#why put myself through that when I can wait to be released and go live with my grandmother

[makorragal-312]

Spencer is better than me because the moment I found out I had to go back to living with my cheating-ass dad, I’m staying my ass in prison till my release date and then finding a hotel. 

[guiltydiaries]

Dynamic Discussions - Mike Ross/Reader

Implied Mike/Harvey, Harvey/Reader, Mike/Harvey/Reader

One of my headcanons brought to life. Completely inspired by this scene ^ and the fact that there is not enough Mike Ross content. Reader works alongside Mike Ross helping Harvey on cases. There is a polyamorous tension and comfort between you all but nothing has happened. You all want to keep things professional, so you don’t acknowledge the tension. Mike is a brat and goads the reader into flirting (goading Harvey) on a night out.

“You just had to suggest I call the bartender Sir…” I shake my head at my idiot of a coworker.

“It’s a good thing!” Mike declares, leaning on the bar next to me, our elbows touching as we pretend to survey the room. We both know the two of us are only watching one man. “Harvey only ditches celebration cocktails early to teach us a “lesson” and he only leaves with a brunette when you’ve been too sexy for your own good.” The blonde pauses to smirk “I told you, he wants to be the only Sir in our lives. It’s not my fault you thought you could prove me wrong.”

I pretend to ignore Mike and his annoying encyclopedia memory as I watch Harvey kiss the fingertips of the woman he’s seducing. I roll my eyes and turn to glare at my best friend.

“This is why we aren’t supposed to talk about sex, rule breaker… You’re buying my next round.”

Halfway through my next gin and tonic Harvey wanders back over to close out his tab and remind us both of the new case we start tomorrow. His eyes are stern as he gives me a heated once over, and it looks like he might pop a vein when Mike chimes in with “Hope you enjoy the rest of your night, Mr. Specter.”

I can tell that Harvey wants to say more, that he is fighting urge to stay and banter with us. I want to melt into the floor as I watch Harvey stride off to escort the woman out of the bar. I know it’s wrong to want my boss so much, to want Mike and Harvey both as much as I do. The three of us have boundaries for a reason, lines that can’t be crossed. That doesn’t stop me from getting turned on at the thought of Harvey choosing a woman with my hair color because he can’t go home with me. I can’t help but think of calling him Sir now that Mike (the perpetual brat) has put that image in my head. I know my submissive ass would kneel for Harvey in a heartbeat, if I could. I know how hot it would be to see Mike get the punishment he always seems to be asking for. Wistfully, I find myself hoping Mike’s theory is right, that Harvey’s D/s energy is purposeful.

Coming back to the present, I shake my head and remember my reality tonight. Mike and I will heed the reminder of our early morning and go home alone. Again.

When I manage to turn around, the fresh drink waiting for me on the bar is a welcome sight. Mike has one of his own and we spend the next hour laughing and pretending that we aren’t repressed underlings for a man we both love. His hand brushes my thigh as I lean in to laugh at a joke and for a moment we are just two people flirting at a bar. We stay in that bubble as long as we can. I can see my sweet Mike drinking in the attention, he is cherishing the casual affection between us as much as I am. Nights like this always stop here, one drink and one train ride is all we allow ourselves. It doesn’t matter how brief, the release of not having to hide my attraction for a few hours is better than any hookup. As we say goodnight we linger in a hug before parting, we know the pull between us is inevitable but tonight is not the time. Soon.

[idkwhatever580]

Her pt. 2

Pairings: Natasha Romanoff x reader

Prompt: after y/n gets rescued what is in store in the next chapter of her life with Natasha?

Warnings: cursing

Pronouns: she/her

A/N: I’m super excited about this one. Make sure you read chapter one first so you have some insight on how nat and y/n met!!! I hope y’all like it :)))

Here’s part one :))) I’m working on a master list I swear -> https://www.tumblr.com/idkwhatever580/749750524015984640/her-pt-1

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Y/n’s pov

I cannot believe it’s been a whole year since I met Natasha.

She and the avengers immediately took me in and I found myself going over to the compound much more than I expected.

I still have my house in Long Island. But I never stay there really anymore. Ever since Natasha and I started dating I haven’t spent too much time there.

It only took three months for me to virtually move in with her. Although I do wish she’d come with me sometimes.

But I don’t really worry about that since one of the floors in the tower is my new soup kitchen. It’s open twenty four hours a day and there are at least 2-6 people working there at all times.

As promised Tony Stark and SHEILD helped me get my business up and running.

I make homes for the homeless. Sometimes they are bigger more communal homes and sometimes they are tiny one or two person homes.

My first two homes are side by side. They were for gran and pops. They were always my biggest supporters and still are.

My program has changed so many lives. There are so many people out there who just need a little bit of love.

Sometimes the homeless people will use the homes as a forever home but most often they get jobs. Become more financially stable and independent and then they will move out. It’s really great. Because I see so many people I’ve helped become something. Someone.

There are so many who have told me they thought they would never amount to anything. And a few of them have become very successful even as far as becoming a CEO.

I am incredibly proud of my work.

And honestly it’s so exciting to see what changes I can make every single day.

For example. Today is the release date of my nationwide program.

All over the country a program is being launched where homeless people can find shelter, rehabilitation centers, and other necessities for free so they can have a second chance at life. I am doing some interviews today.

Unfortunately Natasha isn’t here. She has a mission. I’m a little sad that she won’t be with me tonight as the program launches but the show must go on.

I check my watch and see it is time to leave for the opening ceremony and I go downstairs to find Happy.

I smile and say

“What’s up Happy! Are you ready?”

He smiles sadly and says

“Yes I am ready. But I must inform you that I am only your chauffeur tonight. Unfortunately I cannot be your plus one.”

I frown when he says this because he was supposed to fill in for Natasha and now I have nobody.

“Oh. Well. That’s okay!”

I smile and cover up my disappointment. He drives me to the red carpet and helps me out. I kiss his cheek accidentally leaving a lipstick stain and I say

“Thank you. Have a good night Happy.”

He usually goes home and I have a different driver drive me home.

I walk to the red carpet by myself and put on my best smile. I make it about halfway through the carpet and an arm snakes around me and this mystery person says

“Am I late?”

“Oh!”

I jump and put my hand to my chest and I look at my beautiful girlfriend with a huge smile on my face and I say

“Jesus! You scared me!”

My brain doesn’t even register that she’s back since I’m in the zone and then I do a double take and say

“Wait! What!?”

She giggles when I realize and I slap her chest and say

“I thought you were at a mission?!”

She chuckles and says.

“I got off early enough to make it. That’s why Happy isn’t here with you. I tried my best. But I couldn’t get the best suit”

She looks down at her suit and I look her up and down and say

“You look amazing baby. Perfect right here with me.”

I smile and give her a kiss. We always wear matching lipstick colors so that we can kiss and not get it messed up.

Then I put my hand on her chest and we keep taking pictures.

The rest of the night goes smoothly and I give a speech. I talk to a few people who have helped my journey and then we head home.

I get changed and wait in bed for Natasha. She takes a while so I complain

“Nattyyy”

She comes out of the bathroom and smiles and says

“Yes baby?”

I hold my arms out for her and pout

“I missed you”

She gets into bed with me and says

“I missed you too.”

Once we’re comfy she looks me in the eyes and says

“Goodnight my love. You have done such amazing things for so many people and I am so lucky to be yours.”

I smile and say

“I love you baby. Goodnight”

We kiss and drift off into a nice comfortable sleep.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A/N: guys this is so bad. It feels rushed and blah. Idk how I feel about it. I became so unmotivated and just wanted to move on to the next thing but I didn’t want to just leave it. 😭🔫

[stargirlposts]

El Malo

Chapter 3

I sat on my bed that night looking at the moon through my window. Tony is a good man and he loves me and maybe I can love him, but I have doubts. Fuck. I’m such a bad person.

It's been six weeks since Oscar got out. I've been keeping myself busy by working at my sister’s beauty store and avoiding Oscar. And I’m doing a pretty good job at avoiding him, if I do say so myself. I was finally walking home after I finished helping my sister with her store when I spotted Jamal, Ruby, and Monse.

“Monse!” I shouted her name with a smile and sped up to greet them.

“Hey, when did you get back?”

“I just got back today, hey do you know why Ruby and Jamal aren’t talking to Cesar, he tells you everything cause these shitheads won’t tell me anything” She walked next to me to look at Jamal and Ruby with an eye roll. Just when I was going to answer, we heard someone blasting their music and when we turned to look, it was the familiar red impala coming down the street.

Ruby shook his head, “We can’t tell you what Cesar said.”

“Fine, then I’ll ask myself”

She walked on the street and stopped right in front of the Impala, forcing Oscar to stop the car.

“Hey, you crazy!”

I turned to Jamal and Ruby.

“What did Cesar say?” I asked. I was curious to know why Monse was so upset and why they weren’t talking to him.

“Cesar said he hit it” I gasped and turned to look at Monse leaned over talking to Oscar.

“Jamal!” Ruby yelled and Jamal quickly covered his mouth with his hand. He turned to me”, look just don’t tell Monse”

“I won’t, but you know the truth always comes out, I’ll talk to-“

“Hey Y/N! Get in the car, I’ll take you home”

I turned to look at Oscar and crossed my arms.

“No, I’m perfectly fine with walking.”

Cesar turned to look at me with desperation in his eyes. I sighed and bid my goodbyes as I got in next to Cesar.

Oscar drove me to his house and asked me to stay for a while. But I declined and told him I was gonna pass to the bathroom and get some of my stuff, although I left out the second part. I was only gone for six weeks and the house is already a mess. Ugh, men. By the time I walked out, I saw Cesar sitting on the couch and Oscar sitting behind him on a crate, with Monse standing in front of him.

“We can go inside-“ Oscar cut him off by clearing his throat “, But uh if you wanna sit on my face, you gotta put that mouth on pause so I can concentrate”

All of the Santos laughed and he fist bumped Oscar. Poor Monse had the look of humiliation on her face.

“What the fuck? You put him up to this didn’t you!”

“Hey,” Oscar stood up and tried to get in my face “,don’t start shit.”

“Fuck you Oscar”

I was beyond pissed. How dare he try to intimidate me in front of his puto friends. I wanted to release some steam by hanging out with my friends but they were on the clock so that was a no and my mom went to visit family in Mexico, so I’m in a house all by myself . You must be wondering what happened to Tony. Let’s just say he could see I wasn’t Interested and he wasn’t mad. He told me he loved me and he’d be willing to wait for me when I realize Oscar ain’t shit.

I was watching tv in the living room when I heard movement in my room. I could feel my heart start racing. I sped tip-toed into the kitchen and grabbed a knife. I stood beside my closed bedroom door and waited for whoever was in there to come out. My heart sped as the door opened and I put the knife against the throat of the perpetrator. Only it wasn’t, it was Oscar. I let out a sigh of relief.

“What the fuck Oscar? You could’ve knocked on the door”

I walked to the kitchen with him following behind me and put the knife away.

“What are you doing here?”

“Came to talk.”

“ I don’t have anything to say to you’’

“Haven’t seen you with that guy”

“What’s it to you?” I asked as I leaned on the kitchen counter. I watched as he stepped closer to me.

“I failed you a thousand times, yet you’re still mine”

He walked closer so our chests were touching, he held my chin up gently forcing me to look up at him.

“He seemed sincere unlike my flaws, but I’m the bad guy you don’t stop loving. You’re like Cinderella and he’s the pitiful fool and even though I’m not Prince Charming, I’m still the love of your life”

My eyes started to water and I tried to look down but he wouldn’t let me.

“Oscar- please”

“I love you, Y/N”

I felt a tear run down my face and Oscar leaned his forehead against mine touching my nose with his.

[vivisectedvitality]

"i don't believe in god, so you're the only one to whom i can pray"

cw: prior mcd, brief suicidal ideation

ghost sits in the front pew of a tiny catholic church in russia. his skin prickles underneath his gear, rifle sat next to him on the bench. he shouldnt be here. he shouldnt be sticking his neck out like this when theyre so close to catching makarov. practically at his front door price had said. or was it gaz. he cant remember very many small details right now.

the church has all the same fittings as the one they held johnny's service at. it's much less ornate though. he thinks johnny might have liked this one better. less frills, much simpler than the drawn out affair they'd had in glasgow. ghost sticks his hand in one of the pockets of his tac vest and figets with the warped bullet fragments in it.

his eyes are drawn to a statue to the side of the altar. its of a woman, eyes looking skyward. she's got swords encircling her, something like a halo over her head. he can't remember her name. something about wounds and sorrow. ghost scoffs, fist tightening in his pocket. the shards of metal dig into his palm.

there's a shift in the constant cloud cover outside, and a solitary beam of sunlight shines through a small window behind the altar. it filters perfectly through the stained glass, casting the pew ghost is on in muted reds and blues. he releases his grip on the metal pieces in his pocket and removes his hand from it, slumping in his seat. blessed sunshine. there's something he could worship. after all these weeks, either holed up inside or underground or living under steel grey skies he felt like some kind of prayer of his had been answered.

it gives him an idea. a bad one, but those seem to be the only kind he can come across these days.

ghost pulls off his gloves, one finger at a time, and sets them on the pew. he flexes his fingers and puts them together like he'd seen people do when they were in church, like he'd seen johnny's mother do after he'd told her that her boy would be coming home in a body bag. he shuffles forward and down until creaky knees make contact with creaky wood, and he waits for the words to come.

but they don't. he sits there for long minutes and nothing comes out. the small beam of sunlight dissappears back into the constant grey, leaving him in the half light of the abandoned church again. he drops down to sit on his calves. the backs of his shoes are digging into his ass and the edge of the pew is jabbing into his vest. he should get up. but he doesn't. he can't. if this is it, the end of makarov, what may be the end of ghost himself, he's going to get through to johnny one way or another, even if he has to sit here on his knees for hours to believe in his god.

another idea occurs to him. it's worse than the first. but he's sick of failing, so he tries anyway.

ghost reaches up and pulls his mask off, tossing it into the seat behind him. he regains his earlier posture, kneeling with his legs straight, hands clasped together, looking up through the window like the statue was.

simon opens his mouth. closes it again. shuts his eyes.

"johnny."

his voice is rough with disuse, breaking on the word. he clears his throat, purses his lips. starts again.

"johnny. dunno if you can hear me. all i know you're just dust in the wind now."

he flexes his interlocked fingers, trying to soothe their urge to pull his mask back on.

"i can't pray for you, can't bring myself to. seems selfish, sure but its facts. cause if theres someone up there watchin' then why the fuck wasn't it me instead'a you. man like me ought to croak before a man like you. bloody fuckin' waste otherwise."

simon knocks his forehead to his knuckles and sighs.

"but now i guess. guess i'll trust you to do that. watch my six. always did johnny, always."

he squeezes his hands together.

"we're going after him, soap, no fuckin about this time. we'll get him. i'll get him for you."

his trigger finger twitches.

"help me get him for you. don't let me fall until he does. don't let me breathe my last until his goddamn skull's caved in. please."

part of the weight he's been carrying since that cold day in november slides off him.

"all the shit i do now is for you johnny. woulda left if price hadn't kept chasing the bastard. woulda gone to meet you off the side of that cliff. everything i do is for you now."

he thinks about the mountains of bodies they've gone through to get this close, the rivers of blood that have stained his shoes so badly he's replaced them twice in four months. he thinks about torture sessions that lasted days, men screaming for their mothers in the pitch blackness of underground cells.

he thinks of fights with price he had to be physically dragged away from, about gaz clocking him across the face after simon had said they didn't care their sergent was gone.

"we'll finish the job. whatever state we're in."

" 'n when i blow his brains out i'll think of you."

he blinks his eyes open to find the whole church bathed in sunlight.

[themultifandomgal]

From 2010- Before

2012

Part 21

3 Weeks Earlier

“I miss you” I say into the phone as I walk into the studio

“I miss you too. I’ll see you soon though” Alex replies

“I know” I sigh “how’s collage going?” I ask sitting down on the sofa

“It’s alright. I honestly have no clue what I want to do though once I leave”

“You could always come be a roadie” I joke making Alex laugh

“Don’t tempt me. How’s the song writing going?”

“It’s not. We have to write boyband love songs”

“But your not a boyband?” Alex sounds confused over the phone

“Oh I know, but we have an image for teenage girls and a few teen boys. Some times I regret my decision. If I knew it would be like this then…”

“Hey don’t think like that. Have you spoken to the others?”

“Not yet. I will, but they just seem to be having the time of their lives”

“What’s your contract say?”

“We have to release songs to SYCO for at least another 3 years”

“You can do this. I believe in you”

“Mornin’” Harry shouts walking into the studio

“I’ll let you go. I’ll see you soon ok?”

“Yeah”

“I love you”

“I love you too” I put the phone down and give Harry a small smile “hey. Where’s the others?”

“Gone to get snacks. You know I’m here for you, we all are”

“How much of that did you hear?”

“A fair bit. I wasn’t ease dropping on your conversation, but I just didn’t want to interrupt, sorry”

“No it’s ok”

“From now on you talk about issues that your dealing with ok? Your not going through this alone ok?”

“Thanks H. Why don’t we start writing while we wait for the others” I suggest getting a pen and note pad out of my bag.

1 Week Earlier

“What’s up Uncasvill!” Niall yells into his microphone and the fans all scream back “now we have a little secret. YN care to tell everyone”

“Do they deserve to know the secret? What do you think guys shall we tell you?” I ask then point my microphone to the crowed who all yell once again “ok ok” I hold my free hand in the air “shhhh ok. We may be working on album number 2” this causes everyone to scream again with excitement

“m’not sure tha’ they’re tha’excited YN”

“No me either Harry” I say shaking my head “let’s try this again shall we? Who’s excited!” I ask yelling causing everyone to scream “ok now with that announcement out of the way the next song were going to sing is Up All Night”

During the song Harry jumps on Louis back making them fall on to the floor which causes me to miss my cue. Thankfully the crowd sing along which makes it easier for me to jump back in.

48 Hours Earlier

“Shit” I grumble seeing all the flashing lights outside our hotel

“Hey your ok, we’ve got you” Niall says placing his arm over my shoulders

“I’ll go first ok?” Louis says looking at me. I give him a nod and the doors open. I walk behind Louis with Niall while Zayn, Liam and Harry are behind us

“Get back!” Paul shouts at the paparazzi

“YN have you and Alex broke up?”

“Harry are you dating Taylor?”

“Louis does Eleanor trust you and YN?”

“Zayn has Perrie come to any shows yet?”

It’s question after question, making my head feel fuzzy. Thankfully Niall doesn’t let go of me

“YN how good are the boys in bed?”

“YN look over here!”

“Turn this way!”

“Move!” I once again hear Paul say when I feel someone grab my arm. I turn to see who it is, but I’m meet with a camera in my face. Zayn is quick to pull the guy away while I’m ushered into our car. My breathing rises while there’s ringing in my ears. I close my eyes and focus on my breathing

“You good YN?” I hear Liam ask. I give him a little nod grateful I’m now in the safety of the car.

24 Hours Earlier

24 hours to go till Alex arrives, 24 hours and I’m in the arms of the man I love. I finish getting myself ready for the show when my dad comes over to me

“I think you need to speak to a doctor” he says

“I’m fine”

“No your not. You’ve been having these panic attacks for a few months now. Maybe you should stop performing”

“What!?” I yell facing my dad

“I don’t mean forever, but maybe just for now while you get all of this under control”

“Dad it’s just part of fame. I’ll have to get used to it”

“I’m just worried that something could tip you over the edge”

“Dad I promise I have it under control. How about this. We have just over a month left of tour, once it’s over I’ll speak to someone”

“Fine but you have one more panic attack and I’m taking you home”

“Deal”

“And don’t think I won’t ask the boys to tell me if you do” my phone then pings letting me know I have a text. I look down and see it’s off Alex

‘Can’t wait to see you tomorrow’

[riddles-n-games]

So, I wanted to make this as an appreciation post for the fandom. Looking at all the reveals we've gotten in the last few days and seeing how much the world of TIG has expanded so quickly, I've been getting a bit nostalgic.

When I joined this fandom, it was August of 2022, barely a month out from the release date of The Final Gambit, the finale of The Inheritance Games. I found out about TIG at a random bookstore on a road trip and I had immediate interest (the hot tub scene sold me so quick). I was also still somewhat new to Tumblr back then but I wanted to see what the hype was here.

Back then, we were still in the Averyjameson vs Averygrayson era even though I'd say things were cooling down a bit. But, that's not my point. The community was getting ready for this; there were chapter reveals, theories, and oh, it was awesome. I was so happy to be part of it. And some of the people who made it a lively place back then are still here, but unfortunately, some have gone quiet. @averysjameson, @guppyclato, @lesbianator3000, @margolovescoffeeandbooks, and @cherryschaos, thank you for making my days back then. I know you may have moved on, but I thank you for the contribution you made at the time.

The only thing I will not miss is the toxicity that Averyjameson and Averygrayson fans plagued this fandom with and divided us so much. We had a lot back then to still savor, why did we have to do that to sour the tag when this series had so much more to offer than just the romantic subplot? There was a mystery at large and so many other characters to love. We only seemed to agree on hating Emily and the old man. Moving on, let's never do that again and if there is another love triangle, let's try being more mature about it. I know we can. If Gray, Avery, and Jamie moved on, so can we.

When we were told of The Brothers Hawthorne back in October 2022 and given those first chapters for the new book, I was over the moon. We were going to finally see the POVs of two favorites; Grayson and Jameson. I was so excited to see from Jamie's perspective, to get a mystery set in London and for him to solve it with Avery; it was an Averyjameson dream. However, come the actual release of the book and I was honestly so disappointed. I'm not sure why it didn't hit the levels it should have but I already said my piece on that and while I still have some disdain for that story, I look fondly at the parts I did love. And funny enough, I told myself Grayson's story will just have to do only because I was feeling sour over Jameson's plot. But low and behold, I loved it! It was deep, funny, interesting, and held my attention as if I was in TIG all over again and it hit more high notes than Jameson's. I may attribute that to the familial connections we see displayed there but it felt more rewarding and even if JLB still had more for Grayson's development, that didn't mean Jameson had to suffer for it. However, I'm hoping that this story here was a fluke and I'm putting my best foot forward in believing that maybe reading Averyjameson through Avery's POV again in Games Untold will give back that familiar feeling I've been missing for two years. I never said I wouldn't try again.

Now, we've entered a new era and this is a third for me; The Grandest Game and Games Untold. During this period, I met @hathorneheiress, my fanfic bestie, and a lot of my current supporters have been with me since TBH. I thank you very much for sticking with me by liking, reblogging, and commenting on my posts. You make my day in the same way I assume my content makes yours. I haven't said that enough and I don't think it will ever be. I'm happy that we're all still here now and going into this new unknown with our theories, headcanons, new characters, and plots. I'm sure it will be a blast. Thank you for giving me that feeling again these last few days; it felt like being with Avery and the gang, running through the House, finding another clue, waiting in anticipation what it reveals.

I hope that this next series is everything we hope for it to be, a new start for Gray, a chance to bond with the new characters we met in The Brothers Hawthorne, and an opportunity to make it feel like the hay days of the first book. I hope that Games Untold lets us relish that feeling with the original cast, to relive the good old days, to meet up with some old friends we haven't seen in a while, and to have that final hurrah that leaves us on the highest of highs in the best way possible. Maybe it'll make it easier to say goodbye to the ways it used to be and embrace the new storytellers but of course, with the way JLB leaves us hanging with every story she gives, who is to say that'll be it?

Thank you to everyone who makes theories, headcanons, fanfics, fanart, and so many other things that leave us wanting more. Thank you to everyone who showers that content with support in the form of likes, comments, and reblogs. Thank you to everyone who has been here from the beginning, in the middle, and now. You all made this a special place. Thank you to everyone who made this community that way and continue to do so every day. I'm happy to be a small part of that. See you in the next post.

-Mystery Girl's Red String

[royal-songbird]

JUST FINISHED LISTENING TO THE NEW CRANE WIVES ALBUM. HOOOOOOLY SHIT. THAT WAS INCREDIBLE. time to ramble about each song because i can <3 lalalalala

(under a cut cause this got a little long)

Scars: Listened to this one the second it was officially released, so i've had some time to listen to it !!!and . ough. its so good. i love when the crane wives make angry songs <3 really REALLY happy that they've incorporated violin into their newer songs too. the subtle shriek halfway through, the buildup near the end....GRAH (and i know they did on past albums but tbh they did not include them Enough. i love the violin <3)

Bitter Medicine: another one that was released ahead of the full album! also very good. reminds me a lot of the queen of nothing, mainly because of "someone take my keys im in no shape for driving" vs "stop the car, i wanna get out". and the AH AH OH AH OH'S NEAR THE END. YES !!! THEYRE SO FUN TO SING ALONG WITH I LOVE THEM. and the instrumentals. GRAAAAAH !!! the electric guitar (?) at the end is AMAZING.

Higher Ground: right off the bat i loved the instruments. and then when they start singing? INCREDIBLE. the vocals for this one are so so so good. like im actually in love with them, especially the first "should i head for higher ground". and its also like. very upbeat and fun. it makes me want to run around and just get myself Moving somehow. AND THE SUBTLE STRINGS IN THE BACKGROUND AS THE SONG BUILDS UP!!! i love the plucking, it so. hrgahgrhahghr. and once again. THE VIOLIN. I LOVE THE VIOLIN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Predator: i came into this song expecting something similar to the hand that feeds, so it was MUCH different than i anticipated! and honestly, i love it so much?? the guitar...? whatever funky instrument thats all wobbly is. sounds so fun. and i love the vocals so much they scratch at my brain. THE CLAPPING TOO. ITS SO FUN. another one that makes me want to get up and run around or dance <3

Say It: i was excited for this one! my friend heard it live and absolutely loved it, so i'd heard a lot about it going in. its a lot calmer than i was expecting but ohhh its so good. "please dont leave me in the dark, praying for a wayward spark" augh. ough. gruahgrh. "IF YOU COULD WOULD YOU ERASE ME. ERADICATE ME FROM YOUR MIND." RAAAAAAHHHH.

Mad Dog: another song i heard good things about! i was expecting something high energy and BOY did it not disappoint. obsessed with the pace of the beginning vocals, they sound like so much fun to sing i cant wait to learn the lyrics. AND THEN. THE CHORUS!!! OHHHH. THE ECHOES OF RUNNING AND COMING. IM GONNA EXPLODE. THEY SCRATCH MY BRAIN SO WELL. and the funky instrument in the back that i think is maybe a guitar but i cant tell....its so good and funky and oh my god i love the crane wives. honestly, this is probably one of my favorites of the album. its so good. i need to tear something apart with my teeth

Arcturus Beaming: i heard this song live back when i went to their concert in april, and oh my GOD. genuinely this song changed me i think. it rearranged my atoms. it means so much to me i literally love this song, even if the instrumentals arent my favorite out of the rest of the album i cannot put it any lower than my absolute favorite. THERES MORE TO LIFE THAN SUFFERING!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Time Will Change You: and this song. right off the bat its INCREDIBLE. the steady beat in the back. the guitar. the vocals. and just . the general Vibes. AND THEN. AND THEN !!!! THE STRINGS. HOLY FUCKING SHIT THE STRINGSSS. THE SECOND I HEARD THEM I LOST MY MIND. they are SO pretty and THIS is exactly why i wanted the crane wives to use strings in their songs more. they include them SO well. AND AUGH. THE INSTRUMENTAL HALFWAY THROUGH....AND THE VOCALS BEHIND IT....AND AGAIN!!! THE STRINGS !!!! this is SUCH a pretty song and it blew me away the first time i listened to it

Black Hole Fantasy: i wasnt entirely sure what to expect going into this song so i was a bit surprised by the introduction- and then it just kept getting better. right off the bat it reminded me of arcturus beaming, and then the general story of the song.... just. the feeling of aching so desperately for a better life, but being afraid to take that first step because you dont want to face the risks that come with it..... i genuinely almost cried listening to it, especially as the song began to ramp up. the fantasy of taking that chance but still being afraid. AND THEN. AND THEN!!!!! "AND NOW SHES LAUGHING, AND ITS KILLING ME THAT I CANNOT SEE WHATS MAKING HER LAUGH FROM WHERE IM STANDING." AND THE SUBTLE BUILD UP OF STRINGS IN THE BACK AS THE SONG RAMPS UP FURTHER. AND YOU FINALLY TAKE THAT CHANCE, TAKE THAT FIRST STEP. AAUEUEUAGHHHH. GOD!!!!!!!!!!

Red Clay: going into this song, i was expecting something with the vibes of the icarus or keep you safe, and i wasnt disappointed!!! BUT BEFORE I COULD REALLY PROCESS THE BEGINNING, I GET COMPLETELY BLIND SIDED BY SOMEONE OTHER THAN EMILEE OR KATE SINGING. im not entirely sure who it is, my best guess is dan, but its so so good. something about red clay is so specifically nostalgic for me, and for it to play right after black hole fantasy just. completely destroyed me/pos this song is so so pretty. i love it so much.

River Rushing: AND IMMEDIATELY IM HOOKED. again, i expected something high energy/upbeat like sleeping giants- and while its not the exact same, its similar, and i LOVE IT. the vocals are probably my favorite part, especially the backing vocals. BUT OH MY GOD THOSE HIGH NOTES. THEYRE SO GOOD. a VERY strong ending for the album, which i absolutely adored

and thats every song!!!! god i love the crane wives. im going to listen to this album on loop until each song is burned into my brain okay bye

[xenisstrange]

i don't think anyone outside of this fandom will ever understand what this game has done for me

i was eleven years old lying in my bed with my ipad mini and a pair of earbuds. it was around midnight, way past my bedtime at that age.

i scrolled through my youtube home page and came across a video titled something along the lines of "I CAN TIME TRAVEL???" and started watching.

the gameplay opened with the scene of a girl staring at a massive tornado. and then she woke up in photography class. and then she figured out she could rewind time.

and i was hooked.

then came the bathroom scene. the moment nathan shot chloe, i exited youtube. i was too shocked and stunned to continue. so i put my ipad away and tried to go to bed.

that lasted for less than five minutes.

too curious as to what would happen next, i grabbed my ipad and found the video again.

once i was past the initial shock of what had happened, i found myself falling in love with the art style. i fell in love with the music. i fell in love with the concept, the characters, the universe.

i remember thinking chloe was so cool. i remember wishing i could have a clothing style just like hers.

i remember wishing i had a place like the junkyard where i could escape to.

and i remember relating to max. she's artistic and shy. just like i was.

just like i am.

and then i finished watching episode one. i had to wait two months to see what would happen in episode two. and whenever a new episode did come out, it was always the first thing i watched when i came home from school.

it was like i saw myself in the characters.

kate's rooftop scene broke me. and in coming years, i would relate to her depression far more than i ever realized i would at eleven years old.

chloe's anger stunned me. i didn't realize why i felt so connected to the intensity of it then, but knowing what i was to experience in my teenage years, it now makes sense.

max's sensitivity made me feel so seen. and she was just as creative as i wished to be. i bought an analog camera when i was fifteen just because i wanted to take polaroids like her.

i wanted to be in the world of life is strange. i wanted to experience true friendship (and more) like what max and chloe had because up until then, i felt so alone.

this game made me feel understood. this game made me feel like i could make my life an adventure. this game gave me hope for the future.

i finally played the game myself when i was thirteen. it was the second game ever in my steam account.

but throughout high school, i forgot about the game for a bit, only getting re-obsessed for a short while when before the storm came out. i finally played life is strange 2 in the summer of 2020, when i rediscovered life is strange during covid lockdown. and then came true colors. i played that one the day it got released.

even though the new games are amazing, and the characters' relatability is just as strong, the original life is strange will forever hold a special place in my heart. in a way, it formed who i am as a person today. just ask anyone who was in my life when i started saying "hella" in every sentence.

a few days after i turned eighteen, i realized "i am the age of the characters in life is strange."

and that was crazy to me.

i had grown up with these characters, wondering if my life would ever be as interesting or as venturesome as theirs. and now i was the same age as them.

and then i became older than them. and my life has most definitely not been the adventure i'd hoped for.

but i've come to accept this, as max and chloe are video game characters, and i live in the real world.

but that's why i hold the first life is strange game in such a special place in my heart. these characters were there for me when real people weren't.

this game taught me the difference in morals and beliefs, because what one person thinks is wrong might be right to someone else. this game taught me to be kind to others, to show compassion and empathy, because you never know what someone is going through.

this game taught me not to be afraid to love.

because if i were to be chloe, then someday my max would make a return.

[couriersgraveyard]

I had started this awhile ago, but I thought I could share this short piece between Robin and my PC! o(〃＾▽＾〃)o

I just couldn't stop thinking about them when listening to "Fallen Star" by The Neighborhood (which is pretty accurate for how my PC sees Robin) so I wanted to write a small glimpse into their relationship!

Writing below the cut if anyone is interested

(✌ﾟ∀ﾟ):

You shuffle across the floors of the orphanage, searching for something. Perhaps for someone. You're honestly not sure what you're doing or more importantly what you should be doing at that moment. All you can do is continue to wander aimlessly through the halls, one of your feet dragging against the rotten, worn-out panels beneath you.

It hurts.

But you have to ignore it.

After some time of mindless searching, you consider stopping. To instead go to a room you're supposed to call your own and crawl into a bed that held the hopes, dreams, and fears of the person, the children, that once laid there. You desperately need the sleep after all. But something holds you back, so you wait.

You wait until you hear a sweet, familar voice call out to you. You turn to the source, it's Robin. Her cheery expression quickly shifts to one of concern as she makes her way over to you. You don't understand why.

"What happened?? Are you okay?"

One of her hands grazes your cheek and you wince. Right, you understand now. You had an.....altercation. Things got too out of hand; And now you're a mess. More of a mess than usual that is.

Robin frantically looks you over, her brow furrowing as she looks over your injuries. "There's so much blood I- We need to take you to the hospital w-"

You cut her off, grasping the hands inspecting you, " It's fine, I mean its not all mine"

"That doesn't make it better! Look at your nose, your foot! We need to-"

"Robin. I'll live. I don't need a hospital, I need y- I want-" you take a moment to compose yourself, releasing your grip on her "I'll be fine, okay? I can just patch myself up."

Robin stares at you for a moment, an unreadable expression spreading across her face. Before you can utter another word she wraps your arm around her shoulder and drags you along with her.

"So can I."

✧𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸✧

You hate her.

No, not her. You couldn't possibly bring yourself to hate her.

Not when she cleans the dried blood off your face, her eyes lingering on your lips as she uses her thumbs to wipe off the extra moisture left on them from the wet cloth. Or when she carefully wraps up your ankle, being as gentle as she was when she bandaged your other injuries.

You don't hate her.

You hate these feelings for her. Feelings that you know you can't call your own.

Feelings you're glad she doesn't return.

✧𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸°•𓉸✧

"Done!" Robin chirped, puffing out her chest slightly as she admires her work.

"Thank you, Robin.......but this wasn't necessary. I could have done it myself-"

She cuts you off, turning her gaze to your own, "I know but I wanted to! you took care of me when I needed you most! So it's only fair that I return the favor! "

You know it's a lie, you were not there when she needed you most. You were just there to clean up the broken shards of a vase that you failed to catch. Not much of surprise from someone like you.

But you don't argue with her, instead turning your gaze away from her. It hurts to stare at the edges of the pieces of glass that you couldn't perfectly put back together. She'll never be exactly how she once was. And neither will you.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Robin's hand grasping your own. "I just want to be useful to you too. You shouldn't be the one who has to deal with everything on your own."

You glance at her. "And honestly I like taking care of you. It's just like old times, remember?" She adds with that smile on her face that you adore oh so much.

All you can bring yourself to do is hum in agreement, unable to tell her the truth, as you feel your eyelids droop.

Robin takes note, packing up the first aid kit she brought before slipping out of the bed.

"I'll let you get some rest," Robin whispers, bringing you into a hug "Goodnight."

When she pulls away you subconsciously reach out to her. She looks at you expectedly.

You open your mouth, a question on the cusp of your lips.

But you quickly bite down, refusing to let it spill.

".... Goodnight, Robin."

She smiles, giving you a kiss on your bruised cheek. You watch her figure exit the doorway, closing it behind her.

Leaving you all by yourself in "your" room.

Alone.

Just like the beginning of your story.

[circledotdestroy]

Retrospective - Chapter 2: The Insult of Injury

Pairing: Shouta Aizawa x F! Pro-Hero! Reader (slow burn)

Main Summary: After 12 years, you, Pro-Hero Strife, has to return to Japan. Your objective: discreetly track down and capture Akari Kaneko, a.k.a. Pro-Hero Aegis— your old classmate who attacked you during her visit in America. In the aftermath of All Might losing his power, however, using UA resources has its complications. The most unexpected complication being Aizawa, someone you never expected to see again. Why does your past have to come back to haunt you now? Masterlist First chapter Next Chapter Word Count: 5585

A/N: Sorry it took so long for me to post. While I was gone I got my first big girl job and my beta reader has been having trouble with her computer, so I had to obsess over the prose by myself. In the end, i had to split my planned second chapter in two because it was almost 10k, so that's fun. Also, I uploaded this fic to Ao3 and I added the tag "Autistic Shouta Aizawa" and I'm the first one to tag that in an X Reader Fic??? I thought it was a popular headcanon lol Anyway, you've waited long enough. I hope you enjoy!

Head hung over porcelain, gloved hands gripped onto the sink. A giant hammer banged against your skull from the inside leaving sparks in its wake. Neurons like shooting stars lived behind your eyes. “Sparks…” You gulped back nausea. 

Murky puddles of colors blurred together. Light blue stalls behind you, slightly opened, but empty. A massive void leered through the mirror with slivers of red. Hunched, panting over the counter. Burning wounds spreading out, conquering the rest of your cold skin. Not so different from the last time you needed a healing quirk. Cold, clammy, and disgustingly pitiful in one of the dark backrooms of your agency–because doing paperwork was better than being by your lonesome with nothing. The main difference this time around was the mortification that came with breaking down in a high school bathroom.  

You were going to smack Akari for what she put you through.

The thought stabilized your shaky breath. You straightened your body, your hands still grasping the counter. The pressure released from the stab wound. It steadied you and you were grateful.

The last thing you needed to add on this little business trip was a reunion with Recovery Girl. She had first-hand encounters of your nonsense. Dealing with the aftermath of you being a menace to society— or “younger” if someone wanted to be polite—more times then you can count. You went to her office a lot–sometimes for yourself. Sometimes. It didn’t matter if you started more “advanced” in your class, you weren’t immune to scraps, bruises, or the occasional slip up during training. Other times, it was for other classmates. Some you sent her way after battle trials, but other times you popped in to take supplies then ran out.

One time you asked when she was going to retire, she said whatever the Japanese equivalent was for “until I croak”. That was after she threatened you with her cane, but you laughed it off like the cocky child you were. You thought even if she could land a hit, it wouldn’t hurt that bad. After all this time, it’d be disappointing to tell her you got in a fight and lost at your big age. Maybe she’ll try hitting you with her cane again, you thought. She’d have an easier time now.

But no. Dealing with the effects of one healing quirk was enough. The risks of getting her involved drowsiness at best, or possible death before the investigation gets shot down at worst. Investigation aside, it’s becoming apparent your healing process isn’t where it’s supposed to be. The itches, the burning… no one is in this bathroom with you, but you’re burning beneath cold skin. Someone who sees you on the street can say: “It’s only been two days! Walking around, catching a flight, that’s a MIRACLE for only two days!” 

However, that’s the problem. It’s already been two days. With the healing quirk, you’re supposed to be at least 75%, but you’re not pushing fifty. 

Removing your hands from the sink, you brought them to your sides. It was hard to know where one pain starts and where the other ends. Everything burns and your body is compelling you to turn around and throw up nothing.  You flexed shaking fingers into fists. Your stomach was turning inward. It’s been a while since you ate. Perhaps you should’ve brought something on your way here. Even if it was stopping at a konbini and picking up one of those stupid-ass nutrition cookies Aizawa used to eat for lunch every day of the week. You swallowed, shaking your head. Food can wait. You can wait three hours. If you eat, you’re going to stay nauseous and dizzy anyway… unless you do something about it.

With a shaking breath, you glanced over your shoulder then at the door. There was no charge down your spine, so no people were close by either. You flexed your hands again, eyes closed, counting your fingers rhythmically. The sparks died down. The pain became more discernible. Abdomen still fresh and oven-hot. Knuckles chaffed, raw, and bruised. Your legs: thighs sore from jumping during the mission, your left knee ached, and the top side of your right foot was especially tender. Your shoulders, your back, behind your head. 

You kept the rhythm until your lungs demanded release. When you exhaled, the pain dwindled. Not completely. Warmth still lied below your skin, at a near simmer. When you opened your eyes though, the blacks and reds weren’t blurred together. They were a clear, albeit crooked mess. You fixed the red arm guards first. When that was done, you had enough energy to fix the rest of your uniform. 

Daring to move around, you inspected your fixed outfit further. When it passed inspection, you grabbed your briefcase below the paper towel dispenser to your right. Hitching your breath, you reached for the black handle. Your right leg carried all the weight to avoid setting off a potential mine-field of injury. At first contact, you swung the case on top of the sink then opened it. There were many compartments at the top, one housed a phone the boss gave you, since your old one was collateral damage. There were few numbers inside the cell. Only the ones you thought were most important to include. One of them was for the agency medic, which you cleverly titled as “Medic” to make sure you don’t call more than necessary. 

This development with his quirk, unfortunately, was necessary. Rocks filled your stomach. Your mouth feels like you ate gravel. You can hear his reaction to telling him his ‘all powerful quirk’ wasn’t helping like a future sense. He’d make the concussion he diagnosed you with worse if you called.

Wanting to grip the phone harder, you clenched your teeth. This whole thing was stupid. You could’ve kept your guard up. You could’ve stood up, knife be damned, and run after Akari. Stopped her. Asked her what the hell she was talking about— All these choices you could’ve made–all those years of training, and you still got a concussion. Seven minutes passed when you finished typing your little update. It was better to give him a heads up now. It helps against accusations of Akari annihilating your brain cells at the fight.

The next person you contacted was Athena, your Support Expert. It hasn’t been long, but you needed an update on something. Even if it was just your uniform and equipment. 

The message itself was quick. Though, you couldn’t help following up by asking if she knew anything about one of the crime scenes. You then thanked her, again. Heaven knows you keep her busy when you need new equipment. During the past two years alone, you’ve asked a lot from her. Whether you needed a new arm guard, gauntlet, or a whole new uniform, she came through every time. It’s hard to get an SE who specializes specifically in power-based quirks. From what you’ve experienced, and heard from other heroes, most SEs don’t appreciate their designs getting decimated. Their creations are children in their eyes. Athena’s creations aren’t as precious in her eyes, by comparison. She has a spreadsheet dedicated to how long until the creations get busted. Keeping up with these records is her research. It changed constantly, telling her what works and when she needs to switch things up. 

You should bring her something when all this is over, you thought. She deserved something nice. Something that says “I’m sorry for wrecking all the support items you made me during my missions, you’re the best SE ever!”

The phone went back inside of its compartment, next to the pouch where five hologram disks were held. A surge of panic came through you. Thinking of the horrific scenario of traveling all this way and forgetting essential items for your visit today. You tore open the pouch. Heart in your ears and heat crawling out your back. Two disks were labeled, three were not. “CS1” and “CS2” were in the pouch. Good. You glanced at the other objects in the case, double checking everything was there before you met up with the principal. Folders, notebooks, paperwork, until relief washed over you in a cool wave. Closing the briefcase, running your hand across the leather. Slowing down to trace the broken heart emblem, similar to the one on your breastplate.

Your power won’t get rid of the hammers in your skull, or the itch around stitch wire, but the thick material will prevent you from scratching. Plus, no one else would know about the other bumps and bruises beneath. 

You got this.

Leaving the bathroom, you pulled out Hizashi’s instructions one more time. They were less blurry and a bit easier to understand. You may actually have a chance to get out of the maze disguised as your alma mater. Ironically enough, before you could turn the corner, a white rat-bear-dog shorter than a yard-stick— wearing a black vest, blocky, yellow shoes, and had a gangster scar across his eye—came around. “There you are! It really has been a long time,” he greeted, like you’ve seen him before. He didn’t give you time to respond to him, he just explained how he waited at the meeting spot until it occurred to him how long it’s been since you were a student. The principal also made many changes since the time you graduated, which he insisted on showing you. This welcoming gesture forced you to tail him around the floor, instead of simply going to the meeting spot. You didn’t like the idea of walking around, not with that flare up earlier. You were still abnormally sore. But he can’t know that. You squared your shoulders, nodded your head, and quietly marched on.

There weren’t many rooms to make note of. Most of them were regular classrooms. You already saw where the current classroom for 1-A was before you ran into Aizawa. Apparently your old classroom is being used for one of the first year general education courses. The principal asked if you’d like to look inside. You declined the offer politely. At the end of the day, it was just a room. Another room with desks, windows, and a chalkboard in the front. What more did you need to see? You didn’t explain that last part, obviously, and the principal went on talking about other changes around the school.

At one point, he interrupted himself, stopping in front of one of the other doors. This time he didn’t ask you before opening it. “And here is my office.” The principal revealed a room with a giant window behind a desk. The orange light from the rising sun shone through the window casting deep shadows on the office furniture. If you stepped closer, you’d see everything outside the window. The brightness made you queasy. You opted to focus on the gray couch instead. “It looks a little different compared to the last conversation we had here,” he commented.

‘Last conversation,’ you wondered. Then it hit you.

This principal wasn’t new.

 Your principal never left UA. How you forgot your principal having a gangster-scar, you weren’t sure. There was no one like him. Absolutely no one that you’ve met. 

Muffled words and a shadow in front of a stark blue window came to mind. Paws holding stacks of paper, hitting them against the desk to straighten them out. Were you supposed to add on to what he said? Were you supposed to apologize? He didn’t look unhappy.

But you could be wrong. Would it be a surprise if this was an act? Taking you on this walk so you’d waste your time telling him everything? You looked to the right and left side of the hallway. If the resources weren’t valuable then you’d walk yourself out first. 

The principal didn’t follow up his statement with anything about the past or the future. He closed the door to his voice and rambled his way to nothing. He probably wanted to get a reaction out of you, but you were too confused to give him one. 

After a while, the stitches got tighter. And tighter. And your legs were becoming sore. Of course, you clenched your jaw to keep quiet. If he caught on, he’ll send you to Recovery Girl then bye-bye. She hits you with her cane and Nezu could press a button to eject you from the building.

Honestly, where was Hizashi? You knew he was supposed to be busy with work last night, but he said he’d be here for the meeting. It was supposed to start soon and you don’t want to be in a room alone with a passive-aggressive rat-bear-principal. Maybe he was telling Nemuri you were in town. 

Or maybe he would try to find Shouta and they could all be talking right now! Aizawa would tell him about you leaving him in the hallway, saying you were rude, demanding to know what’s going on. Aizawa was pushy enough. Hizashi would tell him about how you called him, hurt and asking for help. Despite Hizashi’s best intentions, Aizawa could use this information to raise doubt against you in the meeting. Get rid of you before you become a problem, his problem. 

You needed to find Hizashi before that could happen.

As luck would have it, the tour was coming to an end. The last stop led to a blond man leaning against a door down the hall with his arms crossed. A blond man with a punk rock style and a speaker around his neck. A blond that bounced his knee impatiently because he couldn’t bear standing still. 

Hizashi!

His head snapped in your direction. He, like a ray of sunshine, grinned ear to ear. “And look here, folks!” Hizashi rushed toward you, “coming out of the cage, ready for her GRAND COMEBACK–” you gripped your briefcase tighter, your eyes wide and almost bouncing, expecting impact. Hizashi pivoted around you, putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s the Queen of Terror, Pro-Hero STRIFE!”

It’s been over five years since you’ve seen him in person, longer since he’s called you by your hero name. You beamed, he was here. In the same room, not across the world. You thought of hugging him, but stopped when you remembered your old principal was still here.

Hizashi moved closer, leaning into your face without such reservations. The amber reflection of your uniform was in his sunglasses. His hand dragged across your shoulder where the raised mending peaked. He looked toward the principal with his hand on the side of his mouth, like he was trying to tell you a secret. “I was waiting forever,” he fake-scolded, loud enough for the third party to hear.

Glancing at the principal, you saw he was watching the two of you. He had a smile on his face, but his eyes were blank. You stepped out of Hizashi’s grasp, standing properly. “I had trouble with the directions.”

“What? Getting rusty after being away for so long?” Heat rose to your ears. Of course you were going to be rusty. Did he really have to tease you about it now? “She really knows how to keep her fans at the edge of their seat,” he said to the principal casually, like he wasn’t Hizashi’s boss.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” the principal responded, making you aware of the side eye you were giving to your old friend. “I was giving Strife a tour of this floor. After all, I’m proud of the changes I made to UA since your graduating class. I couldn’t resist showing off to one of my former students. Strife has certainly grown from that child I remember.”

Hizashi agreed with your old principle with a joke. “I hope that’s a good thing.” But you know there’s no good way to interpret the statement. Not with what he said when he showed you his office. Who brings up a time where they had to talk with you in a GOOD way? It’s like when your parents brought up how one of your dad’s coworkers caught you sneaking a cookie from the agency's break room when you were supposed to stick to a meal plan. Like, “oh, we sure hope you have better impulse control compared to when you were eight, even if you do, we’re going to reference this story over and over again so you never forget your moral failure!” He’s wearing yellow sneakers with formal wear, why is he passive-aggressive!

The conversation didn’t go further, thankfully. “There is time before the meeting, I’m going to set up. Feel free to catch up here in the meantime,” said the principal. You both thanked him as he went into the room. The nausea came back at the sight of the wooden swirls closing, your heart was starting to pound. After all, maybe he was planning to air it out with an audience, you couldn’t know for sure with his emotionless eyes.

“Did you really not have nicer clothes,” Hizashi asked, breaking you out of your trance. He was loud enough for the whole building to hear.

Your nose scrunched. “The damage wasn’t THAT bad…”

Hizashi shook his head. “I’m not talking about the damage. Last time I saw you, there was more…” Hizashi held his hand out, waving it toward your body. He went through a jumble of words before he decided on one. “Color.”

The last time he saw you in person, you were twenty-four and in-between agencies again. He was celebrating the first anniversary of his show being picked up for a radio channel. After celebrating the anniversary, he took a short vacation out of the country. It was the first time he was allowed since his career started. When Hizashi finally arrived in the States, you wore a uniform. It had less hard armor and was more red. Red breast plate with your black broken-heart emblem, which resembled that old Pac-Man arcade game. Gauntlets with red finger and knuckle pieces and armguards to contrast the black base of the gloves. Some other details like the center of your knee and elbow pads, the tips of your boots, your utility belt, and other lines and trims followed,

Vibrant color bounced off the void background. In comparison, your current outfit was– 

“You look like a common mall goth.” You tilt your head at him. Before you can say anything about calling you “common”, he continued. “Actually it’s worse!” Hizashi stepped closer to put his hands on your shoulders, pressing into the raised mark on the left. He leaned closer to your ear–was he always this touchy? He whispered, “you look emo.”

You punished him back, somewhat gently. “Hizashi, what the hell,” you said in English. Why was he making you worried over nothing! And calling you emo…

He laughed, wagging his finger at you like you were some brat. “Nuh uh uh. It’s Mic. We’re professionals and we’re working.”

“What do you mean ‘professionals’? What was professional about that!”

“I’m a radio host too, I have to play it to the crowd!”

You scanned the halls. “Where!” No one was here! A thud echoed across the empty hallway. In your confusion, you accidentally threw your briefcase across the hall. You stupidly remember the rule ‘no yelling in the hall!’ rule as black leather slid across the purple floor. Oops… You sigh as the briefcase spins to a stop.

Mic continued laughing. You grumbled, giving him your back as you approached the briefcase. To think, you considered hugging him earlier. The man walked behind you. “Don’t be so stiff!” You stared at the briefcase, almost rolling your eyes, he had no idea. You pondered how you were going to pick it up. If you did it the same way as you did in the bathroom, it would look suspicious. And dorky. 

His eyes were on you, you could feel it. If you waited too long then Mic would volunteer to get it for you. That would make him ask questions though. “Right,” you broke the silence before he could. You squatted with bated breath to pick up the briefcase. Your knee almost popped and you wanted to tear into the wound, but you weren’t going to tell Mic that. Not now, at least. 

Somewhere more private. AFTER you were sure he wouldn’t talk to Aizawa about anything. But first, you’d need to say you met him earlier and it didn’t go well. You can save Mic the drama, not going into specifics. Other than that, what’s one more thing to the pile? He’s in the dark about Akari, for now. He didn’t need to know Akari was the reason why you called him from your medic’s phone the other day, right this minute. You’ll have to go over everything in the meeting anyway, so why waste time?

“I would’ve gotten that,” said Mic.

“But you didn’t.” You shot back, harsher than you meant to. “It’s fine. I forgive you,” you stated with a pouty lip. You hoped the joke would mitigate the unintended force of your words. Mic probably didn’t notice, or he thought it was simply the set up to the punchline. “What have you been up to?”

Mic gave you an elaborate update on the past few weeks. His summer was busy since the Sports Festival. As usual, he was booked out when it came to the radio host and DJ gigs during the beginning of summer break. He told you all positive things. Dancing around All Might’s retirement as Number 1 Hero. You imagined he’d describe it as a certified downer if you asked. “...and our first years are about to go for their license!” Mic posed his hands in the rock and roll gesture.

“Wow, already? We had to wait until second year.”

“Because of all the villain attacks. It was decided it’d be better for the students to protect themselves without waiting for a hero’s permission.” There were no bells or whistles attached to the explanation. His hand gestures were minimal as well. While the idea of first years becoming skilled enough to get their license at a young age was impressive, there was no argument the circumstances weren’t ideal. First years shouldn’t have to deal with villains yet, but they have multiple times. Even in America, the youngest an applicant had to be was 17 to get their license. One of the perks of going to UA was being able to expedite the process and get your license when you were 16. You couldn’t imagine letting 15 year olds take the test in America. ”If you’ve watched the Sports Festival, then you know they’ll CRUSH it!” He punctuated the statement with his signature “YEAH!”, putting his hands in the air for extra dazzle. 

A beat passed and he broke his pose, asking if you watched the Sports Festival. The question wasn’t as pumped compared to his previous statement. Guilt struck you. Another month’s gone by and you still haven’t watched your friends on International Television. “It’s okay if you didn’t!” He responded, obviously concerned.

“No, no, I’m sorry. I should’ve watched it by now. Work’s been crazy for months. I had to cancel TV because it was wasting money.”

Mic shrugged, with a relaxed expression on his face. “Don’t worry about it! I’m sure I can give you the highlight reel while you're in town. But seriously, you had to cancel TV? You need to give it a rest!” 

“No, you have four jobs. I have no excuse–”

“Details!” Mic brushed off your response with his hand. “Y’know…” Mic’s hand went to his face to rub his chin. “You could help out with the first years with the exam. If you have time for it, it could be another paycheck and you can hang out with me,” he finished like you were a kid motivated by cookies.

You raised your eyebrow and shifted your weight to your back leg. “First you say “give it a rest” and now you want to give me more work?” He posed glamorously then switched to another with that somewhat implied you giving him a high-five, but it didn’t look quite right. “Not everyone can multitask like you, Mic.”

“I’m just saying you have the experience. You judged the licensing exams a crazy amount of times—and you mentored young heroes before.”

 “I didn’t do any judging this year, and there’s a difference between the American licensing exam and the one here. Also, those heroes already graduated from their program, and I only helped them because I had to. I’m not a good mentor, and, from what you said, I’m sure whoever’s teaching the first years are doing fine on their own.”

Mic paused with his mouth slightly open. His teeth clenched. “About that–”

A colorful blur caught the corner of your eye, but it was too late. A massive weight slammed into your body. The briefcase flew from your hand. What the hell! Your throat squeezed, choking down any sound you could’ve made. First there was shock. Then fire. Then pain. Every. Single. Type. 

Everything burned and your bones rattled you from the inside. You had to get this off! You wrapped your arms around, ready to pick up and throw it down the next floor. 

Your shoulder shrieked back at the embrace, your legs weren’t fairing with the shift either. In this split-second processing of your senses, it was apparent the weight was particularly squishy in certain places. It had purple hair as well, and she was absolutely thrilled to see you.

Your eyes widened. You lifted Nemuri, having stopped midway from slamming her to the ground. Her stomach was at your eye-level as she laughed with joy. That was good, you set her down., her heels clicking on the floor. You could’ve really hurt her. “--didn’t tell me you were coming to town–got you at the airport! Look at YOU!” The squishiness against your body left, replaced by an ecstatic Nemuri squeezing your face. Fingers pressed your cheeks enough to make your lips puff out. You tried to respond to Nemuri, but you might as well have your mouth full of cookies. The questions kept coming. After a bunch of non-answers, Nemuri took her hands off. Of course it was sore, but it was nothing like the rest of you. Unlike with Mic, you KNEW Nemuri was this touchy. This happened so many times a single memory became a cluster of events. 

She turned out of your hold, pointing at Mic aggressively. “Did you know our friend was coming here and NOT tell ME!” 

The scene was soon drowned out by your beating heart. Mic’s sunglasses slipped down his nose revealing a panicked expression toward Nemuri. He held out your briefcase to shield himself from the heat of the backlash. He was talking fast, explaining himself. You pressed your lips tightly in contrast. If they weren’t then you’d pant like you did earlier. 

Nausea arrived once again like a recurring nightmare. Placing your hand over the stitches to push through the thick material did nothing. As predicted, the pain couldn’t be snuffed out. Keeping your face neutral was an uphill battle between scalding heat and pure annoyance.

Screeching thoughts scolded you to ‘stop scratching!’

Then the surge came.

Mic and Midnight were focused on each other. One was mad, one was somewhat scared. It gave you something to work with. Your breath deepened as you flexed your palm against your uniform. Once again the pain separated and simmered down. The only agony on the surface was the itchiness of your wound. It wasn’t perfect. You just had to bear with it—the healing process. 

And watch out for any other attacks from your friends.

The hand on your abdomen balled into a fist. An invisible knife stabbed back inside the wound. Hopefully, the pressure could substitute the need to claw at your skin until your insides spilled into a puddle on the floor. 

Before you got comfortable, something to your left burned through you. Not from a wound, or your quirk. Someone watched you down the corridor. Turning your head, you lowered the invisible knife.

“Aizawa,” Mic called out to him, but didn’t get a response. Aizawa’s attention was on you. Did he see what you did? There was no way he saw the whole situation, you thought. Just when you shanked yourself with the imaginary shiv. Even if he brought it up, so what? It was weird, not illegal. “Look who’s here, isn’t this exciting!” Mic continued. The way Aizawa kept staring you down made it clear he was expecting you to flinch. Maybe you weren’t doing something illegal just now, but he can say you stormed off from him. Which is worse in this context. A lot worse. 

Aizawa tucked a blue file folder he was looking over into his arm with the others. “We saw each other earlier,” he responded coldly. He wasn’t excited to see you. Not today. Not ever. You stood your ground, waiting for him to tell them you walked out on him again, but it never came. He moved past, preferring not to be in the same room with you more than he had to.

“That’s it! C’mon don’t be like that! How often do you get to see an old buddy?”

“Just stay for a minute!”

He continued on his path, not responding to any of their pleas until he reached the door handle. “The meeting is starting soon. Don’t block the door.” He went inside, the door clicking shut behind him with an echo.

“Harsh…” Mic said.

Midnight turned to you. “I thought he’d be happier,” she said wistfully. You don’t blame her for hoping.

You shrugged, lifting your hands. ‘It is what it is,’ you thought, not quite remembering a good translation.

Midnight hummed. Mic moved on from the initial shock, opting to check out the detailing on your briefcase. No follow up questions from either of them. Throughout the years, there was never a time either of them mentioned Aizawa being their coworker. Not that you should care. They didn’t have to tell you anything about what he was up to. If he wanted you to know he could’ve told you himself. Whatever he did was none of your business, so why would they tell you?

Maybe they should’ve. It certainly would’ve avoided this mess. Although, the thought didn’t cross Mic’s mind. He probably heard the muffled yells of the medic for you to give his phone back and dived in with no questions. No hesitation. 

Nonetheless, he could’ve warned you about Aizawa in the email he sent you after. Did he think you wouldn't come back if you knew ahead of time—if you knew Aizawa would be here? Probably not, but damn, dude, give a warning.

Midnight broke through your thoughts, asking how long you were planning to stay. She comments on the tension without any out of pocket comparisons to the devil’s tango. You reassured her you should be gone in two weeks. If you were going to do your research here, no doubt it would be uncomfortable for her and Mic if that’s how you’re going to interact with their friend. “I hope we can do something while you’re here. It’ll be fun,” Midnight offered half-heartedly. Even if you sucked at keeping contact for the past year, she was still nice to you. Although, it’s doubtful you two would have time for each other while you were investigating and she does her jobs.

“Count me in!” Mic puts his free arm around your shoulders, he doesn’t add any pressure, but your arms squeezed into your ribs at the unintentional threat. Like one wrong move and your skin would seer through kevlar and leather. “We have to grab a bite!”

Your ears perk up, stomach coming to the forefront of your thoughts. You were drooling at the thought of finally being able to eat some bomb-ass food.

The passage of time went faster with the distracting fantasy. Not long after agreeing to Mic’s invitation of food, and having to hear a long list of places you couldn’t go to this very moment, the meeting was close to a start–made apparent by the next pro hero arriving to the meeting room. Your friends introduced you to another one of their coworkers, Snipe, who was dressed as a cowboy and actually packed heat.

The lovely thoughts and curiosity came to a halt upon entering the room. Aizawa glared at you for disrupting him from reading what he had in those folders. Without breaking eye contact you reached toward Mic so he could give you back your briefcase, so you could put it down somewhere. 

Aizawa went back to his folders, rubbing his temple like your presence alone vexes him. You chose to place it in the corner of the room by a potted plant. You were careful not to grunt as you squatted. Ignoring the pain, you swiped the pattern on the briefcase, for good luck even if you hardly believe in such a thing. 

Call it habit or instinct, but you glanced over your shoulder after. Of course, there was Aizawa. He eyeballed you, waiting for you to make a mistake. You clenched your jaw as you stood up again, adjusting your uniform before walking back toward Mic toward the center of the room. If Aizawa saw an opportunity, an opening to get rid of you, he’d pounce. 

[hannahssimblr]

Chapter Fourteen (Part 2)

When my phone buzzes in my pocket I feel a jolt of anxious nausea, but still, whip it out so quickly that it almost slips out of my gloved hand. I release my thumb to tap the screen, anticipating another message from Dean, but this time it isn’t him. 

It’s Jude. 

A weird half-laugh half-cry escapes me and my stomach flutters. The last person I ever thought would message me, as I fully expected to never have to hear from him again, but here he is, lighting up my phone on an ordinary Friday afternoon. Curiously I open the message. 

Thought you’d followed me to Berlin. 

He writes. Quickly followed by a photo of a girl standing ahead of him in a bakery. She has the same coat as I do, and the same hair cut and colour. She really does look like me. I watch the little dots bounce as he types another message.

Looks like you have a German doppelganger.

A smile quirks on my lips, I can’t help it, and then quickly I open my camera and point it up towards a corner of the Cathedral eaves where a horrible gothic gargoyle sits guard with its grotesque little mouth wide open in a silent scream. I giggle softly to myself as I zoom in on it. 

So weird. 

I type back, attaching the photo. 

Because I just saw your doppelganger too. 

I’m glad that there’s nobody around to see how self-satisfied I am, smiling at my own joke. 

Yikes, spitting image.  Still snowing, I see.

Relentlessly. 

So much for springtime. Weather in that country is so fucked. 

I frown. There he goes again with that “your country, that country” stuff. 

Wait, are you not Irish anymore? I remember you making a bit of a song and dance out of the ‘half’ part when I met you. 

Fair enough. Weather in OUR country is fucked. 

Ah yeah, that’s more of it now. Too late Jude, you’ve already disowned us. As a collective nation we’re devastated.

I smirk as I tease him, beginning to pace around, feeling charged with new energy, but then my heart leaps to my throat when my phone comes alive in my hand, buzzing with a phone call from him. I hit accept. 

“Hello?”

His voice comes down the line, deep and low in my ear. “Sorry, I just wanted to infer from your tone whether you’re annoyed or amused.”

I smirk. “Insecure, much?”

He laughs and I hear something crinkle on his end. “Well, alright, I knew you were amused, I just didn’t want to juggle eating my lunch with one hand and trying to text you with the other.”

“What did you get?”

“Hm?”

“In the bakery, like, what did you get for lunch?” 

“Oh, it’s like a multigrain bread roll thing. With cheese and salami.”

“Sounds nice.”

I hear him take a bite out of it. “Mhm. And for after I got this thing called a Puddingteilchen.”

“Sounds enticing.” I say, giggling at the goofy German accent he just put on.

“It’s essentially a vanilla pastry, they love things with gluten here, I try as many new foods as I can.”

“Mhm, how adventurous.”

“I’m in a very ‘trying-new-things’ phase at the moment. What did you have for lunch?”

“A flat white.” 

“Explains why you’re eating vicariously through me.”

I laugh. “Well if there were any food places open I might have gotten something more substantial, right now, honestly the caffeine is just making me feel jittery.”

“Oh no.” 

I walk out of the Christchurch grounds and start ambling back down Dame Street with the phone pressed to my ear. “I’m looking right now and there’s genuinely nothing to eat, I swear they’re treating this snowfall like it’s the apocalypse.”

“They always do that, don’t they?” He says, and then quickly corrects himself. “Oh, sorry, we always do that. We, the collective Irish people, a group to which I still very much belong and have not dissociated myself from now that I live abroad.” 

I roll my eyes and chuckle. “Okay, I get it. You think I’m dramatic.” 

“Never.”

“So what are you doing today? Do you have college?”

“On Fridays I only have classes in the morning, so actually, right now I’m about to go looking for a costume.”

“A costume? For what?” 

“This party I’m going to next month.” He says. “I’m looking for something from the eighties.”

“There’s an 80’s theme?”

“80’s movies, so like, specifically a character from a famous flick. I can’t just be some generic 80’s man. These people have strict rules.”

“Aha, so is this some kind of ticketed event?”

“No, it’s a house party.”

“Strict rules for a house party.”

“You have no idea.” He laughs and I hear him moving about, presumably getting up from wherever he had been sitting to begin walking around. I try to imagine where he might be, but having never been to Berlin it’s difficult to visualise the way that the streets might look. “My friends, the ones hosting the party, they do this all the time. There’s always a theme and you have to adhere to it directly otherwise you don’t get to come in.”

“Yikes.”

“I know, and really, I’m not a costume guy, at least I wasn’t. I showed up to the first party, which, by the way, was themed as ‘Wild West’, in jeans and a t-shirt. They asked me where my cowboy hat was and then closed the door in my face.” 

“Wow, that’s intense.”

“Yes, but it’s all in the name of creativity, I guess. Astrid likes going to them, actually, it’s where we met, so I try to make my best effort.”

His mention of Astrid makes me feel some kind of strange way, but I ignore my unsettlement. “So what are you thinking for this one?”

“Well, any ideas?”

“Hmmm… Marty McFly?” 

He laughs. “There will be at least three other Marty McFlys. Red puffer vest and blue jeans? Too easy.” 

“Well excuse me! You asked for a suggestion.”

“I was hoping for a good one.” 

“I forgot how sassy you are.”

“You missed that about me, I bet.”

“Did you assume I missed anything about you?” There’s a pause then, in which I instantly feel horrible, and the feeling only increases the longer he waits before saying anything. 

“Well-” He starts, but there seems to be a delay in the line as I end up cutting him off with my next panicked words. “So what idea did you have for a costume?”

He laughs in a somewhat self-conscious way, probably glad of the swerve. “Well I was thinking maybe Maverick from Top Gun.”

“Typical man choice.” I say immediately, which makes him laugh. “Sorry, is that too predictable for you?”

“I can see you doing that. Wearing your little bomber jacket and aviator shades, very hyper masculine. Men just love Tom Cruise.” 

“I am many things, but I don’t think I qualify as hyper masculine” He snorts. “Have you seen my cute little earrings?” 

“No, you’ve never once mentioned them.” 

“So I’m curious, what costume would you have picked if you were invited?” 

“Baby from Dirty Dancing.” I say immediately, because I’ve already been thinking about it for half this conversation. “I want to do that curly thing to my hair and see if it’d suit me.” I catch sight of my reflection while passing a stop window and pick out a strand of my limp, straight hair that has never seen texture beyond the loose waves that remain after I’ve taken my plaits out.

“It would. And the costume, would you go for the shirt and shorts or the pink dress from the ending?”

A smile twitches on my lips. “Sounds like you know Dirty Dancing pretty intimately.”

“A good movie is a good movie, I’m not embarrassed.” 

“I wasn’t suggesting you should be.”

“I can’t believe it, Evie.” He says with that easy laugh he always had. “You’re the very same as you used to be.” 

I baulk a little bit, because I don’t feel in any way the same as I used to back then, when every little thing I did would make me second guess myself, every word I spoke I’d agonise over, and now I don’t feel that easy as much. Now when I speak, people listen to what I say and seem to believe that I’m interesting, even if I don’t. The Evie I was back when he met me and the Evie I am now are nothing alike. “I’m not the same.”

“Well, I think that you are. You’re still so cheeky, you don’t let me get away with anything.”

“I don’t think I was like that back then.”

“What? Seriously?”

“No, I was just shy and awkward and self conscious all the time. I was a nightmare to be around.”

I hear him pause to consider this. “With all due respect, I probably wouldn’t have spent so much time with you if you were like that. You were shy, sure, but you were always funny.” 

“You thought I was funny?” 

“You don’t remember how much we used to laugh at everything?”

“Yes, but I felt like I was just laughing at the things you said because you were so funny.”

“I’m not that funny.” 

“Come on.”

“I’m not funny enough to carry an entire one of our conversations all by myself.” A pause. “You really don’t like that I’ve said that you’re the same, do you?”

“No.” I admit with some reluctance, glancing through the gates of George’s Street Arcade, all of the stalls chained and boarded up inside, seeing it so silent and empty for the first time. Eerie. 

“I’m sorry. You’re different too in loads of ways, I was just trying to say that the things I liked best about you are still intact, and I’m glad of it.”

“It’s okay, just sometimes I feel like I’m going crazy. I seem to remember things wrong a lot.”

“Mm?” He says encouragingly.

“Like, I dunno, it’s as though the way that I’ve stored things in my memory bank is different from how normal people do it. I tend to twist things to fit my own narrative, does that make sense?”

“Like what narrative?” 

“Like, I don’t know… like that I was a loser, or something.” My face gets hot despite the frigid air, and I feel I’m being too frank with him. He probably doesn’t care to hear it. “It doesn’t matter, I’m not really sure what I mean.”

“You were never a loser.” 

“That’s nice of you.” 

“I mean it! I always thought you were cool.” 

What on earth? I was never cool, especially not when I was seventeen, and I can’t help but scoff. 

He sighs. “Well, I’m not here to convince you. I’m just telling you what I thought, you can choose whether or not to believe me.”

“I don’t.”

“Damn, okay, well, you got me. You were the worst, and I hated hanging out with you.” Even though he’s clearly being sarcastic his words still kind of sting, as they reflect almost exactly what Kelly had said to me on Stephen’s night. Jude might not mean them, but someone else had. He seems to sense this and quickly backtracks. “Sorry, that was a stupid joke. Like I said, I’m not that funny.” 

“You are.” I say. “Actually, your whole thing is that you’re funny, but in a slightly mean way.” 

“So I have realised. You know I used to be really mean? Like when I was about fourteen, and I’ve always worried that the vibe stuck around. Did you think I had a mean boy vibe when we used to hang out?” 

Kind of, but I didn’t hate it.” I laugh through my nose, and my breath clouds in the air. “In fact I felt bad for liking it.”

“Who was I even mean to? I don’t remember.” He pauses and then adds, “Which I suppose goes to show how often I was a dickhead – I can’t even remember my own crimes.” 

“Liam.” I say.

“Oh yeah” He says remorsefully. “He probably didn’t deserve the shit he got. We were all mean to poor Liam. ”

“Speak for yourself, I was nice.”

“Oh come on, you were meanest of  us all.”

I scoff. “In what world?”

“Please, I didn’t reject his debs invitation and leave him destitute, crying on the beach in a wetsuit.”

“You’re created an entire false narrative here, he wasn’t crying.”

“Okay, sorry now, but there’s no scenario in my head in which he wasn’t. I just can’t imagine that. He was sobbing in my version of events.”

“Trust me Jude, he was fine. He drove away from me that day without shedding a single tear. Nobody was crying over me back then.”

The line goes quiet for a moment and for some reason my skin prickles like an icy wind has licked over me despite how I’ve warmed up from all of the walking. The silence only lasts for a beat and then his voice returns, bright and easy as ever. “So tell me, who did you end up taking to your debs in the end?”

“Oh God.” I breathe. “Where do I even begin with this? How much time do you have for the highlight reel of sixth year?”

“Lay it on me, Evie.” 

He keeps me company all the way back to my house, and doesn’t even hang up when he starts going in and out of shops in search of his Top Gun costume, giving me updates on what he’s finding, open to any and all suggestions I have about how to create his own patches that match the ones Tom wears in the film. I made him promise to send me a photo of the costume before he wears it out, and when he says he will I find myself actually believing him. 

I start feeling a little sad when I turn onto my street, knowing that I’ll have to hang up soon. We’ve been having so much fun and then… 

“Oh Jesus.” I say to myself as The front of my building comes into view, and I completely cut him off in the middle of a sentence. His voice comes back at me through her receiver, alarmed. “Did something just happen?”

“No, it’s fine, just, I have to go.”

“Okay well, call me back anyt-”

I hang up the phone and stuff it into my pocket as I march up the front steps to the apartment, feeling anger rising inside me.

“Dean!” I cry. He’s standing by the door, shoulder resting against the wall as though he’s been waiting there for a while, and he doesn’t look surprised to see me, fuming, charging up the steps towards him. “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Prev // Next

[pinkmoondoll9shihtzu]

How do I stop being so afraid of dying

I'm either the best or worst person to ask this question , i'm not sure which but i know my answer could feel abrasive so bear with me here

Before i get into any of my feelings on the matter, Just remember, you are here now. Present-ness is all there is. Present-ness is the antidote to fear. Anything you can do or touch or observe to evoke your senses and remind yourself to be present , start with that <3

now, For context, i have spent majority of my life completely enamored and obsessed with death, desperately seeking it out , as well as answers tothe questions of ~what happens to us~ because when my dad duering my childhood i felt i could no longer exist in the physical world without him, nor could i handle the mundane-ness of life, i could not be normal , i could not think about anything other than dying, it felt like the answer to every problem, in a way i was jealous of him, i craved that escape -

this persisted throughout my whole life until maybe like, 4 or 5 months ago lol, i finally like, Found some peace within myself, and now i don't actively want to die anymore :) But i do still feel deeply accepting of it and not afraid at all, because i believe you never really die, the energy of your soul just moves on to a different plane of existence where U actually have much more freedom & safety. ok I'll put the rest under readmore for length's sake

Like it just felt very safe to me, to die. And i believe that was maybe a psychic link between me & my dad, i could feel him around me all the time, and i felt he was in true comfort and safety,, But i also wondered if that was just my imagination trying to help me cope. As a kid our family had no religion so i never believed in the heaven/hell dichotomy and had no established preconceived notion of what happens when U die, only my intuition. But that was not enough for me, I needed real tangible answers, So you could say my dad's death lead me on the lifelong spirit-knowledge-quest which is pretty much the foundation of my entire personality at this point lol.

And ok here's the part where i can actually try to answer your question - Like i mentioned previously, you do not die. You really truly just leave your body & move on. You go to the astral plane, you rest, you heal. your family, ancestors, friends, anyone waiting for you on the other side will be there to guide you through your transition. All the burdens of your life will be instantly released and so your soul can only feel it's truest most loving essence. The eventual goal is to return to "source", however, you will probably not want to do that yet. Anything left unfinished in the physical plane you will want to deal with. Often our souls linger around in the astral to watch over & help our loved ones still living in the material. If there's still karmic attachments we will generally wait for them to pass too, so we can eventually reincarnate together and try again.

This is the general gist of info i've gathered over years and years of seeking the answers. Pretty much everything comes back to this. And as i've become more open to communicating with the other side, I am more sure of it than ever. That's actually why I don't feel so eager to die anymore, because I want to be a bridge for them, so they can have more direct influence in the material world. Because they really want to help us T-T they really want us to live without fear. Fear stops us from living this life to the fullest, they want us to replace fear with love.

Btw, death does not hurt. if you're afraid of it hurting, please just know, it does not hurt. idk how to explain this but there is no pain. I think many people are afraid of death because it sounds painful so i just wanted to add that in.

Life continues on the other side. It's different, but you're still you, your soul is still your soul, there is no hell. You'll still have your essence and your memories. You will be powerful in ways you can't even really imagine here. Time and space will bend for you in the astral. You will be burden-free. You will protect the ones you love and even sometimes be able to come to them in dreams. You can come back here too. One day you will even be able to return to ~Godsource~ when you feel you are ready. it's all love on the other side.

So please don't fear <3 death is natural death is nature. death is mysterious but there are many resources out there to learn about the afterlife. Even just like, watching/reading people talk about their near death experiences i find to be immensely comforting, as they mostly all describe the same beautiful weightless sensations and sense of total peace/acceptance.

Even though i finally found reasons to live, I still dont rly fear death, and feel kind of excited to have the full spectrum of my ~powers~ back lol. So maybe that's another way u could think of it, like, think of all the ways u can protect ur loved ones and send them little hints of your continued existence ..

also Sorry if this answer made you feel worse in any way, it's always hard for me to gauge how my opinions of death will go over with others, as i've had such a uniquely obsessive experience with it and it's so fully ingrained into my conscious thought patterns that maybe i could seem really intense/psycho without realizing ^_^; This message seeks only to bring comfort so i hope that translates accurately

The cure to all fear is mastering the technique of being Present in The Moment. When u feel the fear creeping in, try to ground down, recenter yourself, slow down & focus on your breath, in out in out, touch things in front of you, go for a walk, look at some trees, you're still here. You're still here right now and that's all that matters. The future is irrelevant, NOW is all there is, and you are here <3

Stay strong anon, try to replace fear with love whenever u can. Easier said than done, but it is possible to gain control over the sensation of fear, with practice and dedication, i promise. Much love to you <3 PMD9

[therottenkingsreckoning]

We're back with another one! Went through several agonizing rewrites here, stressing probably more than necessary that things all flow well and feels hit like they're supposed to. But finally, the whole extra long beast of a chapter is finished.

I'll put some stuff down below this like I did earlier- except this time, it's a link to the B Dylan Hollis recipe video I had in mind when Frank is talking about cake (a recipe I'd still love to try out myself) and the drawings of Apple the houpa I made ages ago.

Anyway, enough rambling. Fanfic ahoy!

Little Flame, chapter 7

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was one thing for Eddie to be nervous. After all, his mate and child were on the line if anything happened. But it was another thing entirely when the other neighbors starting treating Frank the same way.

"Oop, watch your head there!" Howdy called out, passing by them with armfuls of boxes. Frank had been helping out around the bodega lately, a way of repaying the stolen test which had over time morphed into a biweekly half-job. It was also a chance for the two to hang out, since they otherwise wouldn't have done.

"I'm just saying, you should give it a chance," Frank said, continuing where he'd left off in both sweeping and conversation. "Beans add a nice richness you don't get from the regular stuff."

"But in a cake? Really? Apple, move outta the way." Howdy nudged the houpa with his foot, earning little more than a mrrp? in response. "If ya ask me, it sounds like the cravings might be getting to your head right now."

Frank huffed. "This was before I'd gotten pregnant, so I highly doubt that would've had an affect on my taste."

"Heh, if ya say so," Howdy replied, beginning to unpack the first box of the stack he'd set down beside him.

Frank would've responded further, they already knew what to say. Unfortunately though, the now awake cat-horse that was Howdy's pet had deemed his broom a suitable plaything, clamping the bristles between his hooves & teeth with considerable force.

"Nggh ...God, it's no use trying to get anything done around this animal!" he scoffed, ceding the tool to its new rightful owner. "Why do you even still keep him here?"

"Hey now, you heard what Ember said, he can't be released into the wild. And I've caught you snuggling this big dork several times, so don't try to claim you don't like him too." A lower hand grabbed the scientist's arm as they were reaching for a box, the taller shaking his head firmly. "Uh uh, no heavy lifting for you Mr. Mom."

Frank let out a noise of frustration as he realized what Howdy was saying. "Oh come on, not you too! It's like I suddenly can't do anything anymore!"

"Sorry fella, I just couldn't live with myself if you got hurt. Not to mention Eddie would probably have my head for it." The caterpillar shrugged his shoulders in succession. "Matter of fact, I can probably take care of the rest here if you wanna get going. It's been great, but I'm sure you've got stuff you wanna do."

Frank took the offer, begrudgingly. Howdy was wrong, he didn't really have anything better to do with his time. But they'd certainly not be made to sit uselessly inside the shop! No, he'd go see what Julie was up to.

Outside was nice, the weather warm and a little windy. the sounds of birds and bugs made gentle music on Frank's ears, and he felt their spirits lifted as he walked along the path. No sense in letting it get to me now, they thought. He's wrong, but I'll let him be wrong. I've got a day to enjoy.

They passed by Barbie's house, the dog herself just stepping out when she noticed him and raised a paw in friendly greeting. "Hey there Frank, you heading to Julie's house?"

"Indeed I am," Frank answered simply.

"I'll go with ya then!" she said cheerfully, not waiting for an answer as she strode up beside the grey. "Got a book I was gonna return to her anyway."

Frank let out a heavy, dramatic sigh and kept walking. "Alright, but if you get too annoying I'll go somewhere else."

In truth it was mostly just for show, and he suspected she knew that too. They'd gotten along well in recent months, her frequent visits to Julie's house meaning the two had had plenty of time to get to know each other better. And Frank was grateful for a distraction in any case, as she rambled cheerfully about everything and nothing.

"...he's got paints set aside for that, mixed the batches up himself" she chuckled, wiggling her fingers for emphasis. "Doesn't want me dippin' my big ol' mitts into the good stuff."

Frank nodded. "Suppose that does make sense. There's much less oil paint, and it really isn't meant f-"

"SHH!"

Words and walking stopped short as one of those same big hands swept out to catch him. "There's something up ahead," the dog growled, all cheerfulness gone as her ears perked and eyes narrowed to scan the treeline. Frank looked around himself, feeling a growing fear creep into the pit of their stomach until-

A squirrel darted from between the lower branches of a tree, running swiftly past them to the other side of the road. "Phew, thought it was somethin' big," Barbie said, releasing the iron grip she'd had on the smaller's shoulders.

Frank wriggled out of her grasp and frowned. "You're really getting this worked up over squirrels?" He scoffed, arms folded.

Sheepishly, she shrugged. "Can't really help it, sorry. I guess it's some kinda instinct that tells me I need to keep ya safe. Especially right now, with uhh...things bein' the way that they are."

"You mean my pregnancy."

"...yeah."

Frank grumbled, pinching the bridge of their nose. "I don't need you protecting me Barbara, I can handle all this on my own."

Barbie opened her mouth to protest further, but a glare from the other shut her down quickly. "Yeah, fine I won't bug ya about it," she sighed. Then grinning, added, "Don't suppose you mind bugs though."

Frank groaned out loud. My God, this was the worst one yet! Barbie gladly took the victory as a sign to press further, the two subconciously falling into familiar rhythms of grump and jokester until they were suddenly right outside a familiar pink dwelling.

Unsurprisingly, Julie was the middle of planning a game when they arrived, marking hopscotch squares out with chalk. "Frank!! and Barbie too!" She squealed excitedly upon seeing her friends, jumping to her feet and giving both of them a warm hug. Still on the ground, Sally laughed softly and waved a hello. "Already done with your work at the bodega dear?"

"Yes, well, he allowed me to leave early," Frank said with a roll of his eyes, sitting down beside her on the dirt. "We had a bit of a disagreement over my current capabilities."

"Oh, I'm sure he's simply worried for you darling," Sally reassured, "We all are."

Frank sighed. The condescension was beginning to get annoying, but he didn't want to ruin things with an argument when they'd just arrived. For your friends, for Julie, he thought, mentally gritting his teeth as he silently picked up another of the hula hoops the star was inexplicably wrapping in colorful tape.

Next to them, Julie was explaining the rules of her new game. "So if it lands on heads, you gotta run around the neighborhood before they catch you."

"Ough, might wanna lay off the runnin' right now," said Barbie. " 'S at least two of us who can't do much of that."

Frank turned to look at her. It was quite clear she was referring to themselves, yet he rationalized- not an unfair proclamation. It's true, I can't really run too far now without getting winded. No need to get worked up...

Julie seemed to consider it, a worrying look of worry starting to creep over the monster's features. "Oh that is true, we gotta be careful with Frank right now! Don't wanna hurt the baby."

Frank's heart sank. Oh no. Not her. They could handle the others, could pretend their opinions didn't matter to him. But Julie... "You don't need to..." he started.

"Better take out the ball-throwing too in that case!" Sally interrupted. "Maybe even these hula hoops, they could hit someone's stomach pretty hard if you spin them fast."

"That's..."

"Perfect thinking!" Julie proclaimed, already pulling her her notes to make amendments. "No running, no throwing..."

"Julie please," Frank begged, increasingly upset.

It fell on deaf ears. The three were talking as though he wasn't even there, oblivious to the building whine of stress & overstimulated rage happening inches away.

"Take out-"

"Better change-"

"Really for the best that we-"

"STOP IT!!!" Frank screamed, jumping up to his feet and throwing the hoop somewhere off into the distance. Their breath was ragged, his eyes burned so badly with tears that they didn't dare open them. "Why don't you trust me to do anything right now???? Why are you treating me this way?!?"

Dead silence filled the air, even the sounds of nature seemingly stunned by his outburst. All that was there was the rustling wind and his heavy breathing, through gritted teeth and shaking hands. Julie gently touched their arm, but he smacked it away, not wanting touch or care right now. "And you especially Julie! I thought you of all people would understand."

"Frank I'm-"

"Shut up," he huffed, already marching away. "Just shut up."

Frank felt so sick, and tired, and angry. Why was everyone like this right now? Just because he was pregnant, he was suddenly unable to throw a ball, or lift a box, or do anything he could've done five months ago? "It's like all they care about is you," he snarled, poking at their belly, "I'm just a vessel."

A sudden splash, and wetness seeped into his sock. As though this awful, awful day couldn't get any worse, he'd stepped into a puddle. But maybe it was the anger twisting their mind around- it felt good now. A puddle's full of awful germs they wouldn't want me touching. Shame if I...

SPLASH! his other foot stomped down hard into the mud, sending water flying up onto his trousers. SPLASH SPLASH! they danced and kicked around in it, somehow reveling right now in how awful it felt, how forbidden.

"I'm doing things! I might hurt myself!" He sang out loud to no one, grabbing a nearby tree branch and pulling. "Won't somebody stop me?!" It snapped, and he tumbled back into the dirt, giggling manically as they stood up and swung it back into the trunk like a sword. Then again, and again as the rage turned to violence and then into tears. Frank sank into the dirt, breathing hard as he sobbed.

"Are you ok?"

Frank opened his eyes to a familiar blue swirl above them, its owner giving them a look of confusion. "Go away," the taller sniffled angrily. Last thing he needed was people caring.

"Ok," Wally answered simply with a shrug, already turning around to start walking away. In that moment, with just how completely messed up this whole day had been, it was this simple lack of concern that struck Frank's heart all of a sudden. "Come back," he sniffled, sitting up. And Wally did.

"You're not worried about me?"

Wally raised a non-existent eyebrow. "Well yeah, if you're crying in the dirt and hitting things I'll be concerned."

"But you don't think I'm...less capable? Just because of my being pregnant?"

Things seemed to click for the demon then, sitting down next to Frank. "Who told you that? No- I mean I've never been pregnant, but as far as I know that doesn't mean you can't do things."

"Exactly! But everyone acts like I suddenly can't, or I shouldn't in case...something happens, I guess. I don't know." Frank gripped on to the broken branch, picking away at its bark as they spoke. "First Eddie being too scared of letting me climb, then at Howdy's when he wouldn't let me lift the boxes, those I could sort of understand. But then Barbie, then Sally and even Julie..." he trailed off.

Wally seemed to think. "You want me to tell them to knock it off?" he offered. "If they won't listen to you, maybe they'll listen to me instead."

"Tch," Frank hissed. "That's the whole problem though. They won't listen to me! It's...it's like I don't even matter, my feelings don't matter, and all that's important is-"

"Frank..."

Frank and Wally both looked over to see their friends standing in the road. Julie, Sally, Barbie, and Eddie still breathing slightly hard from running towards the sound of his partner's yelling.

"Hello friends," Wally spoke, his usually cheerful greeting tinged right now with the slightest anger. "Frank was telling me about how you haven't been treating them very well."

"I'm sorry," Julie sobbed, quite visibly shocked & heartbroken. "I had no idea it would upset you that much."

"You would've if you'd listened!" Frank retorted. "I was trying to tell you, and you kept talking over me."

"We...we were only trying to help..." Sally piped up nervously, then winced at the glare shot her way. "Right, you're right though. It is... your baby, we shouldn't overstep your bounds like that."

Eddie slowly approached Frank, gently helping them back to his feet. "I guess...we're all just real excited for that right now," he said. "We wanna make sure that things go right."

"That doesn't mean-" Wally started, but Frank cut him off with a gentle wave. "It's ok, I can handle it." And now that things were fully out in the open, now that his blood had settled down from its boiling point, he could.

They sighed. "I know you mean well, but... it hurts. I'm still me! I can still do things! I promise I'm not as fragile as you think, even right now. I just...I need you all to trust me, and if something truly feels like it's a risk, I'll let you know, ok?"

Julie hugged him gently, checking first he was comfortable with touch right now. "I'm a terrible friend," she said. "I'm sorry."

"You're not, I promise." Frank squeezed her tight. All anger gone, he felt so tired in her arms, and glad to have those arms back to hold. "We're all new to this thing, and you're trying your best. Just...don't do it again, ok?"

They all nodded, still shuffling awkwardly. "Hey," the grey offered with a weak smile. "How about this? You let me pick all the rules for the next game."

"Ok!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

[seeinginthedark]

I am now convinced that I once had an existence outside of this simulation. There, I was multi-dimensional and travelled the multi-verse. I had a very active social life there . I was invited to many worlds and dimensions. I was female there too. Maybe even a goddess. Perhaps even built worlds and destroyed worlds.

That’s why my soul keeps telling me that I need to liberate myself from here. That’s why I get befuddled at my apparent lack of “magical” abilities in this world .

I don’t know if I chose to live here or if I was chosen to come here for the purpose of this impossible mission I now find myself on , again . I think there are some souls that choose to reincarnate here .

They must be gluttons for punishment to want to come here . With no memory of how or even why they are here . This place isn’t a “spiritual school for learning and soul development”. This place is beyond fucked. A playground for egos. A circus of clowns. A farm. A zoo. A fucked up social experiment. Hunting ground for paedophiles. Rampant injustice . Rigged. It fails to educate or nourish my soul. My soul is Divinity and does not require this meaningless human education. The Earth herself though , is remarkable and beautiful. But she is getting disrespected and polluted , trashed, exploited. She’s pretty angry, actually. There are many other beings that reside here , not human, who are getting angry at how Earth is being treated. I won’t get into it in full detail of it in this post . But I think you get the idea . 🌋🌊😉

I’ve managed to remember who I am or who I was . My ego has been broken down numerous times . The only way this could happen to me, was by experiencing being damaged by trauma . The trauma is so great ,that it fractures my sense of self . The pain is so horrible that it forces its way through the ego - smashing it apart. That allows me to really integrate myself with my soul and hear what my soul wants to do - just for a long enough time before my ego builds back up again. FYI if you keep getting traumatised here , you are able to do this as well. It’s the only positive consequence of suffering and pain that I can see. That, and assisting others who are also traumatised.

For some reason I’ve taken pity on the other souls here and feel drawn to trying to bring them along with me on this “mission impossible let’s all escape the simulation “.

They don’t seem to hunger for it like I do . Maybe because they have never existed outside it before and this is all they know and they’ve become institutionalised by it. Like prisoners who get used to being incarcerated and they can’t handle it when they finally are released and get some freedom. Maybe I can actually escape it at anytime I want , but I don’t feel right leaving the others here. Maybe some of my multi- dimensional friends are stuck here and I’m waiting to reunite with them before I leave .

Also , what complicates things is that I have children here. Which puts me in a bit of a pickle . I’ve shifted to 5D before . Tried to tell people how to get there in my videos a couple of years ago. But they didn’t get circulated due to , fuck I don’t know , corrupted algorithms or people just weren’t interested. I implemented my 11 commandments, for the new 5D generation, but they gained no interest . I channeled deities and timeline agents in my videos, with prophetic messages included . No one cared. So what the fuck am I still doing here, dealing with ridiculous third dimensional demands. I am going to break the machine that created this simulation that every one is trapped in. I don’t give a fuck about the repercussions at this point .

And I want some justice for the Earth too. And the ancestors . And all the abducted children. Elderly too. The mentally “unwell”. Indigenous people who were colonised, justice for all these groups of people. That’s what my soul desires . And I’m getting better at getting what I want . I’m getting better at manifesting.

[bullet-prooflove]

How do you stay motivated to write?

I usually write one shots but would love to create a longer series/story.

So my series usually start out as a one shot and then continue because I feel like there's more of the story to be told.

If you're a fan of my blog you know I usually work from prompts, sometimes a string of them just kind of work to form a series. That's why I love prompts it takes you in a different direction from the norm and people quite enjoy that aspect of my work.

If I do 'plan' one it usually starts with a specific scene or idea in mind.

I think Dean Archer's The Study started with the idea of what would Dean do if Jack Dayton fell in love with his wife and then I start putting together the parts of how that happens and that usually generates the conflict. Like how do they end up in close proximity - ok so they're working on this study together, it's very important to Isobel, ok... why is it important to Isobel, does that override her ability to see straight when it comes to Jack. What does Dean do about it? That's the kind of thing that builds up the additional parts and formulates how it progresses.

I usually have an ending in mind that I work towards but as the story develops the characters usually change it and that's fine, it's having the goal that helps, like a little guiding star. I never start with this piece is going to be six parts. I never know how many parts it's going to be.

As for the motivation I try to live and breathe it, usually it will be the only thing I work on for a few days. I usually have the show on in the background, so I'm not distracted by something else. I think that plays a big part.

I try not to release a series before it's completed or it has at least five parts. If I'm around five parts usually I need a little break from it so I immerse myself in other stuff. That gives me five weeks to work on the next few pieces when I'm ready, depending on where they are in my schedule. I usually come back to it after a few weeks, read through it and continue because by that point I've had the brain space for it to be fresh again.

Main Tips to Take Away From This:

Have an ending in mind, it doesn't have to end up being the actual ending but it gives you something to work towards.

Live and breath it for a few days, make it the project you focus on. Give it the time it deserves.

If you need to take a break, that's fine, come back to it in a couple of weeks with fresh eyes.

Be wary of release pressure. If you start releasing it straight away you can’t go back and change something if the character reveals something new later on. Also the pressure of releasing it straight away is that when people want more, and you’re having an off day, that pressure can cause writer’s block and you feel like you’re disappointing people. What you really need is brain space so reframe the thought like  - wow people are interested in this story, they’ll wait for the next part. Reframing takes that pressure away.

Use Cause & Effect to build conflict, if your character is doing A, question why and what led them to this moment and consider how it effects their actions moving forward. Do this for all characters. The Study is an excellent reflection of this because each character has their own motivations which causes them to react the way they do.

- Isobel becomes obsessed with the study because of her history, effectively ignoring her husband and putting her in the proximity of a man who is in love with her.

- Her history is the reason Dean chide her about the situation, but he’s also going through his own shit and is struggling to tell his wife about it because of the distance, which creates more distance. What will Isobel do when she does find out about Dean’s illness?

- Again her history is one of the reasons she’s so kind to Jack regarding his situation, which makes him fall in love with her because no one has ever understood him before. It’s that love that leads him to come clean to Dean about the why and take drastic steps regarding Dean’s condition. So many fics fall short because they don’t use cause and effect, it gives you a deeper, more realistic insight into the characters and shows you what path they’re going to take without coming across as contrived or stilted.