#as if anyone needed more proof I am a huge nerd

[donovaneagle2098]

A Complete Encyclopedia of the Lore of Every Witcher School

This is a project I've been working on for a long time. The Witcher Schools in general have lore spread across 3 or 4 different sources, so it's very easy to find inaccurate details about each school due to a person only going off of one source without even knowing of the others. Hell, I've been guilty of this in the past. So I've gone out of my way to find every source available for the various Witcher Schools and compile it into one master post, mostly pulling from the standalone Gwent game, and the Witcher TRPG. Without further ado, let's start out with the original school, the Order of Witchers.

Witcher schools are like the Clans of Skellige, subtly different, but largely united by their common ground, and that common ground is the Order of Witchers.

The Order of Witchers began as an experiment by the rogue mages Alzur and his mentor Cosimo Malaspina. They "recruited" tests subjects from orphanages, buying them from neglectful parents, or outright kidnapping street kids.

From Cosimo's Gwent Card:

"Children keep asking him for gifts. He doesn’t know why, but it really helps with finding subjects for his experiments."

The main goal of this project was to create an order of knights artificially mutated and imbued with extreme levels of magic to protect people from a world where, at the time, monsters were often literally around every corner.

The mutation experiments were grueling, and most early candidates died horribly, the girls especially, as the mutagenic compounds the mages were working with at the time were better suited for a boys physiology, and they quickly stopped trying to find a mixture that worked well with women, instead refining the more successful candidate pool. Even with these refinements, however, the Witchers couldn't actually generate much in the way of magical power, at least not nearly as much as those funding the project had hoped for.

These early candidates were encouraged to stick to political neutrality, were told of their duty to protect the common people, and their sword instructor tried to encourage them to take on knightly virtues to live their lives by, though only a few candidates actually bought fully into these particular knightly ideals.

The school developed a training regimen that all later Witcher schools would put their own small twists on. They perfected the whirling sword style, practiced on the Pendulum and Gauntlet training courses. They learned the Witcher Sign magic, created by Cosimo. They were taught hunting and monster lore from experts hired from across the world, and master alchemists crafted the famous Witcher potions.

Ultimately, funding from this school would be pulled due to the Witcher candidates lack of truly powerful magic ability, and the order would start to fracture. Witchers dissatisfied with their lot in life after being forcibly mutated, and railing against the Order's enforced ideals began getting combatative with other Witchers over petty contracts. At this time, contracts were so plentiful that there was no real need to fight over them, but these dissident Witchers did so anyway out of a desire for autonomy and to be free of the Order's code, which they saw as having no practical purpose to prepare new Witchers for the road ahead, and hypocritical as it was forced on them by the mages who never cared for the Witcher's lives. This culminated in one such outspoken Witcher, Arnaghad, attacking another Witcher who poached a contract from him.

After being forced into the painful life of a Witcher, Arnaghad loathed anyone who imposed their will upon him, the Order and it's codes especially. He led an attack on the Order proper, aided by fellow Witchers who respected his defiance towards authority. Once they were beaten back, these dissidents fled to the Amell mountain range to start the next Witcher school, the School of the Bear.

The School of the Bear is one of the most misunderstood schools of them all, owing to the first major lore drop about them being largely in-universe rumors and conjecture surrounding the school, and as such I may need to go more in depth. The two major misconceptions stemming from this is the rumor about their armor, which claims that they don't bother dodging like the other Witchers and instead take blows head on (generally a bad idea, according to Geralt in the books), and the rumor about them attacking most Witchers they meet.

I contacted Cody Pondsmith, who wrote a great deal of this lore, and he mentioned that Bears do often threaten or even fight other Witchers, but in a very Skellige way, only to ward off the other Witcher from contracts they want. The Bears just want to live lives where they aren't commanded by others, and were trained especially brutally, and so will fight for what contracts they want. However they will NEVER kill another Witcher, just draw first blood (outside of duels to decide who runs the school, which occasionally turn deadly. It's unknown if Arnaghad has ever lost these duels) and if that other Witcher stands up to the Bear, they'll let them have the contract and if they meet up and work together enough even maybe become a lifelong friend.

To quote Cody himself: "I like to think of the Witcher Order as a big family in which the Bear School is the blunt, no-nonsense brother. He can be prickly and a bit of a bully sometimes but he takes his job seriously and he can be a good drinking buddy if you get to know him. Not the friendliest of people but far from evil. If you stand up to him and show him you're not afraid of him, he'll respect you."

The other rumor is also an exaggeration. The Witcher TRPG mentions that the Bear armor was designed with flexibility in mind, and while they trained to take on weaker blows with their armor and "mastery of the Quen sign", they also trained how to move quickly in their armor if they needed to dodge a fatal blow. The Bears also still trained on the gauntlet and pendulum like the other schools. Cody Pondsmith also confirmed that the Bears are just as agile as the other Witchers.

The Bears' core philosophy is almost very Lambert like, viewing Witcher's work not as a duty, or knightly virtue, but as difficult, brutal work. The only reason they stick to this work is to do a job where no one else commands them and they're left in peace. They focus only on the practical aspects of their profession, and as such discourage their students from working together in training, since Witchers work alone. As Arnaghad said, "We pass through life alone, better get used to it!" As a result, Bears are very isolated, preferring their own company to that of other Witchers, and were encouraged to value their autonomy and self care above all else. The Bears' final trial involved climbing to the top of Mt. Gorgon and back, and any who died from the cold were left "as a sobering reminder of the dangers of their trade". Despite this, the TRPG has a list of random early training events Witchers from all schools can have, and Bears could sometimes make friends amongst their fellow witchers in training just like members of every other school.

Once the new Bear students left their keep of Haern Caduch, most wouldn't return to winter there, unlike the other schools. They developed a reputation as being terrible to fight, and for being firebrands, often speaking very bluntly, not matter who they spoke to, authority included. Once such Witcher, named Gerd, was asked by a Duchess to help kill her father. He insulted her so badly he got a warrant for his death placed on him, though all the peasants he met spoke rather highly of him. As a result, Bears found it easiest to make friends amongst the similarly minded Dwarves and Gnomes of the Amell mountains, and people of the Skellige Isles. According to Cody Pondsmith, this is the main reason the Bears stayed together as a group at all. They valued autonomy above all else and so long as they functioned as a Witcher school, they were left alone and no rulers would try and command them. They also take their ideals of free will and apply it to others, never seeking to rule over others. They simply wish to live their lives free.

One of the original Witchers to side with Arnaghad, Ivar Evil-Eye, had extra mutations done to him by the Order of Witchers during his trial, allowing him to see into other worlds. In these visions he saw the Wild Hunt rampaging across them, conquering them. Ivar became obsessed with stopping them, and tried to kill Arnaghad to take command and lead the Bear school against the Hunt. This failed, so he and his supporters left to form the Viper School.

The Witchers of the Viper school, based in Gorthur Gvaed, were said to be the most secretive, taking contracts as both assassins and witchers. They at first dedicated themselves finding a way to stop the Wild Hunt, amassing a massive library on the subject. Fighting with an unpredictable, ambushed based variant of the Witcher fighting style, Viper Witchers employed poisons, brewed by skilled Viper alchemists, on both their swords, and a dagger in their offhand, their biggest deviation from typical Witcher combat techniques.

Vipers, for an unknown reason, eventually forgot their purpose. In his time, Letho of Gullet could only guess at why the school had been founded. Instead, they became famous for their skill at political killings, dealing with the nobility of the southern countries before Nilfgaard had even become a large-scale power.

Viper students had a different type of trial, after more grueling than typical training. Instead of any physical task like the other schools, the Viper students were given a pet at their induction to the school. And to graduate, they simply had to hunt it down and kill it, showing their lack of mercy.

While most of those who supported Ivar followed him to the Viper school, one group broke off and west east, across the Korath desert, to Zerikania, founding the School of the Manticore.

The School of the Manticore was founded by the Witcher Iwan, from the School of the Bear, following Ivar's assassination attempt on Arnaghad. They got work in the Korath desert as caravan guards, earning the attention of the Zerrikanian Queen after a deadly battle with a manticore. The Queen sponsored the Witchers of the Manticore, making them the only school to be officially backed by any government. They were experts on potions and anti-toxins, a necessity of dealing with the poisonous creatures of the Korath desert.

A unique adaptation to the monsters of the desert also had Manticore Witchers employ shields into the whirling combat of their Witcher training. Given their extra support, the Manticores held two keeps, Behelt Nar and Bailsuf Alsarea, on opposite sides of the desert, so that they might better patrol and guard those within it.

The Manticore is the final school to come from the schism Arnaghad had led. The other voices of dissent against the ideals of the Order would soon hear of these new schools and decide to break off as well to form the School of the Cat.

The School of the Cat was founded out of a response to the hatred and distrust Witchers received. They desired to be seen in a better, more respectful light. Ironically, they would end up doing the opposite. The Cat School stole away with several of the mutagens needed to make more Witchers and headed to Ebbing, and Stygga Citadel, where they would begin to experiment on human-elf children in an attempt to perfect the mutations. Its possible that the mages at this time furthered experiments on making women Witchers, but this is not confirmed yet.

Attempting to make a name for themselves, the Cats hired themselves out as spies, assassins, and mercenaries, genuinely earning them some respect from common folk for killing bandits.

In their attempts to perfect the mutations and further dull the emotions of their Witchers, the Cat school experimented harshly on a group of children that resulted in the opposite, giving these Witchers hightened emotional responses instead. These students, cast aside and left for dead, fled into the arms of a group of elves, who agreed to support them if this branch of the Cat School supported the elves' fight for freedom.

This branch, led by Gezras of Leyda, attached itself to the Dyn Marv caravan and traveled the continent, lending their services mostly to those nonhumans who could pay, while the main Cats at Stygga ended up getting assaulted by angry royals incited by their political maneuvering. This left the Dyn Marv branch as the only functional element of the School of the Cat. These Cats would train students' agility in a light, fast Elven take on Witcher fighting style, and would train their balance by making students walk a tightrope, starting low to the ground at first, but getting higher and higher each attempt.

The Cat school's breaking of Witcher neutrality and reputation for bloodlust earned Witchers such a bad name that those in the Order who most cherished their old swordmaster's knightly virtues would leave to form the School of the Griffin.

The School of the Griffin, led by Erland of Larvik, wished to truly achieve the dream of the original Order, and Gryphon, the Order's sword instructor. They traveled north to Kaer y Saren, an old fortress the Order once used, and cleansed it of the spirits of those who died in the first Witcher mutations. From there, they began a Witcher school focused on respectability and honor, believing in their knightly duties. And it worked, somewhat. The Griffins were sometimes advisors to nobility, and seen as honorable, but the prejudice against Witchers would never leave, and most would never see a Griffin Witcher as anything more than a monster playing at being a knight.

These Witchers tried their best to cushion their students against the pain of their lives on the Witcher's path, and were more brotherly than the other schools, though their knightly virtues and brotherhood were oftentimes cold comfort to Griffin students.

From the Witcher TRPG Sourcebook:

"Witcher I knew couldn’t really remember much ‘bout his past. Heh, too young to really form a lotta memories when they took him to Kaer Y Seren. Told me that the memory he did have made the mutations easier. Poor bastard clung to a memory of his pa takin’ him on a horse for a ride in the fields. Don’t know why he chose that one. Probably the only normal memory he had."

The Griffins amassed a huge library of magical knowledge, though they could only push sign magic so far, and the books were likely wasted being in a Witcher library. The library held several incredibly famous tomes on magic within, and was the envy of full mages across the Northern Realms. Despite all their efforts, they never could achieve their goal of bringing about the Order of Witcher's vision. The Griffins even had their own breaches of Witcher tradition in pursuit of their knightly heroics. An often said mantra of the Griffin school in Gwent is "To slay dragons! Tis our knightly duty!" despite dragons being largely innocent, intelligent beings who mostly wish to be left in peace.

Code Pondsmith had this to say about the Griffins:

"The Griffins stuck to the knightly traditions that the original witcher order tried to uphold. As a result it's safe to say that the Griffin school taught that monsters were the enemy of mankind and must be defeated. I don't think they would all be blindly overzealous but they wouldn't have any qualms about slaying sapient monsters if they believed it was for the good of mankind. Similarly, it's likely that they would side with humans in any conflict between monsters and humans. In a way, the Griffins' knightly virtues made them easier to manipulate than the other witcher schools. They were bound to protect humanity and thus were more likely to be convinced to hunt a monster if a local noble or alderman claimed it would be for the good of the people. This is the case with the dragons. The kingdoms and jewelers guilds of the North convinced the Griffin School that dragons were a blight upon humanity and the Griffins started slaying dragons regardless of whether all of the dragons they slew deserved it. Additionally, the knightly values might make Griffin school witchers more likely to take pity on desperate humans and work for free."

Those few Witchers remaining in the Order by now traveled to northern Kaedwyn, and started a school based on their tempered, traditionalist, and realistic view on the Order's goals. They based themselves in Kaer Morhen and dubbed themselves the School of the Wolf.

The School of the Wolf is the most famous Witcher school, known for their professionalism and efficiency. They don't kill humans like the Viper or Cat. Aren't bold or brash like the Bear, or put Knightly virtues above Witcher ideals like the Griffin. I mean, anyone reading far this knows who the Wolf Witchers are, so I'm not going to get into to much detail. They're Geralt's school. Ciri's school.

They took a balanced approached to Witcher life and as such trained Witchers who were the best adjusted out of the schools, with neither the Bear's harshness nor the Griffin's egocentrism. For this, Wolf Witchers were lauded all across the Continent.

With all Schools formed, the Golden Age of Witchers began, at first with the Bears and Griffins making peace. From Erland of Larvik's Journal (The TRPG's monster manual):

"Surprisingly enough the fracturing of the witcher order had lead to a more effective organization for us witchers. Spread across the Continent and each making more witchers independently, it was no longer the task of 60 or 70 witchers to patrol the entire Continent from Nilfgaard to Kovir. Each school patrolled their own path and when a Gryphon met with a Bear each knew they had their territory and any infighting wouldn’t be worth the bloodshed. We managed to broker peace and live as somewhat estranged brothers rather than bitter enemies"

Witchers at this time were seen largely as heroes, with their detractors' voices largely simmering underneath. With Witchers around to kill monsters, people felt safe and so ignored any misgivings they might have.

Witchers, no matter the school, aren't too dissimilar from each other, and so the Cintinent at large formed an overall opinion of the Witchers based on the traits they all shared. From the TRPG:

"In the heyday of witchers there were many many seperate schools, which all mutated new witchers and taught them the neccesary skills to hunt monsters and lift curses. While it’s generally agreed that there is a core set of skills required to a be a witcher,

each school taught its students differently and focused on different aspects of witcher training. Thus, witchers from different schools often act differently and go about their jobs in similar but varied ways."

During this time, the Schools all produced hundreds of Witchers, and each was their own person, With their own preferences and personality, despite the schools themselves having reputations for Witchers with only a few certain traits. For instance, the Bear Witcher Ivo of Belhaven fought like a Viper or Cat Witcher, but in personality was a perfect fit for the Bear School with how standoffish he could be. The schools kept to their own territory at first, but as time went on and contracts got ever more rare, these already thin lines fell apart and the schools stopped caring much about territories.

They also all customized their gear in different ways, usually keeping their gear in similar fashion to their school's, as its what they trained in an were used to. For example, Bear Witcher Junod of Belhaven wore what appears to be a set of Wolf School armor he had modified to fit Bear Witcher style.

Witchers also at this time experimented with signs. The Griffins obviously focused on making them more powerful, and the Bears pushed Quen to a level beyond any other school. But the most interesting case is that of Warrit, a blind Viper Witcher who used the lesser known Suppire sign as a form of echolocation.

The Golden age lasted for around 150-200 years or so, ending around 1160 when the monster populations had been hunted down enough that people's main concern stopped being the monsters, and became the Witchers themselves.

The Griffin School, refusing to share the knowledge of its library, was destroyed by jealous mages. A group of peasants and mages attacked the Wolves' keep out of nowhere. The Bears failed to destroy a powerful cabal of vampires and, when peasants rioted and came for their keep, chose to disband rather than engage in needless slaughter. The Cat's keep of Stygga is destroyed, but the Dyn Marv chapter may still be alive and well. The Manticore School failed to protect an important prince from a fire elemental, and so lost their funding and closed. The Viper refused to support the Nilfgaardian usurper and were destroyed.

If you've made it this far, holy shit, thank you! I hope you have a great day!

#the witcher #Witcher schools #Witcher lore #as if anyone needed more proof I am a huge nerd #I hope this genuinely does help people though #School of the Cat #School of the Bear #School of the Wolf #School of the Griffin #School of the Viper #School of the Manticore #Wrote this because I have writer's block for my fic #geralt of rivia #lambert #eskel #vesemir #Ciri #arnaghad #Erland of Larvik #Ivar Evil-eye #Iwan #Gezras of Leyda #Witcher Role Playing Game #Witcher TRPG

[the25thviolence]

Writer Interview Thing

So this weekend I--- Lets roll this back a tad. So the beginning of this week I got super motivated to be creative but I work 4 day weeks of 10 hour shifts.  So I didn’t really time to do anything till now.  I want to finish 3 bits of writing this weekend and this is one of them. 

1. When did you start writing?

Actually writing in this form?  I’m not sure honestly.  I remember as like a teen writing poetry a little and writing my mom like a nice mothers day poem I made up.  She was convinced I took it from somewhere.  

Early writing was based on just too many feelings and or emotions inside of me and just needing a release.  Writing after that was because I could write to someone I cared about.  Which led to the early stages of this kind of writing.  

I actually pushed more into this because way back in the day when people rode around on dinosaurs a guy found some of my very first stories on a blog website.  He thought they were funny which is why some of my stories are the way they are today.  He also hosted my original website and writing for a few years back than. 

2. Favorite story you’ve written?

As the person who picked most these questions I don’t know why I fucking picked this one.  

I’m not sure, I really enjoyed writing the Summer Time Madness part with (Captain) Sean and the Kraken.  I have a huge soft spot for any part of a story where I use the ocean as symbolism for washing someone away.  

3. Favorite character?

I don’t think I remember all my characters to be honest.  It would be an insult to my own creation to not say Sean and the Girl/Princess/Ashley.  They’ve been in my head for over a decade now. 

Currently I really do enjoy Claire and the Baristas though. 

4. Best hidden message in a story you’ve written?

Hidden seems to be an abstract thought to me.  When I feel something is hidden it is apparently very obvious.  And when I feel something is obvious it is not noticed at all.  I think for now my favorite hidden.... You know I haven’t really fleshed this part out, written it, or come to a concrete thought on the matter.  But a certain character mite have connections to the girl from the star character from a very old story of mine.  Well Claire mite have that connection.  I’m not sure yet.  But the stars themselves mite be coming back to my stories. 

5. Why so many spelling and grammer errors? 

Short, because I can.

Long, hmmmm.  I didn’t like grow up smart.  I didn’t really start reading till like the 4th grade but than by the 5th grade I was devouring books.  Do to many personal issues in life (people dying and being extremely poor etc) I didn’t really try to do anything in school.  I graduated high school with one of the lowest possible GPAs because I thought I was going work at mcdonalds after I graduated.  Turns out I was so poor the government gave me money for college and I was able to attend community college and get an associates for free because of that.  The only and most depressing silver lining to having a parent die when your 12 years old. 

Basically I have no real education on the matter of writing.  

Also I can’t draw for shit. 

I can’t sing or make music for shit.  

I can’t paint. 

I can write, anyone can write.  I view writing much like someone would view painting.  Each word but a stroke on the canvas.  And every error or mistake but a drop of paint misplaced.  Now apart of something greater and beyond my control. 

I know its wrong but I heavily prefer my writing be a one shot.  Written once and released into the world.  I have slowly, very slowly, come to terms with editing and proof reading and all that nerd shit.  Its a process I am still heavily refusing to this day. 

Yes, grammer is spelt wrong on purpose you heathens. 

6. Any sneak peaks or future plans for writing?

Hmm

If the Moon can be apart of the story.  

A vessel of power. 

A weapon. 

A dramatic bit of symbolism. 

What of the sun than? 

7. Can you explain “The Void” and “Post Void”? 

Many parts of my life have shoved there whole hand into my chest and squeezed.  Every time it happens it feels worse than the time before.  I would call my high school years a void and everything after a post void.  I would call some years after losing someone I cared about in my twenties a void than post void.  And this rehash of loving people and losing people another void than post void.  Depression is crippling.  Depression has ruined every single tooth inside my mouth.  To the scars on my body to the tattoo on my wrist.  

Simply a void is when life wraps its cold star ridden hands around my neck and holds me still till I either die or stand back up. 

And post void is everything that happens after.  Consequences and all.  Standing back up always comes at a price and I pay it greedily each time. 

8. Does anyone in your family know that you write?

No? I guess some know I scribbled at one point as a hobby.  But no one for sure knows about Once Was A Stranger.  

If anyone is curious as to why.  I don’t trust my family with the deep bits of my existence.  As the youngest of 6 kids nothing I do will ever have a strong meaning. 

9.  “Why am I not a main character?”

I can’t tell if this a question from my good friend twchh or from Sean himself.  Sir, I could never capture your essence in simple words.  God could give me the canopy of the night sky and I still wouldn’t be able to put you into mere words with all that space. 

10. “How much of Once Was A Stranger is actually inspired by/based on reality and how much of it is me misreading it as that.”

Warning: A friend/peer/tortured proof reader asked me this question so I up chucked a metric ton of words on the subject.  This is the last question here and its full of non-organized words. 

This is going to be a really really really long answer and I will try my best to make it as coherent as possible.  I’ve reread this story multiple times to better answer this. 

Its so hard to explain everything without shoving 86 links with 86 different stories down your throat.  Once Was A Stranger was every bit of writing I ever tried to write in my life.  I was finally able to reign in my scatter brain and write a complete story in the style I desired.  I have some small regrets still on some parts.  I had really big expectations for the market scene where the Stranger gives his big speech.  I tried for a really long time to write that part and just couldn’t do it.  Which is why the scene is so.... off center and cuts off.   It works just well enough to fit its role in the story but I wanted so much more from that section of the story. 

I am already off track. 

I’ll start with the characters. 

Sean

Sean for all intensive purposes is my first character.  Like my first character ever.  Sean is a major carry over from my first stories I’ve written.  Why the name? Because I liked it.  Sometimes it reminds me of the Shawn meme from that one video game (SHAWN!).  Sean’s shtick is that he was a thought, a happy little day dream, a fantasy trapped in some girls head.  And he was used by the girl to make herself happy.  But one day he started slowly growing free will and becoming alive.  He would turn against the girl in her dreams trying to escape.  The girl would often “reset” him back to a basic little fantasy but suddenly it didn’t work.  I never finished this story, I knew how it was going to end, but I never finished it.  

Princess

Princess is just the---the girl---every single girl from every story.  Most precisely the girl from Beads that used Sean as an escape inside her own head.  I used to know a person a lifetime ago.  A very very very long lifetime ago.  This character was based off of them and the relationship I had with them. 

Jim

Now this one is funny.  While rereading the story I didn’t realize that this mite be read as a problematic name for people who knew me.  I’m not sure if this was a separate story or a part of Beads (Beads was my first too much for me to handle large scale failed story attempt).  

But Jim is named after an old one off character.  His full name was Jim the goldfish.  Jim the goldfish lived on an alien planet full of goldfish.  Jim’s wife left him and he was drafted into the army to fight in non copyright infringing battle suits (much like gundams but totally not gundams).  In this story the ruling class, the Kardashians (yes, those ones) were battling revolutionaries to keep there power.   They got this power  by abusing the exchange rates between there planet and earth.  And they used that money to get amazing plastic surgery and become famous on earth.   The “Sean” character, a guy in a pair of white nikes drifting thru space (was and still am a huge kid cudi fan) was drifting past this scene in the story.  

Stranger

Once Was A Stranger.   Not much in the story really takes inspiration from my life till the end.  But the title.  The act of writing this story.  The life I breathed into it and the immortal bit of lightning it threw back at me.   The title is very strongly based on events from my life.  Thus he was titled.  For he was a stranger.  Much like myself. 

List of all the references:

Stars: I have a great personal desire to escape life, all of it.  And stars are about as far away as you can get.  I once wrote a story about a fallen star who met a strange boy.  Boy and girl.  Sean and princess, etc.  Boy obviously had problems at home.  Girl was a star exploding with life not wanting to go back to the night sky.  Not that bad of a story I think this still exists and is readable somewhere.

Succulent plants:  A small reference to a person someone tried to make me friends with and the interaction of wanting to own plants but not being capable of keeping them alive so they were suggested to me.  I thought they best fit the character for this story.  Kind of like a foreshadow to Jim having a darker bit of torment inside of him. 

The Actual Moon

Honestly, I have no real clue.  I wanted something great to destroy.  I have more to explore and write about in future stories so I won’t get into too much detail.  Big kid cudi fan (man on the moon).  Its in space and away from here.  Big and bright and in the sky.   Also completely crazy concept to try and fight it.  

King/Princess/Royalty

The girl is referred to as Princess as like an emotional show of importance.  The way the girl from the star story was a star.  And in that same story her father was the morning star always searching for her till the last moment each morning.  The princess had a king.  Someone of authority who did not like the stranger.  What? A girl with a father who didn’t like the boy.  Crazy.  That’s totally never happened to anyone before.  

The napkins in the end scene.

Unicorn/Bear/Mysterious monster

These are all references to old bit of writing pieces or short stories I’ve written.  Sean even notes his white sneakers aka the white nikes story. And this is all a deeper reference to the fact all those stories have long been deleted.  I had a...

I had a. 

A blackhole void consumed my life.  

An irl friend had to come grab me out my house one day to make me move.  

I deleted almost every single part of my online presence because of that.  

Many references in Once Was A Stranger are from long deleted stories. I think I wanted to acknowledge them and pay my respects even though I was the one that deleted those stories.

Repeated phrases/bits

Because I find them entertaining and this was my story.  The telling time by the stars or sun.  Repeated phrases.  Etc etc etc.  My favorite part of Once Was A Stranger was slightly noting the writer was apparent to the characters.   It wasn’t breaking the 4th wall in my opinion because the writer, myself, was in fact also a character in this story.  

Sliding between Sean and Jim and different parts of the story

This was a major shoutout to Beads and to what that story could of been if I was a better writer at the time.  To make it seem like the Princess was trapped between stories.  A turn on the original Beads where Sean was strapped between stories.  

Sean/Jim 

Were they the same?  Different sides of the same coin.  Not to spoil future stories yet to be written too much.  They represented the split between my long time main character. I’m not sure if there any really parallels between nice Jim becoming angry and angry Sean becoming nice.  I think I was in too deep of an emotional space at the time of writing to really know. 

Baristas

I have no idea.  That just sprouted in my brain.  They became apart of the story than proceeded to get there own “spinoff” story.  

Late game writing

Yeah yeah yeah yeah

Yep

You read these parts

I guess I should spell this out. 

Knife.

The void

This all hurts to talk about honestly. 

I’ve been kicking the words for this around in my head lately.  Hoping to write something that would relieve the pain a little.  

I was in love with someone.  It was unrequited.  And it caused a forest of stars to sprout and take root in my heart.  And it made someone very very very close to me hate me.  Hate me so much.  It felt like they stabbed me in my chest with a knife.  Trying to kill the forest of stars inside my heart.  To kill that love.  That unrequited love.  A deep bit of selfishness shared all around.  All because we loved the same person.  

As far as the story is concerned.  Sean, The Stranger, twisted and turned.  And now the knife was in there hand.  New name and all.   

The Ocean

As far back as Beads I have always used the ocean as a way to cleanse.  Clean.  Restart.  Change.  Give birth to.  The ocean is as much life as it is monstrous and uncontrollable.  The ocean cleansed this story and gave a rebirth to the boy and the girl.  Or a death.  They walked purposely into the open arms of the ocean.  

Ashley

This is the shortest answer.  Big fan of Halsey. 

I’m not very good at putting things in order.  Jesus H Christ that much is obvious.  I hope they shined random bits of light on some things. 

This is the end of this bit of writing.  And I am completely open to follow up questions.  I know only one person mite have them but you know how to contact me and scream insanity into my ear. 

[pencilscratchins]

Okay okay okay I'm obsessed with your Zukka headcanons, more please?

okay this one got long lmaOO

— zuko buys sokka many nice things. he says “my boyfriend enjoys nice things...fine silks...jewels...who am i to deny him this?”and suki says “please zuko these are the royal funds—“

— before they know the next avatar is korra, zuko hopes and prays the next avatar is a swamp bender, because he knows if they’re from the north water tribe it’ll be a whole thing and if they’re from the south he’ll literally never stop hearing about it

— in the beginning, zuko has no qualms about courting sokka. he’s the son of an ally country’s leader like yeah classic political marriage like what’s the issue (other than his own stifling awkwardness of course.)

— — sokka has the brain cell so he’s probably hesitant to jump into a relationship. they’re both public figures and gay marriage was just decriminalized— zukos already a contentious leader. not to mention, sokka has dated royalty before and the devotion to duty only lead to heartbreak. 

— — — kataras the one who straightens him out. she is like “we gave our entire childhoods to these countries— don’t let some grandeur of responsibility keep you from the happiness i know you deserve”

— whenever they’re separated for long periods of time, sokka writes these gorgeous, long winded, purple prose letters about how much he loves and misses zuko, and his travels etc that are upwards of 20 pgs

— — zuko responds with “saw a frog today 👍” and sokka chokes up like “he has such a way with words”

— sokka sleeps on the right, zuko on the left

— just being around each other is enough to put them in way better moods. when one of them is gone, both are insufferable to be around.

— sokka goes on a life changing field trip with redemption arc!azula to find the stone for zuko’s engagement necklace and they bond & really connect in a weird way bc like... theyre sorta of the smartest people either of them know

— — meanwhile zuko, toph, and katara go on a life changing field trip for the metal for sokka a royal hairpiece and accidentally create probending 

— sometimes it will get reeeeall quiet and sokka will just lean over and whisper to zuko “you know your great grandfathers were fucking right?”

— zuko obviously has days where he needs to just like escape and not to talk to anyone, so sokka will take the crown in his absence. 

— — he spends those days doing all the shit zuko hates doing so he doesn’t have to

— sokka still struggles with feeling useless sometimes and thought it baffles zuko how he could possibly think that, he immediately will try to rectify it.

— — so zuko will show him the proof of a history textbook he had to approve, and show him every chapter dedicated to everything sokka invented, planned, or lead during the war and after to prove how important sokka is.

— sokka will be writing and when zuko sits really close to him on his right side, hell just switch the brush over to the left to hold his husband’s hand. 

— when korra is first taken in by the white lotus, sokka insists they spend some time down there. zuko tutors her firebending and she loves him, but she’s obsessed with sokka who sneaks her out and teaches her sword fighting. 

— not really a zukka head canon but when zuko first starts sleeping with the group at the air temple, he looks over and sees aang just levitating a few inches off the ground and is like “what the fuck” sokkas like “oh yeah that’s how he sleeps you get used to it”

— when katara finds out sokka helped toph have suyin, she’s like “it’s so touching that you want our families to be forever intertwined and for our children to always be connected!” and tophs like uh totally yeah 

— — nobody tells her the interaction went “sokka be the father it’ll be funny” and sokka said let me ask my husband and zukos went “lmao do it it’ll be so funny”

— izumi ice dodges when she comes to age and crushes it, which makes hakoda and sokka both cry. 

— — when iroh II wants to ice dodge, izumi refuses. she is however not supported by her fathers who are like “you did it! it’s a right of passage, izumi” “dont be a nerd, izumi”

— zuko, being a huge nerd, does indeed have iroh style his hair before their first date and sokka laughs so hard he cries

— sometime straight people will be like “oh the ladies must be sad you two are off the market!” and they will respond “our ex girlfriends are dating each other.”

— their wedding is extremely opulent, as pure sokkas request. zuko would’ve married him in a broom closet.

— zuko calls sokka “socks” and sokka calls him “zuks” 

— sokka is very much that guy who wants to pretend he’s all cool but brings up his boyfriend all the time

— — “ugh it’s so hot i can’t breathe” “oh my boyfriend breathes,”

#hairasuntouchedaspartoftheamazon #zukka #headcanons #head canons #long post #read more #under the cut #you gusy encourage me too much lmao #i like how i always sneak a few gaang hc in there because i love those idiots smh #ask #not art #1k

[tendercoretroglodyke]

... I’m interested in legitimately gay Reese (I assume one piece of evidence is “look at what they’re doing and tell me you’re not gay”)

okay this is like 2 days late but this is why reese malcolminthemiddle is legitimately gay:

(side note: did anyone need a queer media thesis paper or something... I am willing to share lmao)

so none of this is like... rock solid evidence or anything but I need to believe at least one main character of a show is gay and/or trans to maintain interest and reese is the most plausible gay character. also it’s early 2000′s so he just gets a lot of vaguely homophobic jokes lmao

first of all, yes, the biggest piece of evidence he’s gay is those lines from that episode I quoted the other day--thinking malcolm is gay, he tries to show his support by giving him a gay porno: “’Naught Pool Boys 3!’ I watched 10 or 12 of these, and this one seems to have the most stuff you guys like.” and when malcolm says he isn’t gay, reese responds “Malcolm. Check out what those guys are doing in that movie, and THEN tell me you’re not gay.”-- so, 1) reese sat down and watched like a dozen gay porn movies to ““find a good one for his gay brother”” and 2) he thinks malcolm would reconsider his heterosexuality if he watched what was in that movie, implying that HE reconsidered his sexuality after watching that movie, or at the very least found it hot

in the same episode, the character tricking malcolm into thinking reese is gay lists the following as evidence: he obsesses over his hair and his looks, loves his gourmet cooking, has a bunch of magazines covered in comically muscular men, and that he’s angry and acts like a jerk because he’s “dealing with something weird and confusing.” now obviously, the obsession with hair/looks can be chalked up to the fact that he’s a teenage boy, and there’s nothing inherently gay about enjoying cooking. the dozen magazines of muscle-bound men could certainly be taken as gay evidence, though, and it IS established in the show that his entire bully persona is his way of masking his inner feelings and insecurities. there’s literally a whole episode where he & malcolm realize they have no friends because they act like little shits to push people away because they’re afraid of rejection and/or abandonment from their peers. they ostracize themselves before they can be ostracized by the other students at school. I could probably write a whole other essay on reese’s psyche tbqh lmao there’s a shocking amount there!!

of the brothers who are actually old enough to be attracted to girls (reese, malcolm, and francis), he shows the least interest. now bear with me here. you might be thinking, “well, yeah, it’s malcolm’s show, we’re not gonna see things from other people’s perspective!” but that is actually surprisingly untrue, the show is very much equally shown from each family members’ perspectives. starting about s2, when malcolm is in early middle school, he starts getting crushes on girls and pursuing them. francis goes after a few women in the first couple seasons and then marries a woman we see a lot throughout the show. 

in the roughly... 130?? episodes I have watched so far, nearly all of reese’s “interest” in girls involve either: competition with malcolm, genuinely just liking her as a friend, or some completely ulterior motive. the only exception to this I can think of is in the early seasons where he has a crush on a cheerleader and tries to get on her good side by joining the cheerleading squad, which the writers clearly set up as a way to make gay jokes about reese. let me give you a few examples of his relationships with girls

the first relationship we see him in is with a “stupid girl” that malcolm tried (and failed) to date, and the main reason they get together is that they think on the same wavelength and genuinely seem to enjoy hanging out. they take breaks from their bro chats to make out every once in a while. eventually he gets her to break up with him because he doesn’t want to go to the school dance with her (he doesn’t want to go at all). years later, he’s dating some girl we meet for like 5 minutes, before he goes to confess to her that she’s the first girl he’s ever loved. she then breaks up with him. he’s sad, but taking it fairly well. he’s about to leave when he sees malcolm hiding under the bed, and learns that he stole his girlfriend. he then runs away to join the army. he was clearly MUCH more upset that his brother stole his girlfriend than he was that his girlfriend broke up with him. there are many more instances of him and malcolm competing for a girl’s affections, and he seems mostly motivated by the competition itself.

in addition to “stupid girl,” he also manufactures an “attraction” to his female army buddy in the last season. the premise of this episode is that his old army buddy (a girl he play-wrestles with and insults like he would his own brothers) comes to visit him, and malcolm convinces reese that she’s attracted to him, and that reese’s nervousness at learning that fact is proof he’s in love with her. there’s a misunderstanding where reese asks her if she has certain “feelings” and she says she does, but what she ACTUALLY means is that she has a crush on reese’s MOM. she’s a lesbian. reese later propositions her (saying he’s saved his virginity for this--he’s probably about 18 here), and when she says omg no im gay, he is HUGELY relieved they can go back to being friends. CLASSIC mlm/wlw friendship moment. 

there’s an episode where these cute girls pick up reese (& nerds) to kiss in front of their boyfriends to make them jealous. reese is all for it, and when malcolm argues that it’s not worth his dignity and the beating he’ll get from the girl’s boyfriend, reese counters that that’s WHY he wants to do this--he’s completely invisible at school, and thinks getting beaten up for kissing some guy’s girlfriend will at least make him known around school. at no point does he indicate he’s actually attracted to this girl, and when it comes time to kiss her, he finds the weakest excuse to run away at the last minute. 

im not gonna list all of these but there’s more lmao

the following is a random assortment of one-off gay jokes and out-of-context lines with gay reese implications, often homophobically bc its early 2000′s writing:

says “I’m gay” to a girl to give malcolm a better shot at her

(again in competition with malcolm) tries to flirt with a girl by spraying milk in her face as the punchline to a joke, which is. well. hm. self-sabotaging, to say the least!!

Reese: “Do you think it’s right to totally change who you are and turn your back on EVERYTHING you believe in, just to impress a hot guy??” [his dad gives a long, blank stare, before asking:] “...Burt Reynolds hot, or Sting hot?”

“YEAH I like clouds! I call them sky kittens :)” (I just think that one’s sweet!)

“Look, Christie, here’s the thing. When I first met you, I was just messing around. But we’ve gotten so close that, now... I really like you! I can’t keep this up anymore. I’m not the person you think I am. I’ve been pretending since the day I met you. It’s so hard having to constantly cover my tracks to keep my story straight... and I don’t WANT to anymore! I’m tired of living this lie! I’m done with it. I’m sorry.”

he catfishes some guy to blackmail him, but is implied to continue the flirtation even after the catfishing/blackmail is revealed

reese is, technically, married to a man. this particular plot point is played as a joke and manages to be both racist and homophobic, so I won’t go into it. but I believe he is still married to that man. technically.

reese takes care of a huge box full of caterpillars until they pupate and become beautiful butterflies. I feel like there’s some kind of gay coming out metaphor here somewhere.

I think there are a couple other times where he comments on a guy’s attractiveness but I couldn’t find specific instances.

In conclusion: Reese is a deeply repressed gay kid who was socialized SO thoroughly as an early 2000′s straight boy that, despite his attraction for men and his obvious compulsory heterosexuality, he still cannot admit to himself that he is gay even as he enters adulthood. Furthermore, his subconscious frustration about this fact is turned outward to form the “schoolyard bully” costume he uses to mask his insecurities and keep others from getting too close to him. 

Thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. I could be convinced to come back for another talk about how Dewey is trans or about how each and every member of that family is neurodivergent in entirely different ways. Assuming anyone has read this far in the first place!!

#sorry this was so long lmao I legit spent 2 hours on this #I have 2 modes: not doing the thing and overdoing the thing #hey anon if you actually see this I'd appreciate a quick message saying so lmao I'd hate to write all this only for you to miss it #I'll probably rb sometime tomorrow at least #also liz if you're reading this i was GONNA add a bit about francis' gay potential like you mentioned but I ran out of steam so remind me t #i think reese has the most gay potential tho #mitm #malcolm in the middle #anonymous #Anonymous

[alderaani]

Embers

summary: After Umbara, Boil learns how to endure, and how to reclaim pieces of his brothers marching on | AO3 | series

warnings: canonical character death, grief, animal injury + mentions of animal death (completely not explicit, on the level of canon-typical violence).

a/n: finally another part of my 100 clone prompts - the rest of the series is linked above! i know there’s not much in canon to support Waxer being an animal lover, but i wanted to give Gree a friend to nerd out with and it’s cute. also gotta pay homage to @nibeul’s wonderful art here - while I wasn’t consciously inspired by it, it hits on v similar themes and is just beautiful like...that image of waxer holding up numa lives in my head rent free.

-

Insects swirled in a halo around his helmet. They swarmed around the seams of his blacks, too, attracted to the small beads of sweat there, to the tiny strips of flesh he couldn’t quite cover. The rising bites itched, rubbing where the edge of his vambraces met fabric, and the buzzing was enough to drive a man mad. Boil sighed, brushing them off half-heartedly and watching them billow angrily away. They’d be back. They always were.

In the reprieve, he fumbled at his belt for the viewfinders hooked there and brought them to his visor. As he spun the dial to within half a klik so that he could search the undergrowth, his thumb settled in the comforting groove where Waxer had dropped them and chipped the plastoid. He worried at it with his nail while he scanned, frowning.

It was too still.

Too quiet.

Had been in his head for weeks now, verging on a month, and he was still waiting to feel something other than crippling emptiness. There weren’t any dreams any more, none except for the oldest one they all pretended not to have; levelling a blaster against Kenobi’s head and pulling the trigger. Even that didn’t feel like the nightmare it used to.

Eventually he lowered the viewfinder, feeling the hair stand up on the back of his neck at the stifled sound of his own breath in the dense air. A faint, humid breeze stirred the leaves, sending a cloud of thick yellow pollen up towards the canopy. Boil blinked to bring up the filter diagnostic on his HUD, keeping his belly low to the ground to avoid the stuff as it drifted lazily overhead.

“Kid, you doin’ alright out there?”

He listened to the static hum of the comm line for a few moments, biting back the panic that crawled up the back of his throat when it dragged on just a beat too long.

“Apart from gettin’ gnawed on by the bugs? Just grand, Sir.”

Potshot sounded a little winded, but that was probably just the heat. Blacks self-regulated temperature, but only to the extent that they made sure you sweated evenly. It never used to be quite so bad; that had been the one thing Phase 1 armour had going for it, for all it was bulkier and less adaptable to varied terrain. He supposed the Republic had had to cut costs somewhere. Waxer would’ve been whining by now that his ass was so hot they could light a flare off it. Potshot was young enough that he’d never known any different.

“Good, you see anything?” Boil grunted, pinging his location anyway. There was no real reason for it; Potshot might’ve still been green but he wasn’t stupid, and he’d done well to keep up so far. Boil could stand being self aware enough to acknowledge that he hadn’t been the most welcoming, or the most patient with the new partner he’d never wanted. He wouldn’t have had any right to be overbearing now, but it was for his own comfort, however small and bittersweet.

“Nothin’ at all. That seem odd to you too?” Potshot said, as the surveillance holos he’d taken popped up. Boil flipped through them, earmarking a couple to show him how to improve the angle later. The important shit was all there - enough to confirm what he’d already suspected. No birds, no creatures, no fresh droppings.

Just the bugs, and the trees, and them.

“Yeah, it’s odd alright. Think we’ve found what the general’s looking for.”

Boil felt pressure around his right boot and turned, vibroblade in hand, to stab into the fleshy vine knotting round it. It writhed and retreated, leaving behind pitted, smoking trails where acid had started eating into the plastoid. He registered the damage with a dull sort of annoyance. It was something else to take care of later, a way to look busy and shape the silence. It would fend off the others and their offers of company, made out of pity he couldn’t bear to look at.

“Really? What’re you seein’, boss?” Potshot asked.

Boil glanced upwards to track the position of the sun; high, almost directly overhead. At the peak of the day this place should have been teeming. Instead the only tracks he’d found had been baked solid, and this wasn’t the shocked quiet that followed a stampede. It was stagnant, aging.

“This forest is in the centre of an old super-volcanic crater, right?” he asked, not waiting for a response. It had been in the mission dossier, alongside profiles of the flesh eating plants, the deadly pollen and the venomous creatures, all of it fenced into the sloped, unforgiving bowl of the terrain. It was the kind of forest that stuck in the mind. “And we know that something has driven the wildlife away.”

Potshot hummed, the comm muffling for a second as he shifted. It took a moment of bitter disappointment coiling in Boil’s belly for him to realise that he’d been waiting for a sharp quip that wasn’t coming. He swallowed thickly, wondering how it was possible to feel so wrongfooted while lying down. If he’d ever find his balance again. If he ever wanted to feel whole now that such a fundamental piece was missing.

Potshot groaned suddenly. “Kriff it, the factories we’re looking for are underground, aren’t they?”

Boil forced a chuckle, choking past the self hatred clawing up through his lungs. The kid deserved better, deserved a superior who didn’t constantly treat him like a ghost.

“That’s it, kid. Just like the simulations, eh?”

Potshot laughed, the easy sound making Boil’s throat seize in longing so strong his teeth ached. Waxer would’ve loved him, and that made it all the worse.

“Hardly. What do we do next?”

“Alright,” Boil said, lifting the viewfinder for one last look at where he could see slight fog rising through the trees. “You get your ass back to forward command and debrief the General, I’m heading in for a closer look.”

“ What? But - Sir! We’re supposed to be working as a team. I can’t leave you -”

“Sometimes working as a team means you do your duty and trust the others to do theirs.” He cut in, keeping his voice steady by force of will. Sometimes, it meant carrying on alone. Boil clipped the viewfinder back into place and prepared to move, even as Potshot continued protesting. Boil didn’t answer for long enough that silence fell on the line.

“...am I not performing to the standard expected, Sir?”

Potshot’s voice was soft, all vulnerable underbelly. Still so shiny, and Boil remembered feeling like that, like there was still a scorecard constantly on his forehead.

“No - kid -” Boil sighed, dropping his head forward. He’d never learned how to be gentle - it hadn’t ever come naturally, and there had been no reason to lose his sharp edges when Waxer had always been there to foil them for him. He felt sharper now than ever, full of shards that didn’t sit right, and fished among the pieces for something his brother might have said. “I trust you to have my back. You’re doing everything right. But...sometimes we’ve gotta think of the mission. We need more proof before we can move in, but the two of us get caught, command loses what we already know.”

“Can’t we just send a comm?” Potshot asked, his voice still tight and hurt sounding and he was fucking this up, shouldn’t have been trusted to try to fix himself without breaking everyone else wide open in the process.

“Don’t trust it not to get intercepted,” Boil said, which was only half a lie, and would have made Cody scoff at the back to front over-caution. “And it don’t all fit in a comm. They’ll need everything you can remember to plan the advance.”

Potshot sighed, but when he spoke again his voice was looser. “...Yes, Sir. I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t,” Boil said, feeling his own chest lighten. “If you don’t hear from me by 1100 then raise me on the priority channel.”

He listened until Potshot had stated a reluctant affirmative and clicked off the line, then bellied out of the undergrowth and headed further in, to the epicentre of the unnatural quiet. He liked the way his mind went silent on recon, how everything else fell away. It wasn’t quite the same, tilted just a little off axis, but similar enough to when it had been Waxer at his six that if he didn’t think about it, he could almost trick himself into believing nothing had changed.

Plus, the space was good, just for a few minutes, where he didn't have to pretend for anyone.

It was a quiet journey, for the most part, punctuated only by the steps he couldn’t quite muffle. His thoughts were broken some time later when he suddenly heard it; the distant mechanical boom of something deep underground. He quickened his pace, following the vibrations until the earth under his feet grew hot, the air shimmering unnaturally in front of him. It had been like this at Point Rain, when the sand baked and glinted, glass-like, under the blaze of the overhead sun. If he hadn’t known the super-volcano was very thoroughly extinct, he could have kidded himself that it was just the geothermal energy of magma moving close to the surface. A clever disguise. But not clever enough.

The ground sloped ever downwards the further into the bowl he got. He watched where he placed his feet as it grew rockier, stones and small craters acting like pitfall traps concealed by the moss. Boil pinged his scanner every minute, searching for Seppie probes as the terrain tapered, falling away into a green-rimmed yawning abyss. Set into the centre of it was a huge grate, the source of the searing air. Here were the factories they’d been looking for, exactly where he’d suspected. It was a muted sort of satisfaction.

He crouched at the edge of the drop, taking holos and transmitting them directly to the Commander’s HUD. Then he checked his chrono and sent an unapologetic follow up that he’d be late to rendezvous, seeing that 1100 was about to come and go. Then he minimised the comms on his HUD to flash for priority only; he’d get bollocked for being late sooner or later, but he figured it would be novel to have it fully in person.

Finally he turned, ready to start the rapid scale back towards the 212th's forward camp, when he registered a low, keening whine.

His blaster was in his hands within a moment, trained at the knee-high leaves. The sound came again, higher this time, followed by laboured panting.

He gently brushed aside some of the foliage with his blaster barrel. Dark eyes stared at him from between the leaves. They both froze. It was some sort of animal, obviously; a mammal, probably a predator. It was small too, with paws too large for its scrawny body and a dark, downy fur that rippled with every laboured breath.

Sharp teeth. A narrow muzzle. A long, whip-like tail.

A vornskr, Boil thought, and hated how readily the identification came, how readily he tensed in anticipation of the inevitable Boil can you see - do you know how rare -

He shook the memories away, of Waxer leaning precariously over the top bunk to wave some manual Commander Gree had sent him in his face, bleating about some animal or species that Boil couldn’t pronounce. In the present the vornskr pup cowered away from him, pushing backwards on thin, spindly legs. Deceptively powerful though, he’d bet.

The creature let out another whine and stumbled, an odd abortive movement. Boil pressed more of the leaves away to get a better look and swore when he saw the brutal metal trap closed around one of its small hind legs, paring down to bone. His blaster was up and trained on the thing before he thought much about it. Better to shoot it, put it out of its misery, than prolong its suffering. It was what they did as part of the cleanup sometimes; wildlife was usually pretty good at getting out of the active battlefronts, but there were always stragglers. The too old or the too young, mostly.

Creatures like this one.

The vornskr stilled, staring at him with those big, wide eyes as if it knew exactly what he was thinking. Boil swallowed. Waxer wouldn’t have let him shoot it. Waxer also wasn’t here now to stop him, but Boil felt his arm lower all the same, just a few inches before he pulled the trigger. The vornskr yelped as the trap hinges came apart in two neat halves and immediately tried to run. It didn’t get very far before it collapsed, panting again.

Boil sighed and shook his head, holstering his blaster across his back.

“That was a stupid thing to do,” he tsked, shuffling closer.

He kept half an eye on the tail, remembering something about it being venomous. While being high off his ass on some unknown substance had the potential to make Cody’s dressing down more interesting, it might also kill him before he got there.

The vornskr growled as he leaned over it, baring needle sharp teeth, and made a snap at him when Boil reached out.

“Ah, give over,” he muttered, batting the attempt away. The little body was light in his hands as he lifted it, careful to let the injured leg hang out as he folded it into his chest. The vornskr made an odd, throaty sound and shifted, almost experimental. Then it huffed, and after a pause laid its head across his vambrace.

Boil rolled his eyes at the display, setting off towards forward command as soon as he was halfway sure he wasn’t in danger of losing a finger.

It was...nice, to have that little body cradled to him, reminiscent of better occasions when Waxer just had to stick his nose into every curious happening and inevitably adopted some struggling lifeform. However much Boil had complained, it had never steered them wrong.

When he got back to command it was to find Cody pacing the perimeter, Potshot perched on a crate nearby. The Commander’s bucket was under his arm. Boil winced. With Cody that was never an accident - usually so he could get the full weight of a glare in, the excavating kind he’d learned from Kenobi and then weaponised so that it pierced straight down to bone.

“Boss!” Potshot exclaimed, pushing off his seat. “You made it!”

“What time d’you call this?” Cody demanded, stalking over. “I was about to -”

Cody stopped short, gaze dropping to the furry bundle against Boil’s breastplate. Something in his expression softened and Boil felt in his heart, panicking as a lump rose in his throat.

“What’s that?” Cody asked.

Boil let his gaze slide downwards to a point far beyond, where two troopers were fighting over a tarp.

“Found it in a trap,” he said, his voice ragged. “Couldn’t - couldn’t let it die.”

He flicked his eyes back to Cody’s face and breathed through the grief and understanding he found there. Cody stepped forward and clasped Boil’s elbow.

“I’m sure Tranq will be able to do something for it.” A little upturn crept into the line of Cody’s lips. “Debrief in fifteen.”

Boil nodded and broke away, tipping his head to Potshot before clearing his throat roughly and popping his bucket off one-handed as he made his way to the medtent. The sun was warm on his face here, the air lighter. A butterfly flew lazily past and the vornskr lifted its head, tracking the motion with large, interested eyes.

Boil smiled, hoisting his bucket under one arm and daring to touch the creature's head with his freed hand. It wouldn’t ever bring Waxer back, but it meant something that this little life continued, because of the choices his brother would have made and all that he had been. Like the phantom touch of the sun still lingering in cooling earth.

It wouldn’t ever be enough. But, perhaps, it was just the right amount to cling onto.

-

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[kareofbears]

desperate as that sounds

Five times Ryuji ran for Akira (and one time he ran for himself.)

—  

read on ao3 or below the cut :)

It’s 4:45 am with the weather sitting at a brutal -3 degrees when Ryuji really starts wishing that he brought another jacket.

People are lined around Akihabara by the hundreds outside of closed electronic stores, and the sun has yet to even rise. Some people are yawning, some are clutching their rapidly cooling coffee in a death grip, and most have dark, purple bags underneath their eyes—proof of the battle scars that they’ve acquired. Every person here had the same goal in mind: To get what they need and get out as quick as possible.

As it turns out, if everyone has that same mindset, it creates the violent, yearly November tradition that is Black Friday.

Glancing around, he notices that people came in packs, teams. Teenagers and pre-pubescent kids are all scuffling around, hyping themselves up and creating strategies for the war to come. The more seasoned veterans of the yearly massacre came in pairs—the smaller the group, the faster you move, the move land you cover.

At the biggest electronic store in a region that’s already been nicknamed ‘Electronic Town,’ he is fourth in line—an impressive feat, especially for a first-timer. But it came with a heavy toll: he is completely and utterly alone.

”Skull, do you read me?”

Well, physically alone, anyway.

“Loud and clear,” he replies, readjusting the mic in his ear. “Not that I mind, but what’s with the codenames?”

Futaba scoffs. “You think Black Friday is just about the physical aspect? Foolish boy—the psychological aspects are half the battle. If I get you into the mindset that we’re in a Palace, then you’ll get into infiltration mode, and you’ll be OP compared to the nerds out there.”

“Ooo, I like it! Your brain is effin’ galaxy sized!”

“I do what I can for my faithful pack mule.”

“I’ll try not to take that personally.”

His deal with Futaba had been a simple one. She helps Ryuji navigate the horrors of Akihabara during Black Friday in exchange that he acts as what is essentially a drug trafficker sans the drugs. Despite her rigorous societal training she’d undergone with the Thieves, something about entering a borderline stampede still seems somewhat unappealing to her. Besides, he doesn’t mind. He’d always wanted to do something nice for Futaba anyway, and the store that has her computer thing is the same store that holds what he needs.

”Five minutes to go,” her voice crackles into his ear. ”Infiltration route—go!”

Their deal had also come in with an intense tutorial session that ended up lasting until one in the morning. “Floor 4, down 3 aisles, 8 steps in, turn right, second shelf, grab a box that says ‘GTX graphics card.’ Pink, if possible.”

“A+, Skull! You know, if you can memorize that, I seriously don’t get why you’re failing English verbs.”

“Please, this is actually important.”

Futaba cackles. “Now you’re speaking my language. With your legs and my navigation, this’ll basically be a Tuesday afternoon in Leblanc.”

People around him are starting to straighten up, some going as far as to remove the extra layer of clothing and shoving it in backpacks for maximum speed and minimum restrictions. “Damn, people here look more intense than some dudes in my track meets.”

“If you’re throwing out portable chargers with 30-hour battery life for only 800 yen, you’d be a little intense too.”

Ryuji scoffs and begins to stretch, being extra sure to get his right thigh. “I’m plenty intense. Just last Saturday, I almost beat the Big Bang Burger challenge.”

“Pretty sure Akira beat that on his second week in Tokyo. You know, you still haven’t told me why you’re bothering with this whole Black Friday mess. I didn’t peg you for an electronics type of guy, and your phone is as crappy as your posture.”

“Rude! But I can’t argue with that.” He starts to run in place, and for a brief second, he wonders if he should’ve packed a protein shake.

“Well, too late now. If your thing sells out because you didn’t want to give your Navi information, that’s on you.”

“Gimme some credit, Futaba,” an employee who looks equal parts sleep-deprived and terrified approaches the glass doors. “Ain’t no way in hell I’m failing either of us this morning.”

The glass slides open, and as if sunlight was released from the captivity of the clouds, or perhaps a meteor just broke through the earth’s atmosphere, the people start pushing, shoving, and flooding inside. The crowd looked both impenetrable and unwavering; an unstoppable force and an immovable object rolled into one giant stream of desperate shoppers.

Ryuji spares a split-second to crack his neck. Mission Start.

The moment he breaks through the initial threshold, people who were only one step behind him suddenly became ten, twenty, thirty. Weaving through crowds and aisles with the precision of a seamstress, Ryuji evades it all with ease.

”Skull, status report.”

“Smooth sailing, Oracle!” He ducks as an overly buff businessman turns around with a 3-metre pole used for studio lighting threatens to bash his head in. “You’re totally right about the codenames, by the way. It’s almost like I’ve got Captain with me.”

“Right?” She laughs. “It’s all about the mindset.”

Ryuji turns, and finally gets to the stairs—the most brutal section and the biggest gamble. It’s the reason why it was essential that he’s one of the first in line. Once the stairs get jammed with people, it’s game over. Making a mad dash up four flights of stars, he thanks any God that may be that Palaces are fantastic for rehab.

He makes it to the top, panting. It’s empty, save for a few nervous-looking employees. He hopes the smile he throws their way came off as ‘pleasant and grateful for their service’ rather than ‘a delinquent asshole who might steal loads of shit.’

“Down 3 aisles, 8 steps,” he mutters to himself as he quickly scans the fourth floor. “Turn right, second shelf,” eyes landing on his target, he grins. “I effin’ rock.”

”You got it?”

“Of course I did!” He fist pumps before swiping the box. In his excitement, he nearly runs over to give a random employee a high-five. “Alright Oracle, you’re up.”

”I love you so much in a non-weird way. Okay,” he hears the clacking of keys on the other side of the mic. “What do you need?”

“Two words: game console.”

The clacking stops. “You’re joking.”

Ryuji snorts. “I ain’t waking up at 3 in the morning for a joke.”

”Those are hard enough to get as is, and on a day like this—”

“So you can’t do it?”

In the same way every one of the thieves know they could bait Ryuji with a few choice words, it’s a lesser-known fact that Futaba is quite nearly as bad when it comes to open defiance. “Jerk. Of course I can.”

“Then let’s do it!”

“Ugh, fine!” The clacking resumes, more vigorously. “Yikes, only 3 left. Make it quick!”

“Got it,” he replies. He turns around and his stomach drops as he sees people rushing in. “What floor?”

“Third.”

Ryuji groans. The stairs, with people packed in like sardines, are a circus. It would take at least two minutes to try and go down a single flight of stairs. The elevator is even worse, and he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it had already started to malfunction. Only one choice, then.

He takes a deep breath. “Pray for me.”

”Godspeed, soldier.”

Ryuji, like a wild animal on the loose in the streets of Tokyo, jumps on the handrails and begins his descent that way, begging to the skies that he doesn’t slip and create a domino effect that knocks down a dozen people.

In thirty seconds flat (with no small amount of cursing from both the customers and himself) he jumps off and lands (tumbles) onto the third floor, grinning triumphantly. Eat your heart out, Sumire.

“Oracle, I’m here. Almost broke my ankles. Where to?”

”Straight ahead,” she replies. ”Only one left, though. Better make it quick.”

His eyes land on the last game console, and he sees someone making their way towards it. “Not a problem.”

Ryuji sprints.

Throwing every societal rule and common courtesy into the air, he makes a mad dash and, somehow, miraculously does not bump into anyone or knock down any huge shelves.

In approximately 3 seconds, he grabs his treasure and yells a very loud but completely genuine “sorry!” over his shoulder as he half runs back to the stairs, face red for multiple reasons.

Delving back into the sea of the crowd, trying to navigate himself to the cash register, he sighs. “I’m going to hell.”

”Mission success, then?”

“I had to steal it from some guy! I feel so bad. What if he’s like, buying it for his long lost son or something?”

”Whatever! That’s just part of the Black Friday spirit. Congrats! At least you finally got a game console.”

“Huh? Oh, I already had one.”

Static crinkles in his ear, before, ”WHAT!?”

“Ow! Don’t yell!”

”You already had one and you still did this shopping run?”

“Yeah…?”

”Why?! Are you gonna sell it? Are you one of those sleazy men who take advantage of the good will of gamers, Sakamoto?”

“Hell no!”

”So—“

“Oops, almost at the front of the cash register. I’ll drop off the goods at Akira’s. Talk to you later, shortie.”

Click.

”Wha— Hey! Ryuji!” Silence. “Ugh!”

————

After a much-deserved nap, Futaba climbs up the stairs to Akira’s attic.

“The star has arrived!” she says in lieu of a greeting. “Where’s Ryuji?”

“He left,” Akira answers. He’s looking at something on his worktable. “Your stuff is on the bed.”

Futaba whoops and snatches up the little plastic bag. Peering inside, she sees an adorable GTX hot pink graphics card, and a note. In a horrific scrawl, it writes: dont tell him plz ;)))

She looks up quizzically when her eyes land on Akira’s desk: A shiny new game console.

“Um…”

“Hmm?” he looks up. “Oh, Ryuji dropped it off. Said his mom won it at work, and since he already had one, he gave it to me. Nice, right?”

She opens her mouth, before closing it with a clack. Just two weeks ago, Ryuji had asked Akira in the group chat if they could play video games at his place. Sometimes, it’s easy to forget about Akira’s situation: false accusation, an attic for a room, no definitive meals, not even a proper bathroom in the building, but Akira plays it off like it’s easy. He answered by making a joke that he’s too poor for something like that when you can buy faux battle axes and realistic shotguns instead. Everyone had forgotten about that interaction.

But apparently, Ryuji hadn’t.

He’s an idiot, Futaba thinks. To which boy she’s referring to, she’s not sure.

“Yeah,” is what she says instead. “It’s nice.”

====

The dust motes flying around the attic of Leblanc are lovely. Swirling in senseless formations, floating through the still air like snow. The way none of them collide with each other, as if they have some sort of motion detector that tells them to move out of the way. It’s pleasing to look at.

It’s a shame Ryuji doesn’t give a single shit about them at this moment.

He’s sitting on Akira’s bed, back pressed against the window sill with his hair tipped up, staring unfocused at the wooden beams, eyes glazed over. He’s been like this for the better part of the day, and now the evening is slipping by him. Time continues ticking on like a rigged bomb; an ongoing reminder of how many seconds he’s losing, and how much more he can lose.

He’s considered moving. To walk around the room, shift the dust that’s surely settled on him. Getting up, stretching his legs, outwardly expelling some of his trapped, balled up energy is a good idea. Healthy, even, if those shitty YouTube videos he’s watched on his phone about anger management were on to something. But he can’t. He shouldn’t.

Amidst all the uncertainty and the wound-up anxiety that has currently made permanent residence deep inside his core, he knows that if lets his joints unlock, he’s going to fucking lose it.

Slam a fist inside the dry wood, tear up a blanket, throw the adorable ramen bowl he gave Akira against the wall until it shatters into a hundred pieces. He’s so terrified of ruining this room that he won’t even give himself the option. And Ryuji would rather let hell freeze over than scare Futaba again in his fit of fucked-up rage that comes with the package that is Sakamoto Ryuji.

So he’s stuck on the bed for God knows how long.

Footsteps come up, and he doesn’t need to look down to know who’s going to chew him out. If it’s not Akira that’s going to chide him out of his stupor (which it isn’t, even though Ryuji would do anything if it means that Akira’s back here with them), then they’d send in someone who’d drag him out of it with her nails perfectly manicured.

“You look terrible.”

“Screw off,” Ryuji spits automatically, and he cringes inwardly. Ann doesn’t deserve the sharp end of his horrible mood. It’s not her fault that it feels like his insides feel like they’re trying to eat their way out.

She ignores him and moves to hop on top of the old work desk. The wood creaks underneath her. “You’ve been here all day.”

“I know.”

“Did you sleep last night?”

“Yes. No.” He feels Ann’s stare burn into the side of his face—a ghost of Carmen’s presence. “I don’t know.”

“He wouldn’t want to see you like this.”

Irritation swells in him. She’s never learned to take a hint in her life. “Really? Are you seriously saying that?”

“Are you saying he would?”

“I’m saying he’s too busy having the living shit beat out of him to see me like this.”

His body twitches, and that’s all he needed for his resolve to break down. He jumps from the bed, feet landing heavily enough that he’s sure they can all hear him from the floor below. Unconsciously, his feet pace around the small room; quick with agitation but heavy with dread. Anything to distract from doing something stupid.

“You’re worried about me, what, not sleeping? For lying down on this damn bed for too long? Screw that. Akira’s being grilled like cheap meat for the past couple of days and you’re expecting me to act normal about it? That’s bullshit.”

Bad. This is bad. His fingers are already curling in his fists, eager and all too willing to be used. He settles for balling the edge of his shirt instead.

“He isn’t here. That’s the fact, isn’t it? And what the fuck am I doing about it? Freaking out? Trying not to throw a tantrum about it like some kind of stupid kid? Am I really this messed in the head that everyone on the team is—-is hiding from me like I’m some kind of—” he cuts himself off.

Delinquent.

Ryuji takes a deep breath, fully inhaling and slowly exhaling. He focuses on the dust motes again. In and out. Countdown from ten. He can do this. He can get a grip on himself. Thank God it was Ann that came up—if it had been anyone else, he doesn’t think he can put his pride aside as easily. (Unless it was Futaba. God, he loves her so much.)

For a while, it was silent except for his breathing; it stuttered occasionally, but eventually it evens out. Ann only watches from her perch.

When he feels stable enough, Ryuji drops to sit on the hardwood.

“Okay?” she asks. Ann never babies him when he gets like this—she’s good that way.

“Okay.” And he really is. Not completely, of course not. His nerves weren’t strung as tight, but he still feels a heavy weight right in his stomach.

She hops off the desk and goes to sit in front of him on the floor. Crossing her legs, Ann waits. They regard each other for a long minute.

“He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met,” he says. It feels weird saying this out loud, instead of repeating the mantra in his head like a broken record. “If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.”

She rolls her eyes. “Duh.”

“He’s going to be okay.”

“I know that.”

“Sooner than later, his dumb ass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.”

“You bet he is.”

“And I get to yell at him as much as I want.”

“Get in line.”

“I’m not going to lose him tonight.”

Ann reaches over—slowly, giving him plenty of room to shift away—and places a hand on his knee. “You’re not going to lose him tonight.”

Ryuji laughs, a little breathy but still genuine. He prods at her hand. “When’d you get so good with me, Takamaki?”

“I do the Lord’s work around here, free of charge.” She grins, before her tone drops again. “Can you do something for me, though?”

“Lay it on me.”

Ann pulls back and leans on a propped hand, her blue eyes piercing. “When Akira comes back, and he will—”

“And he will. No doubt about it.”

“Obviously. He’s the best person for this. But when Akira comes back, he’s…” Ann gnaws on the inside of her cheek. “He’s not going to be okay, Ryuji.”

Somewhere in his mind, he already knew what she was going to say. While the biggest of his worries is that he’d never see Akira walk through the doors of Leblanc again, there was a quieter fear. A very specific fear, one that Ryuji knows all too well. Because stories don’t just end at the climax of a single event—they keep going. It’s the fear of what happens once he does see Akira.

The aftermath.

The bell chimes downstairs.

His heart lurches, and he makes the briefest of eye contact with Ann before he’s gone.

He’s the toughest guy I’ve ever met.

It’s like his feet have a mind of their own.

If anyone can handle this, it’s Akira.

In an instant, he’s scrambling towards the stairs on all fours before pushing himself up.

Sooner than later, his dumbass is going to be walking through the door downstairs.

His hand finds its hold on the old wooden railing as he sprints his way down. More than once, he almost trips and bangs his head into the wall.

And I get to yell at him as much as I want.

Rounding the corner, he jumps on the landing, ignoring the sharp pain that shoots up his thigh. He ignores the stares from everyone else. Looking up his breath catches in his throat. Gray eyes meet his brown ones. He takes one step forward, and then another. And then he sprints the rest.

He’s going to be okay.

Ryuji stops himself right in front of him, an arms-length away. Akira’s face looked like it’s been through hell and back. Split lip, black eye, bruised cheekbone. An intense fury flares up his spine when he sees the grime and dirt up along his temple.

He hesitates.

As much as he wants to reach forward, close the gap, to make sure that this boy that he can’t afford to lose is real… he can’t do it.

Because he knows what would happen if he tries to cross a boundary that isn’t ready to be crossed—he might not be ready. Ryuji could hurt him by touching any injuries he doesn’t know about (God, how much more is he hiding in there? He’s this close to either throwing up or throwing a punch). But what he’s most scared about, what he’s terrified of doing, is touching Akira in the state of mind he’s in right now. For someone to grip him, grab him, even just brush past him right now, it might be too much. Judging by how beat up he looks just from his face? That does shit to people. That changes you.

Ryuji would know. So he keeps his distance.

Akira’s eyes turn dark, and for a second, Ryuji is terrified that he must’ve overstepped a boundary.

Then he throws his arms around Ryuji, the force knocking them both back by a couple of steps.

“Akira?” he asks, bewildered. Never in their friendship has he seen Akira act like this. It sends alarm bells ringing through his head. “What—”

“Don’t,” Akira cuts off, voice hoarse and quiet, so quiet that even this close, Ryuji is straining to hear him. The arms around him tighten. “Don’t be like that. Please. I can’t. Not right now, Ryuji.”

It hits him all at once. And in his sixteen years of living, Ryuji doesn’t think he’s ever been stupider.

Akira’s been trapped in an interrogation room with nothing but a bunch of make-believe police officers. He got the shit beat out of him, had to stage his own suicide.

And Ryuji just tried to push him away.

He lets his arms wrap around Akira tightly; not too tight, but enough to make sure he won’t slip away from him again. (Never again. Not if he can help it.)

“I’m glad you’re back,” he whispers. Tilting his head up, he stares at the soft lighting of Leblanc, forcing his lungs to breathe evenly—not for fear of losing his temper, but for fear of exposing the tears silently streaming down his face. “So fucking glad.”

Akira doesn’t answer. He only buries his face deeper into Ryuji’s shoulder.

Ann was right—Akira isn’t okay. Not for now, not for awhile. It’s up to Ryuji and everyone else in their group of friends to fix that. That’s fine. They’ll all take as long as they need. He isn’t okay right now, but he will be. They can work on that.

But one thing was clear.

I’m not going to lose him tonight.

====

Summer in Mementos is pretty gross.

Granted, it’s always nasty in here—there’s a perpetual air of moisture, like the inside of a whale, if Ryuji had ever been in one (he’s basing that off of an American movie Ann showed them last week; he didn’t even know it was possible for a fish to get lost in the ocean). There’s also the ongoing sound of trains passing by them on loop, and to him, trains are just inherently cramped and humid and always too sticky for his liking.

Of course, there’s the disgusting, weird amalgamated Shadows that litter every level of Mementos. At least in Palaces they sort of resemble something from the real world, but he guesses they didn’t even bother with these ones. The worst part of all this is that right now, it’s hot, but not hot enough for the Shadows to process a heat wave.

So essentially, they’re fighting with additional bucket loads of sweat, but with none of the usual reward that comes with it.

Well, not that they needed it.

“Fox.”

“As you wish.”

Yusuke’s boots skid to a halt as he points his katana at the fast-moving Shadow, the tip perfectly still. “Your assistance, Goemon.”

They’re on their weekly Mementos grind, the list Mishima keeps updating finally too long to ignore. (Akira hates it when things pile up. It’s a big reason why Ryuji hastily cleaned up every time he wanted to come over. Now though, he doesn’t even bother.)

The current All-Star team includes Yusuke, Makoto, Ryuji, and Akira, with the rest of them keeping a close eye in case they need a quick shift in strategy.

From his katana, black ice crawls in the ground beneath rusted train tracks, the air suddenly chilly despite the humidity that was there a moment ago. Frost shoots forward, encasing the legs of the Shadow only to shatter with a strong jerk forward. It roars, the ear-piercing sound causing the scattered debris around them to vibrate. Akira clicks his tongue.

Strong against ice. Easy fix. Ryuji mouths the words along with Akira when he says, “Panther, you’re up.”

“Finally!”

Ann darts in, high-fiving Yusuke as he rushes out. Ryuji can see Makoto pat Yusuke on the back, sympathy etched on her expression and Futaba mussing his hair. He always took it the hardest when he had to be switched out.

Akira’s gloved fingers brush the edge of his monochrome mask. “Come, Principality.”

As if a human version of justice has been summoned down to earth, the winged statue floats for a moment, eyes filled with scorn as she casts a simple, yet effective memory loss spell. The Shadow shakes its head aggressively. It works, but it won’t hold for long.

“Skull.”

“Don’t mind if I do!”

He grins and sprints right, squeezing into the Shadow’s blindside. It tries to twist around to take a swipe at him, but Ryuji is too fast—he slides right between its legs to confuse and disorient it. Once it seems like it completely lost sight of him, he raises his hand to grip the edge of his black mask. “Come on out, Captain!”

It’s a classic tactic; make the enemy lose focus, stun it, and stop it.

A pirate straight out of the Caribbean materializes from the embers of his mask—Captain Kidd in all of his glory regards the Shadow with a look of disdain before sparks fly from the hull of his ship, and an intense streak of lightning bursts forth, shocking its target like something from a regrettable movie about torture, knocking it down to the ground, a buzz perceptible even from here. He might have overdone it.

Ann whistles. “You didn’t even let me get a chance with it.”

“You can have the next million Shadows we bump into, I promise.” He calls Captain back into his mask, fragmented pieces forming together impossibly quick. “We good, Leader?”

Akira nods. “Just let me get the loot,” he smiles at Ryuji. “Awesome voltage on that last one, Skull.”

A grin stretches over his face before he can stop himself. He won’t deny it—getting a compliment from Joker was always something he filed away for later.

He’s too busy feeling pride surge through him that he can’t even bother to get ticked off when he hears Morgana scoff. “It doesn’t matter how good that attack was; he got in the way of Lady Panther’s finishing blow. That’s a crime in my eyes.”

“But doesn’t that just mean he saved her from doing anything?” Makoto raises an eyebrow. “Technically, he prevented any danger from befalling her, right?”

“Queen, as a gentleman, I have an obligation to tell you that that is a sexist notion.”

“You did not just say that.”

Something makes Ryuji pause. Immediately, his eyes flicker around them automatically. He tunes their chattering out, and finds himself tapping his foot, a slight jitter overcoming him. His nerves are trying to tell him something. Or maybe he’s imagining it? Is it just an aftershock from the intense lightning he cast out? No. It’s been too long since he’s had any problem with electric moves, and he’s never had problems from ones that he threw out himself.

Something was wrong, and he can’t put his finger on it.

He rattles his brain trying to figure out what it is. No one’s hurt, everyone’s safe and together. Well, mostly together, since Akira’s still approaching the Shadow—

A cold sweat drapes the back of his neck. Akira is still approaching the Shadow.

The Shadow hasn’t disintegrated yet.

“Akira—!”

The name slips past his lips, codenames forgotten. In slow motion, Ryuji sees Shadow’s body tense, its mouth frothing with what looks like liquid magma made from pits of hell—specializes in curse, and a strong one at that; Ryuji can feel the potency of its malignancy from where he’s standing. He watches as Akira stiffens, fingers twitching towards his mask, ready to retaliate, or at the very least, defend. And like a domino effect of bad luck, Ryuji feels bile rise to his throat.

Akira is good at what he does. Infuriatingly good. Took the whole Metaverse bullshit like a fish to water. But even he can’t switch Personas the same moment he summons them.

Principality would crumple like tissue paper against the Shadow. And Akira along with it.

You’re too late, a voice whispers in his head. You wouldn’t make it.

A heartbeat passes. And then Ryuji is flying.

It’s never too late, screams back something stronger, something unshakeable. Not ever. Especially not for him.

His boots hit the ground like the first strike of lightning amidst a storm—impossibly fast and unexpected. Lungs wheezing and legs throbbing, he crossed the distance in the span of a breath.

The Shadow throws the curse at Akira, red and black and filled to the brim with intensity, and Akira’s eyes can only widen, pupils dilated wildly to the point where there’s only black—a mirror of what’s about to hit him if Ryuji isn’t fast enough.

He doesn’t hesitate.

Ryuji shoves Akira, hard enough that he crashes onto the ground and he can hear the breath forcefully leave his lungs, and suddenly Ryuji can’t hear anything at all. His fingertips are fire and ice, his sense of surroundings have completely dissipated. Any energy in his body is being drained, like a dam cracked into millions of pieces—and all he’s left with is air. Vaguely, he can hear a choking noise, a broken sort of sound.

The blow is not just a violent one—it never is, with curse attacks. Instead of just feeling his skin bruised or blood running down his temple, he also feels himself get weaker, his mind growing heavier. An attack on the mind and body; a perfect cocktail of fucked up.

The last thing he sees before he loses consciousness is the glint from Akira’s knife slicing through the Shadow’s throat.

====

Tokyo is currently at a wicked thirty two degrees.

The sun radiates scorching temperatures down from the sky, the concrete eagerly absorbing every bit of its heat, making something akin to walking across hot coals. It’s hot enough that a mirage is visible to the naked eye. It’s hot enough that every ice cream store has a forty-minute line-up. It’s hot enough that no birds were flying, in fear that they may truly be fried by the sun above them.

Basically, it’s hot as hell.

“Ryuji-chan, pick up the pace!”

But Haru is more vicious than any conceivable temperature.

Looking like a survivor who was lost in the desert for several days, Ryuji lets out a half-garbled battle cry and sprints the last dozen meters. Haru clicks her stopwatch.

Sitting on a lovely lilac blanket, she tsks from underneath the shade. “Three seconds slower.”

“Ugh!” he collapses beside her on the cool grass. If she looks at him from a certain angle, she can see the steam positively radiating off of him. “I’m going to beat the living shit out of the sun.”

“You know I’d support you in anything you do, Ryuji-chan, but I don’t think you’d be fast enough to catch it,” Haru says. She hands him a cold water bottle. “Drink slowly.”

He rolls over so that he can squint up at her. “You’re mean.”

“I’m harsh,” she corrects, shaking the bottle in her hand. “There’s a difference.”

He takes it. “Have you done this before?”

“Helped someone train in running? No. But,” she rummages through her pastel pink tote bag, and proudly shows him a handful of books. He squints at them. “Since I’m so new to the group and everyone has such broad interests, I decided to try reading up on them! Did you know that drinking cold water after running results in less dehydration than drinking warm water?”

Ryuji stares at her. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For saying you’re mean. You’re not mean. You’re real nice, Haru.”

She smiles at him and pats his head, despite the overflowing heat and moisture settled on top. “You’re very sweet Ryuji-chan, but that’s not going to make me go easy on you.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re the tough-love kind of coach.” Ryuji sits up, cracking open the seal. Chugging down the water, he makes eye contact with Haru before slowing down substantially.

He dumps the rest of it on his head, sighing and shivering in relief. “That’s the good shit.”

“Why not wait for the sun to go down a bit?” she suggests. “The heat is really scorching, and there’s still plenty of time to keep training later.”

“Nah,” he stretches his arms behind his head before he stands again. “I gotta keep going while I still can.”

Haru frowns. “Overexertion isn’t going to help anyone.”

“Don’t you worry your fluffy head! I may be stupid, but I know when to stop when I gotta.”

“I really think you should rest for a bit.”

“I will when I’m done, I promise.”

“You looked rough in that last lap—”

“Haru,” Ryuji is grinning, but his tone leaves no room for argument. “I’m going to keep training.”

They stare at each other for a few moments, before Haru’s shoulder sags slightly. “Alright.” He’s about to say something when she cuts him off. “But only if you tell me why you’re so insistent.”

Ryuji shrugs. “If that’s what it’ll take to prove it to you, then sure. It’s kinda stupid, though.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Oh, wait till you hear it,” he laughs, a little shy. “So you know how Mona and Futaba are, like, the Metaverse experts? And Makoto is the big brain? And Yusuke does the whole calling card part?” Haru nods, and he continues. “Well, I’m not really… anything. Ann already took the role of moral support and there’s no way in hell I’m the ‘brain’ in anything. Jeez, last time I picked up a paintbrush was in kindergarten. So I figured, I’d be the fast one, you know? The one that can get to someone fast enough to help them out.” Ryuji’s grin turns into something softer; less edge and more fond. It does something to her heart. “And if it’d help ‘Kira down the line, then it’d be worth it, right?”

Haru stays silent.

“Anyway! That’s enough of that cheesy shit.” He moves back to the track, running shoes scuffing at the concrete. “Wish me luck, maybe I can actually catch up to the sun this time. Teach it a lesson.”

“Ryuji.“

Looking back, he gives her a curious look. “Yeah?”

Haru hesitates.

I never once thought you were stupid. You’ve given so much more to the team than you can imagine. You have no idea how many times you’ve helped Akira without even lifting a finger.

“I have a cooler full of water behind me, so… please try your best out there.”

Ryuji gives her an enthusiastic salute. “Yes ma'am!”

He runs off, the sun continuing to beat down him relentlessly.

====

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Ryuji knew they were all going to die someday. It’s inevitable. The circle of life, the winds of time, la vie en rose, etc.

He just didn’t expect it to happen at the age of 16, on the sinking cognitive ship of their next Prime Minister, wearing a wack-ass leather outfit surrounded by his panicking friends.

“We’re going to die!” Futaba wails, knees shaking uncontrollably to the point where she can hardly keep standing. “I don’t know how to swim!”

“It’ll be fine,” Akira spits through gritted teeth. He’s far tenser than anyone else, red gloves formed into fists and eyes constantly darting around to see what can save their lives. “We just need to focus.”

Makoto points to something on their right and shouts, “There! A lifeboat!”

Sprinting down the slowly escalating ramp, their eyes widen at the single lifeboat propped at the very top of the bow—which is slowly approaching a ninety degree angle. They all had one thought in their minds.

“We’re not going to make it in time,” Yusuke says, quietly.

Akira bangs his fist into a nearby column. “To hell with that. There’s no way I’m letting us die here.”

A heavy silence falls over them. The air is practically crackling with electricity and pure agitation, but there’s also a determination between all of that. Everyone’s overcome with a need to protect their friends and teammates, but they were at a loss of what to do. A quiet realization overcomes the group—there wasn’t going to be a miracle to save them.

Ryuji’s eyes land on Akira. He’s scanning the area, Third Eye activated but unable to pick up anything that isn’t the lifeboat. There’s no panic in his clear, gray eyes, but the terror in it is the most prevalent out of anyone present.

It hits Ryuji, all at once. The boy in front of him may be his age, and even younger than some members of their group, but he is undoubtedly the leader of the infamous Phantom Thieves. Every decision he made had led them here, in this moment, in their imminent death. And if he lets them all get taken, whether it’s through the ocean or the approaching explosions behind him, the truth of the matter is Akira feels that he would be responsible. That it’s his fault that a cognitive boat would take the lives of his friends.

Yeah. That’s not happening.

Ryuji clenches his eyes shut for a few seconds and slowly opens them. He begins to jump in place, hyping himself up.

“Skull…?” Haru asks, brows furrowing.

“Hang tight, guys,” he says, taking quick breaths. He can do this. “I’ll nab the boat.”

A chorus of gasps and heated objections rang through the air, and Akira steps forward, more shaken than Ryuji’s ever seen him. “No. Skull, please—”

Ryuji throws him a wobbly grin, more for Akira than himself. In one smooth motion, he jumps down and hits the ground running.

“No!”

Immediately, he feels his knees and thighs begin to protest, only intensifying the further he sprints up. For a minute, if Ryuji closes his eyes, he can imagine that he’s in a meet. A race. That the screams he hears behind him are his track mates, and not teammates, friends, best friends that would die if he failed to get to the boat fast enough.

He pushes himself even more.

It’s a miracle that he gets to the raft before his legs give out, and he feels a satisfying crank underneath his palms when he rotates the lever. As he throws a thumbs up at his friends, seeing them safe, healthy, alive, he feels relieved beyond words.

He makes eye contact with Akira, and he really should’ve expected the explosion that comes next.

====

His ceiling has seventy-nine plastic stars.

Ryuji stares up at it from his bed, arms crossed behind his head; they’d long since lost their cheap light. It was raining hard outside, enough to rattle against his window like pebbles calling for his attention. He ignores them.

It’s been years since he got those stars—dating all the way back in middle school. He got into a bad habit of sneaking out in the middle of the night to look at the sky from the roof of their apartment building. It scared the shit out of his ma when she finally caught him, scolded him to hell and back. By the end, they found a compromise: she’d buy him a crap ton from the hundred yen store, and they’d stick it up together. When they did, it kept falling down, so she went back and bought him a bottle of superglue. Now you can’t take them off, even if you tried to use a little scraper.

It bothered him, for a while. Young boys were cruel, and anyone who came to visit always poked fun of him for it. It wasn’t until he visited Akira’s room one day, saw how pleased he was that Yusuke bought them for him that he couldn’t help but revel at his own stars again, after all this time.

Ryuji twists his body sideways, ripping his eyes away from the plastic figures. Enough of that.

His eyes have long adjusted to the darkness that surrounds him, allowing a clear view of his room in the limited moonlight. Laundry splayed around his tatami mat from his sprints training today, gaming controllers scattered on the center table from when Akira came over a few days ago. That was a blast. He helped him beat a boss he’s been stuck on for weeks, and Akira beat it like it was nothing, it was the coolest shit ever—

Ryuji forces himself to flip over to glare at the wall. Sleep. That’s a better idea.

He takes a deep breath, forcing his breathing to go steady. There’s lots to do tomorrow—school is a drag, but they plan on meeting up at Leblanc afterwards. The thought allows his muscles to relax. Really, the atmosphere of Leblanc is just so pleasing to him. The warm lighting, the run-down booths, even the smell is a welcome presence. Well, that’s mostly because Akira drags it with him wherever he—

Slowly, his eyes open.

It always comes back to him, doesn’t it?

He rolls onto his back, in a position to stare at the stars again. The rain hammers on.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid.

It’s not a self jab, it wasn’t manifested by some sort of long-standing insecurity. It’s a fact. He’s never been good with a book, never done anything half-decent by picking up a pencil, his mind was never programmed to listen and retain information in long classes. It’s definitely not like he’s the brains of the Thieves, never a strategist of some kind. His ma encouraged him to take on a tutor in the past, and he’d rather bite a finger off than spend her money on wasted potential, so he found himself wandering the streets of Central Street as a way to pass time.

Ryuji’s a dumb kid, but even he knows he’s irrevocably, completely, stupidly in love with Kurusu Akira.

He sits up and ruffles his hair, frustrated. There are too many things wrong with that sentence, too many things that can go wrong because of that sentence. Of course, he finds the one thing that can mess up the unshakeable foundation that he and Akira built for each other. He must’ve really pissed off some God upstairs for him to have a hell-bent queer awakening with his best friend.

No, that’s wrong. It was the furthest thing from hell-bent—it was soft, it was gray, it was raining, and most importantly, it took its time.

They were halfway through Kamoshida’s Palace when Ryuji realized it; the sheer amount of power that hindsight gave him made him pause long enough to get clocked out by a Shadow.

Doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter. It can’t matter, because he would never, ever do anything to fuck up what he has. Not again.

Wait, no, that’s not true. Even before Kamoshida, he’s never had something like this. He’s never had someone like him. He’s never had someone who’s so entirely on the same wavelength as him, who’d have his back even when his was against a wall. Kurusu Akira is…ethereal. Out of this world. Cool as fuck. (Hot as fuck, too.) If you lined up the entirety of Tokyo and told him he could pick one. One person out of the whole lineup to be his friend, he’d have his answer in a heartbeat.

See, now that isn’t something that changed with hindsight—Ryuji’s known that he’s been in love with Akira since before they completed Kamoshida’s Palace. And when he figured it out, he didn’t feel shock. His eyes didn’t widen, his heart didn’t start thumping like crazy. It’s more like he just scratched his head in a huh kind of way. It felt like his life had been waiting for that day in April, like everything was at a standstill until he finally met Kurusu Akira. It made sense. Everything just makes sense when Akira’s involved.

Which just makes this all the more fucked up.

He knocks his head back against the wall, eyes stuck on the raindrops’ rapidly moving shadows on his bedroom floor. Karma. That’s probably what’s happening. The world still hasn’t forgiven him for losing his shit, so they decided to make him pine for the only person that he can’t afford to lose.

He can’t even stomach the idea of trying to get over it, to try and put distance between himself and Akira. He spent a lifetime waiting for a miracle, for someone who didn’t know existed. He’s not giving up a single second of time with him. That’s probably why the world relentlessly shits on him; he’s selfish enough to keep the feelings that he has. But he can’t bring himself to regret that decision. Not with the way his breath hitches in his throat whenever Akira walks into the room.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it. He’s accepted it. Just like how the sky is blue, or that he well and truly hates Calculus. It’s a factor of life.

The rain seemed to fall harder, droplets sounding like rigorous hail against the windowpane. He lets out a long yawn.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s absolutely nothing he can do about it.

That’s not the reason why he can’t sleep at night.

Akira is a quiet guy. He gets his point across with as few words as possible, as if each letter costs him fifty yen to say out loud. So he speaks through his expression; a quirk of his brow, a tilt of his head, a certain smile is enough to carry half of the conversation.

And, every once in a while, Akira gets a look.

It comes up at the weirdest times—when the two of them baton pass in the Metaverse, when Ryuji eats ramen too fast and gets sick, when he helps an old lady cross the street. Plenty of times it’s because Ryuji is doing something incredibly stupid (like when he said that the square root of sixteen is six, because if you just get rid of the one, then that makes sense, right?), or when they’re laughing so hard neither of them can breathe. But sometimes it comes up in quieter moments, too. The two of them talking quietly in the attic at Leblanc, or when Akira confesses that he’s relieved Ryuji’s always there for him. (As if there would ever be a time where he won’t be.)

The look is subtle enough to miss but easy to find if someone knows what they’re looking for. The usual attentiveness that resides in Akira’s eyes disappears, in its place a softer gaze; his pupils get dilated, and the edge of his eyes get all crinkled like Valentine’s tissue paper. A half-smile rests on his lips, never quite turning into a full-blown grin, but that’s okay. For some reason, it all reminds Ryuji of the moon. Of soft moonlight. Of streetlamps on empty roads.

Ryuji’s in love with his best friend, and there’s a small, tiny, infinitesimal chance that his best friend might love him back.

His eyelids slide shut, though he knows that it won’t be enough to let him rest.

Realistically, he’s probably wrong. Akira isn’t in love with him, and he’s only seeing what he wants to see. With every eligible person seeming to fall in love with him at some point in time, how would it even be possible that Akira would love him?

He rubs his eyes, desperate to get rid of the unending fatigue that’s plagued him for months on end. It doesn’t work.

Bad excuse. Akira does love him, just like he loves everyone he encounters and befriends and ends up risking his life for. Ryuji’s surprised Akira hasn’t passed out yet, given his bleeding heart for the entire population of Tokyo.

Lightning flashes and thunder rumbles as he rubs his eyes harder.

But what if he wasn’t wrong? What if the signals he’s seeing aren’t based on misunderstood yearning?

When his eyes start to burn, his fingers move up to his hair.

There’s no way in hell he’d ever risk losing his best friend. His partner. His Akira. It’s not something he can gamble. It’s not worth it.

He begins to tug, hands shaking, and he can barely feel the sting of pain from nearly pulling his hair out his scalp.

It’s not worth it. He decided that in the very beginning.

Ryuji buries his face into his palms.

But he is so, so exhausted of being tired.

Lightning flashes, and for a split-second, his room is bright.

Fuck it.

By the time thunder rumbles through his apartment, he’s already out the front door.

His sneakers squelch against the wet concrete, soaking his unsocked feet. He’s sprinting fast enough that the street lights around him blur, and he can feel quick breaths getting pulled out of him. It takes him a few seconds to realize that he forgot to wear a raincoat, but he doesn’t care.

Akira is his best friend. Akira accepted him, flaws and all. Akira loves him, one way or another. That’s what held him back. He can’t risk losing that.

Ryuji quickly checks both sides before running across the street, wiping the rain off his brow, and keeps going.

But that’s what should’ve pushed him into confessing sooner. Because if that’s all true, then that can only ever mean that Akira would accept this part of him too, right?

He jerks out of the way as he almost barrels over a fire hydrant, making him step into a deep puddle. It doesn’t slow him down.

Maybe he would’ve realized it sooner if he wasn’t too fucking tired to think straight.

His lungs begin to complain, his breaths turning to wheezes, but he ignores it in favor of going faster.

Too late for that now. All the matters now is to talk to—

He skids to a halt.

In front of him—eyes wide, hair drenched, no shoes—stands Kurusu Akira.

Ryuji’s mouth falls open, and for a minute, he almost laughs. Of course. He should’ve known. Just as he’s willing to sprint to Akira at an unholy hour in the night…

He smiles sheepishly at him, and Ryuji feels his chest constrict in the loveliest way possible.

…Akira would do the exact same thing for him.

The rain slows, and the thunder ceases for a moment. The world pauses long enough for both of them to speak in the same breath, the same heartbeat:

“I’m in love with you.”

#fic tag #akiryu #pegoryu #fanfic #writing #ryuji sakamoto #akira kurusu #persona 5 #persona 5 royal #mine #desperate as that sounds #and yeah man thats a jon bellion song #fic

[flirting-with-psychology]

1. I own a ferret. 2. My best friend is my boyfriend 3. My best friend is a girl 4. I use the word super way too much 5. I am a boy 6. I like My Chemical Romance 7. I own more than 100 CDs 8. I like discussing politics 9. I collect state quarters 10. The Legend of Zelda is my favorite video game. 11. I have Cingular 12. I love MAC makeup 13. I smoke too much 14. I own more than 5 bandanas 15. My favorite movie is Kill Bill 16. I watched Lamb Chop when I was young 17. I have my ears gauged 18. I can do HTML without guidance 19. I watch Spongebob Squarepants regularly. 20. I go to the movies at least once a week 21. I play guitar or bass 22. I love Elvis 23. I’ve had a mo/bi/trihawk before 24. I have met my favorite band 25. I like to hardcore dance 26. Something’s outside my window 27. I believe in ghosts 28. I do drugs regularly 29. I am straightedge 30. My favorite feature about myself is my lips 31. I have never consumed alcohol 32. I want a tattoo. 33. My favorite actor is Will Ferrell. 34. I have seen Conan O'Brien live. 35. I hate MTV 36. I used to watch Cheaters every week 37. I have my own vaccuum 38. Frank Sinatra is awesome 39. I sleep with a stuffed animal 40. I am scared of werewolves 41. I watch hockey regularly 42. I am originally from New York 43. I own an iPod 44. Some people aren’t funny. 45. I hate school. 46. My favorite vegetable is lettuce. 47. Tickle fights are fun. 48. I am currently unemployed. 49. I have my license 50. I hate spelling mistakes 51. I love Spanish class 52. I live in a big city 53. I have been to the Grand Canyon 54. I listen to music to fall asleep 55. I watch TV to fall asleep 56. I only get a few hours of sleep each night 57. I’m relatively innocent. 58. I am a size 3 or smaller 59. I’m bored. 60. Purple is my favorite color. 61. I hate flossing 62. I have a car. 63. I believe in God 64. I’m in love. 65. I used to love Unwritten Law. 66. Reno 911 is my favorite show. 67. There is a mini stapler on my computer desk. 68. Cuddling’s my favorite. 69. For sure. 70. I have a flip phone 71. I love my handwriting 72. I own a Louis Vuitton handbag 73. I want to be an astronaut. 74. I love the song Dragostea Din Tei 75. 50 Cent is not talented 76. I like scanners better than digital cameras. 77. I own at least one Punk-O-Rama CD 78. My room is sound proof. 79. I’m 5'5 or less 80. Lying pisses me off 81. I backstab people. 82. I have been in a fist fight. 83. I have PaintShop Pro. 84. It’s almost midnight 85. My nightlight is cracked 86. I only listen to Dashboard Confessional when I’m sad 87. And I feel like a pansy when I do so 88. I hate metal 89. I’m in a band. 90. Napoleon Dynamite is annoying now. 91. I love hickeys 92. I want to lose weight 93. My favorite channel is the Food Network. 94. I don’t have a CD burner. 95. Pixar is stupid except for the Incredibles 96. I own an apartment/house 97. I am engaged. 98. My computer’s a Gateway. 99. I hate driving. 100. I like watching boys sleep. =========================== 01. I miss someone right now 02. I don’t watch much TV these days 03. I love olives 04. I love sleeping 05. I own lots of books 06. I wear glasses or contact lenses 07. I love to play video games 08. I’ve tried marijuana 09. I’ve watched porn movies 10. I have been in a threesome 11. I have been the psycho-ex in a past relationship 12. I believe honesty is usually the best policy 13. I have acne free skin usually 14. I like and respect Al Sharpton 15. I curse frequently 16. I have changed a lot mentally over the last year 17. I have a hobby 18. I’ve been told I can suck the chromes off a trailer hitch. 19. I carry my knife/razor everywhere with me 20. I’m smart 21. I’ve never broken someone’s bones 22. I have a secret that I am ashamed to reveal 23. I hate the rain 24. I’m paranoid at times 25. I would get plastic surgery if it were 100% safe, free of cost, and scars. 26. I need money right now! 27. I love Sushi 28. I talk really, really fast sometimes 29. I have fresh breath in the morning 30. I have semi-long hair 31. I have lost money in Las Vegas 32. I have at least one brother and/or one sister 33. I was born in a country outside of the U.S. 34. I shave my legs 35. I have a twin 36. I have worn fake hair/fingernails/eyelashes in the past 37. I couldn’t survive without Caller I.D. 38. I like the way that I look sometimes 39. I have lied to a good friend in the last 6 months 40. I know how to do cornrows 41. I am usually pessimistic 42. I have a lot of mood swings 43. I think prostitution should be legalized 44. I think Britney Spears is hot 45. I have cheated on a significant other in the past 46. I have a hidden talent 47. I’m always hyper no matter how much sugar I have. 48. I think that I’m popular 49. I am currently single 50. I have kissed someone of the same sex 51. I enjoy talking on the phone 52. I practically live in sweatpants or PJ pants 53. I love to shop. 54. I would rather shop than eat 55. I would classify myself as ghetto. 56. I’m bourgie and have worn a sweater tied around my shoulders 57. I’m obsessed with my Livejournal 58. I don’t hate anyone. 59. I’m a pretty good dancer 60. I don’t think Mike Tyson raped Desiree Washington 61. I’m completely embarrassed to be seen with my mother 62. I have a cell phone 63. I believe in God/ a higher being. 64. I watch MTV/Vh1 on a daily basis 65. I have passed out drunk in the past 6 months 66. I love drama. 67. I have never been in a real romantic relationship before 68. I’ve rejected someone before 69. I currently have a crush on someone 70. I have no idea what I want to do for the rest of my life 71. I want to have children in the future 72. I have changed a diaper before 73. I’ve called the cops on a friend before 74. I bite my nails 75. I am a member of the Tom Green fan club 76. I’m not allergic to anything 77. I have a lot to learn 78. I have dated someone at least 10 years older or younger 79. I plan on seeing Ice Cube’s newest “Friday” movie 80. I am sometimes shy around the opposite sex 81. I’m online 24/7, even as an away message 82. I have at least 5 away messages saved 83. I have tried alcohol or drugs before 84. I have made a move on a friend’s significant other in the past 85. I own the “South Park” movie 86. I have avoided assignments at work/school to be on Xanga or Livejournal 87. When I was a kid I played “the birds and the bees” with a neighbor or chum 88. I enjoy some country music 90. I think that Pizza Hut has the best pizza 91. I watch soap operas whenever I can 92. I’m obsessive, anal retentive, and often a perfectionist 93. I have used my sexuality to advance my career 94. I love Michael Jackson, scandals and all 95. I know all the words to Slick Rick’s “Children’s Story” 96. Halloween is awesome because you get free candy 97. I watch Spongebob Squarepants and I like it 98. I have dated a close friend’s ex 99. I’m happy as of this moment 100. I was born in the 80s but I am truly a child of the 90s  101. I have slapped john dasaro and chris burke in the face..on the same night 102. I haven’t showered in two days… and I like it. 103. i own every f***er here 104. I procrastinate all the time 105. I’m a nerd 106. I LOVE the movie The Wedding Singer. 107. i hate corn. 108. i’ve attended the rocky horror picture show 109. i’ve never seen Bambi the movie 110. Thinking about the future terrifies me 111. Without music there would be no point in living. 112. If I could change one thing about myself I would 113. If someone of the same sex liked me, I would date them. 114. I went to the mall today for 5 hours ================================ Would do Have Done

001. Bought everyone in the pub a drink 002. Swam with wild dolphins 003. Climbed a mountain *004. Taken a Ferrari for a test drive 005. Been inside the Great Pyramid 006. Held a tarantula. *007. Taken a candlelit bath with someone 008. Said ‘I love you’ and meant it. 009. Hugged a tree *010. Done a striptease 011. Bungee jumped *012. Visited Paris 013. Watched a lightning storm at sea *014. Stayed up all night long, and watch the sun rise several times *015. Seen the Northern Lights 016. Gone to a huge sports game 017. Walked the stairs to the top of the leaning Tower of Pisa *018. Grown and eaten your own vegetables *019. Touched an iceberg *020. Slept under the stars 021. Changed a baby’s diaper 022. Taken a trip in a hot air balloon *023. Watched a meteor shower *024. Gotten drunk on champagne *025. Given more than you can afford to charity 026. Looked up at the night sky through a telescope 027. Had an uncontrollable giggling fit at the worst possible moment 028. Had a food fight 029. Bet on a winning horse 030. Taken a sick day when you’re not ill 031. Asked out a stranger 032. Had a snowball fight 033. Photocopied your bottom on the office photocopier 034. Screamed as loudly as you possibly can 035. Held a lamb 036. Organized and planned a surprise party for a loved one *037. Taken a midnight skinny dip 038. Taken an ice cold bath 039. Had a meaningful conversation with a beggar 040. Seen a total eclipse 041. Ridden a roller coaster 042. Hit a home run 043. Fit three weeks miraculously into three days 044. Danced like a fool and not cared who was looking *045. Adopted an accent for an entire day 046. Visited the birthplace of your ancestors 047. Actually felt happy about your life, even for just a moment *048. Had two hard drives for your computer *049. Visited all 50 states 050. Loved your job for all accounts *051. Taken care of someone who was really sick *052. Had enough money to be truly satisfied 053. Had amazing friends 054. Danced with a stranger in a foreign country *055. Watched wild whales 056. Stolen a sign 057. Backpacked in Europe *058. Taken a road-trip 059. Rock climbing 060. Lied to foreign government’s official in that country to avoid notice *061. Midnight walk on the beach 062. Sky diving *063. Visited Ireland 064. Been heartbroken longer then you were actually in love 065. In a restaurant, sat at a stranger’s table and had a meal with them *066. Visited Japan 067. Bench pressed your own weight 068. Milked a cow 069. Alphabetized your records 070. Pretended to be a superhero 071. Sung karaoke 072. Lounged around in bed all day 073. Protested something you feel strongly against 074. Scuba diving *075. Got it on to “Let’s Get It On” by Marvin Gaye 076. Kissed in the rain 077. Played in the mud 078. Played in the rain *079. Gone to a drive-in theater 080. Done something you should regret, but don’t regret *081. Visited the Great Wall of China 082. Discovered that someone who’s not supposed to have known about your blog has discovered your blog 083. Dropped Windows in favor of something better 084. Started a business 085. Fallen in love and not had your heart broken 086. Toured ancient sites 087. Taken a martial arts class 088. Swordfought for the honor of a woman 089. Played D&D for more than 6 hours straight *090. Gotten married 091. Been in a movie 092. Crashed a party 093. Loved someone you shouldn’t have *094. Kissed someone so passionately it made them dizzy 095. Gotten divorced 096. Started an office war 097. Gone without food for 5 days 098. Made cookies from scratch 099. Won first prize in a costume contest 100. Ridden a gondola in Venice 101. Gotten a tattoo 102. Found that the texture of some materials can turn you on 103. Rafted the Snake River 104. Been on television news programs as an “expert" 105. Got flowers for no reason 106. Made out in a public place 107. Got so drunk you don’t remember anything 108. Been addicted to some form of illegal drug 109. Performed on stage 110. Been to Las Vegas 111. Recorded music 112. Eaten shark *113. Drank an entire 6 pack by yourself *114. Gone to Thailand 115. Seen Siouxsie *116. Bought a house 117. Been in a combat zone 118. Buried one/both of your parents 119. Shaved all of your hair off *120. Been on a cruise ship 121. Spoken more than one language fluently 122. Gotten into a fight while attempting to defend someone 123. Bounced a check 124. Performed in theatre 125. Read - and understood - your credit report *126. Raised children 127. Recently bought and played with a favorite childhood toy *128. Followed your favorite band/singer on tour *129. Created and named your own constellation of stars 130. Taken a bicycle tour in a foreign country 131. Found out something significant that your ancestors did 132. Called or written your Congress person 133. Picked up and moved to another city to just start over 135. Walked the Golden Gate Bridge 136. Sang loudly in the car, and didn’t stop when you knew someone was looking 137. Had an abortion 138. Had plastic surgery 139. Survived an accident that you shouldn’t have survived 140. Wrote articles for a large publication 141. Lost over 100 pounds 142. Held someone while they were having a flashback 143. Piloted an airplane 144. Petted a stingray 145. Broken someone’s heart 146. Helped an animal give birth 147. Been fired or laid off from a job 148. Won money on a TV game show 149. Broken a bone 150. Killed a human being *151. Gone on an African photo safari 152. Ridden a motorcycle 153. Driven any land vehicle at a speed of greater than 100mph 154. Had a body part of yours below the neck pierced 155. Fired a rifle, shotgun, or pistol 156. Eaten mushrooms that were gathered in the wild 157. Ridden a horse 158. Had major surgery 159. Ridden on a passenger train 160. Had a snake as a pet 161. Hiked to the bottom of the Grand Canyon 162. Slept through an entire flight: takeoff, flight, and landing 163. Slept for more than 30 hours over the course of 48 hours 164. Visited more foreign countries than U.S. states *165. Visited all 7 continents 166. Taken a canoe trip that lasted more than 2 days 167. Eaten kangaroo meat 168. Fallen in love at an ancient Mayan burial ground 169. Been a sperm or egg donor 170. Eaten sushi 171. Had your picture in the newspaper 172. Had 2 (or more) healthy romantic relationships for over a year in your lifetime *173. Changed someone’s mind about something you care deeply about 174. Gotten someone fired for their actions 175. Gone back to school 176. Parasailed 177. Changed your name 178. Petted a cockroach 179. Eaten fried green tomatoes 180. Read The Iliad 181. Selected one "important” author who you missed in school, and read 182. Dined in a restaurant and stolen silverware, plates, cups because your apartment needed them 183. …and gotten 86'ed from the restaurant because you did it so many times, they figured out it was you 184. Taught yourself an art from scratch 185. Killed and prepared an animal for eating 186. Apologized to someone years after inflicting the hurt *187. Skipped all your school reunions 188. Communicated with someone without sharing a common spoken language 189. Been elected to public office 190. Written your own computer language 191. Thought to yourself that you’re living your dream 192. Had to put someone you love into hospice care 193. Built your own PC from parts 194. Sold your own artwork to someone who didn’t know you 195. Had a booth at a street fair 196: Dyed your hair blue 197: Been a DJ 198: Found out someone was going to dump you via LiveJournal 199: Written your own role playing game 200: Been arrested ====================== 1. I have self-mutilated before. 2. I still love the song Dragostea Din Tei 3. I used to like New Kids on the Block 4. The 80s was funny. 5. I have realtones enabled on my cellular phone. 6. Public bathrooms scare me 7. I have keys on my belt 8. I’m not wearing a belt 9. I hate writing 10. I hate reading 1. I love compilation CDs 12. My favorite teachers have all been guys 13. I think Bad Religion’s only been around for ten or so years 14. I don’t know who Bad Religion is. 15. I don’t wear my hood unless it’s raining 16. I enjoy smaller clubs rather than big ones 17. I’ve put a song on repeat for more than 8 hours 18. I have sound on my computer  19. Someone wants my hiney. 20. My mom loves Elvis 21. I have my own computer 22. I live on the east coast 23. My favorite animal is a kangaroo 24. I’m on vacation 25. I don’t own a pair of ripped jeans 26. I am very insecure somewhat 27. I love to dance 28. I curse way too much. 29. I choose the pansy way and star out my curse words (f*ck) 30. I feel dumb because I was just called a pansy 31. I have a flatscreen computer 32. I collect something. 33. I’m married 34. I won’t date someone who’s smaller than me smaller, as in also shorter? 35. Brass knuckles are the shit. 36. I own a hand puppet 37. I write with blue pens 38. I wear eye makeup almost every day 39. I wish I lived somewhere other than here 40. I don’t own a band shirt. Not yet anyway.. 41. I love techno. 42. I have my nipples pierced 43. I’m shitty at wrapping presents 44. I know someone in the KKK 45. I’m racist/anti-semitist. 46. I don’t know what those mean. 47. I love life most of the time 48. I have posters all over my room 49. I’ve never been a camera whore with someone.. And I want to. 50. I’m halfway done 51. I wish I lived in the 80s 52. I know what the term borgie means 53. I’m interested in social hierarchy. 54. I love music videos. 55. I have a DVD player 56. I’m drunk right now 57. I’m listening to music 58. I have a big screen TV 59. I have an STD 60. I know the singer of the Clash’s name 61. The only IM program I have is AIM 62. I skateboard regularly 63. I live on the north side of town 64. I have been to Alaska 65. I’ve worn a cowboy hat 66. I watch late night infomercials for retarded, unnecessary things 67. I LOVE DOING THE DEATH GROWL TO MY FAVORITE METAL SONGS. 68. That last question was dumb. 69. I know what the word “peligroso” means in English 70. I speak another language fluently 71. I’ve been in a limo 72. I own a bong 73. My lungs hurt 74. I know someone who’s committed suicide 75. I’ve got a six pack and I don’t need you! 76. I know what band sung the above line 77. I like strong boys. 78. I’m sick right now 79. I know someone who’s currently enlisted in the army 80. I do not own a color phone 81. My birthday is in September 82. I hate mall cops 83. I hate most cops in general 84. I’m wearing blush 85. I live in an apartment 86. I’m still in high school. 87. I own something from Victoria’s Secret 88. I don’t know a boy that wears girls pants 89. I’ve had the same best friend since I was 8. 90. Brownies are my favorite 91. So is cake 92. I’ve heard the song “Looks Good in Leather” 93. I own some sort of propaganda, fake or real 94. I deny the Holocaust happened 95. Kisses are my favorite sign of affection 96. I need to charge my phone 97. My purse could pass for a suitcase 98. I take birth control 99. I only buy what’s fashionable

1. I love bolding 2. I know someone named Mimi 3. I hate my old best friend 4. My favorite alcoholic drink is Jack n Coke 5. I have a digital camera 6. I’m talking to at least one person online 7. I like watching college basketball 8. I have never moved. 9. I have at least one cat 10. I have at least one dog 11. I’m going to see a movie tonight maybe 12. I make my own AIM icons 13. I’m in pain 14. I watch more than five shows a day 15. I love the Cure 16. My parents like some of the same music I do 17. I have never been to the dentist 18. I listen to the radio 19. I do my own laundry 20. I’ve made at least one article of clothing 21. I have/want something on my face pierced 22. I go to at least one concert a week 23. I’ve written a story 24. I’ve dyed my hair every color of the rainbow 25. I own a Grand Theft Auto game 26. My favorite pattern is camoflauge 27. I know someone who does/did cocaine 28. I have too many game systems 29. I love scary movies 30. I hate scary movies 31. I’ve had sex more than 5 times 32. My favorite chips are Lays Original 33. I think butter is unhealthy 34. I hate the Osbournes 35. I used to have dreadlocks 36. I need to take medicine for something 37. I suffer from insomnia 38. I speak ebonics 39. I’ve gambled 40. And won 41. I have at least one gay friend 42. I like going to pet stores 43. I own a dog toy 44. And I don’t have a dog 45. I own more than ten candles 46. I’ve smoked a cigarette in the shower before 47. I’ve flunked a class 48. I listen to music every day 49. I have more than one nickname 50. I wear pajamas when I feel like it 51. I’m wearing more than one jewelry item 52. I haven’t washed my hair in a week 53. I watch the Grammy’s every year 54. Along with the Macy’s Parade 55. My favorite season is winter 56. I have seen the All American Rejects live 57. And I’ve enjoyed it. 58. Boobs are nothing special 59. I go swimming at least once a week in summer. 60. I have a pool. 61. I’ve gone skinnydipping 62. I’ve played strip poker 63. And lost 64. I want a nautical star tattoo 65. My cell phone turns off when it’s charging 66. And it pisses me off 67. I used to buy my entire wardrobe from Hot Topic 68. I’ve been to albinoblacksheep.com 69. My favorite subject is History 70. And/or math 71. I am a republican 72. I am a democrat 73. I listen to the Used occasionally 74. I have been to the Warped Tour 75. I am part Mexican 76. I am part German 77. All of my grandparents are still alive. 79. I love bowling 80. I know that there is a South Park, Colorado 81. I love Dairy Queen 82. Sometimes I think I’m crazy 83. I own a Moffatts CD 84. I own a Backstreet Boys CD 85. I want plastic surgery 86. Operation, operation, snip and tie, snip and tie 87. I know what song that line is from 88. I have killed something [bugs!] 89. I’ve never had a Nokia cell phone 90. I’m never sarcastic 91. Light eyes turn me on 92. I have never been to a foreign country 93. I don’t eat enough 94. I own illegal weaponry 95. I know someone who has overdosed on something 96. And lived to tell about it 97. I don’t own a pair of mittens 98. I love the heat 99. I’ve never had a steady boyfriend/gf 100. I want to makeout.

#survey

[spidersfanfics]

Friendship is a Human Emotion

CG: BUT YEAH

CG: THAT'S THAT WITH JOHN. IT'S A HUGE MESS AND I REALLY DON'T KNOW WHAT TO DO ABOUT ANY OF IT.

CG: NEITHER DOES HE OBVIOUSLY BUT WHEN DOES HE EVER KNOW ANYTHING.

CG: HOPE YOU DIDN'T MIND TOO MUCH. ME RAMBLING AT YOU AND WHATNOT. I KNOW THIS SHIT IS REALLY MORE MOIRAIL STUFF BUT AS I AM CURRENTLY LACKING IN QUADRANTMATES, I FIGURED I'D TALK TO YOU ABOUT IT.

TA: Yeah, iit'2 fiine. What are friiend2 for?

CG: RIGHT, FRIENDS.

CG: I SHOULD GO NOW. THANKS AGAIN SOLLUX.

TA: No prob kk, 2ee ya.

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling twinArmaggedons [TA] --

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmaggedons [TA] --

CG: HEY, SOLLUX

CG: BEE BRAIN LISTEN UP

CG: THIS IS YOUR LEADER SPEAKING GET ONLINE

TA: Jeez II'm here kk what do you want. You're liiterally right acro22 the room from me you know that riight? What'2 2o iimportant that you can't even take two 2tep2 two 2ay iit?

CG: I JUST WANTED TO KNOW IF YOU WANTED TO JOIN ME HERE ON THE HORN PILE TO DISCUSS SOME STUFF.

TA: What kiind of 2tuff?

CG: HUMAN STUFF, JUST GET YOUR ASS OVER HERE

TA: Okay, okay II'm comiing. Oh and by the way, your whole leader 2htiick ii2 2tiil 2tupiid.

-- twinArmaggedons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]--

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmaggedons [TA] --

CG: OKAY SO HERE'S THE DEAL

TA: Why are you 2tiil me22agiing me? II thought the whole of haviing me come over wa2 two talk iin per2on.

CG: SHUT UP. I JUST WANTED YOU CLOSER THAT'S ALL.

CG: DON'T READ TOO MUCH INTO THAT. CARRYING ON.

CG: LOOK WHAT I FOUND.

TA: Oh gog kk have you been goiing on the human iinternet agaiin? Let me gue22, more shiipiing?

CG: NO.

CG: YES.

CG: SHUT UP AND LISTEN.

CG: I FOUND PROOF THAT HUMANS HAVE MOIRAILS. SORT OF.

TA: Okay.

CG: THEY CALL THEM QPRS AND IT'S REALLY QUITE INTERESTING. IT'S DIFFERENT FROM THEIR VERSION OF MATESPRITES. THE DISTINCTION IS FAR LESS CLEAR THAN WHAT WE HAVE BUT IT'S STILL THERE. AND THERE'S A LOT OF DEBATE OVER IT AND STUFF BUT. YOU KNOW MAYBE HUMANS AREN'T SO UNEDUCATED ON THE INTRICACIES OR ROMANCE AFTER ALL.

TA: Lii2ten kk, II love lii2teniing to you talk about 2tupiid 2hiit but what'2 thii2 got two do wiith me?

CG: YOU LOVE TO, NEVER MIND. UMM. WELL, IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU SPECIFICALLY BUT, I DUNNO. I GUESS I JUST WANTED TO SHARE THIS WITH SOMEONE?

TA: KK you really are hopele22. IIf you want a moiiraiil 20 badly why not go talk to gz agaiin?

CG: WHAT? WHO SAID I WANTED A MOIRAIL?

TA: Pfft, you 2hould 2ee your face. Why el2e would you keep briingiing iit up?

CG: OKAY YOU KNOW WHAT. SHUT UP. THAT'S WHAT. AND BESIDES, EVEN IF, HYPOTHETICALLY, I WAS LOOKING FOR A MOIRAIL. I WOULDN'T TALK TO GAMZEE ABOUT IT. HE AND I ARE THROUGH YOU KNOW THAT.

TA: II wa2 ju2t me22iing wiith you kk, don't blow a fu2e.

CG: NO BUT SERIOUSLY. IF I WANTED A MOIRAIL THEY WOULD MORE CALM AND CARING THAN GAMZEE. NO OFFENSE TO HIM BUT HE'S REALLY PRONE TO FLYING OFF THE HANDLE IF YOU KNOW WHAT I'M SAYING. AND THEY WOULD ALSO NOT BE FUCKING ADDICTED TO SOPOR SLIME. AGAIN, SORRY GAMZEE.

TA: Lol, the bar ii2 low after hiim ii2n't iit?

CG: OKAY SHUT UP, I SAID I WAS SORRY. HE'S NOT A BAD GUY BUT HE'S ALSO EXHAUSTING. AND AFTER EVERYTHING THAT'S HAPPENED, I'D REALLY JUST PREFER SOMEONE WHO WAS. I DON'T KNOW, QUIETER? A BIT OF A NERD MAYBE, EVEN.

TA: Well, II wii2h you good luck iin fiindiing 2omeone liike that.

CG: THANKS, I THINK.

CG: WHAT WAS I TALKING ABOUT? OH RIGHT, HUMANS.

TA: Look II'm 2ure your human 2tuff ii2 really iintere2tiing and all but II've gotta go. II'll talk two you later.

-- twinArmaggedons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]--

CA: FUCK, I

CA: NEVER MIND

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling twinArmaggedons [TA]--

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] began trolling twinArmaggedons [TA]--

CA:  ALRIGHT I CAN'T BELIEVE I'M ACTUALLY DOING THIS BUT I'M RUNNING OUT OF OPTIONS. ALSO I THINK YOU MIGHT BE RIGHT AND I SO IS KANAYA SO SORRY FUTURE ME IF THIS ENDS UP BITING ME IN THE ASS

TA: II mean obviiou2ly II'm riight but what exactly are we referiing two here?

CA: YOU KNOW, THE WHOLE THING WE WERE DISCUSSING BEFORE. IN REGARDS TO MY QUADRANTS OR LACK THEREOF?

TA: Oh riight, 2o you're fiinally goiing to talk to gz?

CG: WHAT? NO! WE'VE BEEN OVER THIS, I'M NOT GETTING BACK WITH GAMZEE. CAN'T YOU THINK OF ANYONE ELSE I MIGHT BE MORE INCLINED TOWARDS?

TA: Uhh..

CG: FOR FUCK'S SAKE SOLLUX, HOW MUCH MORE OBVIOUS COULD I BE?

TA: Kanaya?

CG: FUCKING HELL

CG: IT'S YOU. YOU IDIOT. I'M PALE FOR YOU. THERE I SAID IT. WAS THAT SO HARD PAST ME. NO IT FUCKING WASN'T. MUCH EASIER THAN TRYING TO GET SOLLUX TO UNDERSTAND MY SUBTLE HINTS AT ANY RATE.

TA: Me?

CG: YES YOU. ALTHOUGH I FIGURE MY OUTBURST THERE HAS PROBABLY RUINED ANY CHANCE I HAD WITH YOU.

TA: II mean..

CG: NO, IT'S FINE. I GET IT. UNLUCKY IN LOVE, WHAT ELSE IS NEW.

TA: Maybe not

CG: WHAT?

TA: II thiink, II miight als2o be pale for you.

CG: REALLY?

TA: Yeah. II ju2t diidn't want two admiit iit because II thought you would never feel the 2ame. II al2o fiigured you de2erved 2omeone better than me.

CG: OH

CG: I THINK WE NEED TO TALK ABOUT THIS IN PERSON

TA: Yeah.

CG: BUT, MOIRALIEGENCE IS DEFINITLY ON THE TABLE NOW, RIGHT?

TA: Yeah.

CG: OKAY, GOOD.

TA: Don't go anywhere II'm gonna come over. And then we'll talk about thii2.

CG: SOUNDS GOOD.

-- twinArmaggedons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]--

CA: <>

-- carcinoGeneticist [CG] ceased trolling twinArmaggedons [TA]--

#Homestuck #Karkat #Sollux #Solkat #Karkat Vantas #Sollux Captor #Moirails #Pale ship #Solkat pale #Spider Writes Homestuck #Spider Writes

[gaystuartlittle]

Can u pls write a reddie nerd/jock au??? I'm a sucker for those

ok i am so sorry it took me literally a million years to get this bc the first request popped up like. a month ago. but i got this one today and then told myself it was time to give the people what they wanted.

also this got sadder than i meant for it to be - tw for panic attacks! but it's a happy ending!!!!!!!

Rating: T (language) Words: 915

The entire school was buzzing with excitement. Their soccer team had a huge championship game tomorrow and for the first time, they might actually bring home the state championship. It's all because of the star midfielder, Eddie Kaspbrak. Eddie fucking Kaspbrak. Richie's tragically straight best friend and, unfortunately, also his long-time crush. 

Richie was going to the game, of course. He would go anywhere for Eddie. He didn't really fully understand soccer, but he would still go and cheer on Eddie. But, for now, he was focused on his calculus homework. It was his free period, which he normally spent with Eddie, but today he was alone in the library. Eddie was using the time to get in a little extra practice on the field, leaving Richie on his own. It was really more detrimental to Eddie, though, since Richie had been helping (and basically tutoring) him with calculus all semester so far. 

He was breezing through the assigned problems, only looking up when he needed to copy the next one from the textbook. Some people didn't like math, or school in general, but Richie did. It was his thing. Eddie had soccer, but Richie had school. He was good at it - he barely ever had to study. He just understood stuff, even in his hardest AP classes. Sometimes the Losers would tease him, call him a nerd, but he knew it came from a place of love.

Just as Richie had wrapped up his last problem and was running through his mental to-do list, he got a text from Eddie.

(2:13 PM) can you come to the locker room pls

(12:13 PM) i need you

And fuck if that wasn't enough to get Richie out of the library. He knew Eddie didn't mean I need you to kiss me and hold me and make me yours, but he still rushed. He was used to silently pining at this point, struggling with the fact that Eddie was straight and would never feel the same way. The closest he would get to being his boyfriend was being his best friend. And Richie was okay with that. Or, he at least lied to himself and said he was okay with that.

It only took a few moments for him to push through the double doors leading to the guy's locker room. He didn't really know what to expect. He had figured that Eddie had just overextended himself on the field and needed some comfort, or maybe got a few scrapes and bruises. That was not what he found.

Eddie was clutching his knees to his chest and rocking underneath his locker, tears rolling down his face. He held his inhaler with a vice-like grip in his right hand, and Richie watched as he brought the thing up to his mouth. Both of them knew he didn't actually have asthma, but they also knew that it actually helped to calm him down.

"Eds, Eddie, what happened?" Richie asked, quickly sitting down next to his best friend.

"I just- I can't do it. Everyone's expecting me to lead up to this victory and I'm just not good enough for that. I wish- I wish I had the confidence and ease that you have, like with school and stuff. But- but instead I'm just having a fucking panic attack on the floor of the locker room because I've realized that I'm not actually that good at soccer and that I can't do jack shit for our school. And then everyone is going to be disappointed in me. It's just all too much."

"Hey, none of that is true. You're the best damn soccer player out there. You want proof? I could name a single professional player, but I can name you, so that must mean you're the best since I actually bothered to remember your name. And you know what? Even if we don't win, the school isn't going to hate you. They're still going to love their favorite soccer star. And I'm still going to love my little Eddie Spaghetti."

At this point, tears were brimming Richie's eyes too. When he looked up at Eddie, he looked defeated, like he wanted to believe the words coming from Richie's mouth but just couldn't. It broke Richie's heart.

"Eddie, I'm serious. Any person out there would agree with what I'm saying. You're so fucking talented. And you work harder than anyone I've ever-"

Eddie cuts Richie off with a kiss. It's quick, and a little wet because of the tears, but it's still perfect. When Eddie pulls back, he looks scared.

"I'm sorry, Richie. I-I shouldn't have done that," Eddie rushes out. Richie's brain can't seem to think of any words that aren't Eddie kissed me with his perfect soft lips and now I can die happily. 

But he has to stop Eddie from further freaking out, so he leans back in and connects their lips again. This kiss is longer and deeper, and when they pull back, they press their foreheads together and smile.

"I mean it, Eds. You can do fucking anything."

(And yes, they win the game. And yes, it is because of Eddie's last minute goal. And yes, Richie does run out on the field when the game ends and cloak Eddie in his body, spinning him around in celebration. And yes, they do further celebrate by making out in Richie's car before heading to meet the rest of the Losers at the nearby diner.)

#yes eddie is a midfielder because that requires the most running #i played soccer in middle school so i am semi knowledgeable #caroline writes #reddie #richie tozier #eddie kaspbrak #finn wolfhard #jack dylan grazer #james ransone #bill hader #it #it chapter one #it chapter 2 #it chapter two #mine #fanfiction #fanfic #purplepoisonedgem #answered

[boogiewrites]

Reports & Repertoire 17: Resentment & Return

Characters: Eddie Brock x Venom x Candace Miller (OFC)

Summary:  Candy tries to find her way about the world after being roofied and hushed by the media. Eddie is hit with a strong dose of karma, and it's two against one.

Warnings/Tags: Angst. Talk of past trauma and drugging. Revenge plots. Violence and threats.

Click on my icon then go to Mobile Masterlist in my bio for my other works and chapters. 

On the navy comforter of her queen size bed, sat in the middle of her minimalist white and grey room, Candy sits with her best friend Steph who is currently threatening her if she blinks one more time.

“You act like you’ve never put on eyeliner before.” Steph remarks with her judgment not hidden in her tone or expression.

“It’s different when other people are doing it!” She whines. “The makeup artist at work doesn’t do it as hard as you.” She mutters. “She’s also a lot nicer.” She shoots an accusatory brow her way.

“Well she’s getting paid isn’t she?” Steph smirks.

“Fair point.” Candy responds without nodding her head. “But you love me so you should be nice to me. I’m about to go do some important stuff I need support.” She reaches out and grabs at Steph’s unoccupied hand desperately as she bites her tongue and titters.

“Yeah, that’s what you got Eddie for now.” She snarks and shakes her head. “Speaking of, what does he think about all this?”

“He’s as pissed as I am so he’s down. He’s my backup.” She answers with a sultry lilt.

“I’m sure you are backing it up on that beefy, award-winning journalist.” She teases with a fanciful swipe of her hand. “Tell me. When you two have sex do you both have a press conference afterward to discuss the transaction?” Her face remains without a hint of sarcasm as was her skill set.

“As a matter of fact we do. It’s very productive.” She retorts with sassy. “The copy is good to keep and read later alone.” She grins.

“You fuckin’ nerds.” Steph mumbles and shakes her head. Steph was more skilled when it came to makeup than Candy. So for this undercover mission to the rich tech club where the drugging happened, she was helping her not look like herself.

After the initial turn down of her idea to expose the apparently rampant problem she’d been a victim of, she does what few journalists choose to do and gives away her story to someone else. There was a smaller female journalist who did some excellent work at a small newspaper locally. Candy offered her help to give her some footage, evidence and lend the story and support to the endeavor.

The night for the first recon mission was finally upon them. Eddie sits nervously in the modern and cozy living room, knee bouncing and knuckles white with worry. Venom tries to console him, assuring him they would never let anything happen to Candy. Eddie knows, finding his counterparts attempts at comfort to be failing. Putting his favorite person in danger wasn’t really something he could be talked into being excited about. Not a worst-case scenario by far, but a loudly nagging issue, was having to sit and listen to the men hit on Candy all night and that alone was raising his blood pressure.

Candy had pulled out all the stops when it came to mission from the glasses that had a camera inside and nail polish that reacted to Rohypnol, or Roofies. She had to specially ask for the kick starter to be sent to her before the release with the promise of free advertising after the fact to get it. She reveals her disguise, exiting from her bedroom, Venom slithering around the back of the couch to see her before Eddie. She was in something that looked entirely unlike her. A short and tight black dress, a push-up bra with chicken cutlets and enough makeup to give her flashbacks to middle school cheer competitions.

“How do I look?” she asks with a scrunch of her nose.  It’s usual button shape now straight with the help of Steph’s contouring.

“Not like you.” Eddie remarks with an approving nod.

“A big titty goth girlfriend.” Venom says with no humor or irony and the girls begin to laugh. “Why is this funny? This is what Eddie says. Why are you embarrassed Eddie? Large mammary glands and gothic styling are wonderful things in a girlfriend. She wears black. Like me.” he grins as Edie blushes.

“It’s a...an old internet thing, dude just… don’t go around talking about titties so freely. It’s rude.”

“I did not mean to offend… thought it was a compliment.”

“Good use of slang there, hun.” Candy praises his efforts. “I appreciate both of your thinking I have big tits though. It’s just the bra.” she laughs and shakes as Venom’s grin grows wider.

“Calm down.” Eddie groans.

“We are calm,” he says retracting himself back to Eddie’s shoulder. “Are you ready? We’ve got a long night ahead of us.”

“Let’s check the camera first.” Candy says with a clear enthusiasm Eddie did not share.

They run the tests and she learns how to direct her gaze most efficiently. They’d gone over the plan a dozen times. Arrive alone, sit and be bait while Venom lurked on the roof and kept a lookout for her and her victim. They left the house separately, both in taxis that picked them up at places other than her house. She arrived as planned and sat, and waited.

For a girl that looked like her, in a bar like that, it didn’t take long once it was established she was alone. No one recognized her, but she didn’t expect them to, Steph’s contouring really was a miracle worker. She played fun and easy, and it took a few guys, but late enough in the night she finally caught one as she played drunk on top of everything else. She didn’t see the guys who had drugged her before, which was a letdown but anyone who would do this deserved it right?

She talked him up, a trust fund baby who, with his father's money, had a tech start-up. It took no effort on her part to get him talking about his genius and how HE would run Tesla if he had the chance. There were a lot of “Oh my god that’s CRAZY!” and “That’s SOOOO smart.”’s from her but he was so caught up in hearing himself he didn’t notice the soundboard answers as they came from her like a kid hitting buttons on a customized keyboard. With the mere suggestion of her excusing herself and asking him to get her another drink, he was antsy to put his own plan into action. On return, she tested it while distracting him with her chest. A task that proved almost too easy. She fake drank for a while before claiming to feel sleepy and wanting to “get this show on the road” before it got too late.

With a short walk, not even a few blocks down, she knew her alien accomplice was close, slinking in the darkness of the rooftops. The disguised Candy pulls the unsuspecting predator out of the street lamp lit sidewalk and into the dank shadows of the greasy alleyway.

“I  just can’t wait.” she giggles “I don’t want to chance my roommate being in and I want you all to myself.” she coos with a bop of her manicured finger to his nose.

“I mean, your roommate can join in too if she wants.” he offers with a smug smirk.

“Well, the problem is my roommates a dude.” She answers with an upward inflection.

“Ah, red flag much?” he laughs.

“No. He’s my boyfriend… and inhabited by a symbiote.” Her delivery goes flat, sober eyes meet the pursuer turned victim.

“What the fuck? You goth girls are fuckin’ crazy, man. Not even the drugs could come up that shit.” he shakes his head, still laughing.

“No. Really. He’s huge and dangerous and doesn’t like you. You’re a piece of shit who tries to drug women to sleep with them because you're a pathetic excuse for a human who can’t get laid on his own.”

“Wait, what?” he stutters, suddenly standing up straight as Venom drops from the rooftop behind her in an impressive slinking mass. She has to admit, the look of horror on his face did things to her. The sheer terror that only being faced with death could give a dense, self-worshiping asshole like him.

“We’re going to eat you. First that big head of yours...then slurp up your organs like fava beans and then drink your adrenaline glands like a nice  chianti.” His dagger teeth drip with drool, proof of his hunger and intention.

Candy beams with pride for the completion of their plan, stepping back and chuckling quietly at the reference Venom made. The guy doesn’t even have time to scream. There’s not a drop of blood or splatter left of him to find. It’s like it never happened at all.

Candy is left with a deeply satisfied, albeit disturbingly good feeling in her gut. “I’ll see you later, babe.” she whispers and just as quiet as they’d came, they fled.

This continued for a few weeks, the footage of the drugging is stored on an external harddrive Candy kept in her safe. Eddie thought it’d only happen once. But it happened again, twice, three times more before there were articles about mysterious disappearances of the young rich elite in town. Was it the work of the Illuminati some articles asked? She read them with her coffee every Tuesday and smiled knowingly. It pleased Venom. Finally, a human that understood him and his need to kill to eat and protect this planet and its people. But Eddie was more worried than relieved at this point.

—- “You made us stop hunting when we got too much media attention. And now you want to go out and do it again?” Candy could hear the concern for her in Eddie's voice but her own was too strong to heed his warning.

“I wanna find the guy that originally did it to me, Eddie.” Her eyes give away the hurt that’s been fueling her anger as her hands move animatedly while she argues her point. “These are awful people, same as who you get rid of, there’s no reason not to give it one more shot.”

Eddie sighs and puts his hands on his hips, feeling as if he was talking to his old self. “Candy, I don’t want a fight alright? I get why you’re upset and I’d be upset too!” His voice inflected hugger pitched with feeling, “Hell, I AM upset! I get it. I do but ya know you can’t keep pushing it. Your luck will run out… like mine did. You’ll push it just one step too far because of your pride and then boom, it all falls apart.”

“Am I supposed to just let it go what they did to me? To the countless other girls they’ve done it too?” He saw the tears she fought back and his heart hurt for her. He suddenly understood everyone that had tried to warn him of the same thing in the past. It was weird karma to witness.

He sighs and gives her sad and tired eyes, much like the ones she was giving him. “You aren’t… losing by moving on ya know. You can’t win them all, just believe me, babe, please. I’ve BEEN where you are alright? I GET it! I swear I do but you can't fix every wrong out there. You just can’t… I’m sorry.”

“I’m going out tonight. And you’re going to be there. That... I hesitate to call him a person but that asshole will be there who did this to me. I just know it. Let me do it just one more time and I’ll stop okay? Please Eddie?”

He groans and feels Venom wants to give his two cents. He was on Candy's side. But of course, he was, he didn’t grasp the situation fully because he couldn’t, he was damn near indestructible right now and one more buffet of bad guys seemed like it had no downsides when you took into account it meant making Candy happy. And they both wanted that, so desperately. She’d been so much happier since they’d started this after the funk she denied she’d fallen into after the roofie.

“Fine.” He says with more anger. “But just one more time Candy I swear to god, this is the last time I’m helping you do this.” He wags his finger and she doesn’t care. She doesn’t notice. She’d already gotten her way.

—— She had her ritual now she liked to do, the getting ready and primping. The adrenaline rush was enough to get anyone hooked on the feeling. Perhaps it was what made her go against sound advice. Perhaps it was the lack of justice for herself, feeling like a martyr to take on people who seemed untouchable. It was the origin story she’d dreamed of since she was young. A woman wronged, going against the bad guys for the ultimate revenge and winning against the odds. It was everything she’d wanted. And she foolishly thought she could have it.

She was right about one thing. The guy that drugged her was there that night. She and Venom only used this convenient coincidence to shut Eddie up. “It’s a sign!” They’d hissed together.

“It’s a bad idea.” was Eddies defeated reply.

Candy enjoys this one a little too much, a little too true-crime podcast subject for Eddie's liking.

She leads him to the alley with her curves and promises. Her heels giving her no trouble but her wobbly ankles playing like they did all the same to the target.

“You believe in karma?” She proposes, lips so close she could taste the alcohol in the air on his breath.

“Nah, you get what you work for. You gotta step on some toes sometimes to prove you’re the best. If you lose you didn’t try hard enough.” He cockily answered. Something he’d probably picked up from the few interactions he had with him billionaire father growing up. His trust fund was a shield against his own evil deeds.

“That’s a shame. Because I do.” She sighs.

“I don’t think we have to match up on our philosophy 101 ideas, babe.” He chuckles. “Don’t have to have anything in common at all to do what I wanna do to you.” His hands lead to her hips and next thing he knows there’s a knife pressed into his neck. This was new. This wasn’t part of the plan.

Eddie's heartbeat picks up as he sees through Venom's eyes what’s happening. She was in too deep and she was only going to dig herself deeper.

“I’m glad we have one thing in common for what I’m going to do to you.” She snarls, taking her wig and glasses off.

“What the…?!” He says with no fear and only surprise. “Wait aren’t you? Holy shit you again?” He laughs. “So you’re the one doing this little vigilante justice thing. How cute.”

“Cute? You were going to rape me and my friend you fucking disgusting, baby dicked piece of shit.”

“They're onto you sweetie.” He grins. “You can do whatever you want to me but you think killing the brightest minds in the world was a smart idea? Like no one would come looking? You really are stupid.”

“You can call me whatever you want because you’ll be dead and I’ll be able to breathe a little easier knowing one less asshole like you is in this world.”

“Do what you want little girl, but I’m gonna put up a fight you can’t win.” He smirks.

“Doubtful.” Is Venom's response as he appears looking over Candy in the dim and dank alley.

“Good riddance.” She says angrily, putting her wig back on. She continues to mutter curses and name call while her eyes well up with a long-held release that was a long time coming.

“Are you-“

“I’m FINE.” She snaps and wipes at a falling tear. Venom recoils noticeably. “I’ll... see you later.” She rushes out before stomping off.

“Eddie?”

“I know man. She’s just… going through a lot.”

“We are worried.”

“Yeah. We are.”

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

@hardygal69​ @marvelgirl7​ @emerald-bijou @brianaisasongbird​ @vale0413​ @izzy-the-ginger​ @chortletortoise @onomatopoetic-aesthetic @anrm1 @jademox​ @nightcraver​ @venomous-possibiities @tinastarkandco​ @chipster-21​ @ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes​ @queenof-wakanda @s-h-e-w-r-i-t-e-s​ @peakys-mystic​ 

#venom #eddie brock #eddie brock fanfic #venom fanfic #venom fan fic #venom fandom #venom fan fiction #venom fic #tom #eddie brock fic #eddie brock fan fiction #eddie brock x ofc #eddie brock au #eddie brock x reader #eddie brock fan fic

[chris-chaoticdumbass-mclean]

Chris is Loki’s son headcanons:

Loki is definitely the producer of the TD franchise

World Tour was happening during SpiderMan: Far From Home

Loki has a disguise on when he is the producer

Loki is just there, supporting his son

Chris looks a lot like Loki

he’s also got all the traits

He’s got the hair too

and it explains why the fuckin show is still airing bc you know silver tongue all that convincing things

Christ doesn’t know until he shows Chef his dad

he’s just like hey this is my dad and Chef is like, “why does he look like the guy who invaded new york with aliens” and Chris is just kinda like “oh shit wait”

it’s probably a picture that Chris shows him, so Loki isn’t actually there when this happens

so Chris kinda brings it up next time they see each other, like “hey you ever been to New York?”

Loki be like “ummmmmmmm possibly” and just saunters away briskly

and chris runs after him like ok bro are you an evil chaos god or not i don’t care either way

then loki just looks at him like fine yes and chris is like bro that’s so cool so am i a god to

chris gets super excited about having superpowers

and loki is like “chill, all the ones you have you’ve been using already without noticing” “the charm, the convincing, good at speaking, never seeming to age bc of an increased life span”

Queue Chris being like “oh cool”

Thor met Chris before Loki told him about Chris and Thor is very confused talking to him, like “why does this human remind me of my brother”

bc loki of course put shields so that no one could sense him

Loki going to see the avengers and Chris tagging along and like everyone who’s anyone knows who chris mclean is

read: everyone but steve

And when Loki with Chris comes, Thor is like... “iTS YOU AGAIN”

and Chris is like “i tHOUGHT you looked like Thor, but i didn’t say anything bc i’m a nICE GUY”

and everyone just stares at him and until he’s like “ok fine, i’m an ok guy”

and tony is like “why tf are you here” and chris just goes “well, i was having lunch with dear ol dad here, until he was called away by mr thunder over there and he asked me if i wanted to come and i had nothing better to do, so i said why not”

and everyone, including steve, is like did you just say dAD

then someone, probably clint, is like wow ok that explains sooo much

Peter walks in. Says hi to everyone. Like:

Hi Mr. Loki

Hi Chris McLean—

w A I T

CHRIS MCLEAN!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

and he starts gushing over how awesome he is, Tony looks very concerned

Chris has no idea who he is or why he’s here in avengers tower but he’s just like “thanks kid, always nice to meet a fan”

Catch Peter calling up Shuri bc Shuri is meme god and Chris is a Top Tier meme

Catch Shuri flying over as fast as she can

Chris acts all cool but internally he’s lowkey freaking out like “holy shit i’m here with the avengers and the princess of wakanda is apparently such a huge fan of mine she’s flying here right now i can’t wait to tell Chef”

Chef in the mean time, is trying to keep the place together

while this is all going down Chris pulls out is phone and texts him like CHEF IM WITH THE AVENGERS

And Chef is like “suuuuuuuuure you are, and I’m wearing a tutu”, he needs some picture proof

Loki looks over Chris’s shoulder while he texts Chef cause that’s what parents do

once Shuri gets there and stuff he just sighs and goes “ok i feel bad asking this but my friend is refusing to believe i’m with the avengers until i send him a picture”

Peter and Shuri are like “cHEF?!?!!”

and they’re like “YES TAKE A PICTURE RIGHT NOWso chris gets one of all the avengers which facial expressions ranging from confused to concerned

Chef in the mean time, is making sure the contestants don’t kill each other, and he checks his phone being like “oh shit”

and then he sees Shuri and is like “WAIT IS BLACK PANTHER THERE?!” bc we all know Chef’s favorite is Black Panther bc T’Challa is a god

Chris just looks up like “he wants to know if Black Panther is here”

He is here, someone has to chaperone Shuri, make sure she doesn’t make any more lightsabers

he walks in and Chris is like “hey man kinda feel bad for asking but my friend is a huge nerd and wants to know if he can get a picture or video of you or something”

and T’Challa just stops like, “aren’t you the guy that runs the show my sister is obsessed with?”

meanwhile Shuri and Peter are freaking out bc Chris McLean just called Chef Hatchet a nerd

so T’Challa is like “uhhhh sure”, so Chris takes a selfie with him and sends it to Chef who is like “that’s amazing but please come back Duncan is trying to kill Harold again”

Shuri isn’t allowed to make lightsabers in Wakanda anymore because of... an incident, Chris tried to get a said lightsaber from Shuri (they are still in the Avengers Tower), T’Challa had to stop her

Shuri did something and now lightsabers are banned in Wakanda, but that doesn’t stop her from coming to the US to make them

she just like “hey chris mclean want a lightsaber?” and chris is like “omg y e s”

Peter already has a lightsaber, so does Tony

chris is like “get me that lightsaber and i’ll be your friend forever” Bc ya know Star Wars nerd

Loki then reveals that fact to everyone else bc he knows of course who else is Chris going to gush about star wars with other then Chef?

Peter and Shuri are just stunned bc Chris McLean is a star wars nerd

and Chris just shrugs like “bros i wore my x-wing pilot suit like at least twice on national television”

And that’s it!

Feel free to add more!

#our au #td #total drama #td chris #tdi #chris mclean #td chef #td duncan #td harold #chris is loki’s son #loki #td headcanons #td marvel #cody and i are living off this au #this is from our text convo #peter parker #shuri and t'challa #shuri #t’challa #tony stark #thor #lightsaber #marvel

[writings-from-the-hart]

Writebr Intro

Writeblr Intro Time!

Hiya! This is so overdue and I apologize for that lol. I’ve been meaning to write this but school seems to always be getting in the way of just that. Writing. But here I am finally writing this! And yes my username is a pun of my own last name but I just couldn’t resist.

So basically, I really want to surround myself with other writers and have stumbled across tons of writeblr’s (I think that’s what they’re called lol). Instantly I was in love and wanted more of what the community had to offer. I’ve been a self-proclaimed “author” or writer since my early years of grade school. I was that child in the back of the class with ADHD that couldn’t sit still (the cliche bouncing leg and always chewed down nails) and had what my mother called an “overactive imagination”. My notebooks in high school were often filled with wild stories about “galaxies far far away” or dystopias with cruel governments ruled by dictators. Now I’m in my second year of college swamped with classes about the Psychology of criminals (or I like to call the science of murder), and trying to find time to write a novel. So the struggle is real my dudes.

A little about Me:

Hana

20

She/Her

Pisces

Asexual

Forensic Psychology Major and English with a concentration in Writing Minor

Book hoarder

Dog Mom

Vintage AF

Low Key Emo Punk because I’m no average white girl!

History nerd (Love learning about the old wars and cultures)

Movie nerd (There’s an endless stack of DVDs in my house)

Fandoms:

The Mandolorian (or the ManDADolorian)

Star Trek

Star Wars

Hannibal

X-Files

King Falls Am

Welcome to Nightvale

Transformers (Obviously not the bad movies lol. Bumblebee is baby and must be protected always.)

Good Omens

Sherlock

Lord of the Rings

Marvel (There are so many shows and movies in this category we would be here all day if I tried to list them.)

Timeless (Not sure if the fandom is still alive after what the writers did to one of our ships lol)

DC (I’m a huge Batman geek and adore Wonderwoman, but I take the good with the bad when it comes to this fandom. Especially movie-wise anymore.)

And there’s probably more but my memory isn’t working currently.

Goals?. . . maybe:

Get my novel finished (This has literally been on my To-Do List for who knows how long.)

Meet more writers/new writers.

Improve my poetry (I suck at poetry so I bad I never let it see the light of day, so I need to work on it.)

Start my bullet journal.

Wips:

Okay by now you all know I have at least 1 Wip because I mentioned getting a freaking novel done, but just as a precaution as to what I mean by Wip or Wips. I get distracted quite easily, for some odd reason my brain absolutely loves to jump from one idea to another for no absolute reason. Like WTF dude we already have an idea we’re working on why do you keep bringing all these new ones to me like stray dogs. And like any good dog Mom or distracted writer, I want to keep all the ideas/stray dogs. So, when I say Wip I mean “Look at this cool idea I came up with” and I’ll make sure to specify which one is hogging most of my time.

Renegade: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

This is my baby. Most of my free time is dedicated to adjusting plotlines, character arc’s, fixing freaking plot holes, and other important stuff other than just plain writing. I’m hoping to finish this also monster of a story by 2020 and get it published. So big stuff!  

“So tell me little wolf do you want to punish those who have wronged you?” An assassin known as the Crimson Ghost makes their way through the corrupt city-state of Ashton completing a job given to them by the Black Rose. What is a seemingly normal job though turns into something far more complicated when they stumble upon the fractions of an abandoned notebook from the past. A past the Republic is trying to desperately hide and bury no matter what. On the other side of the world in the Republic’s capital Eshar, plainly referred to as “The Prodigy” or “machine” by his superiors,  Eric Coalwood has built a life upon the ashes of his family, striving to meet the high expectations set before him by his mentor General Wolfheart. However, his life falls out of its normal day to day routine when the unexpected is asked of him. Command a task force made up of the Republic’s most wanted or his life is over. Eric doesn’t need reasons for why he must do what he has to, all he needs are orders and the Republic is more than happy to give them. Either way the clock is ticking for both the Crimson Ghost and the Republic’s prodigy and with time running out they both have two options. Either get over their different beliefs concerning the Republic or allow the world to once again succumb to war but this time nobody is going to survive it. “Legends are slippery things. For the glory that coats them hides the pain, suffering and death that created them.”

The Trouville Files: Dystopian, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.

Not my biggest priority but definitely one of them considering the plot of this story. I mainly use this wip as a reference for Renegade because it’s actually the prequel to it. Also, it’s great to use as writing practice when I’m plagued with writer’s block for Renegade or frustrated with a plot hole. So this is my double-edged sword that does a lot of good.

“Death in these black days is neither kind nor quick.” The year is 2153, the world we know is nothing more than a wasteland strewn with the dead and a sky being choked by their ashes, not glorious and thriving but desolate and starving. The Red Death, a pandemic with a steady progression and a gruesome countdown to the demise of those infected. No one outruns it or survives it. “United we stand, divided we fall.” The Allied Nations, a totalitarian superpower, promised a united people but all they gave this world was more death and destruction. The Red Death isn’t the only thing slowly killing humanity anymore, we are in the form of the War of Broken Pacts. The spark of revolution is lit, but if it will remain so is a question asked by everyone. Does it stand a chance against the iron-fisted government holding the people in shackles? “Rebel with a cause.” Genius Medical Officer for The People’s Republic, Cyprus Ramiro works day and night in search of a cure for the Red Death exterminating hundreds, at least before this war kills him first. But he is also a man on the run and the rebellion can only shelter him for so long. “Duty over pain.” Cunning Spy and Soldier, Orion Ultor is ordered by the Allied Nations to infiltrate and gather information on the ever-growing People’s Republic. In bold letters is Search and Destroy; make a ruin of the rebellion and ensure the Allied Nations remains as it should -- unquestionably in power. No matter the cost unless he wants to suffer the consequences again. “If we fall we shall rise from the ashes like a phoenix.” They should have never met, battlefields don't make good friends. It wasn't fate, it wasn't destiny, only war throwing people together.  The Allied Nations is trying to stamp out something they fear, but can they before the Red Plague? Or will humanity find itself extinct.

Beyond his point is where I house my stray dogs/ideas

Hiraeth: Paranormal, Horror, Mystery, and Thriller.

Scooby-doo who?

Hiraeth means a homesickness for a home which you cannot return. That is how Arcane feels like she’ll never be home no matter how hard she tries to connect with her family. The closest she feels to being home is with her friends and in the worn leather seats of the van they all pitched in to buy. It all started out as a way to pass time and for all of them to escape their families because to be honest parents never understand, but it all turned sideways when a simple “ghost hunting trip” stirred something that was meant to remain buried. The truth never remains buried though, not really, somehow it will always creep back in ugly and twisted. Arcane has never felt “at home” but she’ll do whatever it takes to keep what she considers her family safe.

Sweet Dreams: Historical Fiction, Thriller, and Romance.

A literal dream turned into story plot and no I’m not kidding.

The Red String of Fate, The Lovers, and War. These are the three elements intertwined within the plot of Sweet Dreams but before anyone makes any assumptions this isn’t some chummy rom-com. There will be tears and heart strings may get yanked clean out because the angst is real. War and love never mix well, it leaves a sour taste in ones mouth and makes the mind question things it shouldn’t. Like is the woman in his dreams the same woman he sees in all his dreams? Constantly he somehow ends up spotting that same ruby red lipstick, honey golden eyes, and brunette hair laying in perfect curls. She’s everywhere except in his actual life. They say you and your soulmate share dreams, living proof of how intertwined souls are. She doesn’t believe in love or the idea of souls, not with the monsters roaming around the countryside and battlefield carrying assault rifles. Society tells her where her place is, but she disagrees and rather create her own destiny.

The Prophet: Paranormal, Thriller, Post-Apocalypse, and Science Fiction.  

A short story I can’t seem to let go or it doesn’t want to let me go, but either way, this story has the makings for something great. It also at times seems strikingly similar to Good Omens, so don’t be surprised.

There’s no anti-christ in this story, he already has a book about himself so let’s not make another one besides there are other stories that need to be told. Such as, have you ever heard of modern day prophets and I’m not talking about those people with cardboard signs saying “the end is near!” or giant churches with people preaching about the end times. No, I’m talking about a kid with messy hair and dark circles under their eyes because sleep is no longer a choice due to migraines that plague them every night. Migraines that bring weird cryptic messages that make one question their own sanity. And what happens when strange people start asking about said migraines and messages?

Virago: Fantasy, Thriller, Historical Fiction, and Romance.

I’m not a huge fantasy reader, for some reason I can’t stay invested in them, but here I am with a fantasy story in my wips. It has mages, knights, assasination plots, and one super badass general who takes zero shit from her king. That’s right women empowerment, my dudes! I don’t really have much of a synopsis inline or a plot because this is only of those wips I let rattle around in my brain from time to time. But I will say it does give me that LOTR vibe but also Game of Thrones.  

Don’t be surprised if you see my stray doggos from time to time because I will admit I love to play around with storyboards. Even if I don’t have a fully planned out plot put together for it.

And that concludes this what was supposed to be short Writeblr Intro. I hope I have peaked some of your guys’ interests because the community definitely got a hold of minee. Feel free to send me a message about anything I mentioned (even if it’s just fandom shit I don’t care) and don’t be shy. I’m a huge introvert but somehow love talking, so don’t worry it won’t be awkward and odds are I’m equally nervous about conversation lol. Also, feel free to add me to any taglist and reblog/like if you’re active and would like more Writeblr mutuals!

Happy Writing,

Writings-from-the-Hart

#writeblr #wips #writer intro #my ocs

[dungeonqueering]

The Tragedy of Tiphareth and Nureyev.

Third post in a row bay beee

Too bad this one's sad.

During the second arc of this campaign, when the players were still trying to find special magic items to let them pop the magic bubble they'd lived their entire lives under.

It turned out that one of them was the price (a tiara) for winning a race. So first they had to secure a sponsor (They got fantasy Budweiser) to basically give them a spot in the race.

Plot conveniently, they needed 3 people. We have 3 players. They already had a driver, too!

His name was Tempest. I had already picked his personality out, and then realized I had basically made an Aasimar version of Peter Nureyev from The Penumbra podcast's Juno Steele and the _________ line of stories.

That image stuck with me, as you'll see. I even did my best to do his voice.

So, the day before the race... Tempest, who had already been flirty towards Tiph, the Paladin, asked him on a date. Tiph blue-screened for a minute, and had to go call his older sister on a stone of far speech to say like "Hey what do I do if I like a boy and a boy likes me and he asks me on a date and I want to go?"

So their date mostly consisted of Tempest doing cool driving tricks, and claiming to be from outside the bubble, but then laughing about it. They had a cliffside picnic, and they shared a brief kiss before Tempest ominously insisted that "No matter what happens after the race tomorrow, all of this was real. These feelings, these moments, that kiss."

I should note at this point that I had NO IDEA where I was going with this character at this point, just that I knew he would be tied to the main plot.

So they do some cool whacky racers stuff, and win the tiara. Tempest takes it, and dives off a cliff. When they look after him, they see a portal close, and nothing else.

BUT dun dun dun, turns out the tiara he stole was a fake that they bring to the physical race. The real one is back in a vault for safekeeping, specifically to keep ppl from stealing it like this.

So they go to the vault, and find a note that just says "I know it was a fake" along with the real tiara. Which means he intentionally stole the fake. Why????

SO during the next arc, it turns out that Tiph's family has some dealings with these artifacts. That his family is trying to stop the party from collecting them, and they have 2 out of 3 now. The track the third to an auction house. It had been sold. Who else could be there investigating but Tempest. They ask him, "Like, what the fuck?" And he basically says "Tempest? Never heard of him. My name's Defiance." And he grins and I ended the session.

Next session, while Tiph was busy losing all his trust for everyone and everything and blue-screening, The Warlock cast Suggestion and basically made Tempest/Defiance leave for the rest of the arc.

They track down the item, it turns out Tiph's family are drug dealers and popping the bubble will interfere with their business plan. See, they have a deal with someone on the outside. They basically push a cart full of supplies through every now and then. No sapient life can go through, but cart's full of Fantasy Meth can.

So Tiph doesn't hardly trust ANYONE now. But then Tempest/Defiance shows up. He says that he was working for Tiph's family to help the party. He says they won't believe him without proof of what he has to say next. So they pop the bubble and, at Tempest/Defiance's word, go to a town further from home than they've ever been.

They are looking for a book, one that doesn't exist inside the bubble. A history test. A specific history text. On the way, Tiph and Tempest have a moment. Tiph basically says "Look, I really liked you, and I've never liked anyone like that. So for you to go and just disappear, to not tell me what's going on... I can't trust you. I don't even know your real name."

And that's when Tempest just sighs and says "Nureyev. Peter Nureyev."

Tiph laughs and says "That's a horrible name."

Nureyev laughs and says "I know, that's how you know I'm telling the truth."

So they go to a library, kill some devils, and find this 400 year old history book. It's written by....... Peter Nureyev. And it has an illustration of the four of them, labeled something like "The heroes who formed the bubble"

Dun dun dun....

SO, Nureyev is like "OK, now that you know that you have been to the past, and that I met you then, and that I am 400 years old, I really have no more secret. I will answer all your questions."

Of course, this absolutelt SHATTERED what little trust Tiph had left. He was a very broken man for a while. The only details important from this next part are that

1. Tiph and Nureyev had been at least sort of dating when they met before, the degree to which they were together was not clear.

2. Nureyev had just wanted one more day with Tiph, because he knew he wouldn't likely get more. That's why he was shady about it at first. It was the best explanation I could give since I didn't really plan at all, I just opened my mouth and plot came out.

So the three of them travel back in time. They meet young!Nureyev. Unlime his future persona, he is a timid priest of Torm. He is a huge need, and he specializes in monster lore. He's awkward and shy and, if I may say so, very cute.

Tiph and him do grow closer. It takes Nureyev literally six months to work up the courage to ask Tiph on a date. That went well, but I OOG ruined it by making a small joke and then ugly laughing about it for 10 minutes (which I hated.)

They go through a lot together. About a year in, when Nureyev has already fallen painfully in love with Tiph (I'm skipping a lot here), He finds out that Tiph is from the future. They argue just a little bit, but ultimately, Nureyev is fine with it until the moment Tiph says something about how they'll never work out because of it. He knows that Nureyev has to spend the next 400 years doing spy shit, and becoming a very very different person. And he's right. So Nureyev reluctantly leaves. They continue to work together for 4 years, until they form the bubble and accomplish all their goals in the past (Including acquiring the Book of Exalted Deeds). They go back to the present.

It had been about 15 minutes for Old!Nureyev. And he looked like he hurt so much more. He just simply said "I'm glad you're back." But the pain, the love, the longing in his eyes was clear.

So they had two weeks before the final attack on the Lich's tower. Amidst preparations, which Nureyev was gone for half of since he had to go rally the armies, Tiph and Nureyev finally talked. It was the night before the assault. Nureyev wanted to ask, one more time, if it could ever work between them.

Tiph assured him that it could not. Nureyev nodded, and switched to talking about tactics and such.

It's going to be really tough because in one of the games, which I will eventually detail the rules for, you see multiple copies of "The person you love most".

For Tiph, that's probably his older sister.

For Nureyev.... His family has all been gone for centuries. Tiph is the only person alive he loves at all.

And at this point, I'm wondering if it's better to complete the tragic arc and kill Nureyev in the final session, or if he really can go back to his quiet coastal home town, and just be a priest and a nerd for monsters again. The party has known him both when he was too afraid to lift a sword, and when he was prepared to ramp a fantasycar off a rock to do a sick flip in the air. They knew him when he shook at the idea of seeing a Beholder in person, and at a time when he isn't even flyinching in front of a lich.

I guess the question is... Does Nureyev even know who he is anymore?

[caramell0w]

The Acquisition- Chapter 14

Parings: Business owner!Bucky x Reader (AU)

Summary: You are part of a business merger. Can you make it through with your heart still intact, or will The Winter Soldier tear you apart?

Warnings: More proof her dad is an ass and needs to rot in hell. 

A/N: I just hope everything works out okay!

Word Count: 1564

Masterlist | Previous Chapter

If you like my fanfic, check out my books

I’m in a standoff with my dad, neither of us saying anything. I hear movement behind me, and I spin to see Jasper walking toward me. “Stay the fuck away from me.” I take a step back, trying to keep my distance from everyone. I know there is no way I am going to be able to outrun anyone. Not in my current condition anyway.

I look at my dad again. “This is one of the men that kidnapped me and tortured me, Dad. Why are you helping him?” I want to cross my arms over my chest, but everything hurts too much.

“He stopped me from getting a huge account. This was going to put Landon Enterprises above Barnes’ and I was going to pay off my debt instead of selling the company.” He tilts his chin in Bucky’s direction. “Your future husband stopped all that when he got wind of what was happening. Mr. Sitwell and Mr. Rumlow have been working for me for some time now.”

“So you’re the one who set this whole thing up? Sent them to take me and torture me?”

“Well, Brock took it a bit far. You weren’t supposed to be so bashed up. I need to be able to sell you off to someone else once James is no longer around.”

I’m baffled at his statement. I don’t even notice when Jasper comes up behind me and wraps his hand in my hair, holding me in place.

“James, you’re being quiet. Anything to add to this conversation?” Richard asks.

“Only a real bottom feeder would use his own daughter for personal gain. When we get out of here, you’re going to rot in a prison cell. I’ll make sure I do everything in my power to make sure to spend the rest of your miserable life there.”

The man behind him cocks his gun and presses it into Bucky’s head. Bucky stands there so calm, but I can’t. “NO!” I yell. Jasper holds my hair a bit tighter and I flinch from the pain in my scalp.

“Y/N, look at me,” he commands.

I look at Bucky, tears staining my cheeks. “He’s not going to kill me yet. He needs me.”

“You’re right, James. I won’t. Not yet anyway; but that doesn’t mean I can’t shoot you at all.”

The man standing behind him pulls the trigger and Bucky goes down to his knees with a grunt. I watch the smoke curling up from the end of the gun and I hear a blood curdling scream before I recognize it as my own. I struggle to free myself from Jasper, but he pulls my head back so I’m looking at the ceiling. He leans in, “Don’t worry he won’t suffer too much. Wish I could say the same thing for you.” My neck hurts from careening it back so far, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. “I’m so glad I learned just how far James will go to protect you. It certainly has come in handy. I don’t think we would have made it this far if it wasn’t for that.”

“Why not wait until after we’re married? I would have a controlling interest in the company. Wouldn’t that work out better for you?”

Good old dad chimes in. “Yes, it would. Unfortunately, we don’t have that kind of time. Alexander Pierce will be here soon and we need the contact signed showing the company will foot the bill. This project is going to bring in millions of dollars.”

“Yes, and endanger the lives of thousands of people.”

“Richard, why enter into this merger and the arranged marriage with George if you were just going to devise a take over? What’s the point?” Bucky asks from his spot of the floor.

“The marriage was arranged before this even fell in my lap. I didn’t have a choice at the time, and then I hoped you wouldn’t find out about it,” he sneered.

“You had to figure we would have been watching everything. It’s a liability to take on a company your size without knowing everything.” Bucky leans forward and grabs his leg, trying to stop it from bleeding. “Are you just going to let me bleed out here? I mean, it would probably be easier to let me die.” The smile Bucky displays isn’t warm and fuzzy, it’s dark and sinister. He’s planning something, but I have no idea what it is.

Richard sighs and shakes his head. “Take him to the back room and tie him down somewhere. Get the bleeding to stop. For the love of God, don’t let him get any blood on any more of the rugs. This one is already going to be a bitch to clean.” My phone starts ringing in my pocket. “Answer it.”

Hey drag Bucky off as Jasper pulls it from my pocket and I can see it’s Steve calling. “Ah, looks like the lap dog is trying to get in touch with them.”

That’s right! Steve is still outside in the car. He’s going to help us get out of this, I just know it. Jasper puts it on speaker. “Hello?” I ask.

“Ah, Ms. Y/L/N. It’s a pleasure to speak with you. My name is Alexander Pierce, and I’ve heard a lot about you from your father.”

“Where’s Steve?” My voice is shaky now.

“Your guard is alive. There are a few things I need from you in order to make sure he lives.”

“You’re going to let me see that he’s alive for myself.” I struggle to get out of Jasper’s grasp and I’m sure I pull a stitch in the process.

“You have no right to make demands.” He walks through the front door, his eyes shimmering in delight.

“Clearly you need me for something and unless I help willingly, you’re not going to get what you want. I want to see Steve, alive. I want to talk to him for a few minutes.”

He smiles as he stops directly in front of me. “You’ve got balls, don’t you, girl?”

I continue my struggle to get free. “I had to learn real fast when daddy dearest arranged my marriage to James. You are not to hurt either Steve or James otherwise you will never get what you want.”

He shrugs, “That’s fine, I don’t actually need either of them, I just need you. James can currently stop this because of the arrangement and the selling of the company at the time of the wedding. That’s in the agreement. Once the papers are signed and everything is legal, the process of selling begins. If you’re no longer in the picture Richard keeps Landon Enterprises for a while longer and we can move forward with the business arrangement. The wedding has already been postponed for a few weeks, we only need a few more to finalize everything.”

“Then why kidnap me and ask he fix it in the first place?”

“We hope there could be some kind of agreement made, but when he attacked Mr. Rumlow and ultimately killed him, we knew we had to change tactics. You’re our goal now. Without you, there is no sale.”

I stand my ground. “Let me talk to Steve.”

He huffs, annoyed that I’m coming back to this request. “Fine. Jasper, take her to see him, but be quick. We have a flight to catch in an hour.”

Flight? My heart pounds in my chest and my legs feel like jello as I march down the hallway of my father’s house. Since I didn’t grow up here, I don’t know my way around. We stop outside a room and he pushes the door open. Steve is tied down to a chair with a gag in his mouth. I try to move toward him and Jasper tightens his grip. “That’s far enough.”

“Steve, it’s going to be alright. Don’t do anything stupid and tell Bucky the same.” He gives me a slow nod of understand. “Bucky has been shot in the leg.” Again, he nods. “Good. I’m really sorry, but she’s going to help.” His eyes widen a fraction, and he understands what I mean.

“What do you mean, she?” Jasper asks.

“Nothing.” I spit at him.

“Who the fuck have you been in contact with?”

Your worst nightmare. “You took my phone, how could I be in contact with anyone?” You better be as good as you say you are, Nat. I need you to get us out of this.

The door slams shut and Jasper is dragging me back into the living room. “I think she might have called someone. Check her phone.”

Alexander holds my phone to my face and it unlocks with ease. He checks recent contact and messages but comes up short. “There’s nothing here since two days ago. Who did you call?”

“No one, clearly.”

He slaps me across the face. The sting burns down my throat and I hold back the tears that want to fall. “Let’s go. The plane to Thailand leaves in an hour, and I’m sure she’ll fetch a pretty penny. Send someone in to take care of James and Steve. I don’t want anything pinned to us. Make it look like an accident.”

I’m dragged out of the house and shoved into a car kicking and screaming. I only stop when they cover my head with a bag and press the cold steel of a gun to my head. When I get out of this, dad is going to pay with his life.  

Next Chapter

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#bucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #james bucky barnes #captain america au #winter soldier #bucky barnes #bucky #bucky drabble #bucky imagine

[randomfandomimagine]

Smart (Jake x Reader)

Character: Jake Peralta

Fandom: Brooklyn Nine-Nine

Categories: Reader Insert, GenderNeutral!Reader, Santiago!Reader, Sibling!Reader

Title: Smart

  Requested by @panda-duuu:

Hi there! How are you? I was wondering if I could request Jake Peralta x Reader where the reader works i as a forensic (kinda csi) and is working on a case with the 99 and maybe related to someone from the precinct, so they already know the reader, and gets in trouble, like kidnapped or something, but can get away since they're trained on escaping situation and then major fluff

 A/N: I tried to write this one a little more like case, I hope it worked and that you all enjoy it :D

WARNING: Kidnapping and slight violence! 

I went up to visit Amy at the 99, and on the way say hello to everyone, they were all really nice. Even if, apart from my sister, I was especially excited to have one of our playful conversations with Jake. That nerd’s presence was so exhilarating and he always managed to put a smile on my face no matter how crappy my day was.

As soon as the elevator doors opened and I entered the bullpen, I felt at home. Sure, I was from forensics and not an actual cop like them, but they were all so friendly that they made me feel like family. Even if one of them was actually my family.

“Y/N is here!” Scully exclaimed when he saw me, warning everyone of my presence.

“Hi, Y/N” Hitchcock said too, so I waved at him.

“Y/N!” Amy was the first one to come to me and hug me. “What are you doing here?”

“Hi, sis” I hugged her back. “I just wanted to come by and say hi”

“That’s so sweet of you!” She smiled at me, and as I smiled back and was about to talk again, someone interrupted me.

“Y/N?” I turned around to Terry as he came from the Captain’s office and sat back down on his desk.

“Hello, sergeant!”

“Hi, sorry to interrupt” Unlike his usual friendly expression, he bore a grave one now. “Captain said your team called, the medical examiner identified the body as a Victor Richardson”

“Richardson?” I exchanged a quick glance with my sister. “Why is that name familiar?”

“I don’t know, maybe you wanna take a look at the file” He picked it up from his table and offered it to me.

“Thank you, sergeant” I took it and quickly examined it, trying to find some answers.

I quietly leaned against the outside wall of the break room and read through the file, reading every single world on it with the utmost attention.

“Hey, Ames” I called my sister as I positioned myself next to her and showed her the contents of the file. “You aren’t working the case of the B&E, are you?”

“The homicide? No, that’s Terry and-“

“Whatcha doing?”

We turned around to a certain familiar goofy face that was trying to read the file over our shoulders.

“Hello to you too, Peralta” I greeted him with a snicker.

“Hi, Y/N, you look great today” To tease me, Jake ruffled my hair. “Whatcha doing?”

“The results of the M.E. arrived” I sighed with a resigned sigh, knowing he would insist until we told him. “The suspect has been identified with the autopsy”

“O-kay” He said in a sing-song voice, snatching the file from my hands and reading it. I didn’t mind, my mind was far off from there at the moment.

“Richardson…” The answer was at the tip of my tongue.

“So that’s it, case solved” With my level of concentration, Jake’s voice sounded distant. “We just gotta find that guy and arrest him, we have enough proof”

“Wait!” I finally said, grabbing the report again and scanning it. “Richardson, that’s where I know him from!”

“What’s that?”

“A murder weapon a week ago, I ran the tests and the results gave me the fingerprints of a Victor Richardson”

“So it’s not the first time he strikes, is it?”

“No, and it’s the same MO” I turned the pages on the file to demonstrate. “Always with a knife, always with a stab on the back. He never leaves any evidence other than fingerprints, except that time he dropped the knife”

“Noice, Y/N!” Jake held his hand up and I gladly high-fived him. “I’ll work on it”

“Noice?” I teased him, knowing how often he did that.

“Yeah, smort” He grinned, kindly patting my back.

“Um, it’s smart” I corrected him, only to mess with him.

“C’mon, Y/N!” Jake pouted at me. “Say ‘smort’ for me?”

“No, I told you, Peralta. You will never hear me say that”

“Fine…”

“You sure you got this, you don’t need any help?” Amy and I followed him to his desk.

“Yup” His fingers quickly typed on the keyboard. “There he is, he’s in the database”

“Well, I guess that’s beyond my field of expertise” I watched my sister when I realized she was frowning at me. “What? I’m a forensic scientist, not a detective”

“You almost were, remember?” Amy arched an eyebrow, examining my expression.

“Wait, you almost were?” That gathered Jake’s attention back on us.

“Yeah…” I sighed, deciding to tell him knowing how insistent and annoying he could be. “I trained for a long time but in the end I went to forensics”

One of the reasons was precisely because of Amy. We were very competitive and I didn’t want our careers to turn into a giant competition between us. Besides, I was interested in forensics after all. It was only after meeting everyone in the 99 and hearing about Jake’s stories that I began wondering if I chose wrong. I was far away from the action, from the epic chases and all the cool stuff.

“So who’s the smart one then?” Jake suddenly asked us.

“What?” Amy replied, voicing my own astonishment at the question.

“Y/N never became a cop so we can never know which one of you is the smartest”

“Watch it, Peralta” I said, jokingly glaring at him. Then I waved goodbye at my sister and headed back for the elevator.

“It’s you, isn’t it, Y/N?” Jake exclaimed, making me grin in spite of myself, even if I was facing my back to them.

“I’m the smart one!” Replied Amy, and I heard him chuckling because he had successfully messed with my sister.

*

As I headed back home, I was quite literally questioning my life choices. What would have happened if I tried to make it as a cop? Would I have been in the 99 with my sister and with Jake and Terry and all those amazing people? Would I have been any good with all the detective work and the action? I would never know.

I got startled when I bumped into someone. It was quite late at night and I was a little jumpy, but it was just a random bystander. He must have been just out of work or something, because he seemed groggy and looked like a zombie.

“Watch were you’re going” I told him over my shoulder, not stopping. But then my heart skipped a beat at the sight of a hazily familiar face.

I quickly hid behind a corner and pulled out my phone. I absently dialed as my eyes focused on the burly figure, not wanting to lose sight of him.

“Peralta” Soon came his answer, even if his voice sounded a little tired.

“Hey, Jake” I whispered, trying not to be heard even if he was too far to hear me.

“Y/N? Why are you calling so late, is everything alright?”

“Yeah, yeah, don’t worry”

“Why are you whispering?”

“I’m after your suspect”

“My suspect?”

“Yes, from the murder case, Richardson?” My eyes followed him as he crossed the street. He might not be the brightest, because he wasn’t the most inconspicuous, he was obviously up to no good. Besides, his MO betrayed him as a big brute with little subtlety. “I ran into him and I’m waiting for him to do something incriminatory”

“I appreciate that, Y/N, but you’re not a cop” Jake said, sounding surprisingly serious for the first time since I knew him. He was always goofing around when I saw him during my brief visits at the 99.

“So? I got a lead”

“So that’s dangerous, and if something happens to you because of me, your sister will kill me”

“Amy is not the boss of me, no matter how bossy she is”

Jake sighed, knowing us Santiagos were a little pigheaded.

I suppressed a gasp when Richardson looked my direction, but I quickly took cover and hid from his sight. I was pretty sure he hadn’t seen me.

“Are you home?” I asked Jake, hoping Amy wasn’t listening to his conversation.

“No, I’m still at work”

“Look, don’t tell Amy, okay? I got this”

“Okay, but you should get out of there. Thanks for the tip, we’ll investigate that area” Jake’s tone was patient yet cautious. “Where are you?”

“I’m-“ I gasped when I felt something against the back of my head, and a sinking feeling grew in my stomach when I realized what it was.

“Y/N?” Jake asked me, even if the phone was taken away from me. “Y/N?!”

I didn’t know when he noticed I was there. How much he knew about me. How interested he was on keeping me alive. But I took my chances even with a gun to my head.

“I’m on 10th with-“ But before I could finish my sentence, everything turned black.

*

I squeezed my eyelids tight, trying to get over the throbbing headache beating in my temple. I slowly opened my eyes and jumped at the sight of someone unwanted.

“So you’re a cop, huh?” Was his greeting. At least he had kept me alive, maybe to question me and find out how much I knew. Or to torture me.

“Technically not” I said to try and buy myself some time, because I figured that as soon as I told him what he wanted to know, I would stop being useful.

I analyzed my surroundings to grow aware of my situation. I was in some sort of warehouse, lying on the ground. My wrists were stuck together with duct tape behind my back, just like my ankles were tied together. There was no bursting out of there on my own.

“Who are you?” He asked me, and his piercing stare was intimidating, and his eyes were dark and fierce.

“No one of importance” I half-questioned, gulping violently.

He glared at me, and I had the nasty realization that I was going to die. I wouldn’t be able to say goodbye to Amy, to thank her for being such an amazing sister, person and inspiration for me. I would never see my family again, nor anyone from the 99. I thought back to Jake, nearly relaxing when I pictured his sweet brown eyes and his cute goofy smile. I… liked him. It took me a death threatening situation to finally realize I had a huge crush on Jake! And I couldn’t even act on it!

“You have new messages, from someone called Jake” I gasped when he held up my phone, which he obviously took when I was unconscious, and began reading them out loud. “There’s a lot: ‘Y/N, where are you?’, ‘Answer your phone’, ‘Amy says you didn’t get home last night’, ‘Please tell me you’re okay’, ‘This isn’t funny anymore’, blah blah blah”

“Y-Yeah” I nodded energetically, fidgeting as I tried to sit up, which was hard with my hands tied behind my back. “Jake and Amy are coming after me, and they’re the best detectives in New York, they’ll find me and arrest you”

“Detectives” He repeated, looking at the phone. “Peralta and Santiago?”

It felt like it wasn’t the first time he heard about them, and I wondered if they had dealt with him before. Not that they had mention anything, but then again, they went through a lot of cases those last eight years.

However, I held my breath when I realized I had given him some precious information. Now he knew they were after him, and who they were. Stupid! I had definitely gone through basic training to prepare for situations like this, but unlike my friends, I had never been put in them and I had no experience. The adrenaline was rushing through my veins and I behaved recklessly and illogically.

“Write to them” Just as I managed to finally sit up, he kneeled in front of me.

“What?” I gawked at him, shrinking away from him when he pulled out a knife.

“Write them a message” He used the knife to break the restrains in my wrist but not in my ankles. “Let them know you’re okay and safe”

I stared at him, wondering if he was actually stupid. I could just make it so they suspected of my message and realized something was wrong. It would also tell them I was alive and I could even hint at where I was. Not that I knew about that.

Richardson saved his knife and handed me back my phone. Then he stared at me as he rose to his feet, towering over me once more.

“Now!” He suddenly pulled out his gun, making me yelp as he pointed at me.

“Okay, okay!” I quickly tapped the messaging app and began typing.

“Don’t try anything” To reinforce his threat, he took the safety off his weapon.

My thumbs hovered over the keys as I thought of what to type. I needed to send an eloquent message that would alert them. I decided to send it to Jake, figuring he would check his phone more often than Amy. I took a deep breath as I typed it.

“Hey, Jacob! I’m okay, don’t worry about me, my phone just died” I said out loud as I typed, trying to make the text as intriguing as possible without having Richardson suspect it. “Btw, you were right about Amy: smort”

Richardson stared at me, unamused by the way I usually interacted with Jake.  which I took to my advantage and tapped my screen again when he wasn’t looking at my hands.

“That casual enough for you?” He didn’t reply, just kept staring as he snatched the phone frm my hands. I looked away, uncomfortable. He might not have been the brightest, but he gave such a violent and intimidating vibe.

“Okay” He turned around and walked over to a close by table. “Now I’m gonna tie you up again”

“Like hell you are” I quickly stood up and began running for the entrance.

My plans were foiled, however, when I realized my feet were still tied up and I could only hop in an attempt to escape.

“Come back here!” Richardson was gaining on me fast.

“Oh, no” I looked over my shoulder to him, he was way too close already.

Before I could even brace myself, he hit me in the back of the head.

*

Ugh, what a nightmare! I had to put an end to it, only I could save myself. I knew or… hoped, that Jake and Amy were looking for me. But what if they were too late? What if they didn’t find me?

I groaned as I came to, as my previous headache had worsened. The second blow to the head had rendered me in an uncomfortable, weak and queasy state. I forced my brain to work faster even though my thoughts were swampy and hazy.

I tensed up when I felt someone kicking me in the back, but didn’t open my eyes. All I had now was the fact that he had kept me alive. As long as he didn’t find more information from me, I would be safe. I pretended to be still unconscious while I thought of a plan, which was hard with my probable concussion.

I rummaged through my mind as I gathered what I knew so far. I didn’t know where I was, except that I was in a warehouse somewhere. I had sent Jake a suspicious message and activated my GPS when Richardson wasn’t looking, but they hadn’t found me yet.

I slowly moved my hands, realizing he had tied them back together with duct tape behind my back. Then I suddenly remembered that I always carried a knife with me and a spark of hope made my heart race.

As soon as I moved, however, my whole body complained. I strained my arms and shoulders as I tried to reach the back pocket of my jeans, there where I kept my knife. Hopefully, Richardson wasn’t bright enough to think of checking all my pockets after he found my phone.

I stopped moving when I heard footsteps. Richardson was behind me, pacing, and I had no idea what he was doing. I tried to hurry up just in case.

Trying to repress a gasp in celebration, my fingers wrapped around the knife and I pulled it out of my pocket. I thought it would be better to untie my feet first so I could run, not wanting to make the same mistake twice. So I painfully twisted my body to try and reach my ankles.

After several more seconds, the knife finally reached the tape in my ankles and tore it apart. My heart skipped a beat with the sound, but Richardson seemed too preoccupied to notice. Maybe he had somehow found out the police was on its way and he got nervous.

I took a deep breath, letting the adrenaline build up, and decided to act. My wrists were still tied together, but I didn’t want to waste any more time, I could escape even if my hands were behind my back, I just needed to run.

I jumped to my feet, unable to use my arms to gather my balance, and quickly turned to him.

“What the-?” He began, startled by my sudden movements.

Before he could reach out for his gun, I kicked him as hard as I could where the sun doesn’t shine. He groaned in pain and dropped to his knees, holding there where it hurt.

“That’ll teach you, dirtbag!” I exclaimed to my surprise, still feeling the adrenaline pumping through my veins.

I then ran to the door, wondering how I was going to get it open with my hands tied behind my back. To my surprise, however, it suddenly swung open before me.

“NYPD, you’re under arrest!” I found face to face with none other than Jake Peralta… pointing a gun at my face.

“Jake!!” I exclaimed, trying to hold my hands up in defense as an instinct even if they were still tied.

As I jumped up by his sudden outburst, I lost balance and was unable to regain it, not used to being unable to move my arms.

“Y/N!” Jake said, immediately lowering his gun and extending his arms to catch me when I stumbled forward.

“Jake, Richardson!” I warned him, accommodating against his torso. “He’s right behind me!”

“Terry!” Jake shouted, firmly wrapping my frame and moving me out of the way.

He took me with him as he stepped away, just in time to let the police squad burst into the warehouse, with Terry at the head of the operation. I noticed there were two police cars not far from us. The sirens were turned off, but I assumed they wanted to be sneaky not to alarm Richardson taking in consideration I was his hostage.

“Jake, you’re here…” I whispered, starting to feel exhausted as the adrenaline began wearing off. Not that he was there, I knew I was safe.

“Y/N, oh my god…” He whispered back, quickly turning me around and tearing the tape off my wrists. “You’re alive…”

Before I could say anything else, Jake had attracted me towards his torso again and was hugging me tight. I feebly leaned my weight against him, feeling extremely tired and woozy.

“Are you okay?” He gravely asked me, putting his hands on my arms and gently breaking the hug to take a good look at me.

“I think so” I winced when my temples began throbbing. “But I have a killer headache”

“Did he knock you out?” Jake frowned, his brown eyes dripping with concern. “That bastard”

I just nodded as my strengths slowly left me. I was honestly surprised that I was able to attempt my escape, but I blamed it on the adrenaline.

“How did you find me?” I gladly let Jake wrap an arm around me just in case.

“Well, we tracked your phone, and luckily your GPS was on –good job with that –and followed you here since he was stupid enough to keep your phone”

It was my first proper case as a ‘cop’, and even though I had kept myself alive, I had lucked out. If Richardson hadn’t been sloppy and were a criminal mastermind instead, I may not have lived to tell the deed.

“You knew I was in trouble, I knew you’d know”

“You said ‘smort’ and I knew it was a code”

I stupidly chuckled, feeling my eyelids growing heavier. I leaned my side against him just to alleviate my exhaustion, not making my body support its entire weight.

“Not the fact that I called you ‘Jacob’ or admitted my sister is smarter than me?” I asked him, patting his shoulder.  

“Yup, that too” He kindly rubbed my arm.

Oh, Jake, I was really hoping he would find me. I had managed to get away, but I couldn’t be sure that Richardson wouldn’t have gotten me again. My hands had been literally tied and since he hit me in the head twice I wasn’t in the best condition.

But Jake… his presence reminded me of how much I thought about him. How I wished I would live through that to tell him how I really felt. To see him again and hug him and kiss him.

“Jake” I called him, carefully pushing myself off him to say what I had to say. “I kept thinking about you and how I never told you how I actually feel and…”

“I… didn’t get anything of what you just said, you’re slurring too much” Jake stared at me, even if a slight grin tugged at the corner of his lips. “I think you have a mild concussion”

“Makes sense” I sighed, not really knowing if what I was about to do was a good idea. “This is what I mean”

I put my hands against his face and pulled him closer to me until our lips touched. It was a brief and gentle kiss, but I hoped it delivered the message that my words failed to send him.

“Oh” Jake muttered, resting his hands on my waist. “I get it now”

“That’s it, I just wanted to say that” Exhausted, I bowed my head down so my forehead rested against his shoulder. Still wrapping an arm around my back, Jake kindly caressed the back of my head.

“Y/N, I-“

“You don’t have to say anything, Jake… Besides, I don’t think I’m good to talk. I just needed to let you know”

“Okay”

When I looked up at him, he was smiling down at me. As I shoved my face on his chest, he sighed and wrapped his arms around me like he had done before, softly squeezing me against him.

“Your sister’s gonna kill me” He broke the silence, absently playing with my hair.

“Oh my god, Amy!” I urgently looked up at him. “Where is she?! Is she okay?!”

“Don’t worry, she’s fine” He held a hand up to calm me down. “She’s looking for you, but she’s okay, she’s just gonna be mad at me”

I heaved a sigh of relief, even if I knew she would definitely lecture me when she saw me again. After all, I had been reckless and stupid when I was unexperienced.

“In her defense, you were the one that filled my head with that stupid action nonsense” I tiredly replied, treasuring that moment of tranquil, I really needed his comfort.

“Guess you’re right” He chuckled, his hands gently rubbing my back.

“Jake?” I reached out to hold on to his shoulders.

“Yeah?”

“My knees are giving in”

“Okay, time to get you to the paramedics”

Jake scooped me up in his arms and carried me to the ambulance. The paramedics immediately knew I was the victim and opened the doors so he could sit me in the back. There, Jake stayed by my side without me having to ask him to. He also took my hand in his and didn’t let go, just as he never stopped gently smiling at me.

@c-taylor-wanna-be-a-glader, @xionroxas, @qtmeryr

#imagine #oneshot #brooklyn nine nine #brooklyn nine nine imagine #brooklyn nine nine oneshot #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn 99 imagine #brooklyn 99 oneshot #b99 #b99 imagine #b99 oneshot #jake peralta #jake peralta imagine #jake peralta oneshot #jake peralta x reader #reader insert #requested

[shall-we-imagine]

Mess me up. (Klaus GoldsteinxReader College AU)

When you start getting angsty feels way too late at night and you just need to write a random one shot..anyone? Just me? Okay

Genre: angst/suggestive/slight fluff

Summary: Klaus goes through a break up and turns to you, aka his bestfriend, for comfort.

(Second person point of view)

"It's okay, (Y/N). This is your last year. You can get through this." Having your own apartment with no roommates throughout college had its perks- one of them being moments like this when studying has practically driven you insane, and now you're just talking to yourself. Fun.

"I fucking hate information. Couldn't I have been created as a rock?" You huff, stretching as you decide to give yourself the hundredth break this past hour to go make yourself your thousandth cup of coffee today.

A knock on the door interrupts your plans, however.

You glance at the clock hanging on your wall. 2:30 AM. The fuck kinda asshole knocks on people's doors at this time in the morning? You sigh, but trudge to the door anyway.

Upon peeking through the peephole, you almost gasp at the unexpected guest. Your bestfriend might've been an asshole, but he certainly wasn't one to stay up that late. He cares about his health, or whatever.

Maybe he'd decided it was time to change his boring habit and spend time with the most fun person in his life, you of course. You chuckle at your own joke, pulling the door open.

But your smile falters at the sight before you.

"Klaus?! What's wrong with you?! What happened?!" Questions escape your lips before you could comprehend any of them. His mischievous, teasing eyes had been turned blank and glossy, redness and puffiness evident even at first glance. He appeared to have been crying, but that was something you'd believed impossible, for you've known Klaus since childhood, and you couldn't remember the last time you saw tears in his eyes.

"Can I come in?" He croaks, keeping his head low.

"Y-yeah, of course." You step aside, allowing him to shuffle into your messy living room and place himself on the couch.

"Um, it's a bit of a mess; I wasn't expecting y- not that I mind, I just- um..do you want some tea?" You finish your string of nonsense awkwardly.

"It's okay. I just wanted to see you." His eyes don't meet yours. Normally, Klaus would be scolding the living shit out of you for your 'pig lifestyle'; never would he have been okay with your living room looking like it'd just been hit by a tornado.

You nervously inch closer to him; it was almost like you were waiting for a bomb to explode at the slightest mistake. "Did something happen?"

"No, nothing; I'm just cosplaying a cloud." He rolls his eyes and looks at you directly for the first time.

You laugh nervously, unnerved by the lack of humor in his statement regardless of how clearly sarcastic it was. Something is very clearly off, but you didn't know how to get him to open up.

"Are you gonna keep standing there like that? Could you just sit down?"

"Oh, um.." Suddenly aware of how awkward you look, you fumble to sit next to him on the couch.

After what felt like an eternity of awkward silence, you'd had enough of how hot your face was getting, but you weren't sure if you were supposed to ask again about what happened, so you do what everyone hates but resorts to anyway: small talk. "So..how much studying left do you have?"

"What makes you think I have any studying left? I'm already done." It was honestly hard to try to talk normally when he looked like he had a permanent pout etched into his face. You couldn't see him for the stuck up, demanding nerd he normally is.

"Klaus, seriously, what is it?"

"What is what?"

"You know what I'm talking about."

"I-" He seemed to have been about to continue the argument but pauses, eyebrows furrowed and eyes glued to the floor (or rather the books and papers covering the entire floor). "I don't know if I'll be able to talk about it." He sighs.

You rub your eyes with your palms in frustration and exhaustion. "Forget the tea; I'm getting the vodka." You push yourself off the couch and head to the kitchen, returning with a large bottle and two glasses filled with ice.

"Drink till you spill....information not vodka; this shit's expensive." You clink your glasses together, downing the clear liquid in one go.

You both cringe a little at the flavour before you pour more for each of you. After that second round is when his majesty had finally started speaking.

"So, you know how I'd told you I'd propose to Mila, right? I was even looking for a ring and all, right?" He stares at his third glass like he was reading his words off of it.

"Yeah?" You already knew of his girlfriend; you weren't very fond of her, but if Klaus likes her, that's the whole point, isn't it? Okay, you weren't that understanding at first, mostly because you'd started developing feelings for Klaus at around the end of middle school, but after he and Mila started dating in their first year of college, you'd given up on it and decided to remain friends with him instead, and slowly you'd felt your feelings for him fade away, helping you become more supportive of his relationship.

However, his next statement makes you wanna throw all that support out the window.

"Well, I went to visit her dorm a few hours ago." He pours himself a fourth glass, downing it before uttering any more information.

He sighs. "She was giving some dude a head." He chuckles humorlessly. "I'd suspected she was cheating, but what I didn't expect was for her to try and play it off like she had the right to- like I deserved it somehow." He slams his glass on the coffee table and reaches for the bottle, only for you to pull it away.

"What are you doing?" He grumbles, the effect of the alcohol evident in the slurring of his speech.

"Enough. I know you're upset, but it's too much; it's strong; I've only had two glasses, and I'm already struggling..you've had four!"

"I'm not telling you the rest if you don't hand it over!" He crosses his arms childishly.

You hesitate.

"Only one more, okay?" Your shakily hand him the bottle, which he gladly grabs to pour his fifth drink.

"So, what does she do? She tells me I'm bossy?! That all I ever do is control her life?!" He laughs in disbelief, "She says if I hadn't been such a pain in the ass, maybe she wouldn't have gone for another man." His laugh turns into shaky, desperate sobs. "Am I really that bad?" You doubted the question, like the rest of his speech, was even aimed at you; it was like he was only babbling and ranting to himself.

But it's not like you were gonna let him wallow in self-pity. "No, Klaus, it's her loss; don't say that-"

"She said at first I seemed perfect: rich, handsome, smart, but up close, I'm absolutely disgusting, and," he pauses, letting himself calm down slightly, which didn't even help because he still kept sobbing harshly, "and that she tried to hold on for the money, but even that couldn't prevent her other temptations."

It was absolutely ridiculous- so ridiculous, it pissed you off.

You pull the blond into your embrace, allowing him to sink into your warmth and let his tears roll freely. "Klaus, you're the biggest sweetheart I'd ever met; yeah, sure, you enjoy sarcasm more than chocolate or sex, but that doesn't make you a horrible person." Your flawed method of comforting earns laughter from the male in your arms.

"See? Who wouldn't kill for such an adorable laugh? Come on." You preach.

Gleaming purple eyes, still tainted red, stare back at you in disbelief, "Going a little too far, aren't you?"

"I'm re-inflating your huge ass ego, is it not working? I should get paid for this." You state in certainty.

"You're an idiot." He pulls himself away from you. You couldn't help the grin forming on your lips; the way his smile contradicted the trace of tears on his pink cheeks and red nose, the way his eyes glimmered in happiness though holding remnants of sadness, it all did wonders to your heart. It was a living, breathing proof that anything she breaks, you can fix- even if at your own pace.

And suddenly you begin to doubt if your feelings for that rude blond ever really went away.

"(Y/N)?" He snaps you back to the present. Has his face been always this close to yours?

"Hmm?" You attempt to shift away from him, but before you can really move away, his lips swollen, pink lips press onto yours softly.

Your eyes widen in shock, hands immediately flying to his chest and pushing him away. "Klaus?!"

"You like me, don't you?" His eyes bore into yours, forcing you to melt under his manipulating gaze. He looks like a kicked puppy, but somehow he'd managed to gain the upper hand, leaving you red and hot with embarrassment and surprise.

"Wha..what are you talking about?" You move back, creating distance between you two, but he just moves closer to you.

"I like you too; how did I never notice my attraction to you?" He sloppily traces your jawline with kisses.

You find it in you to push him away once again, trying your best to ignore your heart pounding in your chest. "Klaus, you reek of alcohol; you don't know what you're doing. Just stop."

He doesn't respond, his lips meeting yours in a heated kiss, one you were unable to pull away from. Butterflies were going crazy in your stomach, matching the speedy rate your heartbeats were going at.

The taste of vodka conquered the kiss, reminding you every passing second that he doesn't mean what he's doing and that it'll be awkward in the morning and maybe for the rest of your life, but maybe this is your only chance to feel loved by him, maybe you too wanted to forget about the future for a second and get lost in the heat of the moment.

So you do.

Therefore, when he begins reaching for your shirt, sure enough, you let him. And faster than you would've imagined, your clothes piled up on the floor with the books you'd abandoned since that idiot has stepped foot into your apartment.

"You're too good to me." Lips pressed to your neck, he mumbles, his right hand caressing your bare hip and side while he uses the other for support. He bites lightly on the soft skin, making you yelp at the sudden sharp pain, but it doesn't last. He licks and sucks on the skin, etching his markings onto your neck and collarbones.

×××

Perhaps an old, hard couch wasn't the perfect place for your sexy time with your crush, but then again were you even thinking at all last night?

Certainly not.

You shamefully collect your clothes off the floor, quickly noticing the fact that Klaus's were no longer there.

"Klaus?" You call out, earning no reply.

Before you give yourself a chance to actually look around for him, a paper on your coffee table catches your attention.

"It was a mistake. I'm sorry.

Please ignore last night I wasn't myself.

Klaus xx"

"Ignore it?" You chuckle sadly, "You fucking dick."

You pour your third glass.

~~(A/N): it's currently 7 am so idk if this is terrible and I'll regret it when I wake up or not but I'm posting it anyway 😂 Also I feel like this blog is becoming don't get Klaus drunk unless you want to get into his pants then sure go ahead! Idk 😂😂 but anyway if y'all want a part 2 for this tell me lol

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