluttered, well-loved disarray across a rumpled plaid blanket — toys, knickknacks, clothes, and a lantern. Pillows. A couple of stacks of books, some for kids, some looking far too advanced for children their age. A small stuffed duck, a hint of fluff poking out from a small rip in the seam of its beak. "Do you two live in there?"

"No," said the girl insolently, as though to ask such a thing was the most preposterous thing in the world. "We have a room with some of the other kids. This is just our castle."

"No one minds when we build the castle here." The boy didn't look up from his feet as he kicked them softly against the iron flooring. He nodded. "We were playing checkers."

"Oh, I love checkers," you said brightly, kneeling down again so you'd be able to meet their eyes on their own level. "Can I join? I'm afraid His Grace is a bit busy right now and I'd love to hear more about the Fortress."

She looked at you, expression a little too calculating for your comfort. "It'll cost ya," said the girl at last.

"Huh? To play checkers?" you asked, confused.

"Nah, lady. The intel," she corrected.

"Oh, I see," you said seriously. "What'll it cost me?"

She leveled you with an unimpressed stare. "What else?" she said. "Credit coupons."

You frowned. "I'm afraid I don't have any credit coupons. But I do have… let's see… I have..." you trailed off, searching your brain absolutely anything of use to the kid. You came up short. You currently had nothing except, quite literally, the dress on your back. "I don't have anything at all."

She harrumphed, putting her fists back on her hips. "Whatever then, we don't need any coupons. We'll give you the info on the house. Just put in a good word for us with His Grace."

You grinned. "Oh, absolutely. I can do that." You chuckled and introduced yourself. "What are your names?"

She sniffed. "I'm Paulette. He's Jean. We're twins."

You grinned. "It's very nice to meet you, Paulette and Jean." Your eyes scanned the room quickly, locating Wriothesley as he bid goodbye to the young man from before. "And I'm afraid it seems we are going to have to postpone our checkers game."

Paulette grunted. "Rain check, then. Jean's too easy to beat so I expect you to be a better opponent than him next time."

"Hey!" said Jean, offended.

"You bet," you said, straightening back up. You winked. "But I won't go easy on you. Take care, you two."

Paulette waved you off with a noncommittal hand as she and Jean ducked into their castle. You turned away to find Wriothesley already walking over to you from across the administrative floor, his hand rising to seize your attention, almost as though he was unaware of just how much he stood out from any crowd. You began to meet him in the middle, trying to avoid the dinner rush of people coming to and from the cafeteria in a chaotic shuffle.

You'd almost made it when you felt a sharp force colliding with your shoulder, sending you careening forward and into another man, cup of coffee knocked clean out of his hand and hurtling straight toward you.

In the split second before you realized the steaming hot beverage was about to scald the bare skin of your collar, you braced for impact, but it never came — at least, not like you'd expected. Instead, a cold, hard, coffee-colored mass slid harmlessly down the front of your dress, meeting with the floor and sliding smoothly away a few feet before coming to a stop.

The duke stood before you with a worried expression, hand outstretched, a tiny cloud of frost dancing between his extended fingers.

You gawked, gaze darting between his hand and the brown, misshapen ice on the ground several feet away. "Did that just freeze?" you asked at last.

He nodded, worry fading away into perplexity. "That's right."

You passed your hand through the cloud at his fingertips. Tiny flakes of snow clung to your skin before melting away, leaving no evidence they had ever been there at all. You felt a surge of sadness, but it was short-lived. Wriothesley flexed his fingers, a second, tiny blizzard coming into being between your hands. It swirled in and out of your fingers and curled around your wrist with a mind of its own. You marveled at the tiny phenomenon. "I didn't know you had a vision," you said quietly, eyes glued to his hands.

"I mean, I suppose it's not common knowledge," Wriothesley said. "But it isn't a secret, either."

"Huh," you said intelligently as the rest of the blizzard faded away. You looked at him, scanning his vest and belt. "Where do you wear it?"

"Back of my coat," he said, turning just enough so you could see the glittering blue ornament hanging from the back of his left shoulder. "Have for a while now."

A puzzle piece clicked into place in your mind and you brightened with understanding. "That's why your back felt so cold at the ball," you gasped. "My hand was freezing."

"That... sounds about right," he said, smiling sheepishly. "Look, I'm sorry. We're going to have cut our date a little short today. Something's come up that can't wait."

"Oh. I see," you said, vaguely disappointed but unable to pinpoint exactly why. "Rain check on the tea, then? I was looking forward to it, you know."

He shook his head, smiling in a way that looked almost awed. "You really are something," he said. "But yes, next time. I have a blend with your name on it."

"I hear you've been rather busy," came a voice from the shadows in your foyer.

You sighed, letting your front door close behind you. You told Molly she could retire for the night with a tired smile — she nodded and excused herself.

"Clorinde," you said wearily, by way of greeting. "I was wondering when I'd see you."

"Honestly? I made the trip over as soon as Navia gave me ‘the latest gossip'," she quipped, stepping into the light of the foyer so you could see her scrutinizing gaze more clearly. She did not look impressed. "Duke Wriothesley?" she asked flatly. "Seriously? Since when have you been interested in marriage?"

You sighed, acknowledging to yourself that this conversation was always going to be unavoidable. You'd known Clorinde for years — long enough not only to be familiar with her persistence, but also her discretion. You trusted her. "I'm still not interested in marriage."

She narrowed her eyes, coming to a stop in front of you and crossing her arms. "And so the rumors are...?"

"Intentional," you said slowly with a pointed look. "We agreed on a ruse to keep suitors off my back, and as for him... he has his own reasons."

"The threat to the Fortress' autonomy," Clorinde supplied, and it wasn't a question. You raised an eyebrow. She sighed. "Why is it always a scheme with you? What if you ever want to be with someone in earnest?"

"I won't. I can't afford distractions. That would be a distraction."

Clorinde's eyes were sad as she regarded you. "That's not necessarily true."

"Why does everyone keep saying that?" you gritted. "It is true. I've seen what happens to every other girl like me when she shackles herself like that. I can't allow that to happen to me and I won't... entangle myself with someone and not be able to give them what they deserve."

"And so to avoid such an awful fate, you are what? Taking tea with the duke?"

"No," you snapped haughtily before exhaling. Brushed the dust off your skirts. You tilted your chin upward. "We're training as well." You shifted your weight awkwardly. "We... haven't gotten to the tea yet."

She shook her head, eyes wide. "Forget tea, training? You're boxing?"

You scowled. "How did you know that?"

"His Grace and I are acquainted," she said shortly. "You realize how many ways this could go wrong, right?"

"The only ways it could go wrong is if we were found out or one of us developed feelings for the other," you said, nodding primly. "And I can promise you, we are at risk of neither. This is a mutually beneficial arrangement."

Clorinde looked thoroughly skeptical. Her violet eyes glimmered in the dim light. "Famous last words."

Your frown deepened. "Enough. I have it under control. Is there something I can do for you, Clorinde? Or are you just here to interrogate me?"

"Just to interrogate you. Tonight, anyway," she said casually. And just like that, the tension dissipated. She strutted towards the door but paused before she reached it. She glanced at you from over her shoulder. "Training session this week?"

"Sure, yeah," you said, exhaling in relief. "Yeah. I will see you then."

"See you then," she said. She chewed on her bottom lip, not yet turning back away. "And uh, hey. Just one more thing."

You were quiet. Clorinde's eyes drifted somewhere off to the side, not looking at anything specific.

Her gaze flicked back to you. "Be careful, okay?"

Your cocked your head. "What do you mean?"

Her lips pulled into a thin line. "Just... take care of yourself," she said. "Don't get hurt. And try not to hurt him either, okay?"

You looked at her for a long moment. "Sounds like you aren't just acquainted. How well do you two know each other?"

"I'm allowed to have other friends," she said pleasantly. "Just please. Promise me, okay?"

You couldn't help but feel... off-balance. What she was asking was so simple but felt as loaded as her gun, carrying unspoken truths and a sense of foreboding you couldn't dismiss. She stared at you, her dark gaze earnest and not unkind. Nothing about Clorinde was ever unkind.

"I..." you started, unsteady. "Yeah. Yes, of course, Clorinde. I don't plan to hurt him. Or be hurt."

"Good. Thank you," she said. "That's all I can ask. Good night."

You smiled softly. "Good night."

She returned your smile and nodded, finally slipping out of the door and disappearing into the dark.

She was silent, but the door shutting behind her was louder than you ever remembered it being.

a/n: haha heyyy sorry this was so late but thanks everyone for being understanding about the delay. we been going through it at work but it'll hopefully even out in a few weeks

i hope all wriothesley wanters are or will be wriothesley havers <3

[blankwashed]

Sleepless Shadows (Part 6)

Chapter: I II III IV V VI VII

Recap: “If you had told me that you were a virgin, I wouldn’t have taken it so far you know?” he said as he came closer to you in a soft voice.

“I-I didn’t want to seem inexperienced, I-I hope I came up to your standards, sir…” Satoru looked at you with disapproval as you called him sir. Again.

WARNING & A/N: Do not read if you get triggered by mentions of rape, molestation, kinks, force. Really weird shit goes down here, I don’t know what’s up with my brain.

Satoru shakes his head once again at you. He doesn’t want to think about work and how you address him in university at the moment, why are you always reminding him?

“My dear,” he looks at you with thirst in his eyes still. Eyes, rolling to the back of his head as if he didn’t shoot the biggest load into your mouth. His thick cock coming back alive and practically making you afraid at how fast he can get hard again.

You stepped back from him, afraid of how he will treat you again. There were multiple times where you misbehaved and called him the honorific that he repeatedly asked you to not to address him by tonight. Even when he was railing you from behind, he swore he heard you say “sir, this is so good” but he let those slide.

Clearly, you were tired and exhausted. Your mind wasn’t in the right place at the moment. After some time you realized your mistake but it was already too late. He already had your hands pinned up against the wall, restricting all your movements. Sweat started to drip from your forehead and your breath was hitched, “S—Satoru, I’m sorry I f—forgot and you can’t blame me you were pleasuring me so well it just slipped my mind—“ you started to give out reasons for your mishap.

“Don’t you know how much your mistakes have an effect on me? Only you, baby that can do this to me. No one else. That’s why out of all the people I have ever met, I selected you because I know how smart and you’re such a perfectionist,” He uttered from his soft, rosy lips. Does Satoru have a perfectionist kink?!

He continues, “That’s why I like you babe, you’re perfect. Oh so perfect for me, and always doing what I ask you to do like a little follower, my slave if you will,”

Your eyes just widen because this is a whole lot of information for you to grasp. Mr. Gojo—I meant Satoru, likes how I do things according to what I’m asked to do? And he wants me to be his slave? The BDSM kind? Or is he into something much worse? You shook the thought off your head.

“B—but Satoru I—I’m tired, I just lost my virginity to you…can’t you just let me rest for a while? Please? I can please you in other ways,” you begged the lustful Gojo who can’t stop the idea of hammering you onto the floor. His mind was out of control at this point, only thinking of forcing himself into your tight pussy. He didn’t bother how he broke your hymen which caused you to bleed because the pleasure was overwhelming. All he wanted to do was use you as a fleshlight. He’s wanted to use you as one ever since he spotted you in class. Just to flip you on a desk, taking you from behind while grabbing your large breasts. But he remembered that your mouth would do the job.

“I guess your mouth was good too,” He growled and grabbed you by your hair and brought your white lips to his cock once more. You were exhausted from being fucked around but still you tried to open your drained and pallid lips wide enough to take in his length. Apparently it was not wide enough and he was not pleased at how you weren’t giving your best. He then grabbed you by your hair and choked your throat in order for your mouth to open wider. Grasping onto your hair, he brought your face to the rim of his cock, which caused you to choke profusely.

You scratched, clawed and hit his abs trying to inform him that you were in overwhelming pain, not sexual pain. Despite how loving Satoru was before, now his mind is not in the right place anymore and all he wants is your sweet & hot mouth to engulf his member. “Was this a new person?” You thought to yourself with tears running down your cheeks. You were choking but did he care? He didn’t, it made you want to die.

Satoru fucked your face for what it felt like ages to you until his hot, steamy cum was running down your throat. You thought that if this what it felt when someone were to force feed someone? This was worse. There you were, practically on the floor looking like you were just raped, but by who? A lecturer whom you love? Tears continued to flow down as you were conflicted with your feelings.

“Was he into me or does he only like my body?” You thought to yourself. Everything was confusing for you at that moment, you were only a 24 year old student in Jujutsu High, trying to learn how to fight for the better good of the world and I just got raped? It was consensual right? You had no idea.

Curled up as a ball, you wished you weren't there. Maybe even spending the night with Toji could've been better, at least he won't play with your feelings mentally. You thought at the moment that it was the beauty of one night stands or friends with benefits, no emotions will be attached.

"I'm sorry," you heard Satoru whisper. It took him a couple minutes to say that. You were collapsed into a cocoon, hugging your thighs and just wailing and sobbing. An aura of darkness was over you from all the negative emotions you were feeling at that time.

Both of you remained silent for a long time and things became uncomfortable among you both, which usually never happens. You were his star student, right? The only star that was exceptional to him. Satoru was feeling very guilty of everything he did, even to the point where he felt ashamed to urge you to do such immoral and kinky things to him. It was all his fault, right?

A/N again: this was alot. im sorry i made satoru into someone who cant resist, i didnt mean to but i think the plot just had to go there.

I just updated some stuff I’m horny now I’m sorry (im sleepy too so my brain isn’t functioning now)

[fruit-salad-ship]

Can I request some Witcher au Drabble my brain is in need of some brainrot after a exhausting last few weeks

Sorry to hear youve been worn down a bit, ive tried to scramble together something, but admittedly witcher AU is a fun one but also one ive not explored as much with feeling and emotion.

Hope this is better than nothing at least.

It starts in a bar, plums been sulking the whole way home as the pair ride back, now held up by the fireplace chewing through slightly old bread and some kind of cured meat with a pout on her features that Peach cannot ignore. The rain hammers on the window, the establishment is rife with drunkards, and people seem to have taken shelter here from worsening weather. “How many times do I have to say sorry?” Plum shoots her company a glance and goes back to the fire, huddled under a cloak that still feels damp. “More.” She wasn’t exactly angry, more, embarrassed, frustrated. The other patrons in the bar could feel the sheer cold energy coming from her, her menacing stare and both the woman’s gear keeping them away. No one cared much for Witcher’s, let alone ones who didn’t even fit the conventional definition for the hunters. Peach picked up a jug and leant across, refilling the little fighters glass as a small peace offering. “You-“ “Don’t.” Plum cut the broader, taller woman short immediately, and peach dared not continue, holding her hands up in defeat as she huffed back into the chair she occupied.

She was mad. This had been their first job alone, no one higher up in the ranks with them to make sure things got done, and plum was over the moon with the fact that she dealt the killing blow. The whole ride towards this grim little town was originally spent with her stomach in knots, thinking they’d fail, they’d die, all the worst outcomes, she planned and overthought every detail. All the while her partner, this egotistical, calm woman, just as new to the work as she was, simply rode, joked around, took time to rest without too much though, assuring her things would be fine. They were opposites, one worrier, and one carefree. Their hunt had been successful, they had trained twice as hard as the others in their order to make up for their gender, an issue that plagued them since being taken in by Witchers. By all accounts they should not have come through, Peach in particular had undergone a far more violent transition. But they got to the area where a Nightwraith was known to frequent. In a moral boosting act, Peach feigned injury and fell as if downed by their foe. Plum, overcome with worry pushed past fears, casting Yrden and ending the creatures suffering. She returned to peach’s side, triumphant but thinking her childhood friend dead, or close to. In that moment Peach kept the act up to mess with her a little but it allowed Plum to admit some…more personal feelings, assuming this might be the last chance to do so. The shock when her companion opened her eyes and sat up perfectly fine was so great she fell back onto the dirt a little. The realisation that she’d blurted out feelings, and Peach was in fact conscious and now AWARE of those feelings was crushing. And so now, they sat in this uncomfortable realisation.

Plum sipped, glaring over her goblet, trying not to feel completely stupid. “What I said was in the heat of the moment, and not true. I was scared, thought you’d die!” She observed, expected peach to be sarcastic, to take a dig at her, but she didn’t. There was a pause as the big woman watched the fireplace, before a short calm ‘mhm’ followed. She drank, and did not focus on the topic at hand. Somehow this made things worse. “What do you mean ‘mhm’? What’s that?” “It’s just a ‘mhm’, don’t read into it so much.” There was another pause, peach took the jug in her hand once more and stood to leave with a huff. “Where’d you think you’re going?” “Away, I can’t apologise, you’re in a foul mood, it doesn’t matter what happened, but you’re not going to let this go, so i’m better off letting you cool off. We’ll get back on the road first thing tomorrow.” And with that she skulked off out of the bar into the rain. Plum knew she’d be hanging around with her horse, not going far, so retreating to the room they’d rented that night was the best she could do to put her angry energy somewhere.

It wasn’t until the late hours that she was awoken, the sound of the door opening, familiar footsteps making their way inside. Plum didn’t move, feigned sleep, heard the form pause before sitting on a chair she knew was by the small window. Some gear was removed, probably anything water logged, the drips from it loud on the wooden floors. Peach sat quietly, a little drunk, cold, wet, and very conflicted, refusing to get into the only bed in the room. Damn tiny Inn had three rooms, only one of which were available. Go figures. So a chair would do, give the poor woman some space. Her guilt of playing a trick on her during their work was heavy, she made a mistake thinking it’d just push the smaller person to be a little braver with the fight, not…everything else. Sometimes she could stand to be a little more serious about things, her teachers always scolded her for messing around, for not being focused on the task at hand. This was a lesson well learnt. She tried to get comfortable on this hard chair, finding a position that wasn’t too bad, attempting to get some rest listening to the sheets of rain on the window. She could sleep just about anywhere, this was arguably a bit of an upgrade to rest on the road.

Plum lay, waiting, listening, realising that the woman with her was not coming to bed, she’d be worn out riding home tomorrow, perhaps… no. No way. Peach wasn’t getting a free pass on this one. She huddled up tighter under the blanket and stood her ground, didn’t give in. Not for the first 20 minutes at least, able to hear her partner slipping into a deeper sleep, peaking over. She’d leant herself on the window ledge, awkwardly crumpled to balance herself in a way that didn’t mean she’d instantly fall if she moved around, clothes still dripping wet, swords and heavier gear placed on a table close by.

“Idiot.” Slipped from her lips, this is how people got sick, though she recalled that peach never seemed to grow ill, not since she was turned, she’d grown in stature, in durability, and became something…different. None of the historic texts of their order covered whatever she was now. Whatever they did to her, it created something new, something that sometimes felt unnatural. The memories of hearing the elders discussing what happened rung out, Plum had turned over what was said a million times in her head, recalling being hidden in the shadows assuming Peach dead, they were just kids, she was so sure she’d never see her friend again. But her midnight trip to steal a snack from the kitchens got her more than she bargained for. She knew more than Peach did… Plum sat up and looked at her. Growing irritated that she was considering this, slowly feeling the floor come into contact with the bottom of her feet, standing, approaching. Two steps from her, she noticed Peach’s eyes open, reflecting back what little light was there, a red reflective sheen to them, something Plum had seen in bears and wolves, but never humans, not until this one. She reached out, touched the woman’s arm, unsurprised by how cold she was, Peach use to be so warm, but now she was always cold as the grave. “Come to bed.” There was no arguing. She got up and followed the little hand that pulled her, being stopped a few steps in, plum turning back to touch the shirt she was in, still soaked from rain.

It was lucky that the dark masked her reddening cheeks. First the impromptu confession during work, now this, pulling the clothes from her body, hanging them to dry. She could hardly see, and Peach wasn’t about to let her friend know that her vision allowed her to see more than most, picking up on the little micro movements in her companies face that showed she was going through a lot of complex feelings right now. The bigger woman said nothing, a welcome feeling of warm hands on her skin from time to time, until she was pulled once more, now unable to hide behind clothes, to a warm, far more comfortable bed. There was a quiet moment where they lay beside each other. Face to face, each on their side, huddled under admittedly scratchy sheets, but neither cared. That empty quiet lingered for a moment, Peach said nothing, she’d done enough damage for one day. Plum wanted to say so much, but there was comfort to this quiet, for the first time since she’d said too much, they reconnected in the silence, this was her best friend, someone who understood more than anyone what it was like to walk in her shoes, both having been worked to the bone their whole lives, bound together by some strange twist of fate. It was not lost on either of them how important this moment was, Peach put her hand on her companions side, pulling her in closer, tucking her up under her chin, feeling a little hand placed on her back, the weight of an arm over her side something that felt so natural. Plum could feel the scarring on this woman, gouges in the skin that told many a story, burying her head in the cold chest, able to for a moment hear a heartbeat, feint and very slow, so weak for someone so strong. It didn’t use to be like this.

One day Plum would tell her, tell her she’d found her father while digging for information during a job, a lord who saw a daughter as a waste, who got rid of her, that she had two brothers out there who got given the world, while she was thrown away. Tell her that she died, that she died a dozen times in fact, each time brought back by the very order she swore to stand by obediently as a test, an experiment. Tell her they turned her to one of them expecting her to die, and yet she did not, they were willing to lose her for the sake of scientific curiosity. That whatever happened to her was so horrifying the order swore to never perform those methods again, acknowledging their mistakes in secret amongst elders. But right now? It didn’t matter, nothing else mattered but being in the arms of someone who was always there for her. Neither had to say sorry, it was an unspoken feeling they understood.

In the dark Peach felt a kiss, one small little gesture left beside a collar bone before Plum curled up tight and drifted off. The words from their first job bounced around in her mind in the quiet, entranced by the heat of this little woman in her grasp, a woman who’d admitted feelings Peach never thought she’d receive from anyone. There was so much more to fight for now.

[leebrontide]

Secondhand Origin Stories, Chapter 3

Here's this week's chapter!

For those of you just joining us, I'm posting a chapter a week of my free near future scifi/low neon cyberpunk YA/NA novel, Secondhand Origin Stories, which has been described as

"-a character driven, compelling story full of family, queerness, corruption, brain altering nanites, secretly teen parenting AIs, and taking aspects of the superhero genre to their very human and rarely-explored natural conclusions."

For content warnings and more, check here:

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Chapter 3

Awareness crept up on Issac slowly and was, at first, made up of nothing but pain. He pulled away from consciousness, against waking up to that. It flooded him anyway, dragging him into his body.

He hurt everywhere. The pain wasn’t quite unbearable. He’d had worse. But not often, and it couldn’t be a good sign.

He tensed, straining the miasma of injuries even more. The last time he’d been this badly hurt, kidnapping terrorists had been involved. 

He tried to listen for signs of where he was, but couldn’t make out anything. The tilt of the surface he was laying on suggested “hospital bed,” and-- yes, there was some kind of IV in his arm. He noticed the itching tightness of stitches in his arm. So wherever he was, someone wanted him alive. That was probably a good sign. It should be safe to alert whoever was in the area that he was awake, since he didn’t hear any monitors going that would clue them in.

He opened his eyes.

Yep, that was one blank, featureless white ceiling. “Hospital” was looking like a solid option. Something was wrong, though. Why weren’t there monitors beeping away? Where the hell was he? Who would put an IV in someone without monitoring him?

He tilted his head-- which hurt, but slowly gave him more bright white room to look at. Small, no windows, walls as white as the ceiling and--

And Dad, wearing the now dusty, ripped clothes he’d been in that morning, sitting in a plastic chair. He sat by the door, head tilted slightly back against the wall, eyes closed. He wasn’t hurt, and he wasn’t on high alert. So they weren’t prisoners, then. 

Issac exhaled, sending shooting pain up through his ribs. At least the worst option was out of the way.

He felt his eyelids droop, exhaustion sweeping back in. Maybe from his injuries, maybe from whatever was in that IV. He suspected serious painkillers were involved. He pushed his eyes open again as Dad noticed he was awake. He wasn’t surprised by the cocktail of angry, guilty emotions on Dad’s face. Yep, Issac was hurt. Yep, it was probably because he lived with superheroes. Issac himself wasn’t worth attacking.

Something was still off, though. He just didn’t know what. It felt like it should be obvious, but the answer stayed just out of reach. He tried to ask Dad.

His voice wouldn't work. His throat hurt trying, but he tried again. No sound. Nothing.

The banked fear from before surged back. He tried again to ask what was going on. No sound. Not even a gurgle or a rasp. 

Dad got up from the hospital chair to stand by Issac. Issac tried to sit up. The IV needle yanked at his arm. Something was wrong. Really wrong. Why the hell couldn’t he figure out what it was? Lightheadedness swamped him for a second, and he started to fall back. A metal hand was under him, slowing the drop rather than helping him sit up. 

When his vision cleared, he looked up at his dad, who was torqued around, half-facing the door. What was he doing? He was just…moving his mouth a lot. Like he was pantomiming shouting furiously at someone. 

Issac’s painkiller-addled brain caught up. It wasn’t his voice that was broken. 

He grabbed a fistful of starched hospital sheet, yanking it upwards, needing confirmation and noticing this time that he couldn’t hear the rasp of the blankets as they moved. He craned his head around painfully, finally seeing all the monitors he had expected but not heard earlier. 

This was too much to deal with right now. His stitched and strained back spasmed, and he allowed himself to collapse backwards into the bed. He stared up at the ceiling. His mind raced, trying to wrap itself around the possibility, but was slowed by the sludge of whatever chemicals were in his system.

His ceiling view was interrupted by Dad, looking down on him. Dad didn’t try to say anything. They must have already told him Issac wouldn’t hear it. Issac stared up at him, breathing hard. Searching for some sign he was misunderstanding, or some kind of reassurance. All he saw was a mirror image of his own dark eyes staring back at him. Maybe looking for the same thing.

He was grateful when people in scrubs poured in, and Dad’s gaze was diverted off Issac. They moved around the edge of his vision, hands moving on tubes and monitors and lips moving silently as Issac’s awareness flickered. The strain of his breathing hurt his chest. Dad’s hand closed around one of his, squeezing tight. It was cool and familiar, but it wasn’t enough. He felt like he should have questions, but they slid away from him when he tried to grasp them. The needle in his arm tugged again, as some medical person did something with it. He had just enough time to wonder if his disorientation and slowness were from the painkillers, or something more permanent, before some new chemical flooded his system. He felt darkness swallow him from the feet up, and he surrendered readily.

* * *

It wasn’t fair that Opal felt homesick when she was still standing in her room. Pre-emptive homesickness shouldn’t be a thing. And she wanted this. She should be excited. She was sure that some part of her was very excited. It just wasn’t the most prominent part of her right now.

She stared at the big, empty rolling suitcase laying open on her botanical illustration bedspread. What did you bring to chase a dream of being a superhero? So far, she’d managed sandals, and some underpants. She was not an expert on superheroing by any means, but she felt confident that that was not going to pass muster.

Shani leaned around the door frame, looking at Opal, then the suitcase.

<Captain Underpants?> she signed. <good superhero role model. I approve.>

Opal smiled. <Thanks.>

Shani wandered the rest of the way into the room and sat on Opal’s bed, looking at the open closet door. Opal looked at it too. It was bursting, but it was a tiny closet. A tiny closet full of clothes Opal was half afraid to pack. Shani stood up, and pulled Opal’s prom dress out. She started to fold it. Opal laughed a little, and took it back. She hung it back up, shaking her head no. It was a great dress, all teal frills and iridescent sparkles, and Auntie had made it fit perfectly, but no.

Shani gave a stellar artificial pout. <superheroes go to fancy parties!>

Not in prom dresses they didn’t. That was the problem with a lot of Opal’s clothes. They didn’t seem like clothes a superhero would wear. A lot of them seemed too juvenile, like her prom dress, or her cute t-shirts with flowers on them. She had far more pink clothes than she’d realized.

Or, they were too faux-fancy. She pulled out her favorite hoodie. Not only was it pink, but it had a big Fleur-de-lis on the front, and fake military detailing. How would this look to people with real power, real military accomplishments? Would she look like a silly little pretender? A wannabe?

Shani threw a ruffly gray skirt into the suitcase. Opal dove on it as if the Sentinels could actually see her packing in real time. Her friend Nevaeh had talked her into that at Goodwill, but it was way too short. Opal would never wear it in public, much less when she was trying to land a job.

Opal threw the skirt at Shani’s head. Shani threw it back behind her without even pausing in her rummaging, tossing some sweatpants in next, which…OK, that was actually a good idea. Superheroes had to work out, right? Opal grabbed two sports bras out of her dresser.

She had a row of antique books on top of her dresser. No room for all that.

But she couldn’t just leave all of them. Even if she did have digital copies…What if there weren’t any other old books around to smell? Aldis was providing her a place, but she didn’t know what kind of place it was.

She picked a 100-year-old copy of Jane Eyre. It was seven kinds of beat up, but it had that all-important book smell. And it was the story of another young woman who’d gone out into the world to seek her fortune against long odds and a stacked deck. Yeah. Jane would be Opal’s special companion on this trip. Hopefully the Sentinels would be less judgy than the aristocrats in a Gothic romance.

She gathered some of her good letter-writing stationary for her weekly letters to Daddy and turned back around to her case.

Shani was arranging a bunch of clothes in the case with single-minded determination. And she was sniffling. Aw.

Opal was a fan of hugging in general, but hugging Shani was extra nice, ’cause Opal could hug her as tight as she wanted and not hurt her. She kissed the top of her baby sister’s head, and stayed there for a second, just enjoying the soft puff of Shani’s hair. Shani’s hand closed over Opal’s arm. 

Then Shani started walking forward, still holding onto Opal’s arm, semi-dragging her along. Opal couldn’t take a real step because she was too close to Shani’s feet, so she shuffled and laughed her way across to Mom’s room.

Mom looked up as they shuffled in, her eyebrows up, a little smile tucked into the corners of her mouth. “Mom, the present,” Shani prompted seriously.

Mom nodded, then sent a text on her phone and stood up. 

Auntie came up the stairs a moment later, grinning like the cat that got the canary, holding something behind her back. Shani grabbed Opal’s hand and pulled her to Mom’s bed. 

Opal sat, starting to tear up. She didn’t even really care what the present was. She just wanted to bask in the way she felt with the three of them. They loved her so much. She was going to come home at night and not see any of them there. How would she ever get used to that? Aldis was great, and she’d have him. But she didn’t think that could make her not miss Auntie, Mom and Shani.

Auntie produced the gift with a flourish.

It was a suit. A black suit Opal was certain would have been tailored to her exact measurements. 

Opal would never have even thought to get a suit. Mom had one, but she only wore it to job interviews and the occasional funeral. But this was what powerful people wore, wasn’t it? 

It looked so…adult. So responsible. Like the kind of thing that would get her in to see the right people. Also like you could wear it with a pink shirt and still not look like a kid.

Opal knew a rite-of-passage moment when she saw one. She blinked at them owlishly. 

Mom’s smile faded a little. “I know it’s a little plain, but you can wear it with any kind of jewelry, or shoes, or shirt…”

“Come on! Try it on!” Shani demanded.

Opal couldn’t picture herself in a suit, but she was willing to try it. Auntie brought in one of her blouses, and Mom lent her some jewelry and a pair of flat shoes. 

She changed, and Mom closed the door to give Opal access to the full-length mirror.

Oh wow. So much for worrying about looking too young. It was like looking into a portal to the future. Except it was right now. That was Opal, standing in her mom’s room, today.

And that Opal looked like she could shake things up at the APB. Like she could do a press brief about the prison system. 

Well, that was intimidating as hell.

But excitement was gaining traction. It was definitely a tearful grin, but it was a real grin nonetheless. <Thank you. Everybody. Thank you.>

* * *

Yael dug frantically through the same pile of comics and laundry xe’d just dug through a minute ago.

They’d been kept down in that basement for hours while the top floor got assessed for safety. Which meant Yael’s hamster hutch had been laying open on the ground for six hours. Wood shavings were everywhere. Xe’d put it back together right away, but three of its eight residents were still missing. Yael felt terrible for not having gotten back up to see to them sooner. They must have been so scared when their home fell over. 

Issac wasn’t back yet. Neither were Melissa and Neil. 

But xe couldn’t do anything about that right now. 

Jamie’d tried to help, but she’d started to look woozy, so Yael had installed her on Yael’s bed with the plate of toast she was still trying gamely to choke down to settle her stomach. Yael had to find Twinkie, Jerky, and Skittles before xe’d even think about resting. 

Yael knew they were hamsters. That xe was more like scenery to them than a friend or protector. But xe couldn’t help imagining them feeling betrayed by xyr absence and negligence. 

Damn it, they were hamsters. People got them as pets for little kids because they were easy to take care of. And Yael was failing them anyway. If something happened to one of them-- if xe saved some of them, but left another abandoned--

“Yael! Yael NO! By your foot, don’t move--” Jamie shouted around a mouthful of toast. 

Yael hastily picked xyr heel back up as Jerky skittered out from under xyr foot.

Yael could scoop faster than Jerky could skitter. She scrambled over Yael's hand, frightened by the suddenness of it. Yael made as big of an enclosed bubble as xe could with xyr hands, and sagged back down, exhaling. Xe’d almost crushed her xyrself. 

“Is she OK?” Jamie prompted. 

Yael could feel her moving around in the protective case of Yael's hands. A flurry of a heartbeat and movement. She seemed to be moving just fine. “She’s OK.” Yael stood, and returned Jerky to her home and family. The hamster fled into her little chew-nest. 

Papa appeared in the doorway, looking harried but relieved. “One Twinkie, and some news,” he sighed. Sure enough, a small puddle of golden fuzz sat comfortably on his shoulder, since he had a phone in one hand and the doorknob in the other. Yael rushed across the room to retrieve Twinkie. Seven down. One to go.

Unlike Jerky, Twinkie hadn’t almost just been crushed. She was perfectly relaxed, and went to Yael's hand readily after only a moment of sniffing. Yael kissed the top of Twinkie’s head, stroking her with xyr thumb.

Papa was less relaxed. “Issac is coming home today. The hospital has concluded there’s nothing they can do for him. But he’s not seriously injured beyond losing his hearing-- and that’s permanent.”

Issac, permanently deaf. Xe couldn’t picture it. His headphones were practically grafted onto his head. He was always playing piano, or humming, or whistling, or trying to figure out the selection algorithms on music streaming services…

There was a moment of silence. Yael delayed putting Twinkie back. She, at least, was calm. And soft. And safe.

“I found an ASL learning app,” Jamie offered from the bed. “It can’t be harder than French or Hebrew.”

“I don’t know Hebrew,” Yael mumbled. Xe should put Twinkie down. Go find Skittles. 

“Well, at least he’s coming home,” Papa suggested. “I’ll be happier when everyone’s home safe again.” He looked around the room. “But clean your room up, Dove. He’s sprained some things, and may be in a chair for a while. A wheelchair could never get through this mess.”

“I still can’t find Skittles.”

“I’m sure she’s fine. I’ll make sure everyone knows to keep a lookout.”

“Is Issac mad?”

“Mad?” Papa echoed. 

“At me.”

This got a frown. “Why would Issac be mad at you?”

Yael turned back to the hutch. Set Twinkie down slowly. “I didn’t save him.” Xe stood there, one hand inside.

“We can’t always save everyone,” Papa answered quietly. “You know that. I’m sure he does too.”

Yael wasn’t so sure.

But he was alive. Nothing meant more than that.

* * *

Jamie had pretty much tamed her rebellious stomach by the time Issac was supposed to come home. She’d moved into the courtyard to try to find Skittles, and to wait for her parents and brother. 

She was up a tree when she got the signal they were about to arrive. She wasn’t sure if hamsters could climb trees. But it gave her a good view of the courtyard, and the rest of the family as they streamed in, tense and expectant. 

The elevator door opened to the three of them. Issac was in the same rental-grade wheelchair she’d seen the team need for a day or two from time to time. He had on a set of his own rocket-ship pajamas, a hoodie over a sleeping t-shirt, and a tablet sitting in his lap. He was badly bruised up, his hair an even more chaotic tangle than it had been. His eyes were glassy and vague. Jamie went cold at the sight of it-- too much like Jenna’s eyes had been. It stalled her trip down the tree as she stared at him, trying to figure out how scared she should be.

Behind Issac was Mom, her eyes pinkish but her chin up and her jaw set, hands on the handles of the chair. Dad was beside her, face clean, but clothes covered in dust, looking detached and angry. His chin was up like Mom’s, but his eyes were guarded.

There was a flicker of understanding and discomfort from Issac as Mom wheeled him off the elevator. He leaned back in the chair, as if he could hide from everybody seeing him like this. Which was more or less the reaction Jamie’d expected. That was the Issac she knew.

Jamie looked at the rest of the crowd, trying to see what Issac was seeing. Solomon and Yael had almost identically heartbroken expressions, with Yael's maybe a hair more horrified. Drew looked like he was watching a funeral procession. None of this was what someone as proud and stubborn as Issac would want to see. If he was even thinking clearly enough to process it fully. 

Dad gave Issac's shoulder an awkward, halfhearted little pat, then he peeled off from the group, making a beeline for his own door. Jamie frowned. That was not what she’d been expecting. 

Solomon flinched. Drew and Mom seemed to expect it, but they looked disappointed. Issac looked confused, with a dawning hurt as he registered their dad walking away. 

Yael's voice was too loud. “Neil!” Xe headed after him. Dad didn’t react at all. He was almost to his door when xe caught up to him and grabbed one metal wrist, pulling him around to face xyr. “Neil!”

He turned suddenly, twisting his arm out of xyr grasp with a growled “Get off me.”

Jamie almost fell out of the tree. Dad almost never raised his voice. Not in the house, anyways. Not at any of them. And he never sounded that-- mean. He might flip-flop between smothering and distant, but he was never mean.

Dad slammed his front door in Yael’s face. Jamie climbed down, and stood next to Issac as Yael banged on the front door. Dad had locked the door? He never locked the door. Solomon rushed over, trying to hush Yael and pull xyr away. 

Jamie looked at Issac, who looked back at Jamie as if she had any clue what was going on. Jamie shook her head. She had nothing.

Mom looked away from Dad’s door with an air of resignation. She knew something. Whatever it was, though, she didn’t say it. She wheeled Issac towards their front door, and Drew opened it for them.

Jamie tried to think of something useful she could do right now, since she couldn’t fix Issac’s ears, make her dad make any sense, or find Skittles. She darted into Drew’s apartment-- also never locked-- and grabbed a few Cokes she knew would be there. If Issac’s stomach was bothered by any medication, this would help. 

She got at least a sort-of answer about Dad as she bolted back through the courtyard. She overheard Solomon. “--know how hard it is to catch someone mid-fall. He needs rest for his healing to kick in.”

Not a good enough excuse in Jamie’s mind, but it was some kind of information. Dad wasn’t who needed her attention right now, anyway. Yael and Solomon followed Jamie back into her own living room. 

Issac’d been parked next to the couch. Mom was in the process of drawing blinds as Issac squinted around the room. Probably a concussion, then, on top of it all. Jamie’d seen lots of those. 

Yael and Solomon stayed hovering by the door, as if they were afraid to come any closer. Bad move. Mom re-hung a picture, then turned to them, crossing her arms. “I don’t think he can read right now. At least, he hasn’t answered any of my questions. For now, we can’t tell him anything.”

Maybe he wasn’t answering, but he wasn’t asking, either. Which meant he understood. Issac hated being confused. If he wasn’t demanding answers, he’d found them himself.

Jamie sat on the edge of the sofa arm and opened a can of pop, offering it to him. He might not be reading, but he was watching everyone. There was a lot of information he could get from that. He took the can, slowly. His hands were stiff and bandaged, and she wondered how long it would take him to heal. 

He looked at her. His eyes were glassy, but he was watching as well as he could. 

What would Jamie want to see, in his shoes? Not a comforting smile. Not whatever that was on Yael’s face that probably wasn’t pity but made Jamie’s spine itch just like pity did. Even sympathy would tick her off. But she couldn’t play this off like it was nothing, either. 

She decided to not do anything. Just meet his eyes with hers. Let him read whatever was naturally on her face. 

He sat back in his chair. It was harder to read him this way, but it looked like he was satisfied with whatever he’d seen. She’d just have to wait to see what else she could do.

[dominoblues]

I WANT TO BE A WORM CRAWLING INSIDE MOKUBA'S BRAIN AND STARE AT HIS THOUGHTS IN BLISS.

----

The KitKat bar is challenging him. He is sure of it. Looking at him behind the glass with a smug expression. Mocking him, making fun of him. I dare you to push the button. Fucking annoying. He redirects his attention to the row below. The small pack of Kopiko tells a different story altogether. It is begging him, watching him with pleading eyes to free it from the sorrow of the refrigerated prison. That KitKat asshole must have everyone under its thumb, ruling as a king over the microcosmic empire of snacks called FamilyMart. Well, fuck you KitKat.  

Mokuba inserts the coins in the slot (one cherry blossom, two phoenix hall) and presses the number ‘one’ followed by the ‘five’. The machine awakes from its sleep with a buzz. The metal coils of the prison rotate releasing the captive small pack which falls in the open compartment below. Finally, freedom. Mokuba grins victorious. He kneels and pushes the compartment door reaching for his cold prize. He shoots a last glance at the snack on the other side of the glass: emperor KitKat is raging, yet powerless. That doesn’t mean Mokuba has put a stop to his reign of terror. No, the moment he turns away KitKat will divert its rage and punishment to the other prisoners under his control. Well, nothing Mokuba can do about it. Goodbye asshole. Not my fucking problem.

He walks away from the vending machine and sinks on the closest bench in the white room, his body feeling understandably heavy because he hasn’t slept in ages. Like a true Kaiba. Fuck hospitals fuck doctors fuck my idiot brother laying semi-comatose upstairs. Again. For the second time. A cosmic wicked prank, that’s what their life is. Years pass seasons change and we are clinging in this fucked up eternal looped hoax of our misery stuck in the same immutable frozen truth over and over again. I hate you so much. I love you so much. I have been surviving just fine without you and I cannot live without you.

Mokuba leans his head compliantly against the wall, closes his eyes and lingers. Seconds, minutes, hours. It doesn’t matter. If he falls asleep, someone will come waking him up just in time for the bijillion things appointed on his daily to-do list he doesn’t even bother to check. As if he needed to. cfo at 9.00 meeting.meeting.meeting. industrial illusions ceo at 11.00. report to the board at 12.00 because those assholes wants to keep up with everything that’s going on like they give a shit about him and the other idiot because this machine for pigs cannot stop grinding and profits.profits.profits Marx was right.   

Mokuba lets out an exhausted sigh. He opens his eyes again and looks down at the Kopiko pack hanging from his fingers. He pulls it open and sticks his hand in to draw the small wrapped confectionary. Lunch break at 1.00 reports.reports.reports. r&d at 2.00 testing.testing.testing. He removes the thin paper and shoves the sweet block into his mouth whole. Released from a lifetime under dictatorship only for it to end its journey in a stinky toilet. Someone somewhere has written a philosophical essay about the meaning of life of FamilyMart snacks. The intense flavor of coffee melts in his palate. Mokuba’s eyes fixes on the white spotless ceramic tiles covering the floor of the small waiting room.

Seto woke up two days earlier in the ICU. He opened his eyes briefly. However, they soon had to administer an IV dose of morphine before he went into tachycardia. Doctors tried to cheer him up saying the response to pain was a good thing. YEAH LET ME TELL YOU A COUPLE OF THINGS ABOUT MY BROTHER’S PAIN, he wanted to yell. Not a word about the rest, though. It is still too early to know, mister Kaiba. He called Mokuba’s name. That must have been a good sign, right?

He had been comatose for sixteen days, fourteen hours and thirty-seven minutes after the surgery. Mokuba had been measuring the time painstakingly with the meticulous precision of an atomic clock because that’s exactly what Seto had been for two weeks: an idle mass of still particles and unreactive electrons at zero frequency of resonance and momentum debunking the entirety of Heisenberg's uncertainty principle; an immovable and immutable pile of flesh and tubes, lines and cables sticking out his nose, chest, stomach and bladder as an extension of his own starving emaciated body.

Yet, Mokuba thinks there’s something decorous and beautiful in his blissfully simulated sleep. Even in his resting state Seto is a fixed mark in the flow of time. Pale and inert like marble crystallized in the eternal beauty of a greek statue that would make Michelangelo blush in admiration and jealousy at his sight. Seto’s charming even in a coma, gorgeous and grotesque as something born simultaneously from the hands of a Canova and a Dalí. It horrifies him and it amazes him he can barely keep his eyes away from the lifeless cocoon.

He woke up then and he went back to sleep. Seto is now a pupa. The chrysalis will complete its transformation and Seto-imago will emerge from its shell at the conclusion of this metamorphosis. Will you still be the same will you be different will you still love me will you accept the pain that we are fucking broken and I don’t care about perfection I never wanted a flawless you I want you to accept me/us for who we are.

-----

(WIP)

[bisluthq]

Hey Nat, do you ever get scared starting new meds? Because I'm getting new ones tomorrow that I'll probably start tomorrow and Ive had some bad experiences - like some I've been allergic to, some made my symptoms much worse and I could tell because I was more anxious, depressed or paranoid, one made me act out but I FELT AMAZING lmao so I was annoying and scaring everyone else and way more impulsive but I felt so free and uninhibited (because I was but in the worst way possible lmao). A couple gave me physical side effects like headaches and nausea but I was told to push through and get used to them, they didn't help and then the withdrawal symptoms were so bad I wanted to go to hospital. I don't have bipolar fwiw but I've been on most categories of psychiatric meds and I've gone from being excited to try new meds because they sounded promising, to having an almost panic attack. Idk my brain is exhausting to be around. But do you ever feel that way?

I mean I don't know what they're medicating you for because you haven't told me (and you don't have to). I'm fortunate in that I've never really felt any major side effects (I do get warned about them) except weight gain on Wellbutrin but at the time I didn't really care about that because I was just like "I need something that makes this depression go away" (I do, and again this is very much another side of "my brain isn't quite right" do generally, as a rule, avoid meds that have weight gain as a side effect because I don't like to be bigger than a Size 8 eekkk and I know that's like also not quite normal of me but it is what it is and when I'm struggling with the other stuff I also don't want to be stressing about trying to overexercise or manage it to not be bigger). My biggest issue when trying new meds is "will this work" because so many haven't? Like I've been on every possible SSRI (by itself and with other stuff), I've been on Cymbalta, one doc prescribed Norpramin which like really did fuck all, I've been on every anti-anxiety med from Xanax (which I guess sorta works in that it feels nice I guess but it doesn't really help my symptoms), Espiride (does fuck all for me), Valium (really useful because I had a prescription for that when I went through a hectic party phase and self-medicated with those to come off the party drugs, which was a big w but I don't think that's what the doc prescribed them for) (also I kept saying to the docs like I don't think you need to treat the anxiety, like I don't think I'm ANXIOUS I think I'm just concerned and with the new diagnosis like I think they were treating hypomania as anxiety), one wack ass doc put me on Lyrica (gabapentin) which I think may have been weirdly enough shooting in more of the correct direction but he did that to reduce my drinking but all those med were, again, fairly useless at actually treating what's wrong with me. So my biggest concern when starting new meds, for me personally, is major skepticism. I'm like "how is this one/this combo different from the other seventy things I've been on since I was sixteen/seventeen?"

So those are actually the questions I ask now. "What makes this different to the other drugs?" and then I also ask for the specific biological/pharmacological ways it works so that I really, really understand what the goal of the drug is. I do ask about side effects (which you've done). I ask how long I should wait before it takes effect/I worry (because for example SSRIs are usually +/- 6 weeks so there's no reason to go back until you've been on it for 6 weeks unless you just like throwing money at docs lol and if you're in public then I don't even think they'll see you before the 6 week mark). I'm not really excited these days - even with the Lamotrigine like I wouldn't say I was excited, I just think they're medicating the right thing now but I suspect I may have to go onto Lithium because my clinical psych said so (she can't prescribe obviously but her take is because I mask it so well - which we do know and the psychiatrist was aware/did mention that - I haven't been put on strong enough meds and the dosage she thinks from her experience, and again she can't prescribe, is WAY too low considering how bad my Bipolar actually is). Also after having these chats with the docs I ALWAYS ALWAYS ALWAYS do my own research. Obviously not like health.com or whatever lmao but like I actually read up on studies and stuff and what these things are meant to do/where they're used/what countries don't use them and why (because with psych meds some countries always ban certain things I've found) and just make sure I know what's going on as much as possible as not a doctor. I think that's super important because as I've said before when people here ask me, *we* know better what's wrong with us than the docs do a lot of the time and *we* will have to live with it. Like the docs know the meds/solutions but they actually don't have to live with it and they actually don't know what we feel day to day because in an hour appointment there's no way we can cover everything going on lol. So yea. Ask lots of questions, do your own research from reputable sources, check how long it's meant to take to work and if it doesn't work in that time go back and be like "ok homie this didn't work, what's the next thing we can try???"

Also with psych meds always be sure you're not JUST relying on meds and are doing therapy of some sort and exercising (I know it's annoying when you get told this but you really do have to exercise unless there's a VERY good physical reason for you not to be and even then I'd see if maybe you can do SOMETHING like light stretching or chair yoga or something) and eating sensibly because like if... you're not eating (what I sometimes do) or eating complete junk and if you're using mood altering substances (alcohol, THC, anything more hectic than that OBVIOUSLY even more so unless the THC/psilocybin/K has been prescribed and you're using medical grade/medicinal doses but like alcohol like obviously no one will prescribe to you) recreationally lbr besties like whatever you're on is probably not gonna work correctly lmao. Like you can't take MDMA and then the next day be like ":((( my SSRI isn't working" like maybe it's not but let's cut the MDMA first.

[ooglywooglies]

dysphoria

just having a feeling of like its nice that hrt is soon but i still just feel like i will literally never pass no matter what i do, too short, to stout

i barely have the will to fantasize about the POSSIBILITY of ever passing because it just feels so off the table. im extremely full of shame and would ideally try to stealth bc like, ive said it a million times i already dont have the will to leave the house being at a sort of inbetween ambiguous state sounds like my worst nightmare.

ive been reading some like community focused tags recently, its not really related its just that ive been thinking about it literally all day and i honestly dont know what to think so its stressing me out a bit. idk??? hyper empathy + discontinuation ???

my brain is swirling with many different insecurities and i kind of want to shoot myself and not exist anymore. its not related to the tags its just in response to feeling stress. like i said ive got discontinuation syndrome or whatever its called and im still acting overdramatic about everything.

probably worst timing ever to watch to take all my pills (i could, i totally could, i fucking wont dont talk to me dont check on me leave me alone) i have a lot of valium still bc i never use it, not bc im fine but bc im sick of being tired, im sick of having no energy im sick of being exhausted and alone and i FUCKING HATE MY ART

i tried to draw something because i have to work on stupid promotional shit so i can work on a fundraiser so i can afford stupid top surgery so i ACTUALLY dont kill myself in probably 2 years is about my limit for this fucking shit, i need 15000 and its so impossible.......... i cant market my stupid garbage art, my stupid ugly art style my shit trash coloring, no skill, no appeal

actually kill myself, useless worthless little fuckhead die, cant do anything, shouldve done it back then, failure, failure at everything, worthless

[briamichellewrites]

55

Jon and Brad talked to Mike about going back to work. They both had contractual obligations. He understood. They exchanged phone numbers, so they could be kept updated. He told them not to worry about not being there. Thank you. That made them feel less guilty. David had been holding down the Bon Jovi fort, so Jon could be at the hospital but he was having trouble. He didn’t want to ask for help because he didn’t want to take him away from Bria.

But, they needed his vocals. He appreciated them trying to work around him. Brad was obligated to start shooting a movie with Angelina Jolie. He could be sued for breach of contract if he didn’t show up. Matt texted him to see if Bria was okay. He gave him all the information he had. She passed out due to low blood pressure. That restricted oxygen to her brain.

She was in a medically induced coma to give her brain time to heal. Once it was safe, she would gradually be brought out of her coma. There was still no guarantee she would wake up. If she did wake up, there was a chance she would be physically or developmentally disabled. Currently, she is on a ventilator to help her breathe. She also had an IV to administer fluids since she couldn’t eat. It was very difficult to see. Matt was devastated for her.

She was so outgoing and so full of life. It sounded like it happened out of nowhere and without any signs. It could have happened to anyone. That was the scariest part. Since he had Adrien’s phone number, he asked if he could tell him. After getting permission from Mike, he gave the okay. He also gave him Bradford’s phone number since he was answering calls and texts.

He didn’t want Mike to be overwhelmed with everything, so he volunteered to do it. Jon was giving updates to Dorothea, who was also devastated. She heard about it on the news. Someone who she assumed was her publicist put out a statement saying she was receiving medical treatment. They asked for privacy, along with thoughts and prayers. It was later revealed that someone had leaked her hospital records to the internet. Everyone was extremely angry at the lack of privacy.

The hospital CEO personally sought the band out and apologized. They found the person who went to the media and fired them. They didn’t want to start a lawsuit because it wouldn’t be what Bria wanted. They just asked for better privacy protection. She had them assured it would never happen again. Good. Thank you. Just because she was famous, it didn’t mean she didn’t deserve privacy.

It was also a federal crime to release private medical information. They talked about it amongst themselves to get it out of their systems. The most important thing they had to focus on was Bria. Bradford was visiting her. He felt overwhelmed by the medical equipment. But, he had to be there. He would feel guilty if he wasn’t and he would hate himself. She was so beautiful and so full of life. It wasn’t fair. That was what they were all thinking.

He got a text message from Phoenix explaining why he wasn’t there. Linsey wanted him home because he was at risk of relapsing. His brother, Joe was coming over to stay with him while she was at work. Was everything okay? Mike didn’t tell them anything.

He’s probably respecting my privacy. If you want to tell the other guys, I’m okay with that. My mother was diagnosed with breast cancer. We’re going to meet with Joe on Saturday afternoon to discuss what her options are. Because of that and Bria, I have the impulse to drink. Linsey took my car keys, so I can’t sneak out to buy alcohol. It’s also why Joe is staying with me. Tell Mike thank you for respecting my family’s privacy. – Phoenix

Joe, Chester, and Rob were devastated for Phoenix. They didn’t blame him for taking the day off. He had a lot of stress on his shoulders. It would make sense as to why he seemed exhausted. He was. Mike verified he had been protecting his privacy. He didn’t have his permission to tell them. They appreciated that. It wasn’t his responsibility to tell them.

Since Jon and Brad weren’t there, Bradford was in charge of communications. He had their phone numbers, alongside the phone numbers of Céline and Renè. If anything happened, he would be the one to let them know. The intensivist, or intensive care unit doctor was giving them updates on her progress. Her brain was slowly repairing itself. It would be a long time before she would be taken off the medications keeping her in a coma.

Phoenix and Joe went out for pizza. He slept in until ten in the morning. Linsey had already left by then. He woke up to the doorbell. Who the hell was at the door? He threw on a pair of sweatpants over his boxers and went downstairs. It was his brother. He had completely forgotten he was coming over. It wasn’t a problem. Did he eat anything yet? No, he just got up.

“Get dressed. We’ll get pizza.”

The pizza was good. Meat lovers. He had a Diet Coke to go along with it. How did he sleep the previous night? He slept like a baby. After dinner, he took a nice relaxing bath. What happened to his friend? She had low blood pressure and passed out. Her heart was unable to get oxygen to her brain, so they put her into a medically induced coma, so it could rest and repair itself. It happened out of nowhere. Was she the girl he dated for a while?

Yes, her name was Bria. She was the girl who helped him discover he had been abused. One day, he hoped he could meet her because she was just incredible. After eating and paying, they ran errands before returning to the house.

He hadn’t checked his phone all day, so he did that while in the living room. Joe sent him a text earlier letting him know he was at the front door. When he hadn’t heard from him in ten minutes, he rang the doorbell in case he was asleep. He was. Being asleep was better than being drunk or passed out. They had a fun afternoon together. He needed to get away from the hospital for forty-eight hours to recharge. Mike let him know that nothing had changed with Bria.

Matt and Adrien reached out to Bradford about visiting. They were going to come over some time the following day. He was going to leave when Joe and Rob got back from eating dinner. How was he doing? Did his brother come over?

Yeah, he’s here right now. It was such a relaxing day! I’ll be there tomorrow. Do you want to come over and hang out with us? – Phoenix

He declined since he was tired and wouldn’t make good company. That was perfectly okay. Get home safe. He would. Thank you. After an half hour, he got a reply saying he made it home safely. He was going to bed and would be turning off his phone. If he needed anything, he was told to text Rob or Joe. Linsey was happy to see him in a good mood when she returned home from work.

She heard about their day. It sounded fun! It was. Who was at the hospital? Rob and Joe.

“Mike texted me letting me know that nothing changed. I invited him over but he said he was tired, so he was going home to sleep. He texted me about a half hour later letting me know he made it home safely. One or two of her friends are going to the hospital tomorrow to see her.”

“That’s good news that nothing has changed because it means her condition isn’t getting worse. Are you going to the hospital tomorrow?”

“Yeah, if that’s okay.”

Yeah, she had zero problems with that. He would need his car keys. She promised to give them back to him. Joe confirmed they had a very fun day. Good for them! She was happy they were able to do something together. They thanked him for coming over. Yeah, he would see them on Saturday. He was going over to see their mom to see if she needed help with anything. Give her our love. He promised to do that.

@zoeykaytesmom @feelingsofaithless @alina-dixon

[fecundaratis]

i dont wanna write creatively about it today.

today, i just feel sad and empty.

for the last month or so, ive been having panic attacks. not every day, a few times a week at most i think. every other day maybe.

my whole body tenses up. i shrink myself as small as i can. my neck and shoulders are killing me. i dont even realize its happening.

my partner notices something off. asks if im ok. if i want a hug. and i freeze and start panicking. no, dont, dont you fucking touch me. get away. im holding my breath for minutes at a time, completely unaware that im even doing it. they tell me to breathe and it just makes me angrier. im pissed off that theyre trying to help me. pissed off that they noticed something was wrong. when they walk towards me slowly, like theyre trying to calm a feral neighborhood cat, i get this instinct to run as fast as i can. to hide. to become invisible until they stop looking for me. instinctively, i feel that once they stop looking for me, it will be safe to come out.

but i never do that. because they arent so pushy as to make me finally take that step. they tell me gently to take deep breaths. but trying to regulate my breathing just makes me hyperventilate. my lungs are sore from holding my breath for so long.

after it passes, my whole body hurts. i feel like ive run a marathon, i feel like ive lifted up a car. im exhausted and i ache so much that i can barely move.

lately, i dont leave the house to do errands with my partner. when i think about what makes me so anxious to leave, i think about people seeing me. not even speaking to me, or attacking me, or getting hit by a car or a mass shooting, i dont think about all of the things that would almost be reasonable to be afraid of. i just think about being seen.

i am terrified to my bones of being looked at right now. i feel like being acknowledged is the worst thing that can happen to me. when i think about my loved ones seeing me, my siblings or my parents or grandparents or friends, i worry theyll see that somethings wrong just as easily as my partner does.

my thoughts are so constant, so quick that they feel like tv static inside my head. thoughts so numerous and constant that it almost feels like im not thinking at all.

im trying not to. but im distancing myself from people i care about. when they try to take care of me, i want to fight them. i want to yell at them to leave me alone. i get so mad that it scares me.

im so worried about what will happen when people care about me, but i also feel betrayed when they dont. almost like, im suffering so prettily, dont you see it? i put all this effort to be perfectly tragic and you dont even notice. you arent even grateful for how i suffer. as if im doing it for them.

im terrified of what this means for me. if my symptoms are real, or if theyre just desperate bids for attention. a 15 year old pretending to be depressed for attention is sad, but im 31. now its just pathetic.

i told my partner eariler, "i dont like when you humor my delusions." they told me, "you think so many fundamental truths about yourself are delusions."

when i think about the possibility that my problems are real, i feel cold terror in my gut. like being afraid of getting caught doing something bad. when i think about maybe ive lied about every bad thing thats ever happened to me, i feel something like relief. maybe ive lied so much, that i dont even know what the truth is anymore. or how to tell it. maybe ive lied so much ive completely convinced even myself that those lies are true.

when i tell my partner these thoughts, they tell me "you include details that someone lying about these things wouldnt think to include. you leave out details that someone who was lying would add to aid the deception." they insist that they can tell im not lying about any of this. they tell me that there are things about me that retroactively made sense after i disclosed some of my history.

a part of my brain hisses out that theyre blinded by love for me. that the possibility that they couldve fallen in love with someone who was so deceitful is so harrowing for them, that they ignore the clear truth: that i am someone who lies for attention and pity.

that part is so loud sometimes. a part of my brain is so loud and verbally abusive that i cannot cope with it. i dont know if its my conscience or a coping mechanism.

im so tired. i just want to know what is real

[evilishei]

Needing help since I'm short of brain cells as of this moment and lagging. I'm targeting to finish a one-shot come weekend .

The crew's out to explore an abandoned manor... in Halloween costumes. Kindly give me ideas on who will be who or who will be what.

Thank you! 🎃☠👻

[hajimescutie]

HEYYYYAKZHZJZBZ ITS 💘ANON

IM SO TIRED THESE DAYS TBH AND KIBDA SAD TOO SO CAN U DO A ANGST TO FLUFF SCENARIO WHERE THE HAIKYUU BOYS (TSUKKI IWA SALUSA AND BOKUTO) SNAP AT THEIR S/O NOT KNOWING THEYRE NOT DOING REALLY WELL ANSHAJSJZHSJA

KISS KISS 💘ANON

# — haikyuu boys snapping at their s/o

includes: k. tsukishima x gn!reader & h. iwaizumi x gn!reader

genre: angst to fluff (also in timeskip! obvi)

warnings: cursing, they kinda mean in this one but it ends up being okay!

a/n: APSKQNSJQQ 💘 ANON IVE MISSED YOU SM😭😭 I HOPE YOURE DOING OKAY ILYSM KISSES 😘 i only did tsukki and iwa i hope that's okay :(( whenever my schedules starts to clear up i'll do sakusa and bokuto i pinky promise! i love u and i hope this makes you feel better <3

main masterlist 

karasuno masterlist aoba johsai masterlist

TSUKISHIMA:

today was not your day at all.

it felt like the whole universe decided today was the day to make your life absolutely miserable. it all began when you overslept for work, tsukki had already left for his job, and you forgot to put your work clothes in the dryer. then, showing up to work in damp, uncomfortable clothing 15 minutes late, your boss was not happy. the whole rest of the day they were nitpicky about anything you did. you were getting sick of it, you rarely were ever late and this is how they decided to treat you?

when your shift was finally over and your boss didn't have anything else for you to do, you bolted out of there. the only thing on your mind was going back home, cuddling with tsukki, and telling about each other's day. on the way back you had a raging headache, silently hoping it'll go away by the time you get back home.

when you did get home, you were met with silence. you took your shoes off with your head tilted slightly. shouldn't he be home by now?

speaking of the devil, you heard your phone ping with a notification.

tsukki <3: gonna be home late. don't wait up for me.

you rolled your eyes at the text, your frustration built up from earlier beginning to grow and grow. you just wanted this day to be over with, you just wanted to be held and told that everything was going to be okay.

not even bothering to begin making dinner or replying to your boyfriend's text, you headed to the bedroom and fell asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.

you were startled awake a couple hours later to the front door slamming shut. you sat up, rubbing the tiredness from your eyes. you grumbled a bit to yourself when you saw you were still in your work clothes. when your vision became clear, you saw a very disturbed tsukishima standing at the bedroom door suddenly, frustration clear in his eyes.

"hi baby, how was your da-"

"why isn't dinner ready yet?"

you blinked at him, "i'm...i'm sorry?"

he crossed his arms while shooting you a glare, "i've had a pretty shit day today, and for you to not even prepare dinner or do anything except sleep for the rest of the day really shows how responsible you are."

all you could do was gape at him. you couldn't even process words in your brain from what he just said to you. he doesn't even know how your day went, so that gives him the right to act selfish?

"i'm sorry, your majesty, but i've had a pretty shit day, too. i was hoping to come home to you but you said you stayed late. i was exhausted from today so i took a nap," you scoffed at him.

"wow! must be nice to act like you can just push aside your priorities while others are out there working their asses off," he said sarcastically. you were beginning to get pretty fed up with his attitude, him not even giving you the benefit of the doubt.

you got up out of bed and stormed over to where he was, almost coming nose to nose with the blonde. "i don't know what crawled up your ass while you were at work, but i don't need this right now. you better get your fucking act together before-"

you let out a choked sob you'd been attempting to hold back. you closed your eyes and let out a shaky breath through your nose, "i'll go make dinner, since your head's too far up your ass to see how i'm on the brink of having a mental breakdown. now if you'll excuse me..."

tsukki's eyes widened at your statement. usually you'd be going back and forth with venomous remarks, trying your best to get under each other's skin. but you were almost quiet, and that scared him a tad bit more. he saw how you were still in your work clothes, most likely too tired to change out of them.

when he said nothing, you took that as your cue to drag yourself to the kitchen, but not before you felt a large hand grip your bicep gently. tsukki pulled you back in front of him, pulling you into a much needed hug. as soon as your head hit his chest, the tears fell free. you gripped the back of his shirt tightly, the pent up emotions from today soaking the former middle blocker's shirt.

tsukki rubbed his hands up and down your back while letting out a sigh, "i'm sorry, i should've realized instead of snapping at you. i love you and if you'd let me, i'd love to hear you tell me what happened. as long as i can tell you about mine?"

you pulled away from his chest, sniffling while tsukki brushed a couple stray tears from your precious face. he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead, hands playing with the ends of your hair.

"that'd be nice."

IWAIZUMI:

exams were the worst.

you were pretty sure your hair was going to start falling out from how stressed out you were. you had an insane amount of deadlines, too many assignments and essays to submit, so many damn email notifications popping up on your phone and your computer. it was safe to say that you weren't doing too hot.

you had been running around campus all day today, talking to professors and students in your class about anything and everything. some even gave you worried glances, but you chose to ignore them because you had so much shit to get done.

when you finally got home, you immediately sat down at the dining table and pulled out your school supplies, already expecting to pull another all-nighter.

your olive-eyed boyfriend, on the other hand, wasn't doing all that great either. team japan was not on their game today during practice, especially since one of them was injured and couldn't perform at their best. he wanted to rip his hair out, his frustration starting to get the best of him.

when work was finally done and over with for the day, his anger was at his peak. he just wanted to go home, eat dinner, and then head straight to bed. but, when he finally walked through the door and saw that not only was dinner not made, but that the whole place was a mess. you had gotten home before him, so why weren't any of the chores done?

he looked towards the dining table and saw you with your headphones in, too engrossed with your computer to even notice that he was home. he rolled his eyes, grumbling as he stomped over to your hunched over figure, aggressively tapping your shoulder to get your attention.

you jumped when you felt his touch, ripping your earbuds out to turn to hajime, who did not look happy. your eyes softened at him, giving him a soft smile, "oh, hi haji. did you just get home?"

you attempted to reach out to touch him but he quickly swatted your hand away. "yeah, i did just get home. care to explain to me why our home looks like a mess?"

you gave him a confused look before finally taking in your surroundings. blankets were strewn across the living room floor, the kitchen sink was filled with dirty dishes while the dishwasher held the clean ones, and some of your assignments were flung on the coffee table in front of the couch.

you shrank back in your seat, avoiding the ravenette's harsh gaze, "'m sorry haji, i've just been stressed with school and-"

"i don't want to hear your sorry excuses, y/n. i want this done now," he stated, teeth gritting together.

"and it will get done! i just have to finish this assignment..." you were turning back to your laptop before it was slapped shut, a gasp emitting from your lips.

you gaped at your boyfriend, "what the fuck hajime?! i hadn't even saved it yet!!"

"stop making excuses for not taking responsibility around the house, you're not the only one that's stressed. god, it's like i'm the only one that does anything around here," he mumbled out the last part, but you heard him loud and clear.

the tears were already flowing down your cheeks before you could stop them, some of them staining the papers you had organized on the dining table.

"oh what now you're crying? this is ridicu-"

"shut your fucking mouth hajime."

your boyfriend's eyes widened at your tone, hearing nothing but venom come from your trembling figure.

"y-you have absolutely no idea the amount of stress i'm going t-through. i have deadline after deadline, project after project, i've been glued to a s-seat all fucking day. and for you to blatantly disregard my feeling right n-now," you choked out another sob, "i'm sorry that the house is a mess. i guess i'll push aside my "excuses" for once."

you pushed past him into the living room, beginning with organizing the school papers that were on the coffee table. your tears hadn't stopped flowing, staining these papers as well.

hajime felt like an absolute piece of shit. with your back turned, he eyed the amount of papers on the table, diligently opening your laptop again. the assignment you were working on was still there, thank god, but he saw your calendar pop up in the bottom right hand corner. his eyes widened at the amount of dates that were listed, feeling even worse that he added more to your stress.

when he turned back toward your weeping figure, he walked over and stopped your hand from picking up anything else.

you immediately looked up at him with fear in your eyes, afraid that he was going to berate you again, "what- what are you doing?"

he pulled you against his broad chest, large arms wrapping around your waist. you let out a breath you didn't realize you were holding in, soft sobs racking through your body.

"baby, i'm so sorry. i shouldn't have made you feel like you don't do enough around here, especially while you're still in school. i'm grateful for everything you do for us, can you forgive me?"

you nuzzled your face deeper into his chest, his hands now massaging your scalp to relieve any tension. you nodded your head slightly, pulling away to give him a teary smile.

he leaned forward and pecked you on the lips, mumbling something about cleaning tomorrow before he pampered you with affection in order for you to relax.

reblogs are appreciated! <3

©hajimescutie 2021, all rights reserved.

[biwritesfics]

Dead Girls Don’t Die

Part 2: When the devil calls

Warnings: Mentions of death and violence, hospital setting. My previous parts have more exhaustive warnings just make the decision that feels right for you.

1k words

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Something was very very wrong. I bolt up lashing out blindly. A ball of ice-cold crackling energy shoots from my hand. A bearded man dressed in some kind of robes moves his hands opening a portal out of thin air and then closes it; trapping the energy. That's shocking and amazing and all but I can't help but stare down at my own hands in shock. “I apologize, that is- erm, a new development.” I murmur.

“It's alright I've handled worse, it's actually my job to handle mystic problems but that's not why I'm here.” I raise an eyebrow in his direction. “Tony Stark called in a favor so I came to look at your scans. In my career I handled some interesting cases, but it's rare to see damage like yours.” My heart skips a beat. “You can see the damage?” “Yes there’s damage to the frontal cortex of your brain and various injuries to your nerves If I’m correct you don’t have feeling on the soles of your feet?” I nod. It wasn’t that big of a deal until it turns out I’ve had something embedded in my foot for God knows how long.

“You're otherwise functional, we released some pressure from the base of your skull so that should be tender for a while, overall you have a clean bill of health. I raise my eyebrow inquisitively at him. “Is the psych eval not in or what?” “That’s clean too, you tested positive for the mutant gene. It explains your abilities.” My mind is going a mile a minute trying to process exactly what he’s saying. “That can’t be it, at least not the only…” I pause thinking for a second. “They found the bunker didn’t they?”

He seems to contemplate lying before admitting the truth. “Yes State and Local authorities are on scene, I suspect the FBI won’t be far behind.” I nod softly, it’s strange for my deep secrets to be common knowledge. “I appreciate your help but I have one question for you. Am I taking this IV out or are you because I have to go.” “No one is taking the IV out because the moment you’re off the morphine you’ll have a migraine strong enough to take out a grown man.”

“Coming from a girl who's taken out two grown men, just remove the damn IV” I wasn’t angry, just firm. I could tell he would be a tough nut to crack. “No I’m not risking the wellbeing of my patient you’re staying put” he counters. “You have a very short amount of time before I just rip it out.” I threaten. “Try that young lady and I'll restrain you.” His glare shows that he wanted to use words other than “young lady”

Sadly I’m still above begging. “Can I at least get a call? I've been in prisons with better bedside manner” I grumble. I think he says something about kids these days as he hands me the hospital phone. I feel a presence behind me. “I memorized the Lawyers number” Martin says. I push the phone in his direction and he dials. I place the receiver to my ear and listen to it ring.

I can hear the conversation in the background of the call. “I’m not your fucking secretary Red Im not taking your calls. “Just five minutes Castle I have to talk to the police chief and social services.” There’s some grumbling before someone finally speaks directly into the phone. “This is Matt Murdock’s phone. What do you want?” “Hi I’m Sylvia Cole I was hoping I could speak to Mr.Murdock regarding his visit to Massachusetts? He inhales sharply. “I’m assuming you’ve seen it, can I

ask— . “There were 12” he answers quickly, sparing me from asking the question.

My mind is reeling for a moment. “You need to tell then there are five more, the earliest ones.” “Alright Doll I’ll send the message,” he tells me. “Thank you, Mr…?” “Castle, Frank Castle you can call me Frank,” he replies. “Thank you, Frank, I truly appreciate your help,” I tell him softly. “Anytime Doll, call if you need anything alright? “I will, goodbye.” I set the phone in its cradle appreciating the satisfying sound.

Strange was staring at me as if he expected my head to burst into flames at any given moment. “I do hold some respect for you Dr.Strange I won’t rip the IV out I swear it. If you find me a bible I’ll swear it well or the Torah I’m half and half either works,” I offer. “Somehow I don’t believe that as you choose to sass me and promise in the same breath.” “You gotta let a girl have her fun somehow Doctor. The ghosts don't always get my humor.”

“The ghosts, what exactly are they like?” Strange asks taking a seat in the hospital chair. “Well they're all different, most of them are either terribly sad or angry at their predicament. I'm not entirely sure how they become ghosts, but they're not quite good or evil. Not in the black or the white ; they just get stuck in the grey. That's what I call where they go when I can't see them.” I explained to him. He begins to ask a question but doesn't get to finish it as I begin to scream bloody murder at the sight in front of me.

“What is it, what is it!?” Strange grabs me by the shoulders. I fall against his chest sobbing. “I can see them and I can feel their pain. They were just babies how could he do this? He was a father, he was my father, how could he do this to us.” Strange wraps me in his arms awkwardly at first but he softens a bit rocking me back and forth. “It’s alright he’s gone he can’t hurt anyone else.” “No no! you don’t understand they keep chanting it.” I try and scream louder to drown them out but I still hear them as a needle pricks my shoulder and my eyelids droop.

He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive He’s alive

[amoristt]

Grazing the Fire | IV

well hello. here i am, four years later, once again enamored with nathan enough to finally dust this baby off and pick up where i left it. im a little rusty so bear with me this chapter! much more to come <3

reblogs + tags and replies will make my entire day as i put a lot of effort into this :)! it also helps motivate me!

story continues beneath the read more. let me know if you can’t access it!

Warning: language, very vague s/a mentions

want to support me? heres my kofi!

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“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

A few hands raise in the corners of your eye, but yours remains atop your desk. Eyes far away, mind in a murky haze and almost completely unaware. All you could focus on were the memories playing on repeat within the confines of your tired, tired brain. Hours ago, you were warm, you were comfortable. Safe.

Cheeks heated to a dusting blush when you remind yourself just how you had awoken that morning. At some point in the night, an angel had blessed you. Allowed you to wake up wrapped around none other than big, bad, Nathan Prescott. Your face nuzzled into his chest, broad but wiry hands pressed firmly over your shoulder and his arm slung over your waist to keep you against him. Thankfully you had been the first to wake up, blinking away the morning sun blazing through his blinds and painting the room stripes of gold. At that moment, before your headache came crashing down onto your skull, you were astounded by him. 

Eye lashes brushing the top of his cheeks, his lips parted ever so slightly, chest rising and falling rhythmically. In that moment, there was no anger, no bitterness. Just a soft and peaceful slumber. It was like being the sole viewer of a magnificent painting- each stroke and detail placed just there just for you to pick out, to remember the curves and sharp edges down to the very foundation. From his unkempt hair down to the way his hand flattened onto the mattress where your indent still lived. Nathan was so beautiful like this. 

For a long time you stayed there. It was as though you were afraid to move- you couldn’t bear to disturb him. You had wondered, if he was always like this, so at peace, what would he be like? Likely soft voiced, mild mannered. He’d do his school assignments without hassle and donate to the charity board. He would wander the town with his friends and listen to music in a beat up truck flying down the stretch of highway overlooking the bold, blue, and beautiful ocean. An entirely different version of himself- carefree, and a fair blue as opposed to a burning flame of red. 

But, if that were the case, you’d never have gotten here. You’d never been both the outsider, and the only seeing eye. A lucky, albeit firstly unwilling witness to the display of depth before you. 

It never hit you like it had quite in that moment how lucky you were.

But- just then- an alarm disturbed what serendipity existed. You nearly leapt out of your skin, clutched your hands to your chest at the sudden sound. A headache wove its way into your once untouched temples. Nathan groaned, mumbled, ‘god damn it’, under his breath, and thus his body was reanimated into life. He rubbed his eyes and he stretched, that familiar scowl coming over his eyes and lips as he took in the sunlight damn near blinding him. A polar opposite to the being you’d appreciated just moments earlier.

“Ugh, fuck, how the fuck is it seven already.” He groaned. “I feel like shit.”

“Well good morning to you too,” You started, welcoming Nathan into the world. “‘I’m feeling pretty shitty as well.” 

You said that, but really… You were more than alright. Your head had hurt, slight nausea crept into the wells of your stomach, but other than that you’re sure you were phenomenally better than you’d have been waking up whereverTate would have left your ass.

“You need to get outta here, before everyone gets up.” Nathan drawled, but he didn’t sound as urgent as you expected him to be. You’d expected him to be angry that you were still in his room, but instead he just… accepted it. 

You snickered, climbing out of his throne of a bed. “Wow, you’re giving me the morning after treatment?” 

“Sure am. Get outta here, whore.”

“Oh fuck you.” 

You located your heels from last night, resting upright near his dorm room door. Heels didn’t sound like the most  practical to sneak out of a dorm with, so you instead opted to grappling them by the straps and carrying them at your side. Hair a mess, outfit riddled with wrinkles and makeup smudged under your eyes, you stood before Nathan in all your glory. He stared at you for a long, odd moment- and you for some reason felt exposed, or even, shy. 

“What?” You ask expectantly, placing a hand on your hip. 

His eyes trail to your line of vision. He shakes his head. “Just thinking about how now you really do look like my morning after.”

“Yeah?” You hummed. “Find it hard to believe you get a lot of those.”

Nathan shoots you a suggestive glance. “You’d be surprised. Everyone wants a piece of Prescott.”

Surely, he was joking, or maybe he wasn’t, but you… Didn’t like hearing that. It made your stomach feel odd, uncomfortably heavy.  As he stood up, reminding you how many inches he had over your size, you swallowed and cleared your throat to flush out that crappy feeling. “Well,” you started, mood having dropped. “I’m gonna go, then.” 

“What got your panties in a twist all the sudden?” He asked, raising a brow and pulling some clothes from his closet, tossing them onto the bed.

The bed you two had shared.

You hated the idea of his morning afters- whoever they may be. 

“Not feeling great. Probably a side effect of the roofies.” You mumbled.

Nathan breathed a laugh. “Probably.”

He seemed so calm, right now. Perhaps due to it being so early, before the outside world had a chance to remind him just why he was so uptight all the tight. Before he needed to be so uptight all the time. He really did have so many versions of himself- all of whom you were slowly becoming familiar with. Compared to the person you’d believed him to be before your run ins, you’d never have assumed someone so dangerous could be so soft as last night, as this morning. In the beginning, you’d feared him. Avoided him like a plague, or a wild animal. Even when you were enraptured in the existence of him, you still wanted to keep away. You’d never have believed someone like you could wake up clutched to his chest, as though he were afraid if he released you, you’d be gone long before he woke. 

Then, a sudden thought struck your mind. 

He’d held you so tight. He’d welcomed you in the morning. No anger, no annoyance. His soft laugh at your banter and taunts. How your heels were standing upright instead of tossed haphazardly into some random corner, where he’d watch your struggle to find. 

How he’d stayed awake to ensure your sleep.

“So are you just gonna stand there?” Nathan called you back to reality, hands gripping the hems of his shirt. “I gotta get ready and you need to wash up so you don’t look like a five dollar stripper.” Cruel words, but with absolutely no bite. You rolled your eyes.

“Yeah. But, hey,” You started. “Thank you for last night.” 

“Yeah, yeah. You gotta start learning to watch your own back.” He says. “There’s gonna be times I won’t be there to drag your ass out of the fire.”

If you’d been charged, if you’d been stricken with a strange defensiveness, you’d have retorted, ‘than stop helping me’, but… Instead you allowed yourself the comfort of protection. You allowed Nathan Prescott to watch you.  

“I know,” You reached for the door. “Thank you.”

With that, you bounded out of the dorm silent as a mouse. 

-----------

In hindsight, you should have left earlier. Class was merely 15 minutes away when you slipped out of Nathan's room and bounded towards the women's dorm. Albeit not exactly a long walk, by the time you discreetly snuck back into your own dorm, you had roughly twenty minutes to somehow pick an outfit from your countless unopened boxes and make yourself even slightly presentable. 

Wiping off whatever make-up you could get and reapplying it, brushing out the tangles of your hair and nearly tearing off your scalp in the process, scattering your nightclothes over your floor and managing to scrounge out a semi-decent outfit for the day… You still looked a mess. If the mirror could laugh, it would have. Black mascara smudges under your eyes and frizzy untreated hair. What a lovely look. 

You’d made it to class just five minutes late, but those five minutes were all it took for all eyes to be on you as you tried to slide into the classroom unnoticed. A couple classmates whispered to their table mates as you passed by, smelling of oversaturated cherry blossom perfume to hopefully cover the scent of alcohol. You sauntered to your seat and sank down with all your weight, suddenly exhausted. You’d made it with just five minutes tainting your record of attendance. The teacher greeted you with a disappointed sigh, and thus, the day began. 

But, it was so hard to focus. All you could think about was Nathan. 

“Alright class, who can tell me,” A board stick clacks against the chalkboard. “Who can answer problem four?” 

You lowered your head. 

“Ah, how about, ___?”

You snaked back into reality, blinking up at the chalk board that was somehow already riddled with math equations. Since you hadn’t been paying attention even in the slightest, your mouth gaped wide open, eyes scanning for something you understood even slightly so you didn’t look like a total idiot. 

Sadly, you were out of luck. The teacher shook his head. “I’m shocked,” He said. “You're normally so on top of things. Oh well.”

“Oh, I’m sure she was on top of things,” A female voice sniggered behind you “Last night.”

Your face flushed a red, hot, ruby. What the hell was she talking about? How had they found out you were with Nathan? You were so sure of being sneaky, there was no way-

“Her and Tate totally got it on last night.”

You whipped around in your seat, facing girls who looked to be clones of some sort. Both with the same dark eyes, short brown hair, and freckles. “What?”

“Alright-” Your teacher blurted. “That's enough. April, May, enough. Let’s not discuss things outside of the classroom.”

The two girls batted their eyes. “Sorry sir.” One spoke, twirling a hand through her hair. Her sister's wide toothy grin never fumbled. 

“Back to it then. Kate, can you help out __ with number four?” 

The small, blonde girl nodded quickly, brushing a lock of hair behind her eyes and offering an empathic nod. 

As you turned around in your seat, her answer fell on deaf ears. Your heart was racing in your chest, hands balled into fists while you stared ahead blankly.  

They couldn’t seriously think that you chose to leave with Tate, could they? Surely someone must have seen the state you were in. Someone other than Nathan.

The clock ticks forward but time feels like it's passing almost unnaturally slow. With just 10 minutes left, you feel your phone vibrate in your pocket.

‘Nathan: consider ur favor officially returned 

Your tongue poked from your lips, the tiniest of smiles taking over your once sullen features. Terrible thoughts and worries flew out the window while you type back, ‘damn. here i was gonna to ask you to do a backflip off the roof with me. there goes my plans.’

Nathan types for a moment. Typing, stopping, typing again. 

‘Nathan: soundz like a blast. where and when?’

A small blush heats your cheeks. ‘very funny. thanks to last night i have an entire 24 hour session of studying to catch up with.’

His response is almost instant. ‘Nathan: boringgg. txt me when ur fun.’

Rolling your eyes, you shove your phone back into your pocket. It seems you’ve been able to secure enough of a friendship with him for some mindless banter even outside your little visits. You smile. He’s… Fun to talk to. Surprisingly. 

Class comes to an end and you start to pack up the books and papers you’d hardly even glanced at the whole period. Whatever had been upsetting you before is lost in your mind while you think of the morning, the night before. All the things in-between. But, your happiness doesn’t last long. As you get up, you’re almost forced right back into your seat as a weight shoves into your shoulder. Your books scatter to the floor. April, the one who’d remarked about you earlier, glares at you in what looks to be disgust. 

“Careful April,” Her sister hums as she saunters past you, keeping distance and raising her already shrill tone of voice. “Might wanna watch where you’re walking- I’d hate for you to catch something from this slut.”

You absolutely gawk at her. “What the fuck did you just say to me?”

April scoffs. “Oh come on, like everyone doesn’t know what you were up to last night.”

“Sleeping around isn’t a good color on you.” May hikes her bag over her shoulder and snickers at you. They both leave the class together, sickeningly in sync. You’re left stunned where you stand, unsure how the hell your life came to this so quickly. How you’ve stooped so low that the daughters of the world's most uncreative parents are able to bully you based on something that didn’t even happen.

Next class goes no better. The person to your right, a jockey looking brunette guy, asks, ‘have you ever heard of a Tate?’. You say no, that that’s the dumbest name you’ve ever heard. The idiot grins and goes back to marking down likely wrong answers on his test sheet and you debate kicking the leg of his chair out- but you don’t to avoid even more eyes on you. It makes you sick to your stomach- even more than recovering from the roofies does. How can everyone believe it? You barely even knew the guy and you were clearly uncomfortable with his advances. No one saw that? 

After everything you’d worked for to build a reputation, trying so hard to not call out peoples shit for the sake of seeming friendly, tainted over something that didn’t even happen? And the kicker was that it hadn’t even been your fault! He’d drugged you, he’d have taken advantage of you! Yet you were the bad person? 

Class came and went in the blink of an eye this time. Your mind wrapped up in the situation, your stomach churning. You wanted the day to be over with but you still had 4 more classes to suffer through. Why was this happening to you? Was Tate being treated just as horribly, or was he getting pats on the backs of his unaware friends?

Wandering down the halls to your locker, you noticed Lance and Kaz hanging around one of the drinking fountains. Your nerves quelled- your friends would surely make you feel much better. Especially since they had witnessed how awful you were feeling as you left. You approach with a relieved smile, ready to say your truth and finally have someone on your side.

“Hey guys.” You smile, but Lance looks down at his feet while Kaz places her hands to his hips. Your smile fades.

“You could have told us you were gonna spend the night with Tate,” Kaz snaps. “You didn’t need to lie like that just to leave. We were all worried about you and it was for nothing.”

“What?” You feel like you could cry. “No, Kaz, I really did try to leave. Tate tried to drug me and take me home, and-”

“He wouldn’t do that.” Lance interrupts, with a frown. He looks back down at the floor with knitted brows. “I’ve known Tate since before time. He wouldn't do something like that, especially not to one of my best friends. Plus he told me he was really into you. Why would he even try?”

“Are you serious?” You sputter. “You think I’d lie about something like that?”

“You’ve been lying about all sorts of things!” Kaz huffs. “What’s going on with you lately? You’ve been so distant, and secretive. What are you hiding that’s making you lie like this? We’re supposed to be your friends and then you lie to our faces just to go and fuck the first guy that shows you attention.”

“What…?” It was like acid. It was like the rug had been pulled from your feet sending you spiraling down the unending cliff. Kaz, your best friend, all that venom. How could they turn against you like this? What the hell is going on? You felt your throat tighten. “Look, I’m sorry if I’ve been distant, but I’m not lying to you, I-”

“We gotta go.” Lance isn’t in the mood to hear it. “We’ll catch up to you.. Some other time.”

Kaz says nothing as she pushes past you. Lance, at least, spares a short glance over his shoulder. You stood there alone in the hallway, your bag falling off your shoulder and clattering onto the floor with a thud echoing off the walls. Everything you had, all gone at once. 

No one believed you.

---------

With nowhere to go where you felt like you could truly allow yourself to process the day's events, you went to the only place you knew. 

Just outside of campus, where rocks lined the edge of the boundary, overlooking the outskirts of the town and the ocean stretching as far as the eye could see. You settled yourself there, staring at the vast waters and wondering how this had all happened. Unlucky didn’t even begin to cover how it felt. Not only did you feel violated with Tate attempting to do unthinkable things with your unconscious body, but you also felt alone, and walked on. Your best friends hadn’t believed you. While Lance seemed saddened, Kaz was so… Angry. Her words cut like knives into your skin. 

It wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fair. You didn’t deserve this.

You want to talk to Nathan, but knowing him, he’d see your state and bounce instantly. After all, this isn’t exactly very fun of you.

As the sun began to fall, splaying orange and blues over the wide open sky, behind you, you could hear voices. A group of them, some male, some female. Memories of when your notebook had gotten snatched by those two horsed face assholes came flooding back and with all your alertness, you stood up, and decided that this sitting place was no longer safe. Nothing was.

Before you even made it ten feet away, the group had found their way to your spot and gotten comfortable, one of the girls cheering, ‘this’ll be our hangout! look at how pretty the view is!’

You took a short drive down the stretches of road and decided that if you were going to lament in your own sadness, you were at least going to do so in a place that had something to cover the sound of your tears. Plus a nice view.

The beach, littered with its picnic tables and the sounds of crashing waves would suffice just fine. So, you pulled in the desolate parking lot and wandered down the sandy shores until you stumbled upon a picnic table shaded by a large willow cascading lushious branches to block out the sun- a perfect canopy for you to wallow under. 

You had nothing at that moment. No friends, no reputation, no one to believe your tragic tale. And now, you’d just lost the one spot that made you feel comfortable when stress was building into your body like concrete. Tears pricked into the corners of your eyes and you bit your lip, dreading that feeling of a lump in your throat. Why you? Everything had been going so well. How could not even a single person believe that Tate had tried to hurt you?

Well, actually, there was one person.

Of course Nathan believed you. He’d been the one to rescue you, after all. Time and time again it seemed.  How was it that even the ones closest to you would turn their back so fast, yet Nathan seemed to be there even when you didn’t want him to be? Even when you yelled at him, and he yelled right back, fire and sparks falling into embers around the two of you. 

In that moment, you almost felt like you could finally relate to him. A reputation based on lies and things out of your control, paired with a hardheaded attitude to try and combat all the assumptions. 

No wonder he was so angry. 

“Hey bitch,” A voice suddenly called, and you had a split second moment where you were terrified of once again being the victim of a cruel prank or some classmates boredom. “How about next time you have a pity party you don’t fucking call me in the middle of it.”

You blinked away your tears and through the blurriness saw a figure coming towards you. All that sass, the tone...

“Nathan?” You breathed. It only takes moments before he’s in front of you, holding his phone in view, seeing that the call that had been running for nearly ten minute. You flush in embarrassment, pulling your phone from your back pocket. “How did that happen?”

“Well, can your ass dial numbers?” He taunts, ending the call. 

“Damn it, dumb phone must have butt-dialed you. I knew I should’ve gotten a different one.” You mentally kick yourself. “It must have unlocked in my pocket.”

“You don’t have a password on your phone?” He taunts. When you shake your head, he whistles. “You are just begging for a robbery. I’ll keep that in mind when I’m in the mood to send random messages to all your buddies.” 

“Fuck off.” You scowl, and he grins, hopping up on the picnic table next to you. The sun flatters his skin. He’s almost glowing. 

“Speaking of buddies, how the hell did it pick my number out of your sea of friends?”

You shrug. “Probably cuz’ it’s a priority contact.” 

“Oh lala, I’ve been upgraded to priority huh? Does it display a superman logo whenever you give it a ring?”

“Nope. When I press call it rings the nearest asshole in my vicinity. The fact that it’s you is your own problem.”

“Haha, fucking ha.” He leans forward and rests his elbows on his knees. He stares out at the water, watching waves pull and crash onto the beach. It’s almost beautiful, until he ruins it. “Yknow, you’re a really ugly crier.”

“Wow, thanks.” You shake your head. “That's exactly what I needed to hear right now. Why did you even stay on the line?.” Wiping your eyes, you start to forget your tears. “Couldn’t have been that wild of a conversation.”

Nathan shrugs. “Between the crying and the sound of the waves it was pretty nice.” He grins. “Very educational.” 

“Awesome. Glad I was able to make your day.” It doesn’t feel like your usual bitey remarks. You’re tired, you’re still a little hurt and you can’t stop thinking about how such an amazing morning had turned into such a horrible day.

“So what’s got you all fucked up? Never seen you act like this big of a baby before.”

“Nothing. You already paid off your debt to me per this morning, so feel free to resume our regularly scheduled mutual hatred.” You say, lying through your teeth. You know you’re both past the point of hatred, but you’re feeling jaded, you can’t help it. 

“Oh shut the fuck up,” He groans. “I didn’t drag my ass all the fucking way out to this shit hole of a beach just for you to give me that bullshit. What, did you fail a test? No one matched you on tinder?”

“Everyone thinks me and Tate slept together last night.” You blurt. “I think he’s telling people me and him had sex.”

Nathan tenses his shoulders and grimaces. “Fucking werido.”

“I told my best friends that he tried to take advantage of me and they don’t believe me. One of em’ even said he wouldn’t do something like that.”

“Fuck em’. Who needs best friends.”

“And to make everything so much better, these two bitches that I share four of my classes with harassed me all goddamn day. I mean, fucks sake, how the hell are girls named April and May of all things able to get to me. It’s bullshit. And to make matters worse, Tate is just… Getting away with it.”

“Yeah well, something tells me that Tate’s gonna get a real nice fucking taste of medicine eventually. I just gotta find him first. He’s got a lot of nerve spreading shit around given I knocked his ass onto the pavement.” Nathan brows knit at the memory.

You test the waters. “Why would you do that for me?”

He seems caught off guard, or maybe, surprised that you’d ask. Maybe he thinks you’re both beyond that point. He grumbles, “Why does it matter.”

“I’m just curious. We don’t owe each other anything, remember?”

“Yeah, well,” He huffs. “Don’t ask me questions to shit I don’t know the answer to.”

“You say that an awful lot.” You tease.

“Yeah well you ask dumbass questions an awful lot. Not everything I do has to have some weird ass motives behind it, ___. Maybe I’ve got beef with Tate that’s outside of you.”

“Uhuh. Sure.” You’re about to say something else, when your phone lights up with a text. The display makes your heart fall all over again. 

Unknown Number: you should just pack up and go somewhere else. no one wants std’s from breathing your air xoxo

You don’t even know who that is. Now absolute strangers are on your case. You want to throw your phone into the ocean and leave.

Nathan scoffs. “Don’t even bat a fucking eye for that bitch, whoever the hell they are. Half the hoes you’ve mentioned have slept with half the football team,” he pinches his jacket, “and I would know.”

“Ew, Nathan,” You grimace, that same feeling from the morning returning. It feels, oddly, like jealousy.  He nudges your arm with his elbow and grins playfully. It’s cute.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with you. You gotta know even I wouldn’t fuck girls that desperate. I’m a man of class.”

That last comment actually forces a laugh from you. It’s soft, but it’s real. The first laugh you’ve genuinely had all day. “That’s horrible.” You remark, giggling again.

It's almost like the slight restoration of your mood puts him at ease as well. He leans back on his hands and stares off into the ocean, those sparkling waters under the setting, orange sun. “I’m for real though. Those hoes aren’t worth your time. One day when we blow this shithole of a town they’re not even gonna matter.”

Your brows knit, eyes blinking up at him. Had you heard that right? 

“We?” You ask, perplexed, albeit a little… Hopeful.

Nathan sputters. “Well- Like, when everyone’s older and-”

“You know what, it's fine.” You interrupt. “Fuck it. You’re right. We’re gonna blow this town and they’re just gonna be some shitty memories.”

He sucks in a shaky breath. You’ve never heard him scramble like that, like he’s been unmasked. The look he casts you when you agree, when you don’t tease or patronize and finally hop on the idea that yeah, what if the two of you really didn’t have to deal with it anymore.

What if the two of you could just exist, without the anger. 

You look up at him. “Would you actually do that though?” You start. “With me, of all people?”

He swallows. His expression is tense, but he’s not upset. He appears nervous, caught off guard. Nathan tries, “I-”

Your phone rings. Shrill, piercing. Mood destroying. 

“Jesus Christ, it’s my mom.” You grab your phone and Nathan looks forward, stone faced and silent as you hop off the table and answer. It’s your mother, who all but shouts into the phone that her and your father are taking a surprising visit to Arcadia Bay while they’re traveling by on their vacation. She insists that you be ready in about an hour for dinner, and likely there will be family photos. 

Which means if you still look as wrecked as you did this morning, you’re gonna have a lot of washing up to do. With a quick goodbye, a short and sweet, ‘love you’, you hang up and sigh. 

“You still tell your mom you love her?” He teases. “What are you, five?”

You frown. “You don’t tell your parents you love them?”

Nathan side eyes you, and just shrugs. It is all the answer you need, really, and for his sake you decide it wouldn’t be best to press the issue. Not now. But- it still makes your heart hurt just a little. You wished that he’d had it better growing up. 

“Right… Do you want a ride home?”

“Fuck no, what am I,” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “a fucking girl scout?” 

“I was just offering, weirdo.” When he doesn't get up, you feel like you’re missing out. Like if you stayed, maybe, just maybe, you’d get to know him a little better. “Hey, if you want, I can stay for a bit longer.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re needed elsewhere. But,” he shrugs. “I don’t know. Fuckin’... Text me or something. Or not, I don’t care either way.”

There’s a small warmth in your chest that rises to your cheeks. He wants you to text him. “Yeah,” You say. “If I’m feeling fun.”

And with that, you bid him farewell, beginning your descent to the parking lot. 

“Hey,” He calls, and you turn just in time to catch a small item he’s tossed right at you. A tiny key resides in the palm of your hand. “Spare. If shit hits the fan again-...” He shrugs, and actually looks away. “Just don’t be too fucking loud of I’ll kick your ass out myself. No Madison needed.”

The widest grin plays over your lips. “I’m gonna re-decorate your room while you’re gone.”

“Ah, you fucking better not.” He shouts. “Actually- you know what, give it back.” 

“No, no! I’m sorry.” You play with the key between your fingers. “Thanks for this.”

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t lose it and remember- emergencies only. I don’t need you watching me sleep like fucking freak. We’re past that stage.” 

“How many times will I have to say I was never watching you. Christ… But, alright. See ya, then.” The key is heavy in your palm. 

You place it into your pocket and give him one last glance before you take off, leaving him to enjoy the sound of waves, birds, and the absence of your tears.

[kmclaude]

Hey Claude, how are you? Ive been going through months of writer's block, and it seems like I can't find inspiration anywhere. Maybe it's because I'm going through a lot in my non-creative life (which is unusual for me), but it's been more than just frustrating, it's been disheartening. So I was wondering, how do you deal with creative blocks? And what media do you go to for inspiration, if you do? Songs, movies, shows, anything really. This summer been long as hell, and I'd be happy maybe just to find somethin new to fixate on lol --🕊 (@pearlwhitetears)

hiiiii @pearlwhitetears sorry you're struggling!!!! creative blocks are hard and suck, especially when creative stuff is like....your escape/relaxation/relief from noncreative life.

for me i feel like a lot of my creative blocks are usually because i either need some new media to jostle my brain (or some old media that i can enjoy on a 'wow, this actress' choice to do x is really good' type analytical level as opposed to a 'wow i am experiencing this for the first time!!!!!!), i need to approach creativity from another angle (usually by sitting at my little bedroom craft desk and doing traditional artwork or typing away curled in a chair on some story or coding a website -- either way, not at my Drawing On The Computer Desk and not Doing A Computer Drawing), or -- often the hardest -- life is sucking ass right now.

for that last one -- the very Externalized Art Block, the kind of "a lot is going on in my life" sort of blocks -- I find it's...mmm, I don't wanna say self fulfilling prophesy or Sisyphean hell cycle, but it's one of those "life sucks -> try to create -> too stressed to create because life sucks -> despair -> life sucks more now" circles that the pressure TO create just adds another weight, another stressor, that feeds back into the stress of noncreative life.

for those...yeah, fuck, those are hard. hell, I'm literally in the middle of one: this time last year a lot of things happened one after another including my car getting totaled, going to the ER, and a terrible hurricane. then less than a year ago my fiancé left me and i am still absolutely devastated by that (and this would've been our anniversary month so you know...yeah, i’m still recovering emotionally) plus my noncreative jobs' have shifted and, while a good shift, it now requires a LOT more brain power. those stressors, good and bad, all stack and stack and take more and more mental, emotional, and other abilities away from your creative pursuits in order to funnel them towards, well, not falling apart -- which is a good thing! it is! not falling apart is generally good! but all that to say -- yeah! i know what you mean! it's a lot and it's super disheartening and exhausting to feel you can't even create!

what i've found, though, that works for me is finding the small small small wins and taking them. make them real. thought of a way to write a scene you've been stuck on? don't feel you gotta go write it all out right now because then you'll smash your head on your keyboard in a rage when it doesn't work right -- but DO jot down those thoughts real quick on a pad of paper. there! you did it, you did A Creative Thing today, you don't gotta do any more, there's 0 pressure. tomorrow you can take a picture of those notes and email them to yourself or otherwise digitize them. and the next day, hey, maybe you can review the notes and write down any other thoughts. etc. and eventually either those single small things will begin to add up until you find the flow again or by doing your One Little Creative Thing it sparks creating another and another and another until you putter out that day (and it's okay to putter out because hey, you did your ONE thing already!)

like shoot, i still haven't done A Creative Task I Need To Do but I did do a small thing to bring me one step closer to said task. one small thing is better than no thing, you know?

anyway, I think that's generally how I try to tackle them. do a little thing. even if that thing is getting out of your head -- journaling whatever thoughts are swirling around.

as for media i go to...it depends! right now i'm watching dear brother/oniisama e on tubi which is great because it is actually entertaining but also episodes keep you interested without aggressively spilling over so you wind up binging and then losing a day and feeling bad about it. so that's been a good sort of time keeper? usually i try to find something interesting on the various streaming platforms, else, i'll lean on some of my reliable comfort movies (you know, like Takarazuka's Elisabeth: Ai to Shi no Rondo because when I hear COMFORT MOVIE I think Japanese adaptation of Viennese musicals about Empress Elisabeth of Austria having severe depression! fun times!) hell, i rewatched The Ring the other day and was struck by how damn good that film still is, since while i am obsessed with the franchise i haven't rewatched it in yeeeeeears. sometimes it's just rewatching something you love but haven't watched in a bit.

i also have gotten into records if you've got a record player (or apparently now they make cassette players that enable you to convert to digital which is cool, the local record stores also sell beaucoup cassettes) which has lead to finding just random cool stuff as well as also forcing myself into a time lock: you can't exactly skip tracks in a record so you're stuck playing a side through, might as well doodle something or write a letter or knock out an easy task while it plays. it helps! because in part i know when the record ends i can get up and stop (or i can get up and flip it and keep on doing my little tasks but i have a guaranteed out.)

(can you tell for me it's been a lot of 'trick yourself into Doing An Art haha'? but hey it's working so far!)

actual media-wise, here's some things i've either gotten into recently that've been really slamming the 'wow not every day is a total shit and art is a thing that may be fun' endorphins button in my brain as well as some Go To Brain Likey stuff:

Perfect Obedience, a Spanish-language film I just got to see with friends on Sunday that was so so soooo good (warning it's about a priest who molests young seminarians and I mean young as in like...middle schooler): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tmlZYsz5i7g

Rammstein's latest album, Zeit: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=t-NUBR2kufw&list=OLAK5uy_kEcSS0IizYOnBcB1V0EpkFWVo87eAtFFw

Elisabeth Ai to Shi no Rondo, 2016 Cosmos Troupe version with English subtitles, which 20 bucks says will get copyright strike'd soon but if you like rock operas, ladies, and distracting pretty things, hey!: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sj0XN3ibpiI

The German-language version of Elisabeth: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Lr8z-yyGqF8

The Hunchback of Notre Dame Musical Studio Recording, because look ok look....look....look i love patrick page: https://youtube.com/playlist?list=OLAK5uy_kxStpxNrNAtPKNFl8mgwFBUIQqLBBAjKQ

At one point last year I had Hadestown on repeat so uh yeah hope you like musicals because that apparently is my go-to, sorry: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kwg1mswuxzY

Oniisama e (found ep 1 on YT lol) - https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lQbvy9Nr9fQ

Oingo Boingo's farewell concert is such a banger: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HnEkodpneqI

idk man idk i basically throw a lot at the wall that is my brain and hope something sticks. i'm also someone who will listen to one thing on repeat forever OR open spotify and start digging through the algorithmic recommendations off of bands i like until i find something new that punches the feel good button of my brain. it's a fight between COMFORT COMFORT COMFORT FOOD U KNOW AND LOVE and IF I DONT GET A NEW STIMULI RIGHT NOW IWILL LITERALLY UNALIVE

so. yeah. lol. god i hope any of that helps.