#tried a new way to colour i think it worked out ok.. not much faster though this still took 7 hours x_x

[twinkskeletons]

hibernation 😴

[h0rnyshakespeare]

could you do a fantasy au with bakugou as a kitsune? you’ve just recently moved into a cottage in the woods to get away from your previous life, when you stubble across baku in a trap surrounded by hunters! you of course aren’t going to let some assholes hurt an innocent creature, so you devise a plan to get him free. you draw the hunter’s attention away from the caged baku, causing them to run off. you then get to baku, and are able to free him. though a slight problem, the hunters are coming back, and they see you messing with their ‘find.’ while you’re frozen in place, baku literally picks you up, and jumps into the trees, evading gunshots. he keeps you there until the hunters go away.

after all this drama, you start hanging out with the kitsune more and more. you two get closer as time goes on, and bakugou becomes more and more infatuated and protective of you. he’s touchier, softer, and overall more gentle with you. he even lets you touch his ears and tail. everything is all well and good when oh no, the hunters are back, and they’re out for revenge. while you’re at the cottage, they ransack your home, chasing you out into the woods. you’re sprinting, calling for bakugou as the hunters are gaining. just then, none other than the fox himself jumps in and beats the absolute shit outta the hunters. he then turns to you, worry as well as rage in his eyes. he sees they’ve hurt you, and that’s the final nail in the coffin for what he’s about to do. “Stay with me.” he pleads. “you don’t have a safe home anymore, and even if you did, i can’t promise your safety. i NEED you to be safe, okay. stay with me as my mate. i’ll hunt for you. i’ll protect you. anything, and you’ve got it.” you’re stunned. eyes wide, you ask him why. why does he care so much? nobody else ever did, so why does he, as powerful and as beautiful as he is. the answer isn’t as hard as you would think “it’s because i fucking love you...”

OKAY this is definitely long and more of a vent than anything but i think it’s so cute! just imagine cuddling with him as soft and as cute as he would be, hanging over you like a jungle cat. very nice, very nice indeed

kitsune!Bakugou x gn!reader (I couldn't think of a title, sorry)

Genre: Fantasy

Warnings: Swearing caz Bakugou, brief mentions of gunshots (that’s it I think?? But if there’s anything I missed please let me know)

Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: Tysm for requesting, this was such a cute idea! I’m sorry this took some time, exams are coming so my writing’s a little slow haha. I wrote this to be gn!reader but if anywhere implies otherwise please let me know :) And to everyone else who requested, I’m working on them!

Y/N: Your name

L/N: Last name

You had recently moved into a little cottage in the woods, not too far away from the main city, but enough to be away from the busy, commercial life you once lived. Others might disagree, but you felt more at peace among nature, like you were truly satisfied. You had never enjoyed living among many people, so you were excited to start your new life, out here in the woods. As you walked back to your cottage after taking a walk to familiarize yourself with your new surroundings, you heard a few voices up ahead. You groaned, not wanting to socialize with anyone, but before you could turn to take a different route to avoid whoever was there, you overheard one of the voices say, “We’re gonna get a fine amount of money for this creature’s fur, ya hear me? So make sure the trap is secure.” A couple of other voices mumbled in agreement. You frowned. Although you could not really make out what animal they had caught, you did know that whatever they were doing, it sounded illegal. You sighed. You did not want to confront anyone, but you made your way towards the voices. You saw three men surrounding a cage, holding… guns? “What have I gotten myself into?” you internally groaned, but it was too late to turn back now. “Um, excuse me?” you called out hesitantly. They turned at the sound of your voice, looking displeased. You smiled nervously. “Hi, um, it’s actually illegal to hunt in this area…” you trailed off, seeing their annoyance. “How would you know, you little punk? Go braid daisy crowns or whatever you do in this dump,” one of them sneered at you. You were slowly growing irritated, but you kept the smile on your face, determining to help whatever animal they had imprisoned. “Ok, well, I was going to let you know that if you walk a few miles from here, there is a hunting area. You guys aren’t the first hunters I’ve seen around here,” you lied through your teeth, trying to distract them to give you enough time to release the trapped creature. “If you check it out, I’ll forget I even saw you guys here, and no one will know that y’all were hunting illegally, ok? Plus, I’ve seen a lot of finer animals in that area.” “Maybe we should listen to her, boss,” one of the hunters said to the one who had spoken to you first. “I mean, it is just a fox, and if we’re caught…” he whispered the rest of his sentence to their leader, who in turn frowned. “Fuck, whatever. How far is the hunting area, kid?” he asked, the question directed to you. “Oh, um, about… 10 miles from here? In that direction,” you said, pointing. “You better not be lying to us,” the hunter glared at you, making you gulp. You tried to act nonchalant until they were out of sight, then immediately rushed to the trap. You gasped when you saw a beautiful fox with… tan, almost golden fur. You had never even heard of foxes that colour. The hunters were idiotic to listen to you and leave this amazing creature, but you were glad they did. The fox made a low, growling noise, snapping you out of your trance. “Ah, right, I’m sorry, I’ll let you out now, don’t worry,” you said, suddenly feeling stupid that you were conversing with an animal. You quickly set your attention onto setting it free. The trap looked complicated to deactivate, but you realized it was actually quite simple, and you managed to free the fox in no time. “There you go,” you smiled, “You’re free now.” Surprisingly, the fox lingered, studying you with beautiful carmine eyes. First tan fur, now red eyes? “You’re like something outta a fairy tale, huh? So pretty,” you said softly, gazing at it at wonder, when you heard distant voices shouting.

Crap. The hunters.

“You really thought you could fool us! There were no animals in that area!” “Ahaha fuck, I’m in trouble,” you murmured, thinking of a way to escape, when you remembered the fox was still here! “Hey uh, you really should get outta here-” you said, turning to find not a fox, but a man with fox ears and a- no wait, nine tails. Your eyes widened, freezing as you tried to process what just happened.

“Oi, dumbass, if you’re not gonna run they’re gonna get you, you know.”

“I- uhhh… well this is a weird dream,” you chuckled nervously. “Tch, idiot,” was all he said before picking you up bridal-style and running faster than the hunters could catch up. You felt something whizz past your ear. “HOLY FU- THEY’RE SHOOTING AT US!” you yelled, grabbing at the man’s collar. ���Thanks for stating the obvious, dumbass!” he yelled back. “Now would you shut up so I can focus on not dying?” You quickly turned silent after that statement. Without warning the… man? fox? man fox?? suddenly took a huge leap into the trees, landing on a branch that somehow held his weight. You yelped, then quickly covered your mouth in order to keep quiet as you saw the hunters running past from underneath. “They’re gone now,” you heard the man speak as he set you down on the branch. The tree you both were on was sturdy, giving you a secure foothold. You turned to face him. “Uh, thanks for saving me back there, but I’m pretty sure you were a fox when I first saw you…?” “Tch. Humans really have gotten dumber over the past few years haven’t they. I’m a kitsune. Ya know what that is?” Your eyes widened. “A-a kitsune as in the ones in the fairy tales? The foxes who can shapeshift to humans, and have many tails…” you trailed off, feeling stupid that you had not noticed earlier. The kitsune smirked in response. “Yeah, and I have nine, meaning I’m the most powerful. You’re lucky I was there to save you.” “You saved me? Who was trapped in a cage, huh? If anything, you should be thanking me,” you huffed, annoyed. Who did he think he was? He said nothing, simply gazing at you with interest written all over the flaming pools of scarlet that were his eyes. You tried not to feel intimidated by them, not knowing what powers this creature possessed. You could not deny that he was beautiful as a human, alluring even, with blonde hair similar to his fox fur, and his body looked as if it were sculpted by gods. You gulped, forcing yourself to stop staring at all the scars scattering his bare chest. He smirked as if he knew exactly what you were thinking of, causing your face to heat up. “Where do you live, dumbass? I’m sure you can’t climb down trees.” You rolled your eyes, embarrassed that he was right. “Not far from here, I’ll manage.” “Don’t be ridiculous,” was all he said before he lifted you in his arms again, leaping to the ground and taking you home in no time. “I didn’t even give you directions,” you said, confused. He sighed. “I could smell your scent from here. Why do you live in the middle of the forest?” “Caz I want to??” you said. “That’s weird,” he responded. “Don’t you live here too though?” you retorted. You saw a smirk flicker briefly on his face before being replaced again with his bored expression. “I’ll see you around then, dumbass.” He said, turning to leave. “Wait!” you called out, immediately regretting it. Why’d I do that? But there was no time to question your actions as he looked at you, eyebrow raised. “Uh, I-I just wanted to know your name,” you said a little breathlessly. “Katsuki Bakugou,” he said, never breaking eye contact. “Bakugou, huh? Well, I’m Y/N L/N,” you replied. Bakugou shrugged. “I’ll be leaving then dumbass.” You huffed. “I literally just told you my name!” “And?” was all he said, before vanishing through the foliage of trees. You exhaled slowly, feeling a little disoriented. You had so many questions but decided not to think too much of the day’s events, instead opting for relaxing in your new home.

The next day, you decided to just hang out at home, yet you could not get the kitsune out of your mind, making you frustrated. “Ah, fuck it,” you mumbled, before heading out. You were not sure where you were going, but you walked in the same direction you did yesterday. “What are you doing this you idiot? What if the hunters find you again?” you thought, yet your body did not listen, continuing to walk in the same path. You did not run into anyone on the way. Unfortunately, that included Bakugou. You decided to just sit down under a tree and read the book you had brought with you. You had been peacefully reading for a while, the sounds of the forest soothing to you ears.

“Well fancy seeing you here.” You whipped your head at the sound of his voice. You saw the fox with tan fur you rescued yesterday. “Bakugou?” He transformed into his human form, grinning as he did so. “So, what’re you doing here, dumbass? Missed me?” You rolled your eyes. “You wish. I came here to relax for a bit.” “Whatever you say, dumbass. What’re you reading?” You showed him your book, causing him to snort. “What?” you asked, slightly irritated. What was his deal? “Your taste is so bland, I’m not surprised.” “Fuck off,” you responded. “As if you’ve ever even touched a book before.” “I have,” Bakugou said, raising his eyebrows. “Didn’t peg you as the type to read,” you said, getting back to your book. “Is that all modern-day kitsunes do these days?” Bakugou shrugged. “I’ve never met any others here.” You looked back at him, surprised. “So… you’re alone?” “Tch. I just prefer to be by myself.” You nodded. “Me too.” “Pfft, you? You look like someone who would love being around people, with how much you talk and all.” You glared at him. “And this is exactly why I like being on my own.” He raised his arms. “I guess I’ll leave then. Since you seem to really hate company, right dumbass?” “My name is not dumbass, it’s Y/N. Why’re you so rude?” you hissed. You were met with silence when you realized he had left. You could not believe you actually came out all this way just to talk to him, only for him to randomly leave mid-conversation. You huffed, shifting your position to get more comfortable. “I’m still here you know.” You jumped, hearing his voice from above you. “What the hell?” He snorted in amusement. “You really think you could get rid of me that easily, dumbass?” You rolled your eyes, but inside you felt secretly happy that he had stayed, and you hated it. “You’re so annoying,” you retorted, turning a page in your book, yet somehow not really seeing the words. It was quiet for a while, before Bakugou jumped back down to the ground, sitting next to you. “Read that for me,” he said in a tone unlike his usual one. “What?” “You seem to like this trash so much, so read it,” he said, making himself comfortable. You sighed. “Fine.”

And so began the afternoons you would spend with him. Every day, you would meet him under the same tree and read. Sometimes he would fall asleep next to you, exposing a more soft and vulnerable side of him, contrasting to his normally brash and rough personality. It was pretty sweet, and over time, your feelings for him only grew. You were not sure, but you felt that he too had become softer and gentler around you as time went on. He even let you pet his ears, blushing whenever you did so, trying to hide his flusteredness behind his colourful words. He even went as far as falling asleep on your lap in wolf-form, making you happy he could trust you with the more vulnerable side of him.

You were at home, about to leave to meet Bakugou, when you heard some commotion outside. You were about to check when you heard the door break open. “Find them!” you heard a loud voice say. Your blood ran cold. The hunters? Why were they so set on revenge? You heard something break as they stormed through your house. Before you could grab something to defend yourself, one of them burst into your room, causing you to freeze. “There you fucking are,” he said moving towards you, blocking the exit. Thinking fast, you opened the window next to you and jumped out. Thankfully, it was close to the ground, so you easily picked yourself up and you ran, not daring to look back, but you heard them shouting and running after you. You sprinted down the familiar path, calling for Bakugou as you did. “Goddammit, where are you Bakugou?” you yelled as the hunters gained on you, when-

“The HELL you fuckers think you’re doing, HAH?”

You had never felt so relieved to hear his voice. “Bakugou!” “Stay behind me,” was all he said before going absolutely feral. He beat them up in no time, then watched as they ran away in terror. When he made sure they were gone, he turned to you, anger dissipating, his eyes filled with worry. “You ok?” You nodded weakly, then raised your arm, showing him the wound you had gotten when one of the hunters had shot at you. “It’s not bad, don’t worry. The bullet didn’t hit me, just grazed my skin.” “Shit,” Bakugou cursed as he took your arm in his hand, examining it. “That’s definitely more than a fucking graze.” “It’ll heal, I’m good at first aid,” you said. Bakugou looked at you, incredulous. “Dumbass, this needs more than first aid, are you really that stupid? Don’t move,” he said as his hands began to glow. He positioned them above your wound, using his power to heal you. “Thanks, Bakugou,” you said when he was done. “Really, I appreciate everything.” “Katsuki,” he said, not looking at you. “Huh?” you said, confused. “Call me Katsuki, dumbass.” A playful smile made its way on your lips. “Sure, when you call me Y/N.” He chuckled, then looked at you with a serious gaze. “I want you to stay with me.” You looked at him, dumbfounded. “W-What? What do you mean?” “Your home isn’t safe anymore. Those hunters could come back anytime, I went easy on them. I need you to be safe, Y/N, I-” he ran his fingers through his hair in frustration. “What would’ve happened to you if I wasn’t there? Just… please, become my mate Y/N. I’ll do anything for you, I’ll hunt for you, protect you, anything you want.” You were stunned, trying to process what he had just asked. “Y-You want me to be your… your mate? Why? And why would someone like you care so much about someone like me when no one really ever has?” He blushed, looking away to glare at the grass. “Fuck, I don’t know, maybe it’s caz I fucking love you, dumbass.”

[divinefireangel]

au: vampire Hwiyoung x human reader, lovers?

Finally doing this.... ✧⁺⸜(●˙▾˙●)⸝⁺✧ʸᵃʸ

Ok tbh I think I went wayyy to overboard with it but I love vampires and SF9 so eh. Also I have no clue what's going on in here 💀💀💀💀💀. Sorry if it isn't exactly what you wanted op 🥺. I tried *pouts*.

Warnings: Fluff mostly. Vampirey stuff. Sex stuff 👀. Blood drinking. Angst? Death. Sickness. Puking. Like 2 lines. Ahh very long 😂. Should've probably written it as a fic but oh well 🤷🏾‍♀️. I think this also is kind if like a soulmate au. Lmk if I need to add more.

So cocky.

That's all I'm seeing 😂

He's the kind to have any human or vamp do anything for him, with him, etc, etc.

A fairly famous vampire, amongst all of the ones who exist

Loves travelling the world

Meeting new people

Trying new things like food, kinks, new blood types too.

Lives for the thrill of almost getting caught

Flashes his red eyes when he wants to peak someone's curiosity in him

He's all mysterious and that's just so infuriating to not want to get to know him

But he doesn't let anyone get close

He knows it's not right to turn someone into a vampire

He'd never do that

Also he took a vow with his first and last love, to be each other's only forever

But alas, first loves never last

And neither did his

The vow however, lasted longer than the life of his first love

It was to never fall in love with a human again

For he was the one who had completely drained his first love, of their blood, to complete his transition

The realization of what he'd done hit him too late

So the vow was kind of an untold tension hanging in the air, that just grew with every passing second as Hwiyoung drained his lover's blood

He masks his sorrow, with cockiness

But all of his resolve wavered when he saw you

Just laughing, minding your own business

Talking with your friends in the cafe

Your hair flowing with the wind

Laugh echoing it's way to his heart

For once, in his long long life, he didn't just want someone, he longed for them.

After centuries of sad loneliness, he saw you

He heard your heart beat steadily as you spoke with much enthusiasm

Intriguing everyone around you

Not that you noticed

He felt like shedding a tear, his heart hurting the longer he looked at you

But he just couldn't look away from your sweet smile & bright eyes

The next few days pass by him looking at you from afar

Now you weren't one to not notice and do nothing if some random creep followed you everyday

So naturally you confront him by cornering him

He honestly didn't think you had it in you to trap him

Something about being so close to you, even when you are interrogating him just makes him want you to be his even more

That's when he sees you, like actually sees you

Your angry yet curious eyes, the lovely tint on your parted lips, your tongue in between your teeth, and so much more

Never thought this would happen, but he's speechless

So bound by your beauty he isn't even able to defend himself and his actions

When you're about to leave, he grabs your elbow and exchanges your positions

Cornering you and towering you as he introduces himself

The way he is so close to makes you breath hitch and heart beat faster, blood pulsing through you at a greater speed

He knows he's peaked your interest in him

He knows that you're conflicted

He knows that he will be too, sooner than expected

He will try not to showcase his vampire abilities

But how long can he go for you know?

What will happen when he gets a scratch and it heals soon? You'll think it's a little suspicious

What will happen if you get hurt and bleed? Will he be able to just tend to your wound without letting his strength get in the way?

So many questions

So many doubts

But they fade to nothing, when he looks at you

When he looks at you, he sees the most perfect human

Compassionate, caring, kind, sweet, absolutely adorable

He almost feels human too, when he's around you

And just to feel normal again, he starts to spend all his time around you

Roaming with you, circling around you like a buzzed bee does with a flower

And that's when you start your courtship

With him doing so many things with you

Helping you with your work/studies

Taking you on multiple dates

So many getaways

Getting you so much jewelry

Matching Jewelry!!!! 🥺

Falling in love with you

Regular movie nights in

Falling in love

Moving into an apartment together

Falling in love

Doing all your domestic things like cooking, laundry, grocery shopping, getting a goddamn job, and what not

Falling in love

Discussions about adopting a pet together

Oh and falling in love.

Yup.

You have a totally lovesick vampire head over heels completely in love with you with his cold dead heart

When the realization that he hath fallen hits him, he couldn't help but cry

Because he knows that you love him too

He knows that you'd want him to propose to you soon

He knows that eventually you're gonna wanna start a family with him

Even if you don't, which is okay, he knows that you are gonna die in a few decades

What will he do when he can't avoid the inevitable question you'll ask him about not aging

About not getting sick like ever

About having so much money

About having so much knowledge and minute details about historical events which just slip out his mouth from time to time

But

What he doesn't know is that you were already suspecting something was up

You don't know when you started to notice the subtle things he did, things that no one in your time does

The way he talks so casually with everyone

His peculiar usage of words at times

How he doesn't have a single wrinkle on his surely flawless face

How he never grows a grey hair

How his skin is so pale and cold to touch

But his tongue is always so pink

How his eyes look a different colours at random moments

Your first instinct, was of course, you were being delusional.

But then you thought about your life since you met him

How everything was going so good, too good for a human and human relationship

Pain.

That's what you felt when you started to see everything

And not just emotional pain, physical too

You could feel your heart breaking

You didn't know why

Was it because you've given your heart to someone you don't even know what species is?

Or because you've wasted the best time of your life on someone who won't be with you till the end?

You're not stupid, of course you confront him

Even if it meant you'd go from being someone he loves to someone he might hate

When the question flies out of your mouth

He just looks at you with pity

Was it for you or him, he doesn't know

Swallowing, his Adam's Apple bobs in his throat

He'll gently grasp you hands

Making you sit on a chair and he'd come clean

Yes

That simple

Because he can erase your memory if you threaten him 💀

He, for the first time, has no clue how you'd react

Chewing on your finger you look at him

Saying okay

Cause you love him

And him being a vampire doesn't change the fact that he is a good person

Well was or whatever, it's complicated

He just falls on the ground

Crying and thanking you 🥺

Hugging him you realize that you're crying too

The next day is like you're both reborn

Nothing actually changed much lol

He quits his job and you quit yours

And you both just travel the world

Go to different places, new places

Find secluded spaces to fuck, just for the adrenaline

Oh yes sex with vamp Hwiyoung!!!

Uses his strength to mark you.

Uses his powers to multiply the feeling of your high

Uses his speed to fuck you senseless

Of course he goes raw, not like you can get anything from him 💀

He has good control on his hunger for blood

So he won't actually hurt you if he bites you too hard till blood comes

Everything is going, perfect, to say the least

Until you catch a bad stomach bug

You get sick till your guts come out

He hates hates hates it so much

That you're so vulnerable to such things

And that he isn't

That he can't do anything about it even when you reassure him it's okay

He hates knowing that someday you may leave him

When you do get better, he feels so relieved

You know what's coming

So you thought about it a lot

To be honest, you've been thinking about it since he confirmed your doubts about him being a vampire

He is so shocked when you say yes to him

When he asks if you want to, only and only if you do, he's ready to make you a vampire too

The idea of you also becoming a vamp just sounds perfect to him

Cause then it'd mean you'd never get sick or get hurt or die

So you can be together forever and ever 🥺

[jostepherjoestar]

Hiiiii) can I get some HC's for SDC? can you write their reaction to a fem reader who has a bad memory? she may be late for a meeting because she forgets where to go or get lost in a hotel because she forgets the way. And because of that she feels like a burden to them (with Joseph too, please. Parent material ♡ )

SDC with reader  who has a bad memory HC’s

fem reader // sfw

since it wasn’t specified I’ll situate this during the trip to Egypt :) foggy head gang unite!! thanks for requesting <3

Avdol

Avdol could never be annoyed with you, you were a valuable member of the team, always worked hard and were an amazing fighter. He’s very understanding of your bad memory and tries his best to help you whenever he can.

He still wants to treat you like an adult and not limit your independence. He’ll write down the directions to your room so you won’t get lost or light the way with Magicians Red so you’ll only have to follow the cute little flames to your room.  

During the trip he’s always keeping an eye out for you, he’s keeping tabs on everyone which is tiring but he’ll gladly protect all of you.

One time in a little city not far out from the trip’s destination, you’d excused yourself to the bathroom of the restaurant you’d all been eating at. 15 minutes and counting, Avdol was starting to get nervous, thinking you’d been attacked by a stand or had somehow gotten lost again.

When he went to go check, he found you opening the service door with an annoyed look on your face. “Wrong again. I swear the exit was close by!” you grumbled. An embarrassed smile on your face when you see Avdol’s concerned one, quickly walking up to him. He let out a sigh of relief and hooked your arm in his so you’d stay by his side till you reached the dinner table again. Trying your best to hide your blushy cheeks from his stern hold on you.

Joseph

Joseph would go full helicopter mom. He’d make sure you were rarely alone, to your dismay. Always sending one of the boys along with you if you needed a bathroom break or to get something you forgot. He asked at least 10 times a day if you were ok and if you’ve eaten already.

You liked that he was concerned but his care was getting a little too involved. When a rare moment of spare time arrived while waiting for a car rental to go through, you had some time to browse shops. You saw a cute dress inside one of the colourful stores and thinking Joseph was following right behind you, like he is most of the time, you went into the shop to try it on.

Right in the middle of putting on the dress, your head halfway through the hole, you heard Joseph frantically calling your name through the store. Struggling with the dress you tried your best to respond, opening the dressingroom curtain so he could spot you.

He located you and ran towards your little dressing room with an angry look on his face. Ready to start his scolding, you stopped him before he could. “Joseph I’m an adult ok. I can do things by myself every once in a while.” explaining further how you can handle yourself and you know when to ask for help.

The two of you talking for a while, Joseph feeling bad for being a little too involved. He buys the dress for you and apologises, saying how he’s just very protective of you, that if he can’t even protect you, then how will he save Holly? After a big hug you both talked it out, making a system that helped you and put his mind at ease for the rest of the trip.

Polnareff

Polnareff rarely ever gets bothered about your forgetfulness. But sometimes his mouth moves faster than his brain and a crude comment gets spoken. You already felt bad about forgetting your bag in the car but his “Of course you did.” just added another level of guilt and now anger. The rest of the group seeming shocked at his words.

Even Polnareff himself doesn’t know what to say and remains with his mouth hanging open, sputtering like an old car and trying to apologise. You hadn’t replied, just silently got your bag from the car and returned with it on your shoulder, a cold dead stare in your eyes as you walked past him.

There was a heavy tension in the air everyone could feel. Polnareff had often accompanied you so you wouldn’t get lost, you knew he liked to keep you company so it was quite surprising to hear those words coming from him.

It was getting dark around the new camping spot you’d all picked out, the small campfire lighting a circle around it. Most of the group already asleep, you were on guard by your request. When Polnareff came to sit next to you, you didn’t move or say anything. Let him work his way out of this one.

He started apologising profusely, saying how he didn’t mean it and it was his tiredness talking. He kept saying how sorry he was and how much he liked you, even starting to tear up at his frustration that he hurt you. Deciding you let him suffer enough, you held his hand in response. “Don’t ever say that again, ok? I really try my hardest.” you tell him, still not meeting his gaze. He’ll have to continue to make it up to you.  

Kakyoin

Kayoin was often times your companion. He liked spending time with you and talking about all the stuff you had in common. Kakyoin was always there to help you out but quickly noticed whenever you didn’t need it.

He’d always be the one to put notes on stuff or write the time you had to be at the team meetups on your hand.

You felt proud of the youth, that he always knew how to act without overstepping. The two of you even having a few running jokes about forgetfulness or funny situations you’d found yourself in.

You had went a full day without forgetting the way or the time you’d all were going to meet up at the hotel. The sun was setting and you were feeling proud of yourself, having such a successful day deserves a celebration. After the full day of traveling everyone was ready for a little bit of relaxation.

You invited your team to the bar nearby, being in a good mood and all, promising to buy them a round. Kakyoin and you talking about how good of a day it was and Kayoin laughing a little too hard at a not so funny joke you made, questioning him why.

“Well, is now a good time to say you have pen on your face from your hand? It’s been there since morning.” you hit him on the shoulder, scolding him for only telling you now. “That’s it! I’m ordering you a glass of milk and sending you to bed, you big baby!” you yelled as he continued to laugh at you.  

Jotaro

Jotaro understood your forgetfulness but couldn’t help be annoyed by it. But he never showed or spoke about said annoyance. He knows you can’t help it. He just doesn’t feel like the most helpful person, he doesn’t think he can do anything to improve the situation since the rest of the group is always ready by your side.

Still, he always keeps an eye out for you, getting a little pang of anxiety if he doesn’t spot you after a thorough scan of his surroundings. He’s actually pretty good at finding you as well, knowing your patterns and the way you always seem to unconsciously favour the right side.

So when you’re late to the morning meetup, everyone already waiting in front of the hotel, Jotaro knows exactly where to go. Factoring in the location of your room he offers to go back inside to look for you, since he’ll only take a minute.

You had forgotten the meeting time was 9 am but you realised it at 8:47, so you quickly got ready and were out the door by 9. If only the inviting vending machine near the end of the hallway hadn’t grabbed your attention.

It was full of snacks and you were hungry, the growling in your stomach making you forget that you should have already been outside. You heard soft footsteps as you grabbed the wrapped snack you just bought when a hand grabs ahold of your collar. “Come on, we gotta go.” But before the two of you left, Jotaro made you buy snacks for everyone, as an apology gift.

[stillsearchingforsomething]

Everybody’s watching her but she’s looking at you

September 2014

"Karlie, can I talk to you about something?" Taylor asks, loathe to disturb the calm that they had been enjoying all weekend. Things had been manic for both of them for the past number of weeks with Taylor preparing for the imminent release of her fifth album in less than a month and Karlie having just finished up a hectic schedule of runway shows for New York fashion week.

When Taylor had suggested a weekend by the beach in Rhode Island to unwind, Karlie had happily accepted. They had spent the weekend on the beach, cooking outside and tangled up in the sheets of the king size bed, which is where they currently are, the salt air and evening sun streaming in through the open bedroom window.

"Sure," Karlie replies, suddenly nervous at the way Taylor is steadfastly refusing to meet her gaze.

"Tree sent me this," Taylor says, unlocking her phone and handing it to Karlie.

Karlie takes the phone that's handed to her and presses play on the video, confused as she watches a video of herself fill the screen of Taylor's phone. Karlie can feel the heat rush to her cheeks as she listens to herself gush when an interviewer asked her a question about Taylor. She had known at the time that she had probably gone overboard but she's so proud of her girlfriend, she can't help it at times. But she knows from the way Taylor is looking at her and the text from Tree that says 'we should probably talk about this' that she's in trouble.

"She asked me, what was I supposed to say?" Karlie groans, dropping Taylor's phone back to the mattress between them, the video having come to an end.

"Baby, you can't be so obvious about it," Taylor maintains.

"I didn't do it on purpose," Karlie protests. "I was just thinking about you and it just came out."

"Well, we'll be the ones coming out if you don't tone it down a little," Taylor teases but they both know that she's only half-joking.

Karlie drops her head back on her pillow and throws her arms over her face out of frustration, sighing loudly. Taylor can't help but think that she looks adorable so she turns her face into her pillow to hide her smile from Karlie.

"I'm sorry I'm so bad at this," Karlie says softly, peeking out at Taylor from behind the arm that's still resting on her forehead.

Something about the way Karlie says those words, her voice sounds so small and defeated that Taylor's heart clenches in her chest.

"Oh Karlie, no," Taylor says shaking her head as she rushes to reassure her girlfriend. She tugs softly on Karlie's arm, coaxing her to turn over so that she can meet her eyes.

Taylor knows how hard this has been for Karlie, she's not used to having to pretend to be anything other than herself and Taylor hates that she's the reason that they always have to be so careful. Karlie is naturally a very tactile person, whether it's pulling Taylor's legs on to her lap whilst they're sitting on the couch, wrapping her arms around Taylor's waist when they're cooking in the kitchen or even just a gentle hand on the small of her back when she's brushing past Taylor.

Taylor has lost count of the number of times they've out in public and she'll see Karlie instinctively go to reach for her hand or put a hand on her back to guide her and the only thing that stops her is the panicked look Taylor shoots her or a gentle shake of Taylor's head to remind her that they have to be more careful.

Taylor reaches out to cradle Karlie's face, her thumb gently stroking back and forth along the curve of her jaw. "I love that you're bad at it," Taylor whispers with a soft smile.

"I thought you were gonna say 'No Karlie, you're not bad at this, don't be so hard on yourself.'" Karlie says with an indignant huff, flopping back on the mattress.

Taylor can't help the laugh that bubbles out of her at Karlie's words, though she quickly schools her expression when Karlie shoots her a betrayed look.

Taylor bites her lip to suppress a smile and says in her most serious voice, "Karlie, you're not bad at this don't be so hard on yourself."

"It doesn't count now!" Karlie protests but Taylor can tell that she's fighting a smile and she accepts the kiss that Taylor brushes against her cheek in apology.

Taylor shuffles closer to Karlie, wrapping her arms around her, holding her close. "I'm serious though. It's one of the many things that I love about you," Taylor says softly, slipping her hand under the material of Karlie's shirt splaying her fingers against the soft, warm skin of her back.

"That I'm a bad liar?" Karlie asks, skepticism colouring her voice.

Taylor just nods her head but she can tell that Karlie doesn't believe her so she knows she's going to have to explain herself.

"I have never felt as happy and safe and secure in a relationship before. And that's because you," Taylor whispers with a smile at Karlie, who is listening intently to every word.

"You don't play games, or make me second-guess everything, or try to play it cool. All I have to do is look in your eyes or see your smile when you look at me and I know exactly how you feel. I know that you love me and you tell me all the time but I look at you and I can feel it," Taylor explains.

"That's because I do love you Taylor," Karlie says softly. "You're my girl," she adds with a shrug, as if no further explanation is necessary.

Taylor can't resist the urge to kiss Karlie; she's so fucking cute, so she leans in and does just that. Karlie maintains that she's not good with words but then she goes and says something simple and heartfelt that just melts Taylor.

"I love you so much Karlie," Taylor whispers against her lips when they pull apart. "We just need to make sure that the whole world doesn't know it too," she adds with a smile.

"What are we gonna do?" Karlie groans and she looks genuinely troubled by the question.

"I could just stop answering questions about you?" Karlie offers, thinking that there's no possible way she could mess that up.

"You could," Taylor considers. "Although that might have the opposite effect, if people think that we're fighting."

Karlie hums in agreement and purses her lips in thought as she tries to think of a plan that might work.

"We could try roleplaying it?" Taylor suggests, breaking Karlie out of her reverie and she rolls her eyes in advance knowing that Karlie won't be able to resist making a sex joke at her phrasing although she can't deny that she's pleased to see Karlie smiling again.

"Oooh kinky, babe," Karlie says with a smug smile.

"Karlie, I'm serious," Taylor maintains although she can't even really pretend to be annoyed when she hears Karlie's laughter.

"Ugh, fine," Karlie relents with a dramatic sigh.

"Okay, you be you and I'll ask the questions," Taylor instructs waiting for Karlie to nod her agreement before continuing.

"I'm here with fashion supermodel, genius coder and most beautiful woman in the entire world Karlie Kloss - tell us, what's it like being friends with Taylor Swift?" Taylor asks doing her best impression of an enthusiastic reporter, even holding out her hand to account for her imaginary microphone.

"I think this interviewer needs to try and keep it in her pants," Karlie fires back with a raised eyebrow.

"Karlie, come on," Taylor whines, skirting her fingers up Karlie's side in retribution.

"Fine!" Karlie exclaims, squirming away from Taylor's tickling.

"So what's it like being friends with Taylor Swift?" Taylor asks, snapping back into character.

"Eh, it's ok, nothing special," Karlie says with a nonchalant shrug.

"Karlie!" Taylor scolds shifting over so that she's settled comfortably on top of Karlie, her knees bracketing Karlie's hips and pinning her hands to the mattress. "A little more realistic please?"

"What?" Karlie gasps indignantly, her gaze trailing down the front of Taylor's loose shirt which offers a tantalising view of the swell of her chest from where Karlie is laying beneath her. Karlie gulps audibly and attempts to shake the sudden flash of heat that steals over her.

She brings her gaze back up to meet Taylor's and Taylor's poorly suppressed smile lets her know she's been caught staring.

"You told me to play it down it. I can't play it down it much more than that," Karlie shrugs, trying not to draw attention to how breathless she sounds.

"This is hopeless," Taylor sighs dramatically but she doesn't protest when Karlie uses her considerable strength to gently flip their positions so that Taylor is laying down with Karlie hovering over her.

"You love me," Karlie teases before swooping down to kiss her.

Inspired by Karlie's complete lack of chill whenever someone so much as mentions Taylor in her presence. Let me know what you think - comments make me smile and write faster.

[bibliocratic]

tread softly

S4 Canon Divergence + Mythological Creatures AU Mermaid!Sasha, Pheonix!Tim, Selkie!Martin

cws apply - see tags

Peter Lukas has always prided himself on the timing of his entrances.

He is not there, then he is. The ward slips colder, down into single digits. Martin gives a jerking shoulder-hunch motion when he notices his unexpected arrival, coupled with an intake of breath. No noise this time, no jumping, no explications of suddenness or surprise. Martin Blackwood takes well to both shock and silence with a delightful sufferance, and Peter is indulgently proud.

The lad is, as expected, by the Archivist’s bedside. Crone-backed, ringed with an satisfying corona of misery.  It’s after visiting hours, but Martin likely hasn’t even realised that the gaze of the ward staff and orderlies has simply grazed past him when he came up, when he took his traditional post, when they do their rounds. Martin has not wanted to be noticed, so he won’t be.

Peter idly watches the machinery and tubes threaded though the Archivist like mechanical embroidery. This one seems eminently more worse for wear than Gertrude ever was. Stronger, though. Peter watches Elias’ chosen as he lies still and sedate for all he stalks the landscape of dreamers, and wonders if he might see the Eye’s favoured come to fruition in a way Gertrude never did.

All the more reason to talk to Martin, it appears.

“What do you want?” Martin says. Dulled, thick-throated. He’s wiping his face free from damp with his baggy jacket sleeves, glowering at Peter with a delayed annoyance, as if he’s interrupted some no doubt tender petition for waking. The antiseptic stench of the hospital worsens the tension in his bones.

He is perfect for their God. Peter’s so pleased the Archivist wasn’t so careless to have lost this assistant like he nearly lost both of the others. Elias told him that the Corruption had already sought to burrow into the debris of this lost soul, that Martin has taken the mantle of archivist well, while Beholding’s chosen was indisposed. And it is true that Martin’s gaze is more assessing than he would like. But Peter knows that Forsaken has long laced Martin’s lining with mist and dew-damp cold, filled his stomach with fog far longer than those petty chancers have tried to have him in their maw. That his God’s touch has been settling like thronging, subdued snow in place of Martin’s sealskin.

“I wanted to see if you’d thought about my offer,” Peter replies genially. Pushing his hands in his pockets, ignoring Martin’s radiating desire to be left alone.

Martin has. Peter doesn’t need Elias’ pretty little parlour tricks to know that Martin has likely thought about little else.

“I’ve been a bit busy.”

“Oh right!” Peter says after a moment’s pause. It visibly annoys Martin that it didn’t come to mind faster. “That spot of bother with the Flesh. All sorted now, I’m sure!”

“Why didn’t you do something to stop them?”

Peter crinkles his face in a deliberate confusion. Casting out his line.

“Why, what should I have done?”

Martin takes the bait with ease.

“It’s your job, isn’t it?” His voice pitches with accusation. His hands ball into fists, and he moves to standing, the chair complaining as it’s pushed back. “It’s your responsibility! You’re in charge now Elias is gone.”

“Thanks to you,” Peter replies smoothly. “And your companions seemed to do a good enough job. A few bruises here and there, a few near misses. Nothing they won’t heal from.”

Peter slides closer. Just a step. It makes his skin sing discordant at the proximity, but Martin stiffens, an anxious intake of air despite himself, and Peter knows he’s paying attention.

“I could ask you the same question,” he says.

“What do you mean?”

“Why didn’t you do something to stop them?” Peter doesn’t sound judgemental. He doesn’t have to, Martin will paint on layers of meaning without overdoing this particular nuance of his game. “It was very impressive, watching you all. They all held their own very well. Except you. You could argue I suppose, that it’s not the same. That you’re not like the mer or the firebird or the sphinx, no added little genetic extras, and you don’t get any boost from any old helpful Power like that police officer, or the angry one touched by the Slaughter. You’re just Martin. And that’s… that’s the problem, isn’t it? Just Martin. Nothing to offer in the fight, no way to protect them. Holding them back. They could have been hurt, and you wouldn’t have been able to do, well, anything at all.”

“I…” Martin says, and Peter takes another step.

“The Extinction is a pressing threat. There isn’t time for me to wait while you finish your grave-side widow routine. I need you to help me, and it would be only fair, in return, for me to help you.”

“Oh, what, you can fix me then?” Martin snaps.

“Not at all,” Peter says. Smiling, because he is so funny, with his rage sputtering in a fog that seeks to tamp it flameless, stumbling headlong and blinded into the conversational pitfalls Peter’s dug behind him. “No, no, I’m afraid you’re broken, Martin. I speak from experience when I say you’ll never grow your skin back.”

Martin freezes. He looks Peter up and down like he’s expecting to see something different, the scales fallen from his eyes, but this is the only skin Peter has worn for so long now, and he endures the slightly prickling gaze of Martin’s Eye-touched observation.

“You… You were – ?”

“A long time ago. Before the Lonely granted me a better shroud to cloak myself in. It is not a selfish God, Martin. It offers gifts, or payment, if you prefer that way of understanding it, to those who work in aid of its ends. Benefits that could protect your friends, should something as unfortunate as the Flesh’s assault occur again.”

“And what about Jon?”

“He’ll wake up. Or he won’t.” Peter replies cheerily. “Either way, you can’t do anything for any of them like this.”

Martin gives him a scowl. Peter lets it pass over him. He knows, before Martin even opens his mouth, that he’s won.

Sasha avoids the sea.

She does not know why. Its pull is no lesser through her absence. She has dreams of sinking and never coming up for air, and she does not know if it is serenity in the ceaseless drop or despairing surrender. She marks the high days and festivals of her people alone and unremarked upon, speaks to her landward kin infrequently and vaguely. She needs to be here, she tells herself harshly. She can’t go off when there’s so much to do, when she’s in the process of losing so much. One of her family cold and vanishing, one breathing through a machine, and one… he died, died properly, and although he came back purged of something poisonous, the shrapnel scarring of collapsed masonry on his skin and the reddest, warmest wings sprung from his back, this does not settle her terrors.

She cannot leave. Not when she could lose sight of her splintering shoal so easily. Not when she’s unsure the temptation to dive down and out, deeper, further away, wouldn’t ensnare her to cowardice.

She finds the first scales in the shower. It’s a myth that any water will have the skin of her legs go slick, then bumpy, fusing into one muscled tail with her scales folding outwards. She can have showers and baths without impact. It’s the sea, that is the essential component. The same for most deepwater kin. Not the sea, maybe, or exactly, but what it represents in the change. It’s something about floating out into endless space clad only in human skin and human lungs and trusting not to drown. The letting go of one form with the tide and permitting the waves to bring forth another.

Her scales are dimmed, like they’ve smudged. Their colour diminished.

It’s not a molt. Her people don’t. Tim does, normally annually. Before they travelled to Yarmouth, he’d been dropping feathers around the office almost continually with stress. Nesting, and growing in new and painful sections of wing, snapping with a yo-yoing temper.

Tim notices. Maybe because he’s the only one left. Basira is holed up somewhere of course, as is Melanie, but it’s not the same. They weren’t here before, they don’t have the context for how much their group is diminished, falling to pieces slowly like her own skin is.

They’ll be visiting Jon later. She hasn’t seen Martin in weeks.

Tim approaches slowly. Looks at the flakes of blue in her hand. Understand flowers gently in his eyes, and he reaches out and touches her arm, and she forgot the world could manifest in ways other than hurtful.

“You OK there, Sash?” Tim asks.

“I don’t know,” she replies. “I don’t… I just…  When did it all go so wrong?”

“I dunno,” Tim repeats, and he doesn’t move away and she doesn’t want him to. “God, I – I don’t know, Sash.”

Jon’s clothes are dirt-clotted, ripped up by the grind of rock, and holding him tarnishes Tim’s feathers grey, smudges the pattern on his t-shirt into obscurity. His teeth are chattering, goosebumps bobbling up his arms and making the dark hairs up his arms stand on end. Tim suspects it’s more shock than cold.

Sasha brought him a glass of water, holding her palm under it because Jon’s long-fingered grip is so shaky it’s sloshing the water up the sides.

“Told you the rib was a shit idea, huh?” Tim says. Played as a joke and deliberately shorn of any accusation. He breathes in-and-out and Jon follows the rise and fall, and it benefits both of them. Tim’s getting better at control. He’s had to. His anger grows in like pinfeathers but so does his grief these days, a full plumage of emotions he is learning to deal with.

Jon coughs up something that could be agreement, but is mostly dirt and grave soil over Tim’s shirt.

You should have waited for us, Tim thinks but does not say because there would be too much teeth in it, and Jon’s skin is already whittling down to skeletal. We asked you not to go, we wanted a better plan, why didn’t you wait.

You could have died, down there in the dark, and we wouldn’t have even had a body to mourn, he does not say.

We love you, you idiot. We love you and even that wasn’t enough to stop you leaving, he does not say.

We’re already losing Martin, he does not say.

A room full of looping, chattering, overlapping tape recorders. Neither Tim nor Sasha stacked them, and Jon would not have thought to.

It should be a reassurance, that Martin’s been here.

God, Tim hopes he knows what he’s doing.

Sasha rubs at Jon’s back, helps him sip another small trickle. Tim’s wings, voluminous and unwieldy, knock over recorders in a clattering collapse as he scoops them around to shield them both. Against the balmy heat Tim’s throwing out, Jon’s shivers gradually subside.

“Daisy?” Jon murmurs. His teeth are grimy with soil.

“She’s with Basira,” Tim replies.

Sasha’s picked up the rib that’s dropped out of Jon’s clenched palm. Wiping the grime off it and staring at it without clear expression.

“Why, Jon?” she asks.

“I wanted to help,” Jon says. His words small, like he’s embarrassed that he even thought of it. “Even if it was one person. I wanted to be able to do something good for a change.”

“You could have died,” Tim says.

Jon’s horrible flat chuckle scrapes over his lips.

“I’m not sure I can anymore.”

“Yeah…” Tim replies subdued. He glances at the red daggers of his feathers and thinks he understands that.

“I wonder what it would take,” Jon says idly, slurring with exhaustion, and Tim grips him closer and hopes he never finds out.

Martin doesn’t react when Sasha sits down near him. The breeze, a vicious snagging chill tussles his hair, some wisps twisting into nothingness like smoke from an extinguished candle. She is still getting used to this Martin, or perhaps the Martin he never let others see. The toned-down stillness of him, the undisturbed waters of his expression. His skin not quite solid, the patches that have returned pale, sickly-pallored in the softening dim of moonlight. The rest of him is a coalition of fog, a hazy motion to his image like he’s wave-rocked, smoked out.

Long minutes pass. Sasha sits down cross-legged. The waves ripple up the stones that make up the strip of beach surrounding the loch, and they’re hard and uncomfortable under her.

“I can’t swim, you know,” Martin says finally. The sea is louder than he is, and he can make himself so quiet these days.

“No?”

Sasha keeps her tone light, inquisitive without intensity. Martin shakes his head, and his image lags, skipping disjointed, like his connection is poor.

More silence. Sasha doesn’t know what she should say, where Martin’s thoughts are at. She scratches behind the base of her gills, rubs at the dorsal fins sitting mostly flat under her sleep shirt.

“I didn’t live too far from the sea,” Martin continues. Looking at the wavering mirage of his hands without comment. She doesn’t even know if he recognises her presence. “We had Liverpool about an hour away. Even Blackpool, I guess. My primary school had a swimming club, where they’d pack them off to the big leisure centre on a coach afterschool. Kids’d get these little medals for managing like five metres, or ten, fifteen. But there was a small fee, and Mum said…” He snorts out a dismissive breath and his face twists, and neither of these actions suit him. “Doesn’t matter. I never went, and I never learnt, and that was that.”

“You could always come swimming with me?” Sasha proposes slowly. Lost in the swell of this conversation, why Martin’s talking about the sea, what this has to do with anything. She wishes he’d look at her.

Martin doesn’t answer immediately. He might not have even heard her.

“I told Peter, and he said that made it even better. That it was a such a – ” he says the word with a sneer, the words sharp-toothed in his mouth “ – gift, that I’d never even had the opportunity to know what I would miss, not even a memory to embellish or to sour. That there was so much that could root in absence. He said I should be grateful.”

“Peter Lukas said a lot of shit,” Sasha says.

She shuffles closer to him. Puts her hand on his knee.

“Whatever he told you was bollocks, you know that right?”

Martin blinks. After a moment, his hand joins over hers. His image grows denser, less likely to be stolen by the midnight air.

His eyes, fixed out on a horizon point in the slick dark of the loch, are still distant.

“I just wish I understood why she did it,” Martin murmurs.

“Who?”

“I did some research. After Elias… after I found out. I couldn’t have been the only person, and it’s rare enough but there are – help groups… you know, therapists that specialise in that kind of stuff. But I didn’t… I couldn’t face going to one. I thought that… knowing what was so wrong with me would make it easier, but it didn’t. All my life, I…. I was stupid enough to think it might be something I could fix. If – if I changed myself enough, if I said the right things, loved the right people, then I might… that someone could fix me. But it can't be fixed. That’s what all the leaflets said. That it was best to think of it like a permanent injury. Like having a stroke, or some sort of brain damage or something like that. Something irreparable.”

“Martin, sweetheart…” Sasha starts. She doesn’t understand. The flotsam of Martin’s speech grows erratic and he’s started shivering, and it’s no wonder, dressed in a t-shirt, pyjama trousers and some thick socks.

“Do you know much about selkies, Sash?” Martin powers on. Chattering teeth and goosebumps and it’s like he’s drawing something out of himself, some infection long done its damage. “Not many of them left, and they don’t usually venture landward like some of the other deepwater species. They mate for life apparently. Staunchly social communities, and some of them can’t… can’t cope, if they lose their group, or their partner. They take off their pelt, and just swim off to drown. A-and those help groups and therapists, those people who had theirs stolen, or destroyed… they’re, god, they’re all terminal. They last six months, maximum. Because it kills them, losing it. They waste away and they die. And here’s me…” Martin’s face twists again, and it’s bitter and angry and despairing all at once, “and I just get to keep going.”

“Selkies…?” Sasha says. “Why are you….”

She trails off in a gradually dawning horror.

“Martin?”

“She burnt it,” Martin says, his tone stringing higher now, distress sweeping in like a squall to break up the unnatural apathy in his voice. “I don’t think she knew what it would… I mean, I don’t know, maybe she did, maybe she wanted me gone just like dad, I don’t know, and I’ll never know because I can’t ask her why. I didn’t even… it was so long ago. I was sick and then I got worse and it was awful and I didn’t understand why I was so ill, why everything hurt just so much… and after, when I was better, Mum said it was appendicitis. I believed her. Course I did, why wouldn’t I. I didn’t know… not until Elias, and I’ll never know what I’ve lost, or why it didn’t kill me, maybe it was because I was so young, or because it’s only from one side of the family, I don’t –  I don’t know! I’ll never know! It’s a whole part of me that she just… she just took a-a-and…”

Martin’s back bows like whalebone. He takes long shuddering breaths like his words are keelhauling across his lungs.

Sasha’s never heard of a selkie with only half their soul. She can’t imagine, what it would do to someone.

She moves in front of Martin and he moves forward against her like a wave crash. He’s taller and heavier than her, and the impact pushes her back momentarily before her arms catch him.

“Breathe, sweetheart,” she says, “You can do it, breathe.” She holds him so surely, and she always will. And he starts crying then, the first time since Jon was in hospital, and he won’t or can’t stop shivering, and it is horrible to hear every emotion inside him claw itself back from the brink.

She keeps telling him to breathe, and he keeps following that instruction through sniffling and sobbing and broken-voiced confusion,  and she counts it as a small victory nonetheless.

Jon’s mouth cannot scream.

Tim’s in the next room, the kitchen, drying plates and bowls and cutlery, within shouting distance, and he’d be here in a moment – he’d help if only Jon could speak a word other than his unbidden, unwanted recitation.

Jon’s mouth doles out its terrible missive, and he doesn’t not feel like a person as Elias rolls out the triumphant red carpet of his plotting and scheming, the self-satisfied weave of his grand finale. And no, he’s not a person, not for a long time now;  he’s a catalogue, a testimony, an archive, and he would never have chosen this.

His hands scrabble at his throat, and his eyes are blurred with tears, his vision obscured, but it does not seem to matter, for his skin ripples and sloshes like an inkwell and a hundred eyes swell and pop and inflate again like bubbles against his skin.

Someone else screams. And the multitude of Jon’s eyes are newborn, fractal-imaged, gummed up with a feast of far-reaching horror all witnessed by him, overseen and devoured in his sight, and it is hard to translate what his original set of open, weeping eyes see. There is motion. Commotion. There are apologies being spoken in his ears, fervent, petitionary, but he is hearing the rising insistent thrum of the summoning and it is as sickening as it is beautiful. Someone is holding a hand hard over his mouth, the grip painful and punishing but even then the words burble out through the cracks. Another hand clamps over his eyes, and he shrieks and thrashes as his words gather to a crescendo.

A hand tears the paper from his grip. There is an acrid whoosh of smoke. Jon drops like the rigging of a ship being torn down. The hands at his mouth and eyes lower quickly to loop around his waist, catch him and hold him up.

Jon sees Tim, wide-eyed and shimmering with terror even as his skin burns gold and his feathers shine and there are only sooty flakes left of Jonah’s statement, scattering down from his palms.

He thinks it’s Martin behind him. Jon folds further, all his weight pitching forward and Martin’s forced to come down with him as he retches the leftover words in his mouth; king of a ruined world, he vomits up with bile and ink, and it splashes with a disgusting slop over the living room floor.

Sasha’s partially webbed hands are holding back his hair as he hacks and gags, his lips stained black, his stomach heaving as he chokes on everything that comes up, his stomach roiling with an overwhelming nausea.  Conduit of fear, he brings up, dribbling from his lips like paper pulp.

After a long while, it’s over. Sasha carries him to the bathroom, and helps him clean up, although Jon has little memory of it.

He wakes, feeling like a shipwreck, and Tim is there. Sat nearby, his head in his hands. His fingertips stained with ink and soot. He can hear Martin and Sasha talking in low tones nearby.

They're still here. Even now, he’s surprised that they haven’t left him.

And Jon has no words remaining, so his body betrays him with airless, silent tears, at all he could have wrought upon this world, at all the suffering he could have brought to their door to still be granted forgiveness for.

It is not the end. It is an interlude, a reprieve. In some ways a kindness, and in others, waiting is its own cruelty.

They’ve bought blankets to the beach in order to cushion the hardness of the stones rounded by tide and time. It’s the first time they’ve gotten Jon to come outside for more than a few minutes.  The scratches up the column of his throat healing. His voice still damaged, scratchy and scraped from misuse.

They’ll have to be moving on soon. To make plans for whatever future they need to avoid.

She sits up, and stretches out from where she’s been lying against Tim’s thigh. Glances at Jon, barely four metres away on a separate towel. Grey-haired and tired-eyed. Martin’s holding his hand, the left one crinkled by burns, as they talk about something treasured for its meaningless. Despite everything, Jon’s face practises relearning its smiles, even as he touches tentative at the marks around his neck, the bruising at the edges of his mouth.

The tension has not faded from Tim’s shoulders. His plumage sharp and strange even now. Her own scales patchy and bare, whole sections that have not grown back.

She considers her battered but striving shoal, and wants to show them that their past is not all there will ever be. That there will be an after-this, whatever that looks like. She wishes they spoke her tongue, so she could gift them names, new names, for the things they have become, this things that they have survived, and all that has survived them.

“Martin!” she shouts over, a sudden inspiration seizing her. “Want to come in the water with me?”

Martin’s expression barrels through at least three iterations before it hovers between wary and uncomfortable.

“I – er… I might just be better off here, actually.”

“No pressure,” she tells him, and she means it, for all she remembers that he has never had the chance to know the sea as she has, to feel his whole weight held up by the water. “But I am a pretty spectacular swimming teacher. I promise I won’t let go.”

Martin, to his credit, thinks about it. Gnaws on his lip, stares away from her and at his knees. Next to her, she can feel Tim bite back an enthusiastic declaration of encouragement for fear of spooking him.

Martin stands gingerly, and she is so proud of him.

“I haven’t got a costume,” he says.

“Your boxers will be fine.”

“We want something pretty to look at, show us those legs, Martin!” Tim says. He times the tone playful, the perfect balance of joking and complementing, and it works, with Martin’s blushing and ‘shut it Tim’ distracting him from the enormity of his decision as he neatly folds up his jeans, and takes off his shoes and socks. Sasha peels off her long skirt, rolls down her tights. She dislikes shoes on principle, and rarely wears them.

The rocks dig into the soles of Martin’s feet as they waddle down to the shore, slow going and interspersed with wincing.

She takes his hand as they stop, stand a foot from the border between land and sea.

“We’ll just go a little way out,” she promises. “The water’s fairly calm but for your first time…”

“I don’t think I can do this,” Martin whispers. He hesitates, and she waits for his decision.  And then, he creeps forward, and she follows. He swears vehement as the water hits his toes, and he almost balks to feel the frigid temperature, but he pushes forward, his swearing getting more and more creative the further he walks out against the tide.

From the headland, someone cheers, likely Tim.

“Don’t look at them,” Sasha says. “Come on, this is all you, ok?”

Her legs unfuse into her tail, and she shivers out a feeling like cramp, luxuriating in the sensation against her skin.

Martin tentatively wades out. He’s tall, but there’s a point where he stops, knowing to move forward means his feet won’t touch the ground.

“A little further, yeah?” Sasha encourages, and he nods jerkily, a frantic up-and-down, his expression petrified. “You can do this. Don’t look at the water. Look at me.”

Keeping her eyes fixed on his, she pulls him slowly into deeper waters. His fingers are pressing rounded marks into her forearms. His leg gestures are sloppy, thrashing, and at one point he dips below the surface with the disturbance he’s making, and he splutters as he resurfaces, surging up, eyes bulging in a betrayed panic. She continues to reassure him and doesn’t let go as they stop and simply float, the shoreline easily in sight.

“How does it feel?” she asks.

“Wet,” he grumbles. Clearly concentrating, he treads, kicking out in a motion that gradually finds rhythm.

For a long while, it is them and the sea. The waves rub up against the bare patches in her scales, but the reminder is not painful.

Martin’s breathing calms. His terror recedes, and he looks down at the obscured water under them.

“Can we go out a bit further?”

She’s not doing as much pulling now. She shows him how to use his arms to push himself through water, and stopping and starting, correcting his gestures and posture and breathing as they go, they drift further out before stopping again, hanging suspended above the depths.

Martin smiles at his own unexpected success. He lets out a long, satisfied sound like something’s loosened in him for the first time.

His eyes, completely black, reflect the dour and overcast midday sun.

“Martin, your eyes.”

“What’s wrong with them?” Martin says, but no – he doesn’t say, he barks, and then gasps, and then barks again, stunned, unsettled. He doesn’t look upset. He’s bitten his lip with his too-sharp teeth that now line his gums, and he touches the sharp pain it has caused with incredulity, his still human fingers marking out the sensation of the new.

“What’s happening?” he asks and Sasha grins, and says “I don’t know, Martin, I don’t know” and he’s splashing, a seal without skin, something entirely himself, shivering minutely in the cold shock even as his smile shows off his pointed teeth. He barks again, the sound almost jolted out of him as he figures out how it works, and she trills in delight, and it sets him off grinning and kicking. And for the moment, for this moment, the Lonely is banished entirely landbound, and there is only them treading water, surrounded by the endless sea and trusting they will not drown.

They have to go back to land eventually. The waves around them start to wash choppy, the sky colours grey with the surety of rain. They swim back, and sometimes Sasha lets go, bobbing near his elbow as he swims slowly but steadily on his own.

Martin’s teeth flatten when they crawl onto the shore, panting and burbling out the dregs of their laughter. Tim and Jon have come over to greet them, Jon holding the towels and garments like an overladen clothes tree. Tim chucks Sasha a towel to fold around herself into a makeshift skirt before her tail bisects back into legs.

“Tim, Tim, Tim!” Sasha says excitedly, waving her hands and gesticulating.  “Did you see, did you see?”

“See what…?” Tim starts, but he glances at Martin, whose eyes are slow to fade from black to blue, and Tim might not realise what exactly has happened, but he senses the tenor of the mood because he’s barrelling in, knocking into Martin, wrapping him in a hug and nearly smothering him with his wings. Once released, Jon approaches slowly, putting his burdens down. Martin glances up at him, almost anxious now that the initial buzz is wearing down, but Jon goes softly to his knees, and his smile spreads across his face like paint in water.

The grey of the sky feels far off as they allow themselves the momentarily uncomplicated gift of being happy.

[myrandomfandomramblings]

Angela’s “Baby Shower” - a The Rookie Fanfic

At 35 weeks pregnant Angela was over it. She was sick of always having to run to the bathroom.  She was done with the fogginess in her brain interfering with her work. She was over the sore back and hips and feet that came from carrying an extra 30 pounds in her abdomen and she was tired of being so tired after being unable to find a comfortable sleeping position. But mostly she just no longer wanted to feel so different. She hated being too exhausted to go out with her friends after shift and even if she was feeling up for it she always had to get water while everyone else got their cocktail of choice. She was frustrated at being unable to bend down easily when investigating crime scenes and having to rely on others to find all the evidence. She also disliked the attention she got because of her pregnancy. Everybody always seemed to be looking at her belly, asking her when she was due, how she was doing and cooing about the joys of parenthood. She was excited about the baby and couldn’t wait to meet her little bundle of joy but she also craved normalcy, to just feel like herself and be a part of the group instead of sticking out like a sore thumb. So when Wesley pitched the idea of a baby shower to celebrate her and their little one, yet to be born, she vetoed that idea fast and hard. When she shared her reasoning her Fiancé nodded.

“I understand where your coming from but you actually gave me a really good idea for a baby shower that I’m sure you’ll love. Do you trust me?” he asked.

She had nodded and agreed to let him throw her a baby shower with the caveat that she could pull the plug at anytime.

Which brought them to the day of the baby shower, a Saturday, two weeks later.  

Wesley had kept the entire thing a surprise so Angela was thoroughly confused as she watched him unpack a number of crates and garbage bags from the truck and bring them into the downtown park where she sat.

“What is all this?” She asked. 

“You’ll see,” he replied giving her a wink. “Once everyone gets here.”

20 minutes later everyone was there. Lucy, Jackson, Tim, Nolan, and Harper. Grey wanted to come but had to work.

“Welcome everyone,” Wes announced, “today we will be competing to see who is the most badass pregnant person.” At this point everyone including Angela was looking at Wesley like he had grown a second head but he pushed on. “There will be three challenges: an escape room, laser tag and a contraction simulator and you will be divided into two teams. Angela as our guest of honour you get to pick your two teammates.”

“Nyla and Lucy,” Angela said immediately. She still didn’t really understand what they were doing but she had the feeling girl power was the way to victory.

Lucy and Harper excitedly moved over to Angela, giving each other high fives.

“Guess that means we’re a team,” Nolan said draping his arms around Jackson and Tim’s shoulders.

“Great,” Tim replied rolling his eyes. Angela wasn’t sure if he was mad because she didn’t choose him or because he wasn’t on the same team as Lucy either way she was looking forward to kicking his butt.

“OK now the last thing to do before we start the competition is to pregnify everyone,” Wesley stated.

“I feel like I should make some sort of joke about how babies are made but I think I’ll wait to see where you’re going with this,” Nolan offered.

“First everyone put one of these on,” Wesley said as he reached into a garbage bag and brought out a handful of wrap baby carriers which he handed out. Once everybody had theirs on he opened the lids of several storage containers.

“Now everyone, come grab a balloon and put them in your carrier.”

“Wow these are heavier than I expected. What’s in them?” Jackson asked as he lifted a balloon out of the tub.

“They’re full of water and some sand,” Wesley answered, “and they each way exactly 30 lbs, the average amount of weight gained in pregnancy. I weighed them myself.”

“Is that why you asked me where the scale was the other night?” Angela asked

Wesley confirmed before moving on. “Next everyone grab a hoodie to put over your bundle of joy,” he said opening another garbage bag.

“It’s at least 80 degrees we don’t need hoodies,” Tim complained.

“It’s to replicate the heat generated by a growing baby,” Wesley replied, “plus I had a lot of fun with them.”

Tim rolled his eyes but obediently put on the last hoodie.

All the hoodies were bright neon colours (Lucy pink, Harper purple, Jackson green, Nolan yellow and Tim blue) and had pregnancy announcements written on the front in thick black letters: ‘Baby on Board’, ‘Coming summer 2021’, ‘Eating for two’, etc. 

“There’s one for you too if you want it Ange, but you don’t have to wear it,” Wesley said. “Now the last thing, well things,” he added bringing out a bottle of Benadryl and stack of medicine cups, “since I can’t give you brain fog I’m just going to make you drowsy. Everybody take a medicine cup and wash it down with one of these,” he said opening a cooler lid to reveal a stack of 1L water bottles, “the whole thing.”

“I’m going to have to pee so bad,” Lucy joked as she started to drink her water.

“That’s the idea,” Wesley replied.

They spent the next 20 minutes finishing their waters, waiting for the Benadryl to kick in and admiring their new ‘bellies’.

Angela laughed as Jackson yelled “belly bump,” while running then jumping towards Lucy who met him in the air before the force knocked them both off their feet. She laughed even harder watching them try and fail to get up on their own until Wesley came to help them. She happily accepted a belly bum from Jackson once he had taken them down a notch (or several) as did everyone else but Nolan who was excessively protecting his fake fetus, shielding his stomach with his arms and body whenever anybody approached. Angela watched her friends, thoroughly entertained by their antics. She was especially enjoying the effect a visibly pregnant Lucy was having on Tim.  He was constantly stealing glances at her and when she smoothed her hoodie over her stomach and asked him how she looked his cheeks flushed and Angela was pretty sure she heard him stutter. This was confirmed by Nyla who had come up beside her and after a quick poke at Tim started reminiscing about her own pregnancy with Lila, which got the two woman talking and comparing notes. She was vaguely aware of Lucy who had taken her phone out and was now taking pictures and videos of everybody but didn’t fully turn her attention back to the others until Wesley said it was time for the first challenge: the escape room.

They walked to the escape room place which was only about a block away with minimal whining and a lot of perplexed looks from passers by. Once they got there they split into their teams and went to their respective rooms. The girls’ room was sorcerer’s lair themed and overall they got through it pretty smoothly. They had a few bumps in the road: by 20 minutes in they were all crossing their legs trying to hold their pee, Lucy fell asleep once while sitting at a table trying to decode a message and Nyla debated trying to use one of the magic wands in their room to pop her balloon. “Now I remember why I only had one. This was not easy,” she said as she slid down the wall to sit on the floor. But overall they worked together really well and had a lot of fun just talking about anything and everything as they solved all the puzzles and escaped the room. 

 When the girls were done, after a quick trip to the bathroom, they joined Wesley in the control booth to watch the guys via video and they seemed to be having a much harder time.  Jackson was trying to decode the message Lucy had but was becoming visibly more and more frustrated as he rubbed his temples and verbally demanded and pleaded with his brain to work. Nolan was trying to bend down to open a trap door (Angela had opened theirs with a broom handle) but couldn’t quite reach it without nearly falling over. After many failed attempts he eventually used the chair as a support bar to lower himself to the ground then push himself back up once the door was open. Meanwhile Tim kept swearing under his breath as he accidentally knocked various things off shelves and tables with his fake belly when he forgot how far out it reached. Luckily one of the things he knocked off opened when it hit the floor to reveal a key they needed to escape the room, which Nolan was able to retrieve with his new chair technique. Shortly after, Jackson succeeded in decoding his clue and from there they proceeded to finish the room pretty quickly and easily.

After another bathroom break they headed to the food trucks for a quick lunch where they mostly sat in content silence as everyone happily shovelled food into their mouths. This silence was only punctuated by the occasional comment that was either gloating or trash talk or by Tim barking “What are you looking at?” at people eyeing the group.

Next they headed to laser tag. Which Wesley had booked privately, so they had the whole place to themselves. The rules were simple every time you shot a member of the opposing team your team earned a point. First team to 30 won. Everybody seemed to have a good time. Angela laughed at her friends as they tried to sneak up on or out run each other, both techniques that were being significantly impacted by their fake pregnancies. Nolan at one point declared that the more aggressively you waddled the faster you could go and spent the rest of the game darting around like a mad penguin. He was ultimately successful in getting 6 points for his team using this technique which was significantly more than the 1 point he got before implementing it. Jackson on the other hand found a good hiding place in a high traffic area and would shoot the opposing team anytime they came by. Although initially this strategy was very successful and he quickly racked up 10 points, once the ladies realized their vests always lit up red when they passed that area they made a plan and were able to all find and corner him in his hiding spot. By the time he got away they had got 10 points themselves. Tim tried to use a lot of the same techniques he used at work or at paintball but unfortunately for him, although  they were efficient Lucy knew all of them and was able to use that knowledge to her advantage. The girls took a different approach and worked more as a team. They used some techniques from work and also had fun designing and implementing crazy plans, including one of them acting as bait to lure the guys in and the other two blind-siding them. When all was said and done the guys won 30-29. The girls attributed this to Tim and Nolan’s height advantage. They were able to see over all the obstacles but it could also be that the girls were having a little to much fun making elaborate plans that weren’t necessarily the most practical (the gun tricks looked cool but significantly decreased their shooting accuracy). Nonetheless, Angela had the greatest total points with 16. 

Following laser tag everybody was really happy but also extremely exhausted and they outright refused to walk the ten minutes back to the park despite the fact that because they were downtown it would take twice as long to drive their in traffic. While everybody went pee again Wesley walked back and brought the van. 

“I call middle row,” Harper yelled as Wesley pulled into the parking lot. 

“Me too,” West added. 

Angela took the passenger seat which left Nolan, Lucy and Tim to squeeze into the back row. Because Lucy was the smallest she was forced to take the middle seat but it didn’t seem to matter to her as she fell asleep almost immediately and spent the 20 minute ride leaning against Tim, head on his shoulder. They woke her up once they were back at the park but only after they had taken a couple pictures. 

Once they all got out of the van Wesley told them they could take off their hoodies and fake bellies. Tim and  Nyla quickly took off their stuff and helped Wesley set up for the labour simulation. Meanwhile the three newly minted P2’s goofed around. Nolan pretended to be giving birth taking quick breaths and squeezing Lucy’s hand as he pushed his balloon out the bottom of the carrier where Jackson caught it. Then working together the three of them lifted the balloon above their heads and belted out ‘The Circle of Life.’ Following the end of their song they too quickly shed their layers then went to join the rest of the group gathered in front of a folding beach chair that had been set up. 

“Alright everyone welcome to the final and tie-breaking event,” Wesley announced.

“Tied?” Angela questioned. “We beat the guys by at least half an hour in the escape room and they only beat us by one point at laser tag. We are winning.” 

“That’s not how this works babe. But don’t worry because you will be sitting this one out because you have to go through real labor in a couple weeks, I will be taking your spot and I will make sure your team wins.”

“You better,” Angela replied teasingly.

“Alright this is the labour simulator,” Wesley explained holding up a small device, “We stick these electrodes to your stomach and this machine will deliver electricity which will result in fake contracts that range in intensity from 1-10,” he pointed to a dial on the machine. “According to the instruction book 1 is like mild period cramps, 4 is Braxton-Hicks contractions, 8 is full blown labour and 10 is just full blown torture. Whichever team can tolerate the highest combined score wins. Oh and tolerate means experience that setting for at least ten seconds without ripping the leads off your body. Any questions?” When everybody shook their heads he continued. “Who wants to go first?”

“I will,“ Jackson offered making his way to the chair. Wesley stuck the electrodes to his abdomen then he was ready to go. 

He jumped initially on the first setting since he had no idea what to expect but after that he was pretty calm just clenching his jaw as the pain was increased. That is until he got to 6.

“Can I hold somebody’s hand?” he asked, “That’s a thing, right?”

Both Lucy and Nolan immediately stood up.

“How about two hands,” Nolan suggested seeing this.

“Even better,” Jackson replied intertwining his left hand with Nolan’s and his right with Lucy’s. 

This was enough to get him through 7 and 8 as he channeled all his pain into his friends, crushing their hands, but one second into 9 and he immediately pulled the leads off.

“Great job Jackson,” Wesley said as everyone patted him on the back, “Who’s next.”

Lucy went next and didn’t so much as flinch until 5 at which point she decided she was going to try meditation. This helped her through 6 and 7 at which point she too wanted hands to squish. Although both Jackson and Nolan offered, Lucy’ teammates decided it was their job. Between crushing her friends hands and focusing on her breathing she got through 8 rather easily. She clearly struggled more with 9. Jackson, Nolan and Wes were counting down. “Ten, Nine, Eight, Seven,” Angela felt Lucy’s grip loosen in her own. She was going to pull off the leads that is until Tim spoke up, “Come on Chen. You’ve got this. You’re strong,” he said and Lucy’s grip tightened back around Angela’s. “Three, Two, One, Done.” Everybody cheered as Lucy released her team mates hands and opened her eyes. “Sorry team but that’s enough for me I’m not trying 10,” she said as she removed the electrodes from her stomach.

“You did great,” Angela said and patted Lucy’s shoulder.

Tim went next. Rather than closing his eyes he fixed his glare on the machine in Wesley’s hand as if he could intimidate it in to giving up.  He also refused to hold anyone’s hand and instead gripped the armrests of the chair. By the time he got to 8 he was gripping so hard he broke the arm of the chair but still some how managed to maintain a near neutral expression throughout the entire experience. At this point Lucy insisted on holding the hand that had broken the chair. When he pointed out that he was worried he would hurt her she stubbornly grabbed his hand in both of hers, “I’m strong, remember.” With Lucy’s help Tim too made it through 9 and like his former rookie decided to end it there.

Harper went next. Although she was clearly in pain she was able to do 10 by focusing on her breathing, holding her friends hands and thinking about Lila. 

“How did you do that?” Jackson asked awe in his voice.

“When I was in labour with Lila I had contractions that were at least the intensity of 8 that lasted a minute each for like eight hours. One ten second one is a piece of cake.”

“You didn’t have an epidural?” Nolan asked

Harper shook her head, “I was being stubborn. I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it.”

“You’re very impressive, but I have nothing to prove to anyone. I’m getting an epidural,” Angela offered. 

“You do what’s right for you,” Nyla replied patting her friend on the back, “ You’re going to do great.”

Nolan went next. He was practically jumping out of the chair by the time it got to 6 and at 7 he was writhing around so much he actually managed to tip the chair over. The fact that he ended up in a tangled mess on the ground was probably the only reason he made it through 7 without ripping the electrodes off. He did his best on 8 but despite having everyone around him either holding his hand or holding him down he only made it five seconds.

“OK the guys got 7+8+9 that’s 24. We already have 19 so all you have to do is get through 6 babe,” Angela said to Wesley.

It should have been easy. The pain wasn’t that bad, but it was in his abdomen and it was just a little too similar to the pain he experienced when he was stabbed. He was starting to get flashbacks but he wanted to do this for his fiancé, the love of his life and mother to his unborn child. He was going to do this for Angela even when she told him it was OK, that she understood, that he didn’t need to push through this trauma for her but he wanted to. So despite the fact that his whole body was pale, we was dripping with sweat, dizzy and short of breath with tears streaming down his face he pushed through his ten seconds at 6 with steely determination. At this point Angela pulled off the electrodes for him then pulled him into a hug. All her friends wrapped themselves around the couple and they stayed like that until Wesley was feeling better. 

“I didn’t get any prizes so bragging rights will have to be enough,” Wesley admitted.

“The day was prize enough,” Lucy offered, “I had a blast, we should do stuff like this more often.”

“Does that mean you’re not going to rub it in?” Jackson asked.

“Not a chance,” she replied.

“How about because we won we get to meet the baby first?” Nyla suggested.

“That’s fair,” Angela agreed, “but what do I get?”

“Presents,” Nyla said handing Angela her baby shower present. 

After Angela opened her presents which mostly consisted of clothes and books and toys for the new baby everybody headed home to get some rest.

“Thank-you,” Angela said giving Wes a quick kiss, “For today. I really needed it.”

And she meant it. She had been feeling alone, helpless, and inadequate. But today reminded her about all the people who love her, about the strength that comes with working together. It reminded her that it’s ok to be imperfect, stressed, struggling but also to be goofy, to let loose and have fun. After today she finally felt like her self again and that woman was going to be a great mother.  

[hey-hamlet]

BNHA AU Ideas : The Original Sin

Also on AO3! 

TL;DR: 

Midoriya Izuku is born incomplete, part of him lacking in a way that makes him abnormal - inhuman. When he turns nine, this changes.

( shamelessly based of the young loki storyline in marvel comics a while ago with the title stolen from there as well. Look - "I am the crime that can not be forgiven." is a baller line ok.)

Midoriya Izuku is born blue and silent. There is no gentle rise and fall of his chest, no pulse, no movement. The Doctors whisk him away in a blur of activity – they tell Inko they will do everything they can. They do not expect a happy ending.

20 Minutes later, Izuku begins to breath on his own. With no previous reaction to treatment this spontaneous respiration is shocking. They expect major brain damage, only to see the infant open his eyes and squint in the bright light of the room. He yawns. They cheer.

They return him to his near hysterical mother’s room. He’s hooked up to countless monitors, but they assure her its just a precaution. She is warned he may have some form of brain damage that will become apparent as he grows, but he is alive and healthy and that in itself they can promise.

Inko cries – her son is alive and he is smiling and that’s all she could ever ask for.

Izuku grows up strange. As a baby he rarely cries – so rarely in fact that Inko can’t stand to have him sleep in a different room, so scared her near silent son will drift away without her knowing. He never does. He seems to understand her from day one as she tells him stories about heroes and dragons. His little hands wipe her tears as she cries. She doesn’t know how, but her son is special.

He doesn’t speak a word until he goes to daycare and meets a firecracker blonde, upon which he shows he can speak far better than most of his peers.

Despite this he seems somehow – lacking – to the other children. Like he’s missing something he needs to be one of them, to be human. They hurt him and push him and take his things. He does not cry.

The only child mostly unaffected by this is Katsuki. He still admits Izuku is a “weirdo”, but he’s smart and fast, sure on his feet with dexterous hands. He seems somehow older and younger than all of the other children in a way that makes adults baby him, but children fear him. Katsuki will not be scared.

Katsuki gets his quirk first. It’s bright and colourful and everything they expected from him.

He asks Izuku about his quirk. His looks into the middle distance for a moment before smiling. It’s small but bright as ever. “Mine will be late.” He then frowns, looking down at his own two hands. They seem ever so small at the moment. “Not sure why.”

Inko asks if he wants to go to the doctor, to see if he has a quirk. Izuku shakes his head gently. “I have one – I know I do. It’ll be late though.” Inko asks him if hes sure, but she trusts her son. He’s much smarter than they remember to give him credit for.

Still, the others don’t believe him. He grows up labelled quirkless with all it brings. Katsuki stays by his side, the quiet and kind boy is something different from the extras - he knows this as well as he knows the sun will rise. They make an interesting pair. One quiet, calm, too knowing, the other brash and loud. They are both whip smart.

Izuku has an eye for quirks better than anyone, always teasing out their mechanisms and probably limitations faster than someone with decades of experience. Katsuki is convinced this will prove to be an aspect of the elusive quirk that refuses to show itself.

Izuku dreams of horrors he has never seen – blood on his hands and quirks at his fingertips. He feels powerful but oh so alone. In the dark on night when he retches silently into his bin, the feeling of hot blood still so real under his shaking hands, he vows to be nothing like the man in this dreams.

Never again.

Izuku is nine when it happens. Katsuki is dragging him through the forest excitedly, hands warm and gently crackling in his own. His head begins to ache.

What started as a nagging irritation quickly shifts into a blinding pain worse than anything Izuku has ever felt in his life. He stumbles to the ground, clutching as his head and he screams and sobs, tears hot down his face.

Katsuki has seen Izuku cry plenty – but never from pain. Not when they got their shots, not when the bully from two grades about them slammed his fingers in the heavy oak door, not when he felt from the tree Katsuki had begged him to climb; bone sharp and pink through his skin. Katsuki wraps his arms around his friend and screams for help.

The screaming stops. Izuku slumps. Katsuki panics. He can feel his friend’s breath on his shoulder but he will not wake. Katsuki can only hold his friend and hope.

All for One had known this day would come. He had known All Might would kill him – it was only a matter of time. That’s why he had a plan B.

A quirk he’d stolen nine odd years ago, creating a shell his mind and quirk would snap to upon his original body’s death. It would kill the original holder of the body, ideally leaving nothing more than an empty shell of a person he would become should he die. He felt some what bad knowing he had killed an infant before it got to draw it’s first breath, but the feeling was fleeting. He had work to do.

He watches Izuku grow. He always had a link to the boy – something about him being an extension of himself making it ever so easy to find him. The boy’s soul – because what else could it be – is stubborn. Parts of it linger in the body, only growing stronger as he ages. He can’t help be grow fond of him. The boy is almost like a son to him, in some strange and twisted way. A creature that should have died but refused to at every turn. All for One could empathise.

That’s why, them All Might’s final blow falls, he feels a flicker of sorrow. Izuku would be no more soon, simply a body he would wear as a puppet. There was no choice though. His work was not yet done.

All for One / Izuku finds themselves in a world of pain, two souls waring for life in a body that can only hold one. What astounds them the most is that Izuku is winning.

All for One plunges them into darkness – away from the pain, so they can talk. They have a time limit though, they are tearing the small body to pieces from the inside out.

Izuku doesn’t want to force All for One out – that will kill him. All for One doesn’t want him dead either. They strike a deal : Izuku will keep his own body until he dies, All for One’s quirk his to use (though the man will keep every quirk he’s personally acquired close to his chest). When Izuku dies – as he will, All for One insists, because the boy wants to be a hero – All for One will take control. They agree.

Izuku opens his eyes and smiles. What once was dull green is now bright and electric, flickers of crystalline white running through them. Izuku feels whole – normal. That makes Katsuki worried most of all.

He explains everything to his only friend – everything he knows. Its not a lot admittedly, only that there is someone else in his head now – their quirk his to use, and that when he dies he will no longer be himself. They do not tell Inko. They train – they will become heroes.

All Might meets Izuku under the bridge, a scraggly man trying to wring his neck as he screams incoherently. All Might knocks out the man before asking is Izuku has seen the villain he was looking for. Understanding blooms in the child’s eyes and suddenly the man on the floor is liquid once again. All Might feels deathly cold.

Izuku gets his autograph, the strange man sharing his mind griping idly about the “blond buffoon” as he insits on calling All Might. Izuku doesn’t mind, ecstatic to meet his hero. He doesn’t miss the flinch on All Might’s face when he lets the man’s quirk flow back into him, but he brushes it away. Everyone is scared of his quirk, its nothing new.

As All Might is distracted by memories long after the boy leaves, the slime villain slinks away

Izuku saves Katsuki, clutching the boy’s own quirk in his gentle grasp, pulling it into his own fold ever so gently, never truly severing it from the blonde. The villain recoils from the blasts as Izuku pulls his friend. All Might swoops in.

Later he asks to train the boy – revealing his smaller side. He says nothing of One for All. He is considering it but he is so scared of any possible connections to All for One he dares not mention it. Izuku takes this with a smile and open arms.

Other stuff:

Izuku is told about One for All a few months in to training because All Might sees his boy is good and kind and nothing like the monster the thought he could be. Izuku immediately goes on about all of the good someone with All Might’s quirk could do, never once assuming it would be his to use. That makes up All Might’s mind – he will pass it to him.

Izuku calls All for One Zero. For All for One it’s kind of a pun about he is One for All wielder number 0. He starts calling Izuku Ninth, or Niner just before he get’s One for All – Izuku thinks it’s a pun on his name.

Izuku can both take quirks and borrow them. Taking them severs their connection from the wielder, borrowing them is just like holding them for a second – they snap back when he stops paying attention. Borrowing is faster and easier and can be reversed without contact. Taking means he will keep the quirk even if he is knocked out or stops concentrating – he tries to avoid doing that because it hurts to give them back and he doesn’t trust himself to do it no matter how guilty stealing something would make him feel.

All for One is actually big soft on Izuku and really doesn’t want the boy dead. He chats to him a lot, offers to help him cheat on tests – which Izuku never takes – and subtly heals their shared body while Izuku sleeps. He wants to kill the children who hurt him. Izuku can’t bare the thought.

All for One and Katsuki get along like a house on fire, even if their interactions are all mediated through Izuku serving as a mouth piece, and its scary. Katsuki and Inko were the only people he told about Zero until All Might. Others in 1A find out at various points in time.

Izuku eventually finds out about the weird quirk hes a part of and has a crisis knowing he is not the Izuku that should have been born into the world. He tells his mother, expecting her to hate him, but she only smiles. "You're still my son - I couldn't ask for anyone better."

[alleycatmimi]

✿ℂ𝕠𝕝𝕝𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕣𝕒𝕥𝕚𝕠𝕟 (Teaser)

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Full fanfiction.

Min Yoongi × reader;

idol!au;

↬ ⓌⒶⓇⓃⒾⓃⒼⓈ: swearing, smut, fingering(f), blowjob, dirty talk, choking, spanking, fingers sucking, pet play, bdsm themes, AGUST D (I'VE WARNED YOU), MINT HAIR YOONGI, some violence(not much tho, he throws some fists), daddy kink, overstimulation, some praising kink, nipple play, protected sex;

↬ Genre: idol!au, fluff, smut, lil angst(not.much.of.it), humour, NSFW, dom!yoongi, sub!reader, idol!yoongi, idol!reader, model/actor! seokjin, manager!namjoon, dance teacher!hoseok, fanboy!jungkook, makeup artist!taehyung, kendo trainer!jimin;

↬ Words count: 4k+ (still adding.)

↬ Description: One party. One glare. One song. Two hearts. Two idols. A collaboration who will change the lifes of both of you, but not only professional.

Banner made by: @picstaegi (instagram);

•───────────────────•

Y/F/N. She was sitting in front of Min Yoongi's door. And he was wearing nothing less but his towel around his sinful hips and his wet hair falling into his eyes. Y/N gulped down the node in her throat, allowing her gaze to travel down his half naked body. Licking her lips, she watched a water drop slowly making its way down the man's abdominal muscles, leaving a wet path on his abs.

Her gaze trailed up to his chest, notincing the colour of his nipples. Pink. Cute. Her eyes scanned his thick neck, up to his jaw and his pink, parted lips and finally meeting his own gaze. If the man in front of her was bothered by her staring at him like this, he said nothing, nor teased her about it. She thought he is probably used with girls staring at him like a whole snack, anyway. She frowned at this thought, prefering to shake her head, trying to not visualise an imagine of on of her favourite idols with someone else. He looked shooked actually.

His lips were parted, his eyes wide opened, his veiny hand holding on the door way, making her lick her lips once more, having to reprime a silent whimper. Damn it, why nobody told her this apartment was Agust D's apartment?!

They stared at each other for a while, not knowing what to say or do, a blush creeping on her face. As they thought like one mind, they both started to bow and greet each other, causing they heads to bang together.

"Ow!" She mumbled, holding her head, losing her balance, ready to fall on her back, right on the stairs. Yoongi's heart started to beat faster, at the thought something might happen to her. He reached for her, catching her right wrist and pulling her to him, pressing her body against his, the other hand holding into his towel like his life depended on it.

Y/N face was as red as the carpet in his living room. She ended up with both of her hands on his bare chest, their bodies pressed against each other, her legs between Yoongi's spreaded one. She looked up at him, bitting her bottom lip, unsure of what she should say or do, ignoring the fast rithm of her heart which was hitting her ribs cage chaotic.

But Yoongi's cheeks were flushed as well as hers and it made her feel better. But that's when she tried to look away, but his pink nipples were exactly under her stare. She didn't mean to stare, but they were just so cute. Getting out of his transa, Yoongi blushed more and frowned, finally finding his voice.

"Yah!" He said, moving her hands to cover his nipples with, making her look up at him in shock. "Don't stare at my nipples, Y/N-ssi, I get shy!" He breathed, making her chuckle when she realised what he just said. He mentally thanked God his voice wasn't shaky at all.

"Alright, alright! Sorry!!!" She said, blushing more. She thought about getting away, but Yoongi's huge hands were holding her wrists softly, his big thumbs gently stroking the side of her own hands, sending a shiver down her spine, melting her heart.

Yoongi was staring down at her, a smile playing on his lips. "When are you going to stop staring, babygirl? Like the view?" He smirked slightly, titling his neck to the side, piercing her with his gaze. How was that possible?! This man changed from a shy lil meow meow to a predathor in no seconds.

She pulled away of him, gasping, making him chuckle lowly. Y/N mentally slapped herself for daring to come here in the first place. She even forgot why she was there, anyway. She stared at Yoongi again. He was now leaning on the door way, waiting for her answer. Y/N cleared her throat.

"I-I came here for meeting my new neighbors. I am the new owner of the apartment next door." She extended her trembling hand to him. "I am Y/F/N, but I guess you already know who I am." She said, smiling shyly and putting a strand of her hair behind her left ear.

Yoongi's stomach got filled up with some annoying butterflies, hearing what she just said. Y/F/N, the misterious girl from Seokjin's party, the one who has the voice of an angel, the one who made him not sleep the whole night thinking of how innocent she looked like, ok, it's not like earlier she was innocent, but that's another story, she was here, in front of him, telling him she was his new neighbor.

•───────────────────•

Date of teaser: 15.09.2020.

Don't copy, repost or translate my work in here or any other platforms, even if you give me credits.

© All rights reserved.

[branwellburrito]

untitled thomastair one shot

ok i was supposed to study and instead i wrote this. that’s fine.

also, english isn’t my first language so please please!! let me know if i made mistakes

word count: 2258

“Lightwood!” shouted Alastair. “Behind you!”

Thomas quickly turned around, killing the demon behind him with the broadsword, drenched in ichore, between his hands. Without a word he turned again to face the other monster.

Alastair often forgot how fast Lightwood could be. “By the Angel…” muttered under his breath, while, without looking away from Thomas’ broad shoulders, he killed another demon with his spear. I get distracted too easily, he thought. These patrols with Lightwood will get me killed one day. 

He turned his back to the other boy, walking slightly toward him. He hit a demon close to him, failing to kill it when, once again, he saw a shadow moving quickly, too quickly, from the corner of the alley toward Thomas. 

Without thinking Alastair turned his back to the wounded demon. His spear left swiftly his fingers and hit the head of the new creature, not before he felt a piercing pain in his right leg and collapsed to the ground screaming.

Thomas killed the demon he was fighting with, turned around and threw his bolas around the wounded monster’s talons, pulling it away from Alastair. He killed it with a single blow of his sword.

“Alastair! Why did you give your back to that thing?” shouted Thomas, hurrying toward the other Shadowhunter. “By the Angel…” said, looking at the bleeding wound. 

“There was… a… demon…” tried to say Alastair.

Thomas took his stele and quickly traced many iratze on the leg. “This isn’t working. We have to go to the Institute. Can you get up?”

Alastair grasped Thomas’ hand and tried to raise on his healthy leg. The moment he tried to use the other leg he had to stifle another scream. The pain was spreading quickly on the whole leg and it made his head spin. “I can’t… put my… weight… on it…”

“I’ll help you” said Thomas, holding him on the shoulders.

Alastair moaned and held with all his strength on Thomas who tried to lift him by putting a hand on his waist. Alastair managed to limp a few steps but they were moving too slowly.

“This isn’t working” said Thomas, suddenly sliding a hand under Alastair’s legs and holding him close to his chest. Alastair held on to his shoulder, surprised, while Thomas ran toward their carriage. 

He closed his eyes and put his forehead on the hollow between Thomas’ neck and chest. He thought that he had never been that close to him and that he wanted to get even closer, but that was probably the venom and the pain talking. It had become hard to focus and he let his thoughts wander. 

Between a difficult breath and the other he remembered himself saying to someone I’ve loved you since Paris. He couldn’t remember who… Who was the person he had said that to? Suddenly his mind filled with the Louvre’s colours, the theaters, the streets of Paris and the Eiffel Tower gleaming in the night.

“We’re almost there” murmured Thomas, close to Alastair’s ear. The sound of his voice brought back visions of Paris and all of them were full of Thomas. Thomas in the Louvre, talking about arts. Thomas telling him about his tattoo. Thomas telling him about his year in Spain. Thomas that had been so far from him and was now so close, all muscles, breaths and heartbeat under his arms. 

He now remembered the look he gave him at Cordelia and James’ engagement party. Alastair felt his heart sink, heaved by panic and sense of guilt and focused so hard on trying not to cry.

That was the last thing he could remember.

—

Alastair woke up in one of the beds in the Institute infirmary. The light coming from the windows told him it must have been morning. He rubbed his eyes, trying to drive away the drowsiness, and saw a spot of red hair close to him.

“Layla,” tried to say, his mouth dry.

Alastair heard a sudden sound coming from the other side of the room and saw Thomas getting up from the edge of another bed. Without uttering a word he walked toward Cordelia and delicately shook her shoulder, waking her up. Then he left the room.

“Alastair,” said Cordelia, noticing his brother finally awake, who was trying to sit. She left him no time to ask himself if he had just imagined Thomas. “You’re awake!” I was worried about you.”

“I’m fine, I’m fine now” replied Alastair, trying to reach a glass of water on the nightstand. “What happened? After I got here.”

“Thomas came here, screaming. He was asking for the Silent Brothers. Your wound wasn’t deep but the demon’s venom was making it much worse. The Silent Brothers came here very quickly, removed the venom and healed the wound. They gave you some herbs to sleep and they said you should be able to walk by this evening.” She paused. “You’ve been lucky. Thomas brought you here incredibly fast.” She gave him a kiss on his forehead. “You should rest now.”

When his sister was almost on the door he called her again. “Thomas… did he…? Did he stay here all night?”

“Of course. Sleep, Alastair.”

—

That very evening Alastair could walk easily and Cordelia brought him home. The Institute felt empty, except for Mr. Herondale and Mrs. Gray, who had wanted to make sure he was really healing, before letting him go. 

Alastair couldn’t stop thinking that he didn’t meet anyone because everybody hated him. He felt his own chest choke under the familiar weight of his guilt. But if that was true and everybody hated him, how come Thomas had stayed with him the whole night?

The road home was very quiet. Alastair only hoped to have the chance to go to bed and read something to distract himself. 

When they got home he and Cordelia parted on the front door and Alastair moved toward the stairs that led to his bedroom. 

He suddenly stopped when he saw a person sitting on the first steps, his head in his hands. Thomas.

Thomas had heard him come. He had dark circles under the eyes that Alastair had never seen on his face. “Alastair,” he said. “Your… your mother let me in. I was waiting for you.”

Alastair didn’t say anything. He was too tired to try guessing what Thomas was doing on his stairs.

“I wanted to thank you, for last evening…”

“I should be the thankful one” Alastair interrupted him.

“I was talking about that demon behind my back.”

“It seems the bare minimum.”

“You got hurt trying to help me,” replied Thomas. “I understood later how you got that wound. You saved my life twice in less than two minutes. I owe you.”

“I’d say we’re even, now.”

There was a moment of silence. Alastair took some time to observe Thomas’ eyes moving around the room. 

“Is there anything else?”

Why do I always seem so rude? I didn’t want to sound rude.

“Actually there is. When… when I brought you to the carriage you were muttering stuff. I thought it was the venom or the pain…”

Alastair felt himself go pale, remembering his own thoughts when he was so close to Thomas. Did he really speak out loud? “What did I say?”

“I’ve loved you since Paris.”

Those words coming out of Thomas' mouth made his heart beat faster but Alastair could remembered himself thinking it the night before. He remembered asking himself who that phrase was meant for, who was the one he told it to. He knew now it had been Charles. He bit his lip and looked away. He didn’t really want to have that conversation. 

He tried to get over Thomas on the steps but Thomas got up and held his hand. Alastair froze, feeling his soft fingertip on the inside of his wrist. He knew he could feel his furious heartbeat. 

“I’m not forcing you to answer that… I just want to make sure you’re fine.”

Why do you care? 

Alastair got rid of Thomas’ hand. Now, standing on the first steps of the stair he could look him straight into his eyes. When was the last time I could look at him in the eyes?

“Thomas…” he tried to say. But how was he going to explain what Paris meant to him? When he had said to Charles I’ve loved you since Paris he had thought it was true. He had thought he was sure of his own feelings. It had taken him some time to understand that it wasn’t Charles he was in love with, but Paris. Paris because it was the city where he actually got to see Thomas for the first time. He had heard him talk about arts, he had heard him talk about himself and his hopes, while he fell in love with the city of lights and its possibilities. 

“Alastair,” Thomas stopped him, holding his face between his hands. Alastair felt so tiny in front of his gaze and under his touch.

“In some way I was talking about you. About Paris.” said suddenly. “Not that it matters. You hate me. You’re right.”

Thomas sighed, letting his hands fall on the other’s neck. Alastair’s skin was burning, didn’t he notice? “I… I don’t hate you. I can’t bring myself to hate you. I was mad at you, I thought that… I thought you were a different kind of person. I was disappointed, I think. I had thought to see good in you and I feared I had been wrong. Now I know you’re much more.”

Thomas got on the first step, getting closer to Alastair who stepped higher. 

“I was a horrible person. And there isn’t a day I don’t think about it and there isnt’ a day I don’t regret everything I’ve done. I don’t deserve your forgiveness because I helped you in a battle. It doesn’t change what I’ve done.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Thomas’ hands climbed back on his face and his fingers were close to his hair, stroking them. Every nerve in Alastair’s body shouted at him to forget everything and let Thomas touch him. 

His eyes slid on Thomas’ face. He remembered what he had thought in his pain the evening before. He had thought Thomas was all muscles, breath and heartbeat because pain had made him close his eyes and that was all that he had seen.

But now he had his eyes wide open and he was seeing him like it was the first time, like it was Paris all over again. He let his eyes follow the shape of his jaw, the color of his eyes, the shape of his lips, the muscles hiding below his shirt, the shape of his lips. 

Thomas got another step higher but now Alastair didn’t move away. He threw his head back, because now Thomas was taller than him, even if he was a step lower. He threw his head back to meet Thomas’ face looking down at him. The shape of his lips.

Without really knowing what was happening they got closer and closer and now they were kissing, gently and slowly. 

Alastair lifted his hands on Thomas’ face while Thomas held him on his waist.

Suddenly Thomas turned him around, pushing his back against the wall while the kisses got less and less delicate and Alastair could hear him moaning against his lips and neck.

They kissed for a long time while Alastair kept thinking that it wasn’t enough. At the same time he knew his heart was close to bursting out of his chest and still it wasn’t enough. 

Thomas started to stroke Alastair’s cheekbones while they slowly got away from each other. His fingers are better than kisses, thought Alastair.

They looked at each other for a moment before Alastair suddenly asked: “Why did you stay in the infirmary the whole night?”

“I didn’t want you to wake up alone.”

“Cordelia was there.”

Thomas hesitated. “I know. But after she got there I couldn’t find the strength to leave. I kept thinking you were in that bed because of me…”

“I was in that bed thanks to you. There’s a difference.”

“I knew I wasn’t going to sleep and I really didn’t want you to wake up when Cordelia was sleeping...” he kept going, moving his fingers.

“You didn’t have to worry that much,” said Alastair softly, thinking of him, beside him the whole night.

“I think I should probably go, you have to rest” said Thomas, suddenly embarrassed, moving away from him.

Alastair lost his balance and hit his wounded leg on the steps. He cursed under his breath.

“By the Angel, I’m such an idiot.” Once again he lifted Alastair very quickly and held him close. “Your room is upstairs?”

Alastair didn’t trust himself to speak and simply nodded while the other brought him like the night before and his heartbeat was pounding in his ears. When they got to his bedroom Thomas left him on his bed and walked toward the door.

“Wait” said Alastair softly. “Stay here.”

“I thought we agreed you needed rest.”

“I thought we agreed I can rest even if you’re here.”

Thomas turned and Alastair could see a tiny smile on his lips.

“I guess you’re right” said, sitting on the bed and holding tightly his hand.

That night they slept in a hug after they had kissed again and again.

The kisses weren’t enough to lighten the weight of guilt on Alastair’s chest, but they were enough to make him sleep peacefully. He knew he was far from forgiveness but he felt, between Thomas’ arms, that he was getting closer.

[a-forgotten-spirit]

Dabi x Hero Reader (7)

Pairing: Dabi x Fem Hero in training, Shinso x Reader (Platonic), Bakugou x Reader (Platonic)

Summary: Who wants to be a hero. 

Words: +-3700

Warnings: Dating Dabi, time skip, reporters, hate, anxiety, Dabi on top of you, soft Dabi, neck kissing, mentions of smut, being called “Little one”, on the pill, tongue kissing, groping, interrupted pre-smut, if you squint there is Shinkami and TodoBaku, bad parents, depression, being called Dabi’s pet, being called princess by a villain, being called a disgrace, nothing, being told to become silent, swearing, soft Bakugou, crying. ANGST

Tags: @wnygirl2012​ @chaotic-neutral-logic-sass​ @immortalwolf18 @shigadabi-for-the-win​ @x-a-delama-x​ @axerrri​

A/N: First off I’m sorry. 

Masterlist

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

________________________________________________________________

Chapter 7

It’s been months and Dabi and I are as happy as ever, his villain work is still active and I turned a blind eye to it even though I shouldn’t. Shinso has been helping to throw people off the trail and help me get out, he was my best friend. I didn’t tell Bakugou, I couldn’t, I had mentioned that he wasn’t a hero and Bakugou smiled and nodded. He was still my friend, which I thanked whoever was listening. I had been sneaking out of a night twice a week and staying over after the first five months on a Friday and Saturday night saying I go and see old friends and family “It’s a tradition I didn’t take place in for a while but I'm ok now” I would say. They believed me. The abuse from social media got worse as a video was posted of me training my quirk and I sent someone across the field and then laughed. It was Shinso, Shinso was my training partner and I got a tremendous amount of backlash from it.

Sitting on the balcony of Dabi’s apartment I hugged his jumper closer to my form as I stared at the new influx of messages, each seeming to get worse than the other. A sigh left my lips, as new videos and older videos rearose, song choices and theories began appearing. I moved to hug my legs close to my chest and just refresh the page over and over. People from all over the world were calling me out, begging me to respond but I never did. I tried, I wanted too, I had clicked the tweet button, written paragraphs and then clicked back with a wavering breath.

For every hundred negatives there was the one positive that made my lip quirk up slightly. “She’s doing her best, there is no such thing as a villainous quirk, looks at endeavour his quirk is fire, that’s dangerous and everyone praises him” I liked that one, I couldn’t not and within a few minutes those tweets began to appear as well that I was reading them, that I was able to respond and chose not too. People had my notifications on, I should have thought of that.

A groan left my lips slowly and I dropped my phone onto the chair I was sitting on as my hands came to grip my legs and my head rested on my knees. I couldn’t do this, every single time it was a new thing. I had a patrol planned with Aizawa on Monday and my nerves were already through the roof.

Hands moved around my body and I smiled lifting my head as I saw Dabi looking at my phone, his eyebrows fell as I saw his eyes guide along the lines “Idiots” his deep voice spoke out. I shrugged and his glowing eyes turned to mine, I loved his eyes “Do not shrug, you are doing amazing” a light kiss to my forehead and I smiled. His hand moved down and turned off the device before picking me up from the chair and picking up the phone. We walked inside my legs wrapping around his waist as he threw my phone over to the couch only to then walk back into the bedroom and throw me on the bed crawling over my body “No more phone” I smiled.

“No more phone” I whispered, I guarded that phone with my life, I never let it leave my sight, but when I was with him it was like it meant nothing. It was nothing, I didn’t want it when he was with me.

“Did you sleep?” he asked slowly, lowered himself slowly to then kiss along my neck and pleasing sigh leaving my lips. A hand moving to wrap around the small of my back bringing his body closer. He never slept with a shirt on, always complaining about the heat.

“No” I whispered breathly as his lips trailed all over the skin of my neck, leaving feather-like kisses. I could live off of this, I could easily get addicted to the way his lips felt on my skin. His arm was hot and I could feel it through the jumper.

“Do you want to sleep” the question that made me pause for a second and think, we hadn’t had sex in the almost ten months I had been with him, I wanted too by the lord above I wanted too. Every time we were about to, I got a call as I was wanted on patrol with whoever was calling, a certain ring tone being sounded for the school.

“No” I whispered and his eyes moved back to view at me, breath faster, eyes glowing more. His hands heating, I shook my head “I don’t want to sleep” I whispered and he smirked slowly.

“Then we don’t sleep little one” our lips met quickly passion and love flying around, it was quick and his hands left my back to trail up my stomach and to my chest with a groan. We had done things sure but never the full way. I had been on birth control for a few years now and I wanted this, needed this. I was ready, I didn’t feel guilty.

My hands combed through his hair in a rush of lust and need, always so soft. Lips clashing and tongues exploring, I couldn’t get enough. Lust was the best emotion, it was so full and filling. Dabi’s love felt the same, I had never met someone such as him. I got drunk off of him, lived off of him. I couldn’t get enough. I needed more.

His hand grabbed my breasts and I tilted my head back in lust, the air leaving my throat with a moan. It felt amazing, he felt amazing. Hands so hot, almost feverous, burning. “How are your moans even in tune” lips attacking my neck once more made more fall from my lips. “Fuck” his whispered.

Just as his hands were gliding back down my torso a knock came to the door, we ignored it and continued to kiss and touch each other, they would go away. They would get the message if no one came to the door. The knocking got louder but we stayed as the jumper was pushed up. I didn’t care, I wanted him. Louder knocking. A growl and fire lighting his hand for a moment as he threw himself from the bed and stormed from the room.

“What?” I heard the angered, deep voice grunt loudly. I smiled and laughed lightly, most likely getting another mission of some description. Getting thrown into villain activity that I would sweep under the rug. Within a few more minutes I sat up at the sound of the door slamming shut. He walked in eyes a flurry as he walked over and kneeled in front of the bed “This time it’s me getting pulled away” I smiled softly, I couldn’t be mad, I had done the same. “Will you be gone by noon?” he asked, my eyes fell and I nodded. I was pushed back in a flurry of kisses again. Quick and full of need and lust. I never wanted him to leave, his lips left mine and I was breathless and dazed.

He was up and getting dressed quickly. “That’s a nice goodbye” I smiled crossing my legs and he laughed and tilted his head. Pulling on his signature coat, I smiled. “One more,” I asked as he slipped on his shoes walking over and kissing me once more. “Don’t get caught” I whispered looking straight at him.

“I won’t” his hand burst into flames and I smiled as he was then gone. The apartment immediately got cold and I hugged my legs tighter, I wanted him back. I didn’t like leaving. His smell still lingered in the air and I threw myself back onto the ruffled sheets.

Shinso had moved on with Denki and Bakugou was dancing around his sexuality, trying to figure himself and a certain bi-colour haired boy out. They suit each other. They had been dancing for a while, since their license exam. I didn’t see them often but when I did, it was like we hadn't drifted. They helped with the abuse, my parents said I needed to do better. I ignored the message.

I moved from the bed to the lounge room and picked up the device I treasured when he wasn’t here. I looked over the comments still coming to light. I wondered if these people slept, videos being uploaded of reactions and theories.

“She does look really happy” “Acting as though it was a joke” “She could have hurt him and all she’s doing is laughing” “That poor boy being thrown across the field” “Is she even a hero”

The list went on and on and on. Did they have nothing better to do than try and ruin my life? The teachers told me to ignore them, told me that it happens. They pick a strong student and roll with it, they did it to Midnight. They didn’t bring me relief, it made me angry, why was this ok. I was helping people, I helped people. I was at the beginning of my third year I thought they would grow up but not. I had my license and I was allowed to help people.

Turning off my phone I clicked on the tv, I needed to distract myself, to do something. All that lead me too is watching the reactions of my new video, comparing songs attacks to the other videos and such. Before I knew it my alarm was going off to get ready and head back to the school.

~ Monday came quickly and without much fuss, I got the usual pitiful glances from classmates and teachers alike. I had messaged Dabi and he was ok from whatever he was doing, I didn’t ask. I got dressed in my hero uniform and then I was walking out and down the stairs of the dorm.

“Have fun Y/N” Kirishima met my half-lidded eyes and smiled through his smile fell as I walked past, Bakugou turned to look at me and raised an eyebrow in question, there was a decent amount of my class sitting in the common area.

“It’s not fun being harassed every second I leave the school” I watched as their gazes dropped and I left the dorms, I walked out to meet Aizawa and we were off. We didn’t talk only walking down the street and then came to the whispers and photos being taken.

I sighed, I was glad I turned my notifications off. I couldn’t do this, we turned down a street, fewer people. Aizawa didn’t say anything but I did see his head turn every time a camera went off.  With the rising villain activity, Aizawa was forced to leave the shadows and become a patrol hero, Pro’s were too busy. It just happens to be my day. Three to four students went out a day to learn the way of being a hero on patrol. I could hear the whispers, a simple sigh I pulled my headphones over my ears and let light music drift them. Villains were becoming more daring, brave. So when the ground shook we were off running down the street, I pull my headphones down to my neck to hear.

“What was that” I heard Aizawa whisper as we ran, it was a group. A large group, Aizawa could only take one down at a time. Did they have to have a fit today, of all days, when I was on? “Y/N” I was looking down when he looked at me “I don’t care what they say, you are a hero and right now you need to be one” I nodded and walked forward pulling my headphones on pulling the Mic down.

I walked out and saw the group turn to me, they had people behind them “I’m going to ask you to stop please” I asked, I didn’t want to fight. I didn’t want to use my quirk, it was annoying and with people already having their phones out I wasn’t interested in the outcome of whatever I do. “Please, I’m not in the mood” I spoke out.

“I know you” I nodded, everyone does, it was common knowledge. “You’re Dabi’s little pet” I paused and slowly raised my head to look at him, he was grinning. Wide and proud. Dabi had stopped talking to people about me so this was from before. A long time ago, months and months prior.

“I do not belong to anyone, give in or we will have to take you by force” I spoke through gritted teeth and narrowed eyes. I was angry, I could feel my heart racing, blood pumping. There were maybe ten of them, all the different quirks and I was very unhappy. I was angry and anger didn’t do well in the hero world.

I couldn’t even defend myself “Look at that boys, is the princess getting cranky” my eyes twitched in anger as I let a breath from my lungs release. I didn’t doubt this was being broadcasted to the world, they already hated me. “Come on, come with me, I’ll make it worth your while” my hands gripped themselves.

I could feel so much anger well up inside me, I was just seen as some doll, some toy for people to play around with and manipulate. I was sick of it, sick of the news and people like this guy. I didn’t care. I was just something to use and get views, it didn’t matter what I did.

With each step I took a clicking noise started, the song coming to sing out “So, wrap me in plastic and make me shine” I felt like a caged doll, like some toy for them to play with “We can make a dollhouse, follow your design” I walked forward my face natural as I did so. All of them stopped in their tracks and had wide eyes “Let’s build a dog out of sticks and twine” this was my way of helping. I looked behind me and saw the trucks. “I can call you master, you call me mine” I felt like I was owned. I turned and they began to walk with me, I saw the cameras and phones. “Just give me some time, I’ll be ready” I didn’t think I was ever going to be ready for this, ever. “Quick shower, won’t take too long” it didn’t matter how much I scrubbed the hate would never wash away “Just give me some time, I’ll be ready” I sang out, easily. I walked over to the offices who began to cuff the villains and then open their vans. “Quick shower, won’t take too long” they were all boarding easily, heads lolled to the side and following my every command. “Just sing this song” as the door began to close I sang the last part I needed too “Wrap me in plastic and make me shine” the song fell into the air and I pulled the headphones off my head.

Police looked at me in thanks, some bowing and I bowed my head back. Aizawa was nodding approvingly, I didn’t feel accomplished. I wanted to go back to the dorms. Then the yells and reporters started, I’m sure they never stopped. I hadn’t spoken to them in months. I sighed out letting my head fall back then I walked over.

“Can you go away please” I spoke out in the most monotone voice I had ever heard come from my lips, they stopped for a moment though I knew their camera crew was still on the air. “You are getting in the way of rescues which is extremely inconvenient for heroes at work” I finished and let my eyes slowly blink in annoyance.

“I don’t see a hero here” one reporter smirked and I rolled my eyes, I didn’t care who saw. “I see a few heroes over there but no one here” everyone went silent and I nodded, licking my teeth and smiling wide.

I nodded and laughed lightly “You think you did something there didn’t you” I could see Aizawa making his way over. “Is that it, saying I'm not a hero. I have dealt with abuse since the second I stepped onto the field and that’s all you have” I asked with a raised eyebrow. “It’s pathetic” I finished.

“You can’t call a civilian pathetic, you’re meant to be a hero” he called out and walked forward, he was taller than I and looked down at me as I stayed in the same lazed leaning stature.

“But by your definition, I am not a hero” his eyes widened “So I am a civilian just like you” my hands moved to fix his tie and push him back lightly, just a few steps. “Personal space please” I spoke out and then smiled “Anything else to add”

“You are a disgrace to the hero name, no one in this city will like you. I will ruin your entire career. I am one of the most well-known reporters and by next week you will be nothing” his arm came out and he pushed me, harshly “You think just because you have a powerful quirk you are going to be something, you are nothing” I caught his hand this time.

“I’d advise you to rethink your words, you may not see me as a hero but I am still a minor in the eyes of the law and you are harassing me” the police walked over looking at him with a glare, I helped them. They liked me. “You should re-evaluate your values, Mr Reporter” eyes narrowed and voice dark I looked to him in anger.

“You are nothing, you will be nothing. You mean nothing, why don’t you just become silent” his smirk was wide, I knew what he was referring too and the police began to push them back as I turned around.

I was over this way of living. Aizawa went to speak but I held my hand up. I stormed my way to school, anger and hate spreading through me. I stormed into the dorms and my classmates were looking at me in worry. I was ripping my clothing from my body, I ripped the zip and pulled my legs from the fabric with a growl and I threw it across the room with a yell. I didn’t want it anywhere near me. I threw the headset down and crushed it.

When my head rose I could see the worry and utter shock of what I had done. “I had a great day Kirishima. I’m sure you saw just how much everyone fucking loves me” with that I was storming upstairs, I could hear Bakugou and Shinso talking as I did so. Once in my room, I grabbed my duffel bag and began to throw all my needed things inside.

“Y/N what are you doing” Bakugou spoke out as I stepped around him folding my clothes quickly in hate and then throwing them into my bag. “Y/N talk to us” I was moving to frantically, I didn’t have much but I had enough. I didn’t care for the school work or pillows, I got my things and I was gone.

“I’m leaving” I stated simply and then I felt hands on my shoulders. It was Shinso, eyes wide and head shaking. His eyes were beginning to water, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket, that was Dabi no doubt telling me to come over. “I’m not dealing with this anymore, if they don’t want me to be a hero so bad then I won’t. Simple as that” I shrugged and began to grab more things.

“No it’s not simple, this is your dream. Do not let them take that from you” Shinso knew his dream. Being a hero was no longer my dream, it hadn’t been for a while. With everything, I didn’t want to be a hero.

“It’s no longer my dream, take my spot in the class. You deserve it” I looked at him as I said those words. I was still in a singlet and short shorts. I walked overthrowing the singlet off and tossing it near the bag to pull on a jumper and then kept the shorts on, I didn’t care. I pushed my feet into flat shoes and put the others into the bag. I only had three pairs, the bag would be heavy but I didn’t care.

“Y/N” Bakugou started and I met his eyes, they shook just as his head did “No” it was said so softly I looked down and swallowed “We were going to become heroes, together” he whispered. I had never heard him like this.

I felt the tears well up and shook my head “Become the best hero Katsuki, for me” I turned to Shinso “You too, don’t let me down. I’ll be waiting” I was brought into a tight hug as I smiled and hugged them back. “Talk to Todoroki, he likes you” I smiled and Bakugou nodded. “Become No.1 and forget you ever met me” with that I walked out my bag in hand as I raced down the stairs. I had sung the last part, I didn’t want them to think about it.

Once at the bottom of the stairs I began to walk out “Y/N where are you going” Aizawa was shaking his head as I looked down as the class gathered around. “Why do you have a bag”

I walked past him “Take this as my official unenrollment from class 1-A. Shinso can take my place” Aizawa shook his head and the others began to move and I hummed as they stopped. “You’ll all be amazing heroes one day, I look forward to seeing you” and with that, I walked out. Making it to Dabi’s was easy, I just sang anytime someone so much as looked at me. Once I got into Dabis’ apartment I dropped my bags and closed the door. I shook and my tears began to fall.

He rushed over catching my falling form as I cried “It’s ok little one, I’ve got you” I just wanted to be a hero. ________________________________________________________________

Chapter 8

[mypassionfortrash]

KICKS (part three)

With Roger well shot of Betsy, he’s now free to explore the world of kink and all it has to offer him! But before he can start playing, he’s got to learn how to do it safely. You suggest that he meets two of your best friends to watch them play, and to get some advice and inspiration, to help him discover what he really wants.

Warnings: Strong D/s themes; mentions of medical fetishes and anal sex. STRICTLY 18+. Notes: Thank you so much for all of the amazing feedback I’ve been getting on the first two parts of this – I’m very proud of it and really appreciate every little reblog or comment! We’re gradually getting kinkier here but it’s still gonna be a slow burn! As always, if you like this, please reblog it so people can see it. If you’d like to be tagged, feel free to message me 💖

Catch up: Part one // Part two

Tags: @jennyggggrrr​ @sarahgurl09​ @scorpiogemini @johnricharddeacy​​ @brianssixpence​​ @hellohellothere12 @crazylittlethingcalledobsession @internationalkpoplova @thefairyfellersmasterstroke @six-bloodyminutes @hannafuckingsucks​ @dancingcoolcat​ @cherries-n-rocknroll​ @theedwardscollection​

You got your second wind when the clock was a few strokes shy of 5. A sudden burst of energy; an overwhelming urge to accomplish something. Today, you had a shipment of new butt plugs to put on display. 

They came in all shapes, colours, textures and sizes. Picking up one of the larger models, ‘Big Red,’ even you with your open mind and questionable taste in fetishes, wondered whose rectum could expand a whole five inches to accommodate it. You didn’t need to wonder much; they attracted a very specific type of customer, and you’d know them anywhere. You shook your head and loaded five of them on to one of the metal hangers with a smile.

Then, the bell above the door tinkled. 

You were so close to emptying the box at your feet and you had to bite back your annoyance when you turned to greet your customer.

All of those feelings subsided when you realised that it was Roger, standing in the doorway with a contented smile on his lips.

“People might talk if you keep showing up here,” you said, going back to your work. “Did you do it?”

Roger wandered up beside you and observed every move you made. “Hello to you too.” He looked down and reached into the box on the floor, plucking out a slim, blue plug. “And yes, I did do it.”

You took the plug – ‘Little Blue’ – from Roger’s grasp and arranged it on the display alongside others of its kind. “How did she take it?” You caught him scowling out of the corner of your eye. “That bad?”

“Weird.”

“You’re in a sex shop. What could be weirder?”

He slipped one of the large red plugs off of the hanger and read the packaging. Eyes narrowed, brow furrowed. He was unusually quiet.

“She didn’t take it well then?”

“She took it surprisingly well. But she told me why she did what she did.”

You turned to him and folded your arms, preparing to feel your rage towards Betsy Bright reach a simmer. “I’m listening.” 

“She said she was jealous.”

“Of?”

“She said that I have enough bother keeping it in my pants and I’m going on tour soon. Thought I was getting tips so I could go off and find someone ‘more like me’ while I was away, and the jealousy got the better of her. She wasn’t into it.”

A scowl smacked across your face like a slapped arse. “Well, it’s not your fault she’s bad at communicating before there’s a problem. And it doesn’t excuse what she did to you.”

“I know,” he sighed, closing his eyes with a smile. “I’m well shot of her now, thank god.”

“So, what now?”

Roger held up ‘Big Red’ with a grin.

“Roger, no.”

Roger laughed. “What’s a guy got to do to get someone to shove this up his bum?”

“Unspeakable things,” you whispered. “Terrible, awful, sordid things.”

“I’m assuming you start with ‘Little Blue’ and work up to ‘Big Red’ then?”

You tilted your head from left to right. “Yes and no.” Then you pondered. “There’s a couple of steps and a lot of lube in between.”

“And do you wear them when… I don’t know… you’re… doing it?” He stuttered, grinding his hips in a way that was equal parts comical and seductive.

But he was so coy, especially for someone so renowned for their ability to seduce and conquer; it made you giggle. His curiosity was refreshing. “You don’t have to have sex with them in, but they do feel amazing when you do – for men and women.” You searched the vast array of merchandise for something less lewd. “If you’re starting out with anal play, fingers and a lot of lube are fine.” Then your hand settled on a small glass plug. “And then if you want to transition to toys, I like these. They start off quite small. They’re easy to clean and have a really nice weight to them. And you can wear these during sex, or even out and about for small amounts of time. You can increase the size when you’re comfortable, and the duration that you wear them for.”

Roger’s eyes were like saucers when you finished your explanation.

“It makes fitting, you know, dicks and stuff in there a bit smoother,” you added nonchalantly, scratching the back of your head.

Roger elbowed your side and flounced into you. “Not that you’d know, hm?”

You felt a rush of blood go straight to your cheeks. Eager to dodge the question, you loaded the merchandise on to the display in double-time. 

“Well, one thing’s for certain,” Roger said, handing you various butt plugs to sort. “I don’t want anything in my arse. Ever.”

Grateful that Roger’s fleeting attention was off of your own posterior, you couldn’t help but make another remark. “You might like it. It’s even more fun for guys.”

“Right.”

“I can get a guy off without even touching his cock,” you boasted.

“Somehow, I don’t think a couple of fingers up my bum is going to do it.”

“No, but if you know which spots to prod, the results are… explosive.”

Like a naughty schoolboy, Roger shot you a bashful smirk while shaking his head. “No.”

“Please yourself.”

“I still want to start learning about all of this though,” he sighed. “And maybe find someone to do it with.”

“You need to learn how to play safely and have a think about what you’re ok with before you even think of playing with a partner.”

“How do I do that?”

“There are places you can go to speak to people who do this,” you hinted. It was a gamble, but you knew it would be an eye-opener for him. “Have you ever been to Doxy?”

“Doxy? What’s that?”

“It’s a dungeon on the other side of town.”

“Like a medieval dungeon?”

You reached out and stroked the side of Roger’s crimson-cheeked face. “You sweet summer child.”

Roger swatted your hand away. “What’s Doxy? Tell me!” he whined like a petulant child.

“Well, sometimes people go there to play. You can rent rooms, throw kinky parties there. Some people run entire businesses out of there.”

“Like kinky prozzies?” he grinned. “You’re telling me to go and see a kinky prozzie?”

“No, Roger,” you sighed, turning to him. “What I’m saying is, do you want to go there tonight with me? I know a couple of people who might be able to give you lots of helpful advice.”

Roger bounced on the balls of his feet like a badly trained, and very excited, puppy. “Ok.”

“And please, for the love of God, when you meet Andie, don’t call her a kinky prozzie.”

“What is she then?”

“She’s a dominatrix.”

“Nice.”

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“She wants me to go with her to a place called ‘Doxy.’ Have you heard of it?” Roger asked, twirling the phone cord around his slender fingertips.

“I’m afraid that’s a world away from what I’m into, my dear,” Freddie’s matter of fact tone crackled over the line. “The girl knows her stuff, though. You should trust her.”

Roger’s free hand lifted a cigarette to his lips and left it dangling. Then he wandered over to his wardrobe. “What the fuck do I wear to a bloody dungeon?”

“Teeny tiny leather shorts and one of those ghastly neckerchiefs you like.”

“Fucking hell, Fred,” Roger sighed.

“What? That’s what I would wear!”

“I don’t think we’re doing anything tonight, though, but yeah – I’ll keep that idea in the back pocket for later!” Roger rifled through his collection of clothing, cursing his decision to discard his many pairs of leather trousers at the turn of the decade.

“What did she say you were going to do?”

“Going to meet two of her friends.”

“That sounds like a bloody dream come true for you, dear. I don’t know why you’re getting your knickers in a twist.”

“I’m nervous.”

“Pour yourself a drink and don’t think too much on it. Enjoy yourself. She’s a lovely girl.”

Roger chuckled. “Don’t count on that. She was talking to me about butt plugs this afternoon.”

“Good luck with that, Rog,” Freddie laughed.

“Thanks, Fred.”

Roger hung up the phone and turned back to his wardrobe with a sigh. Freddie wasn’t much help and didn’t really put his mind at ease, but at least he was supportive. But he still had no idea what to wear to Doxy.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Roger tugged  the collar of his coat up against the bitter pitch-black wind. The quiet side street that Doxy was situated on was deserted and made him question whether he had the right place. Glancing up at the inconspicuous sign above the door, he knew he had at least got the name right. Maybe there were other places in London called Doxy. Maybe he had arrived at the wrong one. 

He set his sights on his watch, strapped around his trembling wrist. 

Two more minutes.

He knew how rich that was, coming from him. He was late for everything, and here he was, doubting your timekeeping.

So he lit another cigarette and pulled up his collar once more.

Right as the clock struck eight, you wandered down the cobbles towards the plume of pale smoke dancing in the air outside Doxy. Your fists were balled up inside the pockets of your jacket, trying to strangle the life out of the nerves you felt. You tried to make your legs move a bit faster, but the combination of sky-high heels and a freezing February night made even walking difficult.

Roger’s eyes zeroed in on the movement in their periphery; first, they were wary, and then realisation hit. He flicked his smoke to the ground and took a couple of small steps to close the gap between you and him. A coy, “Hi,” was all he could muster.

“Have you been waiting long?”

Roger swallowed hard and shook his head. “Only a couple of minutes.” Then his hand crept into the breast of his coat, slinking up to that familiar spot at the curve of his neck. A shy smile grew on his lips. “I’m so nervous.”

You brushed your fingertips over the outsides of Roger’s arms, not wanting to give away your own reservations. “It’s going to be ok,” you reassured, focusing on the way the light caught his eyes. “We’re not going to do anything. We’re only going to meet Andie and her sub, Holly, and watch how they do things. To help you stop overthinking things.”

The muscles in Roger’s arms relaxed under your touch as he took a sharp, but measured, breath. “Ok,” he nodded. “Ok. I think I’ll be fine.”

“Good,” you smiled, linking his arm in yours. “We better get a move on.”

The descent into Doxy took forever. Step by step. Steep scarlet step by steep scarlet step. The staircase stretched on for what felt like miles below street level. The only illumination on offer came from sporadic lamps fixed to the brickwork. “You weren’t lying when you called this a dungeon,” Roger said.

You giggled when you reached the bottom of the stairs. “That’s the tip of the iceberg. Here,” you said, holding out your hand, “let me take your coat.”

Roger slipped it off and handed it to you with a smile. Then he watched you disappear towards the cloakroom, fixating on the way your hips swung like a pendulum from left to right in your skintight leather trousers. Instinctively, his fingers laced together in front of his abdomen. Without you to admire, Roger glanced around, taking in snapshots of the people around him. Latex, leather, lace. Everywhere. Suddenly, he felt underdressed for the occasion in his stonewash jeans and a cosy jumper. But one thing struck him. For all the clubs that Roger had visited, he had never been inside a place like Doxy; there were no bars or disco balls, no dance floor and no gaggles of drunken hens. Instead, everything moved slowly in a sultry haze. People dripped into the corridor to Roger’s right; it was lined with rooms. Roger’s mind wandered, imagining what the people did behind those doors. He truly was a fish out of water.

You sauntered back to Roger now without your jacket, allowing him an unrestricted view of your outfit. He focused a bit too intently on the sliver of cleavage your black bralette put on display. So much so that he missed what you were saying to him. Not once, but twice.

He snapped back to reality with a stern click of your fingers in front of his eyes. He recoiled at the sound. “Sorry,” he said, casting his gaze towards his shoes.

“Do you want to go through? They’re going to start at half-past,” you said, looking at your watch.

Roger’s eyes lit up as he stood up straight. “Yeah.”

“Good,” you said, turning on your heel. It took him a moment to catch up, and when he did, you leaned in close to him so he could hear you. “Now, remember – don’t call them kinky prozzies.”

Roger’s face bunched into a tickled grin. His body nudged against your own, reinforcing his amusement.

The pair of you marched down the long, red corridor until you reached the second door from the end on your left. The black door had a small, shiny plaque that read, ‘medical bay.’

Roger’s eyes shifted to you, his eyebrows hiking high on his forehead.

You smirked at him and knocked on the door.

Holly answered the door looking like her usual excitable self. “You’ve made it just in time!” She said, throwing her arms around the two of you. “Andie’s getting antsy!”

You and Roger stepped into the room to find Andie puttering around over a tray of intimidating instruments. Needles, syringes and speculums were the only ones you could recognise, but that was enough to send a steely chill through your spine. She wore an aqua coloured latex gown, complete with red boots and gauntlets, and a mask obscuring the lower half of her face.

“Look what the cat dragged in,” she drawled. You could tell from her ocean coloured eyes that she was smiling. 

“It’s good to see you too, Sister,” you grinned. 

“So this is your friend?” she asked, nodding towards Roger.

Holly, standing there in a black silk robe, drew her hand down Roger’s arm. “I like him,” she said.

“You know, we could have lots of fun with him,” Andie remarked.

It earned a nervous giggle from Roger. His eyes struggled to focus on just one thing. From the stirrups at the end of the bed, to the intimidating-looking gas mask on the table beside it. “This is… this is… different,” he choked.

“It’s going to be so much fun,” Hollie beamed, shaking Roger’s arm. “Have you been here before?”

“He’s completely new to this,” you said. “And he still needs breaking in.”

Andie arched one of her over-lined and exaggerated eyebrows like she already knew what was happening – before you and Roger did.

“So what’s on the agenda tonight?” you asked, thrusting your hands into your back pockets.

“Just an examination,” Holly said, perching herself on the edge of the bed. “With a twist!”

“Like…” Roger asked, gesturing towards his nether regions, “A ‘down there’ examination?”

You, Andie and Holly exchanged knowing looks. When Roger cottoned on, his mouth fell open.

“Why don’t you observe from the gallery?” Andie suggested, gesturing towards the door in the far corner of the room. “Don’t want you two making this any more awkward than it has to be for our patient here.”

>>NEXT>>

[jaskierswolf]

You Set My Heart Ablaze Pt.8/25

Previous

It was the weekend.

Finally.

The year was barrelling towards the winter holidays faster than a river crashing over a waterfall. The children were all getting excited for the holiday season and decorations had been cropping up around the school. Tissaia had kept her classroom bare. The students had been allowed to decorate their lockers but the art classroom needed to remain a blank canvas. The addition of tinsel and fairy lights caused unnecessary distraction to her creative process. Her work was methodical and a way for her to organise the chaos in her mind. The decorations around the winter months caused her thoughts to spiral and her anxiety would become almost unbearable.

She closed her eyes and took a long deep breath, counting the beats in her head and then exhaled. She pictured the tension in her shoulders washing away like footprints in the sand. She repeated the process again until her thoughts quietened down. By the time she opened her eyes all thoughts of the brightly coloured school halls had flittered away.

She grabbed her notebook from her purse and began to sketch the trees outside of the coffee shop window. She noted the way the sunlight broke through the branches and danced on the pavement below, the way the bark shimmered in the bright morning sunshine and yet fell into dark gloomy shadows.

She’d always been fascinated by light in her art. The way something so untouchable could completely change the colour and shape of an object. Things that seemed terrible in the darkness were harmless in the light. It was honestly magical and she would never get tired of trying to capture the beauty of the phenomena on paper.  

“Tissaia?”

Her charcoal skidded across the paper as she started at the sound of her name.

Her sketch was ruined.

Yennefer’s violet eyes were shining down on her, her signature raven black hair tumbling down past her shoulders. She had two small coffee cups in her hands.

She sighed and carefully put her charcoal away. She tore the page from her notebook with practiced ease and folded it in half. She would put it in the recycling the next time she went past a bin.

“Yennefer.” She greeted her former student with a smile as she straightened out the sleeves of her shirt. “I didn’t know you were in town.”

“I’m visiting Ciri.” Yennefer nodded to the till where the young girl was taking a paper bag from the barista.

She raised an eyebrow at the younger woman.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “She insisted that she bought her own cake. Honestly, Tissaia I’m not an idiot.”

“I never said you were.”

“You implied it.” Yennefer muttered sharply under her breath.

“Yennefer.” Tissaia sighed and picked up her now cold mug of coffee. “Must we always fight?”

Yennefer laughed at that. “Just like the good old days.”

“I was tough on you because I saw talent. You know that.” She grimaced as she sipped her drink. This always happened when she started drawing but she didn’t want to waste her money by not drinking it.

“Auntie Yen!” Ciri came bounding over clutching the paper bag. “I got a chocolate brownie! It has glitter on it!”

“You already have a hot chocolate?” Yennefer asked holding up one of the cups.

“Yup!” Ciri grinned gleefully.

Yennefer rolled her eyes. “You’ll turn into a chocolate if you’re not careful.”

“No I won’t!” Ciri shook her head. “I asked Mr Jaskier and he said that adults just say that so you won’t eat so much!”

Tissaia smiled as she sipped her coffee. Yennefer looked ready to strike down the younger teacher. Her violet eyes flashed dangerously and she ran her hand through her hair. “Of course he did. Do you know why adults say that?”

Ciri scowled and scrunched up her nose. “Nope!”

“It’s because chocolate is a treat and we should only eat it some of the time. If we ate it all the time then it wouldn’t be special anymore.” Yennefer tried to explain. “Right?”

Tissaia nodded. “She's right.”

Ciri tilted her head at the explanation and narrowed her eyes at Tissaia. “So you lie?”

Tissaia looked at Yennefer who was staring right back at her.

This was why neither of them taught the younger tutor groups.

“Think of it more like a story.” A new voice chimed brightly.

Yennefer groaned as Ciri spun around excitably.

“Mr Jaskier!!”

“Hello, Ciri. Yennefer, Ms de Vries.” Jaskier waved cheerfully. “Adult sometimes tell stories as a way to teach children about the good and bad things of the world, like eating too much chocolate.”

“Like when mummy lions pretend to be scared when the baby lions jump on them?” Ciri asked.

“That’s right!” Jaskier grinned.

“What are you doing here, Buttercup?” Yennefer raised an eyebrow at the brunet.

“Getting coffee?” Jaskier held up his own coffee mug which was covered in a gooey caramel syrup. “Heard they were doing special editions for the holidays and I just love edible glitter.”

Tissaia closed her eyes to try and focussed on her breathing to try and block out the conversation. She had come to the small coffee shop for some well earned peace and quiet. It was part of her weekend routine to help her relax after a week of teaching. She had been coming to the coffee shop every Saturday for years now.

“Tissaia?” Yennefer’s voice again.

“Yennefer” She answered, not opening her eyes, her fingers finding the cuffs of her sleeves with practiced ease.

She heard a shuffle of movement and the excitable voices of Ciri and Jaskier moved away. With a final deep breath she opened her eyes to find Yennefer still staring down at her. Jaskier and Ciri were sat at a nearby table away from her.

“I’m sorry, Tissaia. I didn’t mean to interrupt. When I’ve dropped Ciri back at Geralt’s we can catch up properly.” Yennefer suggested.

“You can tell me all about that blog of yours.” She agreed.

“Like you don’t follow me already.” Yennefer teased gently.

“I’d still like to hear it from you.” She countered, and it was true. She had always followed Yennefer’s ascent into the art world with great interest. She was proud to see her prodigy blossom into a fierce and talented young woman. It was a dream come true to see someone so brilliant succeed and as teacher she bristled with pride to know her student was flying amongst the stars, but mostly she had received all this information second hand through Yennefer’s blog or from Triss and Istredd in the staffroom. It would be nice to hear it from her friend in person for a change.

“Always so sentimental.” Yennefer smirked and then turned back to her ward. “Ciri, leave Mr Jaskier alone. It’s time to meet up with your father.”

“Mr Jaskier can come too!” Ciri suggested.

Tissaia watched the young teacher carefully. It was no secret that Jaskier, amongst others, had a crush on Geralt Rivia. Jaskier and Triss were often found gossiping happily in the corner of the staffroom about how handsome the man was. Tissaia didn’t exactly agree, not that she really found anyone attractive, but the mindless conversation was an entertaining break from teaching and marking.

However, having a harmless crush on a parent was very different from actively dating a parent, especially when their child was in your class. That was frowned upon to say the least. Stregobor would certainly have no qualms about firing Jaskier if he thought there was even a shadow of a doubt in the man’s conduct at work.

Jaskier froze.

His face lit up like a tomato.

And then he promptly threw his coffee all over the table he had sat down at.

“Oh chocolate fudge cakes!” He yelled and jumped back. Ciri squealed and leapt back to avoid the hot liquid. “I am so sorry Ciri. Did it get you?”

Ciri shook her head but seemed a little confused by Jaskier’s sudden clumsiness. “I’m ok.”

“Good. Good. No harm done then. I’ll just get some napkins to clean up this mess. You’d better run along now with your Aunt Yennefer. I bet your dad will be very excited to see you.” Jaskier was talking faster than a rocket as he scooped up his now sodden notebook off the table and look forlornly at the empty mug.

Ciri frowned. “I see him every day.”

“Well then you are a very lucky girl. I will see you on Monday in class. Don’t forget to bring in your favourite story. We’ll be sharing them after lunch.” Jaskier rambled in a hurry and then scurried away to find some cleaning supplies.

Tissaia sighed as the young girl was dragged from the coffee shop, still grasping her paper bag that contained her chocolatey treat.

Jaskier was playing a dangerous game and it was likely going to end in heartbreak. She really hoped he knew what he was doing. _______________

Tissaia sunk down onto her sofa wearily. After the chaos of the her usual quiet time at the coffee shop her thoughts had been racing and she struggled to regain control of her own heartbeat. She’d tried to paint various objects from around her house. She’d started with her plants then moved onto an assortment of candles, but she’d not quite managed to capture the way the flames flickered and glowed on the paper and she’d only ended up more frustrated than when she’d started.

After that she’d decided to clear up her kitchen. She’d been too tired during the week and the mess had begun to build up. It had taken longer than she’d expected but as she’d cleaned and organised her kitchen she’d felt her thoughts follow suit. Her feet were now aching and her arms were sore. She’d sleep well tonight.

She hummed happily as she poured herself a glass of red wine. She took a deep breath as she inhaled the swirling lavender scent from her candles. There were no children and she was at peace. It wasn’t that she hated the children. She loved her job really, she loved bringing light and art to a whole new generation of brilliant young minds. She loved their vivid imaginations and endless enthusiasm for the beauty in the world, but by the end of the week she was always emotionally drained. She had considered giving up teaching full time and offering private lessons, or spending more time on her own work and commissions but the stability teaching gave held her back.

She’d just picked up her book when her phone rang. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Apparently nothing was going her way today. She checked the caller ID. It was Yennefer. She clicked the green button and put the phone on speaker.

“Hello Yennefer.” She answered, trying to keep the fatigue from her voice.

“Tissaia. I’m outside. Let me in.” Yennefer asked, if you could really call it a question.

She considered leaving her outside but Yennefer was like family to her after all these years. She hung up the phone and smoothed down her skirt before opening the door. Yennefer was stood holding a large rectangular brown paper package under her arm. She was wearing black jeans that looked like they’d been vacuumed onto her body they were so tight, a plain white t-shirt with cropped leather jacket. God forbid that Yennefer ever wear colour. Tissaia gestured for her to come inside.

“A little warning wouldn’t go amiss, Yennefer.” Tissaia chided gently.

“A warning gives you the chance to say no.” Yennefer countered. “I don’t come back that often, Tissaia. I wanted to see you properly before I left.”

She nodded. “Wine?”

“Please.” Yennefer grinned. “I brought you something.” She added once Tissaia had poured out a second glass of wine and they’d settled down onto the sofa together.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow at the parcel that was propped up against the wall. She’d seen enough canvases in her time to recognise one even through brown paper.

“What’s the occasion?”

“Does there have to be an occasion?” Yennefer challenged but rolled her eyes at the look she received for her question. The two of them were friends, almost like mother and daughter, but that didn’t mean they always had an easy friendship, and surprise presents were certainly unusual, especially from Yennefer. “The Solstice is coming up, an apology for earlier, a thank you for convincing Stregobor to let Ciri into the school. Take your pick.”

Tissaia paused mid sip of her wine, touched by Yennefer’s display of thoughtfulness. She smiled at her younger friend and put her glass down so that she could open the parcel. The pulled the tape off the corners of the present, careful not to damage the canvas hidden beneath the paper and peeled back the edges of the wrapping. The painting was bright and bold and fiery, everything that screamed Yennefer, but there was a strange calmness around the edges of the painting like waves lapping at the sand.

Yennefer shuffled awkwardly and took a long swig of her wine. “It’s not your usual style, I know that. It probably would look completely out of place with the rest of your house so I don’t expect you to hang it up but it’s yours, a Vengerberg original.”

Yennefer wasn’t wrong. The chaos that exuded from all of Yennefer’s artwork would clash horrible with the carefully cultivated tranquility of Tissaia’s house but that didn’t stop a wave of unbridled emotion from rising up in her chest.

“It’s beautiful.” She wanted to trace the swirls of colour with her finger but resisted. She didn’t want to damage the brushwork. “I’ll find a place for it. Everything has its place. Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it.” Yennefer brushed off her praise with a wave of her hand. “So did I tell you what the owner of Aedirn said about my last article?”

Tissaia smirked. She’d met Virfuril once or twice at galas and she’d quickly realised he was a misogynistic racist prick. He cared more about an artist’s appearance, and social standing than about their art. His gallery was full of art made solely by young straight white women. Diversity was not a word that featured in the man’s vocabulary.

Yennefer had called him out on it in her last review, challenging him to feature work by black artists, artists of all different races, sexualities, genders, ages, religions. She’d spoken out about how her own art had been pulled from the gallery, whilst she was still studying at university, once Virfuril had realised Yennefer’s own diverse background after pictures of her childhood and her grandfather had been leaked during her last year at the university.

The younger artist hadn’t known any better back in university. She’d used her privilege to her own advantage without even realising. It had taken Yennefer years to realise that her voice mattered, especially with a growing platform where more and more people were listening to her every day. Now she stood tall and proud, not letting a single person pull her down because of her race, gender or disabilities. Tissaia imagined Virfuril didn’t take too kindly to her just attack but she was immensely proud of her friend. She swirled her wine gently in her glass before deciding she needed a top up.

“You didn’t.” She replied to her friend. “But I can only imagine it was as dull and pathetic as his gallery.”

Yennefer laughed and launched into her story. Tissaia felt herself relaxing as she listened to Yennefer’s scathing remarks and gleeful retelling of how the Aedirn was beginning to lose credibility. It had been a long day but she was glad that her friend had visited. It turned out to be exactly what she needed after a week of teaching children.

_________________

The coffee shop encounter played on Tissaia’s mind intermittently for the rest of the weekend. It was never easy meeting the children outside of school. Most of the younger students were convinced that the teachers lived at the school and never seemed to understand why their teachers were suddenly infiltrating their weekend lives. Ciri had taken meeting Jaskier in the coffee shop in her stride and she assumed that was down to Yennefer’s influence, her young friend had become a sort of mother figure in Ciri’s life. Ciri hadn’t seemed to have recognised Tissaia outside of school but that was probably for the best.

That being said, Tissaia couldn’t stop replaying the entire scenario in her head.

Ciri’s excitement when Jaskier had arrived was not unusual, especially for the younger pupils. Jaskier’s classes always adored him and even the older years still greeted him fondly after they’d left his class, but for her to invite her teacher along to meet her father.

That was…odd.

She sighed as she picked up her register from Triss.

“Morning Ms de Vries.” Triss mumbled.

Tissaia raised an eyebrow at the receptionist’s appearance. Her hair was impossibly wilder than usual and she had bags under her eyes. The young girl was gripping onto her coffee mug as if it were a lifeline.

“Ms Merigold.” She greeted. “Late night?”

“Yennefer wanted to catch up. I always forget how much wine that woman can drink.” Triss groaned.

“Hungover on a Monday morning? How professional.”

Triss fixed her with a glare. “Not a word to the headmaster.” She hissed.

Tissaia pulled a packet of painkillers from her purse and slid them across the desk. “My lips are sealed.”

“Oh thank god.” Triss grabbed the tablets eagerly. “Yen didn’t have any in her cupboard. I swear she’s inhuman.”

“You stayed the night?”

“Not a word!” Triss squeaked.

Tissaia smirked at the younger girl. “You should have checked her purse. You know she keeps her painkillers on her. Oh and Triss?”

“What?”

“Try and perk up before the students arrive. You look like death.”

“Always so kind.” Triss mumbled but knocked back the rest of her coffee.

She tucked the register under her arm and started to make her way to her classroom. She was about halfway there when she stopped. The memory of the coffee shop came rushing back and she spun round on her heels towards the primary school block. It was always easy to tell if Jaskier was in early. The telltale sound of music echoed down the corridor. She grimaced. The sound was not Jaskier’s best. It reminded her of the school’s end of year concerts where all the children were expected to sing and most of them couldn’t quite hold a note. It was probably a new instrument for the young teacher and he clearly hadn’t mastered the basics yet.

She smoothed down the edges of her shirt and then knocked on the bright yellow door.

“Come in!” Jaskier sang from inside.

She took a deep breath and walked into the classroom. She raised her eyebrow and the finger paintings that were pinned up on washing lines on the ceiling. Jaskier was a brilliant musician and wordsmith but his art skills needed work. No wonder the children that came through into secondary school had the artistic talent of an earthworm.

“Mr Pankratz.” She greeted him with a nod.

He jumped off the desk he was sitting on with a start, clearly expecting a different visitor. He placed the strange guitar like instrument on the floor carefully. “Ms de Vries! What can I do for you?”

“Can we talk about Ciri?”

Jaskier visibly paled. “Ciri? What’s wrong with her?”

“Sit down, Jaskier.” She gestured to his chair behind the desk at the front of the classroom.

Instead he jumped back onto the desk itself, clearly the man was allergic to chairs. She very rarely saw him sitting in one properly. She bristled and took a deep breath.

“So…” He ran a hand through his hair and looked distractedly out of the window. “Ciri?”

“Why would she ask you to meet Geralt?”

Jaskier laughed nervously. “She’s a sweet girl.”

“Who wants you to meet her father outside of school?”

“Well… umm. Yes but I swear that has nothing to do with me! Maybe Geralt, Mr Rivia, has said something at home.” Jaskier blushed and then cleared his throat. “Don’t know why he would though. I’m just a lowly teacher and he’s this…” Jaskier gesticulated wildly, “this godlike hero.”

Tissaia raised an eyebrow.

“And by the gods he is beautiful. I do wonder whether his hair is naturally that colour. It’s like he’s captured the moonbeams and woven them into strands of hair.” Jaskier sighed wistfully.

“Mr Pankratz.” She cut him off sharply. “I hope you know what Stregobor would do if he heard you talking like this. It’s a wonder that Mr Marx hasn’t fed your conversations with Triss back to him.”

Jaskier flushed. “That man is a no good, snotty faced piece of sh—”

“Jaskier!” She cut him off.

“Sugar farts.” He finished.

“Sugar farts?” She chuckled.

“Not my best work I know.” He sighed dramatically and swung his legs up and laid back on the desk. “You know the only reason he hasn’t ratted me out is because he fancies Triss and he knows that he can’t get me in trouble without getting her into trouble”

“I’m aware.” Tissaia nodded. “Sometimes I wonder who the real children are in this school.” She muttered under her breath.

“Well that’s rude.” Jaskier huffed.

“Just be careful. Whatever is going on with you and Mr Rivia, you need to remain professional. He’s Ciri’s father.” Tissaia reminded him gently. “You’re a good teacher, Jaskier. I don’t want you to lose your head over this. It would hurt Ciri to lose you as her teacher and God only knows that girl has been through enough.”

Jaskier groaned into his hands. “Bollocks.”

“Julian.” She warned.

“Seriously fuck it all. It’s not fair.” He moaned.

She sighed. “And that’s the hardest lesson of all.”

The bell rang and Jaskier leapt off the desk and scooped up his instrument, putting it back in its case. “Yes well. Thank you for that inspiring lesson, Ms de Vries. Now if you could kindly fuck off.”

“Jaskier.” She sighed.

“Before the kids arrive. I have work to do.” He turned away from her.

She nodded and brushed down her skirt. It had been the right thing to do. She was fond of Jaskier. She wanted to protect him, to prevent him from making a mistake. It didn’t make her a bad person. He was just hurting but this would be better in the long run. She went to open the door but almost fell through as it was opened from the other side.

Geralt Rivia was standing, shocked, in the doorway.

“Mr Rivia?” She stammered before regaining her composure. She spun round to see Jaskier blushing brightly behind his instrument case. “Everything alright?”

Geralt nodded curtly. “Just wanted to ask Mr Pankratz a question about Ciri’s guitar lessons whilst she’s in the loo.”

“Ah yes. The guitar lessons. Have you found a teacher yet? I have a few names to recommend!” Jaskier replied quickly.

“Not yet.” Geralt shook his head.

“Right.” Tissaia hummed thoughtfully. “Have a good day.”

She fled from the room swiftly, glaring at the streams of fairy lights that littered the corridors. The intermittent flashing was giving her a headache already and the day had barely started. Her grip tightened on her bag as she made her way to her classroom.

“Guitar lessons.” She muttered under her breath and pinched the bridge of her nose. “What utter nonsense.” She heard the shouts of children coming from her classroom and rolled her eyes. It was far too early to be dealing with fighting on a Monday morning. She burst into her class, her skirt billowing out behind her. “Right!” She called loudly grabbing the attention of the few children that had already arrived. “Settle down!”

The students grumbled but the shouting faded to hushed chatter.

She pulled the register out of her bag and sat at her desk.

The weekend couldn’t come soon enough.

_____

Next

[simsadventures]

Not Me: Chapter 6: Little Too Late

CEO!Bucky x Wife!Reader

Summary: For the first time in a long time, you and Bucky actually sit down and talk. And you cannot believe your own ears.

Warnings: angst (I mean, what’s new), talk of the past, tiniest bit of fluff

Word Count: 2443

A/N: Bucky’s got some explaining to do, doesn’t he? Let’s hope you all will listen to him :) Let me know what you thought about the chapter, my lovely people! xx

Series Masterlist __ Masterlist

< Previous Chapter

Nervous as hell, you get out of your car in front of what you called home for the year and something of your marriage. More like hell, you think as you step on the gravel on the road in front of the stairs leading to the front door.

It took you some time to actually reply to James’ message, trying to figure out what game he was playing. You did everything you thought he wanted, and that you needed. You left the house, you promised to go to a divorce lawyer and send him the papers without him having to do anything. 

You knew in your mind that you wouldn’t want anything from his, just peace and quiet and for him to leave you the fuck alone.

But the text he sent you made you confused. He was begging you? He understood something? That was so unlike the James you got to know in your marriage that you couldn’t wrap your head around it. Not that it wasn’t nice, feeling like you were in control for once. Sure. But you weren’t sure how long the power would stay in your hands.

You didn’t understand what he wanted and tried to figure out why in the hell he would actually want to speak to you.

You asked him where thought you should meet, he texted you that any place was good, only not the company. He told you he had a good reason for this, and that he would tell you everything once he saw you. You had two options then: his house or your apartment. And because you wanted to have a free way out, you opted for the first option. Also, you wanted to keep as much distance between the two of you, and you didn’t want James to know where you lived. Nobody knew, and you planned on keeping it that way. Nobody but your brothers, of course.

You slowly walked towards the door, and before you could reach them, James was already standing there, opening the door for you.

He gave you a shy smile and scratched the back of his neck as you walked around him, and you frowned at the action. Why did he suddenly seem like a schoolboy, nervous to even look at you? You thought it was another sick way to maybe make you fall in love with him once again and then hurt you even more than before. But you wouldn’t fall for his fake facade. Not again.

Bucky watched you pull out in front of the house, and his heart started beating a little faster. He was actually surprised you even agreed on meeting him, let alone so quickly. He thought it was probably so that you’d have it behind you as soon as possible and you could start a new life, preferably without him in it.

He understood you completely. He looked for more evidence that it wasn’t you playing him, but, indeed, somebody quite different who Bucky trusted all this time blindly. He was seething just thinking about the prospect of it all, but he tamed his emotions. He needed to have a clear head when talking to you so that he could explain everything as best as he could, trying to beg for your forgiveness, even though he was aware of just how slim chances of that happening were.

All he needed was to lay all the information he had on the table, so that you knew what was going on in his head, and that he wasn’t the asshole he tried to make you believe during that year. Touch, he knew, but Bucky wanted to believe that he had enough evidence to persuade you.

When you got out of the car, he saw you, what felt like the first time. You looked so much healthier than when you lived with him, and his heart clenched in his chest. He knew you still had some pounds to gain to be on your normal weight, but at least colour came back to your cheeks, and your hair looked much healthier as well.

Bucky didn’t even realise he was smiling and watching you until you were standing right in front of him, and he diverted his gaze, feeling a like a teenager who has just been caught watching his crush. He scratched the back of his neck nervously and saw the line on your forehead increasing due to your frown. Your face obviously hardened, and Bucky sighed inwardly. So, not to a good start, he thought as he closed the door behind you and followed you to the living room.

When you came in, Bucky expected you to sit down immediately, but you stood, unsure of what to do.

“Let’s sit, Y/N. This is your house as well, you don’t have to stand around,” Bucky smiled warmly at you, but all you gave him was a confused face and a sarcastic scoff that followed.

“This has never been my house. I simply slept and worked here, nothing homely for me here, trust me,” you said with a mock smile as you sat down on the sofa. It used to be your favourite sofa when you lived there, but without the fluffy pillows which were your purchase, it looked a little sad. Just like the rest of the house, but you didn’t want to look around too much.

“Let’s cut to the chase, shall we? I don’t want to be here longer than absolutely necessary,” you said coldly as you looked straight at Bucky.

He looked different. You didn’t know if it was because you haven’t seen him for so long, which definitely wasn’t something you were used to, or because of the large blue sacks under his eyes. For a split second, you thought he looked at miserably as you did when you had to live with him. And despite him being the sole reason for your misery, you felt sorry for him, your kind heart having a hard time seeing anyone in distress.

Bucky coughed a little and pulled out a briefcase, giving you a curt nod.

“Right, sorry. This will be a word that I’ll say a lot today, so just bear with me, please,” he said with a sad smile, and pulled some papers out of the briefcase, putting them on the conference table in front of you.

You could see it was a contract of some sort, but because you haven’t seen one in a long time, you couldn’t be sure what it was concerning. It was obviously some kind of a copy, because Bucky, or somebody, highlighted the critical parts with a yellow highlighter. He pushed it to your hands, signalling that you should have a look at the yellow part.

You nodded and skimmed through it.

In case Barnes and Clark’s families connect through marriage, the company cannot be sold to anybody else, nor can any third party take over the company as such. In this case, the founding members of the company stay in leadership positions, able to veto the CEO’s decisions. Further explanation of this clause to be found in section 17, clause 198.

You frowned at it, your eyes looking at Bucky briefly before you tried to find the clause stated in the previous paragraph. But, just like Bucky, you couldn’t find it. It was obviously supposed to be on the next page, but the page simply wasn’t there. The question was why.

“Where is section 17, clause 198, James? And what the fucking hell is this shit?” You said, still not believing your own eyes.

“This is the contract that I signed when I took over the company. I thought I had the original because there wasn’t the usual talk about original and copies and how they should be exactly the same, but I didn’t even think to look for it, to be honest with you. My dad gave me this contract to sign, my fucking dad, Y/N. I mean, I went through it, but I didn’t read it properly, obviously. And I’ve looked through the whole fucking office, and the original isn’t there either, so it must be with either my or your dad,” Bucky finished and looked back at you only to found you staring at him with your mouth hanging open.

You shook your head, trying to get your brain to work.

“Cool, this is horrific, and I would also like to see what the original fucking deal states, but you obviously found out about this only now, so, I’m not really sure how it fits the whole picture,” you said, bidding Bucky continue.

He then told you all about Rebecca and the photos and the videos, how his father made him believe that it was all your doing, and how Bucky never questioned him. You listened to him intently, standing up in the middle of his speech, pacing around the room, your heart beating fast in your chest.

“Why in the hell would you think I would ever do something like this? Don’t you know me at all? James, I would never-“

“Bucky, please, call me Bucky,” he jumped in, and you lost it.

“You fucking made me call you James for the whole marriage because you thought it was more appropriate, I’m not going back to Bucky. You fucking asked for this. You never thought of coming to me with all of that, demanding information?” You were yelling, breathing heavily.

Bucky stood up as well, facing you with a sad face.

“He told me that if I ever confronted you, you would post all those photos online, that you would make Becca’s life miserable, even more than it already is, with all that’s going on with her and the drugs. I didn’t want to take the risk. I was stupid, ok? I was fucking scared and stupid and made your life miserable. I don’t have anything for my defence. I’m the biggest asshole in this whole goddamn world,” he sighed and slumped back onto the armchair.

You were watching him, calming yourself a little. You tried to look at things from his perspective. If it was your brother who was in some shit, and you could save him by something like that… You honestly didn’t know what you would do.

You sat down as well.

“I can’t find an excuse for your behaviour, at least not all of it, James. Even if I could myself in your shoes and understood the turmoil inside you for not being able to talk to me, I certainly don’t understand why you treated me the way you did. The little things, like not letting me work, or sleeping with whom I considered one of my best friends-“

“I never slept with Natasha. I’m not gonna lie, I did sleep with a few women over the year, but it wasn’t as many as I made you believe. I wanted to hurt you, and I thought I would do so by making you believe I slept with somebody else. I know, I’m a pitiful excuse for a man, I know. But I never slept with Natasha, I swear!” He exclaimed, begging you with his eyes.

“What are you talking about? I saw you coming out of the room together, both of you looked like you fucked!”

“We didn’t. Natasha asked me if she could talk to me in private, so I showed her inside the room, and then she was all over me, unbuttoning my shirt, ruffling my hair, kissing my shirt. I tried to pull her away from me, but she was persistent. When I finally succeeded her marks were on me, and her hair also looked a little out of place. I told her that I wouldn’t do that, and we left the room, and that’s when you saw us. I wanted to tell you how it was, but then I realised that I hated you, and so I let you believe that it actually happened,” he whispered the last part, evidently ashamed of himself.

You watched him, trying to find a trace of him lying, but you couldn’t find anything. All you saw was a broken man, trying to prove he wasn’t as big of a piece of shit as you thought. Not that it was helping that much, but there was a part of him, a tiny part, that understood him.

You sighed heavily and dropped your head between your shoulders, thinking. A few minutes passed by as you just sat there in silence, both of you lost in your thoughts.

“Is there a chance of you ever forgiving me, Y/N?” Bucky asked, sounding like a wounded animal.

“Honestly? I don’t know, James. There were times when I thought I was in love with you, and I was so happy when we spent time together again and then you proposed. But then everything changed, and I don’t even know you anymore. I understand that you tried to protect your family, but I thought I was your family as well. I guess I was wrong. So, I don’t know. I’m not gonna give you a hard no because one never knows, but I’m not sure how to go about it all. And if, if I ever forgive you, it will take a lot of time. I’m not sure you have patience enough or if it’s worth it,” you mentioned, giving James the closest to a smile you could muster.

“Fair enough, I don’t even deserve your forgiveness, I know I don’t. But I want to ask something different. Do you want to take revenge on those putting us through this all?”

Your look darkened at the prospect of hurting both your and Bucky’s father. You never had any personal issue with Mr Barnes, but he obviously had one with you. However, your father was something different altogether. He deserved to be dragged through the mud for all he’s ever done to you.

Smirking at James, you nodded your head, already imagining the different ways of going about the whole revenge business.

Bucky nodded back.

“Alright, good. They have no idea that I know this, of that I’m sure. They just think I’m pissed at them for vetoing my vote in the board meeting. Did you tell your father that you moved out?”

You shook your head negative, and Bucky smirked at you. You might not have known him anymore, but you remembered this face. He had a plan on his mind, and there was no way of stopping him. You just hoped that the plan of his wouldn’t drag you through something worse than you have already encountered.

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Not Me:

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If your name is crossed out, tumblr won’t let me tag you for some reason, I’m sorry.

If you’d like to be tagged comment/message/send an ask. If you like the story, please reblog :) any comments are appreciated, even the critical ones. Always a space to get better, so let me know what you guys think.

[tendertenebrosity]

New piece for TJ and Danny, my Path and Handler OCs from @wildfaewhump‘s Pathverse! Masterpost for these OCs is here. This might end up being the start of an Arc!

TJ pressed his hands against the back of his head, squeezing tight as if he could gather and hold his swirling thoughts closer, somehow gain more control over them. It hurt. Everything hurt. Even if he just tried to sit and breathe and think of nothing, it hurt.

You must deserve this. The thought seemed to wash nebulously around the edges of his mind, and he didn’t understand why but he accepted it, dully. Everything was dark and ugly and horrible and even if TJ didn’t know what he’d done to deserve the pain that felt like it was splitting his skull apart, it made sense. He must have done something, or just been something, terrible.

He felt like his mind was some sort of foul drain, and all the worst and most awful thoughts and images and memories sloshed around in it. Anger, disgust, fear, grief, violence… lapping around and over everything that he thought of as TJ until he couldn’t tell where he stopped and they began anymore.

But if he could just sit still, and breathe, and think of as little as possible and hold himself tight…

“Hey. Stop it.”

Gloved fingers pried at his, trying to make him let go.

TJ whimpered. He curled his hands up into fists instead, still folded up as small as he could get. The hands, large and warm, kept on touching him – pushing his arms away from his head, smoothing his hair back into place, patting his shoulder roughly and insistently.

“Come on, kid, where are you? Let go of your fucking… come on back, now. There. Hey. Kid.”

TJ took a deep breath, letting himself be pushed and dislodged from his tight ball, becoming more aware of where he was. He was sitting in a hard plastic chair. His mouth tasted of blood, and his breathing was clogged and heavy with the iron-thick smell of it. The warm bulk of his handler, Danny, was leaning over him, nudging him back into reality with rough touches and words.

“Hurts,” he whispered.

“Yeah, kid, I know.” Danny’s hand thumped him on the shoulder, shook him gently. “Shit, for a second there I thought...” He made a harsh noise, breath leaving his mouth in a hiss. “Never mind. You did good. Did real good this morning.”

But… TJ sniffled, feeling something warm and wet drip onto the back of his hand, where he’d placed it onto his knee. I messed everything up, again. If I did good why do I hurt so much?

He had a dim idea that courtroom days hadn’t always been like this. That they used to just be difficult work, not something that left him hurting this badly and wishing desperately that the day would be over. He thought – the memories he waded through used to hurt less, didn’t get into his dreams and fester as much. It felt like so long ago.

“Did I really?” he asked, his voice a low croak. Colours and shapes seemed to swirl behind his eyes, the normal darkness of the blindfold sickly whirling. “But I – ”

“You did fine,” Danny snapped. “Here. Drink this.”

Something was pushed into his hands, smooth and cool and beaded with moisture. TJ sat up obediently and lifted it to his mouth. Just water, cool and flat-tasting, immediately tinged with blood.

He swallowed it past a surge of nausea. “Do I have to go back in?” he asked, pitifully, miserably. It seemed an insurmountable certainty, looming over him, impossible to contemplate and yet inevitable. TJ didn’t think he could go back to another reading. But he had been thinking that for a really long time and yet…

“Fuck no!” Danny’s hand slapped on the table surface, making TJ jump. “Once you look alive again, we’re going back to the goddamn Agency, and mother-fucking Ethan can just shove it up his ass. I send you back in for another reading, it’ll just fucking overload you. Again.”

“Ethan?” TJ said, bewildered. “Again?” That had been a lot of words, he tried in vain to follow them. He thought it had been a no? His head hurt, so much, like it had been broken apart and now every time he moved it grated. “Do I… I don’t have to…”

He heard Danny give a heavy sigh. “No, kid, no more readings today.”

TJ sighed in relief, his shoulders slumping. He drank another swallow of the water. He could go home, to curl up in his cubby, maybe sleep, maybe later get clean… although he knew no amount of soap and warm water would get rid of the ugly, cruel thoughts bobbing about under the surface of his mind.

After a minute or so, when the water was nearly gone, there was a crackle and rustle of packaging, and something else was put into his hands, rough and sticky. TJ just held it, listlessly. It was probably a muesli bar. He didn’t want it.  

“Come on. You need the sugar.” Danny was moving around, putting things away and slapping folders around, making more noise than he needed to; he was angry, but not with TJ. “It’s your favourite. Apricot.”

TJ lifted it to his mouth absently… but then he paused.

“How do you know?” he asked, the words coming out thin but clear. The water had been maybe too cold; he found himself shivering. He clamped another hand on his wrist to hold the muesli bar still.

“What?” Danny’s phone was making blooping noises, rapid and impatient sounding. He sounded distracted.

“It is. My favourite. But how did you know that?”

“You told me.”

TJ tipped his head to one side, shuddered and rode out the wave of sick pain this caused. “Did I? I don’t remember…”

The beeping stopped.  

“Uh-huh. Eat the damn thing. We’re on our way in a minute.”

 ~

 TJ shifted in the bed, uncomfortably. The infirmary was… loud. Machinery noises, electric beeps, the sigh of air conditioning and ventilation filled his ears, nothing like the quiet and calm of his cubby.

Not loud enough to drown out the argument he’d heard outside the door of the room earlier, a familiar loud harsh voice and several softer ones. But loud enough that TJ couldn’t sleep now. His head still ached, though nowhere near as badly.

He could hear the scratching of a pen, too, from beside the bed.

“Handler?” he whispered into the darkness.

The scratching stopped. Danny grunted. “Yeah, kid?”

“Can I… ask you a question?”

A heavy sigh, the noise of someone shifting in a chair, the clink of something being put down. “Not getting any-fucking-where with this report, so you might as well. What?”

Maybe this was a bad idea. TJ hesitated, but this had been fluttering at the edge of his awareness for hours, and Danny wouldn’t be angry, would he? TJ felt pretty sure that Danny didn’t usually get angry, though he wasn’t quite sure where that conviction came from.

“Apricot muesli bars,” TJ said eventually. “How did you know?”

Another sigh, heavy through the nose. “You told me. Like I said.”

“But I didn’t?” TJ protested. “When did we talk about that?” Conversations about non-Agency things were rare enough that TJ treasured almost all of them, turned them over and over in his mind in his cubby at night. He was sure he would have remembered.  He couldn’t remember ever talking to Danny about his favourite anything.

“Yeah, well, it was months ago.”

TJ put his head back on the pillow and lay still for a while, listening to the beeping. He tried to count backwards. And it was a stupid thing to be worried about, really, but… no matter how he did it there just wasn’t enough room. TJ had 4 days at court a week, so – if he counted back from non-court days, estimated that way… how many weeks…

“You’ve only been my handler for a little while,” TJ said, weakly, confused. He was being disobedient, argumentative, a bad Path, and for something so petty… but this wasn’t making sense.  It hadn’t been months.

He could hear Danny shifting around, the hiss of his breath, fidgeting. His voice, when he spoke, was odd. Tired. Sad.

“Shit. I’ve been your handler for over a year now, TJ.”

TJ felt the way he did when he misjudged how many stairs there were, but worse, in his whole body, like a hole had opened up under his feet and he had fallen into it. He searched in his mind for more memories of Danny, a year’s worth of memories, and there was nothing there.

There was nothing else either. When exactly had he started doing readings for the courts? A long time, maybe a year, but… He recalled his last handler, a clipped voice that had never said more than two unnecessary words to him. When had she changed to Danny? What had his first court case reading been? If it had been a year that should be so many readings, way more, he remembered it being okay for a while and now it was so hard but what had happened in between?

“I – I don’t remember,” he whispered.

A heavy sigh, from Danny. The words came slowly, reluctantly. “No, kid. You don’t.”

“What – what happened? Why is – how do you – ” His hands curled up against the cool material of the infirmary sheets, and he shifted his head fretfully. He must have done something wrong, but what? It felt like there had been another TJ all along, one who’d done and said things that this TJ had no idea about. A machine somewhere beeped faster, and the bed seemed to be swaying underneath TJ even though he knew it wasn’t.

“Hey, hey, none of that, whoa,” Danny said sharply. The chair creaked, and big gloved hands took hold of TJ’s and pressed them still. “Shit, I shouldn’t have… look, kid, TJ. I know you don’t remember. But that’s OK.”

TJ shivered. His head hurt. He felt queasy. Everything was swaying and moving around him, nothing was solid or dependable. Except the hands on his.

“It is?”

Danny made an indecipherable noise, like half a chuckle or a huff and annoyance. His hands pinned TJ’s to the sheet over his chest.

“Yeah, kid, it is,” he said. “It’s fine. Don’t… worry about it. Everything’s working just as it’s supposed to, and you haven’t done anything wrong.”

TJ let his head loll back against the bed. Deep breath, in and out.

“Do you remember?” he whispered. “The whole year?”

Danny’s fingers squeezed his slightly. “Yeah, kid. I do.”

That was something. The year was not gone. It still existed, somewhere, even if TJ no longer had access to it.

“Then… I don’t need to?” TJ asked, quavering. “That’s why it’s okay? You remember it all so it’s okay if I don’t?”

“Sure. Yeah.” Danny’s voice was still odd, quiet, rough, tired. “I’ll always tell you whatever you need to do, so as long as you listen to me everything will be fine.”

TJ nodded, slowly. This was not his cubby, he didn’t know what was happening, nothing made sense. But there was a thread to hold onto, something solid and warm and real.

Danny knew what was going on, so TJ didn’t have to. As long as that was the case, everything would be fine.  

“Okay,” he whispered, and slept.

[justamixofemoandpunk]

Ok so i have to publish stuff for one of my classes. and I am publishing it to tumblr dot com

Please don't be mean I'm sorry.

Poetry Portfoilio:

I Come from poem

I come from rainstorms

Softly tapping the windows,

Nourishing the ground

Rainbows are just around the corner,

And yet nobody wants it to end

Soft and comforting

I come from rainstorms

With howling winds,

Beating at the doors,

flooding ponds and

Spattering against the window

Ripping petals off flowers

Violent and merciless

I come from cool mornings,

With fuzzy sweaters and hot tea

Coffee weak to with sugar and cream

Favorite spices stirred in

Trees are turning bright colors in the distance

Rubbing sleep from your eyes

I com from cool mornings,

With harsh wind biting cheeks and noses

Painfully early

Headaches from trying to remember a forgotten dream

And burning fevers

I come from mist and fog

Warm mornings with honeysuckle perfume

Birds in the far distance chirp

Of a new day

Covered in a fluffy white sweater

I come from mist and fog

Shrouding the distance

“Danger, Danger” whispers the trees

A snake slithers unseen on the forest floor

Mystery itself is fearful

I come from power herself

Spring spots poem

flowers peeking through honeysuckle vines

with bowed heads from the weight of the world

and pink stretch marks from holding it up

they do not care, they know they are strong and beautiful

and yet tired all the same from the thankless work

more flowers appear,

this time with anger that they hold the weight of the world

they have bowed heads too, they are also tired

they do not want to clean up thanklessly after others

just like the previous generation

yet they are tired, because they do it too,

and try to explain they they do not have to be the only ones to help

the first flowers fade, wrinkling and fading

tired out, exhausted

they droop to the ground

without mourning save but from the other flowers

just as they fall

more flowers bloom in their place

not picking up the weight of the world,

they have seen the damage it does

they do not want to hurt

they try to convince the other plants and creatures to help,

telling them that the damage won’t be so great

but the others just laugh

After all, why would they pick up, why would they work when they hadn't before?

they wouldn't be hurt either way

it stings, it hurts

so when the last generation dies

there is a frost

everyone suffers

the other plants are mad at the flowers

for not picking up the weight of the world

the flowers are angry, because the other plants will not listen

only cruelly twist their words against them

so when the next flowers appear

the dying second set of flowers tell them not to pick it up

for the other plants will eventually pick up their share

the new flowers won't pick it up,

and they try to explain that everyone needs to help

but the other plants won’t listen

and the cycle repeats, it looks doomed

When will the other plants learn?

Will the flowers ever get a break?

Sonnet

Sonnet to people who won’t wear a mask

Shall I compare thee to a summer's day

For thou art hasn't even a bit of class

You look like an animal that eats hay

Say, thou art even dressed the part,( donkey)

You killed a baboon and stolen it’s face

you're a murderer and uncunning thief

your mother never gave you an embrace

but a mere peek of your face causes grief

You are steadfast to theories of fraud

you use sources from all except science

At logic you have stridently guffawed

doctors receive only your defiance

To the nearest grocery employee

I say: run! covid is a guarantee

4 word poem

444Early thunder webs porch

I woke up early this morning

Packed my bag, took a quick shower,

Stepped onto the webbed porch

Walked down to the nearest train station

The city was already bustling, but in a tired sort of way

I boarded the metro, and dozens of ghostly eyes glanced up,

Haunted by the lack of sleep, decimated by the stresses

Only one pair of them saw me, I knew.

It was myself at a young age

visiting the art museum with my mother and brother

I still remember that trip.

If only my naive self knew what would happen.

What would become of me

What will happen

These Have I Loved

Cars whizzing past my house, blaring the radio, the sharing their snippets of sound

Raindrops dripping down a window,

The smell of baking bread in the oven, and the sizzle of eggs on the stove,

A book by the crackling fire,

Inky calligraphy, a page of scribbles for warming up the ink

Shooting stars speeding by, a gasp and a hundred thousand silent wishes

The stars and the moon, shining bright,

White roses dyed with split stems

Chalk monsters on driveways

Clouds forming and shifting, butterflies flitting between the bushes

Honeysuckle flowers picked and nectar greedily sipped out

Lumps of moss gently placed in potting soil, caringly watered.

666 this is just to say

This is just to say:

I forgot to text you back

I forgot to write the email

I promise I was thinking of you

I promised I haven’t forgotten

I miss you so much

I promise I love you still

I promise I promise I promise

I am thinking of you

I care, but I can’t write the email

I promise I tried

Forgive me

stretched pantoum( I’m sorry 3 stanzas wasn’t enough)

I’m scared/

Another friend drops/

I do not know their name/

Why does nobody notice everyone is falling//

Another friend drops /

My heart beats faster/

Why does nobody notice everyone is falling/

They’re being murdered by the minute//

My heart beats faster/

Why does nobody else see the blue-grey-green murderer/

They’re being murdered by the minute /

It’s holding a bloody hatchet, //

Why does nobody else see the blue-grey-green murderer/

It’s holding their head under water,/

It’s holding a bloody hatchet/

Why do they answer it’s sick questions //

It’s holding their head underwater,/

I KNEW THAT PERSON/

Why did they answer his sick questions/

They’re gone now, never coming home, never coming home//

I KNEW THAT PERSON/

And they’re gone, gone forever/

They’re gone now, never coming home, never coming home/

They were drowned in the fountain//

And they’re gone, gone forever/

With a hatchet in the back/

They were drowned in the fountain/

They were poisoned//

With a hatchet in the back/

They sank to their knees, eyes up to heaven/

They were poisoned/

They had no choice//

5 different ways of looking at the moon

A one-eyed space cat,

Staring with unwavering attention,

Never bothering to shake the glittering dust off its coat

It keeps a silent sigil

A bitten cookie,

Rudely munched on by ants

They didn’t even notice the silver and gold leaf

In their hunger, it was just more food

The cat is growing sleepy

It has been there for millenia

Ever watching, waiting

Why does it stay? What is going to happen?

A teacup,

Left with only the bitter dregs,

Someone forgot to take the teabag out

The last drops are cold and strong

Maybe the cat drank it

A colourful stamp on paint named ”Satin night”

Spotted and not quite perfect

Maybe from a cork

Slammed so hard the paint spattered

And made stars

I remember poem

I remember sticking my hands and head out the car window as we sped down the highway at sunset, speakers resounding our favorite songs on cassette,

Walking around the city with balloons in hand- we had picked them for the other

I remember laying on the rooftop, and you showed me my star sign, and yours, and your favorite constellations and their stories,

And I remember your face when I gave you a strawberry plant that I grew just for you

I remember making our playlist, with all our favorite songs, and it was fun because you tried to add words to the titles to make them funny because

I remember “It’s Not a Fashion Statement, It’s A Deathwish, Mom” and “Bring Me to Life, Mom”

And I remember your anger when they called me that word.

I had to hold you back to keep you from hurting them.

You flat ironed my hair, and I remember dyeing yours neon green.

I remember slow dancing in our room, with lit scented candles to spotify playlists and McDonald’s ads.

I remember growing ivy on the staircase with you

I remember your smile

4 word sketch poem

Firstborn, whistle, moonlight, strings

The whistle of the first firework,

it screeches up into the dusk.

The strings it releases explode and crackle,

A chorus of gasps and Oohs and Ahs

As the firstborn child sneaks away, unnoticed.

It’s fine, that was their plan anyways.

Fireflies are twinkling, traffic is clogged and congested.

They round the corner, pacing fast but quietly, the way they learned in 5th grade.

The boots make it difficult, so they tiptoe on the narrow strip of grass that lays next to the sidewalk.

They’ve reached their destination: the pharmacy.

It's hard not to attract attention when you’re the only customer in the store.

A few minutes later, they leave, crinkly plastic bag in hand,

Nearly sprinting towards their family.

They’ve only been gone for five minutes, but

The fireworks and the fact that they’re normally quiet has kept their family from alarm.

They sneak back into the circle,

doling out candy to delighted brothers and sisters,

The parents have no idea.