#would retake every course but two in a heartbeat

[nicollekidman]

where did you go to school and what did you study?

i went to nyu gallatin and concentrated in essentially literature and polysci/sociology but almost all of my classes were interdisciplinary seminars so i was out there taking shit like “philosophy of religion” and “domesticating the wild in children’s literature”…… literally greatest most stimulating four years of my life (academically) and i would pay a million dollars to have access to my course essays again. my concentration colloquium i ended up titling “loaded language: domination & dissent through the written word” and everytime i think about it im like woah i really tapped into something that i would only get more interested in and also goddamn i need to get an advanced degree and also yeah every stereotype about gallatin students is true lol

[rosaacicularis]

Ayo 👀👀👀 that scarian actor au (all of the fic ideas you mentioned sound so good but god damn that actor au)

OH MY GOD don’t get me started on that au (please do, i love it so much and could talk about it for hours)

so grian and scar got off on the wrong foot when they first met. scar was trying to make everyone laugh during a scene and grian saw it as unprofessional, grian was short with him because of that so they didn’t get along. mumbo, their mutual best friend and casting director, saw that it was really just a big misunderstanding and that they could be friends if they gave it a shot, started casting them together.

at first it was as like characters that didn’t need to interact often, so they could just get used to each other. but both of them were so stubborn that nothing changed, except that people saw how good their chemistry was and started casting them as closer characters.

they both admire the other and their work, because they can see that they are good at acting, but they never let the other know that. off set they always scramble to get away from each other immediately. they’re usually casted as side characters, but then finally they get their big break as the main characters in a movie adaptation of a really popular book.

what bothers them both about it most, is that it’s a romance and they’re the main love interests. they complain about it to mumbo, who has to hear his two best friends whine about each other, when really they should just be grateful mumbo got them that job.

they are forced to spend a lot more time together, through chemistry reads and memorizing lines and scene retakes. and they start warming up to each other, even though they don’t let anybody else know, their pride’s wouldn’t let them.

and everything comes crashing down around them when they do a run through of the kiss scene. grian’s heart is beating out of his chest and he tries to chalk it up to nerves from being on camera, but he knows the truth. scar can barely think, and oh god when did grian’s eyes get so pretty? and grian’s hand is on scar’s chest and scar is cupping grian’s face and the kiss tastes like the cookies they offer off-set.

they, because of course they do, go to mumbo with all of their problems. and complain about maybe kind of falling in love with their co star who they swore to hate. mumbo encourages them both to tell the other how they feel, but neither of them take his advice.

they’re a lot closer after the kiss, they hang off each other’s every word. if you’re looking for one, you’ll find the other too. but neither of them make an actual move, reeling off of the romantic moments between their characters, desperately wishing it was real.

after filming is done, they go their separate ways. they keep in touch though, texting constantly, sending cat pictures and memes back and forth for hours on end. they fall even further in love with each other, and when they meet back up for the promotional tour, they hug for maybe a little longer than normal.

mumbo, sick of their shenanigans and flirting around each other, ‘accidentally’ only books them one room at a hotel. they’re both absolutely red when they tell the front desk that it’s fine, that they would just share. they make a pillow border between themselves, but wake up cuddling.

grian wakes up first, and logically he should get up out of bed, pretend it never happened, but instead he traces the marks on scar’s chest, listens to his heartbeat. scar wakes up and starts playing with grian’s hair. grian stills for a second but relaxes in scar’s hold and mutters a good morning.

scar blurts out that he thinks he’s in love with grian and that shocks them both fully awake. scar apologises and tells them that they can pretend it never happened, that he never said anything. grian cups his face and scar goes quiet and they finally get together. <3

[maldito-arbol]

Let’s talk about zodiacs and TPN Part 1

This is largely inspired by the fact that I talk about the characters’ zodiacs nonstop in the fanfic I’m working on for my tpn witch au, and I’ve been chortling to myself the entire time about how well some of them fit their sign and how some of them just... don’t. I’m going to simply infodump about each character, their sign, element, and some attributes they fit to a t while others don’t make sense. I will also touch on compatibility for all you shippers out there, don’t worryyy. Now this isn’t at all a critique or review of the characters themselves— I know astrology is not the first thing authors consider when choosing character birthdays, if they even do at all, this is simply me rambling about my hyperfixation and projecting onto fictional characters like we all do.

A couple last notes— one character in particular (cough cough Ray) has a different “canon” birthdate from “actual” so I’ll discuss both. Also, while I will be doing surface level research to make sure I’m not talking out of my ass, im not a professional astrologist, I’m simply a witch with an enthusiasm for zodiacs. Well then, without further ado, let’s talk about the kiddos.

Emma

Birthdate: August 22nd

Sign: Leo

Element: Fire

An overview: The funniest thing to me about Emma is that she’s literally the epitome of a Leo. Fire signs are generally very outgoing and energetic—they talk a lot and tend to be the leaders of the packs. Leos in particular are incredibly admirable and truly know their way around a conversation. If I ever wanted to get stuck in an elevator for 48 hours with no wifi or connection to the outside world and only one random stranger to talk to for the entire duration, I would pick a Leo in a heartbeat. Emma is very much the leader-type, she’s someone everyone pauses and listens to when she calls for their attention, and she always prefers to talk her way out of conflict rather than fight—but not in an underhanded manipulative way, no, Leos are very genuine with their feelings and will be upfront about their reasons for their actions.

Take this scene between Emma and Leuvis for example— this to me is about the closest to perfect of a summary of what Leos are like, and how Emma fits her sign beautifully.

She doesn’t want to fight, but she will if she has to—for the good of her friends and the good of humanity. She can stick to her ideals and yet extend a hand to the enemy anyway. This is what makes Leos such a force to be reckoned with in leadership roles.

Compatibility and ships: I know I know, this is the part you’re most excited about. I’m going to attempt to refrain from sharing my opinion on each ship itself, I will simply point out which have the highest compatibility levels. First of all, essentially all signs are most compatible with 1. Other signs of the same element and 2. Their compliment sign, their elemental opposite.

Since Emma is a fire sign, she’s generally compatible with other fire signs (Sagittarius, Aries, and of course Leo) as well as Air signs (Aquarius, Gemini, and Libra). So speaking broadly, she’s compatible of course with Norman as an Aries, as well as Ray IF he truly is an Aquarius. But if we narrow it down a little bit, I should mention that fire signs being fire signs can often clash with each other because both their energies are so high (personal experience lmao), and therefore their elemental opposite, air, are generally the way to go. Usually you’ll find on astrological charts and sites that Leos are most compatible with Geminis and Aquariuses, so Ray again if he is an Aquarius, and then we bring Violet into the picture because she’s a Gemini. (Uh, speaking as a Gemini, Leos are my favorite people to date, and I always seem to crush on them as well. I have a problem. A Leo problem.) I’m so sorry Gilemma shippers but fire and earth signs are like the worst combo, I don’t know how this happened because I love Gilemma with all my heart. The stars simply did not align for us this time

Norman

Birthdate: March 21st

Sign: Aries

Element: Fire

Overview: okay listen. I didn’t believe Norman was an Aries at first because he’s not as high energy as most fire signs, but then the more I thought about it, the more it just makes sense. The most key trait to an Aries is loyalty. They are so incredibly loyal and caring to the people they love that they often neglect themselves in the process. They can be very quick to anger if someone hurts or insults their friend, and are unafraid to start a fight or commit morally gray or even black actions in service of their loved ones. Point is you don’t mess with an Aries’ family or friends. You will get burned.

All the loyalty applies to Norman so incredibly well—the way that his plans and actions revolve entirely around Emma and Ray, and the way that he sacrifices himself for their escape even though he’s terrified of dying. But even more so this loyalty strikes you in the face when he returns as William Minerva, willing and committed to full on genocide all to keep his friends alive and safe. As I’ve said Aries are quick to anger, which seemingly isn’t very present in cool-headed, thoughtful Norman, but then you remember this:

Look at his expression. Even if he doesn’t easily lose his cool, when he does it’s terrifying. So essentially Norman is a much more subtle Aries— he’s not in your face aggressive or full of energy, but he has all the hidden signs. So yeah, I honestly can’t think of any other sign that describes him better. Norman is an Aries.

Compatibility and ships: being a fire sign and all, Norman’s compatibility is actually very similar to Emma’s. He’s compatible with other Fire signs (Sagittarius, Leo, and Aries) as well as Air signs (Libra, Aquarius, and Gemini). Speaking broadly that makes him compatible with Emma and Ray again, but narrowing it down Aries are much better in general with Libras and Leos so congrats Noremma shippers you won.

Ray

“Canon” Birthdate: January 15th

“Actual” Birthdate: February 5th

“Canon” sign: Capricorn

“Actual” sign: Aquarius

“Canon” Element: Earth

“Actual” Element: Air

Overview: alright Ray is a bit of a mixed bag to unpack. Because it’s been stated that Ray’s January 15th birthday is not his actual birthday outside of the source material, then it’s reasonable for me to count both birthdays because people have different ideas of what’s canon and what’s not. Interestingly enough though, Ray does indeed fit well enough into both the Capricorn and Aquarius signs, however I personally believe one shows through him better than the other.

We’ve been talking about fire signs for Emma and Norman so it’s finally time to dive into two other elements! We’ll start with Capricorn then, the Earth sign. The most important thing to remember is that the Earth signs are the most grounded and practical. If you want someone who can give you logical and rational advice, your best bet would be the Earth signs (Air signs are also good at this but this ain’t about them. Although you will notice some overlap in traits between these two, particularly in Capricorns and Aquariuses).

We can already see the ‘practical’ side show through in Ray by the way he hyperfocuses on taking Norman and Emma to escape but insists on leaving the other kids behind. This isn’t to say he doesn’t feel for them, on the contrary, Earth signs are indeed very in tune with their emotions and empathy, but Capricorns really know how to set that part of them aside in favor of the calm and certain route. They like tangible solutions, things they can grasp with the least amount of risk, and they’re very resistant to changes—like giant rocks. This is also noticeable in how Ray gets so very flustered by Norman and Emma’s impulsivity. He clashes with both of them because Earth signs prefer to take things slow while Fire signs just like to make a leap and hope for the best.

Note how Emma says “not that I mind...” meanwhile Ray is out here going “I MIND!!” Which we learn is because of his identity as the spy. He’s got his own plan and a tangible solution to shoot for, and Norman and his impulsivity and Emma going along with it is messing everything up. Thus, he forcibly retakes control of the situation via making a deal with Norman after the traitor is revealed. Very Capricorn stuff.

And if you want an image that just completely sums up the Capricorn in Ray, here you go:

On the OTHER hand, if we’re to go off Ray’s “actual” birthdate, which was so lovingly calculated by Tempo, then we get Aquarius Ray, the Air sign. The most important things to note about the air signs is that they’re the thinkers—the farthest from impulsive, they’re the least in tune with their emotions, and they are oh so horribly indecisive. Where Earth signs will be able to give advice that adheres to both logic and emotion, Air signs stick purely to logic. Where Earth signs are able to make calm and rational decisions, Air signs will agonize over options and often find themselves lost, searching perpetually for a solution with no cracks in it. Hello. I’m an Air sign. :’))

I’m gonna come right out and say it. I hate Aquarius men. Aquarius women and enby folks, they’re great. But Aquarius men? I may, as a Gemini, get along with them in surface level casual conversation, but behind every Aquarius man’s back is a Mal waiting to strangle him the moment I am given the opportunity. I’m so sorry Ray my son but you are not an Aquarius okay. Alright. Well, let’s just talk about the parts of him that do fit Aquarius.

So from the very start Ray is obviously a thinker, someone who considers his options very carefully before he makes a decision, and someone who hates making choices based solely on emotion. In fact, he hates expressing emotions at all. Aquariuses are very good at repressing or hiding their emotions behind other emotions (most air signs are). The most common way to do this is to put up a wall of either numbness or full-on rage. We can see both in Ray.

Instead of showing vulnerability in a healthy way, he would rather do that. Ok cool Ray.

Aquariuses can also be very quiet people, and Ray’s pretty dang quiet for most of the series too. They’re the intellectuals you know are intellectuals even though they aren’t up in your face about it. Their reserved nature makes them 10x scarier when they’re genuinely angry, because boy can an Aquarius rage.

The thing about Aquarius Ray for me here is that while Ray does indeed have Aquarius energy, it’s not the Core of Ray. To me he’s so much more of an Earth sign, so therefore I diagnose Ray with Capricorn.

Compatibility and ships: ok this is a mixed bag again. Now if you got Aquarius Ray then of course he’s compatible with other Air signs (Gemini, Libra, and Aquarius) and Fire signs (Leo, Aries, and Sagittarius), which would make him compatible with Norman and Emma for sure, as well as probably Ayshe for you Rayshe shippers because my personal HC is Aquarius Ayshe.

If you’ve got Capricorn Ray, then Capricorns are compatible with other earth signs (Taurus, Virgo, Capricorn) and their compliment water signs (Cancer, Pisces, and Scorpio), though they’re best with Cancers and Tauruses. So yes, Anna is a Taurus, which makes Rayanna a compatible pair. But guess who’s a Cancer. Don. ALL MY RAYDON SHIPPERS GET OUT HERE YOU COWARDS IM CALLING YOUR NAME. YOU WIN THE SHIP GAME.

Gilda

Birthdate: May 13th

Sign: Taurus

Element: Earth

Overview: So again with the practical and grounded Earth signs. Tauruses now, are the most stubborn of them, which can be a little irritating at times, but it’s also a great asset when you consider how reliable they truly are. They’re bulls, which makes them solid and difficult to move, and you can always fall back on them when you’ve leapt too far ahead. Gilda is of course the epitome of reliable, and her stubbornness does show through at times—like when she’s the one person against Emma going out into danger all the time, constantly trying to talk her down into a more practical and certain solution. She’s also the first to attempt to bring Emma to see Ray’s side of the escape plan, which is very earth sign of both of them good job guys.

Compatibility and ships: I know I know I’m still upset Gilemma isn’t compatible astrologically but we can talk about other Gilda ships! Tauruses are most compatible with other earth signs (Capricorn, Virgo, and Taurus) and water signs (Cancer, Scorpio, and Pisces) which makes her compatible with our other lovely Taurus, Anna! Gilanna shippers unite. But they’re best with Cancers and Scorpios, which means Gildon is is at highest compatibility.

Don

Birthdate: July 4th

Sign: Cancer

Element: Water

Overview: HEY YALL ITS TIME TO TALK ABOUT MY LEAST FAVORITE SIGNS: W A T E R. (I’m sorry my water friends, I’m sure you’re lovely, but as an air sign I am always extremely suspicious of water signs at first meeting because our compatibility is so low it might as well not exist) So the water signs are at the absolute highest emotional level. This can make them extraordinarily kind and nurturing, but it can also make them absolutely unreasonable and destructive. None is this more present than in Cancers, one of the most sensitive signs, but also one of the most empathetic. We can tell very clearly in Don that he wears his emotions on his sleeve—he’s unafraid to cry or show his anger, but he also takes very good care of his younger siblings and shows such an intense concern for them that it can become frightening.

He’s such a good boy 🥺

Compatibility and ships: okay so same drill, Cancers are generally compatible with other Water signs (Scorpio, Pisces, and Cancer) as well as Earth signs (Taurus, Capricorn, and Virgo) though their highest compatibility is with Tauruses and Capricorns. So again. GILDON AND RAYDON SHIPPERS R I S E.

God I’m so sorry if I cause a ship war. I rambled for too long and I’m very tired, so you only get these five characters for now. BUT! That’s why it’s a part 1. If you want more please feel free to harass me in my ask inbox about the characters you want me to overanalyze the signs of. Gemini out!

[seungminotes]

Charming Worries Away

Hello @n8dlesoupguk I was your skz secret santa! I had so much fun talking to you this month and you are so so sweet I wuv you now. I know this is a bit later for you because time zones boo :( but I hope you had a wonderful Christmas and enjoyed today to the fullest! Hope you enjoy this, much love. 

word count: 1.5k 

desc. / warning: hogwarts au, Gryffindor!Jisung x reader (no house specified), gender neutral

note: hope you enjoy!

It was already past the newly implaced strict curfew, but you couldn’t get the sound of Jisung’s frantic whispering of enchantations out of your head. There was no doubt the guy was practicing his charms that evening when he skipped supper in the Great Hall, without even giving you the usual heads up when he missed.

You knew his upcoming NEWTs were stressing him out as of late, his Charms exam more than any other, as expected from the forgetful boy. He’d always managed to change up spells a bit, placing emphasis on the wrong parts of words, even replacing some with awfully incorrect ones. You wish you could somehow help the troubled Gryffindor, but you knew Jisung was often too prideful to ever actually accept your help. 

Which is why you were currently tiptoeing towards the astronomy tower, exactly where he was to take his exam next week. He’d been practicing there for the past few days, figuring out mnemonic devices he could possibly use from the surroundings to little avail. He was well aware of the great possibility he had in failing this one NEWT and it slightly discouraged him in his hopes of someday becoming a great auror, like the ones he’d see on the daily newspapers the owls would drop during breakfast. Ever since his first year, he’d dreamed of becoming such a figure, having been muggle-born though, he knew there was a lot to learn. But he never thought his forgetful tendencies could ever hold him back this much. 

When you opened the creaky door to the Astronomy Tower’s roof, Jisung was sure enough hunched over his Charms notebook that you had binded the week prior, insisting that he stop lugging around and losing dozens of sheets of paper around campus. You had even offered to transcribe them into a separate book for him, worried his awful handwriting was only contributing to his trouble in remembering the right words to charms (though you hesitated in specifying this reasoning). He of course rejected your offer, adamant on getting by on his own somehow. 

“Sung,” you called. 

Jisung promptly looked up, sighing internally as his gaze was met with your glowing eyes looking down towards him. He immediately took notice of the aluminum wrapped bowl you held, surely from the kitchen you so often would sneak to this late at night with him on weekends. 

He stood to take the bowl from your clammy hands, placing it on the roof’s concrete barrier, just at his own chest height.

“It’s late,” he sighed, this time externally, heaving a deep breath after. He wouldn’t normally mind meeting up with you this late, but this wasn’t the time to be fooling around, his Charms NEWT was the very first he was to take next week, he couldn’t risk getting distracted now. 

“Benefits of a prefect in training-in-training I guess,” you shrugged before pulling out the badge given to you earlier that night. 

Jisung’s face quickly ridded itself of any signs of exhaustion and frustration, his bright gummy smile on full display at the sight. You’d wanted to be a prefect for a while now, and though he never understood why, he was suddenly so full of happiness for you, momentarily forgetting his own worries.  

He quickly pulled you into a tight embrace. 

“Sneaking out will be a lot easier now huh,” he teased. 

“I could deduct points, watch out,” you countered, causing him to scoff with a  feigned hurt face. 

Your banter soon died down from the news and Jisung’s worries suddenly came crashing down onto him once again. 

“I’m gonna fail,” he signed, still somehow maintaining a small smile from before. He knew his dream of becoming an auror was crushed if he couldn't pass this measly test. 

“So what if you do?” you stood by him, looking over the roof’s barrier over to the darkness of the Forbidden Forest

He scoffed again. “What do you mean ‘so what?’ I can’t be an auror if I fail, stupid,” he ruffled your hair harshly.

“You could always retake it you know, there’s no shame in it, but Jisung…” you began to reason, but soon trailed off not knowing how to put things into words correctly enough for this conversation to be of any help for Jisung. 

“But…” he mocked. 

“I probably couldn’t be an auror anyay, right? Are there even muggle-born aurors? Do you think I could make it?” he asked, turning his gaze towards you, surprised to meet your eyes on him again. He was letting his thoughts eat him up now and you of course knew this because Jisung would never voice out such insecurities, he was your token Gryffindor, prideful, strong, self-assured, sometimes cocky kind of Gryffindor, a poster boy for the damn house, though muggle-born. 

“Jisung, of course you can make it. You’re Han Jisung, the best seeker Hogwarts has ever seen, the ‘best Defence Against the Dark Arts student’ Snape has ever had, you’re good at everything you’ve ever touched, are you kidding me? I wish I was half as good as you with the spells you can barely cast sometimes and I’ve been in this magic shit my whole life. Are you seriously doubting yourself now, oh so prideful Gryffindor?” Your attempt at reassuring him was not a complete miss, Jisung’s heart swelled at the mention of your admiration for his skills, but that Snape comment did the trick in getting him to show off his bright smile again.

“Snape did not say that,” he laughed off. 

“Best muggle-born I’ve ever met,” you mocked in the best impression you could muster, placing that hateful emphasis on the ‘muggle-born’ as your dreaded professor so often does. 

“That’s a compliment if I’ve ever heard one, take it or leave it, that’s the best you’re getting from that grinch.” 

“I’ll make him give me a better one, one of these days,” he sighed. 

“That sounds like my Sung,” you reach over to his hand clutching his notes, gently taking them from him, unknowing of the red spreading all over Jisung’s face at your comment. ‘Your Sung’ he repeated in his head. 

“You should eat and get to bed, you’re pressuring yourself too much these days, you’re gonna jumble up your spells in there,” you playfully knock on his forehead. 

Your caring nature isn’t unusual, but for reasons unknown to Jisung at this very moment, it makes him nervous. He feels a slight bump in his throat, keeping him from voicing out his refusal at the idea of heading to bed and taking back his book, his nerves are tingling and he feels his heart speed up and his hands begin to clam up as he takes of the aluminum foil of the warm container of food, most likely charmed by you to stay so hot on such a cold night. 

You stand so close yet so unaware of the fumbling feelings of the boy standing right beside you, flipping through his notes and once again eyeing his scribbles inscribed messily with the quill he was somehow still so ill-accustomed to. 

“My offer to rewrite these still stands, you know, can you even read this?” your eyes narrow to attempt at reading a page yourself. 

“I think I can read what I write, thanks,” he awkwardly laughs off, cheeks full of rice.

“Hmmm, I think I’ll do it anyway, free of charge, you won’t even owe me anything, promise,” you insist, watching his head slightly tilt down in embarrassment. 

“Jisung, you know that I’m always willing to help you right? You don’t have to ask. I’m right here for you.” you assure him.

‘You don’t have to though,” he explains, sighing once again as he lifts the spoonful of rice to his mouth again. 

“Jisung, I want to,” you argue, firm in your words, this time clutching the boy’s arm gently, applying slight pressure to assure him of your presence. Your eyes deadpanned on his, your expression was so serious yet so vulnerable at this very moment and Jisung woud have to be stupid to not realize the implictness of your words. 

Jisung’s heart surged at the contact and he suddenly wished he would've just brushed off your offer and let you go through the pain of copying his notes for him. 

He was suddenly all too aware of your hand on his arm and the gaze you held so intently on him and the meaning of every little thing you two had ever done together. He wondered how long he’d felt these nerves for and could not pinpoint an exact moment when this increased heartbeat began to feel familiar with your touch. It could have been years ago for all he knew. His thoughts were spiraling way too fast for his comfort. 

“I want you to,” he suddenly blurted much louder than he intended to, he realized as he watched you flinch. 

“Good,” you meekly responded, taking a deep breath of relief at his anwer.

“Good,” he whispered before slightly closing his eyes with the cool breeze and sighing one more time.  

[funkyhanji]

Nuvole Bianche [English | BNHA]

Fandom: Boku no Hero Academia (@Horikoshi Kohei) Character(s): Bakugou Katsuki, Midoriya Izuku Pairing(s): BakuDeku Rating: E Word count: 3298 CWs: Fantasy AU, Established Relationship, Snowed In, Fluff and Smut, Sex, Quirks as Magic, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Barebacking, Dorks in Love, Bottom Izuku

Summary: - «Can't help it, Deku,» Katsuki says. There's the hint of a teasing tone in his voice, as if to prove the statement. «You're stupidly cute.» His spouse-to-be blushes yet his lips give way to the small grin he'd been fighting back. «… And you're stupidly handsome, Kacchan,» he whispers like it's a secret he's kept hidden all this time. -

Katsuki wills a shiver down as he steps past the cave's open entrance, tracking snow at his heels. The magic barrier they put up is thankfully holding steady to keep the cold outside; it's a flimsy solace though. His boots, socks and heavy breeches are completely soaked through; his double wool-lined, crimson cloak drags at his shoulders with the added weight of melting water. His hair sags, the blond spikes limp and frosted over.

He fucking hates winter.

He throws a glare at the inky darkness that's crept upon the mountainside in the last hour; it's barely sunset, technically, but it might as well be the dead of night already with how pitch black the world outside is. If only the weather hadn't gotten so bad so quickly, they would've been home by now. In front of a nice hearth — but alas, after so many months away from Musutafu, it seems Katsuki had forgotten how swiftly a cold but pleasant winter day could turn into a nightmarish snowstorm.

Why did we even decide to come up here?! Katsuki gripes internally, fumbling to take off his frozen leather gloves with numb hands. Right. To get away from annoying people.

He shouldn't have sent Zero up ahead to the castle in favor of hiking back down the mountain by foot. He sighs, curses as his grip on the gloves slips. Then again, the cave isn't big enough for a full grown dragon and two people, so maybe it's better this way.

A faint giggle reaches his ears, compelling Katsuki to look up and pause his struggle.

Green eyes, bright with flames gently dancing in their depths, meet his from across the stone floor. Izuku's covering his mouth with his fist, but Katsuki knows he's smiling by the way his cheeks are raised. The smattering of freckles decorating Izuku's face appear and disappear with the flickering of the fire, almost as if they're playing hide and seek — they'd never win: Katsuki has memorized each and every one —.

«How's it looking out there, Kacchan?» Izuku asks, lowering his hand so Katsuki can see the curve of his lips. He waves Katsuki over; a silent offer to help him remove his uncomfortable gear. «The wind is really strong. I can hear it through the barrier...»

Katsuki scoffs. «No shit,» he says, nearing the fire. «A gust of that motherfucking wind almost threw me off the cliff-side.» Izuku gasps, immediately launching into a worried rant; wide-eyed stare flying over Katsuki's form for any possible injury. «'M fine, Deku. Takes more than this to do me in.»

«Oh, I know, Kacchan,» Izuku laughs, at ease when Katsuki smirks his way.

Katsuki takes a seat next to Izuku, their shoulders and knees brushing as they stare into the flames in silence for a heartbeat. Then Izuku shifts, reaching out to take a hold of his hands and carefully pulling on the iced-over gloves. Katsuki turns to face him, letting the other slip the leather off one finger at a time, ever-so mindful of not using too much strength, as though Katsuki would care if he ripped the gloves.

«Whatever,» he mutters under his breath. He doesn't miss the grin on Izuku's face at that. «And the snow blocked the pass, so we're stuck in here 'till tomorrow anyway.»

«That's too bad.» Izuku looks up at him after removing the gloves and placing them near the fire to defrost. «Everyone was so excited about the pre-wedding feast! We're going to miss it...»

«That was the whole point of hiking the mountain, Deku.»

«Oh, come on, Kacchan! They're here for us, you know…!»

Katsuki rolls his eyes, idly rubbing his stiff hands together to rid them of the chill. «Doesn't mean I have to suffer through it-» he flexes his fingers, cringing when his knuckles pop with a loud crack- «not tonight at least. Tomorrow I'll have no goddamn choice.»

Wordlessly, Izuku grasps his left hand in his. He caresses his thumbs along the cold skin, slow and meticulous. He kneads the pads of his fingers into Katsuki's palm, then moves to Katsuki's own digits, massaging them from knuckle to nail; he does it once, twice, three times, over and over, until the numbness is replaced by pins and needles. Until feeling returns and Katsuki's hand is warm again. Izuku repeats the same process with his right hand.

«How's that? Better?» Izuku asks with a smile which looks even softer than usual. It makes Katsuki's heart speed up.

With the regained sensitivity, Katsuki switches now to grasp the wrist of his consort-to-be, tugging him forward. The surprised sound Izuku makes is cut off as their mouths meet in a kiss; the touch is firm but chaste, purely motivated by a simple need, a subconscious call resonating deep within Katsuki's bones telling him to be closer to Izuku. He feels a hand glide up his other arm, up, up to his neck and his jaw before it buries itself into his hair.

Or tries to.

Green eyes blink open, and in the next second Izuku's pulling back with a crease between his brows. His hand flexes a little, where it rests near Katsuki's ear, and a faint crunching can be heard coming from the hair.

«Storm froze it,» Katsuki supplies with a shrug.

«Oh...»

Izuku takes a better look at him then.

Katsuki can see that attentive gaze picking up on the slight tremble in his frame; the hunch to his shoulders and the way he's leaning toward the fire more than he would usually do — with Katsuki's temperature always running higher than most people's due to his fire-related magic, he's not one to crowd in front of direct heat sources —. He can see the furrow deepen when shining emeralds take notice of the layer of frost whitening and weighing down his clothes.

«Oh, Kacchan, sorry!» Izuku says, now concerned. Katsuki's about to retort that he's fine, but the other keeps going. «You walked around in the snow longer than me, you must be freezing! And here I was, warming up in front of the fire…! I should've went with you after all... we need to, ah, get you out of these icy clothes! Yeah!»

Izuku is fussing over Katsuki as soon as he stops talking.

He makes quick work of taking off the soaked boots and socks, placing them behind him in front of the fire pit. He hovers in Katsuki's personal space, un-clasping his cloak and sliding it off, casting a spell to have it float near the flames to dry — it's a simple incantation he'd been taught by his friend, Ochako, a gravity-specialized mage —. Izuku's scarred hands move from Katsuki's shoulders to his arms, struggling to tug the stiff leather braces down. He almost falls back on his ass when the first one dislodges from his elbow; the squeak he makes too endearing for Katsuki to repress a chuckle.

«Mean,» Izuku mutters, retaking his previous position just within the circle of Katsuki's legs.

There's a wee frown wrinkling his dark green eyebrows.

Katsuki lets Izuku take off his heavy woolen shirt, complying to the silent request to lift his arms. He waits for the other to lay it down on the stone next to the boots; he waits for Izuku to face him again. He's stubbornly trying to keep up his upset demeanor, but it's obvious he's failing from the twitch in the corner of his mouth.

«Can't help it, Deku,» Katsuki says. There's the hint of a teasing tone in his voice, as if to prove the statement. «You're stupidly cute.»

His spouse-to-be blushes yet his lips give way to the small grin he'd been fighting back. «… And you're stupidly handsome, Kacchan,» he whispers like it's a secret he's kept hidden all this time.

Katsuki finds warmth creeping onto his ears and high cheekbones. He's by no means unused to such compliments — he's been showered in praise since a young age, whether he worked hard to deserve it or not —, though he's discovered, with the passing of the years, that receiving them from Izuku never stopped his stomach from somersaulting.

He wonders if the Paladin-in-training is aware of the effect he has on him.

Izuku's palm comes to rest on his chest, above his heart, and Katsuki thinks, maybe he does know.

There's a certain reverence in the way Izuku brushes his hand over his skin, in the way he leans forward to place a kiss in that same spot. Soft, gentle. Katsuki pretends for a moment that the shiver running up his spine is the cold seeped into his limbs from his soaked clothes.

He blinks, and it feels like he's five again.

The first time he lay eyes on Izuku, his whole world had tilted on its axis the second those forest-green irises met his, full of wonder and awe. Katsuki remembers the wide-eyed stare and the cautious steps the shorter boy had taken, getting closer to him with a trembling hand extended toward his newly-pierced ears.

«Do they hurt…?» Izuku had asked, not quite touching him but hovering near one of the ruby studs.

Katsuki had been taken aback by the ethereal beauty of the creature before him; had been rendered speechless, forgetting every lecture on etiquette his parents had been trying to drill into his skull.

He'd shaken his head, grumbling. «Of course not, stupid! I'm the future King, this 's nothin'!»

Izuku had «oooh»ed and smiled, bright and full of admiration. «You're really amazing!» he'd said, cheeks flushed. «I'm Izuku! My mom and I will be living here from now on, I hope we'll be friends!»

Katsuki blinks again, coming back to the present to Izuku moving to press a peck a little higher—his green curls tickling Katsuki's chin—and higher still, one over his jaw, one below his ear.

«Kacchan,» he whispers, no more than a breath exhaled by unconscious reflex. «Kacchan.»

He doesn't have to repeat it a third time.

Katsuki's cups Izuku's face in his hands, brushes their noses together, their lips. The contact is lighter than before yet the sparks it creates are stronger, the intent behind it clear. He bridges the non-existent gap a second time, their mouths parting at the same time; tongues sliding together, slow and passionate, the kiss gaining a more intense quality.

The heat between them gradually growing with it.

Katsuki's free arm wraps around Izuku's waist, bringing him flush to his body. His palm skims the warm skin under his consort-to-be's shirt, settling at the hip and starting up a leisurely rocking. Izuku gasps into his mouth, a short moan breathed in and licked up by Katsuki's tongue. Green eyes crack open a slit to stare into crimson ones, the embers of desire coming to life inside both of them.

«Deku,» Katsuki grunts, husky and hungry.

Izuku racks his blunt nails over his nipples, breaking the kiss to bow his head and run his tongue over them, one at a time; he nips and suckles at them, teases the hardened nubs with his teeth. Izuku spurs himself on with his own whines. His hands squeeze and grope Katsuki's biceps, his shoulders, his nape; they successfully bury in blond hair. Izuku's neck bares for Katsuki — a clear invite to claim —, his jugular jumping with the wild rhythm of his heartbeat under Katsuki's kiss-swollen lips. Izuku's sighs reverberating deep within his bones as Katsuki licks a wet strip up the unblemished skin to his ears.

Izuku's hips jerk sharply when he bites the lobe, the movement slotting their erections together just right, both groaning at the friction. The flimsy barrier of their undergarments and breeches doing little to hide the growing need between them.

«Wanna fuck you so bad, Deku,» Katsuki says, voice gravely and fingers digging into the meat of his consort-to-be's rear. He knows they can't; not right now, without the necessary equipment. It doesn't stop him from craving though. «Wanna feel you around my cock.»

«Yes, Kacchan,» Izuku answers. He arches against his broader chest, his scarred hands quiver slightly as they snake down Katsuki's stomach, fumbling blindingly to undo the belt and string of the damp cotton bottoms. «Please.»

Katsuki's about to tell him it won't be doable tonight, then he notices Izuku gesturing vaguely, feels the faint hum of his innate magic at work. From the corner of his vision, he sees a small terracotta vase teetering in the air toward them. A blond eyebrow quirks in question; his stare lifts from where he's been busy playfully gnawing at a collarbone, until it meets Izuku's blushing face and hazy eyes.

He laughs, delighted and cocky.

«Someone was expecting something ta happen tonight, mh?» he teases, slapping an ass-cheek and enjoying the squeak he gets in return. «Didn't look too sad to be snowed-in-» he snatches the pot before Izuku's control slips and makes it crash on the stone floor- «this why?»

Izuku mumbles, embarrassed and unintelligible.

«Hey, I'm not complaining Deku,» Katsuki reassures, planting a chaste kiss on the other's pouting lips.

«Kacchan, please...»

«Yeah...»

Together, they shift, raising on their knees so both Katsuki's breeches and Izuku's shirt can be discarded. Katsuki then guides Izuku backward, to lay onto the dried, forgotten, forest-green cape — a match to his own crimson one, the Bakugou family crest emblazoned on it in gold; a gift he'd given the other two years prior, when he'd officially proposed to him —. He takes care to cushion Izuku's head against the fur collar and crawls into his space.

He kisses him again, tongue slipping past willing lips to wetly glide alongside Izuku's own. Katsuki moves down the pliant body beneath him, nipping and sucking marks into creamy skin dotted with dark chocolate-brown freckles; tugging and flicking dusky-pink nipples.

Izuku's undergarments are slipped off with deft fingers while Katsuki distracts him with his mouth, blowing raspberries into his stomach and grinning as his breathless pants turn into breathless laughter. A shiver runs up Izuku's spine as the colder air hits his heated skin, and Katsuki's warm hands are there to chase it away. He smooths his palms down along toned legs as far as he can reach without moving from his spot, kneads his fingers into Izuku's thighs and sides, and up his torso.

Only when the bewitching body underneath him is quaking in need, does Katsuki finally pay attention to Izuku's cock. He's hard, flushed an inviting shade of dark pink and already leaking.

«Ya look delicious Deku,» he says, smirking as he lowers himself to lewdly lick a strip of saliva over the underside of Izuku's cock. One hand around the base, the other cupping his balls gently.

«Ka— Kacch… aahn…!»

Katsuki hums, lips enclosing the head, the tip of his tongue pressing into the slit and under the foreskin. He sucks lightly, pleased to hear the choked off gasp from Izuku. Katsuki swallows him down painstakingly slow, with almost-lazy bobs of his head and flicks of his tongue, barely-there strokes and caresses with his hands — he loves torturing the other like this, the sounds he can pry out of Izuku music to his ears —. He loves feeling him squirm and cry out.

Katsuki pulls off to take a breath, snatching the vase with the lotion in the meantime, popping the cork off and settling it next to them.

«H-hurry, Kacchan…» Izuku says, staring up at him with glazed eyes, the green overshadowed by dilated pupils.

Katsuki huffs, pretending to be irritated. «Impatient, are we?» He can't blame him though, his own dick is stiff and throbbing in his undergarments, longing to feel the other's heat surround him.

He dips two fingers into the pot; the transparent, viscous lotion coats his hand when he takes them out and spreads it over his palm. Soon after, he's teasing a circle around Izuku's entrance with a slick finger. Izuku whines, writhing on the cape as he tries to make the digit slip inside; when it does, he sighs such a delighted «yesss», it resounds even inside Katsuki's chest.

«Fuck, Izuku...» he groans, leaning in to sloppily kiss him while he works his finger deeper. «'S been a while, huh.»

«Yeah… ah!» Izuku nods, his hips rocking onto the hand between his thighs.

The wedding preparations have kept them both busy for the better part of last month — the constant ebb and flow of people coming in, to teach Izuku to dance; to choose decorations and food and music. Court meetings for foreign dignitaries, training —, leaving too little time and energy to enjoy their hard-earned intimacy with nothing but cuddling and simply sleeping together.

This snowstorm has been a nice opportunity to… catch up on that.

Katsuki is as quick yet thorough as he dares. Neither of them wants to cum without being connected, but they're also coiled too tight after so long; this round isn't going to last.

He's scissoring and spreading and curling three fingers inside Izuku for what feels like hours, rubbing grounding circles on his hip with his free hand. He kisses, sucks and nips at the expanse of skin at his disposal to add sensations at odd times. He brings Izuku to a dry orgasm; he's sobbing and quaking, straining to stroke his dripping cock but Katsuki restrains his wrists with his hand.

Only then does he take out his fingers.

«Ah… haa, Ka… Kacchan— shit, please— need you in-inside...»

Katsuki's answer is a low groan. His undergarments are tossed to the side hastily; he slicks up his cock, lotion mixing with his copious precum, and lines up to Izuku's ass. He drapes the other's legs around his waist, Izuku understanding the implicit prompt to link his ankles behind his back.

Katsuki pushes in, the glide easy and painless after the generous preparation and the slackness from Izuku's previous orgasm. He bottoms out with a rasping breath, his nerves aflame.

«F-fuck,» he stutters, biting his lower lip and scrunching eyes closed in concentration. «Won't last… long, De-Deku… Fuck— ya feel so good...»

«Y-you t-too Ka— nnh!— Kacchan!»

«Shit— 'm movin'...»

Katsuki takes a breath, bracing himself as he pulls out halfway before pressing back in. The pace he sets is swift; thrusts inelegant but precise, the angle good enough for him to brush Izuku's sweet spot just right. His hips snap back and forth. Izuku arches under him, meets his thrusts with his own wild ones, bucking onto the cock pounding into him with shudders and moans and calls of Katsuki's name.

The wet slap of skin on skin is loud and lewd, a perfect counterpoint to their mingled sounds and the crackling of the fire.

«S-shit— Izu… ku— nngh!»

Katsuki's movements falter. He throws his head back with a groan, eyes squeezed tight as he buries himself deep inside Izuku, filling him up spurt after spurt. In the haze of his climax, Katsuki languidly strokes Izuku to orgasm. He grins smugly through the rush of endorphin when the other cums without even trying to take matters into his own hand.

«Kacchan...» Izuku says a minute later, breath almost back to normal and snuggled into Katsuki's chest.

«Mmh?»

«You were really pent up, a lot came out… how am I going to clean up? We don't have enough water for a bath and-and you know it gets, uhm, uncomfortable to have se-semen up there for too long so— waah!»

Katsuki cuts him off by abruptly flipping him over, hands grabbing Izuku's sides and bending down to bite at a round ass cheek.

«I'll just eat my cum and your ass out then.»

«Wha— Kacchan, no! Wait a— ah!— Kacch… oh! Oh!»

Katsuki laughs a little meanly. «You're gonna walk up the throne room and get married with a fucking limp tomorrow, Deku— 'm gonna fuck you so good.»

[lisinfleur]

Mate

Author’s Notes | Thank you for your sweetness, dear anon! I love you too!! Universe | Vikings Pairing |  Alpha! Björn x Omega! Reader Info | Werewolves AU, Vikings Age AU, requested by anon for 5CW3 Words | 1727 ⁑ Warnings: Mentions of heathenry and pagan rituals.

She came with the last refugees returning to their lands in Kattegat after his brother Ivar's defeat. Things were being rebuilt and many people that left Kattegat in the middle of the night avoiding the mad cripple king were returning, trying to retake their lost lands and restart the life. She was the daughter of an old farmer that lost everything when Ivar decided to mark and burn the ones who were against his reign. She ran away with her father but her brother was taken and burnt with the others. Disgusted, her father ended up dying and now she was coming back for his lands and legacy.

She came to the first Thing under his crown and when she came into that Hall, he knew that woman had to be his.

It wasn't like every single male in that place wasn't feeling the smell of fertility coming from her, but for him, particularly, it was stronger.

He asked her to show him personally her lands, but he knew he would give her Kattegat entirely if she wanted. Surely, he would put the queen's crown in her head, it was right in his head.

The fact is: his head is not the real world.

Of course, she noticed his interest. Of course, she noticed he was her mate as much as Björn noticed this by himself.

But it's not fun without a challenge. It's not an alpha without a conquer. She was stubborn like his own mother and maybe this is what was attracting him so badly in that female: she wasn't easy.

He thought his life would be easier, like his brother's life was being with his last mate Torvi: some few words exchanged, moments together and now he was there, starting to work in his first offspring with her, an already well-proved beta that would give him strong children. But she wasn't like the others.

Y/N was putting on a fight dignified of her value.

He gave back her father's lands. He bought back her cattle. He gifted her with slaves and earned her heart by showing her he was more than just a king but a man who knows very well there is more than just wearing a crown involved in ruling over people.

Under his reign, Kattegat was once again a huge trading center and the people were once again feeling the peace of Ragnar's old reign.

During the day, he would solve the people's problems and deal with the plans of reconstruction for the city, but the nights, after the work was done, he was picking his horse and going back to her farm, to spend a peaceful time by her side and try again for her acceptance.

"Why do you reject my court, Y/N?" he asked, sitting by her side near the fireplace.

Caresses being exchanged in between the two bodies laid together at the soft rug made of fur, his fingers sliding through her hair and waist, her lips kissing his neck softly, with tenderness.

"I don't," she answered, kissing again, making a small trail of little warm kisses through his neck to his face, nuzzling her nose against his cheek.

"Then be my wife..." he said and Y/N smiled, softly caressing his face.

"And bear my children, I know what you'll say," she completed, getting a deeper look from his blue eyes. "I'm not ready for children, Björn. Nor one, neither the litter you'll surely fill my womb with. I'm not a beta like Torvi. And I can feel the smell of our mating. I'm your mate, Björn. If we lay down together, you'll surely fill me with child." she said, tenderly showing him her fears.

"Why are you afraid of this, my love?" Björn asked, sitting by her side and helping her to get herself comfortable, sitting in a way they could properly look at each other. "You're the most fertile omega from the whole Kattegat and never I saw an omega as strong as you are. I thought Hvitserk had a good omega with him, but Thora is not half of who you are," he said, caressing her face.

And she sighed.

"And she's already with child. Twins in her belly," Y/N said, kinda scared "My mother died this way, Björn. And she died carrying my brothers to Hella with her. Both of them. For my father was greedy and wanted more from his wife, Hella punished him and took from him the mate and their children. I don't want this for us, Björn. I love you... I don't want Hella to take me from you for our greedy for the many children I'll surely bear if we lay together".

There it was.

A pretty comprehensible reason for her to avoid him so bad.

Björn sighed. He couldn't blame Y/N for her thoughts and fears. Instead, he took her into a soft embrace, trying to give her some safety.

"Do you wanna be my wife, Y/N?" he asked, looking at her "Despite this fear, do you wanna bear my children?"

She raised her face to look at him directly.

"I love you, Björn. And as much as you, I can feel our bond. My wolf craves for yours and I wanna be your wife more than anything in my life. But I'm afraid," she confessed.

And so, Björn's eyes changed into something full of courage.

"Once my father was told he should wait for three days and three nights before laying with his second wife. Or else, she would bear him a monster. My father refused to listen and Aslaug gave birth to Ivar. A sick child who became a monster not only in his greatness but also in his cruelty," he started, catching completely Y/N's attention "Once your father was greedy for more children, and your mother paid the price for his greedy with her life and her children's life Hell claimed to herself," he continued, looking at Y/N's eyes "Now it is my turn to defy the gods for what I want more than anything in this life."

Y/N shivered listening to his words. A part of her feeling immensely aroused for his audacity. Her reason screaming Björn was doing something extremely dangerous and treacherous.

"Bound to me now," he said, looking straight into her eyes, "Marry me tomorrow under the eyes of the gods. But I shall not touch you or make you mine until your first heat after your marriage. In the higher day of your first heat as my wife, I shall claim you and then, the gods will give me their answer about our bound."

"This is not fair." she said, pointing a flaw in his oath "I'm fertile! I'm an omega and you're an alpha! If you claim me in my higher day of heat, I shall get pregnant anyway and so you can't tell me the gods want us to be together or blessed us with the pregnancy!" she said.

But Björn smiled.

"So, if they want us to be together... They shall deny me your womb in your first heat."

Y/N's eyes became wide, surprised with his clever bet.

"As you said, there is no way for you not to be with child after this day. But if we do as we say and yet you bleed, then the gods are telling me it's their will to keep us together. And you shall bear my children without the fear Hella will take you from me. However, if you get pregnant in this first try, then I shall never touch you one more time and you shall never bear me any more children, for I won't be greedy as your father and my father were and I will choose your life over my own needs."

Y/N stopped a moment to think.

Before the pregnancy that took her life, her mother gave birth to two healthy children and raised them until almost adults... So as Björn's stepmother: before Ivar, she bore three healthy sons for his father, without a single miscarriage!

And Aslaug was an omega... Like herself.

As a sign of her trust, Y/N eyes turned amber and she looked at Björn, allowing her wolf to speak for her, calling his through the bound they shared with each other.

"I agree with your terms, Ironside. I accept your bound and your bite over me," she said, exposing her neck, causing Björn to feel the shivers of frisson running through his body with his wolf's arousal.

He came closer, touching her neck with his lips, kissing the spot to be marked in her neck, smelling the scent of her skin causing her to softly moan with his proximity.

Her submissive reactions calling his wildness when he allowed his wolf to take over, sinking his fangs in her neck, biting and marking her as his mate, receiving a small and low moan of pleasure from her lips near his ears.

Soon, Björn could feel her delicate bite in his spot as well, and that warmth filled both of them as if their bodies were one and their wolves were finally feeling one another.

Björn couldn't explain the sensation of totality, the pleasure and the feeling of having her finally bounded to him.

Some small licks and the wounds were closed in their necks, however, Y/N insisted in keep licking the spot, spoiling her mate with a warm caress. The need for an omega from being near, touching her mate, so present, so clear in his beloved.

She was everything and now, she was his for real. Björn nuzzled his nose to her neck and her face, exchanging a deep and tight kiss with his now claimed mate.

However, the more he was aroused and his body was asking for the consummation of that bound, he restrained himself to a single kiss and touched his forehead with hers.

"I'll hold myself. And fate is launched. May the gods allow me to be yours and bless our union, my love".

"May the gods be with us... For I want your children, I want you by my side, I wanna be yours!"

The fate was launched and he would wait. But something in Björn's heart was telling him he was right. In all his life, the only thing he never regrets was trust in the gods.

It wouldn't be different now.

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The Day Laika Came Back

Link to ao3

Note: This is an experiment to see if posting my fanfictions in both tumblr and ao3 is worth it. If this publication gets to at least 50 notes (not counting self-reblogs) in the following 3 weeks I will start posting my future fics in tumblr, otherwise I will stick to only publishing in ao3.

Summary:  Jon Kent comes back from space, years older and unable to believe he made it home. But coming back to the life he left won’t go as smoothly as he wished it did.

Jon can’t help it, he has to stare. Everything is so new and nostalgic at the same time, like a dream he’s had every single night for years and years and only now can clearly remember. It doesn’t feel real, the trees, the sky, as if someone took the string of memories he barely could hold, those precious, faded images he was starting to doubt if ever even happened and knitted a world out of it, colorful and lovely and solid. The final sentences from a poem he could barely recall, suddenly coming together into something he can hold.

It’s too good to be true and it makes the back of his neck ache, hurt and burn with that sense of dread crawling all over his shoulders, like subconsciously he knows any moment now the universe will pull him by the hair and throw him back into the darkness of space like a rag doll, like it all will dissolve if he so much as reaches to pick up a flower and he will be forced to admit what he’s been fearing for a long time now, that this never existed and the infinite void and the rocky prison is his only real place, that he appeared there and will roam there and will die there and all there is is there and there and there and nothing else than there and all those memories he holds so dear are just a bad joke, a carrot dangling in front of a horse to keep it walking; A plastic carrot.

But right now, he isn’t there. He’s here. And it’s real and true and alive and he can’t help but to look at everything with very round wide eyes like a baby who was just born. Drinking all around him like a man who’s been in the desert a decade and a half and will die if he doesn’t drink all the water in the world.

It happens all too quickly, the arrival, the fighting, confusion, questions, answers, kind words, harsh words, words, words, words all around, all in English, not kryptonian or other alien language but his mom’s tongue. He keeps it together through all that and puts a brave face on, and then when no one but his parents are watching and it’s all over he cries on his dad’s shoulder and his mom’s arms are around him and Jon shakes and chokes and laughs.

Time passes, seconds, hours, it’s not even been four days when a lot of people congregate around him. They ask more questions and he gives more answers and they demand proves and tests and argue and discuss and through all that he can’t help but to pass his eyes over their faces and almost gasp when he sees anything vaguely familiar. Dad’s friends, dad’s coworkers, that one’s wonder woman, that one’s a green lantern, that one’s this, this one’s that, that, those, these, and then his eyes rest on someone he thought he would never see again and if he thought his eyes couldn’t widen more, well, he was wrong.

He’s shorter than Jon remembers and he also got a bit wrong the length of the hair, but the costume, that’sexactly as he pictured it in his mind all these years, from the boots to the cape to the utility belt, he got it all right.

Damian has his eyes very open just like Jon, he can notice it even with the mask, and suddenly he really wishes he could take it off, to see his eyes. He can’t remember if they were green or blue.

He’s stuck there, being hit once again with the amazing, ecstatic thisisrealimherenotthere feeling, just going over his friend’s features, burning the image in his mind, and then Damian bites his lips and looks away like someone slapped him and it comes crashing down.

…Ah.

His dad will always be his dad, and his mom his mom, but he never… Well, he did, but not really, not seriously, he never… Actually thought how it would be for everything else.

Because, well, it makes sense, he's… He isn’t the same as when he left, he took too long coming back and now. And- And probably if he had taken one or two, maybe even three years that wouldn’t be much of a difference, maybe, but he's… He probably doesn’t look at all like his younger self.

And… It hasn’t been that long here. And now he thinks about what it must be like, what it would be like for him as a kid, and he realizes a lot of people probably won’t see him as himself. Won't… It will be more like this eleven years old just dissipated in thin air and a randomadult that just so happens to share his name appeared in his place and those two only have the most tiniest of connections and that one time when he met that older version of Damian and himself he didn’t actually think of them as them , did he? Not as…

He keeps looking at the ground for the rest of the Justice League meeting, and when everyone starts to leave he doesn’t notice Damian walking towards him until he speaks.

“Jon.”

He feels like jumping out of his own skin. He looks up, and then down, because Damian is short and a kid. And Jon isn’t, not anymore, and then Damian starts to open his mouth to say something but Jon doesn’t want to hear it, he doesn’t, because if there’s another thing he remembers of his best friend is that he’s mean, good intentioned and warm, a really good person once you know him, but also oh so damn harsh, and he usually could deal with that and see the real meaning lurking under his words but right now he’s tired, beaten and in the middle of a life crisis and can’t, doesn’t want to and won’t deal with it. So he bails. He just walks out and leaves him there, half a word out of his lips, he then goes back to his dad’s side and absconds from the encounter.

Some time passes, he settles, and doesn’t get in contact with anyone. Because it would hurt, right? He already proved he can’t face Damian; Kathy would either cry or smile and act like it’s fine, but he doubts she will see him as her friend and not a shadow of someone she knew; And he can’t actually tell any of his school friends… He’s ashamed to admit, he doesn’t really remember half of them.

So he stays in Metropolis and thinks what to do. He can’t just retake school where he left it, he will most likely have to work on getting a GED. He can’t hang out with people he knew, not now that he’s so different. He doesn’t think he will leave to do anything in space as long as he lives. And he doesn’t feel like looking for a job. So he stays with his parents dear Rao he missed them and throws himself into fighting crime, perfectly and completely, until it’s almost like he doesn’t have a civilian identity anymore. It makes for a good distraction, but there’s the risk of running into people he knows.

He thinks Damian is doing it on porpoise, working near Metropolis, sometimes in Metropolis, be it alone or with his Teen Titans team. He runs into him a couple of times, Damian’s heart beats real fast when it happens, and then he always tries to force him into talking when the fight is over, but Jon just keeps looking to the ground and running away. It must make him look like a jerk, hell, he feels like a jerk, but he can’t face it, the ‘you aren’t my Jonathan Kent’ he just knows is coming.

He’s walking through the city, pulling at his civilian shirt as he runs an errand for his mom. It feels like a costume, he wonders if normal clothes ever felt this fake as a kid, he can’t remember.

Suddenly, there’s a heartbeat in the crowd, a fast one he recognizes, moving right at him.

He tries to escape like the coward he is, but he can’t show his powers in public, and he doesn’t want to just walk over someone. Jon tries finding a place hidden from sight so he can take flight and disappear like always, but just as he’s entering an alley there’s a little hand firmly around his wrist and judging by how much force he’s applying there’s no real way he can get rid of Damian without tearing one of his fingers off.

It must look funny, the image of this young adult all but cornered by a tiny runt, looking like he’s going to pass out as he avoids looking at his face. It doesn’t feel funny, but, Jon thinks, it probably looks funny for someone else.

“Why are you ignoring me?!” Damian yells, his fingers hard enough against Jon’s skin that his nails turn white. “No, not only ignoring! Why are you avoiding me?!”

The accusation makes Jon flinch because, well, because it’s completely true. He forces himself to look at Damian’s face. His eyes are teal, so he was half right.

“Why do you think?” Is all he can say. Because really, it should be obvious, right? He isn’t the same person, barely remembers who he used to be. If he met a younger version of himself today, Jon’s afraid he couldn’t prove him they’re the same person.

The moment they talk for more than ten seconds Damian will realize he isn’t who he remembers and will lose all interest in him, maybe will even blame him for his loss, like he personally murdered the kid to occupy his place. No one shows it, but they’re just thinking of him as a bad copy, aren’t they?

“Tt.” Damian’s jaw tenses and his heartbeat skips a beat. “Of course.” He frowns really hard and then lets Jon’s wrist go. He doesn’t waste much time into flying away.

He doesn’t see him for a while. Damian stops invading his city and he doesn’t even hear of Robin for two or three months. Jon tries not to feel sad about it, but truth is the attention felt nice.

Around four months later there’s an alien invasion. The whole league joins to fight it and Jon helps too.

He’s fighting in the front lines, punching alien after alien after alien, when he hears a familiar scream and turns his head right on time to see Robin get hit and fall to the ground. The one who attacked has their weapon pointed at him.

Jon is there in less than a second, his eyes red as he stands between Damian and the other guy. Jon isn’t sure why, maybe it’s because he just recovered all this life and is still half expecting to lose it, maybe it’s because he hasn’t had someone he cares about actually being in danger in forever, or maybe realizing he’s the older one now is getting to him more than he first thought, but there’s just this surge of protectiveness running through his veins that builds up and comes out in a “Don’t touch him!” That resembles more an animalistic growl than human speech.

It’s over quickly, a leap and a well aimed hit is all it takes. He’s next to Damian before he even realizes. He offers to help him stand up but Damian slaps his hand away.

“I don’t need your help, don’t treat me like a kid.”

“Stop being so fucking stubborn, you could have died!” Damian’s heart jumps at that, for a moment Jon doesn’t know why, and then realized it’s because he isn’t used to hearing him swear.

The feelings of the last couple months come back but he pushes that aside, the middle of a war zone is not the time to worry about his interpersonal drama.

Damian tries to get up and then trips, Jon’s there to catch him and then looks what’s the problem with his X-RAY vision. He’s got a broken leg, a bruised rib and some injuries on the left arm. He probably won’t be able to walk unassisted right away.

“Here, let me…” He moves to pick him up and Robin, surprisingly, doesn’t put up any resistance. Jon doesn’t even need to use more than one arm to fit him, Damian’s so damn tiny.

“Put me down.”

“No.”

He looks around. The battle’s almost over, but there’s still people fighting and shots firing up nearby. Jon trusts the others to hold up without him for a while and starts flying towards safety.

“Just let me down, I can wait until Father comes for me.”

“Yeah, no. I’m not taking any risks.”

“You shouldn’t be wasting time with this, you and Superman are our biggest hitters.”

“You’re important too.”

“…Why?”

The word comes soft and broken, and it makes Jon pause mid air. He looks down, at the boy in his arms. Damian isn’t looking at him as he holds a handful of his red cape.

“Because you’re my best friend.” The words come easier than he would have thought, like they were just waiting to leave his mouth. Damian lets go of the fabric and then looks at him, his face a mirror of the expression he had when Jon just came back.

“But I thought…” He trails off. Jon resumes moving and after a while Damian speaks again, barely a whisper “Then why have you been avoiding me? I… Thought you didn’t want to see me.”

“I guess that’s a normal conclusion to get to.” He mutters, because, well, it is. Why is he so damn clumsy with people? Sometimes it’s as if his mere existence was hurting those around him. “But, no, that’s not why.”

“Then why?!”

This is the point on the conversation that Jon would chicken out and disappear, but he can’t do that while carrying the person he’s talking to. So he takes a deep breath and conjures all the guts he can get. “I didn’t think you would like the person I’m now.”

A beat of silence, a pang of anxiety, and then “You’re really an idiot if you thought that.”

Jon laughs, there’s no other answer he can give to that, he laughs and ever so slightly holds Damian a bit closer. They stay in silence the rest of the trip, and soon he’s leaving his friend at the safe edge of the battle field.

He starts turning around, ready to go back, when he feels those little fingers around his arm.

“Jon.” Damian’s voice is calm and steady, but his heart is going fast and filled with adrenaline. “You haven’t changed at all.”

It’s the first time Jon’s heard that. It’s been months since he made it home, and it’s the first time he hears that sentence. Those words go to stab him right on the chest, and he has to look away and bring a hand to his face to clean the tears that are peeking from his eyes.

“Yeah.” He nods, not sure what he’s agreeing to. Damian smiles and his fingers release him. “After this… Can we hang out?”

“Do you really need to ask?!” Damian huffs, and then, softer. “We have a lot of catch up to do.”

“You have no idea.” He laughs again, Jon thinks this is the most he’s laughed ever since that reunion with his parents.

As he leaves to re-enter the battle, he hears behind him a “Come to the manor later, we can play video games and you can see Titus and Alfred again!” He stops just long enough to wave, and then flies into the war zone.

Jon thinks, for the first time in a long while… That things are going to work out just fine.

[mintchocolateleaves]

Flare Up (4/5)

A/N: I have a really big love for the Fever Pitch AU universe. I keep thinking of ways to extend it, so maybe after I finish the prequel, I’ll continue with it, making this a little longer. Who knows?

[Ch 1]    [Ch 2]    [Ch 3]

Kouta does not let go of Izuku until they reach the hospital.

From the moment the paramedics arrive, leading the two of them into the ambulance, Kouta latches on to Izuku and does not let go. Much like a limpet against a rock. Even after the paramedics attach them to ECG monitors, glancing at the rhythm of their heartbeats.

The minute the wires are off, ECG taken, the boy relaxes a little, although he remains rooted to Izuku’s side.

“It’s okay Kouta,” Izuku mumbles, sitting beside the boy. So far, they’ve not been able to get in contact with his parents, have been incapable of getting any information out of the boy on the topic of them. “We’ll be in the hospital soon.”

“I’m cold…” the child says, grip tight on Izuku’s sleeve. He’s close to passing out from the cold, but somehow the boy stays awake. Almost as if he’s determined to stay awake long enough to cause enough trouble that the paramedics give up trying to pry him away from Izuku’s side.

Izuku glances at the boy, at the heat packs that are placed around them, aimed at rising their body temperature at a stable rate that doesn’t cause further damage and thinks.

“I know,” he says, grabbing one of the packs from where it’s pressed against his neck, and leaning towards Kouta. He says, “here, have this, it’ll help warm you up a little more.”

Kouta looks up at him, blinks.

Then, the child takes a quick look towards one of the paramedics, the man focusing on recording all the information while they drive to the hospital.

“I already have some,” Kouta whispers, as if afraid they’ll be scolded. “Anyway, you need them too, you’re cold as well, right?”

Izuku shrugs his shoulders. The movement is slow, mainly because his body feels like ice, but Kouta needs it more than him. He says, “I’m only giving you one more, that’s alright, isn’t it? I still have a few more.”

Kouta, perhaps realising that he’s fighting a losing battle, accepts it without another word. He remains quiet until the ambulance stops, doors opening to reveal the lights of the hospital, the accident and emergency room inside.

Their destination.

“Come on Kouta,” Izuku says, as their paramedic stands, looking over at the two of them, “we need to go in now.”

The child doesn’t seem to want to move from his perch on Izuku. And so, not minding too much, Izuku lifts him into his arm, nodding as the paramedic comes closer.

“Can I take this out now?” Kouta says, as Izuku stands, pointing up to the nasal cannula that’s feeding oxygen into his nose. It’s a precaution, Izuku knows, to ensure that they can keep breathing properly, that they’ve not swallowed too much water that it’d lead to respiratory issues and low oxygen levels.

Izuku glances towards the paramedic, waits for an answer. At the sight of a shaking head, he says, “just a little longer. Let’s make sure we’ve got them until the doctor’s say we can take them off, okay?”

The child offers a nod. “It’s itchy, though.”

“Isn’t it?” Izuku says, and laughs. The laugh leaves him breathless, and it hurts, but he’s happy, so he supposes that it weighs out the pain, makes it worth it. “Hopefully we’ll get rid of them pretty quickly, right Kouta?”

Kouta nods.

And together they enter the hospital.

-

His mother arrives before they see the first doctor.

Midoriya Inko arrives in a flurry, a pink bag over her shoulder filled with goodies she thinks Izuku – and Kouta as soon as she learns of his existence – would enjoy while they wait to be seen. She brings a change of clothes, something Izuku takes gratefully, glad not to be wearing gowns that the hospital had handed him and Kouta to wear.

“Oh, Izuku,” his mother says, as soon as he’s changed, finally taking the time to wrap him in her arms. She squeezes, not enough that it leaves his still chilled bones aching, but enough to be comfortable. “You keep throwing worry after worry at me.”

He sits then, readjusts the cannula feeding him oxygen.

“Sorry,” he says, as his mother sits on his other side. And then, he waves a hand to his side, “this is Kouta. We’ve decided to hang out together until his guardian gets here. Haven’t we Kouta?”

The child nods his head, hand clutching even harder onto his sleeve. “Is she your…”

He fades off, glancing up at Izuku.

“I’m Izuku’s mother,” Inko says, getting the words in before Izuku can introduce her. She offers a smile, “thank you for looking after my son, he’s always getting himself in different sorts of trouble.”

It’s about at this time, Izuku thinks, that his mother realises what’s happened. Both Izuku and Kouta are wearing the same heat packs, both covered in blankets in the aim to regain the heat the freezing ice had stolen from them. And she knows her son, she puts the pieces together.

And so with a sparkle in her eye, she makes a mistake on purpose. To Kouta, she leans forwards, ruffles his hair and says, “thank you for saving my son. You must have been very brave.”

Izuku sends her a smile, watches as Kouta grins and shakes his head. He says, “No! Izuku saved me!”

“Well,” Inko says, “I bet you’re still extremely brave.”

-

After about an hour, they finally track down the child’s guardian.

Not a mother, or a father – but another relative: His aunt. Except it’s not that easy for him to decipher who it is at first, seeing as one moment Kouta is alone, and the next he is surrounded by an entire hero team.

Izuku does not need to see them in their uniforms to recognise the Pussycats. He simply holds in a breath – probably not the best thing to do, seeing as he’s on oxygen for a reason – and watches everything pan out.

“Kouta!” The one that throws herself in front of the others is the super hero Mandalay. “Oh god, when you didn’t come home I started phoning everyone! I’m so glad you’re okay!”

Kouta finally let’s go of Izuku’s sleeve.

He stands, throws himself at his aunt, and bursts into tears. It’s not until the rest of the pussycats wrap him in a hug also, that the child finally speaks through the sobbing, hiccupping on words.

“I was so scared, the water was just there, and I couldn’t breathe, and I thought – I thought–” Kouta shudders a breath, “but then Izuku grabbed me and he gave me his coat because I was cold and he said it was okay to cry and–”

The child continues to ramble. He doesn’t seem to realise that Izuku and his mother are there any more, not until the doctor calls Izuku’s name, and he stands, ready for to be seen. At last.

Hospital waits are so long, Izuku can’t help but feel a little irritation at the system.

“Izuku!” Kouta turns almost as if his ears are tuned into his movements, “where are you going?”

“Just talking to the doctor for a moment,” he says, “I’ll be back in a minute, alright?”

Kouta hiccups his protest, but after a few words of consolidation from his aunt, he finally seems to accept that Izuku needs to be seen to as well. But demanding as he is, he makes sure he gets the words he needs to say out first. Prying out from his aunts grasp, he rushes up to Izuku and tugs on his trouser leg.

“I don’t like heroes much, Izuku,” he says, and now his cheeks redden, embarrassment at what he’s about to say shining through. “But I like you.”

Izuku smiles. He says, “I like you too, Kouta.”

As he’s walking towards one of the clinical rooms, he can hear Mandalay’s voice clear in his head, almost as if it were his own.

With her quirk, she says: I’ll never forget this. Thank you for saving Kouta.

-

(After they remove the liquid that’s settled in Izuku’s lungs, they declare him in fit health.

Izuku leaves with a smile, a phone number for a heroes agency should he ever need their help, and a promise from a little boy, that he’ll see him again, but next time, in a first aid class.)

-

Like he promises himself, Izuku finishes the child safety class. It brings him a little more understanding on the situation he’d been in before, and well – it makes him feel a little more confident with the concept of rescuing children again if he needs to.

After that, there’s only so many more courses he can do regarding first aid, only a healthy living course before he’s qualified in them all. It feels terrifying, the concept of being done with all his lessons, so Izuku finds himself volunteering, giving aid to the junior first aiders, the children who’re learning.

Every Tuesday evening, Izuku waves at children – tries not to show any favouritism to Kouta, and usually fails – slowly teaching them how to clean wounds and how to apply plasters. For the slightly older members, Izuku teaches CPR, the right arm movements and directions to make sure you can keep someone alive.

Between classes, counselling, villain sites and volunteering, Izuku’s pretty much got no time for anything else.

(Well, maybe the occasional movie night with some of the friends he’s made in first aid courses, but mostly there’s no time.)

It’s enough, and Izuku is content… mostly. There’s still something that weighs on him, and soon, after a brief conversation with his mother, trying to get her to understand, he pulls a trick he probably wouldn’t if he wasn’t confident in his current grades.

He starts to miss classes. Not to an extent where he’s left worrying about whether he’ll pass the year, wondering whether he’ll need to retake, but enough that he’s left studying until early morning to catch up.

Izuku trades classes for villain sites. The moment he hears of anything, on his way to school, or anywhere in the same vicinity as his school, he leaves classrooms behind and settles into the regular bustle of pulling people from buildings, helping stem blood flow.

He gets used to making eye contact with villains and heroes alike, grows comfortable with telling people no whenever they tell him to stop putting himself in danger.

It makes him feel more… calmer. More mature, even.

Seeing things that most people will never see in a lifetime, it’s horrible and leaves him gasping for air some nights, but Izuku also values it. He takes the face of each person he saves, holds them close and remains upbeat, because they’re alright because of him.

He wonders how happy he’d feel as a hero. If he’s this happy right now, then as soon as he’s got a hero’s license, he imagines he’ll reach a feeling of almost… euphoria.

-

“All-Might!”

Perhaps it’s a testament to how far he’s come in the past few years, but Izuku, a second-year high school student, doesn’t even hesitate anymore whenever he sees All-Might. Where before he would stumble over his words, he simply remains calm these days talking to the man.

People turn, glancing around for a sight of the man. Izuku winces as he realises that the man is not currently in his hero form, having transformed back into his… true… form following an altercation with a villain.

Izuku rushes up to the number one hero, offers a small wave and glances down at his shirt. There’s blood on it, which sucks but he’d managed to stem the bleeding of a cut femoral artery on a villain just in time for the paramedics to arrive.

The success rate of the villain isn’t the highest, but it’s more than zero thanks to Izuku, and he classes it as a win.

All-Might turns to him, with the same pursed lips and offers him a nod. He says, “young Midoriya. You’re… present again.”

Izuku offers the man his brightest smile.

“Well…” All-Might lets out a sigh, as if knowing warning Izuku away is a poor idea. They’ve met several times now, and every warning comes with another dismissal. “Thank you for the hard work.”

Izuku flushes. But still, the compliment feels subpar at best. He wants All-Might to acknowledge him, for once, even though he doesn’t know how to go about seeking the man’s approval.

“No injuries this time?” All-Might continues. And then a pause. “Wait – shouldn’t you be in class?”

Crossing his arms, Izuku decides this is another one of the things he doesn’t want to go into with his hero. “Shouldn’t you be teaching a class?”

All-Might’s lips are practically a thin line. For a moment Izuku can see how tense the man’s body is, as if this conversation is something the man’s focusing entirely on – either that, or he’s spent a lot of time thinking things over.

“This is the sixth time you’ve administered first aid this month,” the hero says, and he runs a hand through his hair, tugging at his bangs. Izuku feels almost honoured to know that his favourite hero is keeping an eye on him, watching and remembering how many times Izuku’s been present. “This can’t be very good for your grades, you’re missing classes.”

Okay, being scolded is not what Izuku wants right now.

“I can handle classes,” he says, “I’m still top of my class, and I attend class often enough that I’m able to finish the year.”

He does not mention the tears that fill his eyes when he grows frustrated with himself, unable to answer questions without all too expensive textbooks that he’s had to dig into his savings to purchase.

All-Might hums. Whether it’s in agreement or disapproval, Izuku isn’t sure.

-

“I was watching the sports festival last week,” Izuku mentions, at the next scene, treating All-Might this time, bandaging the heroes arm from where the hero had saved a child by taking the brunt of falling glass from a window.

There are cuts on his arms, not deep enough to require stitches, but bad enough that Izuku holds gauze against the skin until he’s certain the blood has clotted.

All-Might glances at him and says, “it was an interesting turn out. I was glad to watch the underdog win this year.”

Izuku offers a smile, “they’ve all got such great potential, and it’s really starting to shine.”

“Yes,” All-Might says, nodding. He smiles, and Izuku can see it in the heroes eyes, the pride he has for his students, the way he seems to value those he’s helped train. “They’ll all make great heroes once they graduate.”

“As will I,” Izuku says, once he’s finished with the bandage. He leans back, offers a grin. “You’re all done.”

The number one hero breathes another sigh. For a moment, he seems to ponder on asking him a question, but it’s not until Izuku questions it, that he decides to ask.

“Why are you trying to convince me about becoming a hero, young Midoriya? You don’t need my approval to become such.”

Izuku turns away, glances at the rubble from fallen buildings and steels himself. Steely-eyed and determined, he keeps his voice level as he responds. He says, “because you’re the one who told me I couldn’t.”

-

It is just as he’s about to enter his third year of high school that everything goes wrong.

Izuku comes home to a sobbing wreck of a mother, and he holds her as he looks around the house, at the emptiness of it, the wreck that it is. There’s been no villain attacks, no, but they’ve been robbed.

His mother looks up at him, breathes out a sigh and says, “I’ve already phoned the police.”

The house is too empty, Izuku feels almost as if there’s enough room for the ghosts of old memories to move in without making things feel overcrowded.

“It’s okay,” Izuku says, sitting her down onto the table. Anything that seems like it would sell has been taken. Drawers and cupboards have been left open, contents splayed everywhere in a search for anything valuable.

“We can’t–” His mother breaks off. “We can’t afford this Izuku. The government stopped giving compensation for thefts like this when they started giving compensation out for victims of villain attacks…”

“It’s going to be alright,” Izuku says. “We’ll find the money. I’ll get a part-time job or… or…”

Izuku scrunches his eyes shut, takes in a deep breath and says, “we’ll use the savings account you’ve been keeping for university.”

His mother looks up at him, wide-eyed. She shakes her head, “Izuku, I can’t do that. We won’t be able to afford your medical school bills–”

He swallows. Another dream he probably won’t get to see fulfilled. No. Izuku’s not giving up on this so easily.

“Use it,” Izuku says, “use the money. I’ll… I’ll study hard and get in on a scholarship or something. Just, use the money.”

Inko looks at him, realises that asking again will only receive the same answer, no matter the pained look on his face, and nods. She says, “ok. I’ll – we’ll have to buy some more textbooks to help you ace every exam.”

Izuku nods.

Almost as if she knows that Izuku needs a moment to himself, his mother stands, brushes her hands on her trousers and excuses herself, saying she’s going to go see if the police have arrived yet.

Izuku buries his head in his hands.

He takes in a deep breath.

And he lets the frustration he’s feeling well up in his eyes, lets the tears fall.

-

[Next Chapter]

[akaluan]

I *grin* to myself every time I picture just how dumbfounded the shinigami must be when they realize that Erich is a quincy - more then that, a terribly strong quincy, who is at LEAST captain-level. They're - for a terribly long time, the quincy were gone, fairytales, and the only 'quincy' they knew firsthand was Uryuu - who was strong, yes, but not exactly a THREAT. (They were pretty sure they could take him). But Erich - well. He's strong. And they're not sure they could take him.

The younger Shinigami are more confused than anything; based on Rukia’s reaction to what Uryuu is, the Quincy aren’t really spoken about much at all anymore, except maybe as tall tales, and REALLY, Uryuu doesn’t… match much of any of them? He’s young and dramatic and prone to Teenage Shenanigans, but he’s not evil or out to kill all of them or trying to destroy the worlds, so the younger Shinigami just chalk the legends up to, well… /legends/ and move on with life.

(They can take Uryuu, they know they can. It might take a Lieutenant or higher to do so, but he’s just a fallible kid without much experience or training. If the legends turn out to be true? Well, they’re really not worried.)

So Erich… the younger Shinigami don’t really associate him with anything bad, per-se. Yeah, he’s older, and better trained, and more powerful, but that happens with age and experience. And of /course/ if a young, Living teenager is a Quincy, there MUST have been other Quincy around at /some/ point. But they still don’t think too much of it; Erich seems unwilling to fight unless threatened, and generally willing to just… stay in the Living World and mentor Uryuu and the other teens.

There’s something a little /wrong/ about Erich doing that — he’s dead, after all, and the dead belong in Soul Society — but… they’re not going to challenge the man who’s under Urahara’s protection in order to tell him to go BACK to Soul Society.

(Besides, the younger Shinigami think, maybe Erich can teach the teens some control and discipline. They certainly need it.)

(They still think they can take him, not seeing Erich’s quiet, his /stillness/ as a threat. He’s powerful and controlled and dangerous, but he’s not /deadly/, they think to themselves, mistaking Erich’s desire to remain out of the spotlight as weakness. It might take a Captain or two, but they can take him down.)

It’s the Older Shinigami who watch Erich with wary eyes and cautious minds.

(Kurotsuchi didn’t come back from Hueco Mundo. Many of the strongest Arrancar went to Karakura with Aizen, but /Kurotsuchi didn’t come back from Hueco Mundo/.)

They know what battle-hardened warriors look like, and Erich’s quiet, his /stillness/ is more threatening to them than all the loud and dramatic flailings of the kids Erich is mentoring. He’s a man with suddenly /everything/ to lose again, and the older Shinigami know just how deadly that makes Erich.

They don’t know what he’s capable of, or what his opinions on Shinigami are. They don’t know if he’s biding his time, harboring the same dreams of revenge of many Quincy they met soon after the purge. He’s a potential threat surrounded by /other/ potential threats, and even worse, they /can’t keep tabs on him/.

He’s as good as an onmitsukido at hiding — better, perhaps, in some instances — and that… that rings alarms in many minds. Control like that doesn’t come from nowhere.

(They don’t think about his age. Don’t consider what he lived through. The Great War was a distant thing for them, and the repercussions of a conflict like that for any spiritually active beings in the area… doesn’t cross their minds.)

The older Shinigami are… uncertain how a fight with Erich would end. He’s only one man, after all, and not boosted by an artifact of power like Aizen was, but… they don’t think he would stand and fight the same way they would.

(He’s a warrior a heartbeat away from retaking his battle-ready edge. Many of them have been trying for centuries to grasp the peace they’ve dreamed of all their life.)

(They know how dirty true combat can get. And they can see the same understanding in Erich.)

(It fills them with dread, some days.)

[ontherockswithsalt]

A Guy With A Secret

/Part One/ /Part Two/ /Part Three/ /Part Four/ /Part Five/ /Part Six/ /Part Seven/

Part Eight.

If I just keep moving forward, maybe none of this will catch up to me.

Any time I stop to consider what the fuck I'm getting myself into, I force it out of my thoughts and move. Cleaning my apartment, another shower, clothes to put away. I glance over at Noble's hooded sweatshirt, a plain granite grey, where it lays on my bed. I could wash it and bring it back. But I selfishly don't want to and I find other things to do.

Reminders of Noble sneak up on me anyway, despite my best efforts to move past them. I'll swallow and a hint of the way he tastes will momentarily surround my senses. My heartbeat will jump at a random memory of his voice, his low whispers against my lips.

But he leaves tomorrow. So I'll let the conflict, the guilt, settle inside me then, and in the meantime, allow myself to exist in this magnetic pull I've never felt before.

After a few back-and-forth texts to confirm dinner plans where Noble lets me know I can come over anytime, I finish getting dressed. Jeans and well-fitting Henley that I try to tell myself is just a casual, random pick but really every time I wear it, its deep sea green color earns me a compliment from someone. Subconsciously, I know that influences my choice. There's something addictive about the way Noble looks at me and I'd be lying if I said I didn't try to provoke it.

I remind myself we're just going to eat dinner as I tug my sleeves up my forearms. I feel too jumpy to care about eating but the idea of getting out in public with him turns those nerves into something alive. After I'm ready, I head out, prompted by the thrill of anticipation.

***

“Ah, fuck me. It's a cop,” Noble gripes just after he pulls open the door to his penthouse. “I didn't do it. I'm innocent.”

I slide my hands into the pockets of my jeans as I wait on the other side. “Hm. That's always convincing.”

“You can search me, I'll cooperate.”

“Don't even start.” I laugh at him with a shake of my head.

The pull of his smile yanks in my chest. The first time I'm seeing him in something that's not gym clothes in a while has me appreciative of how unequivocally good-looking he is. “You look very preppy tonight,” I muse, rocking a step back.

He reaches behind him to pull the door closed, glancing down at his own navy and white checked button down, its sleeves cuffed and pushed to his elbows on pale, slate grey chinos. “Yeah?”

“Like a hot college professor.”

“Nice.” A grin lights up his face and we turn to head toward the elevator. “Maybe that's not a good look for downtown, though.”

“No, I like it.”

He arches an eyebrow in my direction as he slaps the button to go down. Immediately, the elevator doors open. “You have some college professor fetish?”

I laugh down to the floor as I hang my head. “I don't know. Maybe I do now.”

Noble lets out this weary groan as if he's tempted to comment on that but he won't let himself as he steps into the elevator behind me.

“What would be your course?” I wonder.

“My course?”

“Yeah, if you taught a college-level course, what would it be?”

He slips his hands into his pants pockets and leans a shoulder against the wall. “Well considering I slept through seventy-five percent of college, I don't know if I'd qualify--”

“No,” I feign serious dismay. “Not you.”

The line across his brow as he shifts his gaze to me is cute as hell and in the confines of the elevator, makes my heart beat fast. He lets a curvy smirk idle on his face. “Okay. I would probably teach… some sort of wine appreciation class where we get drunk and watch shitty horror movies.”

My head tips back in amusement as the elevator slows at the ground floor. “What would be the requirements of the course?” The doors open and we make our way through the lobby before heading out the door.

“You bring a crappy wine--” he explains. “--F. You bring a good wine and a well-selected crappy movie-- A-plus.”

“Oh damn,” I muse. “That's intense.”

“Yeah, you gonna take my class?”

“For sure.”

“Alright, so what would you turn in?”

I ponder it over a long inhale, swinging my arms in front of me as we make our way down Greenwich Avenue. The city takes on a different energy at night, one that I don't get to appreciate if I'm working. I feel the beginnings of fall brisk in my chest and it’s good to be out in the glow of lower Manhattan. “I get one assignment?”

“You get one chance. Final project.”

“Alright.” I clap. “I'd submit… maybe like a Pinot Noir. And The Shining.”

Noble's head drops and he pushes his hand against his chest as if he just got punched and lost all his air. “No,” he insists. “You bring that California shit to my class and you're done--”

“What?” I cry.

“Also, The Shining is just a good movie,” he reasons. “Which wasn't the assignment. So consider your GPA wrecked. See me during office hours.”

“Dammit.” Amused and my cheek pulling up with a smile, I shake my head as I walk beside him. “Okay wait, let me retake the class.”

“You're gonna have to.”

“A Malbec--” I point, and Noble's intrigued eyebrow slides up as he looks over at me, waiting for the rest. “And Evil Dead.”

This satisfied groan rumbles in his chest. “Fuck me, Jamie.”

The sentiment, coming from him, swirls in my core. I laugh as I turn to glance at him. “Better?”

“A-plus.” He lifts one hand and I hold mine out down low before he drops his palm there in a hard clap of appreciation. “Damn, you're my best student. I'm really impressed with your work.”

His fingers slide through mine before our hands drift apart and the simple, passing moment makes my pulse feel hot.

“Well sucking up to the teacher is definitely my sweet spot,” I tell him. “I won't lie.”

Noble coughs out this loud laugh. “Let me tell you how little that surprises me. I'm into it, though.”

I merely shift my gaze to him and try to ease the smirk that I have. “We're going over here.” I point down the cross street. “Are you good with hanging around Tribeca? This sushi place is pretty lowkey.”

“Yeah, that's probably smart. I like to think I'm fairly under the radar in this neighborhood.”

“Alright good.” I make my way to the door of Takahachi and grasp the handle. “You sense any trouble, you let me know.”

As I tug open the door, I step back to let him pass through first. I see him dig his teeth across his lower lip before his eyebrows jump. “This is playing out like a very specific cop fantasy I have--”

I reach out and shove a hand against his shoulder and I hiss a breathy laugh. “Save it,” I mutter, biting down on a smile before I follow into the restaurant behind him.

[tb5-heavenward]

flight hours

there was a cliffhanger in the last bit, but I’m sure you know well enough by now to trust me. you guys trust me, right?

6

The difference between three hundred hours of sim training vs three hundred real, actual flight hours is that Scott's already bringing TB1 back around, back in John's direction, before he even fully comprehends the fact that his brother is falling out of the sky, unconscious at best and dead at worst, and weighed down by about a hundred pounds of deactivated exosuit, trailing smoke from a torn off wing. Scott's reacted faster than he can actually think, and there's a sudden shock of pure terror as his brain catches up to the reality of what's just happened.

John's falling, and therefore the only possible course of action is for Scott to catch him.

There's very little difference between John, falling and Scott, flying, because neither of them are doing it consciously. Scott flies like it's second nature. He flies without thinking, because he and his Thunderbird are one and the same, a union of ship and soul. Scott doesn't need to think about how to fly, he just needs to think about why he's flying, and the purity of purpose is enough that his every need translates perfectly into the way his ship performs.

Right now he needs to save his brother's life, because apparently that's a favour that needs returning.

John's always going on about how the best plans are the simplest, but for Scott, the best plans aren't plans at all. Scot's at his best when he doesn't think about what he's doing, when he takes his actions before he can overthink them. He's honed his reactions to be faster than his brain, and this is the fundamental principle he'd been trying to teach his brother. It seems like ages ago that he was trying to tell John he needed to stop over thinking each maneuver before he executed it, but they're still within the same hour.

So he's not making a plan as he throws his Thunderbird downward, in pursuit of his brother, falling. The remnants of the drone swarm are falling too, crowding the skies as Scott gets closer, such that he needs to twist and roll his ship to negotiate his way past them without any collisions. They're bigger than he'd realized now that he perceives them in comparison to his brother; at least half as big again as John's exosuit, and in all dimensions.

He hears the roar of wind through his opened auxiliary hatch in the same moment that he realizes what his intentions actually are---the simplest possible action, just to get his ship beneath his brother and catch him. There are logistical elements to the lack-of-a-plan that present some problems, and Scott's brain takes back over as he sets the autopilot, climbs out of his seat, and grabs his jetpack.

TB1's autopilot is preprogrammed with a dozen or so specific protocols, all intended to make the ship behave the way he needs it to when he's not actively piloting. He has an entire alphabet of flight patterns that achieve all manner of goals; will have TB1 shadow him at a set distance, or remain stationary where he leaves it, or rendezvous with him at a set location. Alpha through Delta all concern his ability to get back aboard the ship once he exits it. It's Delta he needs, and he engages it as he steps out of the cargo hatch.

He's long since gotten over the shock of that initial drop, the way it feels to just fall, straight down from the safety of his ship into the open air. There's always that same clench of his stomach, the skip of his heartbeat, but Scott's done this so many times that he's used to both, and it's really no more nervewracking than crossing the street. Freefalling is a skill, just the same as flying is, and it's another thing John needs to learn. It's not something his brother would ever admit to, but it's something Scott knows about him regardless---that more than almost anything else, John's afraid of falling.

The column of smoke that trails behind him marks Scott's target, and he's in pursuit almost as soon as he hits the skies. It's probably good that John's not conscious for this part, and as he orients himself in the open air to get a better look at him, Scott can tell with certainty that John's absolutely not conscious. Whether it's the impact with the drone that's done it, or the electric discharge that had followed---it doesn't really matter. Scott adjusts his limbs and straightens his back and tips closer to vertical as he dives after his brother, who's already had nearly twenty seconds of freefall in which to hit terminal velocity. He engages his controls and fires his thrusters to close the distance between them. Another eight seconds and Scott covers two thousand feet, gets near enough to get a faceful of smoke. He puts on a last little bit of speed to get through this, then cuts power to the jetpack. As he matches the speed at which John's falling, he's already stretched out to get a hand on whatever part of his brother he can reach first.

Midair, in freefall, Scott snags John's wrist, and for the first time since things started going wrong, he finally feels like he's got the situation under control.

"Oh boy," he mutters under his breath, though if John's biometrics are out, then his radio's out along with them, and Scott may as well be talking to himself. The sarcasm would probably be lost on him anyway, as Scott echoes his brother's earlier sentiment, "You're just in a hell of a lot of trouble, aren't you? Hang on, Johnny."

The next step is to get a proper hold of the exosuit, though the weight of the thing is only going to be a problem. Scott needs to bring TB1 as close as possible if he's going to get them both back aboard. He wants a better look at his brother, but it's going to have to wait until they're safely aboard. He's still got one hand wrapped around John's wrist, and the other locked firmly around a handhold on the chestpiece, as he snaps the command into his open comm line, clear and crisp and deliberate, "Thunderbird One, initiate Protocol Delta, clearance: five meters."

There's a chime of acknowledgment in his ear, and overhead, his ship begins its descent.

Sometimes Scott thinks that the only thing better than flying his Thunderbird is watching his Thunderbird fly itself.

It's the closest he gets to what other people must feel, seeing International Rescue arrive on the scene. TB1 is beautiful, but never more so than when Scott's got a life in his hands, and his Thunderbird represents salvation. He twists in the air to watch as the ship descends, knows that he's being tracked by some of the most advanced telemetry in the world; that his ship knows where he is and will always, always come when he calls it. It's a loyalty born of silicon and iridium, not heart and soul, but whenever his ship flies to meet him, Scott can't help but feel something that seems a great deal like love.

"Almost there," he murmurs, and releases his grip on John's wrist in favour of retaking control of his jetpack. He adjusts his grip on the exosuit, and starts a gentle burn to counter their fall, his gaze locked on TB1 and the open, waiting cargo hatch overhead, as his ship follows him down. The key to open flight is focusing his attention on exactly where he wants to go, which is another trick he hadn't yet managed to teach his brother. He has to shy away from the thought that he might not get the chance.

It takes all the thrust his jetpack can deliver to handle the extra weight, and he won't be able to sustain upward flight for very long at all. But as Thunderbird One obligingly descends to precisely the specified distance, five meters seems like very little to ask in return. Fifteen feet. He used to jump further than that when he did track in highschool. He can feel the strain on the jet at his back as he opens the throttle, but it's just enough to fight gravity, and the next thing he knows, the roar of wind has diminished and he's tumbling with his brother into the interior of his Thunderbird, even as the hatch closes behind him.

And then suddenly it's quiet. And still. And they're safe.

[batarangtotheheart]

Neglected

Mel here. just something I whipped up for @protegoparacosm

Royalty. Aurora scoffed at the idea. Sure, some nations could use some leadership. But the stuck-up royals who neglect their friends and family because they focus only on their royal status are what made Aurora's blood boil. Her status didn't mean anything to her. It was more of a bother. She loved the kingdom of Lucis, but her status only caused her pain and neglected feelings. Aurora knew her father and brother love her. But she couldn't remember the last time her father Regis held her. She couldn't remember the last time her brother Noctis ruffled her hair. She hadn't felt part of a family in a long time. The closest to a family she had now was Cor. Many knew him as "Cor the Immortal" or "Immortal Shogun" but Aurora knew him as Coco. Cor was an older man with short, brown hair and blue eyes. He dressed like everyone in the Citadel did; like an old person who never grew out of their emo phase. He wore black pants with a black, skull-printed shirt with black boots that had red soles. When they met she was only a baby. Now she was eight and he was thirty-five. Despite the age gap, Aurora looked up to Cor more than anything. They spent a lot of time together and days with him made Aurora's life a little less lonely. The nickname Coco originates from their special tradition where they eat Coco Puff's every time he comes home from battle. When asked why Aurora explained that she was "treating him for coming home alive to cure her loneliness." As she sat with him and ate a bowl of their treasured cereal, she recalled the day she first met him.

"Aurora!" A desperate call echoed down the hallways. "It's time for your lessons!" A small child, no older than five, peaked from her spot behind a pillar and poked out her tongue at the white-haired older aged woman who gave her lessons each day. She bolted from her spot and ignored the desperate cries behind her. As she ran, she bumped into another pillar and fell down. She looked up from her spot on the floor and shrieked in shock. It was not a pillar, but instead a very tall and scary looking man. "A pervert!" She screamed. The man seemed very panicked as he waved his hands frantically. "I'm not a pervert, you little-" He was cut off by a kick to the lower belt area. He clutched the area and groaned and Aurora used this distraction to run away. "Hey, stop!" The man yelled after her. Aurora grinned as she ran. "Can't catch me, perv!" "I'm not a pervert!" He yelled after her as he started to chase her. She was fast for an eight-year-old, but he was faster. He cornered her, towering above her. Instead of being scared, she just blinked as if nothing happened. "I'm the Princess. Touch me and your ass is grass." The man sighed. This was the princess. Of course. "Let me introduce myself. I'm Cor, and I'm not a pervert." After that, Aurora smiled and nodded. "Cool. Wanna play?" Cor blanked. She trusts too easily.

Aurora snapped out of it and glanced at Cor. She sipped the milk from her cereal quietly. She looked aside at the water from the small pond and grinned at him. "Hey, Coco." He looked up at her. She smirked and pointed to her new mustache formed from milk. "Even I can grow a proper mustache, why can't you?" A deadly look crossed his face and a tick-mark appeared on his forehead."You little-" "Aurora!" His words were cut off by Aurora's tutor. "It's time for lessons!" Aurora let out a child-like groan and set her bowl down. "But Coco just got home! I want to spend time with him." She growled stubbornly. Cor set his bowl down and got up. "Lessons are more important. I'll still be here when you come back." He said simply. His word was the law for Aurora and she sighed dejectedly and walked away with her tutor. Cor watched until they were out of sight and sighed as he picked up the bowls. As he started to walk down the hallways he noticed Drautos, captain of Kingsglaive.  He had short, brown hair and dangerous blue eyes. "You're too close. You are a distraction." He said bluntly. Cor rubbed his hand across his face. He knew this would come up eventually. "I have heard tales of your accomplishments, some I have seen myself. You are a skillful man, Cor Leonis. But you are not royalty." Drautos said carefully. "You should know your place, and keep there." He walked away and the warning hung too heavily in the air. As Aurora walked out of the lessons room, she noticed a head of fluffy black hair and grinned. "Noctis!" She shouted happily. The boy glanced at her before looking back toward a painting that hung on the wall. She smiled despite his ignoring her. "What are you doing?" She questioned happily. "I want to look around. Alone." Aurora noticed his sharp tone but her smile was unwavering. "Why alone? Isn't it more fun to have someone?" Noctis just sighed. "Sometimes. But sometimes it is okay to be alone." Aurora looked at the floor. "It isn't fun being alone all the time." Noctis finally looked at her. "You aren't alone." Her smile turned sad. "Not anymore. I have Cor now!" Just as Noctis opened his mouth Aurora gasped. "Cor!" She took off running, completely forgetting their conversation. Noctis blinked. She ran around everywhere but Cor wasn't to be found. "Coco?" She said quietly to herself, confused as to where he could be. Searching proved to be useless so she went around questioning everyone she came across until she spotted a large, sour-looking guard. She didn't really want to approach him, but her curiosity was stronger than her dislike. "Hello. Where is Cor?" The formalities were non-existant. She was less concerned about proper conversation than she was about Cor. The guard barely glanced but did a retake when he noticed it was Aurora. "He left today, Your Highness. Battle in Corbenic." Aurora teared up. "But, he just got home." The guard looked down, feeling guilty even though it wasn't him who sent Cor away. His apology was ignored as she ran away, back to her room. It was the first time the thought crossed her mind. Aurora spent the next six years with her brother and his friends, Gladiolus Amicitia, Ignis Scientia and her not-so-secret crush, Prompto Argentum. Despite constant complaints from her brother, she stuck with them throughout the six years and she grew a bond with each of them individually. Which brings this story to her, age 14. About to confess her feelings for her own brother's best friend, Prompto. They sat on a balcony, admiring the stars and talking about anything they wanted. "Say, Prompto..." Aurora said quietly. The boy turned his head and Aurora stopped to admire him. His blond hair shone against the light of the lamp and his blue eyes appeared purple. Her heart beat quicker. "Do you.. ever think about finding someone? To date." She let out. He smiled sheepishly and rubbed the back of his neck. "Not really." Her heart dropped. "You don't like anyone?" Her voice was bordering hopeful and she knew it. Prompto's cheeks flushed and he coughed into his hand. "Well... not really. Why are you asking?"

Aurora's eyes widened at his question. "Well..." This was it. The words "I like you" were close to being spilled, but she couldn't bring herself to say them. "I just want to make sure if you did have a crush, that they're good enough for you." She laughed and it sounded truly genuine. After years of sadness, her talent was to laugh as if she was the happiest person in the world. Prompto smiled and wrapped his arm around her. "Thanks, Rora." She cursed herself quietly when her heartbeat quickened yet again but smiled anyway. "Of course, Prom." He left soon after, off to find her brother. It wasn't the second time. Nor the third. It wasn't even the fifth time the thought crossed her mind.

Two years. That is how long she endured the pain of knowing she would never be more than Noctis' sister, a friend, to Prompto. After that night, she was more reclused. She would even go to her lessons to avoid having to see her brother or his friends. She was really alone.

She laid on her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was 16 now, nearly an adult. She had just overheard plans of marrying her off. She scoffed tearfully. Her? With some stranger she doesn't love? Or even know... The thought was ridiculous to her, but not to her own father, apparently. Throughout the years, she had grown to be bitter toward her own family. Her father cared for her, she knew. He just had a shitty way of showing it. Same for Noctis. The only ones who ever really showed their care fully was Cor and her brother's friends. But Cor was gone and her brother's friends were just that: her brother's friends. She was completely alone, she realized. The thought crossed her mind again. She shook her head. Aurora was going to at least give herself a shot. The next day she sat next to Ignis while Gladio and Noctis fought. Prompto was cheering them both on. She cheered on Gladio because he ruffled her hair earlier. Noctis sweat-dropped when he heard the reasoning. His sister was so easily swayed. When Gladio struck the winning blow, she got out of her seat and cheered louder. Gladio just chuckled deeply. "Guess you're paying for lunch, Noctis." He stuck his hand out to him and Noctis took it. He dusted himself off and sighed. "A deal's a deal." Prompto cheered. "Thanks, Noct! I want some wing-" Noctis cut him off, "Hey! At least wait until we get there!" As Aurora watched them walk away, she realized she really didn't have a place with them. She turned to walk away when she was called by Prompto. "Hey, Rora. Aren't you gonna come too?" She turned and smiled. "I think I'll give Noct's wallet a break. Plus I'm not very hungry." Prompto nodded at this and ran to catch up with his friends.

When Aurora got back to her room, she finally gave into the thought. "Miss?" A tiny maid with thin, brown hair and kind brown eyes shook her. After a minute, the girl got worried and checked Aurora's pulse. A scream was heard throughout the entire citadel.

When Noctis returned, he had expected the usual calm and quiet citadel. Not loud crying and shouting. He got a bad feeling and it intensified after every step. He passed a couple of crying maids who only cried harder when they spotted him. Noctis ran to them. "What is going on? Is everything alright?" He questioned worriedly. The younger maid cried harder and the older put a hand on her shoulder and turned her head from him. "It is Princess Aurora." The maid would be glad she had looked away from the prince because if she hadn't, she would have seen the most grief to ever cross someone's face. Noctis ran. Fastest than he'd ever run before. As he passed each room, his mind floated back to when he and Aurora would run together, racing to see who was the better sibling. He could almost see the little black haired girl beside him, giggling and shouting. Now that he thought about it, he couldn't remember the last time he had even spent time with her; just them. When he was only a few feet from her door, his heart hurt. He didn't ask the maid exactly what she meant, instead his worry took over and he ran. His footsteps echoed as he walked, and everything else was eerily silent. He stood in front of her door. It wasn't usually closed. She had always left it open so that whoever needed someone knew they could talk to her. She was like that, too kind and trusting. He rested his forehead on the door that separated him from his fate and placed his shaky hand on the knob. He slowly twisted it open and stared. He expected Aurora to be sitting on her bed, giggling about how she pranked everyone again. She wasn't. Her room was completely empty. He stood there for a while until he was called. "Your Highness? Your father requests your presence." Noctis barely nodded in response. He hadn't seen his father in weeks, but surely he had answers as to where the hell Aurora was. He was escorted to the throne room where his father sat on the throne, his hand covering his face. He looked like he was barely keeping it together. Noctis' heart hardened. "Where is she?" He choked out. His father didn't look up, instead he raised his hand and signaled the guards out. Once it was just Noctis and him, Regis looked up and Noctis noticed his red eyes. His heart fell straight into hell and he had a feeling it wasn't coming back. "She's dead." Noctis felt like he had been hit by a truck that carried gallons of grief, and it had just been emptied onto him. He collapsed onto his knees. He stared at the floor on all fours. His eyes shut tightly to avoid the tears that were starting to pour down. "How?" He growled out, grief coating the single word. A white envelope was passed down to him. "Noctis" was etched out in his sister's messy handwriting. Regis said nothing, and Noctis snarled. "You tell me my sister, your daughter, is dead and all I get is a damn envelope? Tell me what the hell happened!" He screamed. His father looked down at him and Noctis swore he had never seen his father so broken. He knew he wasn't going to get anything out of him. Noctis snatched the envelope and walked out shakily. Hey Noct. Sorry I'm not there to tell you this, but I can't. Because I'm, well, dead. DON'T CRY, PLEASE. I'm fine! I don't really believe in Heaven so I don't know if I'll be seeing anyone, like Mom. Please don't blame yourself. I had been thinking about this since Cor left, so many years ago. They were gonna marry me off, you know? I don't even know his name. I was walking toward my next lesson and.. I heard some people talking about me getting married. I wasn't too worried and just thought they were some annoying guys who wanted to marry me. Until I heard Father's voice. He agreed. He agreed to something he knew I would never be okay with, Noct. I knew then that he and I would never really get along. He was another person I crossed off my very short list of people that made me feel like I wasn't alone. I feel bad telling you this but, you hadn't been on that list for a long time.. It wasn't really your fault, you had duties of Crown Prince and then you had your own friends. I was just the annoying little sister. I don't really know why I wrote this letter... Or any of the letters. I guess I just didn't want to die without an explanation. It really hurts, brother. I just.. don't want to hurt anymore. I love you. -Aurora

Noctis clutched the letter closely to his chest. When had she matured so much? Where was he, every time she thought of this? He didn't even remember the last thing he said to her, or what she said to him. Was it goodbye? Was it words of love? He didn't even know. What kind of shitty brother was he? The letter had dried wet marks, and he knew they weren't his tears that stained the paper.

Two weeks later, he finally emerged from his room. He looked different, even sadder than usual. His eyes carried a heavy look, and anyone could tell he was weighed down by grief. He sat at his usual spot away from the citadel, remembering the time Aurora followed him out there. She wanted to play a game, he wanted quiet. He sent her away. The quiet was interrupted by the sound of crunching leaves. He didn't look but he knew it was Prompto. His best friend sat next to him. "I'm sorry," Prompto whispered out. Noctis didn't look at him. "It isn't your fault, Prompto." It was then that Prompto let out sobs. "It was though! She... she left me a letter! She told me, Noctis. She told me she loved me. I told her I didn't like anyone! I basically rejected her, and she suffered because of it!" He sobbed. He put his head on Noctis' shoulder, wailing his apologies. Noctis' face tightened and he cried with him.

Back at the Citadel, Cor was finally returning after eight years of avoiding coming home. He felt guilty as he stared at the doors. Would Aurora ever forgive him? He wondered what she looked like now and if she had ever matured from the child he knew. He opened the doors and smiled slightly. If Aurora ever forgave him, he couldn't wait to tell her about his adventure over a bowl of their treasured shared food. He walks through the halls and spotted his old friend, Yoshi. "Yo!" He yelled at him. Yoshi turned and his eyes widened in surprise. "Cor. You're home." Cor grinned. "Sure am. How are you?" Yoshi furrowed his eyebrows. Last he remembered, Cor and the princess were extremely close. He would've thought Cor would be more.. broken. Yoshi's eyes widened. Unless... "I am fine. How are you, old friend?" Cor just crossed his arms. "I have grown much, as you can see. My time in Corbenic was certainly an adventure." Yoshi nodded. "Cor, haven't you heard the news about the princess?" Yoshi got straight to the point. To his surprise, Cor laughed loudly. "I have. Aurora? Getting married? Never. I bet she is holed up in her room right now, stubborn as ever."

Yoshi sighed, he knew it. "Where is she, anyway? Is she still whining over her lessons? I bet she grew up to be quite a feisty kiddo." Cor chuckled. Yoshi didn't want to be the one to ruin Cor, especially since he just got back from battle, but he didn't want him to hear it from a stranger. "Cor, she died." Cor stopped smiling. "That's not funny. She would never let herself be killed." He growled, glaring. "She would if she did it herself," Yoshi said simply. His old friend scoffed angrily. "Never." He was in denial. "See for yourself, Cor. I wouldn't joke about this. You know that." Cor took off. "Her room is still in the same place!" Yoshi yelled after him. Cor refused to believe it. Aurora? Dead by her own hand? Then again, he hadn't seen her in eight years. He had left her... He knew she was a lonely kid, her brother too busy to play with her. The only interaction she got was from her maids. He remembered the look in her eyes when he first met her. Her eyes held a thousand-year sadness and she looked like she was carrying the biggest amount of neglect and loneliness he had ever seen. And she had only been five. He would've thought she had made friends with how kind and open she was. He never would have thought she had... He couldn't finish his thought.

But of course, he was wrong. He never wanted to be wrong again in his life.

[sakumodoesstuff]

Aching Blood, Trembling Heart-Chapter 2

As promised, here’s chapter 2.  :3

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Aching Blood, Trembling Heart

A Fire Emblem Fates Story

Chapter Two

Her Story

Corrin’s quill jotted across the page as she copied the next name on the list.  She smiled, her eyes on her work, as Odin sat across from her at the table in her room, regaling her with the story of how he had chased after a legendary weapon.  She liked Odin’s stories.  They made her feel calmer, and the sound of his voice, rich with passion, made her heart beat contentedly.  For all his talk about being a living incarnation of darkness, Odin always lit up the room.

“And then at last, my eyes laid upon it: that legendary blade, the mate for my blighted sword hand was finally in my grasp!” Odin said, his voice rising with the apex of his story.

“‘Blighted sword hand,’ huh?” Corrin said, pausing her work to take a sip of her tea.  “How exactly is it blighted?”

He hesitated, looking up at her, his face reddening in embarrassment.  “Er, well, it...it craves the blood of unscrupulous foes!  Its bloodlust knows no ending!  It hungers for battle, twitching to strike down enemies!”

“Wow, that sounds really awful,” Corrin said, replacing her tea cup in her saucer.  She folded her arms on the table and leaned toward him a little.  “I can see why you made the switch to magic instead.”

“Of course, it was an obvious—wait, what?”  He dropped character, his face falling.  “That’s not wh...Why would you think that?”

She laughed, her whole body shaking with her mirth.  He was always so adorable when he got flustered, and it was so easy to do.  Lately she had taken to asking him probing questions during his stories for this exact purpose, because seeing him flounder to regain himself was so cute she just couldn’t resist.

She loved Odin.  His oddball behavior, his grandiose stories, his penchant for posing—all the things she had at first found annoying about him, she now adored with her whole heart.  Odin, she had come to realize, was the sort of man that grew on you, a man that seeped into your heart and claimed it without your noticing.  That more or less described how she had fallen for him, realizing one day after an interaction with him how light and warm she felt.  Since then, she had tried to get him to notice, at least a little bit: smiling at him in a way she hoped conveyed how much she cared for him, finding every excuse she could to take hold of his hand, trying to purposely run into him as he went about his day...She wasn’t quite sure if any of these plans were working.  She had noticed an increase in how embarrassed he seemed to be around her; it seemed like she saw him blushing more frequently of late.  His handsome face, flushed red, with an abashed expression was enough to drive her heart wild.

Corrin savored the frazzled, almost hurt look on his face and quieted her laughter.  “I’m just teasing you, Odin,” she said, reaching across the table and patting his hand.  She left her hand atop his as long as she dared before retracting it.  “Now then, what happened next?”

He eyed her suspiciously, only retaking his storytelling when she smiled encouragingly at him.  Corrin returned to her copying, her new schedule for the mess hall almost complete.  Someone had accidentally thrown away the previous version, necessitating her copying from her master schedule.   Odin had agreed to keep her company while she worked, which of course meant a session of his unique storytelling.  She was somewhat interested in his tale, and it had been entertaining thus far, but to be completely honest, she was more interested in another topic of discussion.

Prior to retiring to her room, the two of them had been in the armory, working on inventory.  Odin had been acting a little off, and Corrin was anxious to know what was bothering him.  Just as he was finally going to tell her, Selena had interrupted them with news about the missing schedule, so their conversation had been postponed.  Odin had promised her he would continue his thought, but when they had arrived at her room, he had launched straightway into his sword story.  Despite her enjoyment of his company, Corrin still felt a lingering unease in her stomach.  Just what had he been about to say before they were interrupted?

“And so it was, with the bandits vanquished and the mythical blade calming the aching blood in my veins, I, Odin Dark, did part ways with the hero-king’s army, in search of another conquest,” he concluded, holding a hand in front of his face.

Corrin applauded lightly; she was never quite sure how to react at the end of Odin’s stories, but she always felt like applause was necessary.  “Wow, that certainly was some story, Odin,” she said, grinning.

He sat up in his chair, beaming.  “Did you enjoy it?” he asked, his voice eager for praise.

Corrin smiled.  “I did, actually.  Though I do have to wonder how much of it is actually true,” she added, raising a sly eyebrow at him.

“Lady Corrin!” he exclaimed indignantly.  “To think that you would accuse me of fabrication!  I am insulted at the mere implication!  Odin Dark only conveys the truest of tales!”

“Uh-huh,” Corrin said, her grin widening.  “Even the part where you cut down six bandits with one sword swing?”

He faltered, and she knew she was flustering him again.  “Er, well...okay, so it was ninety-nine percent accurate,” he admitted, taking a sip of his own tea, which he had been neglecting.

“And the part where the hero-king offered you half his kingdom for rescuing him?” she continued, winking at him.

“Okay, okay, it was seventy-five percent accurate, but that’s all you’re getting,” he said, closing an eye and sticking his tongue out at her.

She laughed again; Odin had a knack for making her laugh.  Being with him always brought her so much joy.  “In any case, didn’t you say the sword wasn’t really all that special?”

“Ehh, it did turn out to be a pretty common weapon,” he confessed, sipping at his tea.  “However!” he said, holding up an explanatory finger.  “With a proper name and maintenance by yours truly, Missiletainn went on to become a trusted partner in my fight against evil.  I actually still have it with me back in my room.”

“Really?” Corrin asked, intrigued.  “Would you show it to me?”

“Why, of course, milady!” Odin said, beaming.  “Remind me after dinner, and I’ll bring it over.”

“Sounds great!” she said.  With a final stroke of her quill, she completed her copying.  “And, done!  Now to wait for the ink to dry, and then I can take it to the mess hall.”

“It would seem my timing is excellent, as usual,” Odin said, placing his tea cup on the table.  “To complete my tale at the same time as your task is surely a work of fate itself.”

Corrin smiled at him, running a finger along her quill a few times to calm her nerves.  It was now or never.  “So, Odin...Now that you’ve finished your story, did you want to...tell me what’s been bothering you?”  She noticed he tensed, but only slightly.  “After all, you did promise you would.”

“R-Right, so I did,” Odin said, nodding.  He held a finger to his forehead, his other arm crossing over his chest to hold his elbow in the thoughtful position.  “How best to explain…”

Corrin fidgeted in her chair, her heartbeat increasing steadily.  Subconsciously, she leaned closer across the table, eager to hear his answer.

Odin sighed.  “To be completely honest, Lady Corrin, I’m not all that certain you can help me with this,” he said, scratching his head.

She deflated a little.  “O-Oh?  Why not?” she asked.

He blushed and looked away from her.  “Because the issue is very serious.  You see...I’m suffering from...an ailment of the heart.”

“‘Ailment of the…’ Oh!” she gasped, translating his wording.  “You...You mean you’re in love with someone?”

Odin’s blush intensified, and he still refused to meet her eye, but he nodded.  “I’m terribly afflicted, I’m afraid,” he said.

Corrin sank further into her folded arms.  “R-Really?  Whoever it is, they’re really lucky to have your attention,” she said, her expression and voice both failing to hide the disappointment she felt.

He looked up at her, surprised.  “Really?  You think so?”

“Well of course!” Corrin said, eyebrows furrowing crossly at him.  “You’re a wonderful person, Odin.  You’re brave and charming, you’re always willing to help others.  On top of that, you’re fun to talk to and always good for a laugh when it’s most needed.”  She smiled sadly at him.  “Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

He stared at her, his jaw slackened.  A slight shake of his head indicated he had been in a daze and snapped back to reality.  “I...I’m flattered that you think so, milady.  Truly I am not worthy of such praise.”

“And there we have your biggest flaw, Odin,” she said, frowning at him.

“Huh?”

“People think that because you’re always telling stories about yourself that you must be self-absorbed.  But any time someone gives you a genuine compliment, you always dismiss it and self-deprecate,” she said, pointing accusingly at him.  She looked him in the eye.  “You should have more confidence in yourself, Odin.  Real confidence, not the kind you pretend you have.”

“Lady Corrin…” he said, his eyebrows raised.

“I’m sure if you do that, everything will work out fine,” she said, eyeing the table again, her voice breaking at the end.  No good.  She was starting to get emotional.  She inhaled to calm her nerves.  “So, tell me, this person you love, what are they like?”

Odin shifted uncomfortably in his seat.  “In all my wanderings, I’ve never met a more incredible woman,” he said, his voice quiet.  He smiled to himself.  “She is an unstoppable force in battle, yet her heart is the kindest I’ve ever known.  Others look to her as a pillar of strength, but I know that the base of that pillar bears the cracks of her uncertainties.”  He furrowed his eyebrows, his half-lidded eyes focused on the table.  “I wish only that I could be the glue that cements those doubts, to ease her burdened heart in some way, so that she can be the beacon that lights the very night, as she is destined to be.”  He sighed wistfully.  “My love, she...she is a goddess of beauty in human form, both in body and heart.”

Corrin sank further into her sulk.  Why did she ask him this question?  Hearing him talk so tenderly about another woman, a fond, adorable expression on his face, was too much for her.  She could feel her eyes watering, and her chest felt so tight and achy that she found it difficult to breathe.  She inhaled through her mouth, her breath coming in choppy and ragged, a sure sign that she was losing control of her emotions.

“Lady Corrin, are you all right?” Odin asked suddenly, his face shifting with worry.

“Ah, forgive me, I have something in my eye,” Corrin said, rubbing her tears away before they had a chance to escape.  Her quaking voice betrayed her heartbreak.

“What’s wrong?” he asked more urgently.

His face, filled with concern, made the anguish she felt building in her chest intensify.  She stood and turned away from him, feeling her shoulders tremble as hot tears streamed down her cheeks.  Scrubbing her face clean, she took a deep breath and turned.  She was surprised to find Odin had stood as well, and he was walking toward her.  “I think I got it, no worries,” she assured him, forcing a smile.  “Y...You were saying?”

Odin stared at her silently, as if he were trying to solve a puzzle written on her face.  Closing his eyes, he continued.  “I’m afraid, however, though my experience is quite varied, this is one area in which I am lacking,” he admitted, shuffling his feet.  “I’ve never felt this way about someone before, and I’m certain she only sees me as a stalwart friend, not a lover.”

“That must be difficult,” Corrin said, refusing to meet his eye.  She rubbed her arm.  “Have you...tried just telling her how you feel?”

“I am endeavoring to, but I’m afraid my inexperience is affecting the reception,” he said, wringing his hands.  “She’s clearly missing every indication I’ve made of my affections.”

Corrin paused, her eyebrows furrowing.  What did he mean by that?  The verbiage he was using...he couldn’t mean...could he?  Her heart leapt, and she looked up at him.  “Maybe you’re just not being direct enough,” she said, her face serious.

Odin avoided her gaze, his blush intensifying.  “That’s not exactly an easy thing for me,” he said, fidgeting with the ring on his right hand to keep his hands steady.  “To come right out and say it would be…”

“That’s exactly what you have to do,” Corrin said, her heartbeat steadily increasing.  “If you’re subtle about it, how is she supposed to know what you mean?”

Odin sighed.  “You’re right, I know,” he agreed, rubbing his neck.  “I just worry that someone like me...isn’t good enough for her.”

“Stop that,” she said, scowling at him.  “I’ve told you already that you need to have confidence in yourself.”

“But it’s true,” he argued, staring into her glower.  “After all, no matter what impressive feats I may accomplish, I’m still just a retainer.  I could never be worthy of you, so I—”

He froze, realizing his slip before she did.  He looked away as she gasped, his face flushing so quickly that he looked dizzy.

“Odin...”

“D-Did I say ‘you?’  H-H-How silly of me,” he said in a much louder voice than was natural.  “Surely I must be experiencing some sort of delirium.”  He glanced at her, noticed she was still staring at him, and looked up at the ceiling instead.  “A-And small wonder!  It seems that the temperature in this room has increased suddenly!  C-Clearly I need to step outside for some air—”

“Don’t you dare.”

Odin made an attempt to flee, but Corrin caught him by the wrist.  He turned to her, and the two of them stared wide-eyed at one another, both of them red-faced.

Corrin swallowed.  She wasn’t going to let him get away.  Inhaling, she pulled his arm and pressed her lips to his.

They stood together, neither wishing to move, to break apart, to breathe.  Eventually, they both needed air, and they separated, hovering close together, panting.  Their eyes met, and within seconds, they were upon each other again, Corrin encircling his neck with her arms and Odin pulling her body into his, curling his hands around her back.

Corrin felt like she was floating.  The feel of his muscular arms around her, the taste of his lips as he kissed her over and over, the scent of his body, so close to hers...every one of her senses erupted in a firestorm of emotions.  She weaved her fingers into his hair, pressing gently against the back of his head to keep him pinned to her, and Odin moaned softly in her mouth, tightening his grip on her body.  She had craved this release for so long, and it just made her want more.  She ran her other arm down his back, digging her fingers into his shoulder blades.  She felt as if she couldn’t have him close enough, and she desperately, desperately needed him to be.

After several minutes had passed, they pulled apart, both breathless, their foreheads resting together, and they clung to each other, neither relaxing their grip.  They gazed into one another’s eyes, Odin lifting a hand to hold her cheek in his palm.  Catching her breath, Corrin spoke first.

“How dare you try to run away.”

“I wasn’t…!” he began, but when she furrowed her eyebrows, he relented.  “Okay, yes, I was trying to run away.”

“And what sort of confession was that?” she said, smiling teasingly at him, tracing her finger along his ear.  “How was I supposed to know you were talking about me?”

“I was merely building dramatic tension for the big reveal,” Odin said, frowning.  His eyebrows shifted.  “Though I ended up screwing everything up.  I upset you, didn’t I?”

“You did,” she admitted, half-lidding her eyes reflectively before looking back at him.  She slid her hand across his cheek and held it.  “I couldn’t bear hearing you say all those things if it was about someone else.”

He smiled sadly at her, kissing the heel of her palm.  “Oh my beloved,” Odin said, leaning into her hand, “how could the goddess of my heart be anyone else but you?”

Stroking her finger along his temple, she beamed at him, so filled with joy that she could barely contain it.  Her face fell, however, as a thought occurred to her, and she pulled on his cheek, causing him to yelp.  “You said I couldn’t help you with your problem,” she said, leering at him.

“Ih wash for drahmatick effec,” he reasoned, his mouth stretched from her fingertips.  He whined in his throat and rubbed at his face when she let go.

“Well, no more dramatic effect when it comes to our relationship.”  She smiled at him, winking.  “Deal?”

Odin sighed, looking a bit disappointed, before the corners of his mouth twitched into a small smile.  “Deal.”

Corrin cupped his cheek and kissed the red mark where she had tugged on him.  When Odin turned his head to reclaim her lips, she was more than happy to oblige.

Bonus Ending:

“You’re sure you won’t get in trouble with Leo for helping me with the rest of the convoy shipment?” Corrin asked as they strolled across the lawn, the new kitchen schedule in her hand.

“Lord Leo has already released me for the afternoon, so there’s nothing to worry about,” Odin said.  He smiled at her.  “Besides, I’m not quite ready to part with you yet.”

Corrin blushed, and she intentionally bumped shoulders with him as they walked, grinning.  “Then I guess I won’t feel selfish for keeping you all to myself.”

The mess hall was empty when they entered.  “Selena said she’d be here,” Corrin said, looking around.  “After all, she’s on pantry duty today.”  She called the woman’s name; maybe she was in the back?

A loud crashing sound came from the back room, and within a few seconds, Selena emerged, red-faced.  She smoothed at her clothes as she walked toward them.  “Ah, good, you’ve got the list, Corrin?” she said, sounding breathless.

Odin raised an eyebrow at the redhead’s behavior as she and Corrin exchanged words.  Movement in his periphery caught his eye, and he glanced over at the entrance to the kitchen, where someone was peeking out the doorway.

Not just someone.  Laslow.

Odin folded his arms, his eyebrows rising and a grin spreading across his face.  Laslow met eyes with him, his face flushing scarlet.  Odin had to resist a laugh when the other man flipped him off before disappearing back into the kitchen.

[canaryatlaw]

So, today was pretty good, possibly not as productive as I would've liked but that's okay for now. Tomorrow and Sunday I'm really going to buckle down on the paper and get that done with so I can focus on the test Monday and Tuesday. So I had my PT appointment at 1:30 today and set my clock for 12:55 (I generally take 35 minutes from waking up to getting out the front door, but I wasn't doing my make up so I could cut those ten minutes and add them onto walking over there since it's not far). But when my alarm went off I convinced myself I could sleep for 10 more minutes, though I can't really remember my reasoning, but I just grabbed a donut (my last free one) for breakfast and ran over to make it in time. Did the normal warm up, and had a pretty good session. There was an older lady on the table next to me that I was talking to a bit and she was nice. I'm glad that a lot of the exercises seem to be focusing on building core muscles, because that's also like generally ab related, so I'm happy about that. After I finished and started walking home, I stopped at this antique store next door that was officially going out of business tomorrow and everything they had left was on sale for a dollar. I mean....that's pretty hard to pass up. So I took a while and looked around for some pretty great stuff. I got this huge teapot that doesn't have a lid but it's super big and gorgeous and was originally marked for $45, so that's a steal. I got a set of very nice China plates with flowers and such of course, then I got a series of old music books and one cookbook. One of the owners was showing me the music books and telling me a lot of them had come from the same house, and you could trace the inscriptions back and forth- like one would be gifted to a granddaughter by her grandparents and then another would be from the granddaughter to her grandparents, which was just so very cool. A lot of it was old hymns that I've somehow taken a liking to, I'm not entirely sure how that happened lol but there were also some loose music pages they let me have for free that we could use for decorating because my roommate gets all creative with that sorts of stuff. So I ended up spending $12 came out with a bunch of stuff, so that's awesome. I came back to the apartment to find my roommate there with her parents who have come to town for a visit. We chatted for a bit, then I confined myself to my room to get some studying done being that it was almost 4 at this point. So I started by actually watching the quimbee videos, then going back and retaking the quizzes and final, and I think they were pretty helpful. After that I started reviewing my case briefs along with the ones on quimbee to make sure I had all the pertinent information. I did this for a good while before eventually passing out in the middle of my books again, clearly for no good reason being that I slept till 1 o clock. Ugh. I'm not sure exactly what time it was when I fell asleep but I woke up around 8:30 and I figured I should be done with studying for the night. So I went to the den/living room/whatever we call it and finished the last two episodes of 13 reasons why. This was slightly awkward as my roommate and her parents came back and were moving around when the show was throwing around "fuck" and such so I texted my roommate to make sure her parents weren't going to like, get offended by me watching it haha but she said it was fine so I felt better. The last two of course we're very heavy. Finally being done with the series, I have a lot of thoughts. I totally understand the point of view of those calling it dangerous, and it definitely is to the kind of kids who are struggling with these issues- but the thing is, the story isn't aimed at them. This isn't a story of how to be Hannah Baker. It's a story aimed at the bystanders- all the people who did something to contribute or just stood by and let something terrible happen. For them, I think they needed to be able to grasp just how serious this was and how their actions can affect people. The problem of course is that it's going to appeal to kids with mental health issues, like the book appealed to me when I was a suicidal teenager, so we have to be very careful with that. Hopefully any suicidal thoughts or ideation brought on by the show will be accompanied by a desire to reach out for help so they don't have the same ending. That's my hope, anyway. As far as specific moments in the episode, as expected, I could not watch the act itself. As it started I had my hand partially covering my eyes, kind of looking through my fingers, but then when it happened I cringed and covered my eyes immediately because there was just no way I was watching that. I already get so anxious about other portrayals that involve people hurting themselves (even for like, medical necessary reasons and shit, it just freaks me out). But then of course I had to watch the scene where her parents found her, which I knew was coming, and I just found myself sobbing because my heart broke for them so much. I feel selfish for every having thought of putting my parents through that, but I know the truth is I couldn't see past all that was in front of me, I couldn't see any of that which I should've. But it just broke me so much to see that happen and know that it happens to families every single day. Hit me in the gut like a sucker punch. Anyway. The depositions were interesting, it was interesting to see how talked how they did and what questions were asked. Not gonna lie, I would so watch a season 2 based around this trial, but that's probably just because I'm a giant legal nerd. I fucking need Clay's mom to quit the case though. Like I said, with Clay on the subpoena list that is a MASSIVE conflict of interest of truly epic proportions, and would never, ever, ever fly in reality. But mostly I just want her to quit for her son, because she sees how much this is affecting him and she decides she won't be a part of it. That I would love to see, though I really don't know if they'd go down that path as they seem to be sticking pretty firm to her as the lawyer. An article I read giving possible theories of season 2 also offered up the idea of Bryce's rape trial, which holyyyy shit I would watch that in a heartbeat, lol. I was so proud of Jessica by the end when she was going to tell her dad. She wasn't perfect by any means and she did quite a few bad things, but she was such a wounded character and I'm glad she's finally speaking the truth. Justin intrigued me. He at first has the image of the All American athlete with the perfect life, but then you see his home and how he's treated and it's just like shit, man. That's complicated. I have to say though, I was probably most intrigued by Tyler's character. He's SUCH a complex character. He's clearly written to be unsympathetic, but at the same time you do want to sympathize with him, even when another part of you still doesn't want to sympathize with him. He's very complicated in that one. The article suggested that if Tyler goes on his school shooting rampage as was vaguely suggested in the finale, maybe season 2 would be his 13 reasons why, but I don't think that would work in the same way. Taking someone else's life is a hell of a lot different than taking your own, and I think if Tyler killed 13 people nobody would be interested in hearing his sympathetic reasons for doing so. So I don't think that will happen. And then there's Alex. Oh, Alex. I hope he lives. He got shit on unfairly for so much of this series and it just made me sad, and it clearly effected him to the point where he apparently shot himself (though apparently there is a fan theory that Tyler shot him, as indicated by Tyler then taking his picture down). I had mixed feelings about the guidance counselor. On one hand you could tell that he was trying, but on the other he was just fucking up so damn badly and just saying all the wrong things and like, I hate that so many people have had that experience with counselors. I just really hope this doesn't stop people who are struggling from seeking help, because that would be a damn shame. So yeah. I wrote up something to post on Facebook tomorrow that maybe I'll cross-post on here just as a summary of my thoughts moving forward and what our actions should be. I was pretty pleased with how it turned out. Okay, that's it for me tonight. Somehow I'm tired yet again, even though I took a nap not long ago. I'm starting to think this melatonin might be a bit too powerful. Idk, we'll see when finals are over. Luckily I can sleep in tomorrow anyway so it's all good. Goodnight my dearies. Stay lovely.