#*just to clarify i just came up with 'bob' for something to write here. Bob is not the actual name the person uses | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

misterewrites · 1 year

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Hope’s Meadow (Inc) *Mirror’s Edge*

I LIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE! hiya everyone E here! still kicking and alive.

So this chapter is exceedingly late. I got busy during December and honestly a lot of people who i don't normally see came by to visit and such. I did write actually but those were personal gifts to my friends involving their own ocs and worlds and all that jazz and I didn't feel right posting them because they're not mine. So yeah i was writing i promise I just can't share them. But I'm here now.

I get it. It's a lot right now and I want you to know it's okay. It'll be okay. Even if it doesn't feel that way. Just take it a step at a time, have fun when you can and enjoy the little things. Step away and lose yourself in a story. Doesn't have to be mine but I would appreciate it. haha be safe, take care of yourself and your loved ones. Wear a mask. I know. I know but it's still a thing and we still need to take care of each other. Get vaccinated if you can. Push for it worldwide cuz we're all in this together (feel free to sing this bit) and hey, I'm proud of you. We made it this far! let's see how far we can go. Happy New Year 2023! :)

That's it for me! Be safe, have a great week. I am gonna try to update this within a week, two weeks and be more consistent on that. If you are enjoying this, thank you for your time. feel free to recommend this to anyone, leave a comment, reblog. I love it all! E is out, see you soon!

If you need an update what happened last time on Mirror’s Edge, here’s the last chapter ---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/106456251

Here’s the current chapter on a much more reader friendly site riiiiiight here! ---> https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/111360014

If you’re curious what all this is about here’s the story from the beginning https://archiveofourown.org/works/30599756/chapters/75486005

And if you’re in the mood for more familiar pieces of media, I got a whole a03 with legend of zelda, Arcane, Soul Eater, A Percy Jackson AU. You can find all that https://archiveofourown.org/users/MrE42/pseuds/MrE42

And for those of us departing here, have a great day!

Summary: It's time to get to work and Casey is eager to get on the trail. First stop, after breakfast of course, is to visit the local cemetery and hopefully get the information out of some spirits. In the meantime a few more lessons about the other side wouldn't hurt especially if Casey wants to survive.

-----

“So.” Casey asked eagerly as he placed their order on the table before them “Verdict?”

Yorrick shot the young man working the cash register a disinterested glance before hungrily picking up her breakfast bagel “My-something was way cuter.”

Turns out Casey was both right and wrong: This trendy fast food coffee shop HAD once upon a time been a sandwich shop. Evidently it was recently bought by A Taste Of Faire, some sort of medieval themed coffee...thing. Honestly Casey wasn’t sure what to make of it and he was too hungry to care.

Casey took his own breakfast in hand“Hope’s Meadow is around corner. We’ll finish up and head over.”

Yorrick was too enraptured by her meal to give any meaningful answer beyond a nod.

Casey chuckled before taking a bite himself.

The two ate in a surprisingly comfortable silence, a quiet that was both peaceful and oddly relaxing.

“I have a question.” Casey finally spoke after a few minutes of consuming his burrito “Do all you-know-whats look like bed sheets?”

Yorrick titled her head sideways “Youknowwhats? What’s that?”

Casey’s gaze shifted to Kal. The ghostly companion floated openly in public, his translucent form bobbing up and down in the sun.

“Umm….” He gestured with his eyes.

“The window?” Yorrick turned her head, unsure what she was looking at.

“N-no. Umm….your friend.” Casey patiently clarified.

Yorrick stared blankly at him

Casey pursued his lips, unsure how to further ask Yorrick about her ghostly friend.

“Oh!” Realization struck as Yorrick’s ghostly greens went wide “You mean Kal?” she motioned to him with her thumb.

Casey could feel his ears burn as he felt the pointedly stares of the other customers at Yorrick’s outburst.

Yorrick remained oblivious “I wouldn’t know I’ve always been able to see them as they were. They look like people to me. I guess it’s the closest concept your brain can perceive their form to be.”

Casey bristled at the idea “Wait but I know about death. I experienced it when my grandma died. I’m pretty sure I would know what a ghost looks.”

“I blame all those cartoons. Bed sheets are simpler to draw. Easier to remember.”

“But I’ve been to funerals.” Casey frowned “I’ve mourned, I’ve grieved. How can I not see ghosts?”

Yorrick chewed her food slowly “Well yeah but have you talked about death? Really come to terms with what it means to die?”

An uncomfortable tingle ran down Casey’s spine as the idea began to swirl in his thoughts. Fear and uneasy prickled at him and he struggled to keep his face indifferent.

“See?” Yorrick pointed with her half-eaten sandwich “You haven’t accepted it.”

“I….”

Yorrick interrupted “I get it. It’s not a very fun thing to talk about. The mere mention of death kills any conversation.”

There was a pause before her lips broke into a smile.

“Haha death kills any conversation.”

And with that the Gravekeeper of Souls descended into a fit of giggles.

Casey opened his mouth to speak but no words came out. There was a strange mixture of embarrassment and shame burning in him. He was sure she didn’t mean it like that but he felt somehow she was making fun of him, laughing at a joke only she understood.

“Oh that was so lame.” she wiped a tear from her eye.

“Yorrick…”

She stopped and eyed Casey carefully.

“Oh I’m sorry.” Yorrick sheepishly smiled “I didn’t mean to make you so uncomfortable. It was a funny joke! To me at least.”

Casey gave a strained smile “Oh it was. I was just wondering.”

“About?”

“What you said before the joke.”

“What I said.” She tapped her chin thoughtfully “What I said. Before the. Oh! About your inability to see ghosts and how that ties in with your lack of acceptance about dying.”

Conspiratorial whispers from the customers but Casey did his best to ignore it.

Yorrick straightened up “It’s a normal thing. Nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I’m not.” Casey began but Yorrick clicked her tongue in disagreement.

“I am not making fun of you. It’s perfectly natural for you, me, anyone not to want their story to end. The unknown is the scariest fear in all existence and what’s scarier than the great unknown that awaits us all after we leave our mortal coils?”

Yorrick gave a reassuring smile “It’s okay not want to talk about the end. But that’s what I mean. I could see how awkward it made you feel, the uncomfortable thoughts that came just mentioning the word.”

Casey shifted in embarrassment.

“And I don’t think less of you for it.” Yorrick patted his shoulder “Because we’re all fighting for every extra second. And we should! Fight death tooth and nail. But with acceptance comes perception. Because spirits are entwined closely and tightly tied with death. You cannot remove one from the other.”

“So.” Casey began to realize what she meant “Because I don’t want to talk or think about it, my brain shuts out anything tied to it and that’s why I can’t see ghosts? Is that right?”

Yorrick gave a quick nod “Bueno! Estrella de oro para ti!”

“Umm excuse me?”

“Estrella.” Yorrick repeated, snapping her fingers in hopes of remembering the word “Estrella. You know. Es-tre-lla….Es-tre. Star! Gold star for you!”

“Oh okay.” Casey chuckled “I didn’t realize you knew Spanish though I’m guessing you know a lot of languages given how much you travel huh?”

Yorrick grinned proudly “Another gold star! Ghosts tend to stay stuck in their ways so to speak. And physically really. While they are capable of learning and adapting to their current…existence and settings, most just don’t and thus I need to learn how to communicate with them. Which means learning as many languages as I can.”

Casey nodded approvingly “That’s cool. Are you ready?"

Yorrick gave a salute, rising to full height with walking stick in one hand and the chain holding her tombstone in the other.

-----

Hope’s Meadow (Inc.) was the newest of the cemeteries that were inside the city proper and the only one to be blessed by a good-aligned cleric. Widow’s Weep up north was blessed by a cleric who followed the goddess of murder and Sunset Plains was covered by a cleric of chance. Casey wasn’t really sure who blessed Hope’s Meadow but he had a sneaking suspicion it was Doctor Carmichael.

Divinity and divine magic were interchangeable between the terms divine and holy. It had less to do with alignment or morals and more tapping into the positive or negative force of the gods. Every single paladin and cleric of any god could call upon the power and magic of their deity and have it considered divine. Casey was just as capable as any evil aligned cleric of drawing upon negative energy to harm others as a cleric of death was to draw up positive energy to heal or help others.

Honestly the only difference between the various paladins and clerics is the tenets of their god, a guideline to further their deities influence and power in this plane of reality. As a cleric of the Hearth, Casey believed in tending to the home, protecting others and caring for them as if they were family. There were many ways to act in the gods will but it was still a pretty rigid path. A goddess of murder tended to want murder done in her name, whether innocent or guilt-ridden blood did not matter to her. Casey’s god believed in devoting one’s self to others.

There were many benefits of course especially the free spellcasting. Clerics and Paladins didn’t know magic, not really. Instead their god of choice would guide their hand, providing them with the proper gestures and words to speak their magic into the world. No shortcuting powerful spells though. One still needed magical muscle to perform the higher levels of magic and the only way to build it up was to cast, cast, cast.

Blessing cemeteries was much about safety as it was a civic duty. Hallowed, blessed grounds prevent fae from entering and turning the place into their own personal playground. Shockingly, fae were pretty irreverent about everything.

It also prevented necromancers from raising an army of skeletons and zombies, a favorite pastime of theirs.

Most importantly, however, was the preservation of souls. Spirits were very valuable in all forms but especially in many dark spells. Blessing the ground not only prevents unsavory forces and creatures from wandering in but also offered a safe haven for any wayward spiritual beings. Even evil gods and goddesses agree that it would not be good for anyone if spirits were used to fuel terrible, dangerous unnatural magic.

It was still early so very few people were out and about here. Casey wasn’t exactly sure what Yorrick was up to but he figured it was better that less prying eyes were around to see it. Finn warned him the Council still hadn’t figured out what exactly the Veil blanketed or what it did not.

Yorrick stood in the middle of the walkway, her gaze fixated seemingly on some far horizon only she could see. She took a deep breath in before tapping her finger once against the top of her rusty lantern.

There wasn’t a muted thud like Casey was expecting but rather a single chime of a bell, a beautiful sound that vibrated the air itself with an ancient power. He could feel it wash over him, sending a chill down his spine and making his hairs stand on end.

The chime faded slowly but its effect was noticeable: The air was still but cold with a thick tension that had not been there a moment before. Hushed, hurried whispers echoed all around him while a fog rolled in from nowhere. A deep instinctive fear uncoiled itself in the pit of his stomach and the sudden urge to run far away from this place began to claw at his resolve.

Yorrick was unaffected. In fact she leaned closer, head tilted to one side as if listening to someone. She nodded a few times before murmuring something in return to the whispers.

It could’ve been his imagination but for a brief moment it sounded like the fog let out a sigh of relief and thinned ever so slightly.

------

It went on like this for an hour: Yorrick listened to the whispering of the invisible force and would speak in return. Sometimes it was a quick conversation, a few words back and forth. Other times it felt more like a heated debate as Yorrick spoke with a firm edge as if scolding to a fuming child. Once Yorrick only muttered a single word and a harsh breeze would pick up out of nowhere and vanished just as quickly.

Whatever Yorrick was doing did not consistently affect the mysterious fog that surrounded them. Mostly after each discussion (or scolding) the mist dissipated a bit. A few times, to him at least, it looked like nothing had changed.

“Yorrick?” Casey gently nudged her shoulder to get her attention.

Yorrick whirled around, clearly surprised “Oh Casey! Hi there. Sorry I didn’t really explain all” she gestured to thin air “This. I’m not used to people actually coming with me to work. Or watching me work. Or staying to watch me work.”

“That’s okay.” Casey reassured her gently “I take it you’re helping spirits move on?”

“Or updating them on the current year, events.” Yorrick added in “Or offering to pass along messages to their living loved ones.”

“The one with the breeze?”

Yorrick’s face turned deadly serious “Troublemaker. Well not anymore. Did you want to go do something else? I might be a while. Major city’s cemetery tends to have a large spiritual population and I don’t want you to sit around bored out of your mind.”

“Actually as I am a cleric I was thinking I could help you with all this. It is one of my duties though admittedly.” he looked around, unsure where to look “It is a little lacking and I might have trouble helping what I can’t see.”

“Don’t worry Casey I gotcha!”

Yorrick reached into her pocket, pulling a matchbox out. She struck the matchstick against the rough grooves of the box and lit the lantern. Orange flame burned a ghostly green within the lantern and crackled with a warm heat.

The light from the lantern washed over the fog and what was once cold frigid air became people. Different people and races surrounded them in a loose circle. Some floated midair lazily. Others had their feet planted firmly on the ground as they did when they breathed. Some were chasing each other in play, waiting impatiently for their turn. Translucent, pale spirits of various ages and walks of life. Normal people no different than anyone else Casey passed by every day.

Well except the giant knight that towered over everyone.

Casey knew his eyes went wide in shock and his mouth was agape though it was hard to blame him. This spirit wasn’t like the others: It was much more solid. While the others wore differing articles of clothing from across the ages, this spirit donned full armor, a sleek white shade that gleamed as bright as the sun. It was easily 8 feet tall with a shield half its size at the ready. Firmly planted in the grass was the hilt of an impossibly massive sword that Casey couldn’t ever hope to even budge. Two pure white wings held the spirit aloft The symbol of a scale emblazoned on its chest told Casey that Doctor Carmichael did not bless this place.

“Cleric of Justice.” Casey mumbled in awe “Okay. Eden maybe?”

Yorrick carefully pushed his shoulder “System shock buddy?”

“Yeah. The spirits I was expecting but.” He pointed to the massive armored spirit “Should’ve expected an angel and an archangel no less.”

“The gods do not mess when it comes to the spiritual world.” Yorrick stated matter of fact.

Casey took a deep breath in “Well we’re still alive. That’s good. C-can I get to work?”

Yorrick said nothing. Instead she gestured to the still shell shocked cleric and proceeded to speak with the next spirit in line.

A young man floated up to Casey and waited patiently. Upon realizing this, Casey shook focused on the task at hand.

“Y-yes?” Casey asked shakily, trying to ignore the massive archangel hovering overhead “How can I help you?”

"Hola senor! Mi nombre es…”

“Yorrrrrick! A little help!”

-----

One “English only” sign and a few hours later, Casey felt accomplished despite the fact he was unsure either of them had gotten any information about the crisis at hand.

He listened to the spirits, their questions and concerns. Their hopes and fears. Regrets and dreams long since passed. He offered comfort to them and prayed to the Hearth for them. Even cast the odd simple spell from time to time, a small blessing. He wasn’t very good at it if he was being honest but the spirits at the very least seemed to appreciate his efforts.

Some vanished just as they had done with Yorrick. The Gravekeeper explained that these spirits had chosen to move on with the next stage of their existence but could return if called. Some stayed, relived at Casey’s words but only floating off to wander the cemetery. Yorrick told him these spirits usually still had some sort of business left here, often waiting for their loved ones so they could move on together though some just liked Earth too much to leave. Still, informing them of current events was a good way to keep them calm and not lashing out in confusion.

He didn’t get any troublemakers thankfully though it seemed Yorrick did. She was ontop of it though, banishing the spirits with a single word before moving onto the next waiting in the wings. During their break Yorrick informed him that she simply forced them to move on. Unlike choosing to move on, however, it wasn’t permanent and they could easily return though it was difficult for any spirit. She did mention she could’ve made it a permanent eviction with the proper spells and rituals but these were normal people’s spirits and those extreme measures were saved for extreme cases.

Casey was curious on how exactly spirits were called back to this reality but luckily a family had saved Yorrick from explaining it.

It was a mother and her adult son visiting their father and husband. They brought him flowers and spent a few minutes cleaning his plaque. Casey wasn’t sure when he appeared but he did: an older fellow, translucent and ghostly like the others. They spoke of news and changes in their life with tears and grief in their eyes and while they couldn’t see him, he heard them. The old ghost cheered when told of good news and groaned at misfortune. He held them tight when the bad times came up and beamed with pride at their accomplishments. Perhaps some part of them could feel him because while they grieved, they felt more at peace. They hoped he was well and promised to visit soon. They left and so did the old ghost.

“Love.” Yorrick smiled softly at the family.

Casey smiled “Too powerful a force to be bound to a single memory.”

“He still sees them by the way.” Yorrick clarified “Watches over them from the other side. Most spirits don’t usually get enough strength to affect our lives but that one. Stubborn as a bull.”

“They still remember him at home.” Casey added in, piecing everything together “Their love keeps his memory alive.”

“And that allows him to watch over them. Even visit them there too.” Yorrick finished

Casey nodded in agreement but fell into silent contemplation.

There were still quite a few spirits wandering around but those were ones who had chosen to stay for the time being. It was nice and quiet, a peaceful calm filled the cemetery.

Casey decided to bite the bullet “Any leads on our end of the world event?”

Yorrick remained silent, her eyes searching for someone in particular but not finding them.

Casey was about to ask who she was looking for when he found a curious pair of eyes staring directly at him.

It was the spirit of a young boy, 6 maybe 8 years of age. It was hard to tell. There markings around his eyes and chin, messy lines and uneven patterns of tribal tattoos like the child had attempted to emulate some warrior’s markings. He had round chubby cheeks, seemingly never getting rid of his baby fat. He had a mess of black curly hair and he was an average frame for a boy his age. His bare arms had more messy tattoos running down them.

“Yorrick.” he nudged the distracted Gravekeeper “I think we got one more customer.”

Yorrick snapped her head in the direction Casey gestured, her eyes going wide with excitement as she bellowed at the top of her lungs “KAL!”

“Kal!?” Casey choked out, completely caught off guard by this revelation.

Kal did not move from his spot behind a headstone. He simply flickered out of existence and reappeared before them before Casey could even blink.

“How did he….?”

“Don’t let his appearance fool you Casey. He’s thousands of years old.”

Casey gulped upon realizing the implications of that statement.

Yorrick, completely obvious to Casey’s surprise, turned to her ghostly partner “Kal, what did you find out?”

Kal said nothing.

“The museum?” Yorrick tilted her head curiously “Are you sure?”

More silence.

Yorrick pursed her lips thoughtfully “Well that will be tricky but we’ve worked with worse!” She leapt to her feet, hoisting the tombstone onto her back with little effort “Come on Casey! We’re robbing museum!”

“That’s nice.” Casey groaned, struggling to resist the syrupy urge to sit back down “You know if Kal is thousands of years old, he must be insanely...wait. Did you say rob a museum?”

“Yep! Hurry up we’re burning daylight!”

And with a mad sprint, Yorrick waved goodbye to the spirits as she raced outside the cemetery gates.

Casey suddenly felt his legs turn to jelly.

“Sure. Just rob a museum. No pressure.” He mumbled to himself as he uneasily wobbled after Yorrick.

#Mirror's Edge #my Work #Original Work #original story

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dinosaurtsukki · 3 years

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⸺𝓉𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓀 27: i should be over all the butterflies (finale)

i should be over all the butterflies | a chuuya x gn!reader smau

a/n: wow, so here's another smau coming to a close. this ended up being much longer than i thought it would be but it was entertaining to write until the very end. i hope you guys like the final chapter and please let me know what you think of it !!

also, i'm sure some of you have been curious about the title. well, it's actually based on the song 'still into you' by paramore. when i first listened to that song i kinda imagined vocalist!chuuya (it's because of the orange hair). if you like, give it a listen while reading this last chapter

ever since he first started performing with the mafia dogs, chuuya had never felt stage fright or even remotely anxious before singing onstage. he even surprised himself when he came to the realization that performing was just second-nature to him.

but god was he nervous now.

usually, he was the one who hyped up the crowd before playing but right now, chuuya busied himself with fiddling with the height of the mic stand as tachihara and dazai took on the role.

"hey everyone!" dazai yelled into the microphone. the crowd in front of the stage cheered in unison.

"you may know us as the mafia dogs," tachihara continued. "but right now, you can think of us as the newest members of the journalism club."

"yeah, we actually just sent our application forms earlier," dazai laughed, glancing sideways at chuuya with a look that expressed 'dude, your turn to say something.'

"so, uh," chuuya cleared his throat. "we're actually going to perform a new song."

the crowd cheered once again and that put a smile on his face. he scanned the people standing in the front row until his eyes landed on you. chuuya bit back a laugh at the matching mustard shirt and pants you were wearing that made it impossible for him to spot. right beside you was ranpo, in crutches but mostly leaning on oda for support.

chuuya took in a deep breath and calmed himself down. having akutagawa right next to him, who looked the happiest he's ever been as he fiddled with the buttons on his keytar, definitely helped.

"this song is actually dedicated to someone. well, two people," chuuya clarified after exchanging a look with dazai. "and, i hope our thoughts come across in this song."

chuuya nodded at dazai and akutagawa, feeling his breath swell in his chest as he began to sing.

"can't count the years in one hand that we've been together. i need the other one to hold you, make you feel, make you feel better"

the roar of the audience gave chuuya a surge of confidence and he grinned widely as he continued to sing. it was always a bit nerve-wracking performing a new song and hoping their fans would like it. after all, he and dazai just poured out their raw emotions into the lyrics and hoped for the best.

for a split-second, chuuya's eyes darted over to make you out in the front row of the crowd again. was that a grin on your face or was he just imagining things? chuuya tried not to let the anxiety grip him.

"because after all this time, i'm still into you"

but at the end of the day, chuuya knew he would "perish and die", in the words of dazai, if he never let you know how he felt.

"i should be over all the butterflies but i'm into you. and baby even on our worst nights, i'm into you."

chuuya could tell that everyone was getting into the song by the time the chorus hit. the audience was jumping up and down in unison to the beat. dazai was leaning into the microphone singing the back-up vocals. tachihara had a wide, gleeful grin on his face he played the drums. even akutagawa was bobbing his head up and down to the music.

seeing all of them getting into the song gave chuuya just a bit of courage to lock eyes with you in the crowd as he sang the next line that condense all of his feelings.

"yeah after all this time, i'm still into you."

...

as soon as the mafia dogs started playing the song, one of the first thoughts in your head was "damn, chuuya's pants look really tight" and then "damn, chuuya looks really good onstage."

you've known him practically your whole life and even though back then he demonstrated no inclination at all for being a band vocalist, it looked like chuuya was born to be one. on the one hand, you felt bad that you two weren't close for the past few years. you would have enjoyed watching their earlier band practices and showing up for his first gig or watching him brainstorm new songs.

but getting to know chuuya again, especially this side of him, wasn't so bad. he was your best friend after all. and thanks to that little introduction he made before singing the song, chuuya's intentions were now clear as day to you.

"let them wonder how we got this far 'cause i don't even need to wonder at all"

you weren't sure if he could make you out in front of the crowd all, even if your mustard ensemble, much less see the expression on your face. there were probably hundreds of students in the campus square all watching and cheering to the mafia dogs' new song. but maybe, just maybe--

and there.

chuuya unmistakably met your gaze in the crowd and you smiled broadly at him in return as he ended the first chorus.

"yeah after all this time, i'm still into you"

'jesus christ, chuuya,' you thought as you smiled to yourself. 'you could have just sent me a text.'

...

"just so we're clear... you do know the song is dedicated to you, right?" ranpo said.

"i'm not that fucking dumb," you scoffed, flicking him on the forehead. right after the talent show, the three of you gathered near a bench just outside your dorm building. the crowds were slowly starting to thin out as well.

"is it... safe to assume that," oda spoke slowly beside him. you laughed slightly at the apparent hesitancy in his voice. "the other person is... me?"

"oda, i'm proud of you," ranpo grinned, clapping him on the shoulder. as if on cue, a text notification from oda's phone rang.

"you should take that like, right now," you insisted.

"really?" oda looked between you and ranpo. "do you need help with--?"

"i'll make it up the stairs on my own," ranpo huffed. "i'm not that helpless you know."

"right," you rolled your eyes. "says the guy who--"

"uh, y/n?"

you turned around to see chuuya approaching the three of you with his hands in his pockets and his guitar in its case on his shoulder. ranpo pushed you slightly forward before hurrying back to the dorm building in his crutches. oda waved goodbye before heading off in the other direction, leaving you and chuuya.

"so."

"nice... outfit," chuuya nodded at your shirt and pants.

"well, i've always had a thing for monochrome," you laughed, placing your hands on your hips. "look at your outfit though. i mean, can you even breathe in those pants?"

"not going to lie, i almost passed out on stage," chuuya joked and the two of you laughed in unison. "so... what did you think about the song?"

"hmm," you cocked your head to the side. "i think that whoever that song is dedicated to must be very lucky."

"really? then does that mean--"

"ranpo would absolutely love to be your boyfriend. or tachihara's. or is it akutagawa?" you interrupted him. chuuya stared at you with his mouth open before you burst into laughter.

"you should have seen the look on your face!" you pointed teasingly. "like your mouth was all open and everything. i gotta say chuuya i really--"

before you could even finish your sentence, chuuya had wrapped a finger around one of the belt loops of your mustard pants, pulling you close and kissing you right on the lips. instinctively, your arms wrapped around his neck and you felt both of chuuya's hands on your waist.

"you should see the look on your face," he whispered in a low voice as soon as you two parted. the smirk on his lips was enough to make you want to cover your face with your hands.

"i hate you chuuya," you whispered back much to his amusement.

"oh yeah, it sure seemed like you do." he flicked you on the forehead for good measure before walking off, leaving you to catch up to him.

"hey, hey. how did that song go again?" you asked, skipping next to chuuya. "i should be over all the butterflies... it's pretty catchy! you're gonna sing it for me again, right?"

"i literally just sang it for you."

"aw but i want one that's just for me. please chuuya?"

"...fine. maybe tomorrow."

a/n: and that is the end of the series! what happens to the characters next is all up to you guys (i do love an open ending for my fics). let me know what you all think and thank you for reading my series!

⸺𝓉𝒶𝑔𝓁𝒾𝓈𝓉

@kiyoobi @atsumusdomain @laure-chan @goodfoodxoxoxo @guardianangelswings @kei-ya @loisuke @whootwhoot @liz-multifandom-hotel @kac-chowsballs @violentfarewll @fyoyacanruinmylifethanks @nightmare-light @miyakiyo0mi @whorefordazai @rirk-ke @cross-crye @alohablue @duhsies @alittlesimp @tetsustation @https-inarizaki @himboos @magpiemissy @hanazou @monochromaticelliot

reblogs and comments are much appreciated

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batlingsstuff · 3 years

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|| DREAM SMP HEADCANONS ||

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

hello! this is my first time doing headcanons, and i just want to clarify some things:

sadly, i won't be doing requests because i'm busy af with school and i dont want to dissapoint anyone, but you can drop some suggestions and i would think about it! it would be really nice :)

also i won't be writing romantic headcanons for minors or those who are uncomfortable with it, but i can do platonic headcanons for them! ^^

i won't be doing nsfw headcanons either, because i'm uncomfy with sexualizing real people and just writing nsfw in general :)

also, please tell me if someone is uncomfortable with fanfics and/or headcanons and i will erase that part as fast as possible, thanks for passing by! - batling

✦ means platonic

✦ characters : ranboo, tubbo, tommy, philza, techno and jschlatt

♥ means romantic

♥ characters: quackity, wilbur, nihachu, dream, george, sapnap, eret, karl, fundy and bbh

keywords:

(y/n) : your name

(n/n) : nickname

(p/p) : pizza place

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

“As he read, I fell in love the way you fall asleep: slowly, and then all at once.” – John Green

┌────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────┐

SLEEPOVERS

---

GENDER NEUTRAL

└────── ⋆⋅✦⋅⋆ ──────┘

♥ Quackity

oh boy

i just have two words for this one: pure chaos

he will punch you with a pillow if you try to sleep

and you will be MAD at this

grabbing a pillow and hitting him RIGHT IN THE FACE with all your strenght

he'll probably fake cry about it, saying that you hurt him

after a while of pillow fighting, you guys got tired and plopped into the bed, snuggling into eachother and just enyoing the comfortable silence before drifting to sleep

♥ Wilbur

you two will probably blast hamilton and scream the lyrics till the neighbours wake up and you get angry knocks at your door

and you will laugh at that, lowering the speaker's volume and telling him to lower his voice aswell to avoid your neighbours calling the police

then you'll eat snacks and talk about anything that pops into your mind, laughing at the most silly jokes

he will sing sweet songs to you, making you fall asleep to his calming voice

summary: fluff

♥ Nihachu

you and her will bake pastries at a very late hour

she REALLY enjoys baking with you bc she thinks it's a great way to spend time with you

all this girl wants is to spend her time by your side, doing particularlly anything like streaming, baking, playing games and going outside for a walk and/or shopping

once you finished baking, she will kiss your cheek multiple times. that's her way to tell you that you did a great job :)

you'll spend the rest of the night cuddling, eating your pastries and watching some random movie, commenting about how bad it is and laughing

♥ Dream

bruh

this bitch will speedrun the sleepover

is it possible to speedrun a sleepover? maybe

you'll spend the rest of the night probably playing uncharted 3: drake's deception in his old ps3

after a while, you guys got bored from uncharted and went to his pc to play amnesia: the dark descent

there are 2 options:

you will be scared as fuck and will avoid looking at the screen when you think something bad will happen or when some body will come out from a drawer

or you will be totally chill with it, laughing hard when clay pisses his pants for real when he encounters the gatherer

you named the gatherer 'bob' :)

♥ George

he'll take you to the rooftop

and pushes you so you fall to your death

i mean

he gets blankets and pillows so you can stargaze together

he'll teach you the constelations while pointing them, excited about every single one of them

"look (y/n), that's the ursa major!"

he'll have hot chocolate prepared too, so you don't get cold while stargazing

you try your best to not fall asleep on the rooftop

but eventually fail

when he notices you're asleep, he stops talking about the constellations and carries you to your bedroom, giving you a goodnight kiss and leaving you in your bed so you can have a peaceful rest

♥ Sapnap

hey mamas

i don't know what sapnap will do in a sleepover so i will just improvise B)

you will watch anime together

not any kind of anime, like that romance-comedy bullcrap

no fuck that

you will watch the classy angsty anime like madoka magica

WATCH IT IF YOU HAVEN'T ALREADY

you will fucking cry because of literally anything that happens to the characters

"(y/n) why are you crying it's just a show"

'IT'S NOT ANY SHOW SAPNAP IT'S FUCKING MADOKA MAGICA OF COURSE I'M GOING TO CRY'

the last chapter made you fucking cry harder

AUTHOR HERE I WAS CRYING SO MUCH WHEN IT ENDED

yeah you will basically watch anime with him, cry about it and he will comfort you and bring you a glass of water so you don't have a terrible headache after it

I KNOW THIS HEADCANON SUCKED I'M SO SORRY

♥ Eret

KINGG <3

you two will plan a picnic in your yard

yes your yard

he'll bring a ton of snacks and you'll buy a few drinks

you two spend the rest of the picnic talking about your future and enjoying the snacks

then, he'll make you stand up and will teach you how to dance tango

and of course you will mess everything up

and you even stomped on his feet accidentally, making him wimper

but he brushed off the pain and laughed at your concerned face

after calming down his laughter, he gave you a passionate kiss and hugged you tightly

i love eret ok

♥ Karl Jacobs

this man.

this man is the definition of sweet

you'll spend the night cuddling and making cute pet names for eachother

he will definetely give you a great back massage if you're stressed

then he'll start writing love letters full of things he adore of you

and you'll do the same for him

after that, you will share your letters and just snuggle and smile at the sweet things you guys wrote for eachother

he will deffo shower you with kisses when he finishes reading your letter, telling you that you're the nicest person on earth

and that he loves you so so much

♥ Fundy

i'm a huge fundy simp ok

he will bring his piano to your house and you guys will compose a melody together

he will let you sit on his lap while you play the piano/keyboard with him

fundy will basically teach you how to play basic piano songs

you asked him if you guys could play megalovania together

he said no :(

but still you got to play nice songs together without messing up

and when you got the hang of it, he snuggled his face in your neck and kissed you there genly

and when you got tired, he started playing very calming songs and you fell asleep in his lap, snuggling into his chest

he gently carried to your room and will sleep beside you putting a fair distance so you can have a comfortable sleep!

♥ BadBoyHalo

bbh supremacy

he will get rat ready so you can snuggle with her too :)

you guys will mainly play with rat and talk about life in general

he will call you tons of cute pet names

ofc he will call you muffin it's bbh who we're talking about

he will talk about how bad he wants to spend the rest of his life with you

after a while, he will take you to his kitchen and start making muffins together

he will guide you on how to bake 'em though

you guys had a great time making muffins and cuddling with him and rat :)

══════ ∘◦❀◦∘ ══════

✦ Ranboo

tall mf gives the best piggy back rides

when he gets to your house there is a 100% chance he will bump his head on the door frame

and there is a 100% chance you will make fun of him because of that

"(y/n) please stop laughing my head hurts :("

you'll give him some ice to put on his head while you two play minecraft on your ps4

you will bring snacks too and ask him if his head is better

"yeah, thank you (n/n)"

he will pull you in a hug so you can be comfy together while you play good ol' minecraft

because ranboo surely doesn't play anything besides fucking minecraft

stfu that video of him playing spooky's jump scare mansion doesn't exist

✦ Tubbo

SWEET BE BOYY <3

he will gift you a bee plushie

expect a lot of (FRIENDLY) hugs from him

like fundy, you guys will play piano together

you guys are most likely to prank call some random numbers AND your friends

and you accidentally called some random pizza place

"hello! this is (p/p), may i take your order?"

you were nervous and didn't know what to say

UNTIL YOU CAME UP WITH A GREAT IDEA

"hello? are you there?"

'hi yes, i would like to order 7 extra large pepperoni pizzas to (tommy's adress).'

"oh- okay! uhm- they will arrive in a few hours. are you okay with that?"

'yes ma'am, thank you.'

when you ended the call, you couldn't help but burst out laughing, knowing that tommy will be so mad at you guys-

✦ Tommy

like quackity, PURE. CHAOS.

you guys will obviously stream your sleepover

doing a q&a stream :)

tubbo and wilbur will probably crash your stream and start spamming things like 'MEETUP??' and 'DIDN'T GET AN INVITE'

you guys laughed and added them to the call

"WHY THE FUCK DIDN'T YOU GUYS INVITE ME?" wilbur shouted

'i'm sorry willlll'

you kept playing minecraft with wilbur, tubbo and quackity too since he crashed your stream like an hour later

after the stream, you got up and plopped on the mattress that was on the floor

"tired?"

'yeah'

"okay, good night big (initial)"

✦ Philza

POG

YEAHHH SLEEPOVER WITH THE MINECRAFT GOD

AND KRISTIN'S THERE TOO :)))

and oh god you ADORE kristin

i'm pretty sure she's a total sweetheart

it would be like having a sleepover with your parents

only that it's less boring

you guys will watch a movie together, you will be in one side of the couch eating snacks while phil and kristin are in the other cuddling

you'll eventually bug them about it

after the movie, you fell asleep early and philza noticed, talking to kristin about it too

and wrapped a blanket around you so that you get a good rest :)

✦ Technoblade

mr. blood god teaches you the arts of the CRAFT.

yeah i mean it's techno what else does he play besides minecraft

he will play bedwars w/ u, teaching you how to pvp

"bro you kinda suck tbh"

'stfu techno'

he will comment about how bad you are, but tries to help you get better anyways

and when you do a very poggers gamer move, he praises you

and when he praises you you're all :)))

after awhile, he gets tired from watching you play minecraft and suggest watching anime

fucking weeb

i mean

other thing you guys do together in a sleepover is playing and commenting about pokemon

if you don't like pokemon get tf out of here /J

i was joking please don't leave i respect your tastes

✦ Jschlatt

ooooh boy

get ready for a session of wii training

that's all you guys will do

play wii sports and some other shit like wii music

he will laugh his ass of if you fall while playing wii fit

but he will eventually help you bc outside his funny and shouty persona, he's a really chill guy and a really nice person!

seriously like have you ever seen a theweeklyslap video?

well expect hearing amazing pep talks from him

bc this man is a legend and knows his way to words and is very good at comforting people :)

sometimes you'll rant to him about anything that's happening in your life, and he will listen to you and give you really helpful advice

and you appreciate him so much for that

✧─── ･｡ﾟ★: *.✦ .* :★. ───✧

TYSM FOR READING GUYS, i appreciate it if you made it this far :)

i hope you guys really enjoyed these headcanons, it's my first time doing them and aa i'm a bit nervous about posting this but i'll be fine ig

also i'm sorry if there's a grammatical error, english is not my native language and i'm still learning it :) have a nice day/night, drink water and don't fuck up your sleeping schedule!!

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statticscribbles · 3 years

Text

Fight

Summary: Outsiders; what if the attack on ponyboy and Johnny went different and Steve followed them to the park and Socs didn't get to drown ponyboy or Bob dying please.

Steve's first instinct is to look for a knife and run forward. His feet feel like they’re sinking into the ground and he can’t even scream to get the Socs attention off Ponyboy. Sodapop is next to him and Steve’s not sure what’s happening but he feels a hand nudging him forward and he feels like he can finally move. He and Sodapop surround the Soc’s he can see they’re all glaring he realizes that more of the gang have come out from behind other things and he wonders where they came from but he doesn’t really care because suddenly Bob is stumbling back and Ponyboy is coughing and shoved over into Steve’s arms and Steve grimaces but doesn’t mind the damp that’s starting to seep into his clothes. Not when Johnny comments what’s happened.

“You tried to fucking drown him!”

“He was being a smart ass!”

“He’s a fucking kid!”

“We’re all fucking kids and if you assholes don’t keep your voices down the cops that patrol here are gonna come in and we’re gonna all get killed.”

“Okay fine, we’re not finished with this you Greasers.” The Soc’s glare helping Bob up from where he’d been pushed down. As they lift him up the gash on his arm is sluggishly bleeding. They pause, turning back to the greasers. SodaPop has already pulled Johnny behind him and is glaring back.

“You think of doing anything to him and I’ll gut him.” Steve knows it’s an empty threat, the Soc’s seem to not of course and they make sure to pull Bob a little faster back to the car.

“What happened?” Steve grumbles helping Ponyboy back to one of the cars.

“Johnny, you good kid?”

“Yeah.” Johnny shakes as Sodapop takes him to a different car.”Might be better to keep ‘em split up for a while, let it die down, you can take Ponyboy right?”

“Yeah, Yeah I can.” Steve finds himself responding to his friend.

“Aw crap now I have to drag you back to my shit house, least there are towels there.”

Ponyboy doesn’t speak to steve the entire way back and Steve would be freaked out if he hadn’t just watched him get half drowned.

“So, you ready to talk?”

‘There were just two girl and-” It drips from Ponyboy’s lips like when he was coughing up water and Steve sits next to him, patting him dry with the towels and occasionally hugging him as he spills what happened.

“Well it’s lucky Johnny had his knife.” Steve comments and Ponyboy shrugs a little.

“Means he can get in trouble for it.”

“Least he didn’t kill him.”

“Johnny wouldn’t kill someone.” Ponyboy snaps.

“I know he wouldn’t on purpose but imagine it just went a little bit the wrong way you know.” Steve inclines his head and Ponyboy just towels his hair for a moment.

“The knife” Steve clarifies making a slashing motion with his hand.

“I got what you meant.”

“You should try to sleep.”

“Why?”

“Listen you just got like fucking drowned. Just fucking nap and I’ll cook you something so your fucking brothers don’t kill me for letting you suffer more.”

”We need to get them both out of town.”

“Yeah but really the farm, that’s like they’re some old dogs or something.”

“Steve just go, please.”

“Fine. I’ll take them, you owe me.” Ponyboy wakes up to the end of the conversation catching only the last few exchanges.

Johnny? Where are we going?”

“Dunno Sodapop said we had to get outta town, Steve’s gonna take us to some farm.”

“Well that sounds sketchy as fuck.”

“Thank you! That’s what I said!” Steve nods towards Sodapop who looks unimpressed at the group.

“Come on Sodapop, at least come with us?”

“If we all go up it’ll be more suspicious, okay?”

“Okay.” All three of them use the same sulking tone as they slowly start to pack things from around the house.

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 3 years

Text

I wanted to get this ‘Valentine’s Day’ piece out, even though it’s massively, supremely late. 😭It’s part of a longer piece (because I couldn’t stop writing it😶) and I’m still not sure whether or not it’s not terrible.😖

prompt list

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This couldn't be right.

Damian almost did a double take, his cool smirk withering when he glanced up, transfixed by the sleek storefront at the cross streets where he stood. Why on earth would Raven be in a place like this?

The building towered above the tottering sea of gray, black and blue below. And the mannequins in the display lorded over their dominion, propped loftily on their perches, arms and legs of impractical proportions, stilted at absurd angles.

And why would she summon him here?

His trousers began to buzz audibly and the shifting crowd of passersby jostled him closer to the glass. Damian delivered the faceless caricatures of the female form a final foreboding glare, before he reached down to free the device vibrating in his pocket. New Message. Raven. Apparently, it was urgent. He tapped the speech bubble icon with a fingertip and his jaw went slack.

I Need You.

The three words seemed etched into the surface of the screen. And they were more than enough to get him to take a deep breath and grasp the curved door handle, his jaw set, and wingtips marching determinedly onward.

The atmosphere inside the store was even more unexpected than the outside. When translated, the pounding music and low lighting read as more nightclub than boutique. It was completely impractical in Damian's view—how could anyone locate a price tag, let alone see the item they were intending to purchase? Although, after a few minutes of skulking around in the dark, he could see how the implementation of such a design was advantageous. With stealthiness like his, he wasn't in danger of being accosted by overly helpful employees hungry for commissions, before he located the heading of a dramatic script that read Dressing Rooms, and turned underneath it.

Down the row each stall had a flood light stationed above it, but only one appeared to be presently occupied: the corner room at the farthest end of the hall. And as he got closer he noticed it also appeared to be the largest. Damian glanced behind him and rapped on the door with a knuckle. And just as he began to wonder if he'd needed some sort of special knock or password prepared, the lock glowed black and unlatched itself.

"I'm here." The door creaked open and the floor groaned under his solid weight. Damian turned swiftly to shut it, growing steadily concerned.

"So what is it? What's the—big emergency..." He started, but his tongue began to feel heavy and leaden inside his rapidly drying mouth. And his eardrums began to beat violently until they matched the thumping of his maddened heart.

Red.

Blood red.

Burning. Blinding. Blazing.

In the carpet, the walls, the curtains, the chandelier.

It was everywhere—even in the deafening pounding hammering away at his head.

Thundering images suspended before him, going in and out of focus. They were searing his eyes, blearing his vision. In sinful shapes marred over pale flesh, it was red repeating over and over. Criss-crossing crimson. Damian had to dig his fingernails into his palms to ground himself with the tangibility of a familiar sensation.

And suddenly he realized that all the times before were incomparable, this was what it meant to be blindsided by a breath-taking blow. This was what it meant to receive a rush of blood to the head…

…or a rush of blood to the—

"I'm glad you came so quickly."

And the silhouette of Raven turned where she sat on a velvet ottoman, leaning forward in a way that was guaranteed to diffuse away the rest of his brain's processing ability. It was all he could do not to goggle at her like some cartoon character. Tawdry and tactless. Damian inwardly cursed the merciless Goddess above as he took in the cleavage created by cups, a series of straps and bows and elastic and he didn't know what. Only that he shouldn't have been so disarmed by it—by Raven's breasts pushed up to high-heaven. Like they weren't perky enough or distracting enough in their usual sheath of simple black cotton.

His wide emerald eyes strayed downward in spite of themselves and onto shapely, stocking clad legs folded one over the other, with a lace-up heel tapping out the bass of the synth pop bleeding into the background. Raven slid to her feet seamlessly, swaying slightly to the song. She took a single step, allowing the shadows to part for her as she did so.

There was a muted click, clack, click of her heels on the carpet as she drew near. He'd never seen her in stilettos, and he stared at them through slits.

Gods, they had to be four inches at least. Their impressive height only seemed to serve to make her look even more powerful. Just about as powerful as the force rooting him to the spot.

The deep panging in Damian's chest carried on, a racehorse charging from the starting gate, galloping faster and faster, as she grew closer and closer.

Suddenly he'd become aware of the fact that it was far too warm in here for the dead of winter. Or was it simply that Raven radiated such an intense heat?

Most definitely the latter.

The garnet colored lace gracing Raven's skin was a perfect match to her chakra stone. The semi-sheer fabric of her bra offered up a playful glimpse of the darker skin of her nipples beneath. When his gaze wound down her tapering waist, it appeared that the lack of opaqueness carried over to the front of her panties. He could just make out a little shadow—a promise laying underneath a tempting, well-kept diamond shape in plum wine. And last, but certainly not least were the thigh highs trimmed by garnet lacings and affixed to a red and black garter.

Damian's throat had somehow gone even drier. He tried to swallow with great difficulty, then tugged at his turtleneck for a reprieve.

However, there would be no such alleviation for his trousers.

"There's no emergency, Damian..." Raven assured him with a tilt of her head, lilac tendrils skating across a valley between pale peaks. "You'll have to forgive me, but I had to get you here. I had to know..." She paused, folding her arms as she prepared to pose a question to him. "Tell me... what do you think...of my outfit?"

Damian froze, fingers mid-tug and blinked several times as if he'd been struck dumb.

What?

That wasn't...

There was no way...

Was that a serious request?

She was being facetious—she had to be. It was the only explanation, unless Raven was somehow messing with his mind and Damian sincerely doubted that. But how could she ask him this with such bold-faced sincerity? Even if the wooden arch behind her housed a funhouse mirror and had been reflecting distorted proportions back at her. Or was there actually some warped reality in which they weren't looking at the same picture?

Although...

If he could muster up a voice to speak he would have asked, what outfit?

Lackadaisically, she trailed a hand down her body, tugging at the cups spilled over with supple skin. "The bra—do you like the pattern?" Raven traced the gorge between the swell of her breasts. "It's tulle and...French lace," she confirmed, squeezing the scant, semi-sheer embroidery molded to her chest. And Damian grimaced as though in physical pain.

"No?" she assessed, seemingly marking off boxes on a mental checklist. Raven smoothed her hands over her hips for a moment, appearing to be lost in thought. She paced slowly, revolving a full three-hundred and sixty degrees to pause with her back to him.

"And what about..." She swept a purple curtain over the nape of her neck to glance over her shoulder and he saw—of all things—a bow below the dimples on her back, nestled into the heart-shaped curve of her ass. "My panties...?"

Damian gritted his teeth, though not before letting a sound escape, like a hiss coupled with a wince.

"Are these okay?" The soft profile of her lips pressed.

Gods, it was almost as if she were seeking to offer all of this up to him. And who needed to clarify anything when she was all wrapped up and presented? Covered in the finest cardstock wrappings in gold-flecked marble, then laced up with champagne silk ribbon to await her unravelling.

Though his own would be more likely.

Right now, he'd forsake all his names, both Wayne and Al Ghul to get her to stop. Stop slinking closer, stop speaking in that sweet, scratchy undertone, and stop directing his focus to her various attributes, more than it already was.

It would only make his growing pain more pronounced.

A pale hand dangled down and spread across a smooth, silken thigh. "My stockings, then?" Raven hummed.

Though, Damian didn't speak. He wasn't entirely certain he was still breathing. Somehow, he'd managed to remain motionless and drag his unwilling eyes toward the floor. All his carefully constructed control was necessary to keep himself calm and centered in this moment. He could do this—he had to do this. Otherwise, what was the point of all those long years of training he'd endured?

Shiny purple strands bobbed; she'd started to shake her head slowly at the stony silence from the stoic cashmere wall standing before her, as if she expected as much.

"I bet you're still wondering why I called you here." Damian heard her voice go up in the middle, which it did whenever she was apprehensive or unsure. "I wanted you here to find out what you like—exactly what you like." When he arrived, Raven was blushing a delicious pink, so by now it had to be a violent red. "I wanted to get it right because...you're the first person, or only person I've ever been intimate with in any world, dimension, or universe..." She lingered.

And once again, Damian said nothing, and she resumed speaking.

"I do know that this is something that one does traditionally." Raven paused to worry her already cherry-red bottom lip. "That couples do... Buying underwear for your significant other is supposed to be something special, particularly for this holiday."

He was a mountain, immobile, unwavering...

"Oh, I see..." Her mouth set into a line. "Perhaps, it's the fit—or is it the color...?" Raven's large amethyst eyes swept over the room and landed on her reflection. "I thought dark red was classic. I knew I shouldn't have listened to Donna. I should have gotten something in black." She dragged a distraught hand through dark purple. "It's too much...or maybe it's not enough..."

"Don't," Damian growled low. His inflection was level and gave nothing away. If Raven was surprised by the outburst, she didn't let on, instead she continued.

"I bet the old string of socialites shuffling in and out of the manor were never caught dead in skivvies that weren't Kiki de Montparnasse or at least Agent Provocateur. But this..." Raven lifted her chin toward the mirror. "It's not your taste though, is it?"

That was far more than enough.

Far more than he could stand to hear and far more than he could stand to bear.

When his eyes flew back to hers at last, they weren't steely anymore, they burned—whittling her retinas down like they were wicks on candlesticks. As if he were all but telling her he dared her to do that again, to say that again.

"It's okay. I'm glad I found out before I bought—"

"I said...don't." Damian placed his hands on her wrists and whisked her right up to his chest. And he closed his eyes. He skimmed his lips along the length of hers like it was something sacred, his mouth trembling as Raven muffled out a note denoting her surprise.

He murmured to her, "you're brilliant, deadly beautiful—an empath...and for some reason unbeknownst to me, I'm your blindspot." Damian sighed resolutely. "But Raven, can't you take pity on me? I'm still a man." One that had been barely keeping it together since he arrived, but... "And you're you, so..."

There was no way in any world, dimension, or universe that he could ever resist.

Purple eyes grew wider as he told her and lifted a finger to her chin. Then it was Damian turning the tables and tipping her mouth towards his own. And though he hungered for her, he took slow and sweet and gentle grazes. It was tortuous, but he should only have a little at a time. This was an excess of an impossibly decadent dessert, an indulgence he was undeserving of. It was like the power in his sub zero freezer had short-circuited and he had no choice but to guzzle down that buried pint of vanilla caramel gelato.

Though who could blame him for being greedy when he had all of this spread out before him? And when her ass in those panties even resembled two round, creamy spoonfuls.

To hell with it then.

Damian lunged, face forward, longing for more of her. In an instant, he was inhaling her pulse, intaking the scent of leather-bound books with aged pages and the nectar from plums she'd probably narrowly avoided dripping on them. He dipped his tongue along the hollow of her collarbone as if he sought to test this.

"Mmm, that's nice."

"Nice?" Damian scoffed, his eyes on hers. "That's not what I was going for. Surely you didn't wear this because you wanted me to be nice." At the present, he wanted nothing more than to rip the tiny pieces of lace into twos, but Raven had selected them specifically for him. So he would continue to be patient and continue to savor this.

Let the pieces of fabric hold up for as long as he could hold out.

"Wait a moment," Raven gasped, quickly clutching his arm. "So your present...?"

"Present? Tch..." Damian's lip curled under his front teeth and he let out a piercing click. "If you're seriously considering getting me a present..." His palms glided down her chest and he gathered a scoop of softness in either hand. "Then these are perfect," he whispered in her ear.

And then Damian's mouth pushed back into hers and he was kissing her in ways that would make it impossible to return this lingerie after trying it on. He nipped urgently to gain entrance to her castle, then trapped her lip between his teeth like it was a drawbridge, at last releasing her tongue to collide with his own. All the while, his thumbs were sliding over her nipples, which puckered and pointed at his touch. He pushed up the cups of her bra for better access, head inclined towards his goal, soon to be met by a full mouth.

Each brush of his lips on Raven's chest made her fingers clench further and further into his shirt like it was a life preserver, and she was in danger of losing herself to the depths.

And after all, wasn't this the answer that she'd wanted from this—that she needed from him?

A chance to lose herself.

To stand in a dressing room in his arms, moaning his name like a breathy spell, her body bending until her back was arched under the avid swipes of tongue. He tugged her nipples between his teeth and they reddened, their response a glowing rave.

Yes.

Raven's eyelids squeezed, her pink face contorting in pleasure while Damian enjoyed the full weight of her breasts in his hands. He continued polishing the plush, pink rings. Left then right—until they were glistening.

"Gods, Damian..." Raven groaned. "Just—"

Just as sudden, there was a wet noise, a slip of suction. Damian had released a rosy nipple, taking note of Raven's expression. Hungry and dazed, and all his doing. Whether unconsciously or not, she pressed her legs together, clenching them as she watched Damian slip off the left sleeve of his coat and let it crumple to the ground in a heap.

The glaze of her gaze, her diaphragm's continuous rise and fall, her fingers digging into his arm, she needed this.

So why deny her?

"Yes, these are beautiful..." He whispered as he admired his handiwork under the chandelier light. The way the red nips and bites were like Damian Wayne watermarks upon the pale flesh. "But perhaps..." Damian's hands glided freely down the small of her back, just over the hill of her ass and stroked the burgundy bow, like an X marking the spot. "This."

When Damian glanced down at Raven, she was barely biting back another mewl, and moving restlessly in his arms. "I wonder what would happen if I were to pull this bow... Raven what do you think?"

"Damian... We shouldn't..." Raven murmured, sounding somewhat apprehensive and holding the fabric at his back tightly.

"Yes, we should Raven," he rasped darkly. "Right now, I can't seem to think of a reason why not..."

"Well, there's the fact that we're in public—"

"Public," Damian repeated flatly. "What of it? The outside world ceased to exist the second I entered the door of my own little version of Narnia."

Raven's jaw had unhinged in unmasked shock and Damian supposed this was an instance to take her remaining breath away by kissing her. Yes, he'd walked through a door and suddenly he was laying eyes on his half-naked demoness dangerous in dark red. So clearly nothing else in creation mattered.

When he pulled away her lips opened and closed, while her eyes remained shut, like a thirsty traveler prematurely cut off from a longer drink. And even though it seemed her body knew the truth, a darker part of him wanted her to beg for it.

"But, that's not what I asked," he said with a hard smile that wasn't. Damian drummed a divot on her lower back. "I fear I've gotten ahead of myself again. Tell me about the bow, Raven. What happens if I pull it?" His hand jutted out, he made a motion with his fingers, in mimicry of it.

"Why ask when you know the answer?" Raven asked him, her brow rising shakily.

"I could have asked you the same earlier. But..."

"But?"

Raven bit her lip but made no motion to stop his hands from climbing onto the curve of her ass. He taunted her twice, by tugging lightly on the tulle, until at last... The bow in the back came loose, and her panties slid down her legs with ease. She secured one pale thigh tightly over the other to hide herself.

No bottoms and bra half-undone, she was nothing short of delicious.

Though that scrap of fabric had barely covered much of anything, so why bother to tease? Or hadn't that been the sole purpose of this outfit?

A devious smirk sidled onto Damian's face as he realized something: these were the exact kind of underwear that one put on simply to take off.

"I pulled the bow, Raven," he murmured almost mockingly. "Don't I at least get to see the rest of my present?"

She stared up at him through her soot colored lashes and slowly opened her thighs.

183 notes · View notes

sergeant-angels-trashcan · 3 years

Text

canNOT decide which version of “Harry Wilson actually already knows Kate Bishop, thanks anyway” i like more:

Harry was one of Derek Bishop’s attorneys and he’s actually the one who cut Kate off

variations on “Harry worked for Derek”

he calls her now that he’s a good guy to talk to her about her dad’s company, he’s thinking of seeing if Leverage will go after Derek next, and he asks her to meet up with him

at like, an abandoned warehouse or something super sketch like that

and Kate says sure, but she’s ALSO not stupid, so she calls David and asks if he’ll go with her

David Hardison says yeah, his babes are going to be in New York that week so he’ll be able to spend time with them!!

They meet in the super sketchy warehouse and Harry’s all “Hardison? What are you doing here?” and Hardison is all “why the hell are you calling my friend Kate,” and Kate’s all “David why the hell do you know my dad’s asshole lawyer”

a hiLARious misunderstanding

Harry finds out Kate is Hawkeye and he’s like. okay. okay. i need a minute. i need to find someplace to sit down. you’re saying you could have sniped me at any moment, i just, i need a minute

if this is KateQuinn then Quinn goes with her, OBVIOUSLY

and Eliot goes with Harry because Harry lets slip he’s meeting up with someone who probably doesn’t like him very much

Eliot and Quinn are both checking the perimeter and run into each other. they start fighting before they realize who they are

and then it’s lots of back slapping and “dude!”

Eliot rolls his eyes so hard when he finds out Harry is here to see Kate

if he’d been less secrety, they could have had this meeting somewhere with less water damage

harry has a lil crush on quinn

PERHAPS Kate goes to meet Harry, but this time she’s bringing her OWN lawyers, Matt and Foggy, who Harry ALSO knows

and he’s just like, fuck, fuck, i CANNOT catch a break

OR. Leverage is working an unrelated gig and Kate just happens to be at the party they are at to work the mark

Harry and Kate lock eyes and she. the look she gives him. it’s a MURDER look.

and harry’s just like shit shit shit. i think she knows i helped her dad put a hit on an avenger. how does she know.

Eliot intercepts her before she gets to Harry because Kate can legitimize the con and she’s helped them before

Kate realizing Harry is on the earbuds and straight up threatening him with murder when she’s done

MattKate version where they’re at the party and Matt can tell Harry has the earbud in and tells Kate it’s David’s team

Kate stalks up to Harry and says something to the effect of “say hi to david for me” and Eliot and Parker start freAKIng out because yay!!! kate!!!

they tell Harry what to say so Kate doesn’t deck him and ruin the con

at some point Eliot goes “i think Kate’s lawyer boyfriend is the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen”

“the BLIND LAWYER?”

“it’s a very distinctive stance!”

Harry realizes he not only helped Derek put a hit on an avenger but also his own daughter and harry has a meltdown

they’re running the info on their next job, which is bishop publishing, and Kate walks in, sees Harry, LAUNCHES herself at him, and decks him

cut to harry with a bag of frozen peas against his face while Eliot tries not to laugh

Harry put together the prenup for Derek and wife #5 and went to the wedding. He had the good fortune to sit next to Kate who was guessing how long the marriage would last and how much everything cost like “these super ugly floral arrangements could have funded the meal programs in three schools”

kate kind of hates everything, so harry asks why she even came?

she wanted to glare at her dad the whole night. just enough to make him and the bride uncomfortable

“she’s my age. that’s very ew.”

“to be fair, she’s almost thirty, once you hit thirty age differences are less--”

“i know how old she is, we graduated high school together.”

“ah, yep. ew.”

the wedding was held at an art museum or something

kate: i know someone who stole this painting once.

harry: ha. ha. ok.

somehow convinced harry to steal some champagne and go into an off limits area to play beer pong with champagne

“i didn’t go to college right after high school, this is what college is like, yeah?”

“it is absolutely not”

he says something about her inheritance and she snorts. she’s not in the will.

harry thinks he could probably write her back into it and no one would know

he’s impressed she has her own business

she’s not impressed he works for her dad

he humblebrags about his daughter

kate: u know what would piss my dad off

harry: i do not.

kate:

harry: no. absolutely no. nope.

kate: :(

they keep running into each other

kate sneaks into her dad’s new year’s eve party (she was not invited)

she’s planning on stealing some data from him. like crime data

harry has no idea she wasn’t invited, he’s just like “thank fuck someone fun”

at midnight they do the “should we?” awkward shoulder bob thing and give each other a respectful lil smooch

people start to leave and Kate has to bounce before her dad notices her

Harry of course is all “i should walk you home or to a cab, it’s late, who knows what could happen”

which to Kate is the equivalent of a puppy barking at a vacuum

anyway at some point they probably make out

and then Kate realizes Harry’s a sketchy kind of lawyer and nopes out immediately

cut to a year later, Eliot’s telling the team that Hawkeye is going to be joining them on this job for some unspecified reason

everyone is mildly insulted at how surprised Harry is that they know an Avenger

Breanna is SO EXCITE. She temped for Kate one time and they accidentally blew up some dickbag’s bitcoin mining operation because he was stealing electricity from a poor neighborhood

to clarify, FINDING the guy was an accident, the explosion was planned

Alec had given them his “i’m very disappointed” face when he found out. apparently Kate is immune to that face

but the whole point of working with kate was to not do crime so alec was all “no more temp for you”

but basically everyone knows which Hawkeye Eliot is talking about and they’re all really excited and don’t worry, Harry, Hawkeye is cool

and in comes Kate

she and Harry see each other and freeze all YOU

and of course EVERyone in that room either knows how to read people or is being trained to read people so they’re all going oH WHAT. WHAT. SOMETHING HAPPENED WITH THE TWO OF YOU OH OHHHHH

“what are you doing here, sketchy-ass lawyer man?”

“it’s mr. sketchy ass lawyer man to you, and what do you mean what am i doing here, what are you doing here?”

“so i guess you two know each other,” Eliot says

“yeah???” goes kate “he’s one of my dad’s douchebag lawyers!”

“ex douchebag lawyer.”

eventually it gets to harry going “wait, I thought hawkeye was coming?” and all of the rest of leverage going “she’s Here!” and waving in Kate’s direction

Harry is quiet for a minute and then is like “i guess that’s why you laughed at me when i offered to walk you home on new year’s”

“i didn’t MEAN to laugh”

OR Harry represented Derek against Kate

OR Harry was originally Kate’s council as part of Derek Bishop’s team of lawyers, and then when Kate realized her dad was a criminal it became Harry’s job to make her go away and stop causing a ruckus so Kate’s only reason for agreeing to help is on the off chance she gets to punch him

harry comes in to meet their newest client and is all ???? the fuck is that vapid heiress doing here, how does someone like her warrant our help

and of course kate is like, tf is that asshole doing here, mr hey-derek-let’s-hide-some-of-your-money-offshore like THAT’s not super sus

at some point he sees her and eliot sparring and harry just. bluescreens. does not compute.

he never had to deal with kate personally but stories about her are legendary, she’s the WORST kind of young money. reckless spending. drinks like the world is going to end. will snort anything.

and here she is. an actual superhero. who apparently uses partying as a cover for vigilantism. and knows how to fool a breathalyzer into thinking she’s drunk when she’s not

he feels bad for whoever her legal council is now. imagine having to deal with that.

turns out he’s her legal council now. whoops.

someone points out that they’re all sort of vigilantes

and someone--either Parker or Kate--goes, “we’re not vigilantes, we’re a vigilanTEAM”

harry has the most profound moment of “were it not for the laws of this land i would have slaughtered you where you stand” he’s ever had in his life

#leverage #leverage redemption #kate bishop #hawkeye #young avengers #harry wilson #our mr. wilson #david alleyne #alec hardison #eliot spencer #mr. quinn #obsessed with this idea

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piratewithvigor · 3 years

Text

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously.

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged.

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

#I made this instead of doing homework #Classic Rock #Meme

328 notes · View notes

cloudycrystalkpop · 3 years

Text

SMOKY | Purgatory Within

Blind! Prince! Mingi x [unstated skin deformity] fem! Reader

words: almost 2k

warnings: abuse trauma, smut, death

au: crown royal au | moodboard

series masterlist: SMOKY

you became more and more concerned for your husband’s behavior as time went on. the young man who had once been so careful and gentle, now stood with a silent rage behind his empty eyes.

however, after you confronted him about his possessive behavior, you watched him break down at your feet.

“p-please... please don’t leave me...” his large frame was once again curled in on himself, shoulders shaking as he kneeled on the floor, hands fisted in your robe. his head was hung low as he begged you at your feet.

“Mingi, what has been going on with you?” you insisted, refusing to touch the man as he tried to bury his face in your lap.

“I can't- I can't let the Duke take you! or your whore of a knight! Please my queen please, take me instead, take everything I have!” the man let out a broken sob as you sighed at his words.

“enough.” you growled, grabbing a hand full of his hair and lifting his head. he yelped in shock, neck exposed to you as his Adams apple bobbed in fear.

“you are to be a king Mingi. you are a grown man, and I am your wife. you are not a little boy to be crying at the feet of his mother.” you pushed the man off your lap and stood. “and you will be a fool of a king if you let such foolish insecurity cloud your judgment!”

Mingi hid his head low, covering his face with his arms.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry! p-please don't-” his normally deep voice cracked in terror. you stopped, anger at he man before you evaporated.

“Mingi...mingi I'm not going to hit you.” you spoke softly, gently falling to your knees on the floor. his body shook, arms still held to protect his face. “I hope you know, I would never do that.” your voice was sorrowful as you reached out a hand to his head.

he flinched when you touched his hair, but as you began to run your fingers through it, his muscles slowly relaxed. dropping his arms from his face you could finally see the puffiness around his eyes, the cloudiness of the dark pigment stared blankly back at you.

“...do you promise?” he hiccuped, turning his head to try and find the direction of your voice. you cupped the man’s cheeks, pulling his head to face yours. his eyes fluttered shut as he rested his head in your hands.

“oh my darling boy, who did this to you?”

Mingi found a small kitten in the garden. a runt, tiny thing. you had thought the bundle of orange fur was some nobles lost purse left out in the rain. he named her Daisy, saying her fur smelled of the flowers when she curled up in his big hands.

You rarely saw the man without her, the small kitten often purching on Mingi's large shoulders.

Your husband still held ribbons of his possessive behavior, however he began to distance himself from you. You rarely saw him now other then in passing on when the pair of you went to sleep at night. He also began neglecting pleasing you, but you assumed he was simply not interested as both of you often went to sleep without any contact.

Now you found yourself facing a different delema. You had always been a woman with a high sex drive, its one of the reasons you had chosen Seonghwa as a concort. However your poor knight had been frightened quite badly by yourself and your husband, and you knew he wouldnt return to you unless you seeked him out.

But you had also made Mingi a promis. One that was getting increasingly hard for you to keep.

"My lady, is everything alright? You seem lost in thought... If there is any responsibilities weighing heavy on you i am more then happy to help however i can!" the young Duke's voice was as sweet as ever.

You sighed, looking over to Yeosang, a man you had been trying not to look at for to long. His hair lay in soft curls around his face, lightened by the many years spent outside in the sunlight. Likewise his skin was warm in hue, tanner then the rest of your court.

You had heard some of the other ladies snickering about him. Yeosang surely didnt live up to some of the standards for desired beauty the royals had. A strange thought flashed in your mind. Is that why Mingi was chosen to be your husband over Yeosang? Mingi's frame was large, an incredibly masculine figure just looking at him, with dark hair and skin untouched by the sun.

Little Yeosang however, had small and dainty hands, with long thin fingers, his features were softer then Mingi's, even his skin looked soft to the touch. And the many years spent as a playmate for his sisters left him with an unthreatening demeanor.

Indeed it wasnt hard for you to imagine him, flowers in his hair, sat on a blanket in the valley, perhaps painting or writing for his own amusement. You shoved away such thoughts as you saw a line of concern crease in his brow.

"My lady..."

"I am sorry Yeosang. Truthfully ive been feeling a bit... Forgotten about in these last weeks. And its left me feeling distracted." you answered him.

"Forgotten... Ah, by your husband?" perceptive as always. You sighed, gase dropping to your tea once more, before nodding.

"Have you tried speaking to him? He has a shy nature, im sure-"

"Hes trying to help." you held up a hand to stop him. "He did not trust me, and hes trying to offer me space to show he does." you clarified.

"... I see." Yeosang chewed on his lip in thought. His lips were a pretty blush color, not as round as Mingi's but plump, they looked soft... Very soft.

You cursed yourself in your own head. His fingers, his lips, youd be lying to deny they hadnt crossed your mind when you bathed. Your hands wandering your own body, head leaned back and eyes closed. Imagining it was Yeosang's long fingers in place of your own as you gasped in pleasure.

You shooed away the maid who came to offer you more tea, informing her it wouldnt be needed. Lust was a vice that would only cause you harm as Mingi's wife. And yet, something stirred in your gut.

"Yeosang, will you come walk with me?" the Duke nodded quickly, standing to his feet to follow you deeping into the gardens.

Your husband would be furious. And yet, such a worry seemed to melt away as you let yourself become lost in his touch.

"My lady please, you must be quiet. Or else we shall scandalize some poor stable boy." Yeosang's voice purred in your ear, pressing soft kisses to your neck after speaking.

You bite your tongue as Yeosang let another finger slip inside you. You were right, his fingers were deliciously long, able to reach places within you your own faltered. His hand snaked up your skirts and inside your undergarments, the heel of his hand pressed against your clit, his wrist not forgetting such an important part as he rubbed it gently.

You could almost see stars as he began sucking on your neck, a third finger sliding within you.

"... I promised you, anything you ever needed, i will provide. If its council, wisdom, or even such sinful favors... I am at your service. Always." Yeosang's voice was honey on your skin. You pulled one of your hands up from where they were fisted in his jacket, tugging gently on his hair. He pulled away from your neck, eyes now staring into your own. A look of pride took his features, seeing the state of pleasure you were in at his hands.

Tugging his hair again, you let a small whine fall from your lips. He chuckled, increasing the pace of his hand, and before a moan could fall from your lips, he covered them with his own.

That night, cheeks finally faded with the glow of what yourself and the Duke had snuck away to do, you crossed paths with a guard.

“your highness! just who I was looking for~” dread pooled in your gut as you saw Hongjoong, cheerful grin on display, with a small kitten in his arms. Daisy shook like a leaf, eyes slit to spite the darkness of the hallway.

you opened your arms and Hongjoong placed the small cat in your hands. Daisy immediately pressed herself as far from Hongjoong as she could, a small hiss let out in his direction.

“how rude. if it wasn't for me she would have been stuck at the top of a lamp. ungrateful feline.” he huffed. you began to gently stroke the cat’s fur, in hopes of calming her down.

“an animal as small as this knows when it is in the jaws of a predator.” you stated. Hongjoong smiled, and your stomach dropped. humans are so stupid. Hongjoong is known as a cheerful and smiley person, but yet the cloud that follows him hides the nature of his grin. a wolf does not offer you a smile, he bares his teeth as a warning.

“and yet your little prince is so blissfully unaware of what he is toying with~” Hongjoong giggled. you simply blinked back at the creature before you. “you know, your fondness for that Duke will upset him. but if you wanted a straightforward solution-”

“I am not a fool like the other idiot humans that reside here.” you growled.

“oh no, absolutely not. but, witch, neither am i.” you narrow your eyes at him.

“I could have you hung for accusing the future queen of witchcraft.” you threatened. Hongjoong lay his head back and let out a hearty laugh.

“that would be a sight! do you really want to see what happened if you try and kill me?” Hongjoong stops himself before he begins laughing again. “actually I believe I know that answer. regardless, my offer still stands. just as our deal already does.”

“deal?” you feel panic rise in your throat.

“why yes, the silent one of course.” Hongjoong grins that same one that appears in your nightmares. the one that pulls his cheeks up and shows just a few to many teeth.

“you don't tell them what I am, and in exchange, I do the same.”

you awoke the next morning, without Mingi. his side of the bed was cold, and even Daisy had gone missing. you thought little of it as you rose to begin your day, however, you were not greeted by one of your handmaidens, but rather, a guard.

“your majesty, I come bearing news.” he swallowed nervously.

“oh? at this hour?” you inquired. you were then greeted by a sorrowful meow, Daisy crawling between the guards legs and hiding under your nightgown.

“your husband, Prince Mingi, was found dead in a poll of his own blood last night.”

who killed the king?

suspects : Yeosang | Seonghwa | Hongjoong

#smoky au #prince au #mingi x reader #mingi au #ateez x reader #Ateez au #yeosang x reader #Yeosang smut #royal au #fantasy au #demon au #knight au #Hongjoong au #Seonghwa au

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rudysrings · 4 years

Text

TEACH ME

The lifeguard at the beach yesterday inspired me to write this...y’all tell me that’s 👆👆👆not JJ!!!!

Summary: The reader has to train a new lifeguard, a certain blonde who can’t seem to stop hitting on her.

Word count: 4.1k (Holy shit what did I do)

Warnings: Uh mentions of drowning, weed, fluff? Not much this is really just a sweet oneshot

Credit to @alexa-playafricabytoto for the killer idea...I don’t think I did it justice but here we go anyways 😂

DISCLAIMER: I don’t know shit about lifeguards and was too lazy to do research so this it’s extremely likely that this is HIGHLY inaccurate and I’m sorry about that but just go with it for fanfic purposes, eh?

“Hey, Y/N!” Mr. Rodriguez, your manager called out for you from his office in the beach’s visitor center. You had just clocked in, still in your jean shorts and tank.

You quickly walked over, popping your head in the doorway of his office. Seated in front of him, you noticed, was a blond in a red snapback, a Kildare County Marina T-shirt on. “Yeah, boss?” You asked.

He gave you a rare, sweet smile, gesturing for you to sit down.

Confused, you cautiously walked over, sliding into the empty chair beside the blonde boy. You felt him glance at you but you looked straight at your manager.

“So Kyle’s out on some family emergency this week…” Your manager started.

You scoffed inwardly but didn’t say anything out loud for the sake of being professional. Kyle’s family emergency was most likely him passed out and hungover after a night of drinking, smoking and a shit ton of coke or molly or acid or whatever he was taking these days.

“And seeing as he was your partner and was supposed to train the newbie,” Mr. Rodriguez continued, gesturing towards the boy beside you, “So meet JJ Maybank, your new partner until I decide he’s learned enough from you.”

Your beach’s lifeguards worked on a partner system, due to its size. There were always two lifeguards in every tower to maintain maximum security.

You tried not to groan. JJ Maybank? Of all the people in the world, you had to get stuck with the one notorious for recklessness, theft, and starting fights? Of fucking course, you did.

“Right,” You nodded, giving your manager a tight-lipped smile, maintaining your politeness while subtly letting him know you were not happy with the cards you had just been dealt.

Again, without looking at JJ, you stood up, your hands on your hips. “When do we start?” You asked.

“Right now.”

You nodded, turning on your heel and calling over your shoulder. “You coming, Maybank?”

You heard shuffling as he followed after your long strides. You grabbed a rescue buoy for yourself and tossed one to JJ, who caught it with ease. You walked toward the front desk, smiling at Cheri, one of the receptionists your own age who was always nice to you, letting you get away with things she probably shouldn’t have. Picking up two whistles, you walked out the door and finally greeted the boy.

“So you lifeguard now?”

He shrugged. “I do whatever to pay for my pot.”

You rolled your eyes, walking down the beach towards your assigned tower for the day. “I can respect that.”

“So there are a few things you should know,” You began, to which JJ listened intently.

“I figure Rodriguez has already been through the list of your duties?” You raised an eyebrow in question.

JJ nodded. “Thoroughly. He doesn’t think I’ve a single brain cell, that man. He tried to draw me a picture of the lifeguard tower.”

You held in a smile. “If you ask me, he’s right to think that,” you quipped, making JJ pout.

“Anyways, apart from that, you need to know a few other things that are kind of unwritten. For example, don’t bother telling people to get off the rocks, just be ready to save them if they fall.”

JJ wrinkled his brows. “The fuck kind of rule is that? Not even going to warn people?”

You shrugged. “Unless you want to make a scene with a bunch of Karens shouting at you for dictating rules on a public beach, then you’ll do as I say.”

JJ grumbled. ‘Yes, ma’am.”

“Bob your head every once in a while so you don’t miss the people right below you.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Keep the buoy on you wherever you go.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“And lastly, don’t ever think someone is faking anything. Doesn’t matter if your friend is pranking you, we gotta do what we gotta do. We have to save every last imbecile on this beach.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Frustrated, You turned towards him, stopping in the sand, one hand on your hip. “Oh, shut your trap with that ma’am nonsense, Maybank. Trust me, you lucked out with getting me as a partner over Kyle—”

JJ nodded. “I sure did, guy’s a total tool. Besides, hot girl over junkie guy,” he whistled low, “no debate there.”

You tried not to blush at JJ calling you hot, but you felt the tips of your ears turn pink.

“Right, well, you can’t be hitting on me while we’re working together, Maybank.”

“Why not?”

You stepped forward, poking him in the chest. “Because you’ve known me since we were kids, yet we’ve never spoken. So don’t go pretending that I’m not invisible anymore.”

JJ frowned.

You turned, “Come on, there’s work to do.”

One the two of you climbed up the tower, you put on your whistle and gestured for JJ to lean forward, so that you could toss it over his neck. He did so, accidentally knocking his forehead on yours. “Sorry,” he mumbled, stepping away.

As he settled in, you stripped your shorts and tank, now left in your ruby red lifeguard one piece.

Today was slow, being a Wednesday off-season, and JJ tried to start a conversation. He pulled out a joint and offered it to you.

You gave him an “Are you kidding me,” look and he shrugged, unbothered, lighting it up and taking a long hit. “So what’s Keith really doing if he’s not having a family emergency?”

“Kieth? You mean Kyle?”

JJ nodded. “Right, him.”

You laughed dryly, “Probably wrecked after popping ten too many pills and sleeping with a few too many girls. Guy doesn’t know when to stop.”

JJ didn’t look at you, looking out at the sea. “So when did you two break it off?”

“What—We—” You spluttered.

JJ took another long inhale from the joint. “It’s easy to see, babe.”

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” you snapped, pulling down your sunglasses from atop your head, hoping to hide the emotions that were most definitely swimming in your eyes.

“S’not, I know,”

“Then why ask?”

“Just curious as to how a girl like you ended up with a douche like him.”

You were quiet for a moment, before you said, “He wasn’t always like this.”

“Only doing coke, not into molly yet?” JJ joked.

You chuckled. “No, not like that. He was incredibly kind, he had the biggest heart.” You fingered the wood on the arm of your chair.

“Then what happened?”

“Then his mom died, and I wasn’t enough.” Your hand retreated into your lap.

“He dump you?”

Your eyes narrowed. “No, I dumped him. I’m smart enough to know when I’m getting less than I deserve.”

JJ hummed. “I think I have a chance then.”

You laughed. “You’ve got nothing more than wishful thinking, Maybank.”

“Come to the kegger tonight. I’ll show you wishful thinking.”

You almost gasped at his forwardness. “No, you idiot.”

He turned towards you, meeting your eyes, pleading. You didn’t relent.

“Fine, miss, I’ll just let you keep that stick up your ass then.”

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t say that.”

When lunch came around, you let him go first, and when he returned, smelling of way too much weed, you asked, “You mind if I catch some waves? Think you can hold your own for a half hour?”

JJ gave a toothy grin. “Hell yeah, and watch you ride those waves? It’s going to be hard for me to watch anything but you.”

You smacked him over the head. “Do your job or we’ll both be in trouble, Maybank.”

You grabbed your board and climbed down, racing across the sand towards the water. Finally, you let yourself relax, sinking into the waves as they came. You even caught yourself doing a couple tricks, unconsciously trying to impress the blonde boy who was watching you from the tower. You felt high as a kite when you even managed to successfully execute several cutbacks in a row. You thought you heard a celebratory whistle from the direction of the tower and you jokingly gave a salute towards the beach.

As you climbed back up, JJ cheered. “Holy shit! I knew you were good, but god damn, Y/N! You gotta teach me how to do that Rodeo Flip! I’ve been trying to get it down for years!”

You laughed. “We’ll see, Maybank.”

His hands tugging at his hair in excitement, he asked, “How are you not going pro?!”

You shrugged. “I don’t do it for sport. It’s just something I do for me.”

JJ nodded, a renewed look of respect in his eyes. “Word.”

You spent the rest of your shift laughing at the ridiculous tourists on the beach, especially the ones that forgot sunblock.

You told JJ to go on ahead of towards the visiting center as you had a couple of things left to tidy up.

When you returned, he was chatting up Cheri, a thousand watt smile on her face as she enjoyed the attention from the pretty blonde.

You rolled your eyes, shoving past them to dump your equipment and clock out. You didn’t know what that bubbling feeling in your abdomen was, or why your stomach lurched at the thought of Cheri and JJ, or maybe you did, but you chose not to think about it too hard, afraid of the conclusion you’d come to.

As you walked out of the visitor center, turning towards home, you heard JJ call your name. You stopped, closing your eyes and muttering a silent prayer for the patience to deal with this boy.

He jogged out, making his way to you. “Hey!” He greeted, out of breath.

“Here to give me another half-assed invite to some kegger?” You asked.

JJ frowned, shaking his head. “No, I just wanted to clarify something you said this morning. You-You said that I thought you were invisible, because we’ve never spoken.”

“And?” you didn’t see where he was going with this other than to insult you.

“We’ve never spoken because I had the biggest crush on you Y/N. I’ve avoided you everywhere. You were hardly invisible to me. If anything, I didn’t think you saw me.”

You laughed. “Sure, Maybank.”

JJ shuffled his feet, shoving his hands in his pockets. “It’s true,” he mumbled.

You smiled, “Have fun at the kegger, JJ.” You gave him a peck on the cheek before walking off into the night, the darkness hiding your flaming cheeks.

You heard a celebratory whoop from behind you and bit your lip as you smiled.

Your heart felt light all week as you got closer to your partner. He was actually great at his job, especially with the children patrons on the beach, which greatly surprised you.

You remembered one day in the middle of the week, when you were dropping your equipment off, JJ didn’t have his whistle.

When you asked about it, he simply laughed. “This kid near the docks kept pestering me for it. Little guy wanted to be a junior lifeguard. Couldn’t say no…”

It was at the end of the week when you met his friends, the infamous, self-proclaimed pogues.

The trio had shown up near the end of your shift, claiming to be curious of the job that JJ actually managed to keep for longer than a day. JJ saw them approaching and immediately swore, turning towards you to say, “I’m going to apologize now for what you’re about to experience.”

Before you could ask what that meant, he had left, climbing down the towers to stop his friends from reaching you.

Confused, you made your way down, too, watching as a boy with shaggy brown hair clapped JJ over the back, ruffling his hair aggressively. “So this is what you’ve been missing out on pogue days for?”

A dark haired boy, who looked nervous about simply existing, added, “Not what, who,” nodding at you, standing with your arms crossed over your chest and an eyebrow cocked.

JJ had a permanent blush on his face, but you couldn’t puzzle out why. Meanwhile, you received a slightly reserved smile from the girl holding hands with the nervous boy. She waved politely.

The boy with shaggy hair marched forward, arms wide open to give you a hug. You thrust your hand out on instinct, which he looked at like a difficult algebra equation, before brushing it away gently and pulling you into his tight embrace. The boy gave great hugs, you had to admit. The kind of tight bear hugs you expect from your mom.

You laughed nervously, patting him on the back and looking over his shoulder at the other three, who all laughed. JJ mouthed I’m sorry at you and you responded with I’m going to kill you.

When he finally let you go, he tussled your hair and said, “Nice to meet the girl who’s got my boy tripping over his own feet to get to work. I’m John B.”

You flicked your eyes over to JJ, who was as red as a tomato. He buried his face in Pope’s shoulder, muttering something. You snorted. “Hardly. I’m Y/N.”

The dark haired boy grinned, “Trust me, we know. I’m Pope and this is Kie,” he introduced himself and what you assumed was his girlfriend.

In the next hour, you learned that JJ’s friends were loud, blunt and lacked basic manners in some ways, but they were youthful and thick as thieves, clearly a family.

There was something warm about Pope, something that allowed you to trust him immediately, completely. So when the other three were surfing, and he joined you on the sand, asking you, “So are you feelin’ my boy or what?”, you weren’t afraid to be completely honest.

Giving a short laugh at his bluntness, you admitted, “I don’t really know. There could be something there. There is something there, I think.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

You would feel pathetic to confess this to anybody else, but Pope seemed like he wouldn’t judge you if you admitted to having three children. “I don’t know if we want the same things. I don’t see a guy like that in a serious relationship. Doesn’t seem like the type to settle.”

Pope grinned. “You know him well, then.”

Your heart fell as you thought that Pope was confirming your fears.

“But not well enough, I think. You’d be surprised. He’s kind of...obsessed with you. But not in the “Pokemon gotta catch ‘em all!” kind of way. He doesn’t see you as some sort of spiky eared Pichu…”

He trailed off and you looked at him, absolutely baffled. “I’m sorry...I don’t follow?”

Pope cleared his throat. “He likes you, Y/N, like really respects you and wants to make you happy. Any fool can see that.”

You were sure your entire body was on fire with how hard you flushed. “Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. Well, you keep him on his toes so we don’t mind. And it’s made him a little softer, a little more careful, which we definitely don’t mind. He needs to be checked, that one.”

Pope stood up, reaching his hand out and pulling you up. “Now, JJ tells me you have a killer cutback. Wanna show me?” He asks.

You give him a big smile, grateful for his kind words and ability to seamlessly bring you back to reality from that heavy conversation. “I’d love to. If you can keep up!”

Laughing, Pope followed you into the ocean, JJ giving you an excited smile as you joined him in the water, content to see you getting along with his family.

Later that night, when his friends left, and JJ was helping you towel off your hair while shaking his own like a wet dog, making you giggle and shriek at the sensation, he asked, “You wanna actually catch some waves outside of this beach sometime?”

It was your conversation with Pope earlier that gave you the confidence to say, “How about tomorrow? It’s our day off…”

“I’ll pick you up before dawn then?”

You nodded, “Sounds perfect.”

He tossed you your towel, casually throwing an arm over your shoulder as the two of you walked back to the visitor’s center.

The next morning, you were a mess. JJ had never seen you in anything aside from your lifeguard uniform and you nearly lost your mind trying to figure out what to wear. You felt like a middle schooler deciding what to wear on the first day of school to impress their crush.

Eventually, you thought to hell with it, and just went with a blue romper over your swimsuit, letting your hair down for once.

You didn’t bother with makeup since you were planning to get soaked anyways.

When you heard the distinct sound of a large engine approaching, you walked out of your house, curious.

When the image of JJ on a dirt bike came into focus, you couldn’t help the cackle that tittered out of your mouth.

He slowed down to a complete stop in front of your driveway, swinging his leg over and walking up to you, spinning the key ‘round his finger.

“Hey, dude!” He greeted, sweeping you up in an unexpected hug. Still, you melted into his frame, letting your usually rigid spine relax, feeling JJ nuzzle into your shoulder slightly and sighing.

You pulled away after a moment and JJ rubbed the back of his neck shyly, shuffling his feet awkwardly. “Sorry, I-uh, I really needed that today.” This boy was touch-starved.

You patted his chest as you walked towards the dirt bike. “S’alright, it happens to the best of us.”

JJ followed you. “You ever ridden one of these before?”

You cocked your head at him. “Oh yeah, all the time.”

He looked surprised, before handing you the keys and raising his eyebrows in challenge. “Prove it.”

You simply smirked and mounted the bike, pretending you didn’t hear JJ mumble “That’s hot,” under his breath. Instead, you started the engine and nodded at him to get on behind you.

JJ smiled before climbing on behind you, scooching forward until every inch of your back was flush against his front.

“Let’s go, babe!” You said, before taking off down the street.

JJ gave you directions, steering you into areas of the Cut you had never been, which was saying something since you knew this town like the back of your hand.

Finally, he pulled up to a small cove, where you saw a small patch of sand. It was the farthest land towards the sea, meaning you would probably find the biggest waves.

“Holy shit, how did I not know this place existed?”

JJ grinned, bringing you to a small shack where a couple of boards were hidden from view in the foliage.

He handed you a board. “I’m full of surprises. Your hair smells nice, by the way.”

“Stop that!” You laughed.

“Stop what?”

You slapped him over the head. “Making me blush.”

“Don’t think I will.”

You rolled your eyes and simply unzipped your romper, ignoring the whistle from JJ as you stepped out in only your swimsuit. You laid the fabric over the handle of his dirt bike and turned towards him. He was still in his T-shirt and swim trunks.

“Aren’t you going to take your shirt off?”

JJ gave a shit-eating grin, “My, my, Y/L/N, at least take a guy to dinner first.”

You shoved at his chest. “No, you dumbass, I meant you can’t surf in that.”

JJ opened his mouth as if to say something before pausing and wrinkling his nose. “It’s just not a good idea for me today.”

“What did you eat a little too much? I can promise I’m not afraid of a food baby, Maybank, I can deal.”

JJ tried explaining before just giving up and pulling his shirt off, leaving you shocked and incredibly confused, not to mention concerned.

Bruises littered his body, beginning at his shoulder and ending far below his ribs. Involuntarily, your hand brushed his skin. “What the fuck happened, JJ?”

He shrugged. “S’my Dad, you know. Gets angry sometimes is all.”

You shook your head sadly. “You don’t deserve that.”

JJ laughed darkly. “That’s up for debate.”

You stomped your foot. “No, it’s absolutely not! No one deserves that, especially not you.”

JJ softened. “You really think so?”

“Of course I do.”

He gave a small smile. “So you won’t make fun of me for not being able to keep up with you today? It’s only because I got my ass kicked, otherwise I’d surf circles around you all day.”

His words made you frown, but you recognized the coping mechanism and simply said, “Oh sure, Maybank. You know as well as I do that there’s not a world where you can surf better than me.”

He shrugged, walking towards the water. “I can sure as hell try, babe!”

Surfing with JJ was an experience on some whole other level. Sharing a wave was something even the most experienced surfers didn’t attempt, but something in you trusted JJ and the two of you tried it out. It was absolutely surreal, until JJ didn’t resurface.

Your euphoric smile quickly turned into a panicked cry. “JJ? JJ?!” You looked around and caught sight of him hanging on to his board, eyes closed. You swiftly untied your board from your ankle and swam over to him, pulling him towards you. He was like dead weight. You dragged him over to the shore and dumped him there, immediately leaning down to check his pulse.

You felt it clear as day, but tears filled your eyes. “JJ! Wake up!”

You began chest compressions immediately. Before you even got to ten, however, you heard a giggle.

Bewildered, you looked at his smiling face, his amused blue eyes laughing at you.

You instantly flinched away, retreating from him. “You were faking?”

JJ nearly choked on his laughter. “You-you should have—” He tried to breathe through the guffaws “—seen your face! Priceless!”

You slapped at his chest with your fists as he sat up, ignoring his slight winces given his prior injuries. “Ay, ay what’s up with that! Stop it, Y/N!”

“You bastard! I thought you were dying!”

JJ softened, before holding the back of your neck and pulling you towards him, leaning in to capture your lips with his. It was sweet and short and he pulled away quickly, asking. “Was that alright?”

You shook your head, pouting. “No, another!”

He smiled, but gave in to your pleas gleefully, his other hand coming over the front of your neck, pulling you closer to him by your throat. You bit his lip harshly, still angry from the stunt he had just pulled and his whined quietly, moving his hand down your spine, hands brushing the bare skin that your swimsuit exposed.

He lay back, pulling you on top of him. You straddled him, allowing him to deepen the kiss. You didn’t realize how much you had wanted this until you were doing it. You were kissing JJ Maybank. And it felt right. It felt as right as surfing did, maybe even better, you dared to think.

Maybe it was the fact that he kissed you like he had all the time in the world and didn’t care, because he was hungry right now. Maybe it was how he held you like he was afraid you would let go. Maybe it was how he managed to wordlessly beg for your skin on his, clearly touch-starved. Whatever it was, it solidified the growing feelings you had for the blonde, blossoming into something new, something stronger, something better, until you couldn’t hear any of your own thoughts other than his name--over, and over and over again.

When you finally broke that time, you smiled into his neck, trying to catch your breath. “Wow,” sighed JJ, “That was some kiss, babe. If you kiss me like that forever, I’ll die a happy man.”

You giggled, but sat up slightly, flicking his nose. You knew you had to get this awful, insecure doubt of yours out of your mouth right now before you let it fester into something that could ruin this beautiful thing you were creating with JJ. “If you ever break my heart, JJ, I swear to God, you better not cheat on me.”

He frowned. “Wouldn’t dream of it. I’ve wanted this forever. Can’t fuck it up now.”

You smiled, bending down for another kiss. JJ stopped you. “Wait. While we’re making promises, let me just say, if you ever get back with Kyle, I will sue.”

You thought the whole town probably heard your laugh then.

K so not my best work but hope y’all liked it!

Tagging @rretrophilee @jjsbxtch @drewsephsmiles @uwubonebabie bc we talked about it! You don’t have to read if you don’t want to lol 💛

#jj maybank #jj maybank x reader #outer banks #outer banks fanfiction #jj #jj maybank x you #obx #jj imagines #jj imagine #jj x you #jj maybank imagine #jj x reader #jj outer banks #obx jj #jj x y/n #outer banks imagines #outerbanks #obx fanfiction #jj maybank fluff

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thebeatleaesthetic · 4 years

Text

Paul McCartney on John Lennon’s Sexuality [Quotes]

[wordcount: 1.3 k]

I don't think [the gay claims] are true. John never ever tried anything, I slept with him a million times. I've seen him on tour roaring drunk, out of his mind in the early days before he sobered up and went to rehab. Roaring drunk and it was always with a female, never once [with a man]. If you've got a little gay tendency and you’re roaring drunk I'd have caught him once.

— Paul McCartney (from The Sun)

That was the intimacy we had. We would always be walking in on each other and things. I’d walked in on John and seen a little bottom bobbing up and down with a girl underneath him. It was perfectly normal: you’d go, ‘Oh shit, sorry,’ and back out the room...

That’s why I’ve always found very strange the theory that John was gay. Because over fifteen years of sharing rooms, sharing our lives, not one of us has an incident to relate of catching John with a boy. I would have thought that kind of thing would be more prevalent, and John’s inhibitions were certainly free when he was drunk.

...

So there was the homosexual thing - I’m not sure John did anything but we certainly gave him a lot of grief when he got back [from Spain with Brian].

...

There has been a suggestion since that John had some homosexual thing with Brian, but I personally doubt it. All the intimate moments we shared were always about girls.

— Paul McCartney (from The Beatles Anthology book)

The funny thing is when later the rumour came out that John was gay, I said: 'I don't think so.' I mean, I don't know what he did when he went to New York, but certainly not in any of my experiences. We used to sleep together, top and tail it, you know. I always used to say: 'Come on, I would have spotted something here.' But what I spotted was completely the opposite. It was just chicks, chicks, chicks.

— Paul McCartney (from The Guardian 2007 interview with Pete Doherty)

But I--I mean, I hear [Peter Brown] said John Lennon had a gay thing with Brian Epstein when they went to Spain together once. That's been rumored for years. I mean, was he in the room with them? It's probably just wishful thinking on his part. But I'll tell you what's naughty about it--that John's not here to answer it, and neither is Brian. All that stuff that's written about us, I just hope that people who've sort of heard of our music, vaguely, know what the Beatles, or the ex-Beatles, were--and it wasn't what's been written. I mean, John's time and effort were, in the main, spent on pretty honorable stuff.

— Paul McCartney (from the Playboy 1984 interview)

I don't actually know the truth of the John [and Brian Epstein relationship] rumor. I mean, all I can ever say about that is that I slept with John a lot just 'cause you--you had to sleep and you know you didn't have, you know, more than one bed. And, um, to my knowledge John was never gay. It might've been--I've suspected that the John thing and Brian was a power play on John. 'Cause John was a very political animal. And John I suspect went away on that, uh, Spanish holiday, wherever it was, number one 'cause nobody went on holiday so anyone--I would've gone. Anyone would've gone. Off a free holiday? You're kidding. Yes! I'm there. Number two, I'm sure John took Brian aside and said "Hey, you wanna deal with this group, I'm the guy you deal with. Okay?" John was that kind of guy. Very sensible, very pragmatic. So I'm sure that was the main reason John went there. Now as to whether there was any sort of gay dalliance or whatever, I don't know. That's--that's--that’s, uh, I can't tell you that... And I say, he never hit on me at all. You know, there was never any question of it at all. And I say, we lived so intimately together that there would've been one evening when he's sort of drunk and so and so and so, would've been in his character to do that...

— Paul McCartney (from the Beatle Stories channel)

I slept in a million hotel rooms, as we all did, with John and there was never any hint that he was gay...

When the group was formed John was a smart cookie. Brian Epstein was going on holiday to Spain and Brian was gay. He invited John along. John, not being stupid, saw his opportunity to impress upon Mr Epstein who was the boss of this group. And I think that's why John went on holiday. And good luck to him, too - he was that kind of guy, he wanted Brian to know who he should listen to in this group, and that was the relationship...

So they say he went on holiday with someone who was known to be gay and therefore he is gay.

— Paul McCartney (from Lennon, Ray Coleman)

I think where [Albert Goldman in his John Lennon biography] started to exaggerate and says that John was possibly homosexual. I think that he throws that in with the truth and it starts to have the same credence as the real truth... But, um, there's a bit about me where John's supposed to come around to my house and put his foot through a picture or something. Well, I mean, it never happened you know. So if one of them never happened it's quite possible that a lot of stuff in the book never happened. And I say, if he’s homosexual, I'd have thought he'd made a pass at me in 20 years, darling!

— Paul McCartney (from The Today Show 1988)

You know, that rumor [about John being gay] came out a long time ago and the thing was, the person that started the rumor or the book that it was in, he didn't know John. Whereas I did. So I--I said to people, you know around about that time, said, "Look. I was on tour with John. I grew up with John. We kind of--we slept in the same bed in hotel rooms. We topped and tailed it like kids do, you know, when you're growing up." And I said, "I never once did I see any hint of that." Now, you know, we spent drunken nights together. I think there would've been a hint. Don't you? Somewhere. If he was gay, I think there would've just been a hint, somewhere. But it was a rumor started, uh, years ago that I--I think is a nice story if you can make it stick, but I don't think it's true.

— Paul McCartney (on The Howard Stern Show)

Stern: Here's what [Philip Norman’s] book claimed: Your sexuality was so powerful over [John], he was so enamored of you, so attracted to you, almost... McCartney: Wow. Stern: ... that you could have your way with him. Not sexually... Quivers: Did you feel a power over him? McCartney: No. Stern: ... that in business. That you had a--that--that he was sort of at your mercy because he was so in love with you. That was the theory in the book. McCartney: Well, you know, I mean I--I like that theory. Stern: Yeah [laughs]. Wish that could've been true. McCartney: No, man. Stern: No, not to have sex, but to be able to control him more because it would've been a little bit easier, business-wise. McCartney: No, but--but Howard, listen man. You can make up theories about anything... I mean, you know, we can make up anything. And that is really, particularly with The Beatles, that is what happens. They just take one tiny fragment of evidence and they blow it up into a book, even.

— Paul McCartney appears on The Howard Stern Show

▬▬▬▬

If I were to insert my own personal take on this...

I think part of the reason Paul is insistent on John’s heterosexuality (other than because he never saw John as gay) is because Paul found Albert Goldman’s, Philip Norman’s and Peter Brown’s biographies ‘trashy’. As he said when speaking about Goldman’s book in 1988: “For me, I just think it’s trash.” The rumors were around before the books’ release, but I think they - particularly Goldman - widely spread the theory among the public and elaborated on it. Paul claims there are lies in the books and he’s commented before that he strongly dislikes when people ‘cash in’ on the Beatle story with made up information. Especially when it was old friends, like Peter Brown.

As far as I can tell, Paul is also a bit protective of John’s image. To quote him from the Today Show: “[John] isn’t here to defend himself. I think that’s the big problem with a book like [Goldman’s]. It’s too cheap a shot, I think.” Remember that this book was released not even ten years after John’s death, when his name must’ve been a hot-ticket, and it’s obvious John wasn’t there to respond to any claims. John used to be asked about his relationship with Brian, denying that anything happened between them. But in these books, it was no longer asking John directly if he were gay; it was speculating that John was gay and strongly suggesting it to the reader. I think Paul feels the need to talk about what John was really like, even clarifying things like John’s flawed nature, or that John wouldn’t have wanted to be a martyr. John’s sexuality is something deeply personal and accusing him of being gay even more so. Paul must see himself as one of the few people who knew John well enough to comment on such personal things like that - which is why he says things like “I mean, was he in the room with them? It's probably just wishful thinking on his part” about Brown writing on John’s trip to Spain. I think he must find spreading rumors like that a bit presumptuous.

And of course there’s the thought that John might’ve been attracted to Paul himself. I think Paul values his memories of John’s friendship to the highest degree. So, when he hears people turning it into something else entirely, he almost immediately goes “No, no” in very clear and firm terms as he did on The Howard Stern show.

I know there is a variety of opinions on this subject, but that’s just mine!

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everydayanth · 4 years

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Academic Elitism: an institutional issue

Sorry for being so rant-y lately, but the elitism of university has been a problem for me from the exact moment I accepted my scholarship with a signature and a handshake in high school. (The scholarship was later revoked due to state up-fuckery, but that’s another story, and I was already in too deep by the time they told me).

My parent’s house was only an hour north, my younger sister had already claimed my room, but I was excited. I was in the furthest dorm building, because that’s where the scholarship kids went, it was like a poor kid diversity hall, every few doors was someone from a completely different background, but we were all poor except our Swedish RA, and there was an odd pride in that. We all had various scholarships: robotics, dance team, nerds like me, etc. (not the football or hockey athletes though, they had their own dorm next to the library for... reasons, lol).

But being the last hall, it wasn’t actually full, most of us had entire rooms to ourselves, often whole suites; our hall was co-ed, but rooms were only occupied at every-other, staggered down the corridor. Only the front two halls were used, the back two closed off for construction or codes or something. We had to hike up the hill for dining halls, which was fine until snowdays that shut the whole campus down (and I mean west Michigan ones, with 4+ feet of powder and ice underneath). I had an old computer my dad got me for graduation and I didn’t know it was old until my peers started calling it a dinosaur. I had to use the library computers to write and print papers, and most places I went, I ran into the other scholarship kids. We didn’t talk much, just a head bob here and there, awareness at our similarities and an annoyed spite at being thrown together this way. It was lonely for everyone.

I had a purple flip phone I’d gotten only that calendar year (2009) and was still learning to text with (abbreviations? instant messaging? what?). My roommate had come down from Alaska to live near her dad, we’d talked in the summer, but I never saw her. I moved my things in and her stuff was on her side, I texted her about going to turn in paperwork and when I came back, there was a note on my bed and all her things were gone, she couldn’t do it, had never been away from home for even a night. She left a few mismatched socks and a bag of junk pens that I resented for years.

Social media was mostly a way to talk to people across campus and exchange homework and party times/locations. We posted over-edited photos of our food and still jogged with our mp3 players and ipods. But within two years, I had to trade in my computer three times and upgrade to a smartphone to keep up with the expectations of communication. Professors would cancel classes by emails an hour out, and if I was on campus, I simply didn’t get the message, running between classes with 19 credit hours and three jobs. Work would call in or cancel my appointments (tutoring) and I needed to be able to communicate at the rate of my peers, so though it wasn’t something we could easily afford, my parents let me get the smartphone and my dad helped me find computers that could keep up with writing papers and researching without having to go to the lab, which saved so much time.

There was little understanding for my suffering. I didn’t have a car, I had to call my parents and organize a time to get home or take the train which was more expensive than waiting around on an empty campus. They were often things that even the wealthiest students had to deal with, but there were so much more of them for us, more stress, more problems, more solutions, more consequences, and in some ways, more determination.

I spent plenty of breaks holed up in my room, but when the swine flu/H1N1 outbreak happened, guess where they quarantined students?

In our hall.

Not the back one that was closed. In the room attached to my suite.

After half a semester alone, suddenly strangers shared my bathroom. I never saw them, I would just hear the formidable click of the bathroom lock followed by the shower. A week later I got a blue half-sheet note in my mailbox about quarantines. The other kids were as pissed off, as we watched kids escorted in with blue masks and were told to just get cleaning wipes from the front desk –they ran out in a week.

We were the recyclable students, brought in to trade scholarships for university grade averages. Many of my friends were struggling with scholarship qualifications and gpas (which only encouraged my continual obsessive perfectionism and involvement).

We were expendable.

I didn’t understand the elitism then, or I did, but I’d twisted it in my head from years tossed between private and public schools. I was an invader, I wasn’t supposed to be there, but I wanted to be. I understood that I didn’t deserve it, that I had to work harder to stay. I completed Master’s coursework for my Bachelor’s degree, finishing two BA programs (anthropology and English: creative writing) and 2 minor programs in philosophy and world lit, lead several campus groups and volunteered with honor’s societies. I spent hours on campus every day, running home just to go to one job or the other. I slept about four hours a night and I still romanticize it because I loved it. And I was good at it. It was a closed system, easy to infiltrate, easy to watch and observe and follow, to feel protected from the world, but there were always ways that I came up short.

I didn’t have leggings or Northface fleeces or Ugg boots or name brand anything (except a pair of converse I got in 8th grade from my Babcia). I had old high school sweats and soccer shirts, hand-me-down clothes from sisters and cousins that mix-matched a style I thought was unique but I now understand screamed I don’t really belong here. Example: I went to propose an independent study to a professor I really admired and I panicked about what to wear. I still cringe at the memory, gahhhhhh, but I pulled on what I thought was a decent dress because it had no rips or stains or tears and though I’d picked it up from a clearance rack, it was the newest thing and therefore the best. But in retrospect, it was definitely a “party” dress, I grabbed a sweater, hoop earrings that had always been beautiful in my neighborhood, and heels I never wore otherwise, and presented my idea. This old professor was just like “um...did you dress up for me?” Clearly spooked by red flags and I realized my mistake. Saved by quick thinking I clarified “no, I have a presentation later,” and being a familiar face in the social sciences department, I let him assume I was dressed up as something. I just went in my sweats and t-shirts after that, got a haircut that tamed the wavy frizz and learned the importance of muted tones, cardigans, and flats.

I made a lot of interesting friends in the process, people who also stuck out from the American Academic culture: exchange students, older (non-traditional) students, rebels, and other poor kids. But that also meant that we all evolved during our time there, so friendship was quick and fleeting as we adapted or dropped out or remained oblivious, lost in our studies and dreams of changing the world or our lives.

I had no idea how to approach the dining halls because I could only afford the bronze plan that was included with my room+board scholarship. I could enter the hall ten times per week, with four included passes to the after-hours carry-out (this was an upgrade from the free high school lunch I was coming from). I met other kids on this plan and their dorm rooms had fridges and microwaves and shelves of ramen and mac’n’cheese. Mine was sparse, my fridge had jugs of water from the filtered tap in the common room, and though it had a shared kitchenette, it always smelled bad or was being used and the nearest grocery store was Meijers which was a 15-20 minute drive from campus. I used so much energy dividing up my meals and figuring out how to sneak food from the hall for later or just learn to not eat, which is another story involving malnutrition, broken bones, and the American Healthcare System.

We like to summarize the college experience with fond struggles. I went back to my old high school to watch my younger sisters’ marching band competition that first year (it’s MI, and they were good). My old art teacher (not much older than we were but she felt so much older at the time, also her maiden name was Erickson and so was her fiance’s so she didn’t “change” her name and that blows my mind to this day), anyway, she stopped me to ask how school was going, and I was not prepared to be recognized in anyway and stammered out something like “oh, yeah, stressful. Fun, cool, yeah,” like the eloquent well-educated student I was. And she said, “oh, I loved it, don’t you love it? Everything’s so charming, and being poor? Oh man, it’s hard for a while, but it’s so good to go through.”

I was dumbfounded at her reference to poverty as a thing to go through when you’re a student. I again had to remember that I was infiltrating places where people weren’t just marginally more well-off than I was, but far beyond, in a place where they couldn’t comprehend an alternative, couldn’t conceive of surviving poverty, of not having a reliable place to fall if you mess up, parents who couldn’t support you if things went wrong, who couldn’t save you from having to drop out if scholarships were canceled because the money just wasn’t there.

Talking with my parents never worked, and I recently found this video by The Financial Diet about Boomer shame in being poor, where many Millennials were united by it and it was #relatable. But all this is to say that there are so many layers and ways we develop in higher education that are often overlooked by the romantic nostalgia of the elite expectation. What we demand from education vs. what it offers us in return is rarely equal for students coming from poverty, and it starts with that first sacrifice of looking at money and deciding it has to be worth it to do something bigger, and that education is a necessary piece of that goal.

Now I live near Brown University, I’ve been to Harvard when we lived in Boston and recently took a trip to Yale with bold expectations. I am friends with several people who work at these places and I hear the same things: so many students are in a place where their obsessions are considered more important than the larger world, an argument that Shakespeare is a woman is more important to prove than the greater issues of sexism in society as a whole, while others are trained to look at data and the world as a pocketable fact-book, going to conferences and week-long summits and then off to D.C. to make important decisions about places they’ve never been to, for people they’ve never met, about problems they’ve never experienced.

It’s not new. It’s not romantic. It’s not nostalgic. It’s just sick.

I was horrified at New Haven. I have read so many social science reports and papers and experiments and academic bullshit that has come from professors at Yale with a big badge of ivy-league validation. So much of this research was focused on homelessness and culture clash and socio-economics in America, as that was my “dissertation” that got me discounted master’s classes for my BA in Anthropology. Anyway, my point was that I thought this noble, proud university that put out so much research was going to be situated in something of a utopia, where their research is put into practice. Obviously, I was wrong, but I didn’t expect how wrong. (I had also started reading Leigh Bardugo’s Ninth House, so... there’s another thing).

My observations were validated by employees of ivy-league schools, who have watched over the past 2 decades as they grow more and more reclusive, hiding away from the public except through a few, probably well-intentioned, outstretched hands that do little to contribute to the world outside the university itself. These ivory towers are built by poaching: environments, observations, resources, research, and yeah, even students.

I love academia. I will sit in a library for hours just pulling down tomes (and putting them back in their proper locations like a dork) and drawing connections just for fun. But right now, I’m a bit bitter and spiteful and angry.

When something like Coronavirus sneaks up on us, we have a tendency to throw the most expendable people under the bus as quickly as we can, and all I can think about is my shadow of a suite-mate sneezing and coughing with swine flu for two weeks, at how I refused to use my own bathroom and listened to my hall-mates’ advice about showering at the rec center a mile away as we all collectively locked our bathroom doors and were left there by the university to get sick without insurance to help with any foreseeable costs.

It’s not the same now, they’ve rebuilt the entire section of the campus, it’s odd to see it, I wonder where they put the expendable kids. Or maybe they don’t accept them anymore. I’ve worked in college admissions since then, and it is a scary industry of politics and preference and hidden quotas and image-agendas. Not all schools are industry monsters, but when you’re expendable, they sure do feel like it, whether you graduate summa cum laude with two degrees, six awards, and five tasseled ropes around your neck or not.

I wish I had a positive message. I wish I was in a place to help people who feel expendable or like they can’t keep up with communications because of technology or language or network or environment. But I don’t have much right now. For all its posturing and linear progression, academia needs to create profit. All I can do is yell about this existing.

If you are feeling expandable in university, I can tell you you’re not alone. I can let you rant about all the small ways your peers don’t get it, whether its an accent they shit on or ceremonies you don’t have the right clothes for or textbooks you share with a friend to cut costs but then they hoard them. I can relate to you about guilt and that sneaking panic that fills you with anxiety at night as you question yourself and wonder if it’s worth it at all, if it’s necessary, if it’s okay to be expendable to follow something that feels bigger. I can validate your doubt and tell you that you’re not actually expendable, you’re a bridge.

I’m sorry it still works like this. I wish we figured out how to change it by now, I wish I had secret shortcuts to tell you about, that there was more accountability or hope, but I’m not seeing it lately. I hope you do. <3

#academia #anthropology #sociology #university #culture #h1n1 #coronavirus #poverty #wealth gap #elitism

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one-boring-person · 4 years

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@theghostof-myndi I'm so sorry this has taken such a long time to write! I hope it was worth the wait, though!💛💛💛

Are You Paid To Say That?

Kevin Richter (Trapped In Silence) x reader

Warnings: mentions of violence, mental illness/challenges

A/N: Im really sorry if this isn't as good as you were expecting, I find the characters quite difficult to write, but I've tried my best. I wasn't really too sure where to take this, so I hope thinks ok.💛💛

Masterlist

"How're things going with Kevin?" I inquire as I walk with Jennifer out of the building, pulling my coat tighter around my body as the icy winter air surrounds us, biting at my heated skin.

"Well, I thought they were going well, but he had another outburst today, so I think we might've been set back a bit." The shrink admits to me, adjusting the box in her arms, making the bits and bobs inside clatter against each other.

"Another outburst? How come?" I frown a bit, knowing that this particular patient can be violent at the best of times, concerned now for the older woman's safety.

"I'm not entirely sure this time. We were talking about meeting more people his age, when he mentioned something about seeing a girl around here...hang on, how old are you?" She asks, looking over at me curiously.

Lifting an eyebrow, I quickly respond.

"I'm seventeen."

Realisation seems to dawn on her face as she hears this, knowing that there are, in fact, no other younger workers in the institute, and definetly none that work with the more challenging patients.

"What?" I question when she continues to start at me in amazement.

"I think he was talking about you, (Y/n)." Jennifer reveals, frowning to herself as if thinking something over in her head.

"About me? He doesn't even know who I am, and I don't think he's ever seen me before." I protest, thinking back to the fragile, highly volatile boy currently residing in the Quiet Room.

"Maybe, but the description he gave matches you pretty well." She informs me, smiling gently at the look of genuine shock on my face, "I'll ask him more about it tomorrow."

"Ok, thank you." I respond, not knowing quite how to react to this information, waving a little as she walks off to her car, leaving me standing in the cold to mull over what I've heard.

Jennifer's hurried footsteps echo through the corridor as she approaches me, eyes intent on me, clearly needing to say something to me, prompting me to break off the conversation with the security guard I was having so that I can greet her. When she sees this, she speeds up a bit, hair blowing past her face with an air of importance.

"I was right, (Y/n), it is you that he meant." She blurts out as she reaches me, eyes filling with a mixture of curiosity and sympathy as she regards me.

"What do you mean? Who are we talking about?" I ask her, though I have a feeling I know where this is going.

"Kevin. I showed him a picture of you and he took it from me. He seemed pretty attached to it, and went ballistic when I asked him for it back." She informs me, leading me away from our original spot, back the way she came.

"Kevin? Are you sure? I might just look like someone he knows." I try to reason, feeling a dull sense of fear as she drags me down the corridor, my eyes wide at the idea of going to see the troubled boy.

"Oh, I don't think so, (Y/n). He's drawn out pictures of everyone he want to remember, and I've spoken to the remaining members of his family: there is no way you just remind him of someone. I've been working with him for a while now, I know his habits." She clarifies, leading me down a more secluded corridor, towards the main office, at which point my fear fades into curiosity.

"Are you sure?" I ask one last time, looking away guiltily when she sends me a pointed glance, "Sorry, you know better than I do. Where are we going?"

"Right here." She gestures with a smile to the door we've stopped outside of, knocking just below the sign determining the owner of the room: the head of the institute.

Eyeing her curiously, I remain silent as we wait for him to respond, following her hesitantly when his voice sounds from behind the door. Respectfully, I stand just by the door as she goes inside completely, waiting there as she speaks with Dr Tomlinson, staying quiet as I let the older members talk with each other.

"Jennifer? What do you need?" The doctor greets her, sending a cursory glance at me, before returning his eyes to her.

"I want someone to help me with Kevin's case." She states, excitement creeping into her voice at the thought, clearly eager to keep up with the therapy.

"You do?" Dr Tomlinson looks surprised, eyes widening at her words, my own quickly fixing on the back of Jennifer's head.

"I do. I think it could really help him socialise better, and he'd get to speak to someone other than me for once." She nods enthusiastically, smiling to herself, as if aware of somehow we're not at liberty to know.

"Ok. I guess I can ask around, though I doubt many people are rave enough-" The doctor starts, only to be cut off by Jennifer, who is shaking her head at his words.

"No, don't worry about that. I already have someone in mind." Confusion and curiosity flood me at this, my mind instantly trying configure out who she could be talking about.

"Oh? And who is that?"

"Well, it's (Y/n) of course."

It takes everything I have not to faint.

"Don't worry, (Y/n), you'll be fine. He's not as bad as everyone makes him out to be." Jennifer reassures me as we get ready to enter the therapy room.

Trembling in nerves, I shift from foot to foot as I think through what I'm about to do, well aware that this is only the second case I've ever worked on, and that he doesn't have the greatest reputation. On our way over, Jennifer had given me a rundown of what she knows of his backstory and old living conditions, explaining that she had managed to get him to talk and communicate, but also that he is highly volatile at times, my trepidation and dread just building up the closer we get to the room. Now that we're here, a cold sweat has broken out over my forehead and skin.

"I know, I'm sorry. I just haven't really done this too often." I confess, feeling it important she know that I'm not an experienced worker here, reminding her that I'm only a volunteer who helps out here and there.

"Oh, right, I forgot about that." She frowns, reconsidering as she recalls this, "If you don't feel ready, you don't have to come in. I'm not going to make you."

Taking a deep breath, I decline her offer, biting my lip as I then follow her into the room.

My eyes quickly find the hunched figure in the corner, his messy hair matted and dishevelled, skin pale around his face except under his eyes, where deep purple bags have formed, though the blue-green irises that briefly flick up to greet us are sharp and probing as anything, homing in on my presence instantly. His muscles go rigid, eyes remaining fixed on me even as Jennifer and I move furher into the room. Awkwardly, I hold eye contact for a few seconds, before dropping my gaze with a blush covering my cheeks.

"Good morning, Kevin. I brought along someone to help us with today's session, that ok? This is (Y/n), the girl in the photograph I gave you a week back." Jennifer introduces us, setting the box of items on the table in the centre as I gingerly step forwards, looking up again.

"Hi, Kevin. It's nice to meet you." I say to him, not expecting anything back as he keeps staring at me, only to feel slight fear when he suddenly surges to his feet, scrambling over to the table. Once there, he grabs Jennifer's box and starts rooting around in it, pulling out a sheet of paper and a pencil seconds later, his movements erratic and rushed. I watch in fascination as he seats himself and starts drawing something, expecting us to do the same.

Looking at each other, Jennifer and I do the same thing, a brief flare of surprise lighting inside me as Kevin moves to sit directly opposite me, rather than across from me like he was before. Quietly, I pick up a pen and paper and start sketching, listening to Jennifer as she makes conversation, answering the correct questions and interacting where necessary.

The hour passes quickly, by which point I've managed to finish the drawing I started, sitting back to look at it, before noticing that Kevin is, in fact, also watching me, eyes flicking downwards towards the sheet of paper, almost as if in questioning. With a smile, I push it over the table towards him, offering the drawing to him with little confidence. He picks it up off the table, holding it up so he can see it properly, finger tracing one of the lines, folding it and sticking it in his breastpocket without a second thought.

"Hey, Kevin. That's not yours to take." Jennifer reminds him, looking at me apologetically.

"Oh no, it's fine. You can keep it." I assure her, addressing the last part to him.

He nods at me, not making eye contact.

A few months on, and Kevin and I have actually managed a conversation, the boy no longer too shy or distrusting of me, feeling mostly comfortable around me when in therapy. Jennifer has yet to leave me alone with him, thankfully, though I've overheard her talking to Dr Tomlinson about Kevin requesting for me to have a session alone with him, something which I'm not entirely sure I'm comfortable with.

Even now, as we read through another of Jennifer's books, it surprises me when he shuffles over to sit beside me, his body incredibly close to mine, as if with the intention of touching each other, but not quite doing so yet. I have a copy of the book open in my lap, giving him a perfect view of the text, as well as my crotch, which draws a small squeak out of me when he goes to turn the page for me, his fingers gently brushing against my jeans, his hand retracting as quickly as I sink back into the seat, neither of us saying anything.

But even after this, it takes a good two months more for Jennifer to finally decide that I'll be safe on my own with him, as long as there are guards outside, and either Dr Tomlinson or herself nearby to help out in case anything goes wrong. At first, I'm sceptical, but eventually I realise that my presence in the room seems to be what keeps him calm and collected, meaning I'm the perfect candidate to look after him alone.

I was wrong to be worried.

A soon as I step into the room, Kevin has stepped up to me with a broad smile on his face, soemthing which always makes me happy to see, making me smile back at him as he eagerly leads me to a place on the floor in the corner, where he sits me down. Taking his place beside me, he rummages around in the breast pocket of his hoodie and pulls out a dog-eared piece of folded paper, silently handing it to me. Opening it, I feel my jaw drop at the sight of it: it's a portrait. Every aspect is drawn perfectly, giving it it's realistic quality, though it does surprise me that he'd draw me of all people, seeing as he knows Jennifer much better. In my head, I remember what she said about him drawing pictures of everyone he cares for.

"This is amazing, Kevin! Is it for me?"

He nods, a smile crossing his face as he shuffles closer, pressing the side of his body against mine.

'Thank you. I really appreciate this." I thank him, starting when I suddenly feel his cold fingers brush against mine. Absentmindedly, they trace their way into my palm, interlocking our fingers together as he moves ever closer. Smiling, I lean back furher and pat my chest, signalling for him to lay there, which he is only too happy to do, his arms wrapping tightly around me, face buried into my midriff as he holds me close to himself.

"I have a crush on you." He suddenly states, voice muffled through my shirt.

For a moment, I don't know what to say, shocked that he feels this way about me.

"Jenny said I should tell you." He testifies, snuggling closer, before pulling back slightly to nose at the bottom of my jaw.

"You have a crush on me?" I ask once more, biting my lip when he assents, "That's helpful, beacuse I have a crush on you, too." I decide just to spit it out, looking to him for a reaction.

"Really? You actually like me? Or are you just being paid to say that?"

"Kevin, I'm a volunteer. I don't get paid at all.

"So, you actually mean it?"

"I do."

#trapped in silence #kiefer sutherland #Kevin Richter #Kevin #request #ask #answer

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nearlymanaged · 4 years

Text

13. Lily’s Revelation and A Sleeping Dog

Lily had been sitting on the floor in the Gryffindor common room, leaning her back against the edge of one of the sofas; she had assumed this position about two hours into doing Ancient Runes homework, which was proving to test both her and Remus’ willpower.

“I’m just missing about an inch…” She mumbled and Remus leaned over from his armchair to scan Lily’s parchment with his eyes.

“It seems like you're contradicting yourself here… See, because up here you said…”

“Bloody hell…”

“For how much everyone talks about how difficult sixth year is, I am deeply shocked to find myself somehow still surprised by just how hard,” he leaned back in his seat with a tired chuckle.

“What if my conclusion is that it’s inconclusive?” Lily asked, obviously not needing an answer, frowning at her essay.

“Yeah, I’m starting to suspect this was a trick assignment. If we had been--”

“You’re bleeding, Remus!” Lily snatched his forearm, careful not to touch a thin red line that was appearing on the sleeve of his shirt.

“Oh...that’s...yeah…” He retracted his limb and shuffled uncomfortably in the armchair. “It’s nothing.”

Lily didn’t say anything but rather simply eyed Remus, her eyes full of about a dozen different emotions and thoughts. This wasn’t the first time that he had fresh wounds that never seemed to have an explanation. Their appearance, Lily had noticed, was always preceded by a mysterious visit to the hospital wing which, as far as she could tell, happened every month. She knew for a fact that Remus would often spend the night or two in the hospital dormitory, although not every time. But most importantly of all, she’d observed, these hospital visits and fresh wounds always coincided with the full moon.

She didn’t tell Remus this, but before she went home for Christmas, she had spent some time in the library, looking up information about werewolves. They had been taught about them in Defence Against the Dark Arts lessons a couple of years prior so she wasn’t completely unfamiliar with the subject, but she didn’t want to assume anything.

At first, when the thought popped up in her head, it was almost jokingly that she considered it. But soon she couldn’t deny that it made sense, that everything made sense, if that were the case. Now, Lily was almost completely sure that Remus Lupin was a werewolf; she wondered how she hadn’t figured it out before, it seemed almost laughable that she had known this person for years and had no clue… But then again, they had never been friends exactly. She had never spent much time with him until the beginning of their sixth year.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Remus spoke quietly, and yet it made Lily flinch ever so slightly as she felt herself being jerked out of her thoughts.

“Like what?” She asked, flustered.

“Strangely.”

“I don’t know, it’s just how my face is.” She had decided a while ago to never bring up what she suspected to Remus. She felt that that would have been the grossest robbery of his privacy and free will. “Alright, I’ve done a good amount tonight. I can’t read or write anymore, it’s all blurring together.”

“Moony!” The voice of Sirius Black rang out through the entire common room out of nowhere and before Lily could turn around, Remus’ three friends were flocking around them.

But the unexpected arrival of the boys wasn’t what truly startled her. Moony, she thought, of course. She’d heard Remus’ nickname before on a handful of occasions but she never thought anything of it. In any case, it never came up between the two of them seeing as they didn’t spend much time together in the other boys’ presence. But it made sense. It made perfect sense…

“There’s that strange look again,” Remus chuckled, his eyes fixed upon Lily. “Maybe we should take a break from Runes over the weekend?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Moony… I mean, Remus!” She corrected herself, all the while James was making himself comfortable no more than an inch away from her on the sofa.

“Did you just call me Moony?”

“No. I mean, I guess, yes…” Lily cast a sideways glance at James, who was staring at her squarely, and scooted away a little bit, only to have him move closer again.

“Ah well you see, we call him Moony because--”

“I didn’t ask why,” Lily attempted her best nonchalant impression as she cut across Peter; she had no desire to either have his friends out him or make them lie to her. “I mean, surely, it’s because of the Moon.”

“Wait… Did you tell her?” James’ eyes bore into Remus’ face.

“I didn’t, James,” there was a note of impatience in his voice.

“Why is she being so weird then?” Sirius, who had sat down on the other side of Lily, squinted at her sideways.

“Maybe she’s seen something?” Peter offered, also narrowing his eyes at the girl.

“Do you think she suspects something?” James went on.

“She probably does now,” Remus said in a voice that was definitely accompanied by a roll of his eyes.

“Alright, alright. Are you messing with me?” Lily looked around at all the boys.

“She wants to know if we’re messing with her,” Sirius leaned to look at James over her.

“I would never!” James gasped.

“But is she messing with us?” Peter piped up.

“Are they always this insufferable?” Lily asked loudly, looking at Remus.

“No, no. They’re usually much worse. You’re not curious about what they think you know?”

“No,” Lily answered without missing a beat, locking eyes with Remus, whose face was painted with an inarticulate emotion now.

“Because you do know?” He asked after a pause, quietly; but Lily didn’t need to answer - she merely looked down at the rug, causing Sirius to let out a gasp. “Well. To be fair, I would have been a little offended on your behalf if you never figured it out,” Remus spoke again.

Lily stole a glance at him but she couldn’t make out whether he was mad or upset or relieved. “Is it true then?” Her voice came out just above a whisper as she looked up again.

“Does anyone else know?” Sirius sounded rather menacing all of a sudden.

“Don’t be rude, Sirius, she asked first,” Remus continued with the same nondescript note in his voice as he looked over at Lily; he looked paler suddenly, she thought. “Yes. I am a,” he quickly glanced around and sighed, “monster, for lack of a better word.”

“Shut up, Remus!” Sirius growled and turned to the girl again. “Does anyone else know?”

“If you’re asking if I’ve told anyone - of course not!” Lily glared at him indignantly. “But… How long…”

“About a decade, give or take,” Remus mumbled and Lily stared at him wordlessly, her eyes popped in disbelief.

“Lads, do you think she knows about the rest of us too?” Peter glanced around fearfully.

“Oi! She is here and capable of speaking for herself,” Lily snapped out of it. “And-- what do you mean, the rest of you? You’re not all...” She looked at each one of the boys.

“This one is not for me to talk about,” Remus said looking down at the book in his lap; he still seemed tense.

“Well,” James cleared his throat. “Sirius, Peter, and I are--”

“Really now?!” Sirius exclaimed. “We’re making this public knowledge?”

“Lily is not public,” James pouted.

“I think we should tell her,” Peter chimed in.

“You’re only saying that because she yelled at you,” Sirius frowned at him.

“I think we should tell her too!”

“That’s only because you’re in love with her, Prongs!”

“So?”

“Remus?”

“Sirius, this is really not for me to decide. If you’re asking for my opinion, I trust Lily completely.”

“Fine then!” Sirius sighed angrily before dropping his voice. “We’re animagi. There.”

“Excuse me, what?” Lily leaned back in shock as she stared back at him and then laughed when no one said anything. “I see, you are messing with me.”

“I personally wish we were,” Remus gave her a sad smile. “But alas.”

“Are you serious?” Lily slowly looked over at Peter and then at James.

“Yes,” Sirius answered impatiently.

Lily gasped and, without thinking, locked his forearm in a rough grasp. “I don’t believe it!”

“I know, I was surprised too,” Peter mumbled.

“But that is extremely advanced magic!” She gaped in awe; Sirius, in the meantime, gently unclasped her fingers from around his arm and moved her hand over to James’ wrist.

“I’ll say. It was a fucking drag, it took forever…” Sirius bobbed his head.

Lily knew that they were telling her the truth, but as she listened to them talk about how they managed to finally change into animals just the previous year and how they would go to the Shrieking Shack with Remus, she just couldn’t wrap her head around it.

“But… Surely, the staff know,” she mumbled as if answering her own unasked question, “but how come no one else knows?”

“The staff know about me,” Remus clarified.

“We’re unregistered,” James added.

“Unbelievable! But no one else knows about Remus?”

“Snape does, actually...”

“He does?!”

“I’m surprised he never told you, that greasy little git,” Sirius folded his arms over his chest.

“But how long has he known?”

“Since last year. Sometime around the beginning of second term, I guess.”

“Ah well, I haven’t been talking to him much lately… So your arm,” she looked over at Remus again. “Is that from...from this past full moon?”

“What’s wrong with your arm?” James’s voice was tinged with alarm while Sirius got up to his feet and leapt over to where Remus was sitting.

“I don’t have any Dittany on me!” Peter too sounded panicked.

James stood up as well and put his hands around his mouth to amplify his voice. “Does anyone have any essence of Dittany?”

“It’s just a scab that’s peeled off,” Sirius mumbled, holding Remus’ wrist in one hand and using the other to push his sleeve up.

James sat down again, both him and Peter looking relieved, while Sirius started murmuring incantations, cleaning the blood off Remus’ arm and shirt. Lily watched the scene wide-eyed, slightly dazed almost. She understood now why Sirius seemed to care so deeply and so gently for Remus. And not just him - Peter and James seemed to share that same unconditional love for their friend, that urge to make sure that he’s okay. She couldn’t keep a smile at bay at the sight.

“Well then,” Lily finally managed to collect herself somewhat. “We’ll have to work out some kind of a schedule so I can help you with notes and homework,” she looked at Remus.

“You don’t have to--”

“Don’t be stupid, N.E.W.T.s are just around the corner. You don’t want to fail anything, do you? Blimey, you’ve always been at the top of every class...”

“Well,” Remus sounded more at ease now, a small smile playing on his lips. “I’ve always had help.”

“So modest, this one,” Peter rolled his eyes with a chuckle.

“We have nothing to do with how good you are at everything. If anything, we have the opposite effect,” Sirius put his wand away and perched himself up on the armrest of Remus’ chair.

“Really now, Moons, don’t make me look like a huge nerd in front of Evans, will you?” James huffed dramatically.

“You know what,” Lily’s expression rearranged itself into a smirk as she sat back more comfortably. “I’m very much into nerds. Can’t get enough of them,” she added as the boys all started laughing at James.

* * *

“I just keep feeling that jolt every time I start dozing off…” Remus mumbled sleepily in the dark.

He had woken up with a start just seconds before and he must have made enough of a ruckus to tip Sirius off - he had asked if Remus was okay, temporarily startling him even more since he didn’t know anyone else was awake.

“We’ve got to get you some Sleeping Draught from Madam Pomfrey,” Sirius replied. “She’s offered it before.”

“I don’t need it, it’ll just make me even more drowsy the rest of the day.”

“You’ve not been sleeping though. Are you sure you’re okay?”

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

“Don’t deflect,” Sirius’ voice came out of the dark and Remus could hear a smile in it.

It warmed his heart immensely whenever Sirius said and did things that meant he cared. And the way that he cared was different - over the years, Remus had gotten really good at distinguishing between care and pity. Some of his relatives that knew about his lycanthropy always treated him as though he was fragile, as though he would shatter and explode any second. Even his own parents sometimes looked at him with eyes full of sorrow and regret that, as far as Remus was concerned, was no one else’s but his to feel. And ever since he’d had that terrifying conversation with Lily, he had been thinking back on their friendship, understanding finally why she was so nice, so kind to him.

But Sirius never once, in all the years, looked at him as if he felt sorry for him. On the contrary, when he found out about Remus’ condition, he said something along the lines of it being ‘wicked’ before he proceeded to tell him that he’d have to come up with a better excuse to push his friends away. And then he effortlessly fell into this routine of, well, caring for him. That moment, that confession, was nothing more to Sirius, it seemed, than an opportunity to prove his friendship, and he had done it every day since.

“I’m fine,” Remus drawled, “my head’s just been buzzing with too much stuff. Even Lily Evans is cracking under the pressure of sixth year, how can anyone else stand a chance?”

There was a long pause before Sirius spoke again. “How do you feel about her knowing about your furry little problem?”

“Oh, you know, the usual - just hoping she doesn’t start seeing me as a monster and slowly distance herself from me until we become less than acquaintances.”

“Moony, shut the fuck up. For what it’s worth, she took it a lot better than Peter,” Sirius whispered and they both sniggered, remembering their friend’s pale, horror-stricken face on a night a few years ago.

“She did, didn’t she? Almost too well.”

“Too well?”

“Yeah,” Remus pulled his shoulders into a shrug as he stared at the underside of his bed’s canopy through the thick darkness. “Who knows what she’s really thinking, you know?”

“I think I do know, actually. She’s probably thinking that you don’t deserve this but that there isn’t a soul in this entire castle that would cope with it better than you do, and she’s probably feeling pretty special to have earned your trust. She’s probably hoping that you don’t push her away, too.”

Remus lay there, unable to conjure any words to respond to what Sirius had said. His lips twitched, wanting to form syllables, to verbalise the mess that was his mind, but he couldn’t.

“You there, Moony?”

“Yeah…”

“I thought you fell asleep.”

“I wish.”

“Do you want some chamomile tea?”

“I’m good, thanks.”

“Are you hungry? Did you eat enough at dinner? Maybe that’s why you can’t sleep?”

“I’m not hungry, Pads.”

“Are you cold? Hot?”

“No…”

“Not enough pillows? Too many pillows?”

“Shut up,” Remus wheezed out through a chuckle.

“Alright, I’m coming over…”

“You’re what?” Remus asked, but no answer came; instead, he heard Sirius’ mattress creaking followed by some shuffling, and then a big, black dog leapt onto his bed. “What are you doing?”

Of course, Padfoot couldn’t answer and instead, he made himself comfortable at the foot of the bed, lying down across Remus’ legs.

“Unless you’re going to smother me to death in the middle of the night so I can sleep forever, I don’t see how this is supposed to help me?”

The black dog got up, turned around on the spot a few times, and lied down again, a little closer to the head of the bed this time.

“You don’t have to turn into a dog just to get out of talking to me, you know.”

At this, Padfoot lightly bit Remus’ hand, as if in place of a verbal protest.

Frankly, Remus couldn’t argue with the comfort that having another body there provided him with; Padfoot’s slow, steady breathing, the warmth of him, his presence was nothing short of soothing. Soon enough, he started dozing off again. He found himself just barely awake a couple times throughout the night, just enough to make out Padfoot's massive mound of a silhouette, before falling back asleep.

Finally, he had no idea how many hours later, he could almost physically feel himself being gently pulled out of his dreams, his waking mind finally registering James’ voice talking about Sirius. Remus fluttered his eyes open and a couple of seconds later, everything became focused and sharp as his surroundings came into view in the dimmed morning light. He realised then that he wasn’t alone in his bed - Sirius, in his beautiful human form, was sleeping next to him, only one of his feet covered by the blanket, his other leg and arm draped loosely across Remus’ own body.

“Remus, are you awake? Have you seen…” the curtain of his bed flew open to reveal James, whose face suddenly fell into a surprised expression before a smirk found its way onto his lips, “...Sirius.”

“Mornin’,” Sirius yawned and stretched next to Remus; evidently, James’ yelping had finally managed to wake him up.

“You lot finally figured it out then?”

“Figured out what?” Remus raised his eyebrows, all while excruciatingly aware of how close he was to Sirius.

“You know, your...thing. Well, I’ll be the first one to say I’m happy you did because I’ve been tired of listening--”

“James,” Sirius spoke with noticeable patience.

“What thing? Were we supposed to be fighting or something?” Remus looked at the two boys.

“Fighting…” James chuckled. “I mean, it’s obviously not just about me, but it was getting a bit--”

“James.”

“What? Is this a secret? I don’t need to tell anyone, but Peter should probably know…”

“What is he talking about?” Remus turned to Sirius, his face just inches away.

“I wish I could give you an answer, Moony.”

“What...what do you mean?” James finally stopped blabbering.

“James, Moony couldn’t sleep last night.”

“So you crawled into his bed?” James furrowed his eyebrows.

“Actually, technically, Padfoot the dog did.”

“Okay, alright, I see… Er, Sirius, could you come in here to help me with...something?” James turned on his heel swiftly and started walking across the dormitory.

“You want me to come help you with something...in the bathroom?” Sirius asked brightly as James held the door open, waiting for his friends.

“Yes.”

“Moony--” Sirius started but was interrupted.

“I want no part in this. He’s probably got something illegal in there,” Remus chuckled, sitting up in bed.

“No, I was just going to say, I slept really well. Thanks,” Sirius said as he got out of bed and then followed James into the bathroom.

Remus could hear the two boys talking quietly, almost whispering, behind the closed door, but he didn’t care much for it. Yes, his mind was still drifting over what James had said, wondering what he was talking about, but far more importantly than that, the thing that left Remus in a daze was the fact that Sirius had slept in his bed and then thanked him for it.

Unable to fight a smile away, he got out of bed and started getting ready for the day. Surely, it was going to be a lovely one.

#idk lads #wolfstar fanfiction #wolfstar #remus lupin #james potter #sirius black #peter pettigrew #marauders #hogwarts #fanfic

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kreekey · 4 years

Note

examples of people being racist toward yoko unintentionally: 1- calling her a weird stalker when they glorify/don't mind the many white fangirls who used to stalk the Beatles. 2- spreading misinformation that she lost custody of her daughter when in fact she'd won against her white crazy ex despite everything NOT in favour of her 3- bashing her for using John's glasses on the album cover she worked with John on, when they would've praised the artistry and bold statement if she was a white woman

Hey sorry I got around to answering your ask so late! You make a lot of really interesting points and I rarely hear people consider that.

1 - reminds me of a Tumblr post I saw about an obsessive Beatlemaniac stalker and people were like “me” or “bless her” haha. Definitely different when they can interpret Yoko’s actions as “stalking”. And your point also reminds me of this quote, which isn’t about fangirls but still somewhat kinda related.

“Like Yoko when she met John, Linda was a divorced woman with a daughter when she met Paul mere months later. There are stories similar to those about Yoko of her “scheming” to meet and marry Paul. In the same way that Yoko is said to have joked prior to meeting him that she was “going to marry John Lennon,” Linda joked like any woman with a celebrity crush about how she was “going to marry Paul McCartney.” (Bob Spitz notes both in his book The Beatles. Guess which one he thought was conniving, and which one he thought was adorable.)... Was it the lucky fact that Linda got the scene a few months later than Yoko, or was it her whiteness?“

And I don’t have the answer if it was Yoko’s race that made her such a target, but it’s something interesting to consider and note. [And I’ll clarify this, I'm pretty sure Yoko didn't know about the Beatles until she became face to face with one, like she wasn't a fan who got lucky enough to meet her idol. In the David Frost interview and the 1971 Rolling Stone interview, John noted that Yoko didn't know him when they met, and Yoko Ono: Collector of Skies by Neil Beram says this on their meeting: "She was about as familiar with John's work as he was with hers. "I was an underground person, and such an artistic snob," she said later. "I knew about The Beatles, of course... but I wasn't interested in them." Just about the only thing she could recall about them was the drummer Ringo Starr's first name, because ringo means "apple" in Japanese.”] Also, and this definitely wasn’t stalking, but I posted a quote from Bob Spitz’ biography where he writes along the lines of

“[Linda] always insisted that she was going to marry Paul McCartney,” [Nat Weiss] recalls, “even before she met him”... It was no accident that Linda Eastman veered into his aura. She’d taken a few polite shots of Ringo and George before “zeroing in on Paul,”... Linda had come dressed to kill. Most days she played the typical rock chick, decked out in rumpled jeans and a T-shirt, with little or no makeup and unwashed hair. But today her hair had been carefully blow-dried so that it fell perfectly forward in wing points at her chin. And she was dressed in an expensive double-breasted striped barbershop jacket arranged just so over a sheer black sweater, with a miniskirt that flattered her gorgeous legs. When she squatted down – not so subtly, in what must have been a rehearsed gesture – in front of Paul for an intimate chat, he had trouble keeping his eyes from wandering below-decks...

, and some people commented that it appeared kinda predatory/pre-planned (reminds me of some criticism of Francie Schwartz’s meeting with Paul), but overall cute and everything. At the time I wondered how people would react if Yoko did that to John lol. No way of knowing, just a thought. And also, I know Yoko sent him Grapefruit and little instructions often, I think that’s usually what people cite as the stalking, that she tried to ensnare him with it. Again quoting Yoko Ono: Collector of Skies,

For a time Yoko kept in touch with John by mailing him daily instructions-she called this Dance Event-that said things like "Dance" and "Watch all the lights until dawn" and "I'm a cloud. Watch for me in the sky." John found the instructions as perplexing as he found them intriguing.

And quoting this interview (in which she also asserts that “each and every occasion she visited John at Kenwood, it was at his invitation.”),

Despite the popular theory that Yoko was frantically inventing schemes to snare the wealthy Beatle, she was struggling with problems in her marriage [with Tony Cox] and also working hard to establish her career in the UK. Arriving in London in September 1966 to perform at the ‘Destruction In Art Symposium’, Yoko was already respected as an avant-garde artist and performer in New York, where she was allied to the Fluxus movement. She had a trained musical background, and had recently been involved in the improvisational music favoured by her peer group. She had also compiled a book of conceptual and instructional pieces called Grapefruit, and printed up a limited edition.

Yoko distributed copies to a number of influential people during 1966-’67. And John Lennon was one of the recipients. This has since been interpreted as one of various ruses on Yoko’s part to enchant Lennon.

She retorts: “There was a myth that I sent Grapefruit to him… how I wanted to trap him. It was a printed, published book. I had an orange carton of them, a lot of it. I would be giving it to critics. It was that sort of thing. He wasn’t the only one who got it.”

And by then, John had already eagerly offered to sponsor one of her shows, I think he was genuinely interested in her work. I don’t think John was actually threatened by these notes or felt he was harassed, especially since he made the jump to invite her over while his wife was away (and Yoko just thought it was a party!). He once referred to Yoko “someone that could turn me on to a million things” in the Lennon Remembers interview, he admired her art. And I know he said to Cyn that the letters were just junk from another one of those weird artists, but c’mon, what do you think John would say to his wife regarding the woman he’s romantically interested in? I don’t think it would’ve been fully truthful IMO, especially considering when John said that he nearly invited Yoko to India around that time because he liked her so.

2 is very true. Tony himself tried to make it seem like Yoko and John were crazy heroin druggies, and that's the case he tried to make (and that’s what he tried to tell Kyoko, that he was “saving” her from drug obsessed occultists). But, Yoko had gone “cold turkey” (ala the song) off heroin in 1969. This was 2 years before she won full custody in 1971.

Although neither parent had been awarded sole custody of the child, Mr. Cox became increasingly reluctant to let Yoko and her new husband spend time with Kyoko, and finally refused to permit it at all. For a year before the Lennons came to America, they had been chasing Mr. Cox and Kyoko around Europe. In Majorca, Spain, the Lennons caught up with them and spirited Kyoko off to their hotel; but Mr. Cox called the police, and a Spanish court gave the child back to him. The incident added to his fear that the Lennons wanted to take her away from him for good.

Soon after the Lennons arrived in New York, they went to the United States Virgin Islands, to the same court where Yoko had been divorced, and that court awarded her permanent custody of her daughter.

But, Tony then took Kyoko to Texas (hiding/kidnapping her) which was in violation of that court order. Then more custody battle due to Tony’s stubbornness and evasiveness, but yes, Yoko did win custody then despite everything (even though John was very threatened by Tony lol, to the point he disallowed Yoko to visit him alone in order to discuss co-parenting when that was an option and suggested kidnapping Kyoko. But then again Tony was also kinda crazy. Seriously though IMO Yoko really tried gallantly to have Kyoko in her life, and the loss hurt her. To hear people try to spin it as Yoko being the monster in the situation through misinformation is unfortunate.)

3 is hypothetical, but I do speculate that if Yoko was white, the attitude toward her would’ve been different. Sean said, “It’s intense how racist the world is. If my mother had looked like Debbie Harry, I really think the reaction would have been different.” (X) Yoko’s former partner, Sam Havadtoy, also touched on this in an interview from 1990:

Q: ...No matter what Yoko does, she’s frequently the victim of a bad press. Any idea why?

Havadtoy: After John’s death, newspapers wrote that Yoko was this selfish person hoarding John’s memory, controlling it, not willing to share it with his fans. So after two years, she puts out 200 hours of film footage and a record and they say she’s exploiting John’s memory. She can’t win.

Q: Why not?

Havadtoy: Racism. If she were blond-haired and blue-eyed, nobody would have blamed her for breaking up the Beatles. They were the darlings of the universe; she was an outsider, an Oriental, an avant-garde artist--easy to pick on. When John married Yoko, the British press wrote: “At least he will have clean laundry.” And it’s still happening. America is infatuated with Japan-bashing.

And I do think Season Of Glass was a memory thing, I posted about it here: X.

And yes, I think that much of Yoko’s criticism/legacy was rooted in that initial reaction, which was pretty sexist and racist. But I think that influence can still be felt today, in ways that aren’t obvious. And like you said, unintentional. (Before anyone gets mad, if you dislike or hate Yoko that doesn't automatically make you racist lol. But the narrative built around her might’ve influenced your opinion of her, and the narrative was kinda rooted in a racist mentality. So that’s why and re-interpreting her in a fresh light is necessary).

#sorry I know i've said something like that last paragraph many times but just to clarify y'know #yoko ono #the beatles fandom #asks #answers #long post #it got longer than i expected sorry!!#also anon sorry i left your ask unanswered so long!! hope you see this <3 #retrospective

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mila-dans · 4 years

Text

Symphony of Sadness & Chorus of Pain

Hi, everyone! This is most definitely a different change of pace and tone when compared to my normal writing. I wrote this one for me and whoever else needs it. This 7000 word piece of work deals with some very real and dark issues in a very supernatural way. Its got depression, attempted suicide, and a whole lot of self deprecation. This is a reader insert so if you dare read this, be warned that it is very dark. It does have what I would call a happy ending though.

Please realize that if you ever find yourself suffering from types of issues like this, know that you are not alone. Seek help. You have friends around you. I am here for you if you need it. I’m not the strongest but I will share my strength with you.

This was written for me to read when I am feeling down and I hope the same can go for you. :)

It wasn’t okay. You were not okay. This was it. This was the end. Your end. The grand finale of your life. You were going to die all alone. Suffer alone. The most ironic thing is the fact that no one knows. No one knows how you feel. You can’t even describe the feeling if you could. The feeling of destruction. The last straw falling. The final structure crumpling right before you. This was the end of your life. Now, it is time for you to die.

_____________________

Before the end…

You and the Winchester brothers had just taken down a couple of witches who were wreaking havoc on any man who caused them any sort of suffering. And apparently, a lot of men caused them pain. As opposed to most regular hunts, you were the lead on this one. Couldn’t have the boys ending up hexed like the other men who you all found dead in the basement.

“Gruesome,” Dean described it as the three of you got back into the Impala. “Burn witch, burn.” Dean started the ignition as you all watched in awe as the house went up in flames. It was the best way to put an end to, well, all of it.

“You alright, Y/n?” Sam asked, turning around in the seat to face you. He was referring to when you got knocked out by the witch. You hadn’t thought anything about it. It wasn’t a fatal blow. All that happened is that when you confronted the witches while the boys were investigating other parts of the house, they simply blasted you and caused you to become unconscious. Lucky you, you happened to awake right as the fighting started.

“I’m fine,” you said with a smile.

“You sure?” Dean furthered. “Like no love spell or webbed feet or anything like that?” You chuckled a bit.

“No.” You smiled. “No love spell, no webbed feet, no to anything other than a headache.” Sam smirked at you as he turned back around, grabbing a bottle of aspirin from the glovebox and throwing it in your hands. “Thank you,” you said as you shook the bottle and popped a tablet in your mouth.

They were most definitely not fast acting. Your head felt as if a bulldozer, you know, dozed it. Funny. It didn’t hurt in any one place specifically. It just hurt all over. Your mind felt fried too. You weren’t going to worry the boys or anything though by telling them how you really felt.

They had enough going on. It always seemed to be some boss battle that was bigger and more bad than the last. The pressure of saving the world was always on them. When was it going to end? When were you all going to die by some vamp or ghoul or in Dean’s case, bacon? The work never stopped. It never ceased. It always seemed to be a never ending cycle of pain, torture, death, repeat.

You were set aback by your more angsty and depressing thoughts. You usually pushed those away when you were with the boys. It had been a while since you let anything slip out of your mind vault like that. Truth is, you all had your demons. Sam and Dean really had theirs though. Even Cas. To think that yours were even as close to being as bad as theirs was just one big laughing matter. You had never talked about your small and miniscule problems with them.

What was the point? Sure you suffered from bad things but it couldn’t even pale in comparison when it came to your family’s. They had it so much worse than you. Dean was in hell. Literal hell. He suffered for thirty years and then tortured people for ten. That was horrible. The weight of the burdens that he carried was unbearable. Trying to wake up in the morning was a struggle every day for him. That was just the tip of the iceberg.

You shut your eyes for a moment trying to prevent any more dark thoughts to enter your mind. You tried to focus on the rock music that was playing on the radio. It was Bob Seger, your favorite. As a way to get further from the unusual thoughts, you decided to sing along with the lyrics of “Old Time Rock and Roll.”

“Just take those old records off the shelf!” You belted out from the backseat as you reached over to turn up the volume.

“I’ll sit and listen to ‘em by myself!” Dean sang. The two of you smiled as you turned to the disappointed Sammy who was clearly not getting into the song.

“Today's music ain't got the same soul!” You continued to sing as you hit Sam on the shoulder making him smile just a little.

“I like that old time rock ‘n’ roll!” Dean followed. “Come on, Sammy!” Dean shouted as the two of you faced the reluctant Grinch. Sam rolled his eyes at the both of you.

“Don’t try to take me to the disco!” Sam sang.

“Yeah, Sammy!” Dean smiled.

“You’ll never even get me out on the floor!” Sam sang again.

“In ten minutes I’ll be late for the door!” You added. “I like that old time rock ‘n’ roll!”

“Still like that old time rock ‘n’ roll!” The three of you sang all together. “That kind of music just soothes the soul! I reminisce about the days of old. With that old time rock ‘n’ roll!”

The trio of you and the brothers continued to sing all the way back to the bunker. It was amazing. It was really great to feel happy again. You hadn't in so long. You would’ve labeled it as depression but you knew that it wasn’t even worth some actual medical exam to say what’s wrong with you. It was nothing. Even if it was depression, you had no right to complain about it. You had no right to say that you needed help when countless other people needed help too. It didn’t matter. You didn’t matter.

You tried to focus on singing with Sam and Dean but the bad thoughts you had couldn’t help but linger in the back of your mind.

This is stupid. I am stupid. I just need to go back to singing. I am with the people that I love most and I should be happy. I’m so happy. I am unbelievably happy.

You were upset that you couldn’t convince yourself with the reassurance of lies. Instead, you pushed the thoughts down. Deep, deep down. You just continued to sing with a false smile laced on your face, hoping to feel something. Hoping to feel happy. Hoping to feel anything.

________________

Do I matter? Am I worth the trouble of being here? Sam, Dean, and Castiel say that they love me but, do they really? Do they care or am I just a burden to them? Cas has had to take on so much in his life. You were for sure just some other person that he thought he’d have to protect. Have to save. He cared for the boys. He always has. He cared for humanity. Could they even classify you as human? You’ve done countless bad things. You’ve hurt your loved ones. Sure the boys were the best examples of people who make mistakes but they are heroes. They didn’t need to apologize. They saved the world. You might’ve helped but it didn’t matter. They were the faces, the faces wearing the capes with a symbol of hope plastered across their chest. You weren’t a sidekick. You weren’t even a part of the team.

“Hey! Y/n?” Sam called. “Are you alright?” You looked up to Sam as you got snapped out of your daze. You didn’t know how long you had been standing up in the kitchen with the pot of coffee in your hand. Weird.

“Yeah, sorry,” you replied as you set down the pot and regained your composure. You gave Sam a reassuring smile.

“You sure you’re alright, Y/n?” You nodded at the concerned Sam. “I mean, I don’t mean to press but you’ve been seeming like something’s been bothering you the past couple months.” You turn your head and give Sam an oblivious look.

“Have I?” You question as you start to fiddle with the coffee again.

“Yeah, you have,” Sam says slowly. You feel his worried gaze on you but you try to quickly change the subject.

“What did you need me for?” You take a deep breath before you turn back around to face the young Winchester to give a half hearted smile. Sam looks at you with the obvious worry on his face but shakes it off.

“I um, I was going to go on a supply run. Do you want to come?” he looks at you, suspicious of how you might respond. You give him a big smile as an attempt to throw him off.

“Yeah! Of course! Just let me get my jacket,” you say as you walk past him giving a reassuring pat on the back.

___________________

“Cas!” You called as you walked past him in his room. “You need anything from the store? Me and Sam are about to head out.”

“No, I’m fine,” he responds. “Are you okay, Y/n?”

“On food?” You question playing clueless.

“Not on food.” Cas walks up to you as you stand still in his doorway. “I mean, are you alright in the mental sense?”

“I’m great, Cas!” You lie with a smile. “I’m better than ever. My head hurts just a little from getting knocked out earlier though. But other than that, tip top shape.” You nod your head once more as Cas looks at you with yet another concerned face.

“I could try and see what’s the problem in your head if you’d like?” Cas asks as he starts to put his hand towards your head. You take a fast step away, clearly giving him more reason for worry.

“No, no. I’m fine. I mean, it’s fine,” you clarify. You try to ignore the worrisome look that covers his face. “I’m gonna go,” you say with a smile as you walk away. “Bye!”

Stupid. He could’ve helped you. He could’ve seen what was going on in your head and tried to help take the pain away.

You tried to push away the thoughts as you continued your walk down the hallway.

If he helped, he would’ve seen it all. He would've seen the fear, the worry, the anxiety. He would’ve seen every single one of your little, measly, insignificant problems. It would be a waste of his time to sort through all your overdramatic issues. How could you even know that he wouldn’t just judge you right there on the spot or end up leaving you like the rest of them? I mean, everyone that you have opened up to has left you or worse. All your old friends stopped talking to you cold turkey just when you thought you could trust them. That was your fault though. They trusted you and needed you and even though you helped them, you couldn’t be honest. Of course they left you. Everyone always leaves you and it’s all your fault.

___________________

You sat in the car with your head leaned against the window. The thoughts wouldn’t stop. They were getting worse. You kept trying to push them down like you always have but it didn’t work. Nothing worked.

“Y/n!” Sam called as he lightly hit your shoulder. You turned towards him confused. “I’ve been calling your name for a minute.”

“Oh,” you say as you sit up. This isn’t good.

“You can talk to me, Y/n,” Sam says. You just continue to stare down at the ground and start to feel one of your old battle wounds on your wrist.

“About what?” You ask trying to play it off, unsuccessfully.

“About whatever is bothering you!” Sam’s tone starts to rise as he gets frustrated with your playing dumb act. “We all know that something is going on with you. You don’t even have to hide it. Sometimes you don’t even try to anymore. We are worried about you, Y/n. All of us. We thought that maybe you were just down in the dumps and would ask for help if you needed it but you haven’t.

…

Y/n!” Sam shouts as you suddenly snap out of your daze. “Will you stop that?!” You face him with true confusion. He points at your wrist. “You’re making yourself bleed!” You look down at your wrist as you notice how you’ve completely reopened the wound causing blood to go all over your pants.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. You weren’t even listening to Sam. Now look at what you’ve done!

“I’m sorry--I’m so sorry!” You mumble out as you quickly wipe the blood that has stained a spot on the seat.

“Y/n?” Sam questions with a softer tone as you look up at him with watery eyes. “Why are you sorry?”

“I--I--I just am,” you try to say. You quickly ball up all the tissues and put them in your pocket, trying to reassure yourself that it never happened. You look back up at Sam and see the concern on his face. You try to form words to change the topic at hand but fall short of excuses.

“Y/n, please,” Sam says sincerely, “Please just talk to me. Just let me in. Let Dean or--or even Cas in. Just talk to one of us. Please.” You look down at the ground again as you try to press your nails into the palm of your hands in order to distribute the pain somewhere else. “Y/n,” Sam says as he moves his hand onto yours, opening it up. “Stop it, please.”

“No!” You shout as you throw his hand to the side. “I’m fine! I’m perfectly fine! You and Dean and Castiel just need to mind your own damn business! Now quit asking if I’m okay, or if I'm alright, or what’s wrong with me! Nothing is wrong, got it?!” You take a deep breath and fall back into your seat as you wipe the tears that had escaped your eyes. You can feel the tension in the car in between you and Sam as you go back to staring out the window.

You stupid idiot! You completely ruined everything! This was your chance at asking for help and you blew it! Now you’re never gonna get that chance again. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Sam probably wouldn’t have even listened to you in the first place. He had been tortured by the devil. He had been to the worst part of hell. Do you think he had time to listen to you whine about your emotions? Do you think he actually even cared? He was your family. He had to ask about you. He was designated to do so. It is just him trying to be kind. As if he could ever care about you. As if anyone could ever care about you.

__________________

You slammed the door shut as you stepped out of the car. You raced inside the grocery store as Sam called out your name. You didn’t even bother to look back or respond. All you did was search for the bathroom as soon as you walked inside.

The further you made your way into the store, the worse your thoughts got. It was different though. It felt as if they weren’t just yours.

What is happening to me?! Why can’t these thoughts just go away?! Please, just go away!

You put the toilet seat lid down as you sat on it, placing your hands on your face as you started to sob. You felt so broken, so busted inside. You felt so much pain. So much emotion. You just wanted it to end. You just wanted it to stop.

“Honey?” A voice called from outside the shut stall door. “Are you alright?” You started to sniff as the thoughts died down just enough to understand the complete stranger who was worrying about you. You wiped the tears and opened the door.

“I’m fine, Mamn,” you said as you gave a smile to the elder lady. She smiled back at you. She seemed kind and nice. A complete stranger. You always thought that it was easier to tell a stranger secrets about yourself than someone who you knew and trusted. “Stranger’s security,” you called it.

“What’s the matter, Dear?” She asked again as her smile made you giggle a little.

“I’m just overwhelmed,” you admitted. You stood up and walked out of the stall to face her. “I just don’t know what to do.” She took your hand and immediately, you began to think the worst.

She doesn’t care about you! Don’t put your burdens on her! Don’t bother her! You are being selfish if you think for just one minute that it’s okay to open up. Think of how as soon as you admit how you feel to her, she’s just gonna make your heart break even more when you realize it’s just charity. It means nothing to her. You mean nothing to her!

“I’m sorry!” You say as you remove her hand from yours and start to head for the door. “I’m so sorry!” Once outside of the bathroom, you begin to feel completely out of sorts as you see the crowds of people staring at you as tears stream down your bright red face. “I--I…” You duck through the rows of people as you race back to the car. You open the door to the backseat and jump inside, locking yourself in as quickly as possible.

Your thoughts become so overwhelming that you are unable to follow any thread of ideas or worries. It’s all one big mess of problems and fear, as the walls in your head collapse in on itself. It was all you. It was all falling on you. You had no idea what was going on or why this was happening. You couldn't even think straight. You could only close your eyes and be engulfed into the sadness and pain.

____________________

You heard the car door open, drawing your attention away from your abundance of overwhelming thoughts. You look up to see Sam get into the car and turn to see you. You were clueless to see how much of a wreck you looked like but you didn’t have to know. The expression on his face said it all. He started to open his mouth to probably try to console or comfort you.

“No, Sam,” you said, stopping any words before they left his mouth. “Please just take me home,” you requested as you slowly turned back into facing the seat, feeling the darkness pull you closer to it.

You are worthless. You are nothing. Look at Sam. You think you have problems? Sam has spent his whole life living in fear. Living with truly overwhelming problems. He has to stay alive so that he can be there for Dean. Be there for Cas. He can’t choose to die, to give up. He doesn’t have the option. People need him. People rely on him. He has a brother and a best friend who loves him. He carries the world on his shoulders and never, ever gets a break.

You once again become caught up in your empathetic thoughts. Your mindset was in complete chaos. For some reason, you couldn’t just think about you, you thought about everyone else and all their problems. It’s as if you could feel whatever they were feeling and think whatever they had thoughts. Impossible.

____________________

You sat on your bed as you stared at the plate of food that was set before you. You couldn’t eat. You didn’t want to eat. It’s not like you wanted to starve, it’s just, you didn’t care. You didn’t care if you were hungry or if you had to eat. It didn’t matter. You didn’t matter.

“Y/n,” Dean calls out as he opens your door and walks inside. You were out of it, again, not even noticing his knock. He takes a seat on your bed as he puts the plate of food on your nightstand. “Not eating?” He asks.

“Not hungry,” you respond. You would try to give a false smile but you are unable to do even that. He looks at you, clearly trying to read your face. You just pulled up your knees close to your body, wrapping your arms around them

“Sam told me what happened, Y/n,” Dean says. “What’s going on?” You can hear the care and concern in your voice. If anyone knew about demons it would be Dean. He was one after all.

Sure, tell Dean what’s bothering you. Have him laugh in your face when you rant and bitch about all your little problems. It’s not like he’s ever able to. He has to hide all of his problems. He has to haul them all up and lock them down, never getting to deal. He can’t deal. There is never a single second in the day that he has to relax or has to calm down. Sam always says that he can talk to him but putting his burdens on Sammy wasn’t right. They were his burdens. All his. It was up to him to carry everyone else. It was all on him. He had the weight of the world in one hand and the weight of everyone else in his other. He didn’t have time to care or worry about himself. It would be pathetic to ask for help. Childish to need someone to lean on.

“Y/n!” Dean shouts. You open your eyes as you take notice of Dean’s hand on your shoulder. You swat it away and stand up from the bed.

“Get out of here, Dean! Leave me alone!” You shout. Dean gets up quickly as you push him out the door.

“Y/n! Whatever is goi--” You shut the door on Dean and lock it before he has a chance to finish his words.

You slump down with your back against the door, falling onto the ground. The floor was freezing against the back of your legs. You didn’t care. It didn’t matter. You didn’t matter. You were nothing. You are nothing.

_________________

These men save the world. You save nothing. You aren’t worth saving. Most of the people that they save aren’t worth it. But you? You are at the bottom of the barrel. How you have made it this far in life is perplexing. You should be dead.

You laid in bed as the thoughts and feelings kept you awake. You couldn’t move. You could barely breathe. These thoughts, they weren’t just yours. They were Sam’s thoughts. Dean’s thoughts. Cas’s thoughts. You were being clouded by their emotions. It was a mix of all of their pain and all of yours.

He rebelled against his family, against his home, and for what? So that he could watch everyone that he loved fail?

What did he do when he wasn’t in control? Who was having to clean up his trail of messes?

It was all on him. Everything was on him. It was his fault that they died. Hasn’t it always been?

Death. It was his fault. It was all their fault. It was all your fault. Worthless. Stupid. All on him. It was all caused by you. The world would be better off without you. He meant nothing. You were nothing. Die. Die! Die! Die! Die!

“No!” You screamed at the top of your lungs. “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” You screeched as you shattered the plate of glass on the floor, cutting your hand, causing so much more pain. You continued to yell for the thoughts to leave your head.

“Y/n! Stop it!” Sam yelled as he kicked in your door. You struggled to breath as the dark thoughts consumed you.

Worthless. Nothing. Piece of trash. Nothing. You should be dead.

“No!” You continued to scream. Dean tried to walk closer to you but you swatted him away. “Don’t touch me!” You screamed at the boys.

“Cas! Do something!” Dean demanded. The angel walked closer to you but you knew that if he touched you, if anyone touched you, if anyone tried to help, it was all over.

“Don’t!” You shouted as you reached for the angel blade and immediately all the hands went up in defense. Castiel backed away as you walked slowly towards the door.

“Y/n,” Sam tried to say, walking closer to you. “Please, put the weapon down.”

“You don't’ underst--shut up! Shut up! Shut up!” The thoughts continued to pound in on your head. You didn’t even notice the tears streaming down your face or the ones that the boys had. You just continued to try and stop the thoughts, the voices, the feelings and emotions. You raced down the halls and out the door as quick as possible.

“Stop it!” You mumbled as you found a clearing behind a tree in a small wooded area behind the bunker. The thoughts wouldn’t stop. But now, now they were all yours. Just yours.

You are nothing! You are less than nothing! You deserve to die! You deserve to go to hell! It’s where you belong! You’ve done wrong, you’ve done bad! There is no saving you! There is no point! You should just die! There is no point in a maggot like you taking up space in a world that is far too good for you! Just die! You already cause so much death around you, why don’t you just end it?! Just do it. Just die! You are nothing. You are useless. You are worthless! You are unimportant! You are hated! You are stupid! Self-centered! Idiotic! You are dead!

You feel the emotions clouding your judgement. You see the angel blade. There is no stopping it. This was the way. The way to stop the thoughts. This was it. Your hand trembles, tears fall.

NOTHING! WORTHLESS! MEANINGLESS! STUPID! YOU ARE--

You take a deep breath and open your eyes. The angel blade falls from your hand.

“They stopped,” you whisper. The voices have all stopped. You wipe your eyes and stand. Your headache leaves. It’s all gone. You weren’t dead. You didn’t know what you were or what happened. You still feel the pain but it was just yours. It was only the pain that you’ve carried for years. The pain that you can handle. You still have tears fall down your face but it’s not as bad as it was.

You walk back to the bunker and open the door. You slowly walk down the stairs as you see Sam, Dean, and Castiel run towards you. When you make it to the last step, you give a smile their way and then collapse to the floor.

“Y/n!” Dean shouts as he rushes to your side. You just continue to smile, unable to see them through your watery eyes. Sam puts his arms underneath you as he scoops you into his arms.

“It’s okay,” Sam says as he carries your body into the infirmary. “It’s okay.” He lays you down on the bed as you just shrivel up into a little ball. You hear them talk amongst themselves but unable to make out what is said. You see your trench coated companion walk close to you as he lays his hand on your head. Sam takes a seat in a chair facing you and Dean sits by your feet on the bed. Dean places his hand on your leg, trying to comfort you and Sam takes your hand, doing the same. Castiel removes his hand from your head as you begin to close your eyes.

“Y/n,” Castiel starts to say. You can hear the shock in his tone. Whatever it was, he was lost for words.

“What is it?” Dean asks. You shut your eyes tight as you hear the three of them walk out of the room.

You try to sit up in the bed and manage to wipe the tears from your eyes. Fully able to see, you watch the boys walk back into the room.

“What?” You ask quietly as you see the amazed expressions on their face. Dean rushes over to you and wraps his arms around you. The second he lets go, Sam comes to your side to do the same. You feel their arms around you and feel pure joy and love for just a moment. Once the two of them go back to their positions by your side, Castiel pulls up a chair next to Sam. Worrisome thoughts fill your head again. “What’s going on? What happened?” You ask as tears stream down their faces causing you to cry from just feeling the sadness radiating off of them. “Please tell me what I did. What?”

“You--uh,” Dean starts to say as he looks at you with tears continuously falling down from his eyes. “How did you do that?” He says with an exasperated breath.

“What? What did I do?!” You question, shifting in the bed as you can’t help but be filled with concern.

“The witch hexed you, Y/n,” Cas says. You notice the tears coming from him as well.

“Wh--what did she hex me with? Wh--what?” You look in all the boys’ eyes as you become overwhelmed with the sight before you.

“She cursed you,” Sam pauses as he takes a breath and clears his throat, “She cursed you to feel everyone’s pain.” All of the boys look at you as if you should be dead. You realize that that is exactly what they must be thinking.

“How did you do that?” Dean asks again.

“Do what?” You ask in return. You take a deep breath and look down at your wrist to the wound. “What do you mean she cursed me to feel everyone’s pain?” You look back up to Sam in search of an answer.

“It’s what killed all those men,” Sam states.

“What do you mean?” You again ask.

“The witches,” Cas starts to explain, “They killed all those men by hexing them to feel the pain of those around them. They all died because of suicide or because of a fatal panic attack. Y/n, you got put under the same spell.”

“If--if I did,” you start to say, “Then how am I alive?” You look at the boy’s lost expressions on their faces.

“The spell wore off after twenty-four hours but, Y/n,” Cas says, concerned, “You are the only person who has ever survived it. You are the only one who has ever lived through it and made it out alive.” You think for a moment about what he just said. It made sense. All the thoughts that you were feeling weren’t just your own.

“You felt all of our pain,” Sam says.

“How did you do that?” Dean asks. You look in their eyes, realizing that even they couldn’t take their own pain most of the time.

“You took all of our pain and felt it for yourself, Y/n,” Cas says.

“How did you do that?” Dean again asks. You laugh and smile a little.

“That’s the fourth time you’ve asked that Dean,” you say with a smile. He just looks at you in awe. “The truth is, today just felt like a really bad day. I have dealt with that pain, my pain, all my life.”

“But--but that was our pain too,” Sam says. “You felt all of our pain. You felt hell? Lucifer?” Sam asks and you nod. “And that isn’t bad to you?!”

“I always thought that my problems were nothing compared to yours, all of yours. You’ve all been through so much that I’ve always hid my problems. Today, it just felt as if those problems and feelings broke out.” You wipe the tears away from your face and muster up another smile.

“You deal with pain like that every day?” Dean asks.

“Basically.”

“Why haven’t you told us?” Castiel asks.

“Why didn’t you ask for help?” Sam questions.

“Because it’s my burdens, my pain, not yours. And I figured that I had already wasted my chances in asking for help,” you answer. “You all have done so much, been through so much, I have been through nothing. I am nothing. I am worthless even when being compared to your shadow.”

“Are you kidding me?!” Dean shouts. “Y/n, do you not realize that you have taken on all of our burdens, all of our fears, our pain, our emotions? You did all of that and are still here! You are the strongest person in the world! You are not worthless. You are amazing. You are beautiful and special and incredible!”

“You should never compare yourself to us,” Sam says.

“You can’t ever compare your problems to our pain,” Cas states. “There is no scale in the universe that can measure who has it worse or who has it better. Every single person has different pain tolerances, different perspectives. For you to be dealing with all of our collective pain and still think of it as a bad day, that is what I mean when I say pain is immeasurable.”

“Y/n, why on earth would you not tell us about what you’ve been dealing with?” Sam asks. You look at him and smile.

“I’ve wanted to,” you say. “I’ve wanted to for so long but I’m terrified.” You take a deep breath and wipe the tears from your face. Dean reaches up and takes your hand in his.

“Why?” Dean asks. “Why would you be afraid to tell us anything like that?”

“Because I can’t know if you’re real! I can’t know if you are just gonna be another person who says that they’re gonna be there for me then just disappear! I can’t go through that again. I’ve had my trust broken, shattered countless times that if I put myself through that again, I don’t know if I could take it.” Your voice starts to waiver as you begin to sob again. Sam scoots his chair closer to you as he wraps his arms around you. You lean your head on his shoulder as you feel Dean squeeze your hand tighter just as Sam hugs you tighter.

“It’s okay, Y/n,” Sam whispers in your ear. “It’s okay.”

“But I don't want to be a burden,” you state as you close your eyes as more tears fall onto Sam’s shoulder.

“You’re not a burden,” Castiel states. “I saw and felt your feelings, Y/n. You should never feel that way about yourself.” He reaches for your other hand and grabs it in his.

You remain in the clutches of all three of them. You are with your heroes. Dean has your hand, holding it in the both of his. Castiel holds your other hand, squeezing it in the most compassionate way possible. Sam keeps you in his arms as you place all of your weight onto him and continue to bury your head into his shoulder.

“You are not worthless,” Cas says. “You are not nothing. You are not stupid. You are not idiotic. You are not self-centered.”

“You are the furthest thing from it,” Dean adds. “You are amazing. You are incredible. You are worth so much. You are worth everything.”

“You are worth saving,” Sam says. “I don’t know what I would do if you died, Y/n. You are the person who makes me happy. You make all of us happy. You can always ask for help.” Sam releases you from his hug so he can look at you. You open your eyes and see the people who keep you going. The people who inspire you to be strong, stay strong. These people are your world. They are your everything and for them to say that you are theirs, that is the best compliment that you could ever get.

“Never, ever think anything but the truth about yourself,” Dean orders.

“But the truth is,” you say, “I don’t know if I can believe you all. I have been told by so many people who I love and look up to that I am stupid, manipulative, that I am nothing. Those thoughts and feelings of self depreciation are carved into my heart. Wired into my mainframe. Every time I try to be happy, every time I try to let go, I get a setback. I fall down.”

“Y/n, those people that you say thought bad of you,” Castiel starts to say, “They didn’t love you. They don’t deserve your love. They don’t deserve any part of you.”

“It doesn’t matter what they say or what you did or who you did it to,” Dean says, “Here, right now, it is us and it is you. And I promise that we love you. We love you so much, Y/n. We love you with your burdens and all.”

“And I promise,” Sam states, “That no matter how many setbacks you have, no matter how many times you feel depressed or down, I will always be there for you. We will all be there for you.”

“If you want a shoulder to cry on,” Dean says, “I’ve got two.”

“If you need someone to listen,” Castiel explains, “I have till the end of time to listen.” You start to sniffle and smile.

“That’s our girl,” Dean says as he brushes the hair away from your face.

“And if you ever need someone to talk to,” Sam smiles, “There is nothing that I would rather do than to be here for you.”

“Hey! That rhymed,” you state with a smile and a giggle.

“Yes, yes it did,” Sam says with a laugh.

You look at your heroes. You look at your friends. You look at your family. You have countless reasons to be sad. You have such a big vocabulary of harsh words that you have been called and could call yourself but the truth is, none of them are true. You can believe that you deserved it then but under no circumstances can you believe that you deserve anything less than the absolute best now.

“You are beautiful, Y/n.”

“You are magnificent.”

“You are giving and ask for nothing in return.”

“You are the one who saved me.”

“You are the one who shows me kindness when I need it most.”

“You are the one person who always makes me feel better.”

“You are selfless.”

“You make me laugh.”

“You are a hero.”

“You are extraordinary.”

“You are the best.”

“You always make me smile.”

“You make me feel good about myself.”

“You are the representation of good in the world.”

You are gorgeous. You are amazing. You are wonderful. You! All you! You are worth it! You are truly spectacular! You are incredible! You are perfect just as you are! You deserve to be happy! You deserve to be loved! You deserve to live the life you want! You deserve so much because you have been through so much! You deserve to get double the amount of love that you share! You deserve a crown! You deserve gold! You are too good for this world! You are a spectacle!

You are loved.

You feel overwhelmed with joy, real, true, joy as Sam leans forward to give you a hug. Dean leans to your side and wraps his arms around you. Castiel comes from behind you and squeezes you tightly in your clutches. You were the most loved and appreciated person with three amazing people all pouring their love into you. It is exactly what you deserved and so much more.

You were going to have setbacks. You were going to have bad days. You were going to feel broken, lost. You were going to feel down. But I promise you, they are real. The people who love you are real. There are so many. Your affect on the world may seem miniscule to you but it's not. You can save the world. You make it better everyday. You may save the people who save the world. You matter. You help the world turn. Even when you have bad days, you will always have someone who will want to be there right with you. They will want to suffer with you. They would do anything for you. Never give up.

You must know: you are loved, you are not alone, you are worth it, and you must always keep fighting.

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Thank you for reading! Never doubt yourself or think you don’t deserve love! You do! You deserve so much! And more!

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