H!!! I feel so efking weird right now.. so, like I have a sister who’s like 2 years younger than me, and she’s like the complete opposite of me too so she’s super outgoing and talkative and everyone loves her or whatever (no I’m not jealous, I’ve worked through that so I could become comfortable with who I am) and I’ve had suspicions that she lost her v-card, but like she hadn’t confirmed it until an hour ago. The struggle is real. Cause like, now I’m literally the only one, aside from my cousins middle school and down in my family that hasn’t lost it and I’m 21 and it feels like I shouldn’t be last but like goals and anxiety keep me from really even being social and having a relationship so like my v-card is fully in tact, and I don’t know how to feel. On one hand, I’m super happy that she was comfortable and safe with the guy she did it with, on the other, the guy’s made her cry so much that I hate that it was him, and I’m glad she felt like she could tell me (I was stressed and she knows I worry so she waited until after I took my tests to tell me) but like. I don’t know I feel bittersweet about the whole thing, like I feel like I should have gotten it outta the way already but also I know that it’s not something I want or need right now because my whole goal is to graduate from college and I’m so close!!! So I dunno what I’m feeling, sorry this is very ranty and weird, I just- I’m stuck….

ahhhh i know what you mean. i’m sorry that you’re going through all of that though, it sounds like a lot of inner turmoil >;( virginity is a tricky subject. like, when i was younger i had a mindset of ‘i wanna get rid of this rn’ but that led me to losing it too young when i was def not ready to a Bad Guy lmao so all i can really advise is just don’t rush into choices and take your time (which it sounds like you’re doing already so go you). there is genuinely genuinely genuinely no rush. 21 is still so very very young and i know that it’s so cliché but it’s really true. if your priorities are elsewhere rn then maybe just put it on the back burner until you have more time to think about it. idk! you didn’t ask for advice but i started typing and now i’m here omg so sorry feel free to ignore all that. either way, that sounds like a hard time and i hope you feel better soon

Hello, I am participating in Lent for the first time, and I struggle a lot with sloth so I wanted to focus on that. Do you have any ideas for what to add/give up to combat sloth?

Welcome, beloved! Lent is such a blessing and I'm so happy you're here. You've already done so much by reaching out and wanting to prepare! Here are some thoughts:

First, I'd advise being really clear with yourself what you're struggling with. Lots of mental health issues (especially ADHD and depression) can be identified as laziness, and measuring productivity under capitalist standards puts a judgement on rest. Ask yourself what you wish you were doing, and what's preventing you from doing it. Are you setting realistic standards? Are you burnt out? Do you not have the coping skills/executive function/support to do your daily tasks? Are you purposely not doing anything with your life, or are you struggling to do the things you need to do? I trust that you know yourself, and I'll accept your self-judgement of sloth, but perhaps investigate it further. Laziness doesn't come from nowhere, and knowing more about why you're falling short can make a lot of difference.

This might seem counterintuitive, but scheduling rest/leisure can be life-changing. If we push ourselves all day, every day, and we find that we're constantly distracted or taking naps or putting off tasks? Well, we probably need something! Obviously many people don't have much choice in the pushing-themselves department. Sometimes we're just surviving. But if it's available to you, set aside time. If you always end up playing video games instead of working, set aside half an hour do play video games. You'll have that guilt-free leisure time, and then can get back to work. In my experience: Schedule breaks as well as work, otherwise the breaks will happen during the work. If you don't find a time to rest, your body will choose for you.

I'm not completely up to snuff on my deadly sins, so I looked up sloth, just to see how it's interpreted. One thing I kept running into was this idea of a lack of care. I don't know what specific things you're struggling with, but perhaps ask yourself what you do care about, in both good and bad ways. Are you caring about your own time more than others'? Temporary comfort more than long-term goals? What are you passionate about? Where does your attention lie? Or maybe: what do you want to care about that you don't? We can't force ourselves to care, but we can be more present, we can learn more about things, we can recognize where we want our attention to lie. "What am I being lazy about?" might not be a helpful question--it also might create a lot of guilt (the bad, roadblock kind). "What do I want to pay attention to? What do I want to prioritize?" might be more useful.

It sounds like you're already there, but just in case: The advice a lot of people need (including me) is to set specific goals. In past years I've said things like, "This Lent, I'm going to be a kinder person" or "I'll give more to charity." This is all well and good, but what does this mean? How do I live that out? What measurement am I using? If that kind of statement is helpful/inspiring to you, then go for it, but for many people, the specific goals are the ones we can accomplish. "This Lent, instead of buying Starbucks in the morning, I'm going to donate that amount." "I'm going to write down one thing I did every day for someone else." "I'm going to set aside 15 minutes to pray every morning." These statements are actionable, and we can know when we've accomplished them.

For you, I'd be cautious saying something like "I'm going to be more productive." Go back to that knowledge of why you're falling short. What are you missing? Your more specific goals might include scheduling rest, or learning new coping skills, or completing to-do lists, or resisting the urge to lay in bed at least once a day, or responding to emails the same day you receive them. Even if they are more general, like "being more present in my work," how can you document and think about that? Maybe you'll journal every day about how you made a difference, what's better in your life when you're present and productive. Maybe you'll choose one aspect of your life/work each week to pay attention to.

Other ideas/questions:

Is there something specific you default to when you're bored/distracted, like watching TV? Give that up! See what your life looks like without that habit!

What's something that you consider sloth that could be transformed into community? Share the extra dessert with your coworker, invite your friends over for a movie, take a day off of work to care for someone in need. Rest can be shared and joyful, and can create space for good works.

Document what specific things you come up against, and what you're doing to combat them. Hold yourself accountable. Even if you spend forty days writing down what you meant to do and didn't, that is self-knowledge and being present. That is a practice.

How can you ask for help? Maybe you want to talk to a therapist to learn coping skills or help with executive function, or maybe a friend could hold you accountable or do a task with you. You're not in this alone.

Reckon with the guilt you may experience. Are you feeling overly guilty about little things? Is guilt helping you recognize your flaws and inspiring you to grow, or is it holding you in pain? Is your guilt coming from hatred, or love? It might be all of the above. Sit with that. What guilt are you going to listen to, and what guilt are you going to move on from?

Sometimes sloth is holding onto things, like money or time or energy, when they could be going toward good. What are you grasping too tightly? What is God asking you to live through and let go?

What's something you've always wished you were doing, but never got around to? Learning a new skill, reading a book, volunteering. Now might be the time to do it! Start knitting! Join a political action group! Expanding the useful tasks that we can do can help us move on from inaction.

How does your sloth manifest, and what is its opposite? Action? Productivity? Energy? Alertness? Sometimes combating sin means embracing its opposite. How can you find that?

Always remember: Lent is the road to Easter. It's not a self-help book or a new years' resolution, it's a practice. It's forty days out of our years that we set aside, that spend in our own deserts. And no matter what, Easter is on the other side. We acknowledge our faults and give up things and focus our attention, and we do this because there is Life in our future. There are forty days of Lent and fifty days of Easter, every year, again and again. If we do nothing at all, if we change nothing and give in to all our flaws, time still moves, Easter still arrives. We, scarred and hurting, always have resurrection. You can't fail at Lent. You cared enough to ask reach out, and even if that's all you do--if all you do is think about Lent, think about what you're struggling with--Easter is for you. You don't have to do anything to deserve God's presence or joy.

However your Lent goes, whatever practice you find, whatever further struggles you discover, God is with you. Remember that you are dust (created and transformed, with a great capacity to love, with God ever beside you), and to dust you shall return (rest follows work, joy follows sorrow). May the road rise up to meet you.

<3 Johanna

you know, I honestly don’t think there’s such a thing as a “talentless” person. like, maybe you can barely draw a stick figure, and you can’t carry a tune to save your life, and you have the athleticism of an aging sea cucumber. whatever! you could be incredibly Bad at every new skill you try but that still does not make you talentless!

maybe your talents are just not the kind you can show off in a talent show. maybe you're exceptionally good at pouring a soda so it fizzes right to the top of the glass but never spills over. maybe you give the best, warmest, most healing full-body hugs ever. maybe you can always tell when someone is having a hard day no matter how good they are at hiding it. maybe you notice how beautiful the reflection of traffic lights looks on wet asphalt when no one thinks to look. maybe you’re magical at getting babies to stop crying. maybe you can make the perfect pot of mac and cheese. maybe cats always trust you right away.

the point is, i don’t think I’ve ever met a person who’s not at least a little bit extraordinary in one way or another. maybe you’re the kind of person who’s frustratingly average at pretty much everything and you just long to stand out with one thing but you feel like you're destined for eternal mediocrity. guess what? it's really cool that you can do any of those things at all, and skills can absolutely be developed if you really commit to it, and also who knows how many smaller hidden gems are inside of you, waiting to be discovered? maybe one talent is seeing all the little things that make you special. and seeing the little things that make someone else special. maybe the talent that matters the most is just loving yourself, and making other people feel loved too.

i admire a lot of people for their skills/talents, but what makes a person truly, truly admirable to me is the way they carry themself and the way they treat other people. most of us realize that love is a choice as much as it is a feeling, but what we sometimes forget is that kindness is as much a skill as it s a quality. you can learn to be kinder, to yourself and to others. you can develop more compassionate thought patterns. you can cultivate the type of energy you want to give off to people. i think the kindest people i know are really good at being kind because they practice it every day. it's a skill they've developed, a talent they've earned, over years and years of trying.

someone can have the most impressive skills in the world but incredibly rancid vibes, or they could be virtually "talentless" but have an infectiously positive energy that makes it impossible not to smile when you're around them. of course, most of us fall somewhere in between. we're decent at some things and terrible at others. we're rancid on bad days and positive on good ones. but either way, our choices matter. how cool is it that we can decide "i want to get better at X" and we can learn and practice and actually get better at it? mastery isn't achievable for everyone, but improvement is possible for anyone.

and in the same way, we can say, "i want to be a better person" and we can break bad habits and grow and actually become a better person. perfection isn't achievable for anyone, but growth is possible for everyone.

Hear me out.. How do mercs behave around a person they have a huge crush on?! :D

AAAAAA this one is so cute, i’m in love!! 🤩❤️

-

Scout:

literally a fucking DORK around you. tries to impress you constantly with anything and everything he has, ranging from his skill set to his appearance to his personal belongings and much more.

always finds excuses to spend time with you and it can be the most asanine ones in existence. oh? you have free time tomorrow? let’s go take a run down the street. you miss your puppy that got lost when you were a kid? let’s go to the ends of the earth to find it.

made you borrow his jacket/shirt once because he accidentally spilled a drink all over your shirt. once he saw you in it, he nearly died and didn’t want it back. takes it back anyway due to his pride and though he seems outwardly okay with it, he secretly doesn’t wash the clothing for a long while.

his flirtatious behavior around other people goes down immensely. scout becomes strictly loyal to you once his crush grows stronger and can’t bear the thought of talking with someone else, even if you don’t like him back. it just doesn’t sit with him right.

Soldier:

soldier is much softer and kinder around you. he restrains himself from using any harsh words that could hurt your feelings and tries to slow down on your training.

shows you his pets!! one of his prized possessions that he won’t allow anyone else to touch, like ever. he trusts you to love and take care of them the same way he does.

everyone has to respect you. if they even give you a slight problem, he’ll get on their case about it and probably give them hell before they could even mutter out an apology. you deserve respect and he’s gonna make sure you get nothing less.

lots of supportive comments from him! even if it’s something small, he’ll grin at you proudly and yell out a, “good job, cupcake! you did great!” while giving you a strong pat in the back or an approving nod.

Pyro:

pyro is usually sweet and kind with a certain crowd and tries to do the best they can for others, but with their crush? it’s a whole different story. they’re absolutely head over heels for them.

like a lovesick puppy; they will follow you wherever they go with a skip in their step. like, i mean they’ll follow you everywhere. “no, pyro you can’t follow me to the bathroom-!” they don’t really listen but patiently wait outside anyway.

one of the many mercs who won’t hesitate to show affection and sees nothing wrong in it. runs up to them and holds their hand firmly with a happy hum, hugs them more than usual, and just straight up gives you all their attention.

Demoman:

oh boy, if tavish has a crush on you, he’ll show it when he’s absolutely wasted. demo will literally smother you with affection regardless of where you both are and literally latch onto you every second he gets a chance to.

lots of drunk ramblings; he’ll lay his head on your shoulder or lap while he mindlessly slurs about how amazing you are, what his favorite thing is about you, and so much more.

it’s pretty obvious at that point demo likes you so you admit your liking to him pretty quick and it’s funny how shocked he gets. “ya knew i liked ya?!” yes, demo, they did.

when he’s sober, he’s much more shy with it and controls his actions a lot more. apologizes for his behavior while drunk. tavish exhibits more gentleman behavior, from opening doors to making you a decent dinner and just basically ensuring your comfortability.

Heavy:

heavy is very mature and will accept his feelings pretty quick compared to the others. it’s a 50/50 chance with him; if they feel the same, that’s great! if they don’t, then.. he’d have no choice but to move on. that’s how life works.

once he does accept it, be expecting a lot of mother hen behavior; he literally watches your every move to make sure you’re safe and healthy. even if you are, he goes out of his way to give you things whenever he knows you’re around; a homemade meal, a blanket, probably some candy. your smile is already more than enough to make up for the little things he does for you. 

no one will ever dare to hurt you around heavy (or just in general, really). he senses danger and issues pretty quickly, so it’s easy for him to detect any bad intentions. he’s like that scary bodyguard who looms behind you, glaring at anyone who radiates rancid vibes to scare them away.

Medic:

probably takes a while to accept or realize it cause he’s always so preoccupied in his lab, being busy and all. but once he does realize it, it’s sort of foreign to him at first, so of course, he goes to heavy to speak about his emotions. after being told it was a crush, he pays attention to you a lot more than usual, sometimes even without him noticing.

he gets all giddy when you’re around and although it’s not the jumpy, squealing giddy, it’s certainly one shown through happy greetings and continuous conversations that seem to be never ending. (you don’t mind though)

makes up random appointments and checkups for the smallest things just to see you and gets very, very excited whenever you decide to come to visit him without his knowledge. nearly drops everything just to attend to you.

he talks to archimedes so much about you that his precious pet basically knows who you are based off his owners reactions and automatically flies to you whenever you enter his lab. that bird is a lot smarter than you think. they get along with you pretty well and medic melts whenever he sees you talk to his birds like he does and play with them.

Sniper:

bless his heart, the poor man will literally faint around his crush. just the sight of them flusters him to his core, and don’t even get me started on their little habits and that godforsaken smile. [hes literally almost died when they grinned at him]

he’s already so reserved and quiet as he is, but around them, it’s even worse. he’s always so scared he’s gonna scare them away or say something stupid, but he eventually lets go of the fear and tries to muster up the courage to talk to you.

once he does, he spends a lot of his time with you, often inviting you out to drive around with him or just simply sit outside and enjoy the breeze. he talks a lot more than usual and though he doesn’t completely open up about his past just yet, he does indirectly hint that he trusts you more than anyone in his life.

lots of sleepless nights when he realizes he’s in love. he does everything to take you off his mind but all fails in the end and he’s kept wide awake thinking about what you two could be. from then on, it becomes increasingly difficult to keep his cool around you and silently begs you’ll confess one day or he’ll lose it.

Engineer:

sweetheart mode: activated. like it’s not a big switch up, since he’s naturally a gentleman but it’s noticeable enough. you’ll notice that your nicknames will start slowly forming to more romantic ones and how he blushes with a smile everytime it leaves his lips.

the other mercs can tell when dell has a crush; he blushes a lot more than usual and they catch him smiling more than once by himself. they realize it when you approach him and he automatically fixes himself to look presentable without a second breath. his voice also changes to a much happier and giddy tone, it’s so cute!

stares at you from a distance a lot or whenever you’re distracted with something. half of the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing so but once he catches himself, he blushes and looks away, silently telling himself to quit it. often you’ll catch him staring at you, but you ignore it for his sake and laugh to yourself when he smiles back and waves shyly.

Spy:

takes a long while before he actually accepts the crush, seeing that he’s a very secretive and reserved person but once he does, you best believe you’ll be spoiled and loved by this man. lots of gentleman behavior!! opening doors, buying you gifts, giving you his coat, and all that fancy stuff.

teases you a lot more than he should; he enjoys your reactions. he’ll lean in close enough where your fingers brush slightly, tilt your chin up when he talks to you and makes intense eye contact while doing so. whenever he gets too close or the moment gets too tense, he backs away with a smirk and pretends as if nothing happens.

he listens to you and anything you have on your mind. his door is literally open for you 24/7 and even if you come knocking at 3 am, he’ll let you in and listen to what you have to say. you think he’s not listening cause he’s very unresponsive but when you’re finished and about to leave, he gives really good advice and tells you quietly that he’s there for you in an indirect way. depending how close he is to you, he’ll let out an experience or two about him to put you at comfort and as thanks for confiding in him. he then walks you back to your room with a simple nod and goodnight.

Unchanging

Synopsis: He was content with the simplicities life had to offer, while you sought out the world.

Pairing: Saiki Kusuo x artist!reader

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3.6k

You first heard of him back in your second year of high school. There was nothing about Saiki Kusuo that stood out to you, but your good friend, Yumehara Chiyo, thought otherwise.

“Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince? He’s so dreamy that I can’t keep my eyes off of him. He’s so cool and mysterious,” your friend blabbered. If by cool and mysterious, she meant cold and aloof, then you completely agreed. 

Even the popular pretty girl, Teruhashi Kokomi, seemed enraptured by him, despite Saiki’s unwillingness to shower her any attention like every guy in school. She never told you about her crush on him, but it was obvious through her body language alone that she was smitten by the pink-haired boy.

You didn’t understand their fleeting infatuation for someone they hardly knew - never experienced the feeling of falling hard for someone from the depths of your soul that they were the only person you could think about. And you were perfectly content with that. You had bigger dreams to achieve than a small high school romance that wasn’t guaranteed to last long anyway.

The Okinawa school trip was an outing that all the second years in PK Academy were looking forward to, you included. Although you had a feeling that your friends, Chiyo and Kokomi, had different intentions for tagging along. 

They must have been so elated that the three of you ended up in the same group with the boy they liked.

You carried on disregarding Kokomi and Chiyo’s painfully obvious antics to spend time with their beloved prince charming until later that evening when you decided to take a walk outside the hotel alone. You convinced yourself that a late-night stroll would be an enjoyable pastime, but really, you wanted to get away from the love-struck fantasies of your two friends who were oblivious of the fact that they were both pursuing the same boy.

You don’t know how long you’ve been wandering around, but by the time you returned, the hotel had disappeared from your sight. Two recognizable figures stood by a large hole torn on the ground. A battered ship had risen from the gap where the building used to be.

Toritsuka Reita from Class 2-2 stood next to your pink-haired group member while Saiki had a hand directed at the ship, indicating that he was the one causing it to float midair. Your jaw dropped in disbelief at the sight before you.

Saiki turned his head in your direction as if he knew you were there all along. He kept his usual blank composure, although you could recognize the wary look in his eyes as he stared at you. Toritsuka panicked upon the realization that you were there to witness the whole scene.

You didn’t know how you should've reacted when the two boys told you of their psychic powers. 

“I won’t tell a soul,” you promised.

‘I know,’ Saiki’s voice echoed into your mind.

The rest of the trip went by smoothly after that incident. Kokomi subsequently spoke out about the crush she had on Saiki, and Chiyo announced that she had fallen for Kaidou Shun. 

You shook your head in wonder at the orange-haired girl. It was astonishing how quickly she was able to abandon her feelings for one boy and move on to someone else so quickly.

You realized that love was brief and ever-changing like the ticking seconds on a clock. There was no point in wasting time on such a fickle emotion when the only thing you would devote yourself to were your ambitions for the future. 

Nevertheless, a subconscious bond had been formed between you and Saiki after you learned his secret. 

You shared a glance with the psychic from afar as Kokomi relayed to you the dream she had of the boy she liked.

He was kinder and a lot less indifferent than you originally thought. Saiki wouldn’t admit it, but you would notice the subtle acts he performed to help out a troubled stranger and the small deeds he initiated to prevent harm from coming across the people around him.

 You finally acknowledged Saiki as a friend after he deliberately shared his umbrella with you during a particularly rainy day.

‘Good grief. I was feeling generous today, so this is nothing. Just make sure to come to school prepared next time,’ he had told you after you first rejected his help in worry of troubling him.

You found out much later that he could have stopped the rain with his abilities.

The empty café was tranquil save for the scratching of your pencil as you scribbled on your sketchbook. Saiki sat across from you, paying you no attention just as you did to him. His usual stoic expression was abandoned as he blissfully devoured his coffee jelly.

“I have a dream. After high school, I’ll travel around the world for a bit. I’ll join a bunch of art competitions and win a bunch of awards. Then eventually, I’ll go to an art school in New York so I can major in Illustration. And maybe I might even make a best-seller manga one day,” you mused.

‘Isn’t it a little too early for us to think about the future?’ Saiki retorted.

“Maybe. But I’ve had this dream for as long as I can remember.”

Art class was the subject you looked forward to the most in school. Not only because you excelled in many art mediums, but also because you took pride in the techniques you honed over the years of endless practice.

For the day’s lesson, you were to pair up with one person in the class and draw each other’s portraits. You casually looked around the room in search of anyone available.

From the corner of your eye, you noticed Kokomi rushing up to Saiki with an excited smile as she called out, “Saiki, do you want to-” a majority of the boys in class crowded around her before she could say her piece. Saiki walked up to you instead, asking if you wanted to pair up with him. 

You glanced briefly at Kokomi, feeling a tad bit guilty for stealing her choice of partner while she was being surrounded by her group of fans hoping that she would choose one of them. But you couldn’t bring yourself to reject the pink-haired boy’s request.

Taking a seat from across each other, you adjusted your easel so you could get a better view of Saiki’s face. Despite the red tint dusting your cheeks from the intimacy of his peering gaze, you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from him. You perceived for the first time that Saiki was actually quite good looking.

You looked down at your page so you could sketch his appearance: the antennae on his head, his green glasses, soft pink hair, slender neck, smooth lips, chiselled face, sharp eyes. You looked up to take a quick peek at him again. 

 The constant blinking on his impassive face made your eyes widen in amusement and you frantically placed a hand over your mouth to prevent a snort from escaping.

‘Why are you laughing?’

“Because you’re blinking so much that it looks ridiculous,” you explained with a chuckle.

‘I have to keep on blinking so my x-ray vision resets. I’m trying to get a look at your face.’

You let out another coy giggle despite the heat rushing to the tips of your ears. He looked down at his paper to continue his piece with a warm smile barely present on his face.

You concentrated on your own illustration, marking down his affectionate expression before Saiki could return to his blank face, and showing it off as soon as you finished.

‘Not bad. Now take a look at mine.’

He flipped his paper over, exhibiting an intricate and beautiful portrait. The focused expression he depicted on your face while you drew him looked so alluring. You almost didn’t recognize it as your own, even though it was practically a mirror image.

"This looks way too realistic for someone who's trying not to stand out."

'It should be fine if it's you.'

You didn't understand what he meant, but his words caused butterflies to flutter in your stomach.

‘I need your help,’ A familiar voice spoke in your mind.

You jumped in surprise at the unexpected appearance of the pink-haired boy you had grown fond of. Your sketchbook flew out of your lap, falling right at your feet.

“How did you know I was here?” You asked with a huff.

‘In case you forgot, I can hear your thoughts. I know that sometimes you like to come here to the school rooftop during lunch.’

“Oh,” you uttered. “Well, since you came all this way to see me, what can I do for you?” You raised an eyebrow in curiosity.

'I need you to help me reject Teruhashi.'

You pursed your lips in uncertainty.

"Kokomi is my friend, and as her friend, you can't expect me to hurt her feelings."

'As my friend, you can't expect me to lead her on when I don't ever intend on returning her feelings. She'll get hurt either way. All I'm asking is for you to help me avoid her so she'll get over me.’

You knew he was right, but you were still unsure of meddling in a situation you weren't a part of, especially when it involved the feelings of your close friend. You looked out the window in contemplation.

“Why are you asking me? Mikoto would be a better choice.”

‘I trust you more, so it has to be you.’

You ignored the churning in your stomach as you casually threw your hands up, giving in to his request.

“I’ll see what I can do.”

‘Thank you.’

Saiki bent down on one knee, reaching out to grab your fallen sketchbook. 

“I can pick that up myself, you know, or you if you wanted to help me that badly, you could’ve done that levitation thing you always do.”

‘I know.’

He held the book out, watching you through his glasses while he knelt by your feet. A saying Chiyo once told you a long time ago reverberated at the back of your mind: “Don’t you think Saiki looks like a prince?”

You gripped the sketchbook in his hand. Saiki’s gaze burned on your orbs as your image reflected off his green lenses. Neither one of you let go, even when your fingertips brushed against one another.

“What colour are your eyes?” You wondered.

‘Violet.’

“Major in Economics at Sayftee University and major in Literature at both Komman University and Ahvraj University,” you read out Saiki's school survey. “These are all surprisingly in character for you, but do you really have no dreams beyond living an ordinary life?”

‘I’m too busy thinking of ways to stop the volcano eruption to worry about my future.’

“You have a point there. Any luck with that?” you inquired.

Saiki shook his head.

“I guess that means we’ll be second years again.”

You didn’t keep track of how long time had been looping, and you found that you didn’t really care since you were already accustomed to the familiarity of your seemingly endless high school life. You were happy, even if it meant that the dreams you’ve been chasing for so long were slipping farther away from your grasp with every day that passed.

‘No, it’s about time I put an end to this.’

Saiki’s determined expression was embedded in your mind.

Your screams of disbelief were muffled by the pillow you held against your face. 

You had vowed to yourself since you were young that you wouldn’t grow attached to anyone. After all these years, you had to go back on your word just when you were about to leave.

Now was not the time. Not here. Not with him.

Kokomi and Chiyo took it upon themselves to pay you a visit after you skipped school for five days without notice. The dark circles under your eyes and your sunken face visibly worried them.

“I’m in love with Saiki,” you murmured, gazing sullenly at your blue-haired friend. “I’m sorry.”

Kokomi’s face fell, but she showed no signs of surprise.

“I already knew that. It was obvious with the way you always look at him,” she lamented. Kokomi cupped your balled fists in her hands and looked at you wistfully. “He rejected me a few days ago, so you don’t have to worry about hurting my feelings. I think you two would look good together.”

You felt tears threatening to spill over your eyes. Whether it was from relief that Kokomi accepted you so easily or pain from your unfortunate situation, you didn’t know.

“I’m leaving Japan after we graduate,” you disclosed.

A dejected silence fell upon you three until Chiyo spoke up, “For how long?”

“An indefinite amount of time.”

“Are you ever coming back?”

“I don’t know.”

Their glum faces only worsened your mood.

“Why have you been avoiding me?”

You tensed at the accusing tone directed at you. Saiki’s piercing gaze was pointed at your shrinking figure.

No matter how much time had passed since the loss of his abilities, you doubted that you would ever get used to the sound of his voice resonating out loud, or the enchanting shade of his eyes, even if they looked dangerously menacing at the moment.

“I wasn’t avoiding you. I was just busy studying for exams and doing other stuff,” you explained weakly.

Saiki’s deadpan expression indicated that he didn’t believe your lie.

After a few minutes of squirming underneath his scrutinizing gaze, you gave in and told him your worries, “I’m leaving the country soon. I think we should stop talking to each other so that it won’t be so hard for us to say goodbye.”

You pushed past him. You didn’t know where your feet planned on dragging you, but you figured anywhere was fine so long as you could get away from him.

The familiar warmth of Saiki’s hand wrapped around your own, stopping you from taking another step away. You didn’t dare turn around as you felt your heart thumping wildly.

“I won’t ever ask this of anyone else, so I’m begging you not to push me away,” he pleaded. He placed your hand over his chest, giving away the heavy pulsing of his heartbeat.

You could never say no to him.

Memories of the last few years ran through your mind as you smiled at the nostalgia. You took one final glance at your high school building before turning your back on it, striding towards the exit. 

You stopped at the sight of a familiar figure standing under the shade of a cherry blossom tree. Saiki must have known that you were staying much later after the graduation ceremony, all thanks to his restored powers.

‘Good grief. Were you really planning on leaving without saying goodbye?’ His voice resounded in your head.

You didn’t respond as you watched the wind blow through his hair, the sun illuminating the affectionate smile on his face, the violet obscured by his green glasses, and the petals dancing around the two of you as they fell to the ground. The timing was right. The mood was right. Everything was right.

He rubbed the back of your hand while you reached out to intertwine your fingers with his. The warmth that radiated off his skin felt like home.

He knew, and you knew that he did. After all, you could never hide your secrets from a psychic, no matter how hard you tried. However, you couldn’t bring yourself to tell him how you felt.

“Goodbye,” you pulled away from Saiki.

What was the point of confessing your feelings to someone you would never see again?

Paris, France was one of your destinations out of many. Most people romanticized the capital as the City of Love, but the only reason you were even there in the first place was to visit the Louvre, the world’s largest art museum. 

Influenced by the art and the romantic ambience, you sketched out the scenery around you, deliberating how you could embody the city on paper. If you were to draw a picture of love, what would you envision? 

Maybe, it would look like pink locks tousled by the spring breeze, or the reflection of your eyes searching for violet orbs through tinted green glass. It might have been the lingering warmth on the fingertips of someone who trusted you enough to share their deepest secret, or the gentle smile that was reserved only for you during the most intimate of moments.

Your love was constant and unchanging. You realized that now. No matter how much time had passed or how many countries you visited, you always found yourself thinking about home.

Ever since you were a young student in junior high, you had hated the thought of giving up on your dreams to pursue a flighty, insignificant relationship. Six years ago, you threw away your chance at love to focus on your aspirations. There was no point in thinking back on what might have been. You shouldn’t have.

 You made a name for yourself through the many art competitions you joined, winning a few awards here and there. A while back, you finished your Bachelor's Degree in Illustration at a famous art school in New York. Things were coming together quite nicely.

Your high school days almost seemed like a lifetime ago. The memories that used to be the center of your universe, the laughter you shared with your friends, and a not so ordinary boy with psychic powers were at the back of your mind. Everyday life without the only person you've ever loved became the norm for you.

You recently got a job offer from a famous publishing company in Japan after you posted a short comic that blew up in popularity. The editor in chief sealed the deal with you after you sent him a promising draft for a manga you had planned out. 

It had been years since you’ve been to the country, but your return and the nostalgic surroundings brought back old recollections that made you feel like you were a teenager again.

The chief took it upon himself to give you a tour around the company, showing you the work environment and the employees. He guided you through the different floor levels, offices and workrooms, and acquainted you with the higher-ups. But he had yet to introduce the editor you would be working with.

"There he is."

The chief led you towards the figure of a man who had his back turned to you. The pink tuft of hair on his head and the silly-looking antennae shaped into joysticks poking out of his scalp were noticeably familiar. But you couldn’t believe it.

He turned around, green-tinted eyes boring into yours with the same neutral expression you used to see every day. Even when you had anticipated who it was, you couldn’t help the breathless gasp that escaped your lips.

"This is Saiki Kusuo. He will be the editor in charge of overseeing your work,” the chief introduced to you.

You took the hand Saiki held out for you, shaking it courteously. His blank expression didn’t fade, but his eyes softened under your gaze. The warmth on his grip was just as comforting as you remembered, like the welcoming embrace for a loved one returning home. 

Neither one of you let go.

"Well, since it's already after work hours, you guys should grab dinner and get to know each other. You'll be working closely for a while, after all," the chief suggested before leaving you and Saiki alone.

A hushed silence washed over both of you as the world disappeared before your sight. The image of a cherry blossom tree on a sunny spring day was evoked in your mind.

He sat next to you in a secluded booth of the café you used to frequent, away from prying eyes. 

"What happened to majoring in Economics and Literature?" you asked.

Your body was angled in his direction while you engaged him in conversation. Despite the many years apart, you and Saiki had fallen back to the easygoing relationship you once shared.

'I finally had time to think about my future, and I realized that this is what I wanted.'

“You wanted to be a manga editor like your dad?” you prompted.

‘Not quite.’

Saiki was composed as usual as he turned to face you.

'I have a dream. After you accomplished your goals, we would find each other again and spend the rest of our lives together. And maybe we might even make a best-seller manga one day,’ he mused.

Your heart was beating rapidly in your chest. The words you couldn’t bring yourself to say on the day of your graduation poured out unthinkingly from your throat.

“I love you.”

He placed a hand on the back of your neck, closing the distance between you.

‘I know.’

Your lips crashed into his, moulding perfectly as they moved against one another. You gripped his shoulders, pulling him in as he snuck an arm around your waist. Your eyelids fluttered shut, relishing in the sweet sensation of his taste.

You only pulled away minutes after to catch your breath. His forehead leaned against yours, the tip of your noses barely skimming each other. The look of adoration in his eyes revealed that he felt the same way.

No matter how long he waited, your love for each other was unchanging.

Is This What It Feels Like?

Prompt: Ahhh ur hurt/comfort is so good, if u want could you maybe write Patton not taking not taking care of himself and Janus helping him out and staging an intervention?

Thanks for the prompt babe! It is Project Onto Patton Time™ apparently.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: allusions to self-destructive behavior and depression, sympathetic everyone

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic I don’t care

Word Count: 2473

 Look, it’s not that Patton doesn’t think taking care of yourself isn’t important, it’s just that…well, there are a lot of other things that are, you know, more important.

Like, he has to make breakfast for everyone. Breakfast is the most important meal of the day! And they’ve talked about it; he likes doing it, the others like waking up to a good homemade meal every morning, so he has to do it. And that’s making it sound like such a chore, he has to do it, but Patton loves making breakfast for the others!

 Roman or Logan will help him most mornings. He’s not the earliest riser in the Mindscape so it isn’t uncommon for him to come downstairs to see either one of them in the kitchen. Logan always gets the coffee going first, glancing over his shoulder to say good morning and ask if Patton wants any. Normally the answer is no. But sometimes the answer is yes and Logan makes the perfect cup of coffee. Or when Roman is downstairs and there’s a mug of warm milk with just a dash of vanilla syrup waiting for him. And a Roman hug. Roman gives the best good morning hugs.

 So no, making breakfast for the others isn’t a chore, Patton enjoys it! And it’s so nice to see everyone in the morning too.

 It’s just that…well, sometimes, when it’s grey and his room feels like it’s frozen in an old black-and-white picture, the thought of food makes his stomach turn, and moving feels like it’s going to take every single ounce of his energy and more.

But that’s only sometimes! And it normally goes away after a few minutes of walking around so it’s fine.

 Or when he gets to spend time with everybody and go on the walks in the Imagination! Roman and Remus are really good at their jobs, okay, and it’s always a surprise to open the door and see what’s going on. The castles and the forests, and the streams and the animals that Patton can actually pet because Thomas’s allergies don’t perpetuate all the way to the Imagination so it’s all good! Even Logan can’t argue with that.

 Roman made this beautiful field of flowers the other day and they got to spend all afternoon out there. The sun wasn’t too warm, the breeze wasn’t too fast, and the flowers looked so pretty and perfect and there were so many colors and it was wonderful. Remus had the great idea a few hours in to make a thunderstorm and although Patton’s not the biggest fan of thunderstorms—they’re awful loud sometimes—it was truly magnificent.

��The sky has darkened to an almost bruised purple and the rain had been warm, so warm and it smelled so, so good. Big muddy puddles had formed and they’d been splattered with mud from jumping in by the time they tromped back to the Mindscape.

 Times like that are so important for Patton so of course he’s not going to miss them!

 Even when he can’t see all the colors and the smile he puts on feels a little like it’s been attached to his face for him, he’s still going to go because the joy is real, it just…takes a little longer to get there.

 Or when he has to take care of his kiddos.

 …they’re not perfect. They all know they’re not perfect. So there are…little hiccups.

 The world isn’t always the nicest place to be. Patton knows that. But…but it could be, so they have to do their part in helping make it a little kinder. So Patton tries to always make the choice to be kind, even when Thomas can’t.

 Virgil, just because of who he is, is prone to being a little more scared than the others. So it’s okay for him to look to them for reassurance, they’ve said so. And Patton is always happy for Virgil to come and ask for help, or even if he notices he’s looking a little more jittery than normal which is…often. But then he gets to help Virgil and that’s wonderful.

 Or Logan, who…struggles with reconciling his logical trait with the fact that he’s still a person under all that logic which means he’s got feelings. And he’s allowed to have them. So Patton can help with that! After all, feelings are part of his job, he wouldn’t be any good at it if he didn’t know what he was doing.

 Or Roman, who’s still struggling with…a lot. Whoo, Roman’s still carrying some heavy loads that he doesn’t really know how to put down. And he bruises really really easily. Through no fault of his own! So Patton can take care of him a little more, patch him up, make him feel a little less like he doesn’t know what he’s doing.

 The others are newer. Patton’s still figuring out how to help them when they’re upset. Remus in particular, just because of…things, Patton’s not exactly sure that he’s always doing the right thing to help Remus, But he knows Remus wants to be listened to, so he listens. Even if sometimes he thinks that some of Remus’s ideas are…scary, he’ll still listen. Because Remus wants to be listened to.

 Janus is…difficult. Patton’s never been very good at telling whether or not he’s lying. Whether or not anyone’s lying, really. Because, well…if you constantly assume the worst of everyone, that says more about you than it does about them, doesn’t it? It may be safer to not let yourself be kind, but…but that takes some of the joy out of life, doesn’t it? But Janus wants Thomas to be safe, so Patton talks with him about how to do that. That seems to help make him happy.

 So yeah. There are things that are very, very important to Patton. And he’s happy to make sure he does whatever he needs to do to make those happen.

 So it’s okay if sometimes he feels like he doesn’t have all the energy he needs to comfort one of his kiddos. Or when one of them knocks on his door in the middle of the night and he can’t keep his eyes open. They’re his famILY, of course he’s going to take care of them. They’re so important to him, they’re so important.

 He does get…a little frustrated with himself sometimes. Because he knows it’s not as easy as wham, bam, you’re all better, now you’ll never have issues ever again! Like, no, that’s not how this works. He knows that. So it’s to be expected that sometimes it’s a two-steps-forward-one-step-back kind of thing. Progress isn’t always linear.

 So he shouldn’t be feeling a little frustrated when Virgil can’t get all his words out in coherent sentences and his brain won’t stop muttering that he should know this by now, why can’t they just have all the words, because that’s rude. Virgil needs help and so they’re going to help him.

 So he shouldn’t be upset when he has to reassure Logan of the same thing over and over and over again. Logan’s logical trait keeps him from being able to say that he has feelings so he can do his job, and it’s to be expected that he would seek that reassurance. So Patton should be happy to give him that reassurance.

 So he shouldn’t be upset at Roman for always turning their conversations into things that he’s just realized are problems. Roman’s trust issues mean that Patton should be grateful that Roman’s comfortable enough to share this with him and that there should be things that Roman can feel comfortable coming to Patton about. Because Roman needs to talk about these things and hear that he’s okay so Patton should be able to do that.

 So he shouldn’t be scared of Remus’s ideas sometimes. Remus isn’t going to hurt them, not seriously, so he shouldn’t be afraid. Remus is a person, just like him, so he should be able to help like he does everyone else.

 After all, if most of these are Patton’s fault, he should be more than willing to help them, right?

 Right.

 So.

 There are things that are more important than Patton taking care of himself. He can do that later.

 At least, that’s what he says to Janus when Janus confronts him about not taking care of himself.

 “But it’s fine!”

 “Yes,” Janus drawls, raising an eyebrow, “I’m sure everything is just absolutely fine with everything you’ve just told me.”

 “Well, good!” Patton flashes him a smile and turns away.

 “Wait, no, Patton—“ Janus reaches out and gently blocks Patton’s path— “that was sarcasm.”

 “Oh.” Patton tilts his head. “I don’t understand.”

 “…what sarcasm is?”

 “Oh, no, no, no, I know what that is. I just don’t understand what’s wrong.”

 “You’re running yourself into the ground, Patton,” Janus says quietly, “and it’s hurting you.”

 “But I’m fine!”

 “Let me ask you a question.” Janus folds his arms. “When was the last time you did something for yourself?”

 “Myself?” Patton tilts his head. “Oh! I helped Roman make breakfast this morning.”

 “That’s something for us, or at the very least something for Roman.”

 “…I guess. Um, I went for a walk with Logan yesterday. Have you been to Remus’s new cave system yet? They have these really cool—“

 “I’ve been,” Janus interrupts gently, “and did Logan ask you on that walk?”

 “…well, yeah.”

 “So that was for Logan.”

 Patton grumbles. “What are you asking me, then?”

 “I’m asking when the last time you did something for you was.”

 “But those’re all also for me!” Patton wrings his hands in frustration. “I—I like spending time with them! I like helping them! Why can’t that also be for me?”

 Janus raises an eyebrow. “So it never feels like a chore? Or like you don’t have enough energy to do it the way you want to?”

 Patton’s mouth snaps shut. It—it shouldn’t. This is his famILY. They shouldn’t—it should not be a problem to help them. O-or spend time with them. It shouldn’t. It shouldn’t.

 Janus nods solemnly. “That’s what I thought.”

 “But that doesn’t matter,” Patton blurts, “it doesn’t. I don’t care if it sometimes feels like I can’t. I can, so I will.”

 “Just because you can doesn’t mean you should,” Janus says quietly, taking a step closer. “If it’s hurting you, Patton, you have to address that first.”

 “But I—“

 “If one of the others were doing this,” Janus says instead, “would you be reacting the same way?”

 Oh.

  Oh.

 Patton hangs his head. “…no.”

 “So you don’t have to be so hard on yourself.” A gentle hand cups his chin and lifts his gaze. “What’s making you feel so bad right now?”

 “I—I just—this is my job,” Patton mumbles, “and if I can’t do it, if I can’t fix what I did—“

 Janus cuts him off with a frown. “What did you do?”

 “I—well,” Patton stutters, “surely you—you’ve realized that—well, one of the reasons that Thomas—that everyone is—um—“

 Janus’s eyes widen. “Oh, Patton, tell me you’re not blaming yourself for every single problem in the Mindscape.”

 “…do you want me to lie?”

 Several expressions flicker across Janus’s face at once. “No, Patton,” he settles on eventually, “you don’t have to lie.”

 Patton shuffles uncomfortably. Janus seems to pick up on his discomfort—not that a lot gets past Janus—and cups Patton’s face in another hand.

 “Patton.”

 He looks up.

 “I’m not angry with you,” Janus says gently, “and I’m not trying to tell you that your feelings are wrong.”

 “Y-you’re not?”

 “No, Patton, I’m not.” Janus’s thumb strokes over his cheek. “I’m worried that you’re going to burn yourself out.”

 “How do I…not do that?”

 “Well, when was the last time you did something for yourself?”

 “I think we just established that I don’t know how to do that.”

 Janus smiles a little sadly. “You can let us help you too, Patton.”

 “…I’m not sure I know how to do that either.”

 In response, Janus leans back and shouts: “don’t get over here!”

 “What the fuck do you want?”

 “Janus? Is everything alright?”

 “What’s going on?”

 Then, of course, Remus just sinks straight in through the ceiling and drops to the floor.

 Roman bustles down the stairs with Logan at his heels.

 “Why’d you call, is—“ his eyes widen when he sees Patton— “Sunshine? What’s wrong?”

 “Patton, are you alright?”

 “Wait, Pop Star’s upset?” Ah, there’s Virgil. “What’d you need?”

 “By all means,” Janus chuckles when the rest of them just about swamp Patton, “do knock him over before he has a chance to answer any questions.”

 “Right,” Logan says, pulling Roman and Virgil away, “let’s do that f—“

 Remus tackles Patton onto the couch.

 “…or we can do that.”

 Remus makes himself comfortable, wrapping his arms tightly around Patton and purring contentedly.

 “I’m not hurting you,” he mutters too quiet for the others to hear, “am I?”

 “…no, no you’re good.”

 “This okay?”

 “Yeah.”

 “You sure?”

 Remus is solid and warm and—and—

 “Remus!” Roman rushes forward when Patton bursts into tears. “Oh, goodness, sunshine, are you—“

 “N-no, no, this—this is—I—“

 Virgil tilts his head and smiles. “This might be just what the doctor ordered.”

 Roman huffs. “Well, then we can do better than that.”

 “Oi!”

 “Oh, please, you know how ill-suited that couch is.”

 “Fine.”

 Remus tightens his grip on Patton and rolls off the couch, turning so Remus’s back hits something way softer than what the floor should be.

 “Remus,” he hears Logan scold.

 “You alright, Pop Star?”

 Patton’s still sobbing desperately into Remus’s shoulder.

 “So’re you all just going to stand around doing nothing or…?”

 Janus gently reaches down to remove Patton’s glasses, turning the world into a colorful smudge.

 “We should talk more about this when you can,” Logan murmurs, carding his hand through Patton’s hair, “but for now, just rest, alright? From what it looks like, you’ve been through a lot recently.”

 “I’ll say.” Roman tucks himself against Patton’s back. “You look exhausted, sunshine.”

 “Less talk more cuddle.”

 “No objections here.”

 “Close your eyes,” Janus murmurs, “and let us take care of you for once, hmm?”

 “Is—is this what it f-feels like?”

 “Yes,” Janus whispers as Remus tightens his grip on Patton’s waist, as Logan’s hands gently scratch across his scalp, as Roman presses warm and solid against his back, as Virgil puts on quiet music in the background, “this is what it feels like.”

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Falling For You - Part 1

Pairing- Dean x Lisa(past),  Female!Reader x OMC Justin(past), Eventual Dean x Female!Reader

Word Count-3019

Warning- Mentions of cheating, slight angst. This is going to be a bit of a slow burn.

A/N- I had an idea for a one shot, and giving a backstory to Dean and the Reader meeting took on a life of its own. This story is AU, and un beta’d.

Summary- After being burned before you had sworn off finding love for now. Coming home from work one night there is a strange man pounding on your door.  Neither of you knew what this meeting would lead to. 

Series Masterlist

  It had been a long day at work and you just wanted to get home to your couch, although you knew that would have to wait.  The apartment needed some cleaning, and you needed to wash laundry too. You had put it off, work keeping you busier than usual the last 2 weeks, and you really should go hit the gym.  You had been slacking there too. 

The elevator was being inspected when you walked in the building so you had taken the stairs  Reaching your floor you were surprised to find a man standing in front of your door continuously knocking.  Slowing walking over you looked around, no one else seemed to be near.  Knowing the time, your neighbor across the hall, Jess was probably on her way home from work, you weren’t completely certain about her fiancé though.  The other two apartments on this level kept to themselves. 

“Hi, Can I help you?”  You cautiously asked.

“Nope.”

“Are you sure?”

The greenest eyes you had ever seen turned to look at you with a grin forming. “Thanks, but I’m just waiting for my brother to let me in, unless you want to give me your number for later?”

“I’m good thanks, but why is your brother letting you in there?”  You didn’t get any danger vibes from this guy, so you weren’t too worried about standing here talking to him yet.

“Well miss nosey, it’s because he lives there.”

“I don’t think he does.”

“Really, and how would you know anything?”  The man back to pounding on your door.

Before you could respond Jess’ fiancé Sam came running up the steps sweaty from his evening jog.

“Dude, you weren’t supposed to be here till tomorrow, and why are you blocking Y/N’s door?”  Sam unlocked his door across from you and went to hug his brother.

The man backed away from him, “Seriously man? You’re sweaty and gross, shower first. I needed to get out of there, and traffic on the way up was pretty light.  You told me you and Jess were 44.”

“No Dean, I told you we were 43. We live on the fourth floor in the third apartment number 43.  You weren’t listening,”  Sam turned to you still unable to get into your apartment.  “Sorry Y/N, this is my older brother Dean.  He just got up here from Kansas, he’s staying with us for a little while.  I’ll get him out of your way,”  He leaned down to grab one of Dean’s bags before heading into his apartment.  

Dean turned to look at you then looking at your door before he leaned down to pick up the other bag. “Oops!”  With that he headed into the open apartment and shut the door.  Shaking your head you went to unlock your own door. 

Heading to your bedroom after setting your things down,  you figured if you didn't get your workout done first it wasn’t going to happen.  Quickly changing you grabbed some laundry and went to throw a  load in the washer so the first load would be done when your workout was finished.  Very thankful to have a washer and dryer in your apartment.  Grabbing your key you headed the gym on the ground floor.  An hour on the bike left you feeling a little better, getting out some of your frustrations.  

Back inside your apartment you changed the laundry and started on your dusting and window washing before vacuuming.  Finally finished, you headed for a shower to clean off the dirt and sweat.  

All clean you ventured to the kitchen to see what you could whip up for dinner. When a knock at your door pulled you away.  Who could be here now you wondered.

Opening the door you came face to face with Mr green eyes again.  Shoot, what did Sam say his name was.

“Your brother still lives across the hall.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry about that.  I swear Sammy told me it was 44.  I just wanted to come say I was sorry for bothering you earlier.  I know the right place now.”

“It’s fine.  Have a nice visit.”

“Thanks it’s not really a visit.  I’m Dean, like he said, I’m his older brother.”

“Y/N, the neighbor.  Nice to meet you Dean.”  Holding out your hand to Dean his bigger hand engulfed it in a firm shake.

“Would you let me take you out for a bite to apologize for my first impression?”   

“I don’t know if that’s a good…”

“It’s not a date,”  He hurriedly cut in.  “It’s just, I mean, you seem like a nice person, and you would probably be a great date, but it’s not.  It will just be food I swear.  Tomorrow afternoon, or night?  I don’t know if you have big Saturday plans?”

“Shouldn’t you be spending time with your brother?”

“He has a work dinner with Jess they can’t miss.”

You thought about it for a moment.  You had been friends with Sam and Jess a little while now and trusted them, so you should be able to trust his brother.  “I’m supposed to go dress shopping with my friend Meg, tomorrow.  We should be done by 6 if you really want to grab some dinner.”

“Sounds good, sweetheart, I’ll knock on your door again then.”

“Okay, goodnight Dean.  Oh and welcome to Michigan.”  Shaking your head you shut the door to go back to your search for tonight’s dinner.  

The fridge was pretty empty, you didn’t even have any frozen microwaveable meals left.  Looks like grocery shopping just became part of your weekend plans.  Settling on a bag of popcorn, it is a vegetable of sorts, somehow right?  You finally headed for the couch and turned on the Hallmark Channel to see if there was a movie you could get lost in for the rest of the evening.  Before you know it, it was time for bed so you could get an early start on tomorrow.

It was an honor to be asked to be the Maid of Honor, right?  You needed to keep reminding yourself of this as you wandered through the dress shop the next day with Meg.  Meg was a friend from elementary school and sometimes you think you are the MoH because many others would not have been able to handle this process with her.  She could be a little blunt and rude, but you were used to this and could take the wedding craziness coming from her.  5 hours and two shops later she finally found the perfect dress for herself.  You couldn’t be happier since you had already spent two other Saturday’s out searching.    

Her fiancé Cas, thankfully had the patience of an angel.  They had met when Meg left for college in Kansas, he was a year older than her.  After graduation he had followed her back up here. Six years later, Cas finally got her to say ‘yes’. She seemed to be a better person with him around, a little kinder.  They would be good for each other and you were very happy for them.

Your love life on the other hand, was not so lucky.  Two months ago, you had broken up with your only serious boyfriend.  A night out with friends had ended in tears when trying out the new bar in town.  You had turned around in time to see a flash of Justin in a corner booth, walking over you found him lip locked with another woman.  You stood there shocked for a moment when the woman noticed you staring and commented on it.  A look of shock on Justin’s face as he quickly moved away from her and tried to explain  The rest of your drink ended up on him as you walked out of the bar.  Meg having seen the whole thing took you home and kept your now ex out when he came over to try and talk to you.  The guys you had been out with before him, hadn’t done much for your faith in men either, having made the choice to give up dating for now.  You were two years away from thirty, and had always thought by now you would have settled down.  Maybe that wasn’t in the cards for you.  

It was only a little after three so you decided to stop at the grocery store on the way home, this way you wouldn’t need to run out tomorrow.  You would be able to just enjoy a day at home.  Arriving home you pulled into your assigned spot and went to empty your car, you were one of those people who tried to carry everything in one trip.  At least the elevator passed yesterday’s inspection and was running today, or it would be a challenge carrying everything at once up 4 flights of stairs.  Although you couldn’t open your door with your hands full and keys in your pocket.  Freeing a hand you finally worked it open as the door opened behind you.  

“Need a hand?”  Turning around Dean was standing in the doorway leading to the opposite apartment.

“You don’t have to, half the challenge was getting it up here.”

“I know I don’t have to,”  As he finished talking Dean leaned down to pick up the discarded bags.  “Dinner for tonight or are we still good to go?”

“Still good to go, I just had an empty fridge and decided to hit the store today and enjoy tomorrow.”

Dean set the bags on the counter and started to unpack them.  Looking at the various items he turned to you holding up molasses and baking soda, “These aren’t your typical dinner items.”

“No, this is me getting a head start on what I need for Christmas baking. I know it’s the start of October, but December comes quick, and I like to have my baking done for my family’s Christmas party the first weekend of December.”

“You bake?”

“Yes, I actually really enjoy it.”

“So what all do you make cookies, cakes, pies maybe?”

Laughing at the hopeful look in his eye at the last item you nodded your head.  “Yes, those plus bars, and different candies.  Christmas I do the most, although not usually pie for that.  Different holidays or events vary, or when I’m in a funk and just want to get lost in my kitchen.”

“Ever need a pie tester, I’ll gladly volunteer.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.”  The groceries unloaded Dean looked around before heading out saying he would be back at six.  Glancing at the clock you saw it was almost five and decided to hop in the shower to get cleaned up.  

There was a knock on your door right at six, dressed casually in jeans, a sweater and tall black heeled boots you opened it to see Dean smiling at you. Also having gone casual with jeans and a dark green henley. “Ready to go, Y/N?”

“Yep, all set.  So where are we going Mr. Winchester?”  Dean turned, giving you a funny look, as you got into the elevator “What?”

“How do you know my last name? Been looking into me?”

“You’re Sam’s brother, right?  I kinda thought they would be the same.”

“Oh, yeah, true.  As for our destination, I thought I’d surprise you.”

You screwed up your face but just nodded.  You didn’t want to come across as rude to whatever he was thinking.  Getting in the car he turned to look at you, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”  There wasn’t much you hated more than surprises. 

“Your face said otherwise a minute ago.”

“I was just thinking about something else, all good here,”  You gave him a smile before looking out the window.

A short while later you pulled up outside a bar you hadn’t been to in a few months. Quietly getting out of the car you followed Dean inside.  “Sam told me about this place, he said it was fairly new, but the food is good.  Have you been here yet?”

“Once, but I wasn’t here long enough to eat.”  It was early enough still it wasn’t too busy yet, Dean heading over to a booth asking if that was alright.  You agreed and sat across from him. After ordering drinks and food it was a little awkward between the two of you.  This wasn’t a date, what was it.  You didn’t know the man so it wasn’t even friends hanging out.  Not wanting to sit in silence any longer you decided to break it.

“How long are you visiting for?”

“I’m working on moving up here actually, I’m staying with Sam and Jess while I look for a place and find some work.  Then I’ll head back to Lawrence with Sam and we’re going to drive my stuff back.”

“Oh wow, like the mitten state that much huh?”

Dean was quiet for a moment before answering,  it almost seemed like he was having an internal battle on how to respond.  “I needed a change and my brother and best friend both moved up here. Sam and I were pretty close growing up, and it would be nice to be near him again.  My parents are still in Kansas but have talked about moving for a while.  I can see them heading up here if Sam and Jess are here, especially if they end up having kids. I guess I’m going before I get left behind.”  There was a sadness in his eyes that told you something was missing from his story. 

“What kind of work are you looking for?”  

“I actually was in business with my dad before I left.  Owned an auto repair shop and we specialized in classic car restorations.  Dad’s keeping the shop, but I’m guessing he’ll retire in a year or two and sell it.   Going to see if anyone around here is hiring for now. How about you, what is it that you do?”

“Oh, I work at a physical therapy clinic in the business office.  It’s usually a nice 9-5 job, but we had someone leave unexpectedly in the front office so I’ve been filling in for her and trying to do my work too.  Makes for some later days.  Someone new is starting next week so once they are trained it should calm down again.”  

Dean was watching you and noticed you were doing your best to avoid looking around the bar, your focus either him or the table.  “Is there someone you don’t want to see you here?  A boyfriend I should worry about coming to beat me up?  What’s up?”

“No, nothing like that.”  Taking a deep breath you look up at Dean, “This place doesn't have great memories for me.  The one time I was here I caught my then boyfriend making out with someone else.  It was definitely a surprise, I wasn’t a fan of surprises before, but that was one of the worst I could have.”

“I’m sorry, I guess I should have checked the place with you first.”

Reaching across the table you put your hand on top of Dean’s, “No it’s okay.  I really should just get over it anyways.  It’s stupid on my part, right?”

“Not at all Sweetheart,”  Dean turns his hand over giving yours a squeeze.  “I understand to well how much that stings.”  Letting out a deep breath he continues, “I had been dating this girl for over a year.  Thought she was it ya know.  I came home from work early to surprise her one day and found her in our bed with another guy.”

“Oh Dean, I am so sorry!”

 He gave you a little smile before continuing, “It was my house. I kicked her out and put it up for sale, packed up my stuff and ended up storing it at my parents while I was staying in my childhood bedroom.  I just couldn’t stay there.  Got lucky it sold in a few months. I would see the two of them all around town and needed to get out of there.  Sammy, and my childhood best friend, Cas like it up here so I decided to give it a shot”

“Wait, Cas?  Is he engaged to Meg?”

“Uh, yeah why?”

“She’s my best friend, I’m her maid of honor.  I’ve met Cas, he’s a great guy.”

“Yeah, she’s good for him.  Takes him out of his comfort zone.  Good for them, me on the other hand.  I don’t see myself dating anytime soon.”

“Me either, I don’t have the best luck with relationships. I’m sorry for what you went though, you didn’t deserve that.”  

“Neither did you.” You both sat there taking in what the other had said. 

Dean spoke first,  “I wouldn’t mind making a new friend though.  Especially if she needs any taste testing when baking.”  

Laughing before leaning back against the booth more relaxed than you had been, “I think new friends are good.”  

Deciding it was time to lighten the subject you asked him another question.  “So what brought Sam up here?  I know Jess was from Indiana, not here either.”  

“After law school Sam had been offered a position in a big firm in Ann Arbor, which I guess is like  30-40 minutes from here.  Jess didn't want to live in the bigger city, she wanted to be in a little smaller town if they could.  She said they did big city living in California during college and could visit Ann Arbor, or Chicago from here.  Sam liked the idea of that too.  I think they are both thinking of where they want to raise kids eventually”

“This is a good town to grow up in, I did.  Why they moved here never came up in conversation. I’ve hung out with her and Meg before, and neither mentioned Sam and Cas were from the same town.” 

  The two of you spent the rest of the night talking and laughing more at ease knowing where the other stood. It was after 11 when Dean pulled back into the apartment parking lot.  This had been one of the best nights you had had in awhile.

Part 2

Thank you for reading!!

Tags  @talesmaniac89 @katehuntington @winchest09 @flamencodiva @whatareyousearchingfordean @waywardbeanie @deanwanddamons​ @smol-and-grumpy @emoryhemsworth @anathewierdo @malfoysqueen14 @superfanficnatural @jensengirl83 @atc74 @sandlee44 @akshi8278  @fantasydevil2002

For Better, For Worse II (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

Summary: In which the reader honors her vows.

Warnings: Language, Soft Ransom (is that a warning?), SPOILERS (if you haven’t watched Knives Out & you should get on that lol), bad writing, angst, flashbacks, slight violence, hints of mental illness, it’s also not proofread

Word Count: 1762

Feedback is appreciated!

READ PART ONE HERE

When you first met Ransom, he was nothing short of a complete asshole. He flirted aimlessly and got what he wanted – a true spoiled brat. You were the first girl he ever encountered that simply shrugged him off and told him to ‘get lost’. From that moment, he was infatuated with you.

You remembered how he’d walk you to class despite his being on the opposite side of the campus. He asked you out on multiple dates and you shot him down every single time. You remembered how your friends discouraged you from falling for him. Like them, you were under the notion that Hugh Ransom Drysdale was nothing but a trust-fund prick. But sometimes – and it was rare, you promised yourself – you found yourself enjoying his company.

It would be as you were walking from the library back to your dorms. You would drop your books. And like a scene straight out a movie, Ransom would materialize out of nowhere and help you pick up your belongings.

It would be at a party and your friends had gone off with their significant others, effectively leaving you stranded and alone. Ransom would wave away at his friends as he took the empty spot next to you on the wall.

“I hate Professor Fitzgerald.” He muttered to you.

“You don’t have that class?” You tilted your head.

“No, but you do. English 1302.  And I know you hate him.” Ransom smirked as he took a sip from his red cup.

“And how would you know that?” You asked.

“Because every time you’d walk out of his lecture, you have the cutest little crease between your brows.” You frowned at his words.

“I do not,” you scoffed.

Ransom only chuckled, pointing at your face. “See! Right there!”

You laughed, pushing him away. “You have it, too.” Ransom frowned, mockingly. “Aha! Right there!”

“What a pair we are, huh?”

“Fuck off, Drysdale.”

“Keep saying it enough, it’ll be yours.” He laughed.

“What?”

“My last name. Keep saying it enough, it’ll be yours.” He said, matter-of-factly.

“Whatever, Hugh.”

You remembered months after his constant ‘courting’ of you, he showed up to your dorm. It was in the middle of a Friday night – your roommate had gone to a party – and it was pouring. He was soaked from the rain and he gave you a sluggish smile and held out a bouquet of lilies, your favorite flower. You were about to slam the door in his face when he stopped it.

-=+=-

“Why don’t you want me?” He asked you and for a second, he sounded hurt. You scoffed in response as you tried to pry his hands off from wood of the door. “Seriously,” Ransom continued, “I’m trying.”

“You’re trying?” You laughed, coldly. “You’re borderline stalking me, Hugh.” He cringed as his first name left your mouth. “You’re just playing a stupid game. How much did you bet?”

Ransom frowned. “Bet?”

“Yeah. How much are your buddies giving you once you announce to the world you got me in bed? How ‘bout you just tell your friends you bagged me and leave me the fuck alone!”

“It’s not a bet, (Y/N).” Ransom shook his head, a small smile creeping onto his. “I’m not playing a game. If anything, you are.”

“How am I playing a game?” You snapped.

“Because clearly, I like you and you just keep playing hard to get. But fine by me.” He coughed a bit. You stopped trying to slam the door in his face – and possibly his hand – when you realized how pale he looked. “I’ll keep playing your game. I’ll keep putting in more and more effort ‘cause damn, you’ve got me under your spell.”

“Ransom…” you muttered as he broke into a fit of coughs. “Oh god, come in.” You opened the door wide enough so that the poor boy could come in. “Take off your clothes.”

“Woah, woah… I don’t know what you think of me, missy,” he laughed, “but I’m trying to take you out on a date first.”

“That’s a first, huh?” You teased.

“Believe it or not, yeah.”

“I’m trying to dry them, dipshit.” You laughed as he shrugged off his coat.

-=+=-

He had the world fooled that he was a complete dick, but the more you got to know him, the more you realized, it stemmed from his insecurities. His attitude was a defense mechanism because of how awful his family could be.

But with you, he was different. He was kinder and softer. And the more he let you in, the more you fell in love with him.

The Ransom you fell in love with wasn’t a monster like how the news articles said he was.

The Ransom you married wasn’t a murderer.

And yet, he confessed to you that he was.

He told you that if it weren’t for dirty cops and what was left of his mother’s wealth, he’d be locked away for his crimes.

He told you the story. And, no, he didn’t tell you any lies. Ransom was many things, but he could never lie to you. Not you. He told you the complete, unfiltered truth with all the grimy details that he didn’t even tell the cops or his lawyers.

So, where did that leave you?

-=+=-

When you first told your family that you were separating from Ransom, they were happy for you. They told you he was no good. They said that you were blessed enough that you didn’t bear his children – that nothing but your last name tied you to him.

But that wasn’t true.

Your heart still belonged to him. Every beat called his name.

So, maybe that’s why you didn’t run. That’s why you took him into your arms after he told you the story of how he killed Fran and tried to frame Marta for his grandfather’s death. Maybe that’s why you kissed the crease between his brows and told him that you love him despite it all.

-=+=-

“Your father called,” Ransom sighed as you walked in the house, arms filled with groceries. He walked over, grabbing the bags from your hands and setting them on the table.

“What he say?” You didn’t need to ask. You knew. You knew your family’s opinions about the man you married and the family you were marrying into. You knew they’d support your separation more than they’d support your reunion.

“Called me a monster,” Ransom huffed. “Oh, but what’s new, huh?”

“You aren’t a monster, Rans,” you muttered, kissing his cheek as you began to unload the groceries.

“You don’t want a divorce?” The words stunned you. Divorce. It was so ugly. The mere thought made you cringe. “That’s what your father told me to tell you. File for divorce as fast as you can before you’re next.”

The house quickly became silent as a tension filled the home. The thought hadn’t crossed your mind until a few weeks ago when you were on the phone with your parents. They talked your ear off, telling you that staying with Ransom was the worst decision you ever made. ‘You’re taking a risk just by being in the same house!’ your mother cried. ‘You’re going to be his next kill, (Y/N)!’.

You never thought you were in any danger around Ransom. Despite what the world may think of him, he wasn’t a coldblooded monster. Not when it came to you.

But the possibility was still there. Your parents reminded you of that every time you spoke.

“No, Ransom.” You said. “I don’t want a divorce.”

Ransom’s face was expressionless as he stared at you. You sighed as you continued to put away the groceries. Your father had no right to tell your husband that. Your marriage – and your decision to stay in it – was completely your choice.

“You don’t think I’ll hurt you?” Ransom blurted. You stopped what you were doing. His tone was different. It was colder. “You don’t think you’re next?” You stayed silent because you knew he was about to explode. “Because… that’s what the news thinks. That’s what the police think, too, I’m sure. That’s obviously what your family thinks – I’m sure mine think the same. Everyone thinks that I’m some coldhearted murderer and that my naïve, sweet wife will meet the same fate as the housekeeper.” His voice got louder and louder as he got closer to you. He slammed the cupboard shut, making you flinch at the sound. “So, tell me! Is that what you think? Do you think you’re next, huh!” You stayed silent. “Answer me!”

“Ransom,” you whimpered. His eyes quickly became soft as he took a step back. In his rage, he had frightened you. He scared you. He scared his one ally.

“I’m sorry.” He muttered.

“It’s okay.” You nodded. “It’s alright.” You weren’t scared at all. You understood his frustration. Everyone was assuming one thing – Ransom was a monster – and that simply wasn’t true.

“No, it’s not.” He backed away. He wasn’t trying to manipulate you into feeling sorry for him by any means. He was afraid of himself. He was afraid that on one bad day, he’d snap. He had taken one life away, what’s to stop him from killing the love of his life? Ransom wouldn’t be able to forgive himself. “I’m sorry… I shouldn’t have – “

“Ransom, it’s fine,” you shushed as you rushed over to him. You carefully wrapped your arms around your husband, stroking his back. “You won’t hurt me. It’s okay.”

“But what if one day I do?” He asked. Ransom sighed as he looked down at you. “Sometimes, I can’t help but feel angry. Like there’s something in me that’ll just snap, and I’ll lash out. And it’ll tear me apart if I lash out at you.”

“Have you said that to your therapist?” You asked him. The court had assigned a therapist that came by your home once a week. Ransom didn’t like him – or so he said he didn’t. Ransom huffed in response. “That’s something you should bring up in your next session, Rans.”

“I’m just afraid I’ll hurt you.”

“You won’t. I trust that you won’t because you aren’t a monster, Ransom. Despite what everyone might think, that’s not who you are.” He dug his face in the crook of your neck, finding comfort in your arms. “And one day, everyone will see you how I see you.”

“I love you, (Y/N).” He muttered though it was muffled. He placed a delicate kiss at the base of your neck.

“I love you too, Ransom.”

Jakurai dies! AU (part 4)

The veil between life and death isn't quite as solid as some believe.

OR: Jinguji Jakurai wakes up as a ghost, unable to move on and unable to interact with the world around him.

Dying feels a bit like floating - at first that is. You're lying in an endless abyss of nothingness and it envelopes you like a comforting blanket.

Your eyes are closed, you think, and you don't want to open them. It feels like taking a long nap, but like any nap, you slowly wake up.

It's gradual and slow. It starts with sounds, voices that you recognize but filled with emotions you can't quite place. It doesn't take long before you're being nudged to the world of wakefulness.

And that world that greets you is filled with misery.

When you open your eyes, the first thing you see is a grave. Your grave.

Jinguji Jakurai

21XX - 21XX

Beloved friend and doctor. Thank you for the leaving the world a better place.

You're startled. That's right, you're dead. So why...?

Why are you here, in the world of living when you should be in hell the afterlife?

You wander for a little bit, exploring the graveyard. The people there don't see you, can't hear you. You're unable to interact with anything and you float listlessly.

Why are you here? You're so, so tired.

The first of the TDD, of the people you love, that you see is Ichiro. He's blankly staring at your grave, crouching to eye-level with it.

"Hi, sensei."

You sit next to him. There's an aura of sadness that makes you want to hug the young boy, but you know you can't.

Not anymore.

"I... I don't know what to do anymore. It's like.. every night, the only thing I can think about is how useless I was."

You startle. There are tears in Ichiro's eyes, threatening to spill out at any moment.

"If only... if only I'd stayed calm... If only... god, sensei..."

The tears rain quickly and even as you try your best to comfort Ichiro, you can't get through.

The veil that separates the living and the dead couldn't have been anymore evident and painful, and even as desperation fuels your voice, as you feel yourself get more and more frantic, nothing works.

A b s o l u t e l y n o t h i n g.

It becomes a pattern, you soon notice. First it's Ichiro. Then Samatoki, Yotsutsuji, and Ramuda.

They visit on rotation, and fairly often too. Rarely together, and if it is, Yotsutsuji isn't there.

Your son in all but blood keeps away from Ichiro, Samatoki, and Ramuda, avoiding them like a plague.

You notice the anger, the pain. It hurts your soul to see him in such agony, and nothing you do ever gets through.

You watch Ichiro grow more and more tired with each passing week, a victim to his own grief. His brothers are filled with worry, both clinging desperately to Ichiro. You watch them plan out ways to distract their brother from his grief. They aren't getting through though, and it hurts to see, hurts that you can't hug Ichiro, can't tell him that you're proud of him, that it's not his fault.

You watch Samatoki break down more and more, a whirlwind of guilt and agony, burning up from his own emotions. His sister is gone, choosing the Chuuoku over him. You watch as his new teammates slyly pry and prod him for details, their worry growing with each passing day. You long to hold Samatoki's hand, to tell him that it was your choice to protect them. That it is a choice that you'd make over and over again for them.

You watch Ramuda lose more and more of himself, his grasp on reality loosening with every stray memory that resurfaces. You listen to his tales of his escape from the Chuuoku, his apologies for never telling you about himself. It warms your soul that Ramuda trusts you to tell you this, dead or not, but his airy voice and blank gaze worries you. His teammates often watch worriedly, and you're glad that he has someone watching out for him. You love him, and it's something you never realized until your last moments. You regret that you will never be able to tell him, that you'll never be able to hold him in your arms again.

You watch Yotsutsuji drown in his emotions, in his anger and his sadness. He does his best to imitate you, and while it would have been flattering had he been alive, you desperately wish you could tell him to live his own life, to live his best life. You recognize his teammates and you watch as they do their best to be there for the young boy, and you are so, so grateful. In truth, it's Yotsutsuji's agony that hurts you the most. Once upon a time, you'd promised that you'd be there for him forever, to hold him close on his worst days, to celebrate on his best days. You can't do that anymore, and you hate yourself for breaking that promise.

You stay by their side, moving from one to another. Each day is a different person, and despite how tired you feel, you're thankful for the chance to watch over them even after you've died. You'd once wished at a temple to spend your days with them, to be able to love and protect them with every fiber of your being. You can't do that anymore, but you try to watch over them, to get through to them.

Time passes, you don't know how much time, but you watch as the leaves turn from green to brown, as snow turns to grass. There are whispers of rap battles in the air and you quietly worry.

It's the only thing you can do, quietly worrying.

It's also then when you are greeted for the first time by someone that wasn't a friend nor a patient when you were alive.

Iruma Jyuto greets your gravestone on a sunny day.

"I... My name is Iruma Jyuto. I believe this is the first time we are meeting."

"You are quiet famous, you know? The saintly doctor of Shinjuku, Jinguji Jakurai."

"I should get to the point, shouldn't I? I... We..."

You listen patiently to the young man's words.

But can he really be considered a young man in comparison to you? You're 33, you died at 33. There is no 34 or 35, or any other age for you. You are 33 and you are dead.

"Please, please bless us in this endeavor. We really do want Samatoki to move on, Rio and I. This grief... it's breaking him apart. All of them, really. Aagh, this is so cheesy, why am I doing this..."

"Jinguji-sensei, if you're really there and I'm not just being an idiot and talking to a inanimate object, please let them move on. I know it's not really your fault, but they're stuck. Samatoki, Yamada, Amemura, and Kannabi. So, please, if spirits and whatever exists, please help them come to terms with their grief."

Iruma grumbles for a while longer before leaving. But even as he leaves entirely, his words linger.

You are so glad that they've met teammates that love them so much, but a part of you wonders if you can even help. Nothing you've done has gone through, and sometimes, you question your own existence.

As you ponder and question, questions unanswered by the gods, you watch Ichiro, Samatoki, Ramuda, and Yotsutsuji's teammates stage an intervention. It doesn't go well, not at first.

Of course you should continue on.

You aren't leaving me behind, you're continuing your own path. I'll be by your sides no matter what.

You all deserve the world and more. I would make my choice over and over again if it meant you all lived.

You watch as each division remind their leaders to live. That they are alive and he is not.

You know they will get better one day, someday. You see it in the way they smile, in the way they move with more energy these days. Their teammates are good for them and in turn, they love their teammates with all they have. It's a desperate love of people who've loved and lost many times.

Sometimes, you tell them of how proud you are, of you how much you love them.

You mean the world and more, and I would give everything to protect you.

You're all doing so well, you're all so amazing.

No matter what, I'll be by your side. Nothing but the gods themselves can tear me away.

I love you.

You don't know how much, or if at all, gets through, but sometimes, you like to think that maybe a whisper got through.

They're getting better. They have good days and bad days. The grief and guilt and anger is still there, but they're learning to come to terms with their emotions. Their teammates are their at every step, ready to catch them when they fall.

For the first time in a long time, you're content.

Ichiro will grow big and strong, becoming a responsible and amazing adult. He'll be a kinder man than you could ever be.

Samatoki will stand tall and proud, his strength protecting as many as he can. He'll be far stronger than you could ever wish to be.

Ramuda will shine bright and cheerful, his love will be intense and encompassing. His love will be stronger and fiercer than you could ever hope to match.

Yotsutsuji will become great, a legend in his own right. Someday, he'll find his own path and strive to become better than you, to become someone far more amazing then yourself.

You know they'll be okay, and that fact sits contently in your heart.

They'll be okay.

Had anyone been able to see him, they would've seen a lavender-haired man leaning back against the wall, watching the Division Rap Battle teams. There's a smile on his face, his eyes are crinkled. He looks happy.

Slowly, he fades away, leaving behind nothing to ever show that he was there.

He's gone, but not forever. Maybe he's moved onto the afterlife, maybe he's gone from existence. But in the hearts of those who knew him, of those who've loved him, and he to them, he still there watching over them.

PLEASE do in depth analyses of all of the houses for your quiz I was enraptured reading the gryffindor one and I didn’t even get gryffindor

JUST FOR YOU ANON, I am going to compile the sort of Final Breakdown of every house, in my opinion, that you get at the end of the quiz now. Theres more in-depth analysis of specific questions under each house’s tag on my blog, and you can feel free to ask more specifics of course bUT here is the masterpost of that c:

A Hufflepuff is, unlike a Ravenclaw or a Gryffindor, an internal house. I know what you must be thinking, “how can you be the house of loyalty if you’re an internal house?” Puffs have a small network, Their People, maybe friends, maybe family, maybe friends who are family, maybe an assortment of small pets or animated characters. While Slytherins also have Their People, they have resources and associates to draw from when their bored, whereas the term associates exhausts a Hufflepuff. Spending time with people they don’t love doesn’t ever sit quite right, although they will often do it in an attempt to make folks happy. Hufflepuffs yes, are a house of kindness and of love, but unlike Gryffindors when it comes down to it they don’t have to go out of their way for kindness and love. Gryffindors will seek out situations in which they can do good. Hufflepuffs good is smaller (not lesser) in which they will do as much good as they can for the people directly in their line of sight, but when granted with the great expanse of the world it is easy for them to shrink in on themselves and not be able to cope. That said, they have so much love to give out, and will often want all their love in one place, slightly selfish but mostly excited collectors of people. If your version of the ideal future is a vague image of all the people you love in your house for [insert holiday] that is a very Hufflepuff sentiment. Hufflepuffs, like Gryffindors, are inherent/intrinsic worth folks. Hufflepuffs know who they are, or at least how they define themselves. Their moral code may not be their local government’s law (and actually very often isn’t), but it does exist and is rigid, and puffs won’t go against it unless incredibly pressed. This is a point of contention with Slytherins and Ravenclaws, and even Gryffindors who feel like they have to perform/validate their identity and choices through others. Hufflepuffs are themselves, and no one else, completely and quietly. They love their People. They want to build a home for them. That isn’t to say that puffs are necessarily gentle pushovers. A huge component of Punk and Anti-fascists align themselves with Puffs because they are So themselves and So invested in the safety and well-being of their people and community. Like slytherins, hufflepuffs often know/feel they’re weird, and tend to relish in finding people as absurd and lovely as they are. They will forgive people, possibly too much. But quietly, they will shift the little orbit of the world around themselves to be a little kinder, a little gentler, for them and the people they love. Be kind to yourself. You do not have to be any bigger than you are.

Slytherins are linked to identity, changing themselves to meet their needs and the wants of the world around them. They have specific people that are Theirs, and their circle of Actual Trust may be rather small, even if their friend/associates/resources group is a wide network. Slytherins are tied to wanting, craving, and not necessarily in a bad way or in a way that’s “ambition”. Slytherins are a house made up of people who want something or someone or some goal desperately or are made up of a myriad of little wants, but also struggle with the idea of worth and whether or not they have done enough to deserve the things they want. Sometimes, these wants are secret. Slytherins are often caught up in this wanting and this worth, and cannot see that they are already loved, completely and wholly, for who they are. When you care for someone you care for them with all of you, you are inherently a protective house like hufflepuffs for those that you care about most, and for all your wanting so so so many of you are beautiful creators (the worlds and story ideas slytherins have just roaming around in their brains?? amazing!). My advice to slytherins, if I can give some without being asked hahaha oops, is to recognize that for all the shapeshifting of the self you do, you can be exactly who you want to be, if you just give yourself permission. Who would you be in a dark room without any mirrors? How would you dance? How would you dress, for just yourself? Of course, that doesn’t mean you have to change your life tomorrow. It just means, sometimes, starting in little ways, take back a little bit of ground from the world. “This part is me. This part is mine. You aren’t allowed to have it.” It can be quiet. But you are worth so much, and you are yours. You are just as much of a person as anyone else, and have already earned love, because you never had to earn it in the first place.

Gryffindors believe in innate worth, innate characteristics, sort of your personality is that way because That Is Who You Are. Similar to hufflepuffs in this way, anti-slytherin experience haha. Gryffindors, unlike Hufflepuffs, are an external versus internal change maker. Because of this, they are often more broadly idealistic than hufflepuffs (think range, although they both hold their core values very deeply, hufflepuffs are on a smaller more condensed scale whereas gryffs will spread themselves thinner. Puffs do not have to change the world, rather they create a Home in which to put their world into, whereas a lot of Gryffindors struggle with feeling that they aren’t doing Enough, not Enough good, not Enough love. That the failures of the world are in part because they haven’t done enough to help personally). Gryffindors are very solid with their identity. While slytherins/ravenclaws will see their body/their reflection in a mirror, a scientific fact of life or something they wish they could/can change and shape, Gryffindors (with some exceptions for gender, trauma, and mental illness) tend to be confused that there are answers other than “I see myself in the mirror.” However, Gryffs can be performative, because while they see themselves, they need to be told that they are going in the right direction, they need to be loved, they need to help. Gryffindors will lose themselves a bit in an empty room, in isolation, moreso than hufflepuffs or ravenclaws. They create and change the world around them FOR the world around them, and so the world can look at them and say “okay, you did it, its okay now.” In this way, they are closest to slytherins, seeking validation, seeking a legacy, even though they may not even do it/realize its for themselves. They do good, or they try to, based on how they have defined it for themselves. They will care for you with all of them, if you earn it. They will hold you. But the voice in their head says “am I sure that this is what good looks like. Am I sure that this is enough.” From your friendly neighborhood Hufflepuff, sometimes doing what you need to take care and save yourself is the best thing for the world. Maybe cook something, have a lil dance party. You are an important part of the world. Start small, and love that part the most. You can add on from there c:

Ravenclaws shape the world around them, and create, in order to create a world that better suits themselves and their goals, rather than Slytherins who shape and create/recreate themselves to suit the world, meaning they are an external house, creating and impacting in the world around them rather than in themselves. Unlike Gryffindors, the other external house, Ravenclaws do not feel as much pressure to be seen in a sort of grand legacy or entirely shape the world around them. They give and seek knowledge and creation because, in a very basic sense, they feel like they need to. In a way I’ve said it “I could not write poetry for 30 years and that wouldn’t mean I’m not a poet. I am a poet. That does not change.” But Ravenclaws will get restless if they don’t create if they don’t learn. Their legacy doesn’t mean that the whole world will remember them forever. Its that they will create/make/do something that will matter to even one person enough that they will be remembered. A lot of Ravenclaws feel tied to their Ravenclaw identity because they don’t quite know who they’d be if they weren’t the ‘intelligent one’ if you will. But Ravenclaws sometimes forget that they create beauty every day, learn things new and small every day, without even meaning to. Ravenclaws believe identity is created/forged/remade constantly as information is gathered, and often try to seem neutral, scared of sharing an opinion unless they’ve thought it through completely and are certain they should stand by it. Ravenclaws are often searching, looking for something bigger than them, as almost to prove they are small in comparison. Sometimes the best thing a Ravenclaw can do is realize that all those wonderful books and poems and pieces of art that make you dream of a fantasy world were made in this world. This place, so full of love, that gave them to you in order for you to love it back. A lot of ‘gifted kids’ put themselves in Ravenclaw, without realizing that it was the rest of the world that put them in Ravenclaw, and not something that they chose. If that’s the case, maybe now is the time to ask yourself who is it you want to be? The self is a construct loves, and a uquiz doesn’t define you. You define you. You’re so good at creating Ravenclaw friends. Create you. You’re already magnificent. You’re already worth it. Now its time to look at yourself and give some love to that self, to ask it what it wants to be. You are, more than anything else, your greatest masterpiece.

Figure It Out

Summary: The Fright Club stumbles across an injured werewolf chased out of town by hunters.

Masterlist

Word-count: 2.8k+

A/N: this caliban x fem!reader was requested by the lovely and ever-so-patient @none-of-this-makes-any-sense​ 💕 hope you guys enjoy!!

When you’re running from something, your body reaches a point where it wants to give up. Your muscles ache, your lungs burn, and all your joints cry out. Every step becomes its own misery when you reach that point - and that was without poison eating away at your insides - but your choices were to either keep running or be killed. 

The hunters had fallen away sometime during the night, and it was only after you’d made it out of the woods and spotted the broken and graffitied Welcome to Greendale sign that you realized they'd stopped following you because you crossed town lines. Their treaties prevented them from hunting on land that was already claimed. 

Greendale was claimed by the witches. No hunter, regardless of what their prey was, was allowed in Greendale, but that didn’t exactly make Greendale an accepting place. The last werewolf you’d heard of Greendale had been kept as a familiar and killed by one of the witches. The Greendale witches were why you would have kept running if you could. 

But you couldn’t. The second your mind realized you were safe from the hunters, it stopped giving your muscles the adrenaline they needed to keep going. Without pure survival to focus on, you were acutely aware of how much pain you were in. 

A trail of black blood followed you all the way from the Welcome to Greendale sign to the garage you’d broken into and curled up in. The pain had left you too exhausted to deal with the fear of being found, so you told yourself that you could deal with staying hidden if you survived the night. 

It was light out when you woke up, annoying rays of sunlight streaming through the glass on the garage, and now you had to deal with getting out of Greendale and finding your pack before the hunters found you. The problem was that, between you and the door, stood a horde of teenagers. 

They stood in a huddle and whispered furiously at each other. Not to each other; they were arguing too much and not listening to each other to qualify as whispering to each other. The sight of them would have been funny - with two being much taller than the rest and having to stoop, while one was annoyed at the close proximity, and the leader being the tiniest blonde girl you’d ever seen - if they weren’t standing between you and your escape. 

One of the shorter ones - a guy with a mess of brown curls on his head - spotted that you were awake while you were sizing them up. He patted the arm of the guy next to him - tall, blonde hair, heartstoppingly attractive - and nodded over at you when he got his attention. 

“Apologies, my lady,” the taller one said as he straightened up, interrupting the tiny blonde as he did. He looked at you curiously, not malevolently, but not exactly kindly either, “but it appears our friend has woken up.”

The tiny blonde was only momentarily irritated at the interruption, but she looked more carefully suspicious than bothered when she turned to you. She hadn’t managed to do anything to you in the second after saying ‘oh’ and turning to look at you, but your brain screamed that she was a witch anyway. 

“Uh, hi,” she said with a second-too-late smile. She took a step closer. “My name is Sabrina and these are my friends.” 

You didn’t say anything, but you didn’t like lying on the floor with them standing over you. Trying to look tougher than you felt, you pulled yourself into a sitting position. 

“Okay, well, we’re here to help you,” Sabrina said. She did her best to push past the awkwardness and connect with you. “So if there’s anything that you could tell us, maybe about how you got that stomach wound … no? Okay, uh-”

You watched Sabrina wring out her hands awkwardly as she cast a look at her group. There was only one other witch, something you couldn’t place, and then three humans. 

At least, you thought to yourself, you passed for human.

Sabrina’s friends each mumbled some awkward sentences, except for the tall blonde. He was the one you couldn’t place, but he didn’t make you nervous because of the uncertainty. He made you nervous because he kept staring at you without saying anything. 

“-Well, we can’t really help you if you don’t talk to us,” Sabrina continued, her patience wearing thin. She looked like she was going to keep going when the blonde took his eyes off you and straightened up. 

“She’s not going to tell you anything,” he said. His voice was more sure of itself than the others, clearly used to being the voice that commands a room “-because she’s afraid. Aren’t you, little wolf?” 

“Little wolf?” the shorter one with curly brown hair and the other girl asked at the same time. They were an odd mixture of offense at the pet name and confusion at the origin of the name itself. If you weren’t so horrified by the revelation, their expressions would have made you smile. 

But survival came before smiling. You set your jaw as you tried to move again, but you winced at the tugging of your injured muscles. “You don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said through gritted teeth in an attempt to recover. 

“Don’t I?” the blonde asked. He smiled as he walked closer to you, each step was as careful as the smile on his face. He crouched in front of you. “I was created in the pits of Hell; I learned to sniff out a werewolf before I learned how to talk.” 

“I don’t think a demon has the right to judge,” you said in a strained voice. 

He seemed amused by your defiance and used the moment of amusement to launch your attack. You struck out and kicked his leg out from under him. As he fell, you scrambled to your feet and bolted towards the door. 

Unfortunately, Sabrina and her horde of friends had other plans. The other tall brunette raced behind you to grab you, and it took all of your limited energy to push him away. The witches were arguing about spelling you, and the humans were worried about their friend. 

The tall blonde recovered quicker than you expected. He grabbed you from behind and restrained you fairly easily, despite your weak attempts to fight him off. Eventually, you realized that struggling was useless and decided to save your energy. 

“So that was fun,” the other witch said. He pushed some black hair out of his face and sighed, but he shot you a smile anyway. 

“Maybe because she didn’t punch you,” the brunette grumbled as his friends picked him up off the floor. 

“Maybe because I didn’t attack her,” the witch said with a superior tilt of his head. He looked away from the human and to Sabrina. “Who cares if she’s a werewolf? Let’s just heal her wounds and let her go.” 

“Let her go?” Sabrina asked. Again, she looked like she was going to argue when the tall blonde spoke. 

His voice rumbled when he spoke because he was so close to you. “While I hate to agree with Nicholas, she’s not a threat, my lady. There is no reason for us to keep her here.” 

There was still something about him that you didn’t trust, despite his advocating for your release, but you didn’t say anything. If he was going to be the one that got you out of the witches’ den, then you’d let him and deal with your distrust later on. 

“I, uh-” the short curly-haired one started uncertainly. “I agree. I mean, she’s not a threat to anyone other than Harvey, no offense. Are you?” 

It took you a second to realize that he was talking to you. He was kinder than his friends. 

“No.” Your voice was quiet but it sounded deafening while everyone waited for you to answer. Trying to sound less unsure, you added, “I just want to go home.” 

“If that’s the case, why did you come here?” Sabrina asked. 

“Trust me, it wasn’t by choice,” you said. You tried to move and the blonde tightened his arms around you. You turned to glare at him. “Do you mind?” 

“Are you going to kick me again if I say yes?” he asked. He was smiling again, not necessarily malevolently but mischievously. You realized it was because he was flirting with you. 

“Let her go, Caliban,” the witch said. His protectiveness was unusual. 

Caliban said something about how dear Nicholas was always looking out for the underdog. Whatever he was implying was clearly pointed at Nick and not you, but it didn’t sit well with you. 

Still, he let you go, and you started walking over to the spot where you’d slept when your muscles had enough of your abuse and wobbled underneath you. One of the humans caught you, the girl. 

She gave you an uncertain smile as she helped you stand. “I’m Roz,” she said. She nodded to each of her friends as she introduced them. “That’s Harvey and Theo. You already kinda met Brina, Nick, and Caliban.”

There was something about her that made you feel safe enough to tell her your name, even though you regretted it the second you were done. Then she asked where you were from and, again, you felt yourself giving out more information than you would have otherwise. 

“Why did you come all this way?” Roz asked. She seemed genuinely concerned about you. 

“My pack was attacked by hunters,” you said. “They didn’t follow me once I crossed into Greendale.” 

“Are you sure about that?” Sabrina asked. “We’ve had some run-ins with witch hunters.” 

You shook your head. “Different kind of hunters,” you said. 

You pulled your hand away from your stomach and looked at the black blood. It should have healed by now, but the blood was still thick and dark. At least it wasn’t smoking anymore, but you would still die if it wasn’t treated. 

“That doesn’t look good,” Roz said, sounding uncertain. 

“Doesn’t feel good either,” you said. You pulled your lips into a tight smile and shrugged off everything else. “I’ll be fine once I get home.” 

“Let me take you to my aunt,” Sabrina said. “She specializes in herbal medicines.” 

“Thanks, but I can take it from here,” you said. 

“Nicholas was the one that killed the wolf,” Caliban said. The casualness in his voice made you stop walking. “No one else has blood on their hands. You’re safe.” 

“I think that’s a relative term,” you said. 

“Please,” Nick said, as gently as he could, given the annoyance at his friend. Maybe 'friend' was a relative term as well. “Let us help you.” 

---

One of Sabrina’s aunts was all too pleased to treat you, but the other was less happy to have you in their home. She didn’t like dogs. You reminded her, as politely as you could with wolfsbane blackening your veins, that you weren’t a dog. 

Despite the emotional control you were capable of, if Hilda had waited for a half-hour more to treat you then you wouldn’t have been able to control the shift. The humans were handling your wolfish tendencies better than you expected them to, but your presence seemed to remind Nick and Sabrina of a memory that made him sad and her uncomfortable. 

And then there was Caliban. You couldn’t quite figure out how you made him feel. He watched you more carefully than the others, not because he was afraid of you, but because he was trying to figure you out. You liked that you weren’t easy for him to figure out, but you hated that you didn’t know what he was thinking. 

Did he think you were impressive for making it this far on your own? Was he wondering if you were a bitten wolf or if you were born this way? What had he meant when he made that comment about sniffing out werewolves - did those memories have anything to do with why he stared at you the way he did? 

The hunters attacked before you had the chance to bring the answers to those questions to light. They appeared out of nowhere, just as Hilda took out a pie (‘because she can’t send you home on an empty stomach!’), with their guns blazing. 

Unfortunately for you, the witches were on unsteady terms with their higher power. Their powers were fickle and fleeting, which meant they couldn’t be counted on for reliability in the fight. 

There were other ways to fight, of course, because the humans were still around and they were determined not to lose, but any supernatural intervention had to be left to you and Caliban. 

Somewhere in the middle of the fight, you took shelter behind a family-sized headstone. You were about to get back into the fight when Caliban appeared next to you, out of breath and with blood on his cheek.

His cheeks were flushed, his eyes wide, and his smile crooked. He looked so completely and utterly alive that he made your heart beat quicker just by standing next to him. His smile curled deeper when he noticed your staring. 

“See something you like, little wolf?” he asked. 

Deciding that if you were going to die or get out and never see him again anyway, you smiled and leaned in to touch his face. You cupped his cheek and ran your thumb underneath his eye. 

Pulling your hand away, you showed him the red stain on your thumb. “You have blood on your cheek.” 

You and Caliban made a good team, all things considered, and managed to get rid of the hunters relatively quickly after the headstone moment with the help of a few spells and a scary-looking baseball bat. Your success was not without injury, on both sides, but nothing had been laced with wolfsbane or any other lethal plants. 

You sipped on Hilda’s healing tea and watched her treat the others. The humans were her first concern, but their wounds were superficial, and they went home soon after the fighting stopped. It was strange to see how close they all were with each other and then see how easily the witches adapted to their night without the humans. 

They settled easily, as if they hadn’t just been attacked by hunters. They’d been kind enough to invite you to spend the night, but you were still deciding if you could survive spending another night in Greendale. 

As you excused yourself to nurse your healing tea on the patio and look out at the night sky, you had to admit the view was nice. You were trying to trace how far you’d have to run on your way home when Caliban sat next to you on the porch swing. 

The swing rocked back and forth as you glanced at him. He’d showered and changed since the fight, as all the other witches had, and washed away all the blood from his face. Caliban stared straight ahead at the night sky, but you knew he could tell whenever you looked at him. 

Yes, you thought to yourself as you took a sip of tea, the view here was very nice.

“Are you staying?” 

You hummed and turned to look at Caliban, pretending not to be paying as much attention to him as you were. “Hmm?” 

Caliban smiled as he stared at the sky. It was very clear that he knew what game you were playing when he turned to look at you. “You’re a long way from home. Are you going to travel all that distance in the dark?”

You shrugged. “What does it matter to you?” 

“Never said it did, little wolf,” Caliban said easily. 

You rolled your eyes and looked back at the night sky. All you knew was that you had to be back before the next full moon … but one more night couldn’t hurt. 

“Truth be told, there’s something about you that I can’t explain,” Caliban confessed. He reached his hand out and touched your cheek. His fingers were warm. He wiped something off your cheek and pulled his hand away to show some of Hilda’s healing whatever-it-was. Even pulled back, Caliban's hand was still close to your face. “I’d like it if you stayed until I figured that out.” 

“Kiss me,” you said without thinking about it. 

You thought he’d argue but all he said before he leaned in was “okay,” and then he kissed you. It made your heart race so quickly that for a second you worried about shifting in front of him. He pulled away as soon as your anxiety set it. 

When you caught your breath, you asked, “Figured it out yet?” 

“Not even close,” Caliban said with a devilish smile. 

When you are using, you think that you will be able to recognize the point of no return. You think, for example, if it came to choosing between the drugs or your kids, you’d give up the drugs. What you don’t realize is that it is a slow, inevitable escalation into addiction, chaos, and loss. You don’t realize that no one is going to give you the choice to quit drugs or lose your kids. They just take your kids. And you, addict, will never forgive yourself for it.

When all my legal trouble started and I knew I was going to prison, I was out on bond and I remember I met a girl one night at a friend’s who had lost primary custody of her kids to the father. Not for drugs, but for sending him texts threatening to kill herself when they broke up. At least that’s what she said. I don’t even remember her name but at the end of telling me her story, she said, “The most important thing you have to remember right now is everything is going to be okay. Fight as hard as you can but if you lose, it’s okay. I still see my sons, all the time. They love me. we still have a good relationship”. And I remember shaking my head at her and blubbering 'NO' and how that could not happen to me, that COULD NOT happen to me! And she was calm and just said again, “but if it does, it’s okay. I promise, it will be okay.”

Let me give you an example of the conversation that happens almost every time an innocent and probably well meaning acquaintance finds out my kids don’t live with me:

“Wait, so where do your kids live?”

“Oh, so, why don’t they live with you?”

(obviously not wanting to have this conversation)

“Wow, I don’t know how you do that! I could never live without my kids as a mother”

Yes, thank you Bitch for reminding me how much I fucking hate life!

Now, almost every single person I have had this conversation with doesn’t mean to offend me or make me feel bad (I think), it’s just their natural response. Mothers typically don’t just choose to live without there kids.

Most of them, after the first couple of shocked comments and questions, realize there is something more here and stop. Every time I am ashamed and every time I deserve it. Obviously, I try not to tell people if I don’t have to.

Unfortunately, sometimes, fair or not, you don’t get everything back, including your children. Sometimes it’s because you made too many mistakes but most times it’s not that.

I can say that losing my children has made me a stronger, better, and kinder person. Now, trust me, I’m still fucked up and I still fuck up, maybe more, less reasons not to it feels sometimes, but a fuck up is a fuck up all the same. And trust me again, I wish I didn’t do this. I wish that I still had my children living with me. This was my one chance at motherhood, and I fucked it up. I’m the worst mother in the world.

Some how though the consequences for that made me a better person.

I’m less judgmental now. I give people the benefit of the doubt more. I’ve learned to shut up sometimes, and that it’s better to compromise than fight 99% of the time.

I’ve learned how to be alone, how to persevere when I felt there was no hope, and how to gracefully handle the unfair curve balls life throws at you.

I hope some day I can tell my kids how truly sorry I am for what I have done to them, and to myself. They are too young now to really know the truth but one day they will be old enough and I am going to have to admit everything to them. I pray every night that they will forgive me when that time comes.

It would break my heart to tell you our story, but there is no more heart. And my mind is teetering on the verge of total collapse. I can’t even look at anyone anymore. Or really, I can’t handle them looking at me. I’m so ashamed of myself.

Ahoj Zmijka. I come to ask you for an advice. I'm having some of the worst time in my life, not just because of the COVID-19 uncertainity, but also because of personal issues. I feel like no matter what I do, no matter how much I try to do the good thing, it always ends up wrong. I'm loosing faith in myself. Please, give me an advice on how to raise my own opinion about myself. Thank you so much for your words.

the quickest way is simply thinking about survival.

how old are you? how long have you survived? think of all the times when your bad decision could have led to the end credits - but you knew better. think of all the times when you picked yourself up, when you chose to act when everything seemed against you, or times when you laid low even though your first instinct was to rush in. all the times when you pushed yourself to do better - and all the times when you realised you need a break. all the times when you thought of doing something really dumb... but then had the strength to talk yourself out of it.

and don't be humble. really think about it. evaluate these situations as objectively as you can - as if you were a third party judging someone. look at yourself for a moment.

how many times have you sacrificed something for someone else, even if it was something as simple and unassuming as your own time or patience, or emotions, or empathy? how many times have you helped someone, given advice - even though you did not have to? we both know that the answer to that is quite a lot, really.

there are some strange dogs in our brains sometimes, barking for no reason and burdening us with worry and doubt and self-loathing and fear. but they're all bark - no bite. command them right and they'll shut up, at least for some time. throw them a treat and they might quiet down and slowly unravel the reasons behind the yapping and thrashing so that you might examine them - and fix them.

no one's better at yourself than you. it hurts sometimes, yes, we fuck up more often than we'd like to. but in the end... we manage. we challenge the fates when they need to be challenged. we grow, we learn.

you wouldn't be here if you haven't.

maybe this doubt is the universe's way of keeping you in line - otherwise you'd become just a bit too powerful. but you're doing well and you'll be alright, as long as you command the doubt to tone it down a bit and leave you in charge: because as long as you're in charge, you can choose courage and love, and trust you make good choices.

the best of luck, dearest stranger. kinder days are coming.

Greatness

With a resounding crash the wooden barrel lid he was using as a target was shattered as the bones hit it straight on. Undyne cheered enthusiastically from where she sat and watched from the gate. Though Papyrus still came daily to her house for his training, things had changed here too. He’d long passed spaghetti and moved on to other dishes. Almost all of what Undyne made was fairly inedible anyway, but neither of them really minded much, even if the house ended up on fire while they were trying to make a pie. Neither one was entirely sure how fire had gotten involved this time, given that they were attempting a recipe for a frozen custard pie, but the house was definitely blazing merrily and the light of the dancing flames was reflected off the smooth black volcanic stone that was plentiful in Waterfall’s many caves and tunnels. It still burned now, because they hadn’t bothered to try and put it out, and had instead switched to the more aggressive part of his training. Combat. There was no question now that Papyrus was ready for the guard, and Undyne was quickly running out of further challenges or tests to give him before she’d be forced into a decision. Both were aware of the reason for the delay. Nobody was really certain what was to become of the Royal Guard. It was an organization that had served the Royal Family for generations, and had only recently turned all its efforts and focus onto humans. But Undyne’s entire career had been within that final stretch where the humans were the focus, and she was the oldest member of the guard despite her young age. None of the others still in the guard had joined till after her, and when Gerson had passed on the reigns it was her they followed diligently. Sure it wasn’t impossible to return the guard to its normal functions of protecting the Royal Family and acting as peacekeepers of the Underground. But would they be needed? Or wanted? It would be the decision of the King and Queen, who were still on uncertain terms. There were a lot of things that were still being figured out. Until they knew the fate of the Guard, Undyne would wait. Papyrus knew it was to prevent him from getting his hopes up, and he appreciated that, but still he wanted so badly to be a part of it all. Of course there were still some things the Guard would be needed for. Though the Human stayed with the Queen and wandered with her wherever she went, many Monsters still feared them. Papyrus himself had seen entire classes at the new school suddenly go empty as Monsters made various mumbled excuses to slip away even as the Queen sadly watched them from the corner of her eye. All because of the little Human who sat quietly in the corner, watching passively as everything moved forward. He understood their fear, of course he did. Even the smallest of human children, with enough Determination, was powerful enough to spell the end of the Underground a thousand times over. But they’d stopped, hadn’t they? They’d chosen a different path, a path of mercy. It was sad that Sans had been the one to confront the Human so many times. Flowey had described how Sans had been the last one left, the only one who dared to stop the Human before they went too far. And then again, and again, until they simply did things that way because it was how they’d always done it. Why Sans had to fight, he didn’t know, but Papyrus felt sure that those days were over. Whatever the reasons, things had changed, and change of this kind wasn’t easily wiped away, not even with a Reset. Still that didn’t seem to be enough for most Monsters. They wanted justice for past deeds, justice for all the pain humans had caused them, not just this one little one, though they’d certainly done more than any other. And they wanted the source of their fear to go away. To stop scaring them. A quarter of an hour later he’d left Undyne and was thoughtfully trudging through the dark and damp tunnels of Waterfall. A sound reached him, the sound of something digging in the dark, of the rustle of leaves, of very soft muttering. “FLOWEY,” he said out loud. The flower had never managed to sneak up on him properly just yet, that he knew of anyway. “I KNOW IT’S YOU. YOU CAN COME OUT NOW.” “Drat. I was hoping I had you that time,” said the little golden flower as it popped out of the shadows to his left with a bright and cheerful smile. “Do you think you could let me win, just the once?” Striking a dramatic pose, Papyrus wagged his finger admonishingly at the flower. “NYEHEHEH! YOU KNOW BETTER THAN THAT. EVERYTHING THE GREAT PAPYRUS DOES WILL BE DONE TO THE HIGHEST STANDARDS! IF YOU WISH TO DEFEAT ME, YOU WILL HAVE TO SIMPLY TRY HARDER! BUT DON’T WORRY...” He smiled down at his little friend. “I BELIEVE IN YOU.” The expression on the face of the flower was not the one he was expecting. He’d hoped for gratitude or laughter, or even just the usual perpetual cheer that Flowey presented. But instead he only found irritation. “How do you always do that?” snarled Flowey. “Every single time you stayed true. No matter how many resets or details, no matter how bad things got, no matter how many times your attacks beat the human down, no matter how murderous they became before they reached you. You never once let loose. No death, nothing. You just forgive and forgive and forgive even when it hurts you! But you’re one of the strongest Monsters here! Nearly strong enough to be a Boss Monster even! Why do you keep believing in people who can’t change? Who don’t want to be better?” By the time Flowey had managed to get everything out, he was shouting, his little face screwed up in frustration. For a long moment, Papyrus said nothing, waiting, and the flower started to look regretful of the outburst, as if he’d remembered that his friend wouldn’t just forget anymore. “BECAUSE I CHOOSE TO.” Flowey’s face jerked back up to stare at him, and Papyrus’s gaze was unflinching as he gazed back. This outburst must have been building for a long time, he should give the best answer he could. “I KNOW WHAT THE WORLD IS LIKE, WHAT PEOPLE, MONSTERS AND HUMANS ALIKE, HAVE DONE AND ARE STILL WILLING TO DO. BUT I KNOW WHAT THE WORLD COULD BE LIKE. WE COULD BE KINDER, WE COULD BE BETTER. I CAN’T CHANGE THE WORLD BY MYSELF. I TRIED FOR A WHILE, AND PEOPLE JUST WROTE ME OFF AS NAIVE, FORGETTABLE, AND BLIND TO THE WAY THINGS ARE. SO WHEN SANS AND I MOVED TO SNOWDIN I MADE A DIFFERENT PROMISE. I CAN’T CHANGE THE WORLD, BUT I CAN CHANGE ME, AND THAT’S A GOOD START. I’LL BE THE BEST PAPYRUS, THE GREATEST PAPYRUS, I CAN BE.” He had the flower’s attention now. It was clear that in all the Resets, in all the time Flowey had known him that he couldn’t remember much of, he had never told him this part of the story. Flowey gazed at him in fascination, hanging on every word like it was pure gold. “EVEN THE WORST PERSON, SOMEONE WHO HAS FALLEN SO FAR THAT THEY FEEL LIKE THEY’RE SEPARATED FROM EVERYTHING, TRAPPED BY THEIR OWN CHOICES, BY THE PERSON THEY MADE THEMSELVES INTO, CAN STILL CHANGE. EXECUTION POINTS, LEVELS OF VIOLENCE... THEY DON’T MAKE YOU EVIL, THEY’RE JUST NUMBERS, RECORDS OF THINGS YOU’VE ALREADY DONE. THEY MIGHT MEAN TERRIBLE AWFUL THINGS, EVEN EVIL THINGS, BUT THEY DON’T MAKE YOU EVIL. THAT’S A DECISION YOU MAKE YOURSELF EVERY MOMENT OF EVERY DAY. JUST LIKE SOMEONE CAN DECIDE TO BE GOOD.” It was odd how often the flower’s expression changed. Sometimes Papyrus thought it was almost like looking at someone who tried on different masks for different feelings, someone who didn’t want to show their real face underneath all the fakeness on top. Flowey was looking not just taken aback, but almost appalled. Not all of the flower’s history was a mystery to him, Sans had never been the most trusting, but even before the Resets had been revealed to everyone, the smaller skeleton had showed a certain level of distrust, or almost fury towards Flowey. When something had happened and Sans locked himself away for days on end, and Papyrus had stumbled upon the Resets through his growing Determination to help, it was Flowey he’d looked for. Though Flowey had only spoken of the Human and of Resetting time and of Sans, there was enough to know that there was more to the story. And Sans had only confirmed that by acting so frightened about where Papyrus had gotten the information. Whatever Flowey had done, whatever he was, it wasn’t good or kind. He could imagine the little bright smile staying just as happy and cheerful even as all the Monsters in the Underground perished one by one. But that horrified expression, something he’d said had certainly struck a chord, and not one that Flowey liked. “I WOULD NOT BE THE GREAT ANYTHING IF, WHEN A PERSON WHO WAS SO TRAPPED BY THEMSELVES CAME ALONG, AND I DIDN’T OFFER THEM THE CHANCE THEY MIGHT HAVE BEEN WAITING FOR TO CHANGE. WHAT IF THAT WAS THE ONLY OPPORTUNITY? IF I GAVE IN AND SIMPLY FOUGHT THEM OFF OR RAN...THEY WOULDN’T HAVE THAT CHANCE ANYMORE. IF I KILLED THEM, I WOULDN’T BE THE ME I CHOSE, I’D BE SOME OTHER PAPYRUS I DON’T WANT TO BE, SOME LESS GREAT AND NOT AS WONDERFUL PAPYRUS. STILL AMAZING, BUT LESS SO BECAUSE HE WOULDN’T BE ME. SO I WOULD WANT TO KEEP TRYING, EVEN TO THE VERY LAST MOMENT, TO MY DEATH. I COULD BE THE ONLY ONE WHO OFFERS THEM THAT CHOICE TO CHANGE. I DON’T REMEMBER MORE THAN DARK DREAMS AND BITS AND PIECES OF MEMORIES, NOT LIKE SANS REMEMBERS THOSE TIMES, BUT I BELIEVE THAT THOSE MES WOULD WANT TO BE THE GREATEST PAPYRUS AS WELL.” One of his greatest monologues yet. Even if it was a bit of an uncomfortable subject to go on about. For his part, Flowey looked as if he’d swallowed something very unpleasant. “It’s just a choice? That’s all? You don’t even do it because it makes you feel good? Because you feel important?” It was a good point. There had always been the impulse to push himself forward, into the center of attention. To be loved and adored by everyone and recognized for being such a great person. But still... “I...” he said slowly, thinking it through as he spoke. “I DON’T THINK IT’S WRONG TO ENJOY DOING GOOD THINGS, OR TO FEEL IMPORTANT IF YOU DID SOMETHING GREAT. SOMETIMES YOU CAN EVEN DO GOOD THINGS FOR OTHERS BECAUSE IT’S LIKE DOING SOMETHING GOOD FOR YOU TOO AT THE SAME TIME. YOU’RE CHOOSING TO PRACTICE DOING THE RIGHT THING, AND THE THINGS YOU DO STILL HELP PEOPLE. AND IF YOU CAN LEARN TO DO GOOD THINGS FOR LOTS OF DIFFERENT REASONS BECAUSE YOU PRACTICED SO HARD AT IT, THAT’S GREAT TOO! SOME OF THEM MIGHT BE ABOUT FEELING GOOD, AND OTHER TIMES IT MIGHT BE BECAUSE ITS JUST THE RIGHT THING TO DO. ONE DAY, IF YOU PRACTICE ENOUGH, YOU CAN BE STRONG ENOUGH TO TRY AND DO GOOD EVEN WHEN YOU GET HURT BECAUSE OF IT. BUT IT’S OKAY IF YOU DON’T.” He smiled, his eyelights twinkling in their sockets. “EVEN SMALL GOOD THINGS ARE STILL GOOD. GREATNESS ISN’T ABOUT THE SIZE OF IT, YOU CAN BE GREAT BECAUSE OF YOUR CHOICES, EVEN WHEN NOBODY NOTICES A THING.” Flowey said nothing at all. His expression had returned to something more neutral, but it was clear that something had provoked a reaction, a response. Knowing it was getting late, Papyrus resumed his walking, and Flowey burrowed into the earth, popping out here and there ahead of him, but never quite looking at him, or speaking. It was only when they’d reached the first hints of snow that he spoke up, his voice very quiet. “And what about after? What does the person do after? Even if they change, how are people supposed to forgive the things they did? Or trust them ever again? Why should they? Maybe the person has changed, but it doesn’t fix the stuff they did. Right?” Today was a day for hard questions, wasn’t it? “I DON’T KNOW FOR SURE. I COULD FORGIVE SOMEONE IF I KNEW THEY WERE TRULY CHANGING. BUT OTHERS MIGHT NOT BE ABLE TO, OR DON’T WANT TO. I DON’T THINK THAT’S WRONG OF THEM, BECAUSE THEY WERE HURT. SOME MIGHT FORGIVE, BUT NOT TRUST, BECAUSE THEY CAN’T ACCEPT THE RISK OF GETTING HURT AGAIN. I THINK THAT’S OKAY TOO.” He stared off at the distant cavernous ceiling above the peaks and valleys of Snowdin Forest, and the trails of smoke that drifted lazily from the chimneys of the town. “I DON’T THINK PEOPLE HAVE TO FORGIVE, OR EVEN TRUST. IT MIGHT BE NICE IF THEY DID, BUT IT’S HARD TO BE THE BEST YOU IF YOU KEEP EXPECTING THEM TO BE JUST LIKE YOU. THEY MIGHT BE STRONG IN A DIFFERENT WAY, LIKE BEING DETERMINED NO MATTER WHAT, OR SUPLEXING BOULDERS, OR-” “Alright! Alright! I get it!” Flowey butt in hastily, cutting him off just as he was beginning his list. Without another word the flower dove into the earth and did not resurface again. Papyrus shrugged. Hopefully the little flower had gotten what he wanted, and it had been nice to talk about these sorts of things to someone other than Sans for once. He waved cheerily to the River Person as the boat sailed by on the river. “Tra la la,” remarked the hooded figure happily, returning his wave. “The Angel is coming.” And then he was gone. “WOWEE,” said Papyrus to himself. “TODAY HAS BEEN A VERY ODD DAY.”

kise is in no way reliable, he knows that. he didn't thought himself of being reliable when he doesn't even know what he wants to do for the rest of his life. never felt like he was in control of that, anyway. and maybe he'll never be in control of it. so here the blond was, sitting on a bench as he watched kagami do some throws in the hoop. it was still early and it was just a coincidence that kise was doing his morning jog when he spotted kagami in the court. he approached, received a simple greeting and that's that.

he could tell kagami was fuming about something. “ i can’t make you trust me. but i’m gonna stick around long enough for you to realize you can. ” flatly says, standing up from where he was and stole the ball from the latter. he said that because he wants to be able to be there for kagami, whenever he needed someone, anyone.

@ofmiracles

every so often, the frustration resurfaces that he relies a good deal on his team to support him in games. sure, anyone does to some extent. basketball is a team game. good teamwork is not weakness, nor is it something to take for granted. but kagami doesn't want to be a member of the best team. he is going to be the best. he loves seirin, and gets chastised for being self-centred or even selfish when he voices that sometimes seirin's wins don't feel like enough. so he doesn't voice them. he'll spend practice deep in thought, criticising every choice he makes. comparing it to better players. saying be more like him, or he wouldn't do that to himself. it's something that either his teammates aren't aware of, or are aware and know they can't do anything to help. they can distract him, remind him of the importance of a team, but they can't help.

on days like today, when nothing is good enough and the pressure he's put on himself is so intense that he fumbles, making it worse, this truly reflects on his mood. to try and drag himself out of this dark place, he'd stayed up late last night analysing nba matches, comparing where he is as a 17 year old enthusiast, to fully grown, nba champions. naturally, this doesn't help. as good as he is, as good as he knows that he is, kagami still feels like a small fish in a big pond sometimes.

his late night had made for a restless, tired day today. he'd zoned out through basically all of his classes, staring at the blackboard with his arms folded, envisioning plays and tactics almost as vividly as when he runs drills by himself. practice wasn't fun. the way he has been speaking to himself ( "you're not trying hard enough," / "you expect to make it big doing stupid mistakes like that?" / "that wasn't good enough. again. fail. do it again. that's not any better! try harder! do it again!" ) started to spill into how he spoke to his teammates and naturally he had clashed. like when koganei fucked up a perfectly easy pass because he'd blinked at the wrong time. fuck's sake, open your eyes next time maybe isn't the nicest thing to say to someone? he apologised to koganei, of course he did ( not much choice when there's berating coming from all sides ), but he hasn't been any kinder to himself. he'd come out after practice, followed by kuroko. no, i'm fine, kagami had said to him. and then, hoping that this would stop further questions, he continued i got stuff going on right now that i don't wanna talk about. catch you later, yeah?

he doesn't entertain this thought much, but if, by any chase, kagami is not good enough, what then? if he doesn't make the nba. it's almost unfathomable. he will. but if he can't? he'll keep trying. no-- see, it's relentless. kagami truly believes in himself, he is as tenacious as they come. but if he doesn't, there is no plan b. he doesn't care about anything else as much as this. his dad said he's sure he can get a job at the office, but the thought is laughable. asao, his father, is alive. he breathes, he eats, he sleeps, he works. but he doesn't live. kagami's perception is that a 9 - 5 is a slow death. it probably isn't, of course, but it feels that way to him. kagami recognises that it's stable, though. reliable. he would learn how to fit his life around office hours. it's just... kagami is in no way reliable, he knows that. he yearns for something more. he hopes that basketball will take him there ( and god help him if it doesn't ).

kise arrives on scene to watch kagami fuck up a three-pointer. it's not his fault, it had been in the air before kise could be blamed for it. still just as angry at himself as he has been all day, he scowls and offers a rhetorical 'sup? to his rival. please fuck off, kagami thinks to himself, he really can't handle forced cheer and loud noises this afternoon. kagami scoops up the ball and bounces it around his feet, lining up to go for a dunk. then kise does distract him.

"i can’t make you trust me," he says and kagami looks over at him with a quickly softening frown. "but i’m gonna stick around long enough for you to realize you can."

god, did he just get chills? kise closes the distance between them, and kagami can so little predict what he will do that he is a perfect target to steal from. he can concentrate better without thinking about bouncing the ball around, anyway. kagami stands straighter, closing his gaping mouth. maybe they're just pretty words said by someone who likes to think he's everyone's friend. is that fair? kise has his dark side too, one that kagami can just about see when the joyful façade is lowered enough. but why should kagami open up to him? they don't even go to the same school. they're alike in some ways, and different in others. with these generation of miracles guys, there's even more of that sneaking feeling that they'll just up and ditch as soon as they lose interest. that's not kise's fault, though. not really any of their fault. it's just kagami and his shattered ability to trust in people. to trust beyond a game.

he exhales. come back to earth. kise isn't asking for him to bare his soul, just maybe not to give him the cold shoulder so much. kagami inhales, closes his eyes, exhales, and smiles because he can't fight it. he's too in his head about his skills, where they need sharpening or improving, to think about the weight of kise's statement. but he'll remember it later when he's cooking dinner alone. it'll help him then, too.

"you're pretty full of yourself coming in here and disturbing me like this," kagami lowers again, a familiar spark re-entering his eyes. it's playfulness. he darts over, goes for a steal but it's obvious and kise avoids it. kagami huffs, running a hand through his hair. "you wanna help me out, you can play me."

it's not that he doesn't trust kise enough to voice exactly how he's feeling, or that he thinks kise would drop him and the weight of his problems, it's that he can't. he cannot open up about it. he doesn't even realise that he doesn't know how.

wah i got “lover dearest” stuck in my head

cws: violent intrusive thoughts, unhealthy coping mechanisms, drinking (referenced)

this bar doesn’t feel right on dankovsky’s skin. really, no bar does. even through his coat he feels the griminess crawling on him, itching to get beneath the leather, and if he weren’t wearing gloves he’d scratch it off in great bloody chunks. he scowls at the table in front of him, like if he furrows his brow hard enough the thought will simply vanish. he’s always hated that sort of violent imagery. he’s not innocent, not unaccustomed to viscera or even to the act of drawing blood, but something about turning his claws on himself puts a hole in his stomach.

he’d swallow himself if he could. the image isn’t going away, reel rewinding in his mind. it’s a flimsy moving picture, but it doens’t have to be good to stick to his mind.

daniil crosses his legs, one foot over the other. he came here to think, to stimulate his mind to progress. the change of scenery was supposed to help him through the stagnation he’d hit in the stillwater. the town hall was never conducive to thinking - even its usual occupants failed to do much more than act, to carry out orders based on little more than rumors. and maybe that was the philosophical point behind its arcitecture: a place for the human soul to follow the law, whatever the cost. or maybe the people here are just that stupid.

well. at the current moment, daniil can’t claim to be any better. coming to a bar to think was a moronic decision. he’d only come to bars to escape his thoughts, to drown them out for a while so he could... so he could do anything, really. sleep. socialize. he never did much of either, never did them well, never did them for long. sometimes with the drink, the thoughts would disappear altogether and he could just sit, staring at a wall, enjoying the blessed silence. other times the drink would numb it for long enough for him to make it back to his flat, stumbling over books in the dark, only to be attacked the moment he shut his eyes. images would come at him, blurring into one another, and a small but concise voice he didn’t recognize reminding him he knew the way to open a vein, to slit a throat, to puncture a lung. the best way to practice is on himself.

“fancy meeting you here, oynon.” daniil scrambles in his mind, throwing himself at the sound of burakh’s voice. outward, he’d be embarrassed of his actions, but as it is he can only feel relief. “i’d have thought our humble bar beneath your status.”

burakh says it with a lilt in his voice to indicate a joke is being made, and one at daniil’s expense. daniil clicks his tongue against his teeth and doesn’t quite shake his head, looking towards the bartender. even that hurts. “i’ll learn to make do with the materials provided me,” he says, “but i think you’ll notice i’m not drinking. i never do, on the job.”

“of course not. what a scandal that’d be!” burakh takes his seat across from daniil and plants his elbow on the table, drawing daniil’s eyes toward him. it’s nice to have someone across the way to look at instead of the wall, and it’s all the better that burakh is prettier than their surroundings. he doesn’t seem as out of place here as daniil would have thought, given the owner of this establishment. but artemy does shift in his seat to look at him, and the expression he wears is restless. “what are you doing here though, dankovsky, if not drinking? it’s the middle of the day, and i doubt stamatin has much medical insight to offer you.” his eyes flick to the dancer.

daniil cuts him off before he can make a truly ridiculous suggestions. “you never know. andrey was in the health sciences before he left for architecture. and perhaps the local alcohol offers a modicum of protection against the pest.” burakh’s eyebrows shoot up to his hairline, and some of daniil’s self-assured smugness rushes back. he’s not sure what part of his response burakh is surprised by. “i am here to think,” he offers. “thought a change of pace would help. i’m at a dead end, colleague.”

funny. it feels good to admit it. it’s never felt good to admit to anything before; to failures, to attractions, to the shifting and clouded thoughts inside his head... “i’m flattered, emshen, that you would trust me with such a dark and embarrassing secret. bayarlaa for this precious gift.” daniil thinks about kicking him under the table. then burakh sighs, dropping his hand from his face and sitting up a little straighter. “i have an idea, but i’m not confident in it. feels like i’m missing something, but i can’t put my finger on what.”

"is that why you’re here at a bar in the middle of the day?” burakh gives him an odd look and he feels his insides being tugged down. he’s always been affectless, and never sure if his words come across with the earnestness he means them. in a moment of weakness, he continues: “have i said something wrong?”

and for all of that, burakh snorts. “i don’t know what i’m doing here,” he says. “i don’t frequent bars at all. i just felt -” he stops himself, and daniil watches, transfixed, as his cheeks dust over with pink. he’s on the verge of putting a stop to whatever words were coming next, and daniil is suddenly and desperately invested in their trajectory. he leans closer, almost over the table, hoping his expression conveys his interest. burakh looks baffled, almost shy as he mumbles out, “i felt my line being pulled here.”

“oh.” he doesn’t know what that means. he gets the sense that it’s something important, and something personal, by the way burakh looks at him. he can’t help that his first thought is like a fishing line? but for once he manages not to simply say the first thing to come to mind. he says the second instead, just as honest as the first and every bit as embarrassing as burakh’s admission. “i’m glad.”

whatever it means, daniil’s choice of words seem to have been the right ones. burakh is a little less hunched in on himself now, fingers going lax against the table. daniil vibrates, a sudden impulse to reach out and grab one, to use him physically as the lifeline he’s latched onto mentally. especially as he’s looking ready to jump up and leave, and daniil does not want to be left with his thoughts again. “i shouldn’t have come here,” he says without thinking.

burakh looks at him, brows knit, eyes working through something. daniil licks his lips to try and work on a follow-up, but he freezes. even in burakh’s presence, the thoughts come back. you’ve shot a man already. daniil’s fingers curl on the table, nails against the leather against the wood. you are a violent and ruthless man. his teeth burrow into his lip, digging for blood. you will give in and hurt yourself again. the taste is stale against his tongue. it’s only a matter of time. daniil’s eyes start to flicker nervously. i am patient. “what i said, erdem - when i said that,” burakh shakes is head, puts a hand in his hair. daniil watches, eyes aching to stay focused. “i thought you were calling the kids ‘mutts’. i didn’t realize you meant actual dogs.“ a nervous smile plays over artemy’s mouth. “they left that part out. i guess because they told you?”

“yeah,” daniil says, not sure what it is he’s agreeing to. you could slip the cuff of your glove up and sink your nails in. you could tear at the skin until it bleeds. you could take your hand and slam it down on the table so hard it breaks your wrist.

“i’m sorry. i don’t really think we’re better off without you.”

daniil blinks at him. it takes a moment to process what he means, to work through the layers of awful commands in his head. “i didn’t mean that,” he says, though perhaps he should have let burakh think he did. burakh gestures for him to continue, and he finds himself uncertain. he feels the stress high up in his throat, difficult to breathe for the doubt blocking his airways. he can’t manage even a grimace like this, sweat gone cold along the back of his neck. “the bar,” he says. “i shouldn’t have come to the bar.”

like that, the floodgates open. daniil puts a hand to his temple, muttering almost more to himself than to burakh. “being here brings back such memories. bad habits. destructive habits.” stop where you are. he’ll think you’re a freak. “drinking myself stupid just to keep the -” daniil shuts his mouth so quickly and sharply his teeth ache. “nevermind,” he says, and what should be a grumble comes out just as monotone as all the rest. when it looks like burakh is about to encourage him, he snaps out, “you wouldn’t understand.”

despite the tone, burakh looks at him with soft eyes. it irritates daniil to be looked at this way. it’s uncomfortable, much kinder than he deserves. he could take it if burakh wanted to shout, if this turned into a brawl like his first few years at university. he’s not used to this, whatever it is. “maybe not,” burakh concedes, “but wouldn’t you feel better talking about it anyway?”

“i never have.” even to his own ears, he sounds surprisingly vulnerable. it makes him want to tug the coat tighter across his chest, deflect whatever future empathy comes his way. there’s a mix of emotions flooding through him now: a distaste for pity, a fear that he’s crossed the line, a sense of longing to be understood where it’s impossible. he’s not sure what sort of response he’s looking for or, more to the point, what he needs in this moment, only that it’s difficult to look burakh’s way. he can still feel the other man’s eyes on him, waiting for him to continue, and a panic sets in that he truly doesn’t know what burakh wants. he feels, all of a sudden, so ludicrous like this, when there’s so much else to be worried about. “nothing seems to work anymore,” he confesses. “it’s hard not to fall back on...”

he trails off, but burakh picks up on it. “yeah,” he says. daniil feels something and looks down. he hadn’t realized he’d left his hand sitting on the table until now, hadn’t felt it at all until other fingers grazed over his. he knows there must be a flush to his cheeks, and the urge to take hold of the hand swells up. his own fingers feel a tremor underneath burakhs, and more wild and impulsive thoughts crowd his brain. more pleasant this time, but far more unobtainable.

“i don’t think you can help me,” he says flatly. saying it feels liberating, and the next words come easy. “not with this.” burakh tilts his head. “some battles must be fought with the mind, and not the hands.” burakh laughs. it’s a pleasant, light sound, and daniil’s heart races to hear it. equal parts endearment and frantic confusion. “what? what did i say?”

“nothing i shouldn’t have expected.” burakh’s fingers curl a little around daniil’s own, before they start to slip away as he stands. “you do what you need to, dankovsky. and if you find you want help all the same, you know where to find me.”

“actually, i don’t,” he blurts out, and he knows his face is on fire now. “it’s you who usually finds me, not the other way around.”

burakh blinks at him, and extends his hand. daniil can see where it’s calloused over, and thinks about touching it. the imagined texture is a far cry different from the images he’s conjured to mind all afternoon. not soft, perhaps, but gentle. “have you got a map?” he asks. daniil sets his bag on the table too quickly, eliciting another quiet giggle as he searches for the paper. burakh pulls a pen from his center pocket, circling an abandoned factory not far from where they are now. “i trust that you won’t give out my secret,” he says, and slides the map back over.

he’s gone before daniil can think of something else to hold him in place.

it’s for the better, daniil tries to rationalize, but his body screams that it really isn’t. he’s alone again, in a place that begs him to give in. the thoughts are at bay for the moment, only because daniil’s kept his attention the way burakh’s hand had felt on his. he fantasizes, for a second, what it might have felt like with his glove off, to know the brush of those rought finger pads against the back of his hand. and then, easy as anything, the thoughts are back to torment him. images of broken fingers, of pencils shoved through skin. daniil stands before he can wallow a second longer, and heads for the bar.